#some days though. i just sit here and wish i could do more

[lovings4turn]

ᯓ★ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐎 (𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒)

— or, lando wants to make your birthday special from the start

+ aka. some short and sweet fluff about lando celebrating your birthday with you . considering this a little gift to the absolutely wonderful @wintfleur who turned twenty today !!!! happiest of birthdays bestie ,, i love you so much !!!

you're unsure of the time as your eyes slowly blink open, heavy with a good night of sleep. birthdays, you believe, are the perfect excuse to wake up whenever you feel like it, no alarms necessary.

just as you push yourself up onto your elbows, a loud yawn escaping your lips, the bedroom door moves ajar to reveal a smiling lando, hair still messy and tousled like it normally is in the mornings.

"ah, so you're finally awake," he teases, wasting no time in making his way over to your side of the bed. "i've been popping in and out every ten minutes for like, the past hour."

lando stoops down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, pushing your hair away from your face as he pulls back with a fond smile. as he takes in your barely awake form, you swear you can see the amount of love radiating from his features; it's damn near golden, and you bask in his glow. 

"happy birthday baby."

"thank you," you smile, puckering your lips up for one more kiss. lando would have to be heartless to deny the birthday girl, after all, and so he grants your wishes instantly. 

"as much as i'd love to stand here 'nd keep kissing you, i have something i need to do. someone's special day, apparently."

lando’s expression is mischievous, and he wiggles his eyebrows at you as he slowly backs towards the door. 

over the course of your relationship with lando, you’ve learnt one very crucial lesson: never question him. especially not in moments like these, when he clearly has a trick or two hidden up his sleeve. and so you allow him to slink away, your curiosity piqued as to what he could have planned for you.

gentle clattering and a few mumbled curse words provide background noise as you slowly wake up further, the haze of sleepiness lifting the longer you sit upright. phone in hand, you scroll through the barrage of birthday texts and messages from your friends and family. a wide smile tugs at your lips as you allow the excitement of the day to bubble below your skin, electric and bright.

you sniff once, then once again, as a sugary, warm scent floats through the half-open doorway. you can hear lando hiss a little as the sound of a pan clashing into the sink prompts a laugh to escape you.

it doesn’t take a genius to work it out: he’s cooking. what he’s making, though, is still to be revealed. it’s far too late for him to think about baking a cake for you, yet the scent is no where similar to his usual breakfast of eggs or toast.

“you okay?” you call out, mirth lacing your tone.

“perfect!” comes lando’s response. “just stay put, gorgeous, i won’t be long!”

convinced, you do as told. and god, is it worth the wait.

lando swiftly reappears, an adorably out of tune ‘happy birthday’ accompanying his arrival. a large gift bag hangs from his wrist, and balancing precariously in his hand is a plate of pancakes.

they’re quite clearly homemade, a little uneven in size and shape, and topped with copious amounts of fruit and cream. baby blue candles are stuck into the top of the stack, the flames flickering mildly, and you think you could cry.

lando has never made you feel anything less than the luckiest girl in the world, but in this moment, you truly have no idea what you’ve done to deserve him.

he places one foot in front of the other, all of his focus directed to delivering your birthday breakfast to your lap safely. as his song comes to an end, lando presents you with your pancakes, his bright grin another sweet side.

the gift bag is placed onto the ground, and lando perches next to you on your bed, hand resting on your knee above the bedsheets.

“happy birthday, baby,” lando says, voice sincere. “make a wish.”

and when you blow out the candles, you don’t even need to make a wish; all you could ever want is right in front of you.

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris blurb #lando norris drabble #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n

[nayomi247]

okay okay that uh ideal partner headcannon post with lucifer where you said he would fall for you over your smile got me REELING. Can you do some headcannons (maybe a little story if your so kind o great one) about a reader who doesn't smile/laugh very often and one day Lucifer sees them just totally let loose; like maybe they see an old friend or they get super drunk or whatever, but basically they are nothing but smiles and giggles and Lucifer is 100% smitten.

You've Got A Smile That Could Light Up This Whole Town

A/N: THIS IS SO CUTE. Definitely one of my favorite requests that I've gotten. Writing Lucifer as a complete simp is my kryptonite. Thank you so much for the ask btw<3

Pairing: Lucifer/f!reader

Contents: Fluff, Pining, drunken confessions, alcohol, drinking, Lucifer being a simp

Work under the cut🤞🏻

You had never been much of a smiler. You weren't depressed of course, and you were a happy person, but you just.. didn't smile.

A lot of people had asked you if you had some sort of trauma, or even if you had something wrong with you. You never let it bother you though. You knew it wasn't necessarily 'normal' but you didn't care, you were happy with who you were.

Now, here in hell, not many people smile, for obvious reasons. It's easier to blend in now and not have to deal with constant questions. Though many people at the hotel you're staying at think it's a bit odd. They have one person who smiles constantly, and another that doesn't smile at all. They think it's best not to question it.

Though one person, Lucifer, thinks of it, or more specifically you, more than he probably should. He may be the devil, but he still smiles and what not.

You're sat at the bar, a drink in hand and chatting along with Husk. Angel sits beside you, also pitching in every once in a while. Nearby, Lucifer sits in the lobby mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

He looks up every once in a while, occasionally listening in to what you have to say or what the conversation topic is.

After a while, and an amount of drinks that you can't even count, you start to loosen up. A small smile here or there at a story Husk tells or a little giggle at Angel's jokes.

Lucifer decides he's had enough of whatever he was doing, making his way up to the bar and sits down on a stool beside you. He doesn't say much, only smiling a bit at your soft smiles or chuckling along with you.

As time goes on, your laughs get slightly louder and your smiles linger for longer. But after Husk tells what your drunken self thinks is the funniest story ever, you burst into laughter.

It takes everyone by surprise, seeing you, the person who never smiles turning red and shedding tears over a story.

Lucifer though, turns a deep shade of red at seeing you like this. You're smile is beautiful to him. He wishes he could see it all the time. If this is the way to get you to smile and laugh, then by God he'll drink with you every night.

You continue to laugh, almost on the floor as he stares in awe. Why don't you smile like this all the time? Are you insecure? If so, you shouldn't be.

Finally realizing that he's staring, like a creep, he quickly turns to Husk. He needs more alcohol in his system if he's gonna see you like this all night.

"Uh- Husk?" He stutters out and Husk looks over to him a bit confused, as well as Angel and you. He flushes a bit more at the sudden attention, but quickly composes himself.

"Can I get an um.. a- drink..please." He once again stutters. Get a grip Lucifer! "Sure.." Husk replies, almost as if to question him. "What kind?"

"Hm?" Lucifer asks, thinking he was already done with having to talk. "What kind of drink?" Husk says almost like it's obvious, which it kind of is.

"Ah, okay.. um, anything apple flavored...please." Husk nods and Lucifer pulls out his phone, trying to act like he isn't a complete mess just by hearing you laugh.

Meanwhile, you start a conversation with Angel, your laughs and snickers filling the room once more. Lucifer doesn't even pay attention to what's on his screen, instead he listens in to what you're talking about. He doesn't even really care what the topic is, just that he can hear you.

Husk hands him the finished drink and he downs it like a man who was deprived of water for days. Husk, a bit surprised, but used to seeing people this way, makes him another.

A similar cycle continues for a while, you laughing, Lucifer finishing his drink, and Husk making him a new one.

Eventually, Lucifer gets to the point where he can barely remember where he's at. The only things remaining on his mind are you and your sweet laugh.

Husk and Angel finally decide its time for bed, leaving the two of you alone, still sitting at the bar. You scoot a bit closer, changing to a chair that's beside him.

You notice the way he seems to be out of it. His eyes half lidded, mouth slack, and breathing labored. "You okay..?" You ask. Your thoughts are also all over the place. You probably won't even remember this interaction tomorrow.

He shakes his head and looks to you, blinking himself back to reality. "Y-yeah, I'm good." He laughs and takes yet another sip from the glass in front of him. You've been watching him subtly throughout the night, surprised he hasn't killed himself yet from the amount of alcohol he's consumed.

"I'm surprised you're still conscious." You chuckle, and he remembers why he started drinking in the first place. The light redness on his face from the alcohol burns darker. He chugs down the rest of what's in his glass.

"Uh- yeah.. haha. I have a pretty high tolerance with this stuff." He hiccups, his words slurring ever so slightly. "Y'know, being-" another hiccup "The king of Hell and all." He finished.

You giggle lightly, the liquor in your system making you feel fuzzy and light. He smiles at seeing that he was the one to get that reaction from you.

You both continue to talk for a while, well you do, he mostly just listens, only really focusing on your features; your eyes, hair, lips, anything he can.

Then, out of nowhere, "You're really pretty."

"What?" You ask, a bit flustered. "Where'd that come from?" You question, a small smile still on your lips as you tilt your head.

"I just-" hic "Think you're.. beautiful." He confesses. Your face flushes pink as you rack through your brain trying to find a response. "O-oh.. thank you!" You curse yourself for stuttering.

He leans forward, face only inches from yours. His face is red and his eyes are droopy. He looks like he's about to pass out. "And- your smile. Its gorgeous. It's-" hic "A shame you don't smile often. If every word I said could make you smile, or laugh, I'd never stop talking." He slurs.

"Lucifer, what are you on about?" You question with a bit of a nervous giggle. He smiles and brings a hand up to hold your cheek. You don't protest.

"I mean I like you. Like, really like you. I don't remember the last time I ever felt this way about someone other than Lilith." He smiles softly at you. "You could even say that, I love you."

You freeze and your brain short circuits. He.. loves you? The king of hell, loves... you? You can't wrap your head around it at all. Seeing how you react, Lucifer somewhat comes to his senses. "Shit. I- uhm." He pulls away from you and looks down to his dangling feet. "I probably shouldn't have came on that strong. I'm sorry. I understand if you don't wanna-" He's cut off by the feeling of your lips on his. His eyes widen in surprise, but his hand eventually finds it way back to its previous spot on your cheek and he pulls you in closer.

Once you pull away, he comes back to reality and he tries to speak, but fails to form a single word. You take it as an opportunity to talk instead. "I guess you could say that I love you too." You smile widely.

Lucifer just pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you and vowing to never let you hide that beautiful smile of yours ever again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm so glad I was finally able to get this out. It was a bit rushed at the end, and I'm not too haply with it but I figured this is the best it's gonna get so mind as well not fuss over it anymore.

Once again thank you so much for the request, and for anyone else that has sent any in I promise I'll start working on them and hopefully have one or two out by the end of this week.

Just a warning that I do have finals coming up, so as before I might not be as active with writing, but I'll try my best to do what I can. Sorry I was gone for so long!!

#nayomi247 #asks #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbinhotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar/reader #hazbin lucifer morningstar #lucifer x you #lucifer fluff #fluff #confession #drunken confessions

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

Grayson enemies to lovers hc?

grayson enemies to lover head canons

sure! i don't think this will be very long bc i don't really have any ideas and i'm not good with oc's/reader hcs. you also didn't specify if you want the other character to be a man or woman so i'll just refer to the character as 'them'. this is really bad and cliche. im sorry T-T.

i just know he'd be like cardan in the cruel prince (if you know what that is) when he kept writing jude's name on this piece of paper (basically, he'd hate them but wouldn't be able to stop thinking about them).

he'd do the biggest background check on them. he'd hire 10 private investigators to make sure they're not going to kill his family.

he'd call them something like sweetheart (or anything else) in a condescending way if you get what i mean

the other character would call him smth like 'love' to annoy him or smth meaner like 'asshole'

the other character would outsmart him all of the time, but grayson would be too prideful to admit it so he'd just ignore them or stare at them weirdly.

i imagine the love interest being quite funny and being the type of person to crack jokes. they make grayson smile but he always hides it. he never admits to it when someone brings it up.

they would be the only person capable of getting a rise out of grayson. he never swears unless they provoke him.

i don't think grayson is the type of person to not apologize when he does smth wrong. although he hates them, if he says/does smth really shitty and uncalled for, he would apologize

i can see the 'who did this to you' trope happening, but grayson is the one to get hurt (somehow got in a fight or was ambushed by some people who wanted to kill him), not the other character

grayson would consider himself in debt after the other character helped him with his wound. he'd end up doing some digging and finding out that the other character wishes to travel to europe cause they never got the chance to. he'd buy them a plane ticket and book them a room at a super expensive hotel to some place.

nothing extravagant ends up happening before they confess that they love each other. it's more of a slow build up. they'll be sitting next to each other at night (why, its up to you to imagine that), and one character (im thinking the love interest is saying this, but it could also the grayson) will go 'i think i might be falling in love with you' really quietly.

the other person ends up ignoring them for days bc they love the other person too but they're scared of what might happen if they give in. eventually, though, they talk it out and get together.

even when they become lovers, they still call each other sweetheart and asshole sometimes bc it reminds them of how petty they used to be when they were younger.

late at night, one day, they'll be lying in bed and they'll start talking about what made them fall in love with the other person (a lot of tears were shed).

the love interest would constantly tease grayson about how petty, prideful, and untrustworthy he was. they'll be at an event talking to strangers when the love interest goes 'you remember when you hired 10 private investigator to do a background check on me?' and the people they're talking to just stare in shock and are slightly frightened.

this is probably the shittiest thing i've ever written but oh well T-T. i didn't want to not do it so here we are. im posting an averyjameson hcs post soon to make up for this shit.

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #avery grambs

[aemonds-fire]

The Sapphire Spell Ghost Aemond x Female Reader Part Six - The Kinslayer Lives

Can a spell cast by Alys long ago bring Aemond Targaryen back to life centuries later in Westeros? When the remains of the Kinslayer are found and put on display in a Cabinet of Curiosities, the ghost of Aemond discovers the proprietor’s beautiful daughter is the only person who can see or hear him.

Dark Ghost Aemond x Female / Slow Build / Dark Romance

Word Count: 3329

Chapter Warnings: Angst

The Sapphire Spell Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

You’ve been in your room all day, sobbing, broken with grief and guilt.

When your father still hadn’t arisen past time for breakfast, your housekeeper knocked on his door to check if he was alright. Worried when she received no answer, she hesitantly entered the room and found him still in bed. Alarmed to find him with his eyes open but not breathing, the housekeeper immediately summoned your father's physician.

The physician determined angina pectoris to be the cause of death; in layman's terms, his heart failed. Why, he could not say for sure. Over exertion, mental strain, or possibly an unknown defect of the heart, he speculated.

But you thought you knew why. You had never seen him so angry as he was last night. Some of the servants heard him yelling at you; they knew you had done something terrible to enrage him like that. ‘This was your fault,’ you tell yourself.

Not wanting to face anyone, you stayed in your room, refusing to eat and suffering through bouts of heartbreaking sobbing.

You couldn’t even summon the will to go and see Aemond, though a part of you sorely wishes he could comfort you, wanting simply to be held while you cried out your sorrow.

You remember little of that first day without your father—just endless tears. Only when you learn that your father's solicitor is coming to discuss his affairs do you force yourself to get out of bed and dress.

The solicitor is a kind and soft-spoken man, as well as a longtime friend of your father's. Seeing your distraught state, he tries to console you by assuring you that arrangements according to your father’s wishes have already been made so you wouldn’t have the burden of making decisions. He informs you that the funeral will take place in two days.

Before leaving, he encourages you to rest and eat, promising to return to escort you to the funeral.

You still do not wish to face anyone, not even your beloved staff, some of whom you’ve known since childhood, choosing to remain in your room. You’ve stopped crying for now, feeling that you have no more tears and wishing for numbness to take over.

Only when it is past midnight and sleep continues to elude you do you quietly don a robe and shawl and slip over to the museum, desperately seeking solace.

Signs are posted on the doors, informing the public that the museum is closed until further notice. Walking through the collection, there seems to be a gloominess here, as if the items your father collected and treasured are aware of his loss. You wonder if this can ever be a happy place for you again.

Aemond is waiting for you at the top of the stairs, watching your approach with concern on his face. “I wanted to come looking for you. I’ve been worried.”

“Aemond, he’s gone” is all you can cry out; just speaking of it brings a fresh swell of tears.

Staying by your side, encouraging you to sit on a nearby bench, “I know. I…felt something. And I overheard some of the workers talking.” He stammers a bit with his half-truth, painfully aware that he is the true cause of your grief. “I am truly sorry.”

Barely able to look at him through your tears, you cry, “It’s all my fault.”

He lowers himself so that you are eye-to-eye. “Look at me. Do not blame yourself; it was not your fault,” he insists. “He was angry with me. He only wanted to protect you. If anyone is to blame, it is me.”

Yearning for any easing of your pain, you wish you could fall into a warm embrace, but all you can feel is his icy chill surrounding you as your tears continue to flow. He stays with you while you cry out your grief, murmuring reassurances to you. Eventually, your sobs wane, leaving you with tear-swollen eyes and an aching head.

“I’m sorry for going on like this. I just feel so alone right now,” you lament between sniffles, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“You are not alone, nor will you be,” he whispers to you. “I wish I could do more for you right now, but unfortunately I cannot in this state."

Nodding your head slightly, “I can bring the sapphire to you, but the next two days will be difficult for me. I will have to receive guests, and then there will be my father’s funeral.” You sigh as the thought of it fills you with sadness. “But I want to be here if you need my help.”

“Then we will wait until after the funeral,” he decides. "I've waited this long," he reassured you with a gentle smile. "I can wait a little longer."

The two of you quickly form a plan, settling on the evening after the funeral, when you have an excuse to give your household and museum staff time off to mourn, and you can plead tiredness and grief to give you time alone.

You feel grateful to have him with you. Despite how vehemently your father was against your trying to help Aemond, you are determined to aid him. You believe no one should have to suffer what he has. Though his legacy may paint him as a killer, you have spent hours with him, growing quite fond of him.

“Thank you; I do not wish to burden you any further,” he insists. “Now you should go and rest.”

Feeling exhausted, you only nod in agreement, though you wish you didn’t have to leave him.

As you head towards the staircase, Aemond says, “I am sorry for your pain, but everything will be alright.”

Thankfully, you do sleep through the night and wake up feeling a little stronger. It still feels like there is a hole in your heart, but you now believe you will somehow get through it. You let the housekeeper and cook fuss over you, trying to persuade you to eat breakfast. You manage to eat a little, though the food has no taste.

The next day and a half passes with you simply going through the motions of what is expected of you. You somehow manage to get through the funeral without breaking down and sobbing like a child, but the effort leaves you exhausted. You already informed your staff they could take the rest of the week off, with pay, to mourn. Despite their misgivings, they heed your plea for time alone. Your father's solicitor, who is also concerned about leaving you on your own, is the last to leave. Finally, you convince him that you simply need time.

Once you have the house to yourself, you gather a few items, including the sapphire, and make your way to the museum.

Filled with nervous trepidation, you meet Aemond near the glass casket holding his remains. You brought some of your father’s clothes and a blanket with you, which you set nearby. He and Aemond were about the same height, though your father was more burly in build.

“Aemond, do you have any idea of what will happen or how this might work?”

Still staring at his bones, he quietly says, “No, I do not.”

“I’m worried for you. What if it doesn't work, or something goes wrong?"

“You know I have to try."

Nodding your head, you accept the fact that he is determined to do this, despite the uncertainty or the risk. Your hands shake as you unlock the casket's lid to open it.

Aemond gives you a determined look before telling you, “Once you have placed the sapphire, I want you to leave. Go back to your home and stay there."

"No, I should stay here. What if you need my help?”

He now shakes his head at you and argues, "I don't know how this will work or what it might look like. I don’t know how long it might take.” Pleading with his eye, “Please go; if it works, I will come to you.”

You agree to do as he asks, not wanting your final time together to be an argument like it was with your father. But holding the sapphire in your trembling hand, you are suddenly overcome with apprehension. You cannot stop staring at him, thinking that you cannot lose someone else this soon and that there are so many things left unsaid between you.

As if he can read your mind, Aemond smiles and says, ”Do not worry. We will talk when this is done.”

After placing the bright blue gem in the eye socket of Prince Aemond Targaryen’s skull, you turn and reluctantly head back down the staircase.

It is still dark out when you wake up after dozing off on the couch in the parlor. When you check the time, you realize it's the middle of the night. Feeling stiff from sleeping awkwardly, you stand, trying to stretch the kinks out of your muscles.

After leaving the museum, you tried to occupy your mind while you waited, but it was no use. You worried and paced; you stopped yourself several times from going back to him. Even though neither one of you has any clue as to how long this may take, you are worried because it has been hours since you left him.

Unable to wait any longer, though fearful of what you might find, you climb the grand staircase to find Aemond. You gasp as you view his display, realizing that the glass case, which has housed his remains for months, is empty, and some of the clothes you brought lie scattered on the floor. When you see no sign of him, you call out his name.

A faint groan to your left gets your attention. Your eyes go wide with shock when you see a figure with long tousled hair, wrapped in a blanket, huddled against the wall. Crying out his name again, you rush to his side, kneeling on the floor next to him. Placing your hand on his shoulder, you feel flesh and bone beneath the blanket.

“Aemond, are you alright? You ask frantically, worried about finding him in this state.

“Yes, I’m alright.” His reply is weak, and his voice is raspy. Even turning his head toward you appears to be an effort for him. “I have no strength,” he murmurs.

Unable to stop yourself, you rest your palm against his sharp jawline while your eyes take in his face. The first thing you notice is the warmth of his skin instead of the chilling cold whenever you were near him. You can see the blue sapphire fitted in place of his missing eye, as well as the old scar that runs from his forehead down to his cheek.

When you brush a few locks of hair off his face, he gives you a soft smile. His hand reaches up to find yours, weakly wrapping his long fingers around your smaller, more delicate one. You are captivated by the sight of life in his eye, the pinkness of his lips against his pale skin, and his subtle masculine scent.

Stunned that the inconceivable has really happened, you can’t hold back the soft giggle of pure happiness that escapes your lips. “It worked. I can’t believe it,” you whisper in awe.

You hear him breathe a deep sigh, slightly nodding his head. “Thank the gods, it worked.”

“How do you feel?”

“I still feel weak, but I’m alright.”

With your shock wearing off a bit, more practical concerns come to mind. “We need to get you next door. Can you get up?”

Nodding yes, Aemond manages to get to his feet with your assistance, though he continues to lean against the wall for support. As he stands, the blanket slips down, revealing that he is bare-chested. Unaccustomed to seeing a man in any state of undress, you quickly try to avert your eyes, feeling flustered.

“My apologies; I tried to dress, but I felt so weak. I needed to rest for a moment.”

Hoping the warm flush you feel creeping across your skin isn’t too obvious, you try to reply lightly, “It’s alright; at least you managed to get the trousers on.” Risking a glance at him, trying to focus your eyes on his face, you ask, “Can you walk?”

Leaning on you, with his arm around your shoulders and your arm around his waist, the two of you slowly make your way to the residence. As he struggles with the exertion, you find yourself torn between fear of him falling and the sensation of his bare skin beneath your hand. Finally, when you make it to the parlor, you help him ease down on the couch and leave him to rest while you fetch a shirt and slippers for him to put on.

You help him put on the shirt, but not before taking in the soft-looking patch of blond hair in the center of his chest, faded old scars against the paleness of his skin, and his long, lean torso. With your ladylike manner becoming more ruffled by the sight of him, you hurry off to make him some tea.

When you return to the parlor, you have a tray with tea and a plate of food for him. Sitting on the couch with him, careful to maintain a proper distance, you pour two cups, and you feel the need to ask again, “How do you feel?”

He pauses for a moment before answering, running his fingers on the couch's velvet, fascinated by the texture. “Better, though I fear it may take some time for my strength to come back,” he answered distractedly. You watch him look around the room, then at you. “Everything looks so different. To be able to touch things..." He shakes his head, struggling to put his feelings into words.

“I’m sure it will take some time to get used to everything,” you tell him. You take a sip of your tea, trying to reign in your swirling emotions. You’ve sat and talked with Aemond as a ghost for hours, coming to feel quite comfortable in his presence. But being around him as a living, breathing man now makes you feel awkward and a bit on edge.

Aemond is quiet while he drinks his tea and tries some of the different foods on the plate. You weren't sure what to bring him, so you kept it simple, giving him some biscuits, cheeses, and fruit to start with. You can’t help but smile watching him savor the flavors and textures, and the light meal seems to be helping him.

When he’s finished with everything on the plate, he leans back with a satisfied smile on his face. “That was the most delicious food I’ve ever had.” When he turns to look at you, his smile turns into a happy grin.

You can’t help but chuckle at him. “I’m sure you’ve had far better than that, but I’m glad you enjoyed it."

“I’ve mostly forgotten the taste of food; it’s like I’m experiencing it for the first time. Everything feels new to me. I’m not sure if I am making any sense.”

Right now, it's easy to let his wonder and joy in life's simplest aspects sweep you away. And you try to push aside the thought that has creeped into your mind about your beloved father.

Aemond sees your face dim with your sorrow and extends his hand to you, not taking yours, but waiting for you to accept his overture.

You waver for a second before placing your hand in his, knowing that physical contact with him will stir more sentiments in your already tumultuous state, but still craving comfort from your pain.

“Forgive me, I haven’t thought to ask how you are doing with all of this.” His soft spoken voice sounding so soothing to your ears.

For a second, you wonder how the simple act of someone holding your hand can stir so many different feelings inside you.

“My sweet lady, tell me what you are thinking.”

His question unintentionally brings tears to your eyes. “I was imagining my father being here, seeing you alive. He would be inundating you with questions right now; his curiosity was endless.”

Your words are like a knife twisting in his gut. Seeing tears spill from your eyes, Aemond presses his lips together tightly, not trusting himself to speak. He cautiously eases closer to you in a silent offer of consolation.

You cannot resist the urge to lean upon him, resting your head against his shoulder and sobbing. Though you thought you had cried out all of your tears in the days prior, a new flood flows down your cheeks. Whether it’s your grief, the insanity of bringing a ghost back to life, or your growing attachment to him, you do not know or care at this point. You surrender to his embrace and cling to him desperately.

He patiently waits until your sobs subside before tilting your chin up to look at him. “I am with you now, and I will always be with you,” he murmurs before gently pressing his lips to your forehead, letting them linger there for a moment before pulling back with a sigh. “I think you need to rest now.”

Having been awake most of the night, you know your tiredness is playing a part in your very emotional state. Wiping your eyes, you reluctantly ease yourself from his arms.

“You are probably right. I should try to sleep for a bit,” you agree. “Will you be alright?”

“I will be fine. I am feeling stronger already,” he assures you.

Aemond insists on seeing you to your room. Along the way, you show him the guest bedroom, which will be his, and repeatedly ask if he needs anything before you lie down.

“I am no longer helpless, and I can manage on my own for a few hours,” he tells you with a smile as he sees you to the door of your bedroom. “Now please rest.”

After you are in your room, Aemond goes to his guest room. Though he feels stronger than he did, he knows he has not regained his full strength yet. He sits on the edge of the soft bed, looking around at the room's wooden furnishings. He runs his hands over the blankets, trying to remember the feeling of sleeping in a comfortable bed.

Now that he is alone, he allows himself to think of you and what he has done. ‘Hundreds of years later, and you are still the same impetuous boy,' he tells himself with a mirthless smile. ‘This feels like Luke all over again.’

Leaning forward, Aemond rests his head in his hands in frustration. It truly hurts him to see you grieving so much, and it hurts him even more to know that he took someone dear from you. Something he never had, a loving father.

But your father made one fatal mistake; he threatened the one thing that truly stoked terror in him.

“I swear by the Seven, I will have your bones crated up, put on a ship, and dropped into the Narrow Sea if I have to, to protect my daughter from you."

Years spent at the bottom of the lake, fully aware but helpless, was a fate worse than death, one he would not endure again.

When he made that threat, something snapped inside, just like when Luke came to Storm’s End. Then it was the first opportunity to collect payment on a debt owed, and he impulsively seized the chance to quell the rage that had long simmered in him.

Killing your father was just as impulsive and perhaps unnecessary. And now, it is a secret you must never know, because after centuries, he has finally been given the chance to rewrite his legacy, and he intends to have you by his side as his queen.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond fanfic #aemond fic #aemond hotd #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #house of the dragon aemond #ewan mitchell #dark aemond #dark!aemond #dark aemond targaryen #dark!aemond x reader

[lilac-den]

Hey, how are you doing? A little fluf mixed with angst aks. How would the ROs of Silverking, in a late crushing stage when they realize their feelings towards the MC, react to finding the MC staring at their mother's picture while drinking alone and saying something like:

"Hey mom, I've made some new friends in my new work... One them is this person, their name is [ROs name] and I like them, I really like them, when I'm with them I don't feel alone, but I don't think they are interested is me... I wish you were here to help me mom... You would know what to say"

I've made a similar ask before, but I guess it got lost among the other asks. It happens, so it's okay :)

Oh, thanks, anon! I did receive your previous ask (both of them) - I'm just very slow in responding to RO reaction asks cuz I tend to write them longer than I should.

However, for this, I don't think I can answer this from the RO reaction.

So, to make it up to you, I'm gonna write this when Lucifer - MC's dad - is the one who found MC in this state :D Enjoy~

"Terrorbyte?"

Lucifer calls out upon entering the apartment, frowning at how there is little light within. It's not a sight he's unfamiliar with though, especially on this day.

After all, it's a day he and [Name] can't brush aside.

He squints into the dark, the moonlight outside aiding his eyesight with its gleaming shine. There, between the couch and the coffee table, is a silhouette sitting on the floor. He recognize the shadow to be [Name] in an instant.

He feels something solid against one of his foot and looks down, taking note of a rolling, empty bottle. His frown deepens. Have they been drinking? He looks around to look for the only possible witness but finds no sign of a certain ball.

Oli must be recharging; he may be a flippant attitude sometimes with [Name] in a casual fashion, but Lucifer has acknowledge early on that he is the most loyal ally and one who cares for them just as much as Lucifer does.

The large man bends down to pick up one of the empty bottles and walks closer to the coffee table, just in time to see the state of their offspring.

[Name] is almost sitting straight, occasionally swaying left and right whilst humming a tune Lucifer can only identify as an old song from the 90s. Of course, such humming is interrupted with a sharp hiccup, which seems to be funny to [Name] as they left out a light giggle.

"Hic!" Lucifer moves to sit next to them and he sees their eyes blink. He waits patiently for them to register the form next to them, their eyes narrowing for a quick moment before [Name] blinks again and finally realizes with a wide grin.

"Poppy! Poppy pops!"

Lucifer raises a brow. Just how much did they drink? He looks at the other side of [Name] to find more bottles on the floor next to them, definitely empty given how some are on its side yet dripping only one or two drops of alcohol. Lucifer turns his gaze back to [Name] and opens his mouth when [Name] turns to the coffee table.

"Mama, look! It's good ol' pops!"

A soft twinge tugs in Lucifer and he follows [Name]'s gaze to see the picture of none other than Perida [last name]. He closes his mouth, exhaling through his nose with a forlorn gaze.

"How long have you been drinking?"

His tone is soft and lack any chiding. If this had been any other occasion, he might tear a new one. But he knew of the psychological trauma of losing a parent was severe to [Name] and while he couldn't say the same about his parents, he shared the mourning of losing Perida.

She was the love of his life after all - a fact that has never changed, even after all these years.

"Mmm..." [Name]'s brows knit with attempted focus and they pull up both hands, bringing up a finger with each count. "One...two...three..." They pause and Lucifer can almost see the hamster wheel running in their head before they throw their hands up in defeat, grinning once again. "Since I said goodbye to the sun!"

So around sunset, which could mean at most four hours ago.

"You should slow down on drinking." He comments casually. If he tries to stop them, [Name] would only take it as a challenge to push it. He can make sure [Name] doesn't attempt taking even more.

He reaches out a hand on his right, willing the figure to bring a requested item he asks it to bring. He can hear the clatter and rustles in the kitchen, more clumsy than aggressive. After a minute, a cold glass fits in his palm nicely and he brings it to [Name] with a gentle tone. "Drink."

"Mmpgh..." Their face pinch to discomfort and they shake their head. "No...No more whiskey."

"This is water." Lucifer moves the edge of the glass to their lips and [Name], like a toddler, reaches up with both hands to cup around the lower half of the cup. They drink, gulping it. "Slowly, [Name]."

Once the cup is truly empty, [Name] drops their hands down. Thankfully, Lucifer is still holding the cup so it never drop. He places the cup just as [Name] begins to talk again.

"Was just...just telling mom about them. Hic!" [Name] blinks and Lucifer doesn't need to think twice about who [Name] is talking about. After all, he's noticed the amount of time both [Name] and the team have spent time together, especially one in particular.

"Oh?" Lucifer asks and this is enough for [Name] to ramble.

"Yeah! I told her about how we met and all the funny and crazy missions we went on! "

"I wish mom was here..." The words remind Lucifer of the small space of pain inside him, one Perida's presence once filled with ease.

It has been more than a decade since Perida's passing and though Lucifer had tried his best in filling the gap, there was still a part of him that worries of not being enough. It was one of the very few things he couldn't feel confident about; his wife was a person unlike any other.

"She would know what to say."

At this, Lucifer takes notice of the slight sadness. "About what, Terrorbyte?"

Perhaps [Name] was much more inebriated than they should be because they reply without considering who they're talking to, "About [RO]."

One of Lucifer's hands twitch.

"Iiii like them." The words coming out of [Name] is a bit slurred, drawing out the first word. Then [Name] is chuckling, a forlorn smile on their face. "I like them loads! I don't feel all that lonely with them..." [Name] closes their eyes and another laugh escapes them, more in defeat than humour. "But...they're not interested in me. They're not."

"That's not true, [Name]."

They tilt their head to him, eyes halfway open but the forlorn smile is still there. "'Course it is. Who..." Their eyes begin to droop, the drowsiness weighing on their expression. "Who would...want someone like...?"

Their words trail to a stop and [Name] shuts their eyes as they drop their head upon Lucifer's shoulder, who watches the sleeping expression on their face. The man sighs through his nose, bringing his arms to wrap around their shoulder and under their knees before picking them off the ground with ease.

It feels like back then, when [Name] came home upset about the kids teasing them for having no mother and that she 'ran away from trouble'. They tried not to show it, but Lucifer knew how much that hurt [Name].

There was a likelihood of them forgetting about this or pretend like it never happened. He wants to discuss this with them, but the circumstances is just too delicate. Even if he provides reassurance, it's highly probably that [Name] seeks more from the one person causing such self-depreciation: [RO].

It's times like this that he, too, wishes Perida to be alive too. It's a longing that persists, a pain that never goes away.

But he has to be strong. For the three of them.

#silverking #snippet #Lucifer #MC

[coldgalaxyblizzard]

The Dark Forest: Chapter 1

Bryon is guiding you, Magister Merlin, through the Dark Forest. The corruption is spreading and the pattern of corrupted sites point towards a single target. How deep does the corruption and the determination of the people behind it truly go?

Note: I will not really be following canon and may put in characters that are in AFK journey but not in the canon storyline. I think I’m also attempting a slow burn? Wish me luck I guess.

Word count: 603

Bryon looks around the forest. Seeing there is nothing out of the ordinary, he faces Magister Merlin. “We should take a moment to rest here, Magister. Elona should be returning any minute now.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow. “We walked for quite a bit. Aren’t you exhausted?” 

Bryon smiles slightly at Merlin’s concern. “A bit. I think resting will do us both good.”

Merlin sighs and considers the need for rest against the urgency of eradicating the corruption as soon as possible. “I suppose that’s true. I’ll close my eyes for a bit. I used a lot more magic than I had intended in our last encounter with the corrupted creatures.”

The pair sit down near a tree and lay against the cooling bark. Bryon sighs. “It’s been a long day.”

Merlin laughs and closes their eyes. “Truly. I haven’t done this much work in a while.” 

Bryon looks over to Merlin, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “You used a lot of energy, Magister. Please rest, if just for a bit.” 

Merlin looks around, hesitant to stop their journey. They seem to come to a compromise. “I suppose I will opt for a quick nap. Could you wake me up when Elona gets here?” 

Bryon nods. “Of course. I’ll keep watch.” 

Merlin yawns. “Thanks, Bryon. Much appreciated.” They rest against the tree and close their eyes. 

Bryon, true to his word, keeps watch and listens intently to the wind for any threats. For a while, everything is peaceful. A loud rustling of the tree leaves gets Bryon’s attention. He lifts his head up towards the noise. He raises his arm and Elona appears from the forest. She perches on his arm and begins to chirp, occasionally interrupting herself to groom.

Another noise gets both of their attention, this time from the bushes. Bryon and Elona get ready for combat. A wolf jumps out, disorientated, but looking for a fight. Bryon and Elona scare it away with blasts of magical leaves and well-timed dives. Despite their best efforts, Merlin jumps back awake. 

“I’m up! What’s going on?” 

Bryon frowns at the ill-timed appearance of the wolf. “It was just a wolf. Elona and I took care of it.

Merlin yawns and smiles when they notice Elona. “I see our beloved companion has returned. Shall we get going?” 

Bryon contemplates his answer. Merlin really needs more rest, but convincing them may be a lost cause. Despite his observations, he tries to convince Merlin anyway. “We can continue to rest here for a while longer, Magister. I don’t think we shall be disturbed again.” 

“You know, I heard from others that you can be quite distant, but I think you care a lot more than you are given credit for,” Merlin notes as they stretch. 

Bryon turns his head away from Merlin, a bit embarrassed at their remark. “I appreciate the compliment. I’m just doing my job.” 

“Just take the compliment, Bryon.” Merlin giggles. They look up at the high noon sun and frown. “We really need to get going though. 

Bryon nods reluctantly. “Of course. Elona spotted some movement just up ahead.” 

Merlin responds with a mock salute. “Lead the way, captain.”

“You’ve spent too much time with Lorsan.” Merlin suspects that Bryon also rolled his eyes behind his blindfold. 

“And, despite it all, I still need work on my quips. Perhaps I can pick up a thing or too being around you and your quick wit.”

“We shall see.” Bryon returns the salute and begins to walk with Elona, as if nothing happened. 

Merlin lets out a surprised laugh and runs to catch up with the duo. 

Author’s Note: I know this is short, but I wanted to share a bit of what I wrote. Finals are no joke. I want to graduate so bad.

#afk byron x merlin #afk bryon x reader #afk bryon x merlin #afk journey x reader

[biblically-accurate-soup]

working in mental healthcare sucks sometimes

#not for reasons most people immediately think #i just have to witness firsthand the hurdles people have to jump through to get help and i can’t. do anything about it. #because although i would love it if our wait times were short and we could get people in immediately #the therapists have all full case loads. and it’s like well. what now #just feeling sorry. and bad #the mental healthcare specialist shortage is real and alive and i can do only so much to help about it #i can do what i can and let people know i sympathize. i’ve been on the other side. i swear i know how frustrating it is #i can’t do anything but i wish i could #god #most days i don’t feel this bad about it because i feel like at least i’m helping. at least there’s #another set of hands helping with the bottleneck situation. at least that’s something #some days though. i just sit here and wish i could do more #uriel posting #feel free to ignore i’m just angsting #if anyone is currently on the other end of this nightmare process i just hope you know that i see you and i wish it was better. i really do

[trashbatistrash]

,

#ngl I have a bad habit of spending too much on friends #like usually I can contain it with irls cuz I’m usually just paying for lunch and stuff like that #I think I started spending more exorbitantly because of that one ex I had back in the day #first person I long distance dated so yeah I couldn’t treat them to the usual wine and done stuff #I formed a habit of it though and like #it kinda bled through and I ended up spending more exorbitantly on friends now too 😭 #anyways this is me thinking about my one irl that I don’t see too often anymore #I got them a switch lite for one of their past birthdays but now they have to take care of their parents and like #I kinda wish I got them a proper switch so they could y’know #play multiplayer stuff with their parents #like I could get them a non OLED switch easy since I’ve spotted some sales here and there #I mean 😭 i know it’s a lot to spend on just a friend but like #they a childhood friend too #they’re not asking me for anything I just want to do something nice #maybe I can like ask them if we manage to meet face to face 😭 #anyways gotta admit after the breakup I was kinda more generous with my donations too cuz my designated gift funds were just sitting there #now that I’m thinking about bumping up my insurance I gotta start cutting these habits out man 😭 #gotta be selfish again #o(-(

[iicarused]

##my wife, my wife, my wife, my wife

y!vox x ex!reader / alastor x reader also because he stole vox’s bitch if you squint

part ii

synopsis: from this ask / reader is vox’s ex and he’s not too keen of the separation — you were supposed to come back to him! not run around with his rival and get rid of his only access of looking after you (removing any/all electronics from your life)

beware: DARK THEMES / heavy yandere aspects, obsession (vox’s end), territorial aspects, manipulation, implications of a toxic relationship / let me know if i missed anything!

he’s been watching you. what, did you think you could just leave? no, that will not do for him! you’re his wife, his lover, his other half that he cannot live without! you brought him fame and so much fortune with just your pretty face.

through the camera of your phone, the security cameras that litter hell, he’s been keeping an eye on you. however, you know that.

after a year of maintaining a relationship with one of hells overlords, you finally snapped and broke it off. the press were eating it right up. “y/n, can you tell us why you and vox are no more?” “y/n, who broke it off first?” “y/n, is there a chance you’ll both get together again?” you laughed at the last question

there was only one place in all of hell to hide — a place where no electronic bothered to exist — hazbin hotel

you came tired. hair a mess and a fluffed robe over your shoulders. “i’m begging of you, please take me in, i prefer learning some shit redemption arc than to deal with a crazy ex.” you cried. of course charlie said yes.

since then, vox has been searching for you:

“i swear to FUCK — !! “ vox heaved. when valentino walked in, the tv host seemed to pause on his theatrics. “she couldn’t have gone far.”

“face it, at this rate she’s done with you.” the moth insisted while getting comfortable on the couch.

but those words didn’t sit right with vox. the multiple screens in front of him flicked through different channels, eager just to find a clue of your whereabouts.

to say vox was pissed when finding out where you were was an understatement. a camera zooming in on the sight of you having some fresh air — right outside that stupid hotel

picking at a daisy, someone else came into the frame. alastor knelt to your side with a cup of tea, or so he assumed, sitting down next to you while basking underneath the stars. vox couldn’t hear any audio since the radio demon seemed to mess up the frequency, but he could see that familiar smile that pulled at your lips

you used to smile at him just like that

in less than a day, vox came straight to the hotel. demanding for you to come out. come on home! you both can work through it! this is just another bump in the road, there’s no need to hide!

from the balcony, your gaze settles on vox down below. you almost feel sorrowful and your heart begins to ache. sometimes you miss him, and sometimes you miss the comfort of his arms. he was a hurricane just as he was a summers day, and that was the man you fell in love with. you knew his love was sick, but that was expected from demons… right? not his though, it was far too gone to be considered a daydream.

“doll, we were meant to be!” vox pleaded, his gaze never leaving yours.

you never answered to his pleas.

“it’s that fucking radio demon, right!?” vox accused. here comes a tantrum.

you turned to face away.

“please, we were going to be overlords — together!” back to broken promises you were unsure if it were true.

a yandere is someone who is in love with you, and that’s a dream come true for anyone who wishes for love. but god, do you wish it wasn’t you.

vox never stopped sending gifts to the hotel after that. nor has he stopped coming by to the building just to try and convince you to leave. his heart is aching, and only you are his medicine.

#ᥫ᭡. #yandere!vox #vox x reader #vox x yn #vox x you #vox imagine #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader if you squint

[nanaslutt]

Bathtime w/ Fuckbuddy Satoru Gojo <3

contains: fem reader, reader is a teacher at Jujutsu High, clit play, mutual pining, teasing, so much dirty talk, possessive!Satoru if u squint

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Ahhhh...." You moaned quietly into the small space of your bathroom as the soreness from your limbs was washed away by the borderline scolding hot water that swallowed up your body. The bubbles tickled your chin as you sunk deeper, letting the water cover your body up to your neck so you appeared to be a head floating in the bath.

Gojo had been out on a mission, which meant you were in charge of teaching his students and overseeing their sparing. Only you had to get hands-on with them several times and ended up moving your body in ways you haven't moved since you were in high school. 

You were a sorcerer and you trained frequently, but in the weeks before training his students, curses had been quiet, which meant fewer missions and less moving your body. So you stayed inside most days to complete paperwork, ignoring the training you should've been doing to stay agile and keep your bones loose during the dry spell of curse appearances--and boy did it show.

Not in your performance, but in your bones. You felt your muscles straining and burning when you pulled off some showy move for the students as you avoided one of their hits. The day felt like it was dragging on forever, and each time one of his precious students asked if you would spar with them, you accepted because your ego was too big to decline because of a little soreness. 

You had plenty of time to regret it afterwards though as you lay on your floor and stretched your body, cursing at Gojo over the phone for having such energetic students. He laughed and apologized, though he didnt seem very sorry to hear you groaning and moaning in pain through the phone. All of your moans sounded the same to him, pervert. Although he did promise to make it up to you when he came home from his mission in a few days, so you let him off the hook. 

Though you were irritated, as you shut your eyes and let the Epsom salt soak into your tired body, letting the hot water creep into your skin, you couldn't find yourself to be all that mad. This felt so good, you hadn't relaxed like this in a while. You silently prayed to someone that the dry spell of curse sightings would keep up so you could relax like this more often, even though you knew that was wishful thinking. 

You let the hot water wash all of the thoughts from your head, and it must've taken some of your consciousness with it because you failed to hear the dull bang of your front door opening, followed by footsteps that got closer and closer to the outside of your bathroom door. Your entire body jolted forward when you snapped back into reality fully at the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

The adrenaline and fear from your fight or flight response didnt last long when the familiar feeling of Gojo's cursed energy flooded into your body, relaxing you almost instantly. "Oh? Did I scare you?" Gojo giggled as he pushed the door open entirely, his long frame leaning against the doorway, arms crossed as he watched you from under his blindfold.

 The bubbles had covered your chest in a way that almost looked like someone had placed them there on purpose. They came up to just above your nipples, covering the part of you Gojo wanted to see most. The rest of the suds stuck to the skin of your breasts, slowly slipping downwards at a snail's pace. If you kept your body sitting up like you were for long enough, the bubbles would surely run off your tits and reveal your pretty nipples to Gojo's eyes. 

The water still sloshed around your body from your sudden movements before you sighed and leaned back against the tub, letting the water absorb you into it once more. "Fuck, Satoru... what are you doing here? I thought you were going to be gone for another week?" You asked, trying to keep the longing out of your tone as you spoke to him, not wanting him to know you missed him as much as you did, his ego didn't need that. 

"Aww did someone miss me?" Gojo asked, tilting his head at you. "I missed you too, that's why I used you as motivation to exercise that curse as quickly as possible so I could come to you~" The teasing and playfulness in his voice both irritated and aroused you. You scoffed, turning your head away from him to stare at the very interesting blank wall of the shower as you felt a blush creep onto your face.

"Get in and close the door or leave, you're letting all the hot air out." You bit, ignoring his teasing words as you felt goosebumps tickle your arms from under your skin. "Ohhh~ Is that an invitation?" Gojo cooed, uncrossing his arms as he kicked the door shut behind him, a large hand reaching behind his head to pull off his blindfold, his beautiful blue eyes being revealed from underneath.

You kept your face unreadable as you looked back at Gojo, your greedy eyes taking in the way his arms bulged as the jacket slid off his arms, falling to the floor. It must've been hot where he was sent on the mission because instead of the signature white long-sleeve button-up shirt he usually wore under his jacket, his body was adorned in a tight black muscle shirt. One that made your mouth water with how little it left to the imagination.

"Hey, my eyes are up here. You're making me embarrassed, y'know~" Gojo whined, faux pouting as he crossed his arms over his body and pulled up the bottom of his shirt before slowly sliding it up his body, giving you a show as each row of his insanely defined abs was revealed to you. Satoru grinned at you when he pulled the shirt over his head, his hair looking ruffled and fluffy from his head being squeezed through such a tight opening. Cute.

"Don't say that like you don't stare at me shamelessly when I take off my clothes in front of you." You retort, feeling your body start to react to the show he was putting on for you. "I can't help it, you get so squirmy when I watch you, it's adorable," Gojo responded, his hands making quick work of his belt as he kept his piercing eyes on yours while he did so.

Your lip curled up slightly in embarrassment at his words. How was he able to just say stuff like that? "You touchin' yourself under there?" Gojo asked, his voice keeping the teasing tone but with the addition of something deeper now. Your jaw dropped as you stared at him incredulously, a blush spreading across your face. "Y-you-" Briefly looking down you noticed the bulge that had already formed in his pants.

He could see nothing but your head floating atop the bubbles, how was he already hard? "You have such a dirty mouth Satoru." You responded, shaking your head at him. He giggled as he finally pulled his pants and boxers off his heels, his hard cock standing at full attention, the delicious curve made it point up towards his belly. You did your best to avert your eyes, looking back at the blank wall of the shower as he got closer.

"Heh~ You're so easy to tease." He teased. "Scoot forward, make some room for me, princess." Your heart was beating out of your chest. It had only been a week and a half since Gojo had left on his mission, but your body had missed him so badly. Not a second went by that you didnt crave Satoru's presence in some way, so now that he was actually here after ten days of pining, your body didn't know what to do with all the feelings you were experiencing.

Wordlessly, you leaned forward and allowed Gojo to slide into the bath behind you. He hissed when he stuck his first foot in the bath behind your body. "Are you a masochist?? Why is the water so hot??" Gojo complained, hissing and whining under his breath after each inch of skin he sunk into the water.

His childishness eased some of the tension and embarrassment you were feeling. You smiled to yourself as he situated himself deeper into the bath, his thighs spreading around your body. "Your students pushed me to my limits, I don't think there's a muscle in my body that isn't sore." You sighed. Gojo hummed in awknowledgement as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you back agaisnt him, your back flush to his chest--which felt so much wider than you remember. 

You tried to ignore the very prominent feeling of Gojo's hard cock poking your lower back as you relaxed against him, your eyes taking in his usual porcelain skin turning red on the tops of his knees as they poked out from under the water, burned from the heat of the water. "Is your body more sensitive to heat because of your infinity? Or are you just a bitch?" You asked, staring blankly at the shower wall in front of you.

Gojo tsked at your words, his arms squeezing tighter around your body. "You could've said that last part nicer. I'm sensitive." He replied, pouting as he placed his chin on your head, staring at the same wall you were. You laughed softly, relaxing even further against him "I've always been sensitive to extreme temperatures, but I think anyone besides you would agree with me when I say this bath is just too hot."

You stayed quiet for a few seconds before you spoke again, "I think you're just a bitch." You said teasingly, smiling to yourself. Gojo pulled his head back from resting on the top of your head and looked down at your smaller frame against his as he pouted. He quickly got distracted though, forgetting your words as his eyes traced over the slope of your shoulders, the curve of your neck, and the valley between your breasts, glistening from the water.

Satoru licked his lips when an idea suddenly popped into his head. Releasing the hold he had on your body, he placed one of his hands right under your tit, the other slowly sliding down the front of your body. On instinct, you looked down, as if you could see his hands working on your body under the water. His large hand acted like it creating a path to your cunt, but right when he got to your pelvis, he changed direction and rubbed his hand down your thigh before sliding it back up, repeating that action.

"You're so mean to me sometimes..." He pouted, the hand he had holding your body against him slipping up to cup your breast, his large hand practically engulfing the entire thing as he slowly massaged it. "Satoru..." You whispered, your head pressing back against his chest. "I'm nothing but nice to you, y'know?" He continued, his hand alternating between pinching your nipple with his fingers and rubbing your entire tit in his palm.

You sighed as he touched you, your body melting under his touch. "But even though you're a bully..." Satoru's hand slid back up to your pelvis, he rubbed the area of skin right above your clit with his fingers, pressing down against the skin slowly, the same as he did when he fucked you and was trying to feel himself thrust inside you. You didn't even realize that your legs were spreading on instinct, making room for him to touch you.

You gasped quietly as you waited for him to touch you. The throbbing between your thighs was now pulsing rapidly with your need for relief the longer he teased you. "...I still want to make you feel good." He finished, his fingers releasing the pressure on your pelvis as they slid down to your pussy, his fingers finding your clit with ease as he started rubbing slow, teasing circles against it.

"Does that make me a pushover?" He whispered hotly against your ear as you gasped in a breath at the sudden striking pleasure. "Fuck-" You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as he played with your little clit expertly, his other hand rubbing his index finger in circles around your areola, much the same pace as the one on your clit. "Hm? Does it baby?" Gojo asked, his greedy mouth sucking the shell of your ear into his mouth, his tongue teasing it as his lips suctioned around it, the sensation sending goosebumps down your body.

"I-I don't know." You whined, your brain not even registering what he was saying to you as he pleasured your body. He truly knew your body like the back of his hand, he knew each and every spot that had you whining and crying for him. "You don't know?" He repeated, leaving hot kisses against your ear as he sped up the circles on your clit, adding slightly more pressure at the same time.

"You aren't listening huh? That's so mean princess. I'm going out of my way to make you feel good even after you've bullied me, and you can't even listen to me?" He cooed, making his voice higher as he teased you. His index finger and thumb pinched around the hard bud of your nipple as he rolled it between his fingers. You squirmed against his body, your legs jerking every so often causing the water to slosh around you.

Your hand gripped Gojo's wrist which was working vehemently on your pussy, making jolts of electricity shock through your body. "S-Satoru... satoru that feels good." You whined, your hair tickling his skin as your head rubbed on his chest. Gojo smiled, switching his hand to massage your other breast. "You can't think of anything other than how good you feel, huh?" He asked, kissing the spot right behind your ear.

His cock was twitching against your back after each whine and moan you released. He was so grateful you were pressed so tightly against him, your squirming giving his cock significant release as your lower back rubbed all over him. "M-mhmm-" You responded, pressing your lips together as you opened your legs wider for him. 

Gojo pressed kisses all over your neck and ear as he continued rubbing his fingers over your sensitive little bud, working you higher and higher toward your orgasm. "You're so soft. I missed you against me like this. I love holding you." Gojo whispered, his words too intimate for a fuckbudy to say, making you blush with embarrassment. "M-missed you too." You respond honestly, putting your pride aside. "You make me feel so good Satoru.." you praised, your words going straight to his cock.

"Yeah? I touch you so much better than you touch yourself huh?" He asked, his fingers quickening with his own excitement. "Y-yeah." You whine the word dragging out from between your lips. "I'm the only one who makes you feel this good, huh?" Satoru whispered, practically whining into your ear as he rutted his hips against your back. 

You groaned in response, feeling yourself almost about to tip over the edge. His hand on your tit massaged harder as he humped against you faster, the water sloshing around your body, spilling onto the floor. "Say it baby, need you to say it," Gojo begged, increasing the pressure on your clit, making your legs jerk together, trying to close around his hand when you felt the hot coil of your release wind up impossibly tighter.

"O-only you Satoru only you. F-fuck fuck I'm cumming-" Your smaller hand tightens around his wrist as you hold onto him for dear life as your orgasm wracks through your body. Satoru chases you, keeping your body pressed to his when you jerk forward, your body trying to fold in on itself when the intensity of your high. "Oh good fucking girl, take it, baby, that's it, cum for me." Gojo groaned against your ear, his hand squeezing your tit as wave after wave of your orgasm washed over you.

Satoru's cock dripped pre-cum into the water when you came, his own arousal increasing tenfold as he watched you cum. You relaxed back against his chest when you came down from your high, your head falling limply on his chest as you gasped softly, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm. "That looked like it felt so good baby, good job." He praised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Your face was flushed red with your arousal as you closed your eyes when you felt his lips touch you. "Thank you, Satoru. I really needed that." You said, rubbing your thumb on his wrist that had started caressing the spot where your thigh and hip meet. He hummed, kissing your head once more as he acknowledged your words, the hand on your tit still slowly massaging it in circles.

"Would you look at that..." Satoru spoke, making you turn your head to look up at him, wondering what he was looking at. He smirked down at you when he got a view of your face, his eyes making contact with your own. "The water is still hot." His smirk grew when you tsked and looked away from him, the white-haired man bursting into a fit of giggles as he wrapped his arms around your body. 

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fic #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jjk satoru #satoru smut #satorugojo #jujutsu satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n

[inkbybambi]

bodyguard!simon riley who takes a bullet for you —

words: 2.9k rating: e warnings: nightmares, guns/shooting, gunshot wound, hospitals, smut, creampie, cunnilingus, mentions of threats against reader, threat against reader, lowercase writing — please let me know if i missed any! notes: 18+ content, minors dni. warnings have been provided.

he's been assigned to you for two-ish years now. you weren't thrilled at first, and neither was he — but he didn't make it as obvious as you did.

"i don't need a babysitter," you had damn-near hissed when he was introduced.

"i wasn't hired to be one," he counters coolly, which only serves to irritate you further.

actively ignoring his presence — as much as you could when your company moved him into your apartment — even though you begrudgingly made room in the counters and fridge for his things, even going as far as investing into a better kettle so he could make his tea and clearing out an entire cabinet for all his tea, sugar, and steeper.

he trails you quietly as he was hired to; keeping close enough to always have you in his sights but far enough away that people wouldn't be able to clock his association to you — or so he thought.

six months into his contract with you — an unknown amount of time left, as price never answered and soon he stopped asking — he wakes in the middle of the night from a scream he never thought would come from you.

he rushes into your bedroom, gun in hand with his finger resting on the side and not the trigger. the front door is locked as he had left it, windows unbroken. he almost thinks he might've associated it with one of his own nightmares, until he sees you.

curled in on yourself, face tucked into your knees, fingers threaded through your hair as you struggle to breathe properly, hiccups and sobs breaking between your stuttered breaths.

he knocks gently on your door, not wanting to startle you. you jump just a little, regardless, but lift your head to look at him.

"'m sorry," you mumble, voice rough, "i didn't mean to wake you."

and you hadn't. you thought you were done with these awful nightmares, the ones gnawing at the edges of your mind during the day.

"'s'alright," he replies, tucking the gun into the waistband of his sleep shorts, walking carefully towards your bed. "you okay?"

the look he receives damn near breaks his heart.

he learns, that night, that an attempt had been made on your life before. more than once.

they never got close enough to do any harm, you say, but then swallow thickly and clutch your bicep where simon sees a scar that he never took notice of previously. they didn't get close enough to do anything worse, you amend, chancing a look at him.

"i had security then, too," you explain, wiping your tears with your hand, playing with the blanket. "it didn't change anything."

something shifts after that.

he starts cooking for you — with you, when there's time — and you bring him a cup of tea each morning. the bookshelf in the living room, previously only half-filled, collects simon's books. you give him the login to all your streaming services, and ignore the pointed look he gives you when he sees some trashy reality tv show in your "continue to watch" queue.

he doesn't complain much when he stands behind you during an episode, arms crossed, asking a question here and there. you sigh, exasperated at having to explain everything, telling him to sit down and you start the series from the beginning.

nine months into his contract, your nightmares become more frequent, and worse. you don't understand why. you were getting better, you cry in simon's arms after a particularly rough night.

"sometimes these things happen," he tells you softly, gently carding his fingers through your hair, tucking you under his chin.

"make them stop, please," you beg, even though you know he can't. he wishes he could.

he starts sleeping in your bed.

he's so warm, your cheek pressed into his chest, feeling more secure than you have in months when the weight of his thick, tattooed arm slings around your waist. he presses a kiss to your forehead at night, and you burrow into his side.

he starts taking the balaclava off at night.

a morning where you blessedly don't have to be up early, grey clouds hang in the sky, the promise of a storm later.

"g'mornin'," he says, voice rough with sleep, feeling him flex and stretch beneath you, groaning as his body relaxes. a flash of heat snaps through you.

"morning," you reply, only half-awake, tilting your head up to drag your lips across his jaw, prickling with stubble.

his fingers are in your hair, thick and comforting, tilting you back until his mouth slants over yours. he cradles the back of your head as his tongue slips into your mouth, hot and heavy.

the sheets rustle as he moves to lay over you, free arm resting by your head as your legs hook on his hips, trying to draw him closer to you.

he nips at your bottom lip as he rolls his hips, the heat of his cock through his boxers frazzling your brain. you mewl, his tongue back in your mouth, moving his hand to grip your waist and drag you up against him, moaning low in his throat when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties.

"fuck," you breathe out as his mouth moves over your cheek, down your jaw, kissing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"say please," he rumbles.

"simon, please," you whine, fingers curling at the base of his skull and scratching, and he snarls against your skin, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck as he tears your panties off, pushing his boxers down enough to free his cock.

you're so wet for him, slick coating your thighs as he drags his cock through your folds.

he usually takes his time — using his fingers and tongue to open them up first, wanting to feel the wet heat of their cunt and the spurt of their release to know they're relaxed and ready for him. he eats pussy like he'll die if he doesn't, will happily spend hours between your legs if you let him.

but you? he feels feral with need.

"it's big, sweet thing," he rasps into your skin, right above the mark he sucked into your skin, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. he's not trying to brag, it's just a fact.

you claw at him, the sting of open scratches burning his skin so pleasantly.

"it's okay, don't care," you pant, gripping him hard enough to leave deep crescent marks in his skin, angling your hips up to draw him into your cunt yourself.

he grips your hips with both hands, slowly pushing his thick length into you, nails digging even deeper the more he pushes in.

"feels so fucking good," he says, tongue laving over your throat to collect the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin. "could fuck you forever," he groans, your breath hitching.

you make a strangled noise low in your throat. it's been awhile since you've fucked anyone, and you've never fucked anyone as big as him before.

the stretch feels so good, though. your cunt clenches around him as he sinks in deeper, mind glazing over as you focus only on him.

"fuck," he whines when he finally seats himself fully into you, nuzzling into your neck, overwhelmed by the heat and slick, "good fucking girl, taking me so well."

he swallows thickly, waiting a couple heartbeats to enjoy this — it's been awhile for him, too.

"think you can take it, love?" and his fucking voice. you would agree to do anything as long as you could hear that rough accent along your throat, teeth skimming your skin.

"yes," you breathe out harshly, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, needing him close, close, closer.

for a man of few words, simon has a filthy mouth as he fucks into you, accompanied by groans and growls into your collar.

"never had a cunt this perfect." "fuckin' made for me." "can't wait to get my tongue in you, feel you cum on my face." "no one else can have you." "you're mine."

and you, normally far more verbal than him, are reduced to nothing more than mewls and pleas and moans for more.

you mouth and nip at his jaw when you can, wanting to mark him just as much as he's marking you. you'll be his forever if he lets you, but you'll be damned if anyone else gets to have him either.

"simon — " is the only warning you give before you cum on his cock, head thrown back as you moan through the waves of pleasure, release coating his legnth and thighs.

"that's it, baby, good girl, give it to me," he says, blunt nails digging into your waist as he grinds himself deep into you. you feel so warm and pliant, the pleasure numbing your mind as he rocks himself into you.

"wanna feel you give me one more, angel," he bites at your throat on the other side, wanting to give you matching marks. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, fucking into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and your toes curling.

you grip at him again, clawing as he fucks into you, the sound of your wet cunt taking each thrust creating a symphony with his groans and your cries. he feels so fucking good, splitting you open and making you whole, desperate for him to cum inside.

the way your nails dig into his shoulder is the sign that you're getting close, and he thrusts just a little harder, a little meaner, your cute whines growing more desperate as you walk the precipice of another orgasm.

no one's ever made you cum more than once — sometimes, not even once — and you've never been able to do it yourself either.

but simon? fucks a second orgasm out of you like it's his life mission, ankles tightening around his neck as pleasure lines your veins, shaking as he continues to hit that spot inside you as you cum, prolonging it as much as he can.

"baby — " he chokes out, sharp teeth on your shoulder, thrusts getting sloppy. the slick of your two releases sounds so loud in your bedroom, feeling the desperation as he thrusts, deeper, harder.

"cum inside," you mumble against his cheek, nails scratching at the base of his skull as he thrusts once, twice, three times — the warmth of his release flooding your cunt.

he fists the sheets in one hand, nails dragging down your thigh as he pumps deep into you, your slick and his release seeping out of your hole, dripping down his balls and your asshole.

you stay like that, lips brushing, breathing in each other's air as you slowly come down from the high.

simon gently — so gently — lowers your legs, carefully watching your face for any signs of discomfort, settling them on his hips, hands moving up and down your thighs. "y'alright?" he asks. you swallow thickly and nod, both hands now at the base of his skull, affectionately scratching at the nape of his neck.

he slowly pulls out, and you miss the stretch and the warmth immediately. you push up on your elbows, watching as the mixture of your pleasure leaks out of you, biting you lip.

"fuckin' beautiful," he says almost reverently, mesmerized.

he spends the next hour cleaning you up, and you think your nails create permanent marks on his shoulders.

time bleeds together.

his contract renews on the twelfth month.

he heard rumors that price might switch him out for another guard.

you're at the meeting — it's your bodyguard, after all, they figure you should get some input. price has two separate folders prepared. a sharp look from simon is all price needed to know about how he feels. the tongue lashing you give your higher ups has price raising his eyebrows, and simon sits forward a little more should he need to haul you out over his shoulder.

he wouldn't mind that too much, he thinks, but he'd rather not.

ten minutes later and you're angrily signing his renewal papers, a blotch of ink at the start of your name as you didn't even read the contract before signing, lungs burning from your rant about personal safety and what the fuck are you thinking and i didn't just buy an entirely new tea set for nothing.

you grip his wrist as soon as he signs himself, dragging him to the nearest bathroom.

his hand covers your mouth as he fucks you deep and slow.

"don't worry, darling, 'm not going anywhere."

eighteen months into his contract, and he's never felt so little control before in his life.

he's meticulous, prepared, tactile.

there's a gun in his holster for distance threats and a knife in his sheath for those who dare get too close.

he makes sure to memorize the exists before you even get to the venue, now making no effort to conceal himself.

he's like a shadow, or a guard dog.

you've never felt more secure. more protected.

until —

he doesn't know how it slipped past him.

he let his eyes linger a little too long on the curve of your neck, where a new diamond pendant lay with his initial engraved on the back. he admires the dip of the dress you wear, open-back that shows the enticing expanse of your back, the dress covering you above the curve of your ass. you look back at him briefly while whomever you're with speaks, eyes sparkling in the bright light of the room, a smile reserved just for him.

he hears the cock of a hammer and his eyes snap to a gentleman who brandishes a gun like he's never held one before in his life. his eyes, though. his eyes are like fire, black with rage, staring at you with such hatred.

you look one second too late.

simon is on you right after the click of the trigger, pushing you to the floor and caging you with his body.

"stay down and don't fucking move," he growls as he reaches for his own weapon, up in a flash.

you can't hear anything except white noise and screams that sound muffled, heart pounding and making it hard to breathe. two shots ring out, in tandem, and there's the telltale sign of a body hitting the floor.

simon is by your side, eyes scanning, frantic, looking for any signs of harm.

"you okay?" he asks, carefully outstretching his hands to let you stop him from touching you should you want. you don't.

"fine," your voice cracks, and you can't stop shaking.

"you're okay, you're okay," he says, cradling your cheeks, thumbs wiping under your eyes. "i'm so fucking sorry," he adds, guilt heavy in his chest.

you grab his wrists lightly, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look him over. you gasp, unable to catch a real breath, unable to look away from his stomach.

"simon — " you say, horror laced in your voice.

he looks down, seeing the red seep through his shirt.

fuck.

at least it wasn't you, he tells himself.

nineteen months into his contract, and he isn't dead.

while he's been shot before — a fact he tells you, assuming it would comfort you, but only got him a venomous glare in return — it's been awhile.

the hospital, the stitches, the gauze and needles. he hated it then and he hates it now.

price comes to you in the hospital — they're keeping simon for a little, to make sure there's no complications with his healing — offering another guard in the interim while simon recovers.

you've never shot down a proposal so quickly in your life. the nerve.

twenty-two months into his contract, and the last of the moving boxes are taped shut and labeled. some of them in your writing, the others in his. the keys to your new house are tucked into his pocket, alongside a black velvet box.

"why do we have so much shit," you whine when packing, only two boxes deep and so many rooms left to go. you're too busy stuffing a manatee shaped steeper into a box — mana-tea, you giggled when he opened it, him rolling his eyes fondly in reply — and don't see him pause, looking at you softer, never hearing "we" before like that. never dreaming he could hear it like that.

a lot of stalling on your part and encouragement on his, and the last box is packed and placed in the back of the truck.

he laces your fingers together as you drive to the new house, a bottle of champagne already chilled.

twenty four months into his contract, and you come home with something hidden behind your back.

you smile like you have a secret, which would be a first.

it's awkward to bring around from your back, but there's a large german shepard puppy wiggling in your grip, tail wagging furiously.

he feels his heart stop for a moment, unable to take his eyes off the puppy, and then the band that's sitting around your finger. he touches his own subconsciously.

you set the ball of fur down, who immediately launches at simon, whining and wiggling and trying to give him kisses.

there's a collar and tag already there, and you watch with your heart beating faster than ever, unable to stop the smile on your lips, as he wrangles the pup enough to read it.

riley.

#ink by bambi #simon riley/reader #simon riley x reader #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #simon riley/you #simon riley x you #modern warfare imagine #modern warfare fanfic #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #mondern warfare smut

[aballadforbarbatos]

diavolo makes a pact with you

well, you never know

once upon a time, he brought it up to lucifer and barbatos

they shot him down immediately

receiving a lecture is bad enough but imagine receiving one from BOTH lucifer and barbatos

rip

he takes it like a champ tho. he’s way better than me cause i hate getting told off

years pass

the devil’s pudding event happens. diavolo almost learns his lesson that day.

like he says he has but there’s a lot of times where that memory crosses his mind and he sits there like huh. wish that could happen again

YOU learnt the lesson though, so it’ll NEVER happen again

if he brings it up on his birthday there’s a good chance you will look at him with disdain

he’s catching up on paperwork when something crosses his mind

maybe you’d be more into it if you had a pact with him?

the lecture he got from his two closest friends though was pretty awful though

but…

what if it was in secret?

what if, and he’s just throwing out ideas here, he gave lucifer a ton of work and made barbatos go on holiday and summoned you to his castle?

hypothetically.

you know, a will-never-happen scenario.

barbatos appears at his door soon after that.

“hey, barbatos. what did you need?”

“oh… nothing. i just got a bad feeling, that’s all.”

oops

another year goes by and the idea pops into his head again, about the same time as he sees you cuddling up with mammon

Right.

diavolo’s situation and this isn’t even remotely the same, because you don’t need a pact to cuddle and mammon is your first so he’s on a separate level altogether, but he chooses to ignore these details

it’s barbatos’ birthday. he gets sent off. hearing complaints, diavolo threatens him with two weeks

lucifer weirdly gets hit with a ton of work randomly. damn that’s crazy huh. do your best!!!

and you are summoned to the castle. you also get a bad feeling.

he tries to convince you that having a pact with him is a good idea

(some people are normal about this; i am not and wouldn’t need convincing personally)

you refuse.

if you bring this up to lucifer if he asks about your visit he is so screwed

ah, but maybe he could make you his unwilling partner in crime…?

pulls a lucifer and forces it on you. suddenly you have a big fancy mark around your neck.

he’s pretty proud of it. you cover your face with your hands and go oh my god.

it feels like it could be exasperation but he would really prefer for it to not be that

lucifer asks what diavolo wanted you for and you weakly say it was for new clothes. new clothes that conveniently hide your collarbone

all of this is unraveled when someone (mammon) walks in on you getting dressed and screams bloody murder about the weird MARK on your neck

pacts are permanent and so is diavolo getting lectured

#it’s been a while #that’s cause i spend money on obey me #but i have no spendable money rn #anyway here’s content sorry for the dry spell #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me mc #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #obey me barbatos #obey me lucifer #obey me pacts

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[alastorss]

a/n: hihi @bri22222 !! tumblr for some reason ate your ask in my inbox but here is the cat demon!reader taking care of sick alastor request you sent <3 i hope you like it!

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You had taken it upon yourself to become Alastor's own personal nurse when he got sick, despite his outspoken displeasure in being babied.

He was an Overlord, for god's sake, and one of the most feared at that. There was a certain irritation in him when you would show up to his room (which didn't even have a bed in it until he fell ill and you decided to push one in yourself, much to his dismay).

You'd sport all kinds of goods; warm jambalaya, his own mother's recipe, that he would deny even though he was itching to eat it. Some cough drops that tasted horribly of sickly sweet honey and lemon. Fresh boxes of tissues since he was going through them faster than you could imagine.

The worst of them all was when you would show up at the foot of his bed with little rodents, eyes wide and expectant for praise that would never come. Then you'd settle in his bed, curled up in his lap like you owned the place, and fall asleep.

While the warmth was nice, which he would never admit, and he liked the feeling of his hand smoothing down the hair between your set of drooping feline ears, he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

"You know," he starts one day when you sit at the edge of his bed, straightening out the duvet as you do. "I do wish you would stop fretting over me."

"You're sick," you deadpan. "And you took care of me when I was sick. At least let me return the favour."

He grimaces, remembering how miserable you looked when you caught a nasty flu a few months ago. Who knew cats were so pitiful when sick?

"Really, dear, it's fine! I was just helping a friend."

You frown, unconvinced. "And I'm just helping you back! Come on, you can barely go downstairs to get food by yourself."

"I'm perfectly fine!" He mutters between his grit teeth, smiling bordering on baring his fangs at you. Unfortunately, he doesn't do a very good job at intimidating you. Not after you've already seen his soft side of clinging to you like you're his personal heater.

Of course, his cursed demon body decides to betray him at that exact moment and he falls into a coughing fit, sputtering as he rakes in sharp breaths of air.

You're quick to climb over the bed to him, straddling his lap and forcing him to drink from his glass of water. He glares at you but drinks without refusal.

Alastor is the Radio Demon. Owner of souls. Entertainer extraordinaire. Yet here he is, taken down by a pathetic fever and being coddled by his favourite feline.

He carefully pinches your tail to get you to pull away from him, yelping in the process. "I'm fine," he hisses. "I don't need your help. I don't need to be taken care of!"

Your ears flatten against your head at his tone and you scramble off of his lap, cowering like a wounded animal.

For a moment he feels a flash of remorse, or whatever feeling has replaced what would be guilt in that black heart of his. He even considers opening his mouth to say something more reassuring. But then you scurry out of the room and slam the door behind you. His ears ring from the echo of it, then deathly silence follows.

Alastor reaches over to drink from his water glass on his own, only to realize it was knocked over in the commotion.

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He counts the days that pass, subconsciously or not, and feels his smile shrinking by each daylight.

Sure, he was quick to temper, but he had never lashed out at you before. It's an awful feeling that sinks into his stomach, making him dread what's to come when he fully recovers.

Worst of all, he was wrong. He does need your help.

It was peaceful at first and he enjoyed the silence that came without your company. However, he hadn't realized how accustomed he had grown to your ambient presence.

How had he never realized you were so loud when you made your entrances, or that you purred ever so slightly when he scratched just behind your ears? And was he really so weak that he was thinking of apologizing? He can't stand the idea that he may have frightened or hurt you.

It used to be so easy for him to sit with his own thoughts. Nowadays it's hard without getting to hear about your day or getting to fluster you with his incessant teasing.

He's cold, too. He would gladly let you fetch him a hundred rodents if it meant getting to hold onto you in his sick state.

On the fifth day, he decides he's had enough. The demon doesn't even bother knocking, instead opting to materialize from the shadows and jumpscare you from behind.

"I'm..." he seethes through his teeth, eyes thin and twitching.

You tilt your head at him curiously, prickled hairs flattening back down as confusion replaces your adrenaline. "You... what?"

"I'm sorry," he finally manages to get out, though it comes strained and awkward. Still, he swallows his pride and avoids your eyes while he continues. "I was wrong."

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, intrigued by the sight of such a powerful Overlord trying to do something as uncharacteristic as apologize. In the end, you can't contain your laughter.

He glowers at you as you topple over in your bed in a fit of giggles, wiping away the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, you sap. Come here!" You sit up and open your arms wide, a big, cheeky (and smug) grin spreading across your face.

Grumbling, Alastor shuffles into your bed and collapses into you, effectively crushing you under him. You don't seem to care, arms tugging him closer and tail brushing over his body.

"You missed me that much?"

"One more word out of you and I am leaving."

"Aww, so that's a yes?"

The Radio Demon only sighs, heavy eyes drifting shut in your warmth.

"Don't get it twisted, dearest. I will not be thanking you for putting rats in my sheets every morning."

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria (send an ask to be added!)

#🍓 faye's thoughts <3 #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fluff #alastor headcanons #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin fic #alastor fic #radio demon #radio demon x reader

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Bruce is the one to invite Constantine over, and no, it's not to improve his tenuous working relationship with the asshole. It's the opposite of that.

---

Danny had become a frequent visitor of Wayne Manor in the last few months, and Bruce had to admit that while the kid was certainly a bit ominous for his liking for a partner to Tim, he was a generally kind and happy soul. They'd been dating for a lot longer than the Bats knew of- Kon had been the one to let it slip to Jon who told Damian and so on- and since the relationship was no longer secret, Tim brings him to family functions.

The thing about Danny is... He's dead. More than half of the time. Which again, is not Ideal for Bruce's wishes for Tim's future husband, but it also means that he reviles in being alive. Danny is downright joyous about using his time left on earth properly. He makes Tim eat real food, enjoy real sleep and generally live a more fulfilled life than he had been. The whole family noticed the changes in Tim, and it made them like Danny even more.

So after a particularly grueling day of dealing with Trigon and therefore the JLD's lack of coordination and sensible planning- Bruce gets the idea. John couldn't fucking contain himself admonishing Bruce, and perhaps it was vindictive, but Bruce figures that John should meet Danny. Sans context of course.

...

John is really over dealing with Batman's prissy, over complicated and perfectionist attitude. Come to the Cave he'd demanded, as though John didn't have a favorite bar to get back to, deal with a ghost he ordered like John didn't have other priorities than some random shade.

When walking into the space however, the second his teleportation portal closed, John knew something was deeply, deeply fucked. The shadows were growing longer, the second hand on his watch ticked slower, the air smelled of sulfur and... Red Robin was sitting working at the computer like nothing was wrong. But what was wrong, was the kid was marked by The End. Marked by The Infinite. FUCK.

John knew Death, the Endless, and knew she could pick favorites just like her siblings (Dream's immortal drinking buddy comes to mind). But this wasn't her work, this was something other.

"Mate- the Bat said there was a ghost?" John feels like he might throw up, the eerie atmosphere complicating what should have been a simple request.

"Uh, obviously." The kid didn't even look over from his screen or pause his typing.

John slowly approached, looking over each shoulder a few times, turning in a few circles as the shadows appeared to dance and echo within the cave. He could see his breath, the air became so cold so suddenly. And then, with the gentleness of a pin drop, a new agonizing sound appeared with a Kid walking down the cave stairs. The aura of the room turned dark, every cell in John's body screaming to run, that this was basically the little girl from the ring crawling through the TV as the young man walked down the steps.

"Babe, your grampa says that dinners going to be ready in a second. Oh, uh, hey dude." The creature speaks, turning his eyes to John for only a moment to study him. It feels equivalent to a butterfly being pinned by its wings.

"Y-y-you, you're, you're one of the Endless?" John stutters, his body reacting in fear despite the nonchalant posture of the Beast. The young man rolls his eyes.

"Nah, one of the Ancients but like uh, I'm new in town. And hon seriously don't be late, A made tiramisu for dessert and you're not allowed to have any if you're late and I don't want to deal with you pouting."

"You had me at Tiramisu!" Red stands up from his computer and then turns, "John, what are you doing here again?" Red Robin finally looks over at him, completely confused.

"Just leaving." John mutters, his eyes still trained on the ANCIENT.

---

Bruce could barely hide his laugh when Tim reported the Magician meeting Danny in the cave.

That'll show the asshole to question Batman's knowledge of the occult.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #braindead ship #deadtired ship #timxdanny #bruce approves of their relationship and not just cause he can laud it over constantines head #bruce beefing with constantine #danny is an ancient #also works for ghost king au's but im kind of burned out on those rn #also works for literally any other ship or adoption au technically but my shipper heart must beat on #john constantine #mentioned sandman comics

[chososdiscordkitten]

How jjk men peel your oranges!

Choso, Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Gojo nd Hiromi

tw: None! one link in hiromi's lol

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Choso Kamo

He would peel it for you without hesitation or question. Say you were watching a movie with him on the couch, seeing the main character munch on some delicious looking orange slices. Mouth watering by just looking at them.

All you had to mumble was a quiet, “God, I wish I had an orange right now.” to yourself as he tried to remember if there were any oranges in the kitchen before he stood up. Placing a napkin on the coffee table as he peeled it, trying his best to not make a mess. Plucking a slice from it and handing it to you, “Thank youu-” you hummed, earning a small ‘mhm’ from him.

Leaning your head on his shoulder before he continued to peel off the rest of it. When he finished peeling it, he'd try to pluck the little white bits off of it too. Just to make sure you had the best parts.

Not even asking if you wanted him to bring you one, or asking if you wanted him to peel it. He just did it for you. Choso, my beautiful, 'I show my love in acts of service' bf

Toji Zenin

Hesitatingly he would. Having lunch with him between his jobs, you were talking about something that had happened earlier that day.

Peeling the orange in your own hands, really just taking small pieces off one by one. His eyes kept flashing down to your hands, getting more and more irked by how poorly you were peeling it.

“And I told him-” you were interrupted, he took the sadly peeled orange from your hands with small grumbles.

“Just makin’ a mess-” he huffed, peeling it carefully in his calloused hands as you watched with furrowed eyebrows. He peeled it in the way to form a spiral, trying to avoid the places you had already peeled.

You tried to tell him it was fine- that you could do it. “The things I do for you.” he mumbled in a stern tone, almost cursing himself for what he was doing.

When the orange was bare, he parted the slices for you, placing them on the napkin you had laid out that did a poor job at containing the mess you were making. Taking one for himself to reward his efforts. 

Sukuna

No. “You're more than capable of peeling it yourself. You're not special.”

Kento Nanami

Would peel it flawlessly, no white parts left on it. You were sitting on his living room couch trying to finish a proposal for your job, legs taking up most of the couch, rubbing your forehead in frustration.

Nanami saw how upset you looked, and thought of a way to make you feel even a little better. Standing in the kitchen as he peeled two oranges for you, humming a small tune as he gathered all the rinds before tossing them in the trash.

Placing the perfect film-like slices into a small bowl and pouring a glass of water before walking back to the couch.

“Here.” he hummed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His heart clenched when you looked at him with tired eyes.

“Awe, thank you Kento-” you cooed, taking the bowl in your hands. Seeing him place the glass of water on the coffee table before lifting your legs from the couch, sitting down and placing them back on his lap.

One hand rubbing your shin lovingly as he picked up the book on the side table, prying it open before reading. 

Suguru Geto

Would ask you if you wanted him to peel it for you. Eating lunch with him, “I brought you something-” he smiled, his tone warm. Hearing a curious hum come from you, “Remember you told me you hadn't had an orange in a while?” before presenting the fruit to you.

A small gasp left you, smiling before reaching to take it. “Thank you Sugu-” you started, seeing him pull his hand back.

“You don't want me to peel it for you?” he asked, tone serious as though that was the only reason he brought it to you.

“If you want to-” you started, seeing him scoff before taking the small knife on the table and starting to peel it slowly. “So fancy.” you commented, seeing him focus on not tearing the spiral forming from the rind.

“I hate getting the rind under my nails.” he mumbled, focusing on the small fruit in his hands.

“And that's why I haven't eaten one in so long.” you laughed. He tried his best to cut off only the rind- but a few pieces of the orange ended up being taken off. He split it in half before handing you the bigger slices. 

Satoru Gojo

Would peel it in a way that made you regret even bringing up oranges. Walking around the school's campus, hearing him talk about how much potential his students had.

Seeing you fiddle with the small orange in your hands, “You gonna eat that or?” he smiled, pulling you out of your own thoughts. You furrowed your eyebrows looking at him, before you realized what he was talking about.

“Oh- I was waiting till I found a napkin. Don't wanna make a mess.” you hummed, his face lit up. Taking it from your hands and smiling/

“This is one of my best tricks-” he giggled, holding the orange between his palms.

“You should let other people tell you they're the best.” you joked, seeing him clap his palms together. Face falling when you realized he warped your orange.

You didn't speak to him till he presented you with a perfectly peeled one, “It doesn't even have the white stuff on it!” he defended, trying to convince you to forgive him.

Pouting as he watched you eat it. “I can’t even have one slice?” he whined, seeing you purposefully make the orange look like it was the most delicious thing you've ever eaten.

“You don't even deserve the rind.” You hummed, seeing him slump in his seat.

Hiromi Higuruma

Would peel it, but in an inconvenient way. Would be having breakfast with you, seeing an unsliced orange next to your plate. Taking it in his hands and looking at you with a stoic face.

“When I was a kid-” he started, peeling the orange tactfully. Watching his hands as you blinked at him. All ears, thinking this was going to be some kind of serious talk.

“I could never figure out how to peel an orange properly.” he scoffed, trying to hold in a hearty laugh. Seeing your eyebrows furrowed almost asking where this was going. “And one day, my father-” he smiled, looking at you with soft eyes.

“-taught me how to peel one, but he said I could only peel them this way for one person.” his fingers ripping the rind and placing the small bits on his plate. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at the small peel in his hands.

“I didn't understand why-” placing the peeled orange on your plate, “Till he told me that the way into a person's heart- is through laughter.” he finished, looking at you with a strained expression trying not to let out a laugh.

There on your plate, a little orange man staring at you. You gave him a defeated laugh you tried to hold in. In the end he only made a mess, and made the orange warm from how much he molded it in his hands. But the gesture was sweet.

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I had so much fun writing this lol. sum short nd sweet. I keep seeing this topic all over twt so here's my two cents.

#jjk #choso my beloved #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu geto #geto x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #choso x reader #higuruma x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk higuruma #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso fluff #nanami fluff #gojo fluff #geto fluff #toji fluff #higuruma fluff #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen anime #jjk x you #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x chubby reader