[Robert is briefing Waterboy on a bodyguard mission after the nervous water user and client seem to hit it off, later he's talking to R/n about it and the janitor seemed spooked when Robert mentioned the client's name.]
R/n: [Client], [Client's full name]?
Robert: Yeah how did you know?
R/n: She was my art teacher back in high school, she's fucking insane!
Prism: Insane how?
R/n: She had a habit of acting out scenes from movies she recently watched.
Invisigal: Why's that so bad? I've done that few times.
R/n: Really, did you also start prank calling and hunting down teenagers after watching Scream? 'cos she that's why she got arrested.
Robert: What? No way, she seemed like a normal old lady to me.
R/n: Yeah, when she's on her meds.
[Robert tried to call Waterboy back, but was getting no response everyone goes to the front lobby and runs into Punch up.]
Robert: Have you seen Waterboy?
Punch up: Uh, the lad just left with {Client] a couple minutes ago after she was done with her movie.
Robert: What movie?
Punch up: I don't remember, I think there was a man dressed like a lady?
Invisigal: The Birdcage?
Prisim: Mrs. Doubtfire?
Sonar: Some like it hot?
Malevola: Tootsie?
Flambae: The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert?
Punch: Ah...no. None of those, there was lady in a shower and screechy violin music.
R/n: Psycho?!
Punch up: Aye, that was it! *notices everyone is panicked* What?
[Cut to Malevola tracking Waterboy down to an old motel where she finds him awkwardly standing over a knocked out {Client] who had a knife in her hand, apparently she was getting ready to stab Waterboy when she slipped on one of the puddles trailing behind him and knocked herself out.]
Waterboy: Er...is, is this gonna get me in trouble?
“They’re like two seconds away from fucking, Dick,” you say.
“We could be like two seconds away from fucking in real life if you would just look at me,” he huffs.
or the one where you pay attention to your book more than him.
content: suggestive, mentions of an erection, dick trying oh so hard to get frisky
masterlist
You’re so zoned in on your book you barely hear the window snap shut when Dick enters. You do, though. Your eyes fluttering over to him for that brief second tells him you had heard him come in and were electively choosing to ignore his return.
Your book was just getting to the good bit. The male lead had just confessed his feelings, his desires, buttons were coming undone, lips were locked. Zippers were undone.
Dick’s first mistake was trying to take the book from you by force. One hand around the spine of the book, slowly threatening to snap it shut as he attempts to inch it out of your grasp.
“I’m reading, Dick,” you hum, eyes still skimming over the words half-mindedly as you tug the book further from his fingertips. His head tips forward with a groan, falling until it’s pressed against your navel above the covers. He’s still half-standing, half-kneeling at the edge of the bed. Ready to snatch your book away and stow it on the dresser where you can’t grab it from the bed.
He noses his way up your sheet-covered sternum until he’s headbutting the paperback. Another grunt.
“Baby,” he purrs, low and silken. His lips have now replaced his nose in his trail despite the roadblock. You decide to placate him with a hand in his hair, the other spread wide to keep your pages from fluttering shut. Not yet deterred, he crawls further on the bed to attack you from the side this time. Kissing and nipping his way up your shoulder until you have to tilt your neck to look around him to see the pages.
“I have like ten pages left of this chapter,” you say as you try to shove his forehead out of the way.
“You know, once upon a time you would’ve jumped me the second I crawled through the window,” he grumbles. “Does the suit do nothing to you now? Are you immune to my charms?”
“The suit is great,” you say.
“Real convincing.”
“Just go take a shower. I’m sure I’ll be done by the time you get back and you can have me all to yourself,” you say. Shit. You lost your place. Your eyes quickly skim back across the paragraphs to find the last bit you remember actually reading.
“We both know that you’re going to start the next chapter while I’m in there,” he says. His teeth find purchase just below your ear. “Pay attention to me, baby.”
“I will.” You flip a page. “In eight pages.”
A louder groan as he presses his face further into your neck.
“They’re like two seconds away from fucking, Dick,” you say.
“We could be like two seconds away from fucking in real life if you would just look at me,” he huffs, though his seduction attempts have settled. If he weren’t still suited up for crime-fighting, you figure he might have fallen asleep where he was. He settles for draping an arm over your waist and fiddling with the shirt you’d stolen from him as his gaze skims over the various erotic phrases in your book.
“Did he just bite her? Is she bleeding?” he asks. “Is she into that… Scratch that, are you into that?”
“He’s a vampire,” you snort.
“So you’re definitely into that then,” he says in the absence of your no.
“No- well, I mean… It’s hot in theory,” you hum.
“You want me to bite you is what I’m hearing,” he says. His hips shift and you can feel the stirring of his dick against your thigh.
“I feel like you want to bite me, mister,” you laugh.
“I wanna do whatever you want me to do,” he laughs, too, but you can tell he means it all the while. His teeth graze the junction of where your shoulder meets your neck and you know he can feel the shiver it shot down your spine when he grins against your skin. “You do like that. Is that all it takes, sweetheart? A little bit of teeth and you finally give me a reaction.”
Harder, this time, he bites down on your exposed flesh. Not even to harm, or even really to mark, but enough for you to feel. Fingers dance along your naval as he tugs your shirt up just enough to find bare flesh. The pads of his gloved fingers press into your skin and it’s nearly enough to pull you from your book. Nearly. You can’t fight the nagging voice in your head that urges you to keep going. To see if the characters will just finally-
“Oh,” you gasp when Dick nips at your pulse point. Your eyes grow lidded when he begins to suck and your head tilts to give him more room. Finally, when your brain’s gone mushy enough to stop even trying to move your eyes across the inky blob of words, Dick’s hand swiftly comes up to pluck the book from your grasp and snap the book shut. He tosses it towards the edge of the bed, immediately shifting to fill the space above you it had previously been occupying. Knees bracketing your hips, lips moving along your jaw, your cheeks, then finally, your lips.
You don’t even care that he didn’t put a bookmark in.
begging for a part 2 of toph playing with your tits where she sucks on them pls I need it so bad 😔
but of course! part one
｡𖦹°‧ toph beifong who loves sucking on your tits.
morning light filtered through the window, hitting your face and forcing you awake. eyes still foggy, your hand immediately reached out to feel for your girlfriend, but she wasn't lying next to you.
actually, she was right on top of you.
your shirt had been peeled off at some point—you had no clue when—and toph was already topless, too. she laid with her chest pressed against yours, mouth suckling on one nipple while her fingers fondled the other.
"t-toph!" you moaned, trying to sit up, but she pinned you down.
"stay still," she murmured against your skin, chin damp with saliva as she focused on you. her eyes were fluttered shut, completely lost in the sensation of your nipple in her mouth. "tastes too good to stop." she slurred.
you always knew toph was the type of woman to take what she wanted, and your body was never an exception. laughing softly, you reached up to gently caress the back of her head, she moaned quietly at the feel of it.
"you just couldn't help yourself, could you? had to play with me while i was still sound asleep?"
toph groaned against you, her tongue flicking the sensitive peak before she pulled back to blow a cool breath against your nipple. you hissed in pleasure.
"sorry, baby," she whispered tiredly. "your body was right there. ready for me. besides, you didn't let me suck on them last time, so i'm making up for it."
hmm.. i could see a young fawn turned doe, around the same age as tilly or so, taking an interest in him— and it’s hard for her not to. hot summers and hormones don’t help her when he’s working on the camp’s needed chores. chopping wood and hauling his hunts to pearson’s block did nothing but wonders for arthur’s muscles, tucked tightly in his rolled up sleeves. she’s inexperienced, but knowledgeable of the words in mary-beth’s books and quiet night conversations about the subject through passing school-girl giggles. she’s curious, and wants to know what it’s like, looking and leaning towards arthur as a safe choice to teach her. how long he’d be able to resist that temptation .. time would eventually tell. but i think he could be convinced, depending on however old she may be.
🗒️ ; 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 I͙⭑ NSFW | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
cherry-popping. talking reader through it. coaxing.
you were right to confide in arthur, gentle and sweet arthur. deviant, but kind in his gestures. his lips were warm and surprisingly soft with how often he smoked, how many splits the sun gave them. rich enough in kisses that proved he wanted to be in this bed just as badly as you did. he was slow, sure to be calm in pushing it in. it’d been years since arthur sank himself into a woman, and even longer so in being her first. he paced himself, breathing hefty enough to feel the tight pressure of your pussy cling to his thick cock, but steady enough not to lose his control. he was a man, not a boy. you didn’t want the boyish options at hand; you wanted him. he who could wield the axe so lightly uses the same frame to fuck himself deeper into your virgin hole; one never used before.
“ya alright, sweetheart .ᐣ ” he asks, broad shoulders beaming with a sweat glow from the nearby oil lamp. arthur’s efforts were showing; laying you on your back so it would hurt less, renting a room to allow you as long as it may need, gentle confirmations to keep going. “mhmm.” you nod in approval; tears peaking at the corners of your eyes, ready to take all he has to offer.
“you hafta breathe, darling.” arthur cood, keeping his eyes locked with yours, sweet missionary forcing you underneath him to listen. the pain peaked as he pushed, your back tightened at the prodding intrusion. “breathe, breathe.” arthur reminded you, ever-so-slightly pulling just to push again. his hips moved agonizingly slow, but he planned for this— he’d take as long as it needed to see this through.
SEND IN YOUR THOUGHTS HERE ✉️ ➠ 🌟
DIVIDER CREDITS ➠ 🌟
it strikes simon now that he hasnt told anybody about you. your or your new born. his new born.
he looks down at Bella riley and shrugs his shoulders. "found it," he replies and she babbles, clapping her hand. a lot more chatty than her father.
"who does it belong to?" johnny asks him.
simon shrugs his shoulders. "dunno," he says and gives her his finger to hold.
Bella wasn't supposed with her dad. but you were sick and you just needed a night to yourself. so simon has her strapped to his chest. one of her shoes is already missing, her sock threatening to follow.
and he looks content in a way the boys haven't seen.
"she yours?" kyle asks.
simon picks Bella up from her carrier. he observes her, as if hes trying to work it out. "think so," he says and puts her back.
she laughs and claps, legs kicking as she reaches for her uncle soap. oh yeah, this is simons kid all right
A watercolor painting of a swimmer encoutering some sapphic mermaids, edited slightly for tumblr. (The titty-out version is over on my bluesky at juliedillon.bsky.social )
Hi hi thank you so much for your last sb fic (the adhd one, I keep reading it when stuff gets hard 🥺) I have another request if you don’t mind <3
so I also have nightmares bc of stress sometimes and it’s hard to wake up from them but when I do I just sit up quietly but my heart is pounding rlly fast and I kind of get the thousand yard stare until I calm down and trying to stop thinking about it is hard too since it feels like I’m still in the nightmare sometimes :( so I was wondering if you could write something where the saja boys help the reader through something like that since I deal with them on my own? Thank you again and I hope it doesn’t sound like too much :’)
NOTHING CAN REACH YOU HERE — SAJA BOYS
𝜗ৎ pairing : saja boys x fem!reader ⟡ ݁ ₊ . 𑣲 word count : 2,130 𑣲 genre : fluffy, romance, comfort ₊ ˚ ⊹ ᰔ 𑣲 content contains : nightmares, stress-induced nightmares, anxiety attacks, crying, hurt/comfort ⋆ . ˚
. 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𓊆ྀི stay here with me𓊇ྀི ⋆ ˙ ⟡ .
ABBY ꫂ᭪
abs wakes up confused at first because he’s used to you moving around in your sleep sometimes.
but this is different.
he sits up groggily, muscles shifting beneath his tank top, only to immediately notice the way you’re staring blankly ahead with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself.
your breathing sounds uneven.
panicked.
“hey,” he says quietly, voice still rough from sleep.
you don’t answer.
abs’ entire expression changes instantly.
he moves closer immediately, large hands settling carefully over your wrists where you’re holding yourself too tightly.
“baby, look at me.”
your eyes finally shift toward him.
glassy.
terrified.
his heart sinks.
“nightmare?”
you nod weakly.
abs softens so fast it almost hurts.
“c’mere.”
he pulls you directly into his chest without hesitation, wrapping both arms around you completely until you’re practically folded into his lap.
warm.
safe.
solid.
one of his hands cradles the back of your head while the other rubs slowly up and down your spine.
“you’re okay,” he murmurs against your hairline.
“i’ve got you.”
your breathing still shakes.
so abs just keeps holding you tighter.
steady enough to remind your body you’re here now.
not there anymore.
“feel me?” he whispers softly.
you nod against his chest.
“good.”
he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“stay here with me for a minute.”
and you do.
until your heartbeat finally stops trying to escape your chest.
JINU ꫂ᭪
jinu notices before he’s even fully awake.
the tension.
the fear.
it lingers in the room like smoke.
his eyes open slowly to find you sitting frozen beside him, staring at nothing with tears silently slipping down your cheeks.
you look haunted.
that’s what makes his chest ache.
“little one,” he says quietly.
your shoulders tense immediately.
still stuck halfway in the nightmare.
jinu sits up beside you slowly before reaching toward your face with impossible gentleness.
his thumb brushes beneath your eye, catching a tear carefully.
“bad dream?”
you nod once.
his expression softens into something heartbreakingly tender.
“come here.”
he pulls you against him carefully, one arm around your waist while his hand smooths slowly through your hair.
your breathing stutters against his chest.
“it felt real,” you whisper shakily.
jinu presses his lips against your forehead.
“i know.”
his voice stays low and soothing beside your ear.
“but you woke up.”
another kiss.
“you’re here.”
his hand settles over your heartbeat gently.
“and i’m not letting anything touch you now.”
the words settle deep inside you.
because he says them with complete certainty.
like nothing in this world or the next could take you away from him.
jinu ends up humming softly while holding you close, fingers tracing slow patterns against your back until the distant look in your eyes finally disappears.
BABY ꫂ᭪
the first thing baby notices is the silence.
not normal silence—not the comfortable kind where you’re just tired and curled into the couch cushions beside him while the television hums quietly in the background.
this silence feels wrong.
heavy.
he wakes up to the feeling of movement beside him, eyes half-open beneath messy teal bangs, only to see you sitting upright in bed completely still.
your breathing sounds uneven.
your shoulders are stiff.
and your eyes—
god.
your eyes look far away.
baby pushes himself up slowly, careful not to startle you. the room is dark except for the faint city glow bleeding through the curtains, enough for him to see how your hands tremble slightly in your lap.
“…hey,” he says softly.
you don’t answer at first.
your chest rises too quickly.
he can practically hear your heartbeat from here.
it makes his stomach twist.
because he recognizes that look now. the one where you’re awake, technically, but not really here yet.
still trapped somewhere ugly.
baby shifts closer carefully, like approaching a frightened animal. he doesn’t grab you immediately. doesn’t overwhelm you. he just sits beside you quietly first, grounding his own breathing on purpose so you can hear it.
slow inhale.
slow exhale.
again.
again.
“nightmare?” he asks gently.
your throat moves when you swallow. then you nod once.
tiny.
weak.
his expression softens immediately.
you look exhausted. terrified in that quiet way people get after fear settles into their bones.
“still feels real?” he murmurs.
another nod.
that’s what gets him.
because he understands that feeling too well—the awful fog after a nightmare where your body doesn’t realize it’s over yet.
your fingers twitch against the blanket like you’re trying to pull yourself together manually.
baby finally reaches for you then.
slowly.
giving you time.
his hand slides over yours first, thumb brushing against your knuckles before he carefully laces your fingers together.
warm.
real.
steady.
“look at me for a second,” he says quietly.
your eyes move toward him after a moment.
glassy.
distant.
baby’s voice stays low and deep when he speaks again, soft enough to cut through the panic without overwhelming you.
“you’re here with me right now.”
his thumb strokes slowly over your hand.
“nothing from that dream can get to you here.”
you squeeze his fingers suddenly. hard.
like you needed confirmation he was real.
baby immediately shifts closer.
“c’mere.”
he pulls you carefully against him until your forehead rests against his chest. one arm wraps around your shoulders while his other hand moves up and down your spine in slow motions.
not rushed.
never rushed.
your breathing is still uneven.
he can feel your heartbeat hammering against him.
so he keeps talking.
quietly.
steadily.
“you woke up.”
“you’re safe.”
“i’ve got you.”
over and over.
like a mantra.
you don’t realize tears are slipping down your face until baby gently wipes one away with his thumb.
“sorry,” you whisper hoarsely.
his brows pull together instantly.
“for what?”
“waking you up.”
baby actually looks offended.
“seriously?”
you shrink a little at that.
he exhales softly through his nose before pressing his forehead against yours.
“don’t apologize for being scared.”
his voice drops quieter.
“you don’t have to deal with this stuff alone just because you’re used to doing that.”
that sentence nearly breaks you.
because he says it so simply.
like it should’ve always been true.
your hands grip weakly at his shirt while your heartbeat slowly starts settling beneath his touch.
baby notices every tiny improvement immediately.
the way your shoulders loosen.
the way your breathing stops catching.
the way your stare finally starts focusing properly again instead of looking through him.
“there you are,” he whispers.
and god.
that almost makes you cry harder.
he ends up keeping you against him the rest of the night, laying back down with you tucked against his chest while his fingers continue tracing lazy patterns across your back.
every time he feels you tense again, he presses a kiss against your hairline.
still here.
still safe.
still real.
ROMANCE ꫂ᭪
romance is the type to wake up instantly the second you move strangely beside him.
one minute he’s asleep with his arm around your waist.
the next his eyes are open.
sharp.
alert.
because the sound you made—
that tiny broken inhale—
didn’t sound right.
he lifts his head immediately only to find you sitting at the edge of the bed staring blankly at the wall.
your whole body looks tense.
frozen.
your breathing sounds shaky and uneven like you just ran a marathon.
“baby?” romance says softly.
nothing.
his chest tightens immediately.
he sits up quickly, reaching toward you before stopping himself halfway when he notices how distant your expression is.
you look terrified.
not dramatic terror.
not crying.
just… hollowed out by fear.
like part of you is still somewhere else entirely.
romance’s voice becomes impossibly gentle.
“hey. hey, look at me.”
your eyes flick toward him slowly.
unfocused.
his heart breaks instantly.
“bad dream?”
your lips part before you nod faintly.
he notices your hands shaking next.
that’s when he moves.
immediately.
romance slides off the bed and kneels in front of you so he can look up at your face properly.
“c’mere,” he whispers.
his hands settle carefully over yours, warm and grounding.
“you’re okay.”
your breathing catches painfully.
“doesn’t feel like it,” you admit quietly.
god.
the honesty in your voice destroys him.
romance’s expression softens so deeply it almost hurts to look at.
“i know.”
he rubs slow circles into your knuckles with his thumbs.
“sometimes nightmares stick to you after you wake up. your brain’s still trying to catch up.”
you stare at him silently.
still overwhelmed.
still trapped halfway in the dream.
so romance starts grounding you gently.
“look around for me, okay?”
his voice stays calm and warm.
“tell me something you can see.”
you blink slowly.
“…your necklace.”
“good,” he says immediately, smiling softly. “what else?”
“lamp.”
“yeah?”
he brushes his thumb over your skin again.
“what color is it?”
“gold.”
“good job.”
his praise is so soft it nearly cracks something open inside you.
little by little, he guides you back.
back into the room.
back into yourself.
back into reality.
and the second your breathing starts evening out even slightly, romance leans forward carefully and presses his forehead against yours.
“there you are,” he murmurs.
his hands slide up your arms slowly, soothingly.
“you scared me.”
your face crumples immediately.
“i’m sorry—”
“no.”
his response comes fast.
firm.
“don’t do that.”
his fingers gently tilt your chin upward.
“you never apologize for needing comfort from me.”
the sincerity in his voice makes your eyes sting again.
because he means it.
completely.
romance pulls you into his lap after that despite the awkward angle, wrapping both arms tightly around your waist while your face hides against his shoulder.
he hums quietly under his breath while rubbing your back.
slow.
steady.
patient.
every few minutes he presses kisses against your temple and whispers little reminders against your skin.
“you’re safe.”
“i’m right here.”
“it’s over now.”
and when you finally fall back asleep against him, romance stays awake a little longer just holding you.
making sure the nightmares stay far away this time.
MYSTERY ꫂ᭪
mystery doesn’t speak immediately when he wakes up and finds you sitting rigidly in bed.
he just watches.
silver-lilac hair falling over his eyes while moonlight catches the sharp lines of his face.
you look… gone.
like your body woke up but your mind didn’t.
your breathing sounds wrong.
too fast.
too shallow.
mystery notices the way your fingers clutch the blanket hard enough to hurt.
he notices everything.
quietly.
carefully.
then he moves closer without a word.
the mattress dips slightly beneath his weight.
you flinch.
his chest aches immediately.
mystery reaches out slowly before resting his hand lightly against the middle of your back.
warm.
steady.
you inhale sharply at the contact.
grounding.
real.
“nightmare,” he says softly.
not a question.
you nod once.
your eyes stay fixed ahead.
thousand-yard stare.
he knows that look.
mystery shifts closer until his shoulder touches yours. his thumb moves slowly against your spine through your shirt in repetitive motions.
you shiver.
“still stuck in it?” he asks quietly.
your voice barely comes out.
“yeah.”
he goes silent for a moment after that.
thinking.
then his hand slides from your back into your hand carefully, untangling your fingers from the blanket one by one before holding them gently.
“feel this,” he murmurs.
you blink.
his thumb presses lightly against your pulse point.
“that’s real.”
another press.
“this room is real.”
his shoulder nudges yours slightly.
“me too.”
your breathing falters.
mystery isn’t overly talkative, but when he does speak, every word feels deliberate.
important.
he brings your joined hands toward his chest quietly.
lets you feel his heartbeat.
steady.
slow.
alive.
“match me,” he whispers.
you try.
god, you try.
your chest still hurts from panic, but eventually your breathing begins slowing little by little to mirror his.
mystery notices immediately.
his thumb strokes over your knuckles once.
approval.
“good.”
your eyes finally focus properly after a while.
when they do, mystery’s shoulders visibly relax.
he lifts his free hand and brushes messy hair away from your face carefully.
so gentle it hurts.
“welcome back,” he murmurs.
something about those words makes tears spill down your cheeks silently.
mystery wipes them away without hesitation.
no embarrassment.
no awkwardness.
just quiet care.
then he pulls you against him.
completely.
arms wrapping around you while your head rests beneath his chin.
he holds you tightly enough to feel secure but loosely enough you never feel trapped.
and he stays like that for as long as you need.
even after your breathing evens out.
even after your heartbeat slows.
even after the nightmare finally loosens its claws from your mind.
his hand continues moving slowly through your hair while the room settles back into silence.
💬, heres one request down! i have two more in the tank!! ive been seriously exhausted lately, work has been kicking my butt to be honest 😔🙏🏼 but anyways ENJOYYYY!!!!
᧔᧓ you just read a fic that ruined your life ? or do you want your request seen sooner? a coffee donation shows support and/or moves your request up the queue! ☕️
Hi! Could we please get a Huntrix (separate) x Reader head cannon where each girl reacts to the reader getting a new tattoo in honor of them? Like I just imagine the reader walking around the penthouse casually with clear wrapping over their fresh tattoo and Zoey eyes just darts at the tattoo like “WHAT IS THAT?!” And the reader being cool as possible is like “oh I got a tattoo of your favorite turtle.” I think picking a tattoo representing Zoey is the easiest cause she loves her sea creatures. But I’ll be curious to see what tattoo the reader would get to represent Mira and Rumi! And for little more fun, on what part of their body would they get their tattoo. Like is it visible? Or somewhere more discreet?
First things first, you have them each swooning when they first see the tattoo.
It’s just a tattoo, it’s not that earth shattering. But at the same time, it’s more than ‘just a tattoo’ to them.
It’s a permanent mark on your body to show how much you love them, finding something you know represents them, that is important to them and having it imprinted on your skin.
How can they not be mesmerized?
You nailed it with Reader getting a turtle tattoo for Zoey.
Not even a generic turtle. There’s no way you’d take the easy out and do something basic. You did your research.
You knew what species of turtles Zoey’s absolute favorite was, the one that she loved above all others. You pulled as many reference photos as possible off the internet and then did more research to find a tattoo artist who could make this happen.
Last thing you wanted, after all, was to get a bad artist who completely butchers the image. You know Zoey would still love it even if it was a greatly deformed turtle tattoo, but you wanted this to be perfect. For her.
It’s a surprise you’ve been preparing for a good while, giddy about the grand reveal, working hard to keep Zoey from finding out in advance.
She sees it the first time when you come over to the penthouse to hang out, sees you take off your jacket and her eyes immediately zone in on the fresh tattoo on your arm.
This girl has so many questions. Like when did this happen? Why? You hadn’t mentioned going to get a tattoo to her recently, so this was a complete surprise.
Once you explain why you got it, how its meant to represent her? Man, you’ve got Zoey swooning so hard she’s stammering, struggling to find her words.
It’s her favorite turtle inked on her favorite person. How can Zoey be anything less than happy about this?
Once your tattoo is fully set healed and whatever else needs to be done to tattoos, Zoey is taking every opportunity she gets to kiss it.
This girl is a fan of tattoos, and you can’t tell me otherwise.
She likes the artistic creativity, thinks they make a person look way more attractive.
And you with a tattoo?
Damn, girl didn’t think it was possible for you to look any better than you already did.
Of course, she’s gonna be down bad when she sees you have a tattoo. But once she sees what the tattoo is of, and why you got it? She’s taking damage from how much she loves you.
Hers would probably be a polar bear, maybe a dancing bear to make it cute. (I’m not a tattoo person guys, idk what is and isn’t a good tattoo)
She is going to try and get a matching tattoo in return—Bobby, don’t stop her, she wants to immortalize her feelings for you, too! Who cares if a tattoo will go against the brand image—
Does manage to get a small tattoo to represent you in return on a spot that’s usually covered to avoid any issues.
Speaking of being usually covered; if you get a tattoo on a spot what the public will never be able to see, that makes her so much more happy.
The tattoo basically becomes an intimate secret between you and her in Mira’s mind, and she loves it. A tattoo only she gets to see.
Definitely spends a good chunk of time admiring it any time she gets to see you undressed as a result.
There’s honestly only one obvious choice for what kind of tattoo you’d get to represent Rumi.
A half sleeve tattoo of patterns in pale violet, just like what she has.
You had briefly considered getting a full sleeve, but that’d be harder to hide from Mira and Zoey, and you didn’t want them asking questions.
Even better? You get the tattoos before it comes out to the others that she’s half-demon, when the patterns are a secret only you get to know, a secret you know she has complicated feelings about.
You’ve seen her staring at those markings on herself with a look of self-loathing too many times, and you wanted to change that.
So you get the tattoo as a sign of solidarity with her, a sign of love, a way to tell her that you’ll stay by her side no matter what, that her patterns don’t change how you see her.
She understands the meaning behind the tattoos, the reason why immediately, and she struggles to wrap her mind around it.
She may actually cry a little when she sees them. Maybe more than a little. No ones ever tried to paint these marks as something beautiful before, and she does not know how to handle that.
Rumi loves to trace her fingers over the tattooed patterns, even when they’re covered by cloth, she has their placement memorized, can map them out with her eyes closed.
It makes her feel less alone when she sees you also wearing patterns, pre-movie it makes her feel less guilty and ashamed of herself, less…flawed. Because how can she hate these markings on herself while looking at them on you?
-Hughie definitely whimpers and whines. He says “fuck” a lot and just moans
-Soldier Boy talks like some typical porno guy. He’s like “you like that? take my fucking cock.” HE GETS REAL INTO IT! He loves the dirty talk and degrading
-Those porn vids make Hughie cringe but hearing SB talk like that does something else to him
-BRUISES!! Soldier Boy loves to leave handprints and bruises on Hughie. Hughie likes to live hickeys. At first SB tells him no but then he slowly opens to the idea. Hughie leaves hickeys on SB’s neck
-Once Hughie bit Soldier Boy’s neck and SB didn’t know if he should be pissed or turned on. Either way he was extremely hard
-HAIR PULLING!! Hughie is always getting his hair pulled, especially when giving bjs
-Jealousyy. SB gets possessive and rude towards Hughie. The rudeness never lasts long, he’s just upset. He gets real pissy because Hughie is alreadt spoken for
-Age difference!! SB is about 47-50 and Hughie is 29-30
-Strength kink my lord, and no shame tbh. Soldier Boy can carry Hughie like a sack of potatoes, and he does not care if someone sees them. SB will say the most sexual shit in public, having Hughie all flustered and blushing
-When Hughie first met SB he was scared and shy. Butterflies in his stomach and a need to impress him. He wanted to come off as calm, cool, and collected.
-Dilf. Dilf, Dilf, Dilf. That is all
-Hughie has a sensitive gag reflex. Just his toothbrush makes him gag. So Soldier Boy helps “teach” Hughie how to not gag (he just holds him down and wont let him up for air)
-Soldier Boy chokes hughie, definitely a little slapping too. SB would choke him a little too hard but Hughie likes it
-A little sadist and masochist action
-Bondage and restraint!! Soldier Boy loves to tie up Hughie and blindfold him. Hughie gets desperate to see and touch him
-Hughie gets easily overstimulated. Soldier Boy takes advantage of this. He loves to edge Hughie, stuff him and leave him begging
i might make more depending on how this goes!! don’t see many ship posts in the boys fandom
i’ve only seen a few episodes from each season so once i watch it through there will be more content.
Where the Shadows Kiss (fae male (Emrys) x fem human reader)
Summary: You discover the forbidden Grimoire of Emrys inside the infamous Shadow Castle. You ignore the warnings scrawled on its first page and touch the book. The act awakens Emrys, the ancient fae lord of shadows, who makes you pay the price for touching his book.
TW: NSFW, MDNI, dark romance, magic, power imbalance, fated mates, emotional tension, supernatural binding/contract, shadows like ropes and moving like tentacles, oral (fem), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, restraint using shadow-ropes, praise, creampie, nickname (little thief), lots of fluids.
This was a surprise commission to a dear friend on patreon. Enjoyy!
This is the Grimoire of Emrys.
In the year when the moon eclipsed the sun, this tome was bound with shadows and soul.
To touch these pages is to bind yourself to my keeping.
Body and shadow. Heart and soul.
Mark this well.
This is no book of mere learning.
It is contract.
It is trap.
It is mine.
Sealed by Emrys of the Night Court, Keeper of Shadows.
You couldn’t believe you’d found the Grimoire.
It was even more impossible to believe that, after reading the stark warning on the first page, you had stubbornly, foolishly, opened it further.
It was as if the book had been waiting. As if it had called you.
The old gothic castle was silent, the library smelling of wax and dust. You’d heard the rumors. Visiting the Shadow Castle meant you had a chance to find the legendary Grimoire of Emrys. You’d risked it. Entered the magnificent castle from a door that was open at the back entrance.
Surprisingly, you hadn’t met a single soul. Nor had you planned to wander toward the library, but your feet had carried you there, to this desk, as if pulled by a string tied to your very soul. Stupidity? Perhaps. But now it was too late. You’d chosen to stay.
And so you stood before the desk, with the massive, throne-like chair behind it. Too big for you to sit... or rather hop on. Your palm lay flat on the Grimoire and with a soft breath, you turned it over and opened it. The heavy cover fell back with a thump and you winced because it was obscenely loud in the quiet room.
You prepared for the worst.
Nothing happened.
The pages were thick and velvety, spread open of their own accord filled with warnings, magic spells and sigils. The words seemed to pulse, the ink a living blackness that swam before your eyes.
Again, that should have driven you away. Logic, survival should have prevailed.
Turn back and run the hell away from this place, your mind said.
But instead… you felt warmth. Stay, your heart whispered.
A strange heat bloomed in your chest, spreading down your belly, then lower, warming between your thighs. You turned another page, eyes widening. There, inked in black and white, was a drawing. It was him. Emrys. The fae Lord.
Achingly handsome with broad shoulders and a face of sharp angles, eyes so emotional they seemed alive. Commanding, pulling you in. The longer you looked, the less it felt like paper and ink. It felt like he was looking back.
“Wow,” you whispered and leaned closer, eyes drinking him in; his powerful wings unfurling behind him, vast and dark, surrounded by claws. His cruel mouth was perfect. Before you could stop yourself, your hand moved, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, then drifting down to his lips.
You jerked back as if burned by fire. They had felt warm.
“You should not touch what is mine.”
The voice came from nowhere and everywhere. Husky and low as a growl. The candles flickered once then steadied. The hairs rose on your arms.
“Even after the warning… you still read. You still look. Touch.”
“Who—” you gasped, whirling around.
Shadows appeared in the corner of the room. swirling like ink dropped in water. A wind rolled through, even if the windows were shut. And then he was there, stepping from a black portal. Emrys.
Tall, unearthly, hair pitch-black, eyes too sharp to be human.
Your pulse thundered in your ears. Gods... The drawing had not done him justice. He was taller, broader, more potent. His skin was a muted gray, his clothes black, blending seamlessly with the huge, clawed wings. A regal powerful body. Sharp cheekbones, pointy ears and a mouth that looked carved for cruelty.
Speechless and frozen, you watched as he approached, his booted feet making no sound on the Persian rug. The smell of him hit you next; a musky blend of night flowers, spice, and a masculine musk that went straight to your head. It made your knees weaken, your chest heaving.
“You were warned. Yet you opened the book. You read the inscription, studied my face. Foolish human.”
Your lips parted, but your tongue was a dry, useless thing in your mouth. Why were you frozen? Why couldn’t you command your legs to run? Was it him?
“It’s me,” he answered your silent panic. He moved closer, one clawed wing scraping along the floor, black and golden eyes roaming your face and body.
“Undo this right now,” you demanded, your voice stronger than you felt.
To your shock, he did. The invisible bonds holding you vanished and you jerked a little.
“There. Magic gone.” He gestured with his hands, a smile ghosting his mouth. “I’m surprised, though. I did not think you would come to me so soon."
“This is insane. People say you’re a myth.”
“People say many things. Humans have short memories and big mouths. That does not make me less real.” His gaze flicked to the open book, then back to your face. “You touched my Grimoire. You woke the binding. That is not a myth. That is a choice.”
“I did touch it and…I’m sorry.” You squared your shoulders. “But I certainly didn’t choose you.”
“You did. The moment you entered my castle, you accepted me,” he said simply, taking another step, forcing you back until the hard edge of the desk dug into your buttocks. Only a few inches separated you. “You were always meant to open my book.”
You chuckled, fingers curling against the rough oak. “You’re saying the most dangerous grimoire in the world simply allowed me to read it? That it opened for me? Wanted me?”
His smile vanished. Shadows appeared from around him, twisted and ropelike, moving in the air with a life of their own. More tendrils of living darkness seeped from the Grimoire itself, curling across you. Emrys spread his hands and caged you before you could flee, his palms slapping down on the desk on either side of your hips, his body leaning in close.
“No," he drawled against your lips. “I am saying I wanted you.”
So near. He was so near. Your eyes met his, vivid and fathomless as ink with golden flecks in them. Your pulse was in your throat, frantic, but not from fear. Something else was blooming under your ribs. Heat, hunger, a dangerous, thrilling kind of curiosity.
“And what happens now?” you asked boldly. There was no going back. You were caught. You’d storm through whatever happened. “You punish me for opening it?”
“Punish?” His claw traced the edge of the desk, so close that the air against your wrist prickled. The shadows followed the motion, trailing from his fingertip to wrap around your wrist. It felt warm and so soft and your whole body awoke in goosebumps.
“No, little thief. But I will claim what is mine. Curiosity has its price.”
His words coiled low in your belly, and you hated how much you ached for more. For the danger of the unknown. For him.
“And if I don’t want that?”
Emrys leaned in, his breath brushing your cheek, his scent warm, dizzying. The tendrils of shadow slid closer, higher. Two curling around your hands. Another, like a rope, slid up your calf, behind your knee, making you jolt. But the touch lingered, featherlight, fondling rather than grabbing.
“Oh, you do,” he murmured. “Your body already trembles for me. You don’t want to run. You want to stop thinking and succumb. You want me.”
He was right. You were trembling. A reaction you couldn’t suppress. Betrayal was in your own body, defying logic and causing heat to rise under your skin. Your heart was hammering so hard it hurt, and there was that fluttering ache between your legs that left you raw and desperate.
“What say you, little thief?”
You exhaled and finally said, "I shouldn’t want this, but I do.”
His lips came down to yours, hand cradling your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. You let go, your palms flattening against his hard chest, feeling his muscles contract as you kissed. Lips brushing and merging as if pulled by gravity.
Your noses nudged softly when he deepened the kiss, his hand rising to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. You responded, your own fingers sliding along the sharp line of his jaw, tilting his face to better claim his mouth.
Lost in the feel of you, Emrys devoured your lips, tasting and tasting, unable to have enough. He lifted you on the tall desk, pulled you harder against his chest, and breathed softly against your wet mouth.
"Open."
Your lips parted on a sigh and his tongue sank in, tracing the seam of your teeth before delving deeper. A soft sound left you before you surrendered completely, your tongues meeting in a hot, wet dance. Gently at first, then with a deeper rhythm before slowing to tender again.
Amid the frantic kiss, he laid you down on the surface, his shadow-ropes wrapping around your wrists, pulling them high above your head. Pinning them flat against the cool, carved wood of the desk.
More shadows snaked around your knees and calves, spreading your legs open just enough to make you aware of every hard inch of him pressing against you. Emrys kept kissing you, and you kept responding, your tongue tangling with his, your fingers clutching at his clothes, knuckles white.
Cold air touched you everywhere.
You’d been so drugged by the kisses that you didn’t realize he’d used his magic to remove your clothes. Every single stitch. You rested bare on the desk, nothing between your skin and him but the bonds of his shadows. They slid over you like silk, making you shiver.
Emrys pulled back from your swollen lips and stood between your spread legs, his wings arched behind him in a beautiful sweep. His eyes roamed over your naked body. He still couldn’t believe he had you. His mate, accepting him and his shadows, spread open like a feast for him.
Pouty, well-kissed lips, softly curved breasts, hard nipples, and the prettiest cunt weeping for him.
A snap of his fingers and he was naked too, huge and powerful. You gulped, your turn to stare. He was magnificent. A broad, sculpted chest, a chiseled stomach, thick thighs, and between them… your eyes widened at the size of his cock. Inhuman, thick, long and thickly veined, with a bulbous head dripping with pearly pre-cum.
But he didn't take you with it. Instead, he bent down and resumed kissing you, letting that monster shaft rest against your inner thigh, like a lonely beast. You wanted more. You wanted that crazy, huge cock buried inside you, stretching you, filling the void.
“So beautiful. Open and exposed for me,” he said against your lips, tongue flicking against yours. “You know you can still say no.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Tell me what you feel.”
“Heat… everywhere,” you gasped, the magic ropes feeling like his mouth, his hands on your skin. “Like you’re touching me in a hundred places at once.”
“Good. That’s exactly what I want. You thinking only of me.“
A low growl rumbled from his chest as he rubbed himself against you, his cock brushing your inner thigh. His wings adjusted, curling around the desk like a leathery curtain. Two new shadow-ropes slid up your belly, tracing your belly, then moved upward to the underside of your breasts. You moaned as they wrapped around them, pressing, lifting, jutting your nipples up.
“Hmnnnn… haaaa.”
Emrys suckled one delectable nipple, tongue teasing the tip hotly. Simultaneously, a shadow stroked and circled your other nipple, mimicking the action of his mouth before his lips moved to claim that one, too. Strong, veined hands brushed along your inner thighs, so close to where you desperately wanted him, but stopping just short of your slick pussy.
“I… gods—” you moaned. “You’re… warm…please… hnn...”
“Say it,” he demanded and bit down gently on a taut nipple, just enough to make you squirm and cry out anew.
“You’re making me wet,” you blurted, pussy fluttering for his attention, for anything he would give you. “I need more. Please.”
He smiled. “Good girl.”
Again, he crushed his mouth to yours, lips meeting hotly, breaths teasing before his tongue thrust in your mouth. You whined into the kiss, pulling your tongue against his while more shadow-ropes neared your thighs.
Finally, came the hot touch slid between your pussy lips, sliding up and over you in a single stroke. A teasing circle that made you cry out in his mouth. Emrys drew back, watching as his shadows caressed you.
Ropes held your limbs, others worshipped your tits, two more playing with your cunt. Two shadow-tendrils spread your outer labia, baring your glistening hole to his eyes. A place to be fondled, suckled, kissed, and fucked.
Emrys lowered himself, his wings arching to accommodate the movement. He bent his head and brushed his lips to your slick folds, kissing your pussy lips the same way he’d kissed your mouth. You went frantic, your body awash with pleasure. But you could do nothing but take it as his tongue lashed out, lapping up your juices, flicking your clit, and growling against your flesh.
“There,” he murmured, lips kissing your folds, his nose nudging against your clit. “Mine. My pretty, dripping little cunt.”
Another shadow rope returned, the bulky tip nudging against your pussy while the ones curled around your legs shifted, tilting your hips up, presenting you fully to him. Emrys growled, the sound vibrating through your very bones as his hands settled under your ass, lifting you to his mouth.
“You’re trembling,” he said. “Both your heart and your cunt. Don't fear. Every shadow is a part of me. When they touch you, it is me, little one.”
“I'm not afraid! I want you to fuck me. You—the ropes—whatever—just… hnn!”
Your words were cut off when a shadow-rope thrust past your tight entrance at the same moment his mouth fastened on your clit. You cried out, already teetering on the edge of rapture. Emrys could tell and never changed the rhythm, the shadow-tendril pumping in and out of your pussy in perfect harmony with the suckling and lashing of his mouth and tongue.
All perfectly coordinated, giving your pussy their full attention while the rest of the tendrils caressed your hypersensitive body. Flicking your nipples, fondling your neck, rubbing your inner thighs. Your whole body sang under the multitude of touches, coiling tighter and tighter until it exploded in the most powerful, convulsing orgasm of your life.
“Do you belong to me?” he whispered against your dripping cunt, his now glistening lips forming a smile.
“Yes… yes, I do!” you muttered weakly. “All of me… yours!”
Another deep growl and his mouth returned to your clit, kissing the swollen bud before suckling it back into his hot mouth. You shattered again, thrashing in his hold without any hope of escape.
At the same time, a second shadow joined the one already fucking your pussy, squelching inside with all your wetness, both of them stretching you wide, opening you with shallow thrusts. The ones curled around your breasts kept flicking your nipples, this time with tiny pulses of magic that made your toes curl in the air.
The pleasure stacked, overlapped, became an unbearable continuous wave. Little aftershocks rocked over you, tears of bliss in your eyes. You couldn’t tell where one orgasm ended and another began. And yet Emrys kept going, pushing you further.
“Too much…” you sobbed, head thrashing. “I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he growled, obscene sounds echoing as he lapped at your cunt in the silent library. “You’re built for this. Built to take everything I give you. Built to make a messy, pretty little puddle all over my desk.”
The shadows inside you pulsed harder, faster, until you were writhing against them, every nerve a live wire screaming his name. Emrys kissed around your swollen, well-used folds, around where two of his tendrils were fucking you deep, watching your pussy lips flutter and your clit throb as another peak rolled through you.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmured in awe.
Breaths stolen, you wiggled frantically, hands pulling against the shadow-ropes not to escape, but to anchor yourself. Emrys held you steady, his mouth licking your clit slower now, same with the shadows inside you, helping you ride the waves of pleasure. He watched you, he always did, then placed one last, tender kiss on your hypersensitive clit.
At his mental call, the shadows drew back. The living ropes squirmed in your pussy and slid out, dripping with your essence, leaving your body feeling empty and needy. You shivered as the other ropes restraining you released, and easily rolled you onto your stomach. Your ass was lifted into the air, your face pressed against the open pages of the Grimoire.
A soft whimper escaped you when the shadows returned, this time from the book, curling around your newly freed wrists, coiling firmly like velvet cuffs. Binding you to the Grimoire. Another set curled around your ankles, keeping your legs dangling on the edge of the desk and wide apart.
Emrys moved, the heat of his chest pressing against your sweaty back. He tugged your ass closer, his hands curving around your hips to pin you to the desk. He covered you from behind, his massive, throbbing cock rubbing against your glistening pussy, lubricating himself with your juices.
“Comfy?” he murmured, kissing along your spine. “You look ravishing, little thief. But if you don’t like it, I’ll release you. Say the word and it all ends.”
Your body arched involuntarily. “No, don’t! I want them. I want you. Like this.”
“I’m all yours, mate,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Feel me.”
And then came ultimate heat and pressure, the broad head of his cock pushing inside. Despite all the foreplay and stretching, he was too much. The sheer girth and depth he claimed as he pushed inside left you whimpering into the Grimoire.
Emrys groaned and his hand found the back of your neck, holding you steady as he stayed half-buried in your perfect, tight cunt. It was a feat; his whole body trembled with restraint. Your pleasure was his priority. So he waited, fingers teasing your nape.
“Easy. Breathe for me,” he purred and his shadows pulsed around you, teasing, pressing, stroking. Helping you relax and accept him.
You released a half sob, half moan. “Emrys—”
“I know,” he soothed, kissing your temple as he sank another inch deeper, the stretch making you see stars. “I know it's a lot, beautiful. But you can take it. You can take all of me. Let me in. Let me all the way in.”
A slight roll of his hips and you took more of him inside you. And that was how it went. Him pushing gently, steadily. And you gasping, moaning, crying out, waves of sensation rolling, building higher and higher.
When he finally buried himself to the hilt, his balls slapping against your skin, you broke all over again, your walls spasming wildly around the fat girth stretching them so tight.
Emrys growled, his hips drawing back, his cock slick and shiny with your juices before snapping back home with a wet, solid thud. He fucked you slow and tender, tracing his teeth and lips along your neck, murmuring, purring, praising, and dominating you all at once.
“Fuuuck… that’s it… so tight for me, so hot. Tremble for me… gasp for me… lose yourself in me, little thief… all of it… mine.”
The shadows pulsed in time with his movements, their rhythm pushing you back into him, your bodies meeting with loud, wet sounds that filled the quiet library. Emrys gradually doubled his pace, his hands clamping around your waist, wings flexing and pushing him even deeper inside you.
“Emrys… I… oh gods… I can’t… it’s too much—I’m gonna break—”
All the shadows uncoiled from you completely.
Freed of the bindings, Emrys turned you over in his strong arms, gathering you against his chest, your breasts pressed to the hot wall of his torso. He scooped you close, his wings wrapping around you like a protective cocoon and kissed you hungrily, his cock impaling you right up.
You cried out into his lips and clung to him as he pounded up into you, this new angle making you feel even fuller, cockhead kissing your cervix with every deep thrust. Your lips merged frantically, breaths mingling, until you both exploded in a final, shattering release. Your convulsions milked him deep, jet after hot jet of his cum filling you up until it dribbled heavily out of your pussy and onto the floor below.
“It’s done,” he growled, his cock still spilling heat inside you. “Body and shadow. Heart and soul. You’re mine.”
“What… do you mean?” you whispered, dazed, trembling, body yielding in his embrace.
He kissed your eyelids, your cheeks, your swollen lips. “You always were the only one who could touch my Grimoire. The only one who could survive my shadows. The only one who could survive me. You’re not just my little thief. You’re my fated mate.”
“Fated. Yours…” you trailed off with a small, satisfied smile.
“Yes…” His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met his, black shot with gold stars. “The only one who can open the Grimoire and love the monster who made it. The only one who can accept my shadows into her body.”
“I love the monster who made it,” you whispered. “And his shadows.”
“Say it again,” he demanded, voice breaking. “Say it while looking at me.”
“I love the monster,” you repeated, holding his gaze. “I love you. And your shadows.”
He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, the gold within was brighter. His hard mouth formed the most breathtaking smile. The shadows that had retreated now returned, curling gently around your arms and waist, stroking you with affection, massaging your tender spots.
“Hmmm, so soft…” you murmured, leaning into their caresses. “They touch me exactly where I need them to.”
“Because they’re yours now, too,” Emrys said, nuzzling your hair. “Extensions of me. Extensions of you. They will obey your command as easily as mine.“
You blinked. “But… I have no magic.”
He nudged your nose softly. “You didn’t. But the Grimoire has a way of rewriting truths. You’ll feel it soon when you want something, the shadows will answer, little thief.”
You pouted. “Don’t call me that. I didn’t steal anything.”
“Oh, but you did,” he rasped. “You stole my heart and now, I’ll be taking yours in return.”
