#<- YEAH OKAY THIS IS A LITTLE MORE BLATANT THAN I NORMALLY AM.
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Here is how to slowly, completely, and irrevocably fall into having someone know your soul as well as you do theirs:
First, be enemies, but of circumstance. Neither of you were really on opposite sides so much as connected to them. You think he loved them, though, that side that was only your enemy by virtue of not being your ally. He loved them, even if he didn't spend as much time with them. You mock him for this. For calling their leader 'king'. (Later, you'll hold onto mockery like it's all you have. You know it's not a game and you know he was really king, but without your ability to make fun of what's happening, you won't be much at all.)
You have a best friend then. This, too, is almost an accident, although to explain all the ways it's also on purpose will take longer than you have to explain. He's wonderful, and loyal, and going to die. So you die fast and young first, before him. You die in front of your friend. You die in front of him.
You don't regret it, the dying young, because it means you die before anyone else can die for you.
Second, watch your best friend fall in love with him, although that phrase feels both too pedestrian and too much like it's overstating the thing that really happens. You have your own drama for too long to really understand how it happens, of course. You're too busy facing a betrayal that will scrape the inside of your soul forever. (To tell the truth, you've already forgiven him for it, but there's something easy about being each other's enemies, so you keep going, orbiting around each other in betrayal betrayal betrayal. But that's someone else who knows your soul, another story.)
Then your best friend dies, as does nearly everyone else. You sit around a campfire with him. You tell him that your best friend trusts him; you'll trust him too. He stands by your side near the end, the two of you running together, another man's memories on your lips.
You're not sure what you regret, then, but you know there's something that won't undo that's a part of you now.
Third, learn the value of choices, as the universe tries its best to take yours from you. In this one, the people you're by the side of is at once familiar and strange. The finalists who'd protected you last time are now an ugly mix of your chosen soulmate and your enemy by making that choice; you attempt to hold on to your ability to choose even as blood makes it clear you can't. (The universe tried to pick someone who would fit you well, you realize later. More people who know your soul that this story isn't actually about. You care for him too, is the thing; you care for choosing more.)
You don't see him much, this time. You respect each other, though. It's hard not to respect each other after everything that's happened. Still, you don't see him, and he doesn't see you. Instead, you see the end of the game. You nearly hold it in your fingers.
You regret. You regret deeply. You are so tired of watching people die, you think, and you regret more than anything else that you couldn't stop it.
Fourth, become enemies, but this time intentionally. Enemies, maybe, is a strong word; you're assigned co-parents, except bad, divorced ones. There's something hysterical about the whole thing, in both the comedic sense of the word and in the original, more concerning sense, especially given the way you all have thought about your best friend-now-son in the past. (Family ties are a thing you'll come to value; it's just that what the names are don't count, really, not when you do this again and again and again. Plus, it's nice to be able to have an excuse to yell.)
It's almost fun again. Maybe it's almost fun. You trade barbs with each other, and try to kill each other, and this time the consequences are light enough that you try to help each other, too. You see each other a lot. You're enemies, of course, but you see each other a lot, as you are: scared, and tired, and not as frightening as you appear, and happy, despite it all.
You don't regret much. You die fast and young, alongside your allies. You see his face before you do though, and you think he's the one with regrets.
Fifth, trip over him as you run across the first session of a new game. You don't know yet what this one will be, if it will be betrayals, or more stolen choices, or family, or fun, or anything else, but you look him in the eyes and make a choice. You will be friends this time instead of enemies. And it's nice. He and you fit together oddly now, but well, despite the oddities. You've had time to learn to, from a distance, and then closer and closer. (People seem baffled you're friends now. You wish you could explain that that's how these stories go sometimes.)
You're pretty certain he'll leave you when the time comes. He says he's a runner, and not a protector, and yet, when the time comes to betray you, you both know he won't hurt you, and you're both surprised anyway.
"You might regret this," you tell him quietly. You both have scars.
"You might regret this," he agrees. But you also both have choices.
"Okay," you say. "Have you ever fallen in love?"
"Cleo," he says, brushing your hair aside, and he doesn't answer.
"I don't think I have," you say honestly. "I think it's something else. Have you ever accidentally given someone a piece of your soul?"
"All the time," he says, and that's that.
The end is coming soon. You'll find out if you regret it.
#secret life smp#secret life spoilers#zombiecleo#ethoslab#a bee fic#trafficshipping#<- YEAH OKAY THIS IS A LITTLE MORE BLATANT THAN I NORMALLY AM.#you can read this platonically if you WANT but. it's. yeah it needs the tag.#anyway etho and cleo are soulmates but they're soulmates who very slowly and almost accidentally slid into being it#who built their way up to soulmates over time#do you understand me.#...also it DOES strike me the irony of tagging shipping on the fic where the lead SPECIFICALLY SAYS she hasn't fallen in love but#YOU KNOW. ITS THE VIBES.
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not going to finish reading 1.1 tonight due to. the sleepy tired. and that shit is way longer than gestation. but i am certainly microwaving the first section i have read in my brain
i do have some Thoughts on the presumed magic(? this is one of the ones with magic i'm sure) but to be clear i am not generally a guy who gets really into trying to extrapolate or put together lore abt how the universe functions. like i figure we get there when we get there. i am significantly more invested in autopsying the workings of various characters. already breaking out the hacksaws for blake
i am surprised that he's in his 20s because the way everyone talks about him had me thinking he was also a traumatized teenager but like even more sopping wet than the undersiders about it. also i was surprised by how much of a Guy he is. like worm is primarily focused on complicated and interesting female characters and there just are not that many Guys in it. there are very few guys who are as relevant as the women and none of them are capital-g Guys. like...defiant is a redditor. brian owns a motorcycle helmet but taylor is literally, like, the first girl he's talked to in years that wasn't his little sister he's responsible 4 or his teammates he's more begrudgingly responsible for. he's so socially dysfunctional. alec vasil would never own a motorcycle or have tattoos, he walks around looking gay and then goes down 4 his gf's character development. none of the wormguys are capable of the energy blake thorburn is carrying. so it was very funny going "oh shit he's in his 20s instead of a sad wet teenager?" and then "oh shit he has a fucking motorcycle? and tattoos? and boots? and he's DATED people? and has friends??"
also very funny: being specifically surprised by the motorcycle because it seemed Too cool for how people talk about him and then finding out like 7 paragraphs down that it's actually the world's most shitty-dink sad little bike ever. like yeah okay. that checks out. that seems to accurately encapsulate blake thornburn's energy.
anyway my initial misassumptions out of the way. it is also sort of surreal seeing a wildbow protagonist that has like....basic levels of self-awareness about himself. he actually notices when his shrugging is starting to become more of an act than a genuine indicator of his disinterest. taylor would not have noticed! making my tentative first forays into understanding the blake psyche here because again i have not even finished 1.1 but the energy i'm getting so far is like. he tells himself he's not gonna get sucked into the family drama and then he does a pretty decent job of that, but he also does an excellent job of avoiding thinking about what the implicitly referenced background trauma is. he is generally not terribly unaware of his own emotions but this does not stop him from having his flight reflex triggered over a hug or from having trouble sleeping at home even when alllll the doors and windows are locked. i'm catching the vibes of him being relatively functional on the surface but having Something that is Extremely His Family's Fault broiling inside of him that might not come out now but will nigh-certainly come out eventually. i predict he has at least three really really bad mental breakdowns before this book is over. like i'm talking Severe. i'm getting "left and sorted out some of the trauma and is doing a pretty good job at being a reasonably mature 20ishyo not getting sucked back in the second he returns but is still going to have things boil over when shit gets real" energy. that might be nothing but i'm throwing darts here. we'll find out. definitely very surface level blatant trauma responses compared to some other wb characters though. i think the lack of repression means he's better at seeming like a Normal Guy upfront but is significantly more prone to getting very unnormal when the horrors get involved. i will not be comparing this to worm forever ftr but guy who has only read one wildbow novel is going to inevitably compare and contrast w other wildbow novel. it's a fun frame of reference 2 start analyzing thru when i'm only going off the very basics at first. anyway feel free to send ask commentary or whatever as always
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And once again, a day at Family Video:
"So? How did it go this time?"
"Oh yeah, I've totally got a date."
"Do you really, though?"
Steve sighs. Sometimes knowing each other inside out is more of a curse than a blessing.
"That's what I thought. Get the You-Suck-Board out of the back"
"Sure thing Your Majesty"
"Excuse me? If anything I would be elected by the people, King Steve"
Whenever she hears anyone else say one of his old shameful nicknames at school, she will make sure to "accidentally" hit them very hard in the face during football practice. Or PE. Or sometimes just in the hallway, if they have no classes that overlap. Or the balls, if he is a real buttface. "With my luck I would rearrange his features into something less hideous" is her justification when Steve winces in second-hand sympathy. He truly adores her with everything he has.
Whenever he hears someone else use "dyke" or "fairy" or "queer" as an insult, he will glare at them so hard they never dare wear their current outfit again. Ever. If there is one thing years of being a jackass taught him, it is to give the most judgmental stare you can imagine.
They are also not above inventing a bullshit excuse to demand extra fees if it happens in the shop. He and Robin consider it compensation for having to listen to such bullshit with their own two poor queer little ears. Somehow Keith hasn't caught up yet.
Steve sighs. Again. It is truly impressive how much of an effect Robin can have on him without even physically being there.
" Alright-y, Dyke-y."
But Steve isn't anyone else, and neither is Robin. They are Steve and Robin and they are soulmates. It is almost like exposure therapy, in a way. Hearing it so often from someone they know will never really mean it takes away some of the sting when others use it maliciously. Steve didn't even have the designated-self-loathing-hour that normally follows the last time Mike sneered one of his old nicknames at him. (Didn't stop Robin from "accidentally" spilling her milkshake on him later. Steve only felt a little bit bad for laughing.)
"I can still hear you breathing on the phone. Dingus."
"So sorry. I was just waxing poetry about how meaningful our friendship-"
"Well I am about to start waxing poetry about what a loser you are. Loser."
Steve gives her a middle-finger she cannot see but is satisfactory either way, and places the phone back on the table. For a second he considers hanging up for a few moments if only to save a few cents. But it isn't he who is going to have to pay the phonebill and the job sucks anyway, so he doesn't. That's what Keith gets for his blatant favoritism.
He goes back to the phone after giving himself a point in the Gay-Jokes-Board. If she truly wanted him to play fair, she should've come to work instead of blowing him off because of "sickness" or some bullshit. Karma, bitch.
Another customer enters. He takes a short look at the door and braces himself. To be honest, flirting with girls isn't nearly as fun without Robin's silent running commentary. By now he doesn't even expect a second date, he does it mostly to have something to do while everyone he knows is at school. But he knows that Robin truly is at home feeling miserable right now (she even skipped band practice yesterday. And nothing comes between Robin and band practice), so when he sees the flowing dress entering through the door he is already mentally preparing himself for another conversation that will make him cringe at 2 AM and steal his sleep for the next week. The things he does for Robin.
He is not above admitting how he visibly deflates when he recognizes the bright red hair entering through the door. Thank God.
"Hey Dorothy!"
"VICKIE IS THERE?! FUCK"
Steve laughs at her outrage. By now he does actually know her name (hard not to, with how often she coincidentally comes to browse the store whenever Robin has a shift), but he has called her "Friend of Dorothy" so much that it has stuck. He is just very bad with names, okay?! Besides, in his humble and correct opinion, Dorothy is simply the superior name. It suits her way better. One day he will be able to convince Vickie of his correct opinion, and when that day comes, he will be ready to immortalize the moment she tells Robin with his camera.
Vicky comes towards the counter and Steve makes the executive decision that torturing Robin is more important than costing Family Video money. Robin realizes what he is about to do, but her cries of protest only encourage him further. Will he pay for that? Probably. Is it still worth it? Abso-fucking-lutely. The click when he hangs up sounds like music to his ears.
He smirks when he sees how her eyes immediately search out something behind him. When she sees his expression, her cheeks flush as bright as her hair. Every time that happens he has to think about Robin's hour-long monologue about how adorable Vickie looks when she blushes. He realizes that for once there isn't anyone here to stop him from saying that. He may not be good at mantaining relationships, but no one can deny that he is an expert at getting a date. And if Robin refuses to make a move? Well, he always has wanted to play matchmaker.
He leans forward and gives her his most charming smile. "So...do you come here often?"
She blinks at him. "Are you...flirting with me?!?!"
"Pretend that I'm Robin, alright?" He brushes one of her red locks behind her ear.
"Jesus Christ"
"Superstar. So, when are you free? Lucky for you, I have Robin's entire schedule memorized."
They stare at each other for a time, at an impasse. And then-
"LISTEN TO THAT HOWLING MOB OF BLOCKHEADS IN THE STREET-!"
(Steve vaguely notes that they scare a few potential customers away with their musical numbers. (Yes. Plural. Obviously.) To say that Vickie isn't a great singer is a bit of an understatement. He thinks it is only fair, considering he already saved Family Video's phone bill by hanging up on Robin. ROBIN. If they wanted him to care they should pay him better.)
It is only once they have gone through the entire "Jesus Christ Superstar" Discography and Vickie is already stepping into her car that he realizes he never actually arranged the Robin and Vickie date. Rockie date? Wait......
He basically throws himself onto the the phone
"ROBIN!"
A very confused Mrs. Buckley calls for her daughter. Steve is practically vibrating on his feet.
"ROBIN! IF YOU COMBINE YOUR AND VICKIES NAME TOGETHER YOU GET ROCKIE!!!!"
"OH MY GOD, LIKE IN THE ICONIC AND VERY QUEER ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW?!"
"I TOLD YOU THAT SHE'S INTO YOU BITCH!"
btw. people. please tell me your Vickie headcanons. <3
Hey look the WIP game actually works lol
-> tramp-stamp
-> gatekeeping 101
-> anti-heteronormativity
-> jancy appreciation hours
#stranger things#steve harrington#robin buckley#stobin#st vickie#vickie stranger things#robin x vickie#rockie#an average day in family video#this ones a bit shorter :/
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tagged by @gwynbleidd to post a wip.. and i actually have another one!!! hehe
no tags today but if you see this and have something to share, by all means, use me as an opportunity! 💖
more of kate and @risingsh0t's cyrus below
She trailed off. One glance, and suddenly, she was hyper aware of how close their faces were. She swallowed hard, mouth drier than a desert. That was a factoid she'd only read about, never experienced, but perhaps that was just her mind trying to ignore the racing of her heart and…
Cyrus seemed to read her thoughts, as he pulled away a bit, but to both of their surprise, she stopped him with a hand on his face.
"Uh." He grabbed onto her arm. "Weird question, but– do you think he would've liked me?"
"Yes." Not a single moment of hesitation. "He would've loved you. Used to go on and on about how everybody deserved a second chance."
His eyes flicked to her lips. "Then," he started, sounding unsure, "would he be okay with you moving on with somebody else?"
Was she moving on? Kate wasn't sure. She let the question rattle around in her brain for a second, genuinely debating it. She was definitely happier. Happier than she'd been in over a year, and she'd come to enjoy Cyrus' company in the time they'd spent together, something she would've hated to admit just mere weeks ago. He made her laugh, made her feel safe. That was hard to come by these days.
Maybe– just maybe– she was ready to take that tiny step forward.
"Of course he would."
She leaned in to capture his lips in hers before she could even register what she was doing. It was a slow, passionate kiss and when he melted into it, taking her face in his calloused hands, she swore she could hear fireworks. No, actually, maybe that was gunfire in the distance, but for once, she didn't stop to worry about it. She just took her time with him, unwilling to end the moment.
Still, she had to pull away for air eventually and when she did, there was a tense silence between them. A good tense, which was a welcome change.
"Nothing to say?" she teased.
"Kate," was all he could manage to get out.
"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm being mean," she said with a laugh. "You just normally have some quip or joke, that's all."
He inhaled sharply, as he caressed her cheeks in a way that suggested he was trying to memorize this moment. "What's there to joke about? I've been wanting to do that for weeks."
"I… hadn't noticed." A blatant lie. She had. It was hard not to– she'd just been too afraid to do anything about it. "You have now, at least."
"Yeah," he said, voice cracking in the slightest. Even in the dark, she could see how flustered she'd made him, pupils blown and cheeks flushed. "Guess I can check that off my bucket list."
That got another laugh out of her. "There's the joke."
"Figured I should at least try to act like I'm not freaking out right now." A pause. "Which, for the record, I kind of am."
"It's okay," Kate said, kissing his forehead in an attempt to soothe him. "Come on, get up here on the bed with me. We can talk about this more in the morning."
Cyrus sputtered. "Kate, I'm fine on the floor. We don't have to move that fast."
"Cyrus," she said, a little more firmly. "Nobody said anything about fast. Get on the danged bed before I pull you up here myself."
Despite his obvious nerves, he laughed. "Yes, ma'am."
#tag games#oc: kate shephard#friend oc: cyrus virani#comes in. casually drops their first kiss. leaves#who said anything about writing in order :/#again. technically a finished piece. BUT. but#should probably add more to it/polish it
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Razan & Ava
Razan: How’s your head? 🤭
Ava: 🪓🪓 Splittin’, obviously
Ava: Tell Miss I’ve gone home, please and thank you 🙏
Razan: I took the liberty without being asked & yeah you’re welcome
Ava: I can’t believe you don’t have a headache with how hard you’re paying attention
Razan: I wanted to come, like, to pay attention
Ava: That woman is just SO self-important, I can’t deal
Razan: cute with it though, a little bit
Ava: Really?
Ava: I know you did NOT stalk this woman and drag me here to stare at her and ask her super great questions, like
Razan: I did my research, I’m NOT admitting to anything else
Ava: You are such a sneaky 🤓
Ava: go on then, what totally amazing research did she head to make you so 😍
Razan: [tell her because I have no idea but we’re going with a Melissa vibe of actually being kind of impressive here because I can]
Razan: Am I allowed to have a crush now or…?
Ava: 🤔 Hmm, I’m not sure it makes up for her lack of people skills, or you making me play wing-woman without even clueing me in but
Ava: not bad
Razan: the crush you have is more than making up for it
Ava: However did you notice
Razan: I’ve been on the receiving end of that look
Razan: & you’re 😳 in October, it doesn’t take a genius
Ava: not trying to steal your lecturer love, luckily for you 😜
Ava: but okay, you caught me
Razan: Miss won’t, I’m 99% she’s sexting her boyfriend
Ava: Probably
Ava: why they can’t let us go unchaperoned is beyond me
Razan: because we’re us
Ava: Yeah, you should’ve let them know you’ve got the hots for this woman, won’t be going anywhere more fun
Razan: Wrong, I’ve already been invited out by random students in the next row
Ava: fun
Razan: I could go straight home after, that always is 😜
Ava: If I was actually doing that, I wouldn’t have time to reply to you
Ava: I’m having a tour, which is a lot more useful than whatever your new gf was trying to do in there
Razan: useful for getting to know your new bf
Razan: you shouldn’t be replying to me
Ava: yeah, stop talking to me 😏
Ava: I already know who he is, anyway, I’m not a total slag
Razan: Yeah, that’ll stop me talking, it’s not a wildly interesting development I wanna know more about or anything!
Ava: Don’t you remember him?
Razan: no??
Ava: He was in Buster and Nancy’s year, so he was only at the school with us for a few years
Ava: he’s Teddy’s brother
Razan: oh okay
Ava: what does that mean??
Razan: Isn’t he married?
Ava: he’s 21
Razan: but married
Ava: everyone knows it’s not real, who gets married at 18
Razan: Um… your brother
Ava: 🙄 yeah because that’s a normal situation
Razan: because you wanna get yourself in the middle of a bizarre situation
Ava: it’s not bizarre, she just got pregnant
Ava: and no one said anything about getting in the middle of anything
Razan: I remember her, I stand by bizarre
Ava: she’s just your typical bully, nothing crazy
Razan: making him just your type
Ava: um, did you see him, it’s literally nothing to do with her
Razan: looks wise he’d be anyone’s type, I’m not saying any different
Ava: what then
Razan: You know what
Ava: Nah, go on
Razan: this is what you do
Ava: what do I do
Razan: you make ☹️ people 🙂
Ava: for God’s sake
Ava: shut up
Razan: I’m not calling out a blatant kink, it’s more subtle than that, but it is what you do
Ava: You’re talking shit, what kind of complex do you think I have, thanks SO much
Razan: I’m not qualified to answer, you’ll have to take a quiz like everybody else
Ava: You aren’t funny
Razan: you’re not here for my jokes, you’re on a tour with a married dad 🤷🏽♀️
Razan: message me later, if you want
Ava: yeah you can just cuss me out and tell me to leave
Razan: It’s not a diss, you’re not even aware you’re doing it
Ava: I’m not doing anything
Ava: I want to hook up with him
Ava: and if I’d known you were never going to come out, I wouldn’t have bothered, actually
Razan: yeah, I realised when you stopped bothering
Ava: what did you expect
Razan: not any cultural sensitivity, that’s for sure
Ava: give me a break
Razan: like you gave me?
Ava: you’re never going to do it, good luck finding any girl who’s going to put up with it, it’s ridiculous
Razan: & you’re never going to understand why I can’t
Ava: I understand
Ava: it doesn’t change anything, you can’t be out, you can’t date a girl, it’s simple really
Ava: you want to have it both ways
Razan: I don’t want to have it this way, yeah, it is simple
Ava: only you can do anything about that, or not
Ava: don’t take it out on me
Razan: don’t attack me for not congratulating you for being a homewrecker
Ava: fuck your morals
Razan: you don’t wanna hear it
Ava: I don’t wanna hear what you reckon is right and wrong when you’re adding yourself to that list to keep your family happy, no
Razan: & what happens if my family is unhappy, are you going to make up Nancy’s room for me?
Ava: You’ll have to make a decision one day
Ava: it’s got nothing to do with me now
Razan: I literally went against God for you & it wasn’t enough
Ava: I didn’t do anything wrong
Razan: you cheated on me, but I guess that’s okay from your POV because I have to lie
Ava: You like girls, I didn’t make that happen, God did, if you wanna go there
Razan: I wasn’t dating them, you made that happen
Ava: did I force you? No, no I didn’t
Razan: to come out, if you could’ve
Ava: piss off
Ava: honestly, you should do every queer girl a favour and just marry a nice muslim boy
Razan: I won’t invite you, you’ll only want to sleep with him
Ava: someone should want to
Ava: but no thanks, you becoming the most judgmental bitch to cover up your shame isn’t something I can bear to be around much longer
Razan: You’re doing something wrong this time
Ava: I don’t remember asking for your opinion
Ava: I don’t care, I can do what I like
Razan: go do it then, you’re the one reading my opinion
Ava: I don’t need your permission either, Raz
Razan: luckily
Ava: bye
Razan: [don’t reply gal but do send something else way later when you’re also drunk as is the vibe]
Razan: I’m sorry
Razan: I said, like, a million things I shouldn’t have said
Ava: nothing I didn’t know or you’d said before
Razan: maybe, but that doesn’t make it okay
Ava: whatever
Razan: I deserve the whatever
Ava: yeah no shit
Razan: you’re a really hard person to fight with, because you’re always in the right
Ava: not always but I can own my wrongs better than you
Razan: they’re not as big
Ava: I did cheat on you
Ava: and I did sleep with James
Razan: It was over by then, we each didn’t want to be the one to say it, but it already was
Razan: his marriage probably is too
Ava: it never was
Ava: his marriage
Razan: then fuck my morals
Ava: he is sad
Ava: but I don’t think I can fix him, and I never thought I could fix you, btw
Razan: You did make me happy, you do
Razan: it’s good, NOT a diss
Ava: it sounds like I think I’m the next prophet
Razan: no, I’m surrounded by preachy, you aren’t that
Razan: kind & helpful, yeah, but not in an american youth pastor, come & pray kinda way
Ava: well thanks, because I’d have to kill myself otherwise
Razan: you’re the best & you give that to people
Ava: don’t be nice
Razan: okay, it was freaky & I hated it that you knew I needed you before I knew & I 100% should’ve drowned you for witchcraft
Ava: more like you
Ava: I didn’t mean to rock your world, babe, what can I say
Razan: yeah you did, that was totally deliberate every time
Razan: What was sleeping with someone in their 20s like?
Ava: that’s not his defining characteristic
Ava: but amazingly good
Razan: I’ve already asked you what sleeping with a boy is like
Razan: idk much else about him 💭💭
Ava: he’s literally so smart it would be intimidating if he wasn’t so nice
Ava: he’s not trying to show-off or be impressive, he doesn’t even know he is
Razan: let’s change your type to that & make me sound super humble
Ava: 🤣
Ava: believable
Razan: Hey! You don’t have to use the emoji doing the most
Ava: 😀 gives I think you should be sectioned
Razan: I did read it in your tone earlier for what you thought needed be included in my christmas hol plans
Ava: you started it, alright
Razan: I know, I know, I can be toxic
Ava: ☣️☣️☣️
Razan: I said sorry, I’m waiting for yours for marrying me off
Ava: I’m not ordained yet, it’s not legally binding
Ava: are you still with the students
Razan: [a group selfie like yep hello]
Razan: Where are you?
Ava: home now
Ava: I’m so drunk
Razan: me too
Razan: drunk, if the apology didn’t give it away, fuck going home
Ava: will you go [one of their friends who’s the most chill]
Razan: Maybe, if it’s not late
Ava: not judging
Ava: I would’ve stayed if it was an option
Razan: if one of my new friends will let me stay, I’ll stay
Ava: you can come here but you better go in Nance’s room
Razan: don’t be nice
Ava: barely
Ava: I fully intend to sext him all night so
Razan: it’d be awkward if miss has more game with her bored bf than you with your shiny new one, I wouldn’t wanna be seen with you
Ava: rude, I was a sex witch earlier, don’t take it back now
Razan: He is as hot as me, I guess
Razan: you’ll be fine
Ava: come on, ego
Ava: he’s insane
Razan: if you like tall white boys
Ava: don’t be mean I’m too 😍 to take notes rn
Razan: Um, I literally compared him to me in terms of attractiveness so I’m not being mean
Ava: hmm okay, you’re trying
Ava: is it a good party
Razan: it’s no [a good party from their past] but it’s NOT [a bad one]
Ava: you’ll have to invite me when you go here
Ava: I promised I wouldn’t
Razan: Am I going here??
Ava: definitely
Ava: it’s top 10, and you wanna bang that lady
Razan: a reason not to go
Ava: her salary and respected job would go down a treat with your parents, though
Razan: don’t
Ava: sorry
Razan: idk if I’m too drunk or not drunk enough but we’re not going there again
Ava: okay, forget i said that
Razan: I heard everything else you said
Ava: i wasn’t trying to be a dick
Ava: there’s plenty of actual reasons to go here
Razan: yeah, maybe I will
Razan: diversity points could get me in 🙌🏽
Ava: you won’t be going to Goldsmiths with me
Ava: way too artsy and not 🤓 enough
Razan: I would’ve but you broke up with me so I don’t have to pretend to like it now
Ava: we would’ve been unbearable
Razan: you’re still unbearable on your own, it’s fine
Ava: charming as ever
Razan: you started that, I don’t know anything about it
Ava: innocent until proven guilty
Razan: I have loads of proof of how innocent you aren’t
Ava: 😈 likewise
Razan: [uploading a selfie to the story with some kind of filter to that effect because we can]
Ava: cute
Razan: What am I a 👵🏽👶🏽🐶🐱?
Ava: demanding, is what you are
Ava: i know everyone there is telling you how amazing you look
Razan: you don’t know it, witch
Ava: suddenly they’re all blind and you’re well tragic like 🥺
Razan: it’s no fun when it can’t go anywhere
Razan: but I’m not being 💔🥺💔 at a party, who am I??
Ava: you can hook up with girls, just don’t have them thinking it can go beyond that
Razan: Really? Like that much of a whore?
Ava: omg don’t be such a windup
Razan: you’re wound up by your sexting
Ava: yeah but it’s not normal sexting like miss does with her mans so give me a break
Razan: you like James, she’s desperate to keep hers 🔒
Ava: he doesn’t even look real it’s insanity
Razan: met your match
Ava: come on, I’m not going to downgrade
Ava: you look like a supermodel I’ve always told you
Razan: I was trying to be nice to him, I know how perfect I am
Ava: alright bitch 😏
Ava: I don’t know why I didn’t invite him in I’m mad
Razan: because he has a wife waiting up
Ava: if she cared he wouldn’t be able to be talking to me like this rn
Razan: trapping him inside their 4 walls doesn’t mean she cares about him, just how it would look if he was spotted with your supermodel looking ass
Ava: we’re not getting caught, give me some credit, homewrecking is my forte after all, yeah
Razan: you’re well trained at being sneaky, yeah, you’re welcome
Ava: do you think he does this a lot
Razan: Why don’t you ask him?
Razan: if he’s lying to tell you what you wanna hear, you’re good at spotting that too
Ava: it doesn’t matter but
Ava: I don’t know, maybe it does a bit, I don’t wanna get carried away do I
Razan: It is something else you tend to do, a little bit
Ava: 😑
Razan: not necessarily a bad thing either, esp with me looking out for you
Ava: I know this can’t go anywhere
Ava: not in a traditional sense anyway
Razan: you don’t, people get out of unhappy marriages, Ava
Ava: he’s not there
Razan: it could happen & that’s what you need to watch, that you don’t get carried away & hurt thinking it will
Ava: I know, I won’t 🤞
Razan: I know you, you thought I’d come out and we’d live happy ever after instead of me ending up, like, a homeless disowned statistic
Razan: it’s sweet but it’s dangerous
Ava: Well you killed that naivety so you don’t need to worry about me no more 😘
Razan: Tell me your NOT already thinking of an into the sunset moment with him, that’s a damn lie
Ava: I can’t help it if people being unhappy makes me unhappy
Ava: It’s not about me having a happy ending, people shouldn’t live their life being miserable it’s too short
Razan: you don’t have to help it, everyone loves it about you
Razan: but don’t make yourself miserable again
Ava: I’m VERY happy rn
Razan: WOW, thanks for how hard you went rubbing it in my face there
Ava: I don’t know what to say
Ava: You’ll be happy when you’re a high powered business bitch and you can do what you want without being homeless
Razan: not bad for an off the cuff little pep talk
Ava: I do my best
Ava: despite being very distracted and planning my future wedding and all that
Razan: You’ve stopped planning mine, that’s 100% all I care about
Razan: go devote yourself to your new man, how you do
Razan: I’ll talk to you later
Ava: Thank God you can’t talk to him and tell him I’m like that, you hating ass hoe
Ava: he’s already been married off once you wanna convince him I’m a 👰🏼♀️💒💍🤵🏻♂️ psycho, so rude
Ava: Code for you’ve found someone you wanna flirt with, peace then ✌️
Razan: no, you have & I don’t need your sloppy drunk 💗😍💕🥰💞 messages meant for him finding their way to me
Ava: oh yeah, you’d be SO horrified, gotcha
Razan: it’d be like hearing about your dreams, which everyone knows is 😬
Ava: one in the same, baby 💗😍💕🥰💞
Razan: thank God I’m not your baby
Ava: you’re too easy to wind up
Razan: as easy as you are, maybe
Razan: sometimes
Ava: you’re bitchier about it when you’re sober, give you that
Razan: I can’t help it if I suddenly feel sick, if it’s not your new romance, what else could it be?
Ava: 🍻 guarantee, it always gets you
Razan: not ALWAYS
Ava: whenever you’re trying to hang and prove you’re not just a 🥂🍷 girl
Razan: trying to hang?
Razan: because it’s such a big effort, yeah?
Ava: 💁🏼♀️
Razan: you’re a mean girl
Ava: oi, I am not
Razan: & common if you’re going to oi me like that 🗨️👷
Ava: if you wanna be that posh girl cliche, yeah, bit of rough
Razan: only in the mornings, don’t be too hard on yourself
Ava: interesting you insisted on so many sleepovers, then 😚
Razan: I don’t remember it being so one sided
Ava: could say the same to you
Razan: yeah, you could
Ava: it’s all gonna change isn’t it
Razan: What??
Ava: between us
Razan: no? why??
Ava: i don’t know, I’m drunk, ignore me
Razan: I’m not letting you ignore me because you’ve got a bf, thanks
Ava: I like him so much
Ava: it’s not like [the boy we cheated on you with and clearly dated for a bit]
Razan: of course it’s not like that, you’re done punishing me, which is all he was for
Razan: you’re allowed to like James, or anyone, & it be nothing to do with me
Ava: okay, good
Razan: not nothing though, I’m still your best friend
Ava: always
Ava: as my best friend you can be happy for me though, because he’s so lovely
Razan: met your match
Ava: 💕
Razan: it’s what I’d say to him, he can figure out your psychosis for himself, or tell you to take a quiz too
Razan: I felt loved & he’s lucky if he gets to go there with you
Ava: let’s not jinx anything
Razan: I’m not the witch, no worries I’ll do any spells
Ava: I’d like to love him, so he can know how it feels
Razan: then give yourself permission
Ava: I’ll wait for his this time
Razan: she’s learning 🤗
Ava: sure
Razan: I’m 🙂 for you & the 100% insane result you won’t get
Ava: ‘scuse me for not being able to turn my emotions on and off like a total socio 🙂
Razan: you’re excused, I don’t know anyone who can really do that
Ava: not putting it about you’re great at faking it, don’t worry
Razan: I’m not worried, everyone knows what makes me great
Ava: 👸🏽
Razan: & you’re done punishing me
Ava: yes, obviously
Razan: it’s obviously God’s turn, I feel so sick
Ava: you and God have more to work out than we do
Ava: go lie down
Razan: I’ll get some fresh air & be fine
Ava: alright, don’t puke on your new friends
Razan: don’t talk about it
Razan: you could jinx me
Ava: 🤐
Ava: gotta go anyway, he’s calling me
Razan: 💗😍💕🥰💞
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so we state how we got there then ask our question/share an opinion...?
okay i came here because i was actively checking for tags, any tags, that mentioned Margali Szardos by name (it's a cycle : i get obsessed by this same niche character at the same period every year but it's my first try on tumblr). your blog was like a lighthouse in this ocean of indifference so here i am
now my ask is, have you read strange academy by any chance ? cuz i feel like Margali would have been a perfect fit for that universe and setting instead of Legion of X. they have every magic user from Wanda to Illyana teaching there and helping out all kinds of magical children so Margali would have been right at home with new students and colleagues. hell you could have a subplot of Margali mentoring another Winding Way user and actually give more lore on that kind of magic. they also had evil magic users from other dimensions show up as well as Dormammu. just lots of potential for fanon works and a personal favourite read of mine
now for an opinion, i hate nightcrawler's new backstory. i genuinely do. firstly because the writer acts like his origins matter way more than they actually do (Kurt is +35 rn not a young adult or teen and literally never cared about that aspect after he heard the first few versions) and secondly because this truth reads like a blatant lie and slap to the face after everything that's ever happened to him in a "he never had any free will in his life actually since this moment was gonna happen regardless of what he did since Mystique and Destiny wanted and predicted it since he was born otherwise they would have intervened". the outcome and interactions following the reveal makes me think Mystique isn't the only one here with memory issues from the way Nightcrawler acts in this situation (Krakoa's chronic brain damage i guess). i think these origins would have worked way better for Rogue (it makes perfect sense for her really) and felt less like a spit to everything Nightcrawler went through in his life and with Mystique... and now Destiny... and Azazel too because these two threw him into Kurt's life for lolz basically : Nightcrawler gave up his soul because he needed to keep Azazel out of heaven since red guy used their biological blood ties and soul properties to get there and play captain hook but now ? now you're stuck wondering how that thing even worked back then since it's still being brought up by Azazel in dark xmen now
Sir (genderneutral for the bit), this is a dennys.
I'm not a rant blog for opinions two people just saw me and agreed with my takes and that temporarily turned me into one today dsfgdfgdfg
All I am is a dude who likes comics and specifically nightcrawler a Normal Human Amount (lying)
But yes! I know strange academy and I actually quite like it. I still gotta get the series to read it fully but I love the concept and uh. Very funny of you to bring that up cause in the last little rant ask that I got, I noted in the tags that I think she would be an interesting teacher for the school.
In general, I think margali should get a series for herself, she's super interesting with alot of lore behind her (being stronger than old comics stephen strange at one point, knowing wanda from when she was a child, possibly being a three time sorcerer supreme (earth, winding way, possibly limbo at one point), having powers that depend on a living dimension etc)
Also I just want to know more about her past, she was supposetly born in france, so like, how did that effect her? did she grow up there for a while? How did she get into magic? (I am ignoring mother righteous i am ignoring mother righteous I AM IGNORING MOTHER RIGHTEO-)
I already talked about my takes on the whole. bio-parent thing in these Lovely Posts if you care for my opinion, but yeah no, its messy.
Though, again there might be a. thing they did if I understood the comics wording right where Kurt is kinda the result of Raven using the Baron and Azazel as blue prints for having the kid??
So in theory, biologically he's christians, azazels, ravens and irenes kid (though raven also notes "countless others" so. infanite bioparents glitch kurt lets fucking gooo)
But I might've missunderstood the panels and the idea that they made kurt just have. all the bio-parents was too much of a absolutely gorgeous idea to not take it like that.
Either way another one on the pile of "writers love pulling the stupitest shit with kurt specifically"
remember when he had a daughter in a new reality that he forcefully forgot because he didnt want to break the rules of the new reality because people loved him, and then he realized that he should care for his daughter and promised her to finally be there for her, only for that really to be deleted.
that reality was like a bubble thing. that daughter was flesh and bone.
they never talk about it but he lost a child he just got back. (age of x-man, 2019)
I rember. I think of it alot.
#moth answers#maybe I should start a moth confessional tag#this whole day has been so funny to me you dont understand#who are these people at my door#am i but your medium?#a way to speak the thoughts that might get you banished otherwise#good lord i hope the fandom doesnt pull a uh- r vv by fandom on me for my spicey take of 'idk man I'm not feeling it story wise'#I get to say this I watched that show and have seen the fandom#this is why you'll never get my Tyrian analysis tumblr#I'd be eaten alive
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04 - s.mingi + degradation (18+)
» s.mingi x gn!reader
» 18+ dni if minor
» language, explicit smut, cock caging, degradation, praise, ruined orgasms, overstimulation, manual stimulation, anal fingering, use of sex toys/dildos, use of a riding crop, oral sex: m receiving (but not really), some impact play/cock slapping, use of gendered slurs (directed at mingi), dacryphilia, subspace, dominant reader, submissive mingi
» wc 2.7k
» link to masterlist
today you have mingi on his knees, skin pressing into the pale carpet in a way that looks more comfortable than it really is. it’s deceptively innocent, even without an ounce of clothing on his body and feet tucked under his ass like he’s trying to seem smaller than he actually is. it won’t work in his favor; such behavior never does when he’s already gone this far.
instead, it earns him a light smack over the top of his thigh with the riding crop in your hand, and the impact draws a whimper from his full lips seconds later. a slight bit of saliva trickles out the corner of his mouth, enough to catch on his chin and stop there before falling further. the visual is intoxicating in a lot of ways, things you don’t like to admit outside the bedroom out of fear of ruining the pretty, picture-perfect innocence you seem to bear there. some part of your brain does wonder what those people would think seeing you dominate mingi in this way when they always assume him to hold that position in your relationship.
on his knees, drooling and whimpering with a solid metal cage around his big useless cock, and you over him with a smile on your lips.
it’s intoxicating.
“you enjoy this, don’t you?” you inquire. the edge to your tone feigns true curiosity but your gaze says otherwise, something borderline sadistic to the way you look down at the man on his knees. “must be so hard having such a nice big cock only to have it locked up right now.”
the riding crop pushes under his chin. you raise his head to look more clearly at his face slowly, admiring the glisten on his brow and in his eyes. something twists in your brain.
you want to see him cry.
“i asked you a question, baby boy.”
mingi’s thighs twitch at that nickname, a blatant cue to how much he enjoys it, and his watery gaze flits up to look you in the eye.
“there’s my pretty baby, looking all good and needy for me,” you coo. there’s a faux innocence in your words, lacing some easy praise in to heighten the blow you’re about to deliver. “what a pathetic slut.”
if he could crumple to the floor, you don’t doubt that he would do so now, but he has enough sense to stay put despite how the words send a shudder through his spine. he tucks his hands further under his legs, pressing between where his calves and thighs squeeze together and make his skin splay like the perfect canvas for you to paint on. the red streaks across his pale skin, the sheen of sweat over them, and the way his muscles tremble from the effort of keeping still — he’s a masterpiece, one of your own creation, and you don’t plan on letting anyone else see him.
for now, though, you wish for those crystalline tears to fall, you want to see spit smeared over his neck and chest, and you want to hear him gag prettily for you.
“what do you want, baby?” you take a moment to squat down to his height, head tilting to the side as you look him in the eye. “want me to touch you?”
mingi offers his first weak nod of the night as his cheeks flush a pretty red and he ducks his chin to the side.
“good boy.” perhaps it’s a bit too cruel, the way you lower the riding crop further and slip the tip between the small gap in his cock cage. the leather digs into his dick, teasing his slit enough to make mingi writhe under your touch. he’s still good though — still stays put and doesn’t try bringing his hands out from where they’re losing feeling between his legs. it’s going to result in his first ruined orgasm, and you count the seconds in your head before he cries out and a weak trail of cum spills through the slit of metal encasing. “must be hard having to cum like that, baby. can’t even put your big dick to good use, huh?”
“n-no,” mingi whimpers as you pull the riding crop back and hold it to his face.
“clean it for me.”
his tongue slips out like he’s putting it on display. you give him a sweet smile that’s deceptively innocent again. the first slap of the leather on his tongue is a shock to him. it’s almost enough for him to lose his position and grab for his crotch, and you’re nearly tempted to take the cage off for him so he can cum properly. he has to earn that right though. you only give him two more sharp hits to the tongue before turning away and stepping over to the edge of the bed. mingi pants behind you, almost dog-like in how hard he’s breathing.
“need a break, princess? what’s your color?”
“green…. ‘m okay, ‘m okay, p-promise,” mingi huffs out in response, lifting his gaze to you as you look back at him over your shoulder.
“my pretty baby, you’re so good for me,” you singsong back through a tight-lipped grin. “made to be my perfect little toy… made for me, yeah?”
“y-yes.”
you exhale a breathy laugh despite his affirmation not being funny in the slightest.
“you aren’t being so chatty tonight, love, are you sure you want me that badly?”
“i do!” mingi almost stumbles over his words in the rush he makes to affirm them, and another laugh slips free, one that comes from your chest with more force. “i do, please, i want you.”
“please?” you echo, arching a brow at the collection of toys before you. you settle on one in particular and pick it up with delicate fingers and a smirk.
“please, please, i’ll beg, i’ve been good. i’m still in position! i’m being so good for you, y/n, i really am, right?”
“you are…” you turn back towards mingi, letting a genuine smile of adoration come over your lips. “you’re being my perfect little princess, baby. the perfect toy for me. you’re always so good, aren’t you?”
mingi nods like a man possessed, motions erratic in his rush to affirm your words. you press the head of the dildo in your hand further into your palm.
“do you wish this were you?” the stroke you give to the shaft is long and obnoxious, emphasizing the twist of your wrist and how you squeeze the base lightly. mingi goes dumb for a moment; his gaze flits over the silicone then up to your face then back down to your hand that repeats the rhythmic motions. “can’t even use your stupid cock to please me right now, but that’s okay, right? you can get off if i fuck myself with this in front of you, no?”
the whimper that leaves mingi is borderline pathetic.
“don’t worry, my love. i won’t do that to you. you’ve been so good for me tonight… there’s no need for punishment, okay?”
“promise?” he asks, lashes growing wetter by the second. your gut twists and turns, the desire to see those tears fall over the balls of his cheeks rising up only for you to squash it a second later.
“promise, baby boy.” you step closer to him again, and rather than kneeling down to his height, you merely stop before him and lower the flesh-toned dildo to his lips. “won’t you be a good cockslut and suck for me?”
it’s a lewd mimicry of an actual blowjob — the visual of him taking the dildo that’s settled in your palm right beside your hip almost makes it look real. his lips stretch around the girth, the size of it almost akin to how his own erection would look if not for the metal keeping him locked up right now. there’s a certain haziness to the way mingi blinks up at you, the motions slower than normal like he’s thinking too hard about it or approaching a different mindset that will leave him needy and clingy for hours to come. not that you mind — taking care of him afterward is almost as good as taking care of him during, and you’d rather die than be a bad dom for him.
you push the dildo to the back of his mouth, hitting his throat in one easy thrust, and the tears overflow. they stream over his skin with ease, and you see his shoulders begin to cave in a bit with each passing second. his hips jut in little staggered motions that betray his intentions, but you simply let him strive for a friction that will never really come. not the way he wants at least.
he’s drooling around the cock between his lips and wetting it more and more with each thrust. you can't resist the urge to take your free hand to his chin, catching a dribble of saliva and smearing down towards his chest. you cross the planes of his flat chest with a wet path in your wake before reaching one of his budded nipples. just brushing over it with the slightest amount of pressure has him groaning out a low moan. like music to your ears, he repeats the sound when you tweak his nipple a little harder.
“you can cum, baby boy. think your pathetic cock can squirt for me?” you pull the dildo from his mouth to let him speak, obviously waiting for an answer with the way you dangle the fake cock just out of his reach. his voice comes out gravelly and low when he manages to squeak out a response.
“good whores can.”
“is that what you are, my love?”
“please,” he whispers, an edge of desperation to his tone, and you can’t deny him what he wants.
“yes, my baby, you’re a good whore for me. all mine.” you nudge the dildo back to his waiting mouth, putting more pressure into your push this time around. mingi takes it almost greedily like it can’t get in his throat fast enough, and he all but leans into it seconds later. you squat down to his level, at last, keeping one arm up to thrust the silicone between his plump lips that have long since swollen up from the overuse. you don’t have your key on hand — it’s over on the bed along with your other supplies — but you won’t be needing it quite yet, reaching down to grip the little bit of his shaft that isn’t trapped within the metal cage.
mingi gags around the dildo once more, but this time you aren’t nearly as deep in his throat, so you withdraw the toy to let him choke out a few words.
“c-can you finger me? please?”
your mind goes blank for half a second, hand reaching up to sweep away some of the leftover tears on his cheeks before you recover and remember your place in the scene.
“mm, keep sucking.” you push the dildo down to the floor then go to pull mingi’s hands out from under his thighs. the freedom has him flexing his probably numb fingers as best he can, but he doesn’t waste any time in sitting up on his knees and bending in half to reach the fake cock once more. you get to your feet, eyes taking in the pretty expanse of his back and ass, the red marks on his hamstrings that indicate how much pressure he was putting on his hands. even as you retrieve the lube from the bed, mingi doesn’t budge and continues to follow your gentle orders without complaint.
you announce your arrival behind him with a sharp backhand slap to one side of his ass, delighting in the way he jolts and clenches around nothing. his noises are muffled by the dildo, but still music to your ears as always. his cock dangles uselessly between his legs, and the metal encasing jingles with his sporadic movements.
your first finger is cold when it slips into the heat of mingi’s ass, no effort put into trying to warm up the lube when you know how much mingi enjoys that first chill a little more every time. your fingers aren’t nearly as long as mingi’s so the effort that goes into searching for his sweet spot is far greater than it would be the other way around. he seems to content to wait, dick still dribbling strings of translucent cum like he never stopped cumming in the first place. you know by now he’s surely bordering the brink of overstimulation, the limit where it starts to become too much, but he keeps whining each time you threaten to pull your fingers out of him.
“one more, baby boy, then we’ll be done for the night and get you cleaned up,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him at this point because of how far gone he is. it’s endearing in a way, at least in your eyes it is, and it turns intoxicating once more with the first brush of your fingers over his prostate.
“hngh, o-oh… y/n, ah, i’ll cum early!” his mouth pops off the dildo to spew the words, and spit pools on the wood floor with his motions.
“the sooner you finish, the sooner we can get you in the bath, love.” you dig your fingers as deep as they can go, crooking them midway to repeat the same brush over his sweet spot. it garners you the reaction you were after — mingi cries out louder than he has so far in this session, legs going weak as he threatens to topple over. you grab for his hip with your free hand and try your best to steady his big body before he fully falls. all his cock can do at this point is give a few more weak spurts of the same translucent cum that pools on the floor between his legs. “good job, baby, look at you. you did so well for me.”
“y/n, i-i, fuck, i—”
“shh, baby, you’re okay, i’ve got you, okay?” you turn him to the side as gently as you can, trying to avoid any of the bodily fluids that are now spread over the wood, and help him lay flat against the floor on his back. you won’t make him stay there long, only enough for him to catch his breath and get some feeling back in his legs. you’ll get the key to his cage later too; you can’t risk leaving him right as he’s coming down from an orgasm even if it’s just a few feet away. so you drag yourself up his lanky body and settle over his waist with hands planted on his shoulders and a smile on your lips. “you with me still?”
“y-yeah,” he pants, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that there are wrinkles around his temples. you shift your hands up to brush over those spots, and the man under you relaxes into the touch.
it’s a slow process, bringing him down from the intensity of the orgasm and overstimulation, but it’s comfortable as well if you ignore the sweat sticking to your bodies.
“mm, okay, ‘m back, i’m back. fuckin’ drowsy as hell,” he murmurs some time later. the way his words slur is indication enough of his exhaustion, but you aren’t about to let him pass out on the floor like this.
“okay, big boy, up we go then. let’s take a bath and let me get everything cleaned up then you can pass out.” you move to climb off mingi and get to work, but he catches hold of your waist and tugs you back down to his face momentarily.
“love you, baby.”
you smile into his lips, pressing a chaste kiss there.
“i love you too.”
#mingi smut#ateez smut#ateez x reader#mingi x reader#mingi drabbles#mingi imagines#ateez drabble#ateez drabbles#ateez imagine#ateez imagines#mingi drabble#mingi imagine#kinktober2021#erm hello#im early tonight#now i have to go take a quiz so <3#enjoy in the meantime#be back in#an hour?#or so?#we'll see HAHA
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The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)
Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin.
A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male)
Word Count: 5.3k
MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist
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If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.
It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.
Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.
... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.
“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.
“He was just being nice.”
“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”
I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.
“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.
Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”
“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.
“Stop! It’s not like that!”
“Sure it’s not.”
Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.
“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.
I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.
Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.
“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”
But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.
“Okay – good.”
My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.
“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”
The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.
“You said you didn’t mind!”
In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”
When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.
As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.
“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.
“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.
The man beside him, however, was quick to question.
“Who’s this?”
As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.
“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.
“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.
I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.
“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”
“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.
There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.
“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.
Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.
“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”
With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.
“Ooh, is there a party?”
Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.
“No, it’s nothing.”
It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.
“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”
And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.
“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”
My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.
“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”
His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.
“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.
But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.
“Uhh...”
“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”
Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.
“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).
“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.
The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.
Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”
It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.
“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”
“I’m very motivated?”
Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”
“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”
I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.
“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.
Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”
But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.
I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.
With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”
Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.
Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.
Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.
Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.
“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.
I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.
“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”
I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.
“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”
Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.
Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”
“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”
The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.
“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.
Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”
It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.
I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.
Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.
“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”
Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.
“Double promise. Promise squared.”
“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”
I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.
“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”
I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.
“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”
“For what?” he also said through laughter.
“I— don’t know.”
Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.
Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”
So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.
Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.
I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.
——————————————————
There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.
That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.
No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.
“So... Bunny.”
“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.
“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.
“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”
“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”
But that time, it was me who issued the warning.
“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”
“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”
The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.
Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”
He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”
“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.
“She’s a virgin.”
Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.
“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.
But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.
“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”
It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.
“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”
“Cut it out.”
Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”
“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”
The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.
“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”
“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”
“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”
I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.
But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.
A fucking tease.
“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.
“Are you done?”
As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.
“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”
I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.
“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.
“Goodnight!”
Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.
But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.
Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.
As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.
Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.
“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”
I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.
It was a set of pictures.
Pictures of her.
“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”
How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.
I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.
They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.
“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”
As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.
I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.
But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.
But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.
Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.
Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.
I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.
That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.
I wanted it. I wanted her.
My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.
If I stole it from her, would it be mine?
Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?
If I ruined her, would she be mine?
I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.
She would be mine.
That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.
She would be mine.
The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.
She was already mine.
——————————————————
| Part Four |
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid series#reid series#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds self insert#criminal minds smut#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid slow burn#spencer reid x reader#reid x reader#spencer x reader#professor spencer reid#prof spencer reid#professor reid#prof reid#tbatb#dr spencer reid#dr reid
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Poison in my Veins
Summary: Geralt takes a mix of potions on a hunt and has an uncharacteristically bad reaction. Jaskier helps him deal.
Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier
Rating: Mature
Warnings: smut, dubious consent on the basis of sex pollen (but they’re both into it), minor levels of whump
Read on Ao3
Geralt hates potions. He always has, and he probably always will.
They're useful, sure, and he takes them because he needs the edge they provide when he's hunting, but the negatives far outweigh the positives, as far as he's concerned.
Depending on the concoction, they make him prone to headaches, sensitive to light, lightheaded, nauseous. And those are just the mild ones. That's not saying anything about the way they make him look, or how some of the more intense potions feel like they're burning him up, make him twitchy and hypersensitive.
He's mixed a vial of kiss and black blood for his hunt tonight and he knows he's going to need them, even if he hates it, even if he doesn't want to use them. Jaskier's in camp tonight and he doesn't...he doesn't want to have to hide in the trees until he looks normal and approachable again. It's the worst part, feeling strung out and needy and knowing he's got to wait another thirty plus minutes until his eyes change, until the black of his veins fade until he can return to camp.
He hates it.
-----
He knows as soon as he downs the potions in quick succession that something's wrong. He dispatches the garkain taking up residence in the nearby cave smoothly and without problem, but there's a burning under his skin that shouldn't be there, a tight, hot curling in his gut that makes him double over, makes him moan brokenly. It’s not the normal slightly queazy response he has to this mix of potions. It's not...it's not good, this feeling, but he gets the impression it could be, maybe. It feels like being so strung out, so needy that everything hurts, and tears spring to his eyes as he curls tighter into himself, knees hitting the cave floor and he moans again, an unpleasant, painful sound.
It's how Jaskier finds him, however long later.
"Geralt, what--" he stops in the mouth of the cave, and Geralt knows something's really wrong with him because he should have heard him coming, should have--
"Jask," he grinds out, and his voice is thin with pain, "Jask, please--" he doesn't know what he's asking him for, but Jaskier steps forward anyway, puts his hand carefully on Geralt's shoulder as he ducks to get a better look at his face. The touch is like a brand, even through the thick leather of his armor.
"Geralt? Are you okay?"
"Potions," he says, breathless with the tender brush of Jaskier's hand along his arm, the way he squeezes his bicep gently. Even with the barrier between bare skin, it's too much, "hurts."
"Is that--" he trails off, other hand coming up to cup his cheek, force him to look him in the eye. He can feel his face heat, knows that like this his blush will be black like ink instead of red. Jaskier breathes in sharply, thumb rubbing idly back and forth against his cheekbone.
"Yes."
"What can I do to help?" It's...a valid question. But there's not anything that can be done, and if Jaskier isn't going to run screaming, apparently--
"Help me back to camp? Please." It hurts to ask, but not as much as the knotting, painful feeling in his gut, not as much as Jaskier's fingertips on his bare skin. Jaskier nods, more to himself than anything, before working his way under Geralt’s arm and winding his own around Geralt��s waist. When he’s got a good grip on him he stands, dragging Geralt upright with him.
"Oh, fuck," Jaskier gasps when Geralt moans and his knees buckle, almost bringing both of them back to the ground, "work with me, Geralt, I'm trying here."
He focuses on keeping upright, one foot in front of the other as Jaskier leads him from the cave toward their camp. His gut burns unpleasantly and he wants to curl up again so badly. His skin prickles where Jaskier touches and he realizes, belatedly, that what he feels is arousal, so bright and hot it hurts. He wants to wrap his fist around his cock and strip himself until he physically can't take the touch anymore, wants Jaskier to hold him--
"Doing okay?" Jaskier asks when Geralt stumbles, but he keeps a firm grip around his waist, keeps him moving despite the way he drags them both down. Geralt knows he's hard and he knows Jaskier must know, but he hasn't drawn attention to it.
"No," he says honestly, "keep walking." He can see the way Jaskier presses his lips together firmly in response, but he doesn't stop, continues to help Geralt hobble closer to camp, slowly but surely.
By the time they make it back to the camp, Geralt's shaking so hard he can barely stay upright, and Jaskier's gone absolutely silent, breathing ragged as he labors under the majority of Geralt's weight.
He's expecting to be deposited unceremoniously on the ground, but Jaskier lowers him gently beside the fire. As soon as Geralt's knees hit the packed dirt, he's curling forward, moaning lowly.
"Okay, okay, just--" Jaskier's breathless from exertion, but he's still fussing over Geralt, hands working quickly at the clasps of his chest piece as he focuses on freeing him of the heavy leathers, "--give me a minute, Geralt, hold on--"
"Fuck," he mumbles, forcing himself still as Jaskier plucks at the buckles and ties, undoing them deftly. It makes his blood sing to feel Jaskier undressing him, even if he knows that's not how this is going to go.
"I need you to sit back for a minute, Geralt, can you do that?" he asks, palm searing against his back where it rests. He's sure Jaskier means it as a kind of reassurance but all it makes him feel is want.
He doesn't say anything, just forces himself more upright, even as it makes that curl of intense pain flare in his gut. He closes his eyes and forces himself to focus.
There's a high, whining noise in his ears that he realizes belatedly is him. Jaskier's speaking, soft soothing nonsense as he rushes to free the last few ties and pry him out of the armor, and as soon as the heavy weight of it is gone, he's shucking his shirt as well. He shifts to curl back over, but Jaskier doesn't move, a hand pressed gently to his chest. Unbidden, Geralt whines. Jaskier's expression flickers with something, there one minute and gone the next.
"Geralt, you've never...what's going on?"
"Potions," he repeats roughly. "Jask, please--" there's blatant need in his voice, and Jaskier jolts, eyes meeting Geralt's straight on and holding his gaze, which--
"What do you need, love?"
He can't ask that of him, even if he knows Jaskier would give it. This burning feeling will only intensify before it runs itself out. He can...he can wait it out. He's done similar before.
"Space," he says, not meaning it for a moment, but Jaskier nods, shifts back and away to let Geralt curl back around himself, folding his arms on the ground and press his forehead to them tightly. His gut cramps like there's a fist in there, squeezing tight, and he can't help the shocky little sound of pain that filters through his lips when he shifts, his dick catching against the rough fabric of his trousers.
"Geralt?"
"Hurts," he repeats, "sorry, I--" he cuts off when Jaskier presses in close again, not touching but close enough for the calming scent of lavender and pine to wash over him. It makes him ache sharply, makes his dick throb, even if he smells nothing but the sour note of concern under that, tinging with something like fear.
"How's it hurt, love?" he asks softly, and Geralt can feel Jaskier's desire to reach out like a physical thing. It's...worse, somehow, than he thought it would be. His touch burns, but--
"Bad potion mix, they must have been off and I fucked it up, I--" he has to snap his jaw shut or risk biting off his tongue as a wave of shivers hit him, so sharp they're almost, almost pleasant, if it weren't for the aching burn in his gut, "--ah--"
"Geralt?"
"Sorry, I--" he cuts off again, whining as he presses his forehead to his arms, hard. "--Melitele fucking help me."
Jaskier sits silently at his side even though he's practically vibrating with energy, and Geralt just...rides out the sharp swell of it for a few moments, waiting for the bright hot burning need to settle for the time he needs to speak.
"Always a little...ah...but this is, mm--" there's a sharp, needy quality to the noises he keeps making; he can hear them as if they come from another person, "intense." He's panting as if he's run straight from Vizima to Novigrad on foot.
"And there's nothing I can do to help?" he asks, "like a massage or--"
Geralt laughs. It's sharp and painful, more a bark of noise than true laughter. It shocks Jaskier silent.
"Jaskier, I am so hard I can't breathe, you touching me is the problem."
"O-oh," he stutters out, and Geralt wishes he could see his face, gauge his reaction. Is he disgusted? Amused? Merely indifferent? Geralt's already too far gone to read his tone. "Did you...nothing will help?"
"Jerking off might," he bites out, feeling the heat in his cheeks, "but I...it's never been this bad before, I can't fucking think--"
"Do you need help?" Jaskier asks, and the pulse of arousal is so strong it sends him spiraling in another wave of cramps. He cries out this time, trying to ride out the bright hot flare of pain as Jaskier makes his own soft, distressed noises above him.
"You can't help," he gets out eventually. It's supposed to be angry, but it just comes out breathy and weak.
"Okay so you don't--okay," Jaskier says, sounding more like he's talking to himself than Geralt before clearing his throat and sitting up a little straighter, "so you don't want me touching you. Why can't you get yourself off? That should help, yeah?"
"Hurts," he breathes, gut-clenching at the thought of Jaskier watching him. He's just getting that surge of white-hot arousal under control and now it threatens to overwhelm him again, "can't...can't lay flat long enough to--"
"Ah," Jaskier says, as if suddenly getting the picture, "it's...like a cramp? Like that time I had the food poisoning and--"
"Yes," Geralt cuts him off quickly. He doesn't want to think about Jaskier on his knees in any context, even if it involves lots of vomiting and tears.
"Mm, you know what helped with that," Jaskier says, tone conversational, "was when you held me, actually. Do you think that might work?"
Geralt whines again, muscles tensing as the curling heat in his stomach bursts to fresh life again. The thought of Jaskier touching him, holding him so tenderly, even if he's not--
"Please," his traitor of a mouth says before he can catch up to it, "please, it hurts so bad, Jask, I just want--" he cuts off on a sob when Jaskier's palms settle on his back, rubbing warm, soothing circles as he shuffles around him into what his hazy focus assumes must be a better position.
"Alright, Geralt, alright," he's soothing, voice low and warm. Distantly Geralt realizes the fear scent is gone as Jaskier tucks himself across Geralt's back, palms sliding to his hips as he curves over him. "I know it hurts, love, but we're gonna lay back, alright?"
"Can't," he gasps out, hands scrabbling for Jaskier's forearms, hold him closer, "Jaskier, I can't."
"Sure you can," Jaskier says softly, voice honey-sweet and warm, "I know you can, Geralt, you're so strong, love--"
He chokes on a soft sound at the praise, and Jaskier just hums. "I know, darling, you can do it, relax for me."
Slowly, bit by bit, Jaskier works his arms around Geralt's waist and eases him backward until he's sitting upright, knees shaky where they’re bent under him.
"Oh, good job, sweetheart," Jaskier breathes, and Geralt's gut clenches so tight it’s unpleasant, hips twitching, "you're so hard, darling, why don't you take care of that? I'm sure it will take the edge off a little."
He's whining, a thin, sustained noise as he fumbles at the button of his trousers, drawing himself out with shaky hands. He knows from experience that the pull of his own hand feels good, but all he can process is the searing pain, the way it knots his gut and makes him breathless.
"Hey, hey," Jaskier soothes in his ear, hands pressing hard to his stomach just above the jut of his cock, "take it slow, love. Enjoy it." He doesn't enjoy the rough drag of his own hand, but Jaskier's palms against his stomach, right above that licking heat is...
"Fuck," he sobs, hips snapping, but Jaskier just holds him calmly, fingers brushing slowly back and forth across his overheated skin.
"I know, Geralt. Easy, darling," he murmurs. He lets Geralt jerk himself for what feels like an awful stretch of time with no results.
"Isn't working," he rasps out, and he's not sure when he started crying, but there are tears on his cheeks and his throat is raw with them.
"Do you want help?" Jaskier asks, voice calm, and the thought of Jaskier's hands wrapped around his dick--
"Yes, please, oh fuck," he gasps, squirming. Jaskier doesn't even have his hands on him yet, but just the thought--
"Alright, darling, alright," he murmurs, fingers sliding from the flat stretch of his stomach lower to wrap around his cock, and Geralt jerks, coming in long, hot spurts that leave him sobbing, fingers digging into the flesh of Jaskier's thighs as he desperately grasps at something to ground him. "Oh, that's so good, Geralt, there you go, good boy."
"Jaskier," he gasps, not softening in the least as Jaskier continues to work him over, tugging him toward a second peak with skilled fingers and soft words.
"I know, sweetheart, does it still hurt?"
He can't speak, just nods roughly. He moves to press his forearm against his lower stomach and Jaskier lets him before resettling his palm over the top of his arm, a warm, reassuring weight as he continues to jerk him off, slow and smooth.
"That's alright, we'll get you everything you need, Geralt, don't worry, oh, look at you," he breathes when Geralt locks up, spilling a second time over Jaskier's fist and his own thighs, "aren't you a sight?"
"Jaskier, please--"
"You want me to stop?" he asks, touch gentling but not pulling away. He’s worked his trousers and smalls down to his calves at some point, and he kicks free of them, finally bare. Behind him, Jaskier is still clothed, and the contrast makes his skin prickle. All of him aches fiercely, but it's not so bad he feels like he'll die, like he needs to curl into a ball and rock back and forth, sobbing with it, not like earlier.
"No," he mumbles anyway, and Jaskier makes a sweet, approving sound before his lips press against Geralt's shoulder, softly.
"Thank you for letting me help, love," he says, lips brushing skin. He redoubles his efforts, bringing Geralt to an easy third peak, but he can still feel that awful itching burn under his skin that tells him they're not done, even though he's already tired.
"Jaskier--"
"Hm?" he asks. He's paused to play with the head, thumb pressing just a touch shy of too hard under it. It makes his hips twitch, makes him groan. He knows he needs to ask if he wants more than just this, but--
"Would you--" he wets his lips and inadvertently catches sight of his own dick in Jaskier's hand, the way he's swollen angry and nearly purple, the delicate curl of Jaskier's fingers around all that firm flesh, and he watches, raptured, as those fingers stroke to the base, dip to fondle his balls, reach back--
"Yes," he hisses, back arching, and Jaskier rubs a little more firmly against his hole, humming softly.
"You want me to get you off on my fingers? Jerking you off doesn't seem to be helping." It is, of course, but it's a slow depletion of the potions after effects. He knew, even as the burning, itching feeling had settled into his bones, that this was one of the bad ones, one that is easier fucked out of him than fucked through.
"Yes," he husks, "please," and then Jaskier is dragging his hand through the mess of Geralt’s come and pushing one slender digit in, slowly but surely. "Oh, fuck." The ache isn't gone, but it's immediately eased with that slight fullness.
"Breathe, Geralt," Jaskier reminds, and he sucks in a sobbing breath, head lolling on Jaskier's shoulder as he spreads his knees a little wider to give him better access, "there you go, love."
"Fuck me, please," he mumbles, and Jaskier does, moving that single digit in and out nice and easy. The slick of his come eases the way and his head spins as his gut clenches. He needs-- "more, please."
"Eager," Jaskier says, lips pressing to his shoulder again, but there's a second finger nudging against his rim before pressing in, slow and steady, and he chokes on his next breath, "but that's okay. Let me know if it's too much."
It isn't. He wants more, faster, harder, but he doesn't want Jaskier to think he's greedy. It's bad enough he's nearly out of his mind with need, bad enough Jaskier has to see him like this at all, but--
"You're thinking too hard," Jaskier says softly, and he crooks his fingers, brushing against that spot inside him that makes him shake, gasping, "I want you focused on this, Geralt, not whatever's up in that head of yours."
"What if I'm thinking about you?" he whines, prodding for a weakness, anything. Jaskier laughs softly.
"No need to think about me, love, I'm right here." He twists to press his lips to Geralt's cheek at the same time Geralt twists to look back at him and their lips brush, just barely. They both freeze.
"Fuck--" The moment doesn't last long. As Jaskier's fingers still, the heat flares up, sharp and overwhelming, and Geralt's head rolls against his shoulder again as he squirms, trying to encourage Jaskier to move.
"Sorry," he breathes, fingers resuming their easy movement. It quells some of the feeling, but he's still painfully hard, still needy and right on the edge, "sorry, Geralt, can I kiss you?"
"Please," he sobs, twisting his head, lips searching, and then Jaskier is there, lips sliding against his own. Geralt assumes Jaskier will kiss gently, will kiss as thoroughly as he's fucking his fingers into him, slow and controlled and overwhelming. What he gets instead is fierce heat, the slick slide of lips and the quick bite of teeth before the nip is soothed away with the cool lap of his tongue, leaving him gasping.
Jaskier crooks his fingers again as he licks into Geralt's mouth and Geralt comes with a muffled cry, hips twitching as Jaskier milks his prostate, cock spilling over his hip.
Jaskier works him through it, fingers tucked against that spot inside him until it hurts, until he's squirming again and whining, and only then does he back off, fingers easing away from his prostate to play with his rim instead.
"How are we feeling, Geralt?"
"Good," he whines, "Jask, I need--"
"More?" he asks, fingers teasing lightly along his rim until he's panting with it.
"Yes, please, gods fuck me, please--"
"Alright, darling, alright." He kisses him again, quick. "But you are alright though?"
"Yes, Jaskier, please--"
"Alright," he soothes, "touch yourself for me," he says, and then he's pulling away, fingers sliding free. There's an immediate flare in his gut, sharp and painful, but not as bad as it was. Almost...almost manageable. Especially as he wraps his own fist around his cock, movements quick and jerky. He doesn't say anything as Jaskier eases him down onto his back on the hard ground, situates himself between his thighs. He thinks...he thinks maybe he should, but--
"How's it feel?" Jaskier asks, curling his own hand around Geralt's where he's pumping himself roughly still. He jerks in response to the touch, needing Jaskier's more than his own.
"Good," he gasps, "so good, Jask, I--" he bites off the words, teeth sinking into his lower lip. There's...there's no need to tell Jaskier how bad he wants him, no need for Jaskier to know about how he feels. It would make it weird. He's just...he's just here to help.
"Good," Jaskier says, voice rough as he kisses him again, filthy and quick, "want you to feel good, Geralt."
His hand falls away as Jaskier shifts between his thighs and he situates himself around Jaskier's waist. He’s still fully dressed, chemise rucked up, trousers open and dick curving hard and hot from the open vee of his trousers. Compared to Jaskier, Geralt feels open and exposed but he burns with the need to feel Jaskier inside him.
"Don't tease," he says when Jaskier drags the slick head of himself over Geralt's entrance but doesn't push in, "please, Jask."
Jaskier hums and steadies himself wordlessly before pressing in, and the thick, burning pressure makes him shout as he arches into it, hips canting to get him deeper faster.
"Slow," Jaskier grunts, hands on his waist, and Geralt sobs, fingers scrabbling along his shoulders as he yanks him down over his chest, forces him closer.
"Please, need it now, fuck me, please," he gasps, thighs flexing, and Jaskier groans, a deep, primal sound that makes Geralt shiver. "Fuck me hard, Jask, come on--"
Jaskier growls and snaps his hips forward almost brutally as he sinks the rest of the way in and it's perfect, leaves Geralt breathless. There are tears trickling down his cheeks again but it's good, it's so good--
Jaskier doesn't move, wrapping his fist around Geralt's dick and jerking him off hard and fast until he's coming again, Jaskier buried inside him and grinding filthily against his ass but not really moving. Above him, Jaskier hisses, but otherwise doesn't respond, teeth grit in something like a grimace.
"Jask," he slurs out, feeling drunk on pleasure, and Jaskier grunts, leaning forward to kiss him when he tips his chin up needily, "want you to fuck me for real," he mumbles when they part, just enough to breathe, "please."
"'M gonna come if I do that," Jaskier says, words pressed into his lips as he kisses him again, over and over in brief, delightfully filthy little presses.
"'S okay," he says, and it's true; the burning, clenching feeling in his gut has mellowed. He feels...almost normal.
"Are you gonna be okay? I thought you needed to be full?" and the tender care in his voice, despite how rough and deep it is, despite the way his hips twitch restlessly against his ass, makes Geralt flush hot.
"I do," he says softly, "but I want your come in me more," and Jaskier makes a harsh, painful sound.
"You say the prettiest things, Geralt," he gasps, and then he's fitting his palms beneath Geralt's knees and pushing them back to his chest, holding him open. Geralt's own hands settle on his thighs to help as Jaskier pulls back partway before snapping forward again.
The first thrust is like heaven, sharp and pleasurable and almost overwhelming. Geralt makes a sharp, needy noise in response, and Jaskier bares his teeth, expression fierce as he pulls back to fuck into him again, just as hard. The singleminded focus in his eyes makes Geralt feel hot, makes his gut churn and his dick twitch and he can't help but think about how much he wishes this were different--
His thoughts are interrupted by a hand in his hair, yanking hard as Jaskier sinks in again, makes him cry out hoarsely.
"Where are you, Geralt?" Jaskier asks, and it's clear he doesn't mean physically.
"Here," he mumbles anyway, "with you."
"No," Jaskier grunts, hips snapping forward again, and Geralt whimpers, "don't lie to me, Geralt."
"I want you," he sobs out when Jaskier snaps back in again, and Jaskier makes a tsk-ing noise.
"You have me, Geralt, what are you really thinking about?" He tugs the strands in his fist a little harder, tips his head back a little farther as he snaps in again, and Geralt can't help but wail as his cock twitches. He's so close-- "tell me."
"Want you to want me," he gasps, even as he wishes he could strangle the words in his throat--the fierceness in Jaskier's eyes, the intense look there is flaying him open in a way he's never felt before. He couldn't stop them if he wanted to, "want you to want this, Jask, please--"
"You think I don't?" he pants out, still not losing his rhythm, "hm? You think I'd do this for anyone, Geralt?"
He doesn't have an adequate response for him. Of course he doesn't think Jaskier would do this for just anyone, but--
"You think I'm slutty enough to slide between just anyone's thighs, Geralt?" he asks, fingers cinching tighter in Geralt's hair, and he can't help but cry out, back arching.
"N-no, no, fuck, Jask, of course not, I--"
"Then why am I here, Geralt?" he growls out, punctuating the question with the thrust of his hips, and Geralt's thoughts scatter as he nails that place inside him again, leaves him gasping and whining. "Answer me, Geralt. Why am I here?"
He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know why Jaskier's here if not out of some twisted sense of loyalty. But he also knows if he says anything about loyalty right now, Jaskier's likely to snap and he's...he doesn't want that.
"I don't know," he gasps, fingers clawing uselessly across his shoulders, and Jaskier hisses at the bite of his nails, "'M sorry, I don't know."
"I want to," Jaskier growls out, forcing Geralt's eyes to meet his with the hand tangled in his hair, "you fucking idiot, I want to."
He doesn't know when Jaskier closes the space between them again to kiss him, but as soon as he does, Geralt can't breathe, needs Jaskier's mouth moving against his own more than he needs air. And still, Jaskier's relentless pace doesn't let up.
"'M gonna come," he gasps against Jaskier's lips, and Jaskier just hums softly in the back of his throat as his fingers rise to flick over his nipples teasingly, and that's it.
Geralt comes hard, shivers wracking his frame as Jaskier works him through it, thrusts angled deliberately to hit his prostate. Each brush feels like coming anew, makes him whine sharply into Jaskier's mouth despite the lack of come painting his stomach--he's come almost dry this time.
He's still whining and clenching around Jaskier's length, still oversensitive, when Jaskier shoves in deep and comes with a strangled noise, lips slipping messily against his own. The feeling of being filled is good, makes him feel loose and pliant, even as Jaskier collapses across his chest, sticky mess between them.
They lay together, silently panting, for a long, tired moment before Jaskier shifts to pull out and rolls off him. Geralt immediately misses the firm weight of him.
He waits for Jaskier to say something in the issuing silence, but he doesn't, just lays there quietly alongside him, only the harshness of his breathing, already easing, between them.
"I'm...sorry," he says awkwardly, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He no longer feels like he might die, but he's still not quite right either, riding the aftershocks of pleasure that make him feel dumb and hazy.
"What for?" Jaskier asks, fingers rising to pluck at the ruined fabric of his chemise before squirming out of it with a sigh, tossing it somewhere to the side.
"For...forcing you into such a position," he says, and Jaskier sighs, an awful, put upon sound.
"You didn't force me into anything, Geralt," he says, "or were you not listening?" The reminder of Jaskier's very attentive lesson makes him flash hot. It's almost upsetting to be turned on again so soon. He doesn't think he could come again if he tried.
"I..."
"Do you need a reminder already?" he asks, voice like steel, and Geralt can't help the whimper that slips through his lips. "I told you I was here because I wanted to be. I do. Too much." Something in Geralt's chest lurches.
"I...not as much as I do," he mumbles, eyes averted. Jaskier is silent so long Geralt can't stand it--he looks back at him, just in time to catch the shock fading to something soft, something like longing.
"What do you mean, Geralt?"
Fuck. Jaskier's really going to make him say it. Again.
"I...told you," he says haltingly, and his cheeks are on fire, "I want you to want me."
"More than just when you're ten seconds from dying without an orgasm," Jaskier says, voice teasing, but there's sincerity behind it, and Geralt feels himself flush harder.
"Yeah."
"Good," Jaskier says simply, "because I do." It...takes Geralt a minute, for his world to readjust.
"You...do?"
"Mm," Jaskier hums, rolling closer and tucking his head under Geralt's chin pointedly. Belatedly, Geralt brings his arms up to wrap around his waist. Nothing about this could be considered comfortable--they're laying on the hard ground feet from Geralt's actual bedroll, Jaskier's still got his trousers on, Geralt can feel come dripping down his thighs and he's absolutely covered in his own spend, itchy where it's already begun to dry.
"Oh," he says softly, and Jaskier gives a snort of laughter, pressing a kiss to Geralt's collarbone.
"Thought you already knew, darling."
"I...did not," he says, and everything has a surreal, slightly fuzzy quality to it. It's...probably the after-affects of the potion, coupled with the haze of pleasure still running through him.
"Mm, well now you do," Jaskier says, "what are you gonna do about it?" It's teasing again, soft. Geralt sighs, a quiet, content gust of breath.
"'M gonna nap," he slurs out, dragging Jaskier closer to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, "and then we'll see about repaying your...favor," he mumbles, and Jaskier laughs, bright and soft.
"I'll hold you to that."
#witcher#witcher fic#geraskier#lizard writes#rating: mature#this is more purely self indulgent smut bc i promised myself a potions fic and STILL had not got around to it
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8- gordon at Benry
“I can’t believe you told them you were my fiancé.”
“Huh? You didn’t say no, though.”
The moms of Joshua’s soccer team were an impenetrable clique. Gordon had no idea why, but for whatever fucking reason, they’d decided they hated him. Maybe he had brought the wrong snacks to practice, maybe they didn’t appreciate Joshua teaching all their sons swear words, maybe he cheered a little too loud at games. Whatever, he could deal with a little pettiness and false politeness from a bunch of housewives. He’d dealt with worse.
It was one of the first games of the season, and it was Gordon’s turn to bring drinks for the team. He was almost at the soccer field, hoping his pack of mini Gatorades would appease Joshua’s teammates, when he realized he was bringing an additional unknown variable: Benrey. The former security guard tagging along to all his outings had become such an expected occurrence at this point that he’d completely forgotten that Benrey had never gone to one of Joshua’s games before. He grimaced to himself as he pulled into the parking lot. Benrey had gotten a lot better about not doing blatant alien shit in public over time, but he was still a rogue element. Gordon could only hope he was in a chill enough mood to not make a scene on the soccer field.
Joshua had taken off running in the direction of his friends the moment the car parked, and Gordon and Benrey followed a distance behind, Gatorade packs in hand.
“Gordon, you made it!” One of the soccer moms waved at them as they walked over. “We were worried you might be late again.”
Gordon tried to turn gritted teeth into a smile. “Just because I was late one time, Katie, doesn’t mean I’m always going to be late.”
Katie gave him an equally fake smile and turned her gaze on Benrey, who was setting his pack of Gatorades down next to the cooler. “And who’s this? I don’t think we’ve met!”
“Hm?” Benrey glanced up at her, then reached out for a handshake, his hand still damp with condensation. “Yo. Benrey.”
“Katie,” She said, shaking his hand for as short a time as possible. She glanced between him and Gordon, trying to make some kind of connection between them. “Are you Joshua’s… uncle?”
“What?” Benrey squinted at her from under the rim of his baseball cap. “Nah, I’m Gordon’s fiancé.”
Gordon promptly choked on air.
Katie’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “I didn’t know Gordon was engaged!”
“Aw bro, you didn’t tell them?” Benrey turned his version of puppy dog eyes on Gordon, which was really just an intense stare since he’d never quite figured out how puppy eyes worked. Gordon thought he could see mischief behind the stare.
“Man, can you blame me? It happened pretty recently.” Gordon tried to convey ‘what the fuck are you doing?!’ without giving them away to Katie. Benrey just grinned and grabbed Gordon’s hand, doubling down.
“Well! I’m glad Joshua’s new stepdad could make it to one of his games!” Katie said, clasping her hands together.
“Yeah, I’m excited. Joshie’s gonna kick your kid’s ass, gonna make all the touchdowns.”
“Um.” Katie faltered, and it took all of Gordon’s strength not to snort. Never had he been so pleased by Benrey’s ability to throw anybody off their rhythm. “Well, our boys are on the same team, and it’s soccer, not f-”
“Huh? What? Sucker? What’re you calling me?”
“Okay! Well! We better go get our chairs set up!” Gordon yelled, dragging Benrey away before he could make it worse. Which led them to where they were now, sitting in lawn chairs on the side of the field, Gordon struggling not to completely break down into laughter. Benrey looked impossibly smug, slouched beside him.
“What was I supposed to say, man?” Gordon continued to protest. “I panicked! God, I’m so fucked. How am I supposed to explain that we aren’t engaged without sounding like a lunatic?”
“Just don’t? Easy.” Benrey shrugged.
“No, you don’t get it. She’s gonna be watching us like a hawk to see if we actually act like a couple.”
“Okay. Guess we gotta act like a couple now.” Benrey raised an eyebrow at him. “Unless you’re chicken? Baby chickenshit? Too afraid to act like he wants to smooch his best friend Benrey?”
“I’m not afraid, asshole.”
“Yeah? Prove it.”
Oh, a challenge, huh? Well, when he put it like that, there was no way Gordon could back down. Gordon leaned over and put his hand on Benrey’s shoulder. “You’re on,” He said, rubbing his thumb affectionately on the side of Benrey’s neck for good measure.
Pretending to flirt was way more fun than it should’ve been. It felt like second nature to lean in a little closer to talk than they would normally or to throw around obnoxious pet names to make each other laugh or to initiate extra physical affection. It felt so natural, in fact, that Gordon almost forgot why he was doing it as he got more distracted by Joshua’s game. Joshua’s team only needed one more point to win, and Joshua had control of the ball, and Benrey and Gordon were absolutely riveted. They were holding hands, but both of them weren’t even paying attention to that, far more concerned with being the loudest people cheering from the sidelines for Joshua’s success. When Joshua kicked as hard as he could and the soccer ball shot to the back of the goal, Gordon shouted “yes!” at the top of his lungs. Giddy with excitement, he turned, grabbed Benrey’s face, and planted a kiss directly on his mouth.
He hadn’t even realized what he’d done until he was already on the field, hugging and congratulating his son. Mortification shot through him like a spike. Oh shit. It was only a dumb competition, he definitely took it way too far, Benrey was never going to let him live this down-
Benrey’s head bonked heavily against his shoulder, an established form of affection Gordon had gotten used to over the past several months. Gordon leaned away from Joshua to give Benrey room to ruffle the kid’s hair and give him congrats of his own. If he hadn’t been so focused on the two of them, Gordon might have missed the sidelong look Benrey sent him and the slight smile that accompanied it.
Joshua was momentarily distracted by one of his friends running over and talking about something a mile a minute, which gave Benrey the chance to nudge Gordon in the side. “Hey,” He said. Gordon looked over at him just in time to receive a kiss on the cheek. Benrey grinned at Gordon’s dumbstruck expression, then scooped Joshua up onto his shoulders like nothing had happened. “Yo, Joshua! Your dad is gonna buy us ice cream!”
“Wh- I never said that!” Gordon protested, following them as Benrey and Joshua chanted ‘ice cream!’ over and over the whole way to the car. He laughed and shook his head. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to deal with the soccer mom clique on his own anymore.
#hlvrai#frenrey#gordon feetman#benrey#my writing#okay to reblog#this was a lot of fun lol#it's VERY tropey but I'm allowed a few tropes. as a treat.
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I saw this take on twitter about Hana & Kacchan having “reverse parallels” and since they both have apologised to Tenko/Deku (but one was more or less sincere and the other was absolutely sincere) and they said that, while Hana moved away from Tenko, Kacchan ran to catch Deku. There was also more to the thread abt Kacchan & Hana’s differences. They were sorta trying to argue that this is a clue that Hori intends for Bkdk to be sibling-like/brotherly. As a bkdk shipped, I’ve accepted that it makes sense.. cause it’s an established fact that Tenko & Deku parallel each other. Tenko having his own “Kacchan” makes sense. Tho yes I am a little sad since I’ve held a little bit of hope for romantic bkdk becoming canon. I just wanted to ask your opinion if Hana was really meant to foil Kacchan or was it just a reach?
okay so I have a couple responses to this.
1. while it's true that Horikoshi has woven a lot of deliberate parallels between Deku and Tenko's characters, that doesn't mean every single thing about their lives and every single person they interact with is a part of those parallels. which is to say that no, I don't really think Hana and Kacchan are meant to mirror each other in any kind of significant way. Hana's apology to Tenko was under completely different circumstances than Kacchan's apology to Deku; I really don't see any connection between the two situations. you might as well be trying to compare Hana to Endeavor, or Deku, or Hawks, or Aizawa, or any other character who's apologized to anyone over the course of the story.
2. please pardon the forthcoming rant, anon -- and I hope you know that none of this is aimed at you in particular -- but for me personally, this whole obsession with ships becoming canon is one of the most exasperating types of discourse there is. like, don't get me wrong, I totally understand people wanting to see their favorite ships validated by the author, and not to mention there's also the issue of having more LGBTQ+ representation. but speaking as someone whose own orientation (aromantic) has almost no representation in fiction whatsoever, it gets frustrating to see so many people dismiss non-romantic relationships as being an inferior type of ship, to the extent that calling a relationship "sibling-like" is now a commonly-used attack in ship wars. so many people view romance as this completely transformative element, to the point where two characters can literally tick every other box on the intimate personal relationship checklist, and none of it will matter to some people unless they actually confess their love and kiss.
and again, I'm not saying I don't understand it, especially since queerbating is a thing. it's one thing if a writer is genuinely just trying to portray a close friendship, especially in series where romance isn't really a focus. but it's another thing entirely if a writer is deliberately hinting at a romance in a blatant bid to attract a larger queer audience, while all the while having no intention whatsoever of having those hints lead anywhere. the issue, I guess, is that it's not always easy to tell which scenarios are the former, and which are the latter. and of course, you also have people who think that the former is a type of cop-out as well, because the thing is that romance is always viewed as the default. so for a lot of people, allosexual and alloromantic relationships are the only ones that get considered as far as representation goes.
but you know what, I'm just gonna say it; even knowing where people are coming from, it's still discouraging to know that so many people are so dismissive of aro and ace relationships that the thought of a favorite ship not becoming romantic in canon is considered a profound disappointment. and it's even more discouraging that the thought of a rival ship becoming canon is considered such an existential threat to some that they will literally use "oh, they're just like siblings" as an argument against the ship, rather than a point in favor of. because siblings are a downgrade. friendship is a downgrade. any kind of close relationship that isn't inherently romantic or sexual in nature is less important, and that's just how it is.
so yeah, that's kind of a pet peeve, ngl. especially since the truth is I actually do think Bakugou and Deku's relationship is very akin to siblings. and so I do sometimes get weary of not being able to just outright say that without having to first pepper the statement with all kinds of disclaimers so that people don't think I'm invalidating the ship. I feel like I have to walk on eggshells if I ever want to talk about their relationship in terms that I can personally relate to.
but I mean, here's how I look at it. they've known each other since they were small children. they call each other exclusively (or almost exclusively) by childhood nicknames. they have an openness and an unspoken, almost taken-for-granted trust in each other to the point where they'll share closely guarded secrets ("I got my quirk from someone else") and personal vulnerabilities ("why was I the one who ended All Might?") with barely a second's hesitation which they would never share with anyone else. they have a comfortable little bickering type of rapport ("I'm getting stronger"; "well I'll just have to get even stronger then"; "you'll never surpass me"; "we'll see about that") which they can fall into with ease and which looks weird af to outsiders, but is "normal" to them and something they're both grateful to have.
they're so intimately familiar with each other's personality and behaviors that they can predict them with perfect accuracy. they're so in tune with each other that they can whip up elaborate coordinated attacks right on the spot in perfect sync. their admiration for each other is so strong that they each think of the other as being the epitome of winning and saving, respectively. their mental images of each other are so vivid that they subconsciously mimic each other's speech patterns whenever they start falling into a particularly strong Win or Save mindset themselves. they take no small amount of pride in showing off for each other. they go apeshit any time the other is in danger or hurt. and each of them would literally die for the other if it ever came to that.
all of that is already canon. on just about every metric imaginable except for "now kiss", the two of them already have a canon intimacy that rivals just about every other great relationship out there. and so to say that none of it actually counts unless there's an actual love confession involved frankly just boggles me. again, maybe it's because I have no personal vested interest in romance myself, though. I'm literally just not wired that way, and so I'm really not the best person to vent to when it comes to these kinds of concerns.
but look, no matter what happens from here on out, these two care about each other on a very deep and personal level. they're going to continue to be a part of each other's lives no matter what. and each of them, no matter what, will continue to occupy a space in each other's lives that no other person can fill, regardless of how we or Horikoshi or anyone else choose to label and define that space. and so in my book, that's already a win.
anyways, apologies again for the impromptu rant. again, this wasn't particularly directed at you in any way; if anything it's mostly just a generic response to the constant shipping discourse in this and every other fandom, and a more detailed explanation for why I personally don't like to get involved in it. this is just one of the myriad reasons why I try my best to stay very far away from BnHA twitter lol.
#bakugou katsuki#midoriya izuku#bakudeku#bnha meta#aspec#aromanticism#aromanticism in fiction#bakugou meta#deku meta#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha 322#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha#asks#anon asks#long post
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Hi! So I would like to request a Seb x reader one shot if you have the time ☺️ I just got diagnosed with Endometriosis today and am in need of some soft Seb... Could you write smth where Seb finds out that reader is always in pain during sex and never said anything, though he knows she has Endometriosis and usually cares for her during her period... and he then encourages her to get surgery to try and fix it? Only if it's okay though, I know it's very precise, sorry!
A/N; I am so sorry to hear about this hun, i hope there’s something that can be done, no one deserves to go through that kind of pain. I researched endometriosis and it certainly sounds horrible, I’m sending you all my love and support 💙
Endometriosis - Sebastian Stan x reader
Masterlist Link
Summary; based on the request, I changed it a tiny bit so I hope that’s okay, I just feel like if r was in pain seb would notice, I hope you like it hun 🤍
Warnings; endometriosis, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69ing, mentions of sex toys, illness, mention of alcohol, fluff, pain, swearing
divider by @firefly-graphics
It hurt like a bitch, there was no way to put it, or at least it was a simpler revelation of description at the prying of your womb had you near to tears. You laid your head down into the pillow, mushing it into the fabric, as you wanted the pain to dwindle down into nothing, and thus you tried to ignore your own suffering, as you turned over to be on your back, severely wincing by the change in position. A groan came from the other side of the bed, as the man that was laid there began to shuffle, in the midst of waking up.
“Morning.” He spoke with a hoarse voice, the steadiness obliterated by his blatant hangover that was haunting his form. Sebastian rubbed a hand over his eyes as he fully awoke, stretching his back as he reached his arm out, swiftly hooking it around the back of your neck as you allowed yourself to lay on the muscle. “Guess neither of us got laid, did we?” He laughed lightly, shaking his head, as he tipped his chin up, blinking his baby blues up to the ceiling.
“Considering that we’re in the same bed, and that you’re not a stranger to me, I guess not.” You laughed to your close friend, whom was aware of your condition, but not the extent of it. “Looks like you’re going to suffer from no morning sex Stan, I’m sure that sucks for you.”
“Usually it’s someone else doing the sucking.” You smacked his arm at his off handed comment, pulling a smirk out from the man as he turned to face you, pulling you closer by the contact that he had upon you. “I’m guessing your disappointed that you’re not waking up to some muscular, blonde haired and blue eyes patriotic punk.”
“If you’re describing Evans, i swear that I will punch you in the dick, I said he was attractive once.” You put emphasis on the amount of time(s) you had ever mentioned it. A pout quivered his lips, as he shuffled beneath the covers, angling his hips in a more comfortable position so that they weren’t being crunched down on the mattress.
“You can punch my dick, on the agreement that you kiss it better.” Seb allowed a hollow smirk to mull over his handsome features, as you swatted his bicep once more, an unhumored frown conforming its position upon your face.
“I’m not one of your hook ups, I’m not gonna get on my knees for you buddy.” You bantered back, raising a brow at his inquisition. No, you were not a past sexual partner of his; it was a constant of him never having a serious relationship, he opted for flings rather than any long engagements, you suspected that he had feelings for someone else, but you were not sure of whom.
The thought alone of him being endeared with the image of one woman brought a pain to your body, separate from your medical suffering. Though your opinion wasn’t fair, considering that you as well, or had your time of sleeping around before the pain in your inner walls became too much, and that was one of the many things that you had given up, more or less.
To support the montage of your body’s self torture, you had a mixture of hormone and tablets that helped reduce the unexplainable sensation that willed around in your lower half, swarming around like an internal snake bite in your own body.
“69 then?” He joked, but it felt so serious. You knew he wasn’t being truthful, it was the relationship the pair of you had, though his face had moved closer, his breath fanning over your face, making your heart prominently race as you thought about such a scenario. “Having mentioned Evans...” he began to change the conversation, having felt the heat that had radiated from your body.
“Go on.” You pried at him, interested in hearing what his friend had opted to say about the pair of you. It wasn't every day that you heard celebrities gossiping about you.
“He thinks we’ve hooked up.” Sebastian stated, making your neck reel slightly back as you took in the fact, of well, the perceived view point of a world renowned, household name, actor. A part of you was slightly embarrassed, you held your own cheek as the words that Chris had passed on sunk in on you.
“We, no, never. Okay, I’m exaggerating, that would not be so bad, but it would definitely be weird. But like, why does he think that, of all things?” You asked whilst partially laughing. It made you partially aware of yourself, and the prospect of you possibly having made your feelings obvious, but that however hadn’t been the case as Seb scratched over the stubble that he had on his chin, and did that awkward Bucky smile that had became humorous in his new marvel show.
“Of all things; it’s like you’re trying to break my heart babes.” With one diverging look from you, he knew he was done for. It always pained him to keep secrets from you, and this was the one that he had been hiding for so long. “You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you? Okay, fine. I still can’t believe that you haven’t caught on, after all this time, but this just shows that you haven’t noticed how I try and scare away every guy with my money and power.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.” Lightly you scoffed, having many memories of such a situation. It was a pattern that kept repeating itself, but to you it had just become normal, and to say you were fine with it was not incorrect. It gave you hope that he could reciprocate the emotions that you held towards him, though having a wish like that was altogether hopeless. He was just protective, that was all, he probably saw you like a little sister, or something of the sort, that really put a drab annotation on the prospect of romance.
“Ever wonder why?” Ever, more like all the time, but you allowed him to continue without disruption, by doing so more would be unveiled by that mouth of his, and you were eager to learn more, yet a little hesitant. “It is because I am so tired of being your friend, I love it, don’t get me wrong but...” you were dreading what was to come out of his mouth next, you squeezed your eyes shut, almost as if you were unable to see, the pain would not render upon your specimen. “I love you.”
“You what?!” Eyes snapping open, you were blatantly shocked by his confession. “That can’t be right Seb, you’re you, and I’m me, and-“
“We’re us.” He finished for you. As he noticed you relax from his contingence, which allowed him the time gap to slide closer, his warm and soft hand running up the side of your face as he watched you gasp from the sensation. It was not the first time he had touched your cheek, but it was the first instance in which he done so intimately; you were rather fond of the treatment.
You nuzzled your face into the curve of his hand, your brows lightly directed in a downwards motion as you lulled in his touch, and that was when you realised that he had frozen. “Shit.” You stopped him from moving away, pausing the sadness in his eyes for the current second. “I should have responded, that was my bad. I love you too, I’m not just saying that, so you know.”
“That’s a relief.” Sebastian sighed, falling back onto the mattress, bringing his face accidentally closer to your own. The tips of your noses were touching as your eyes ogled deep within the pools of one another’s, it was impossible not to seek a closer vicinity, and thus, you slunk closer, bracing the tips of your nails against his scruff, as your lips worked their way onto his.
“How would you like another kind of relief?” You pulled away, stroking down the smooth course of his shirt covered chest, prompting a suggestive dialogue in your tone. His brow raised as he thought about it for a moment, but then he remembered a rather distinctive matter he didn’t want to cause any obstruction to.
“What about your, you know?” He was referring to your endometriosis, having the knowledge about the unfortunate illness that interfered with your life. Through it all, the doctors appointments, the encouraging you to take your medication on days that you weren’t feeling particularly well, he was there. Now it made sense why.
To reply, you softly shook your head, combing your hands over his shoulders, as you answered him. “If it gets too much, I’ll give you the signal.” You spoke, leaning down to peck his lips, though you still saw the reluctance that was embedded on his forehead in the form of strict lines. “I promise.” You persuaded him, meaning the sentiment, as his eyes trailed down, his hand scourging a fierce, passionate grip upon your hipbone as his tongue weaved its way back into your mouth.
You moaned into the atmosphere of his mouth, grabbing onto his cheeks as you heaved breaths into the internal beyond of this man, rolling on top of him, as you swept your crotch down against his own, extracting a sinister sound out of his guttural throat. It was only turning you on more, and you knew that if you didn’t do something, even despite the recommendations of your doctor, you would be sufficed with a lack of pleasure, and that was all you currently craved.
It wasn’t fair how you had been dubbed with the condition. So many people in the world could have sex whenever they pleased, yet you were forced to commend under the sentence of experiencing a discomfort when all you wanted was the comfort of being intwined with another human being. That connection, it felt mandatory, however you were denied it, for every time that you proceeded to bed a stranger, or a partner of any sorts, the stretch of anything in your walls pursued you with a fracture of pain.
You’d even had to throw out your vibrator, whilst it felt good on the outside, the clenching of your empty walls sparked physical and mental hurt, and reminded you of the fact that whenever you were filled by any length, your body could not function to emit pleasure, instead it was the opposite that you were tasked with contracting. The thought and reminder often spewed tears in your eyes, but you held them back as you got lost in Sebastian.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He admitted sentimentally, and your heart both became full and broken. It was sweet and scorching to the arousal between your legs to know that he was that concerned about your well being; he wasn’t just prioritising getting his dick wet. He resumed pressing succulent kisses on your lips, he lulled in the notion, he too wanted to be close to you, but he wasn’t willing to do inadvertently so to the expense of you being in pain.
That was the opposite of what he wanted, even as your hand wandered down his firm and pheromone driven body, that bucked in your grip, as your hand hooked around his bulge, your thumb stroking over his round sack as he grew beneath the layers of his soft sweats and underwear. “69 then?” You reiterated his earlier words, causing his pupils to blow wide, and his blue irises to darken into the juxtaposition of stormy skies.
“Will that be okay?” You confirmed it was, even if you weren’t completely sure yourself. The angles, the penetration, it was all elements, that combined gave you an equation that you had yet to figure out. The only way to do so was to try it, even if it concluded in an error, and not a sensible answer. To instigate the next step, you roused your sleep shirt from your body, leaving you in nothing more than your causal panties, but Seb didn’t seem to mind.
In fact he rather preferred the normalcy of your actions and undress, it made the strategy of shifting from friends to intimate lovers into one of relaxation, there was no absurdity nor discomfort yet, for either one of you. Your fingers dipped in the sides of your underwear, teasing the band, as you cocked your head towards Seb, licking your lips as you took in the view of him entranced by your being. “Am I going to be the one naked or...”
You were grateful that he took the hint, and stripped himself from both layers that kept his goods confined. He rapidly removed them, leaving his uncut cock open to your gaze; it wasn’t anything massive which was a relief, but it for now, it was to be attained in the confinement of your mouth, rather than the realm of your cunt, so that slight stretch could await. As you thought of that, you reached your hand out, dancing your fingers lightly over his shaft.
Seb emitted a soft huff from his obtainable lips, he dragged you to be laying atop of him, as your thighs surrounded his length on either side, it was warm, and rested perfectly below your where your cunt was hovering. How you wished to just sink down on it and- “Turn around.” For a moment you took time to refrain your memory to perceive what you had said before. And then, whence your words caught up to you, it was simple to do so, especially with the motivation of what was going to happen.
As you spun around, to be facing his lower half and have your own above his mouth, you watched his cock twitch, as it rested heavily upon his abdomen. You could feel your nerves kick in; it was a substantial difference from anything that you had ever done together, from looking at the stars and watching cheesy movies, to sexual actions, it was quite the leap. But a welcome one, you had waited so long to acknowledge your feelings to him, you'd be damned if you were not going to act on them.
A shiver rippled up your spine as he paved a lick through your slit, it made you tense up for a moment, and you try to register any diagnosis of pain, you coiled when he put one of your lips in his mouth. It felt good, which was a relief, and you took that as a sign to reap your front forwards, and focus on his throbbing hardness that was oozing precum against his perfect skin. The drop of essence looked like liquid moonstone, catching the ambience of the snooping sun that eyes through the crescent opening of the closed curtains, creating a luminescent light against the contrast of his skin.
Leaning forwards, as the initial shock of Seb using his tongue on you had settled in, as a faint plea from inside of you derived away in your eternal being, your tongue glided over the patch of fallen precum, your eyes fluttering at the heavenly, yet rare taste, it wasn’t every day that a man’s cum was relatively nice on your buds. Some perceived eating junk food as a lifestyle, caring not for how the receiver of their sperm would taste within the mouth of a giver on the other end. Sebastian hummed against your slick folds, as he danced his hands around your ass, grasping your cheeks firmly.
His fingers swept through the outside of your cunt, fooling around with your labia as his tongue swirled your bud, making your face grimace on the edge of pleasure, as your warm lips wrapped around the head of his cock, whirling your tongue within his slit, as your hand rested around the rest of his length, jerking it in your grasp, as his hips lightly heaved upwards against your face. He teased a finger around your entrance, running the tip along the wet flesh that mimicked your breaths as it clenched prosperously.
“Shit!” Tears webbed in your eyes as he entered the finger, though he considered that a resonating profanity of pleasure. To your dismay, it indeed was not though, the entry of the digit weighed heavy inside you, prying sorely against your walls as your giving to him paused, as you harshly gripped his thigh. “Shit, that hurts Seb. Fuck!” In an instant, he stopped, extracting his finger out from within you, as it caused you further pain, and helped you turn around, and lay languidly upon the bed.
“Oh my god, fuck, I’m so sorry y/n/n.” He panicked, immense guilt wavering his body, as he grasped your face, staring with sorrow into your seasoned expression. “I didn’t mean to- didn’t want to hurt you, shit, I should never have tried to-“ soothing his conflicting emotions, you stroked his shoulders, kissing him to ease his words into silence. He felt guilty, but so did you, you were the one whom had encouraged to pursue the rhythm of your shared sexuality to one another, deducting the poise of your actions with tear beaded eyes.
“It was my fault; I said it would be fine. I should have known it shouldn’t have, I’m sorry.” You reasoned with him, knowing that you had told him that it was to be something that you could manage, but from experience, you should have had better knowledge of how things would turn out.
“Don’t you ever apologise, you’re perfect, the only thing that I want to ease is your suffering. Is there any news on the operation that can be done, should I get you your medication now?” He wanted to be certain, to ensure that you didn’t put the accountability of your situation completely on yourself, he should have asked if a finger would have been fine, he shouldn’t have been swayed by your persuasion. “I could talk to someone, see if I could get the thing moved up, I can pay for it, get you further up on the ladder.”
“No.” You smiled, pressing an ample kiss upon his scruffy cheek. “I don’t want that, many other people are waiting for the op too, and I can’t have you paying for it. That would just be inconsiderate of me, you have already done so much for me, I can’t ask more. You’ve been there through everything, just wait with me whilst I wait for myself.” You pulled the sheets over your breasts, staring opulently into his serene eyes, shuddering as he swept his lips over your mouth once more, deriving you breathless for a moment.
“It’s okay to be selfish, if any of them had that chance, then they would take it. I can afford it, and I would want nothing more than to pay for it, it’s not just about sex, you know that. I love you so so much, you’re my best friend, the girl of my dreams, I’ve waited for you, I just want the pain that you live through to disappear. Out of all people, it’s not fair that it’s you, but it is, and this is the one way to fix the reductive searing of hurt that you live through.” You gulped, water glazing your irises as you stared at her, trying to diffuse your light sob.
His words brought acceptance to you within the scenario, as you took a deep breath in, confronting the trigger that had set off inside of you. It was difficult to handle and attain to, as you curled in his bare arms, exasperating your soundness close to him, as he competently cupped your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Okay.” You agreed, nodding sincerely along with your words. “Okay, I’ll do it for me. It’s the right thing to do.” A smile raved his face, as you convinced yourself of doing so. It was to be a long road, but Sebastian would be there holding your hand, travelling down this path alongside you.
#sebastian stan smut#sebastian stan angst#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan fanfiction#sebastian stan fluff#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan fic#sebastian stan oneshot#sebastian stan fandom#sebastian smut#sebastian x y/n#sebastian x reader#sebastian stan reader#sebastian stan request#bucky barnes smut#seb fic#marvel actors x reader#mcu actor smut#mcu actors imagine#mcucastxreader#mcu cast imagine#mcu cast x you#marvel cast fanfiction#marvel cast x y/n#imagines#imagine#xreader#marvel x reader#marvel x y/n
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my someplace is here [AO3]
Five times Alec gay panics at a bus stop (ft. umbrellas, jackets, and a bus driver who really isn't paid enough for this).
rated: T
for @rainyhuman and @peachygos (ily!)
This is so cliché and over the top and I have absolutely no regrets <3. Sometimes (always) Alec is a himbo who is in love and his actions reflect this entirely. I don't control these things.
One.
Alec Lightwood doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but the man across the bus stop is absolutely gorgeous, and he’s twirling in the rain like a goddamn movie cliché, and Alec’s first thought is holy shit, so maybe Alec Lightwood is an idiot, and love at first sight is definitely a Thing.
Alec’s second thought is that the man is an absolute maniac— because really, the dude doesn’t even have a coat on— but Alec’s the one with an insane urge to kiss a stranger in the middle of the street, so, whatever; They’re probably both maniacs.
Alec’s third thought is that he’s about to miss his bus. Shit.
—
Two.
For the record, Alec does not usually walk into bus stop poles while staring at his phone, nor does he usually yell out “Ow, shit — !” if the aforementioned event does happen to occur. He does, however, end up doing both of these things at once a week later, and the stifled laughter behind him informs him that someone at the stop has definitely seen him, and he’s never going to live this down, ever.
“I’ve personally found that walking around an obstacle tends to be much more effective, darling,” the someone says, and Alec supposes that was called for, but hey, rude. He looks up to face the speaker, preparing himself to be offended, and—
Oh.
It’s the beautiful stranger from last time.
The man smirks at him from the bench, drenched again, and God, he’s even prettier up close. Brown eyes, smudged eyeliner, water trickling down his neck, with a tunic open down to his navel and pants that look painted on— Alec’s brain is short-circuiting.
“Hit your head a little hard there? Or do you just see something you like?”
��Huh?” Alec glances up from where he’s been staring at the man’s collarbones.
“I asked if you saw something you liked, pretty boy,” the man repeats.
Alec opens his mouth, presumably to say something that would be considered appropriate and normal in this situation, but he somehow misses his own memo and instead stammers out: “I, uh, I have an umbrella.”
He prays the rain will have mercy and just drown him on the spot.
The man’s brow quirks upwards in amusement. “Excuse me?”
Alec, unfortunately, is still alive, so he must now suffer the embarrassment he’s managed to cause himself and find a way to explain whatever has just come out of his mouth. He ducks his head, trying to avoid eye contact as he speaks. “If you want it,” he elaborates, “I have an umbrella I can give you.”
The stranger just looks at him for a moment. Alec’s sure he’s going to be told to fuck off (which would be a perfectly understandable reaction and probably have been his own in this situation) but after another second, the man defies all of his expectations and grins, so wide that it steals a little of Alec’s breath away.
“Handsome and chivalrous, I see. Do you make a habit of offering your belongings to strangers?” the guy asks. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll need it later. Perhaps you should rescind your offer, I promise I won’t harbor any grudges.”
“I have a coat,” Alec insists, “and you’re. . .” —incredibly attractive, doing things to my brain function— “more in need of its services.”
He’s not really sure why he’s so adamant about this, especially since the man is right: he will be needing the umbrella later, but his pride’s involved now, and he hasn’t really been thinking things through for the past ten minutes anyway. He might as well argue about his dumb umbrella with a beautiful man at a bus stop.
“I suppose you’re right,” comes the man’s response. He taps painted nails against his chin as he hums. “I’m not in much of a position to refuse, now, am I? Though, I doubt I’d refuse any position with you involved,” he winks. “But, yes, if you’re being serious, I shall gladly accept your umbrella.”
Alec blinks. He honestly did not think that argument would’ve worked. (He chooses to ignore the blatant innuendo to preserve his sanity for now.)
“Well?” the man prompts.
“Oh! Yeah, sure.” Really, the whole zoning-out-while-staring-at-the-hot-guy thing is going to become a problem very fast if Alec keeps doing it every two minutes. He gathers his thoughts enough to fumble with the umbrella in his hand and give it to the man, who accepts it with a graceful flourish.
“I’m Magnus Bane, by the way,” the man offers. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”
“I’m Alec. Lightwood. My name’s Alec Lightwood.”
Magnus holds out a ring-covered hand from where he’s sitting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alec. Short for Alexander, I presume?”
“Yeah,” Alec nods. He reaches out to shake Magnus’s hand, adding, “but no one really calls me that.”
Magnus’s smile turns into something incredibly flirty, and Alec can feel his cheeks heating up. “I like to be special, Alexander,” the other says, “and it suits you far better.”
Alec’s not really sure how to respond to that, because the way Magnus says his name is doing things to him, and that, combined with the fact that he’s still clutching Magnus’s soft hand in his own, is probably going to give him a heart attack. He’s about to say something decidedly stupid about Magnus already being special and perfect and amazing when the bus saves him from humiliation and pulls up next to them.
Alec releases Magnus’s grip to awkwardly gesture at the vehicle. “I should really. . . you know,” he trails off, and Magnus blinks at him for a second, surprised.
“Oh, right! You should get going, places to be and all that.” He waves his hand through the air dismissively. “I’ll return your umbrella to you next week, same time?”
Alec smiles dopily as he nods. “That sounds great.” He takes a step back. “I’ll see you soon, then?”
“Of course.” Magnus gives him a little wave. “It was lovely to meet you, Alexander. Safe travels.”
“Thanks, uh, you too.”
Having to walk home in the rain is so worth it.
—
Three.
Izzy laughs at Alec for the entire week when she finds out why his umbrella’s been missing, then makes it worse by telling Jace, who gives Alec an incredibly long-winded speech about umbrellas as metaphors for protection during sex or something. He also deigns to throw a condom at Alec’s face when he leaves to get the bus, which sends Izzy into another bout of cackling laughter.
They’re both assholes, and Alec is never going to cover for them at family dinners ever again.
So he’s scrolling through his phone at the bus stop, trying his best to ignore the increasingly obscene texts his siblings are sending him, when Magnus shows up, bright and beaming and decidedly dry this time, though he’s still not wearing a jacket despite the cold.
And dear lord. If Alec thought Magnus looked gorgeous while soaked in rainwater, this is something else entirely. Gold-streaked hair, unbuttoned shirt, immaculate matching eyeshadow— fuck.
“Alexander!” Magnus greets. He sits down beside Alec on the bench, and grins as he hands over Alec’s umbrella. “Finally a little dry, hm? Though I might’ve underestimated the cold and left my coat back home.”
“Yeah,” Alec says. “Not that you were wearing one when it was raining.” He’s trying his best not to stare at Magnus’s mouth, but the man is very close to Alec’s face right now, and he cannot be blamed if his gaze slips a few times, okay? He’s only human.
Magnus shrugs, drawing Alec’s sight to his shoulders instead. “Coats are irrelevant, anyway. I haven’t worn mine all week, so I might as well continue the trend,” he remarks, and Alec snorts.
“I don’t think that’s as impressive as you think it is. You sound like a petulant toddler. How have you not had, like, five colds by now?” he says. Magnus feigns a pout in response, and Alec stifles a laugh.
“Such cruelty, Alexander!” Magnus replies, “Ah, I suppose I’ll just have to suffer the elements until I’m finally back home again, since no one seems to harbor any sympathy for me. Woe is me, and all that.” He tightens his hands around his biceps, rubbing up and down to warm himself up while sighing dramatically, and Alec, well,
Alec gets a really stupid idea.
“Do you want my jacket?” he asks. “I won’t be out in the cold for that long, and I’m wearing a much warmer shirt than you are.”
Magnus’s lips part in surprise as something conflicted flashes behind his eyes. “I—” he starts, then clears his throat. “I wasn’t being serious, darling. That’s your jacket.”
“Is that a no?”
There’s a moment of silence before Magnus shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I, uh, I’d love that.”
Alec beams, and Magnus clears his throat again. “You’re horribly trusting of someone you’ve only met twice,” he says, voice a little strangled, but Alec just shrugs as he begins to wrestle the black fabric off of his shoulders.
“It’s just a jacket,” he explains, leaning closer to drape it over Magnus, “Even if I never got it back, at least you wouldn’t freeze to death on your way to wherever you’re headed.” He fixes the lapels dutifully, and smiles to himself. “Besides, you’ve already given me my umbrella. I trust you.”
“Is that so,” Magnus answers weakly, which prompts Alec to look up from his fiddling, and oh wow, their mouths are so close to each other’s.
If Magnus inches in just a little bit closer, then they’d—
They’d—
“Um!” Alec jerks backwards, face flushing, “Yes, uh,” he stammers, trying not to look overwhelmed. It’s not going great, because moving back means that he’s now being treated to the sight of Magnus in Alec’s jacket, and he’s having some issues thinking properly right now. It swallows Magnus’s wrists almost entirely and looks far too plain for his expensive printed shirt, but fuck. It’s possible that Alec didn’t think this through.
Magnus opens his mouth, hopefully to tell Alec to kiss him but also probably to tell him to fuck completely off for whatever move they almost pulled, but the bus suddenly turns the corner and pulls into view, cutting him off.
Alec’s not sure whether he’s relieved or furious about this.
“Next week, then,” he ventures. Magnus blinks at him slowly, then nods.
“Yes, of course,” he smiles softly. “Next week.”
—
Four.
“Remind me again, why your presence is necessary today?” Alec grits through his teeth, tightly gripping his umbrella as the rain pours down on them. Izzy punches his arm, not even looking up from her phone as she does so, where she is no doubt giving Jace a play-by-play of Alec’s every action as they walk towards the bus stop.
“Because I’m never one to miss out on good blackmail content,” she replies, which is true. She’s got about four folder’s worth of content of “embarrassing shit Alec has done” on her phone, most of it consisting of his painful attempts at being straight in high school, and Alec’s pretty sure she’s started a fifth, probably titled “Alec’s horrible attempts at flirting with men,” which isn’t that much better than the straight one. Alec is debating turning around and just walking to his destination so that his sister won’t be able to gain more content for her virtual blackmail folders, which is exactly when Magnus comes into Alec’s field of vision.
Alec freezes in his tracks. Holy shit.
Magnus is standing in the center of the street again, drenched from head to toe with his head thrown back . The streetlights illuminate him from above, highlighting the curve of his neck and the colored streaks in his hair as he laughs to himself, staring up at the stars.
He looks ethereal. Alec’s never been one for the romantics, but he’s pretty sure this is what poets mean when they talk about true love and angels and immortal moments in time.
“Oh, he’s hot,” Izzy whispers approvingly. Alec agrees, because, obviously, but he pretends he’s unaffected and straightens his face.
“He’s probably freezing,” he says instead. Izzy rolls her eyes— she gets that from him, he really should stop doing that— and then, before Alec can stop her, calls out.
“Hey! Hot Umbrella Guy!”
What the fuck.
“Are you insane?” Alec hisses. He was trying to look nonchalant and not like the totally lovestruck idiot he is, but now Izzy is waving at Magnus like a maniac and Magnus has noticed them and is walking towards them and Alec is going to die. He’s going to write Izzy out of his will and then he is going to collapse into a heap of embarrassment and gay panic right here, and it’s going to be his sister’s fault.
“Relax a little, hermano,” Izzy replies, and before Alec can provide her with an alphabetized list for every reason he cannot relax, Magnus is already standing before them, smiling as water trickles from his hair.
God, he’s beautiful.
“Hello, hello!” he greets. Alec suddenly notices that Magnus is wearing Alec’s jacket, which is, well. Something. (Izzy is never going to let him live this down, and also Alec is having a very hard time thinking any thoughts.)
Magnus seems to notice Alec’s wandering line of sight, following it and glancing down, eyes widening. “Oh my god, I was fully intending to return this to you, I’m so sorry. I got a little distracted. I’ll have it cleaned and returned to you next time, I promise,” he explains. Alec shakes his head.
“No worries,” he manages, cutting himself off before he says something even stupider like “it’s yours forever” or “marry me” or something, and Izzy snorts from beside him. Alec hates her.
“Thank you,” Magnus says, then turns to face Izzy, “And what may I call you, dear?”
“I like him,” Izzy declares, in what Alec assumes is meant to be a reassuring whisper but instead ends up being incredibly loud, “I’m Izzy, Alec’s sister. And I assume you’re the elusive Magnus I’ve heard so much about?”
“Izzy,” Alec warns. Magnus smirks and shakes her hand.
“The one and only,” he confirms. There’s a mischievous sort of glint in his eye as he glances back up at Alec, and Alec’s not sure how he feels about Magnus and his sister already getting along so well, but he’s sure it can’t lead anywhere good.
“Well, Isabelle,” Magnus says, “If I asked him, do you think your brother would join me for a dance?”
Alec chokes. “What?” he splutters. Magnus turns his grin to face him.
“If I asked, Alexander, would you join me for a dance?”
“I—” Alec starts, staring down at the hand Magnus has outstretched in front of him. There are so many reasons he should say no, and so many reasons this is a bad idea, but also the most beautiful man Alec has ever seen is holding his hand out for him to take, and what else is he supposed to do? “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”
The first thing Alec notices is how soft Magnus’s hand is in his as he pulls him out into the rain, laughing as it hits his face again, and Alec can’t help but laugh along even as water soaks into his shoes and drenches into his socks. There’s something so childish about it; giggling and spinning in an empty street without any music, holding hands like toddlers, and Alec wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You’re thinking too much,” Magnus murmurs, then he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “It’s about being in the moment.”
Alec smiles. If only he knew, all he’s thinking about is this moment: how the water catches in Magnus’s lashes, how he’s humming something entirely off-key under his breath, the way he presses against Alec’s chest. Fuck. Alec’s known this man for three days, and he’s halfway in love already.
He closes his eyes against the rain, too, and smiles at the thought: loving a man like Magnus Bane.
Yeah, he could get used to that.
—
Five.
When Alec reaches the bus stop today, Magnus is nowhere to be seen and Alec’s jacket is sitting in a bag at the bus stop with a little post it signed with the letter “M.”
It’s fine, Alec tells himself. Magnus is probably just busy with something else, and this has nothing to do with the fact that Alec froze up awkwardly when Magnus kissed him on the cheek last week, to the point where Magnus had to nervously laugh it off because Alec was too busy panicking.
It’s a flimsy argument, but it keeps Alec from losing his mind for about fifteen minutes until the bus pulls up early and Alec realizes that this is it. He’s not going to see Magnus this week— maybe not ever again, if Magnus has decided that Alec’s gay panic is not worth his time, and Alec wouldn’t even blame him.
God, he feels so stupid. If he hadn’t acted like a complete idiot last time, then he would’ve at least had some closure.
“Sir, are you getting on or are you waiting for another bus?”
Alec blinks, glancing up to see the bus driver raising her eyebrow at him. “Right, sorry, give me just a mo—”
“Alec!”
It can’t be.
“Alexander!”
Alec spins on his heel, turning to face whoever called his name, and oh my god, it’s Magnus. He’s running up to the bus stop, waving frantically, and Alec is overcome with such a large wave of relief that he forgets that the bus driver’s been waiting for him for like five minutes now and he climbs off and runs towards Magnus, only vaguely registering the sound of the bus leaving without him. He doesn’t even care; Magnus is standing right in front of him, panting heavily but still so beautiful and perfect, and Alec would walk home everyday if he got to see Magnus because of it.
“Alexander,” Magnus huffs, gathering his breath. He absentmindedly reaches out to grab Alec’s shoulder, and Alec immediately wraps his arms around his waist to stabilize him. “Oh lord, one second, I ran all the way here.”
“I thought you were gone,” Alec says, still holding onto him. “You left the jacket and I thought—” he trails off.
Magnus frowns. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I thought I’d made you uncomfortable last week and didn’t want to make it worse, but I didn’t realize how rude not showing up would be. I know you probably don’t feel the same way but perhaps we can still be friends? I can be completely professional about it, though you seem to have just missed your bus—”
Alec grabs Magnus’s tunic (because he’s still not wearing a jacket, Jesus Christ) and kisses him.
Magnus blinks at him when they pull away. “Oh,” he says, a little breathless, and Alec smiles.
“I don’t want to be professional about it,” he admits.
“Oh. . .”
Magnus still seems shell-shocked, so Alec makes a move to let go of him, shifting his arm away from Magnus’s waist, but then Magnus leans back in and presses his mouth back to Alec’s and oh, nevermind then.
Alec’s not sure how long they spend there, kissing like handsy teenagers under the roof of the bus stop, but he’s aware of a few cars passing (and possibly another bus), so he’s not ignorant of the fact that it’s definitely been a while when they finally pull away for more than a second. Magnus is staring at his mouth when they part, though, which is not helping Alec’s resolve to actually have a conversation about this.
“We should talk,” he manages, and Magnus nods, still staring at his mouth.
“Right,” he agrees. “That would be a wise course of action.” His eyes flick upwards for just a moment, and something flickers behind them before he beams. “My place is two stops away, if you’d like to talk there. Perhaps we can wait for the next bus together, since we seemed to have missed the one I usually take? It might take a while, though.”
Ah. Alec swallows back a grin of his own. “Of course,” he replies, “I don’t suppose you know any way to keep us busy till then?”
“I’m sure I could think of something.”
(The bus comes late, and they still somehow almost miss it. Alec refuses to take any blame for this.)
—
+ One.
Alec Lightwood didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the man standing at the bus stop is smiling softly at him as he approaches, twirling an umbrella between his hands as he waits, and Alec’s first thought is holy shit, so maybe Alec Lightwood was an idiot, because what else could it have been?
“Hello, stranger,” the man says when Alec finally reaches the stop. He glances down, taking in Alec’s rain-soaked button down and slacks, and grins. “Forget your umbrella back home?”
Alec laughs. “My coat, too,” he agrees. “I got distracted this morning.”
Magnus hums, leaning in to kiss the rain off of Alec’s mouth, and Alec smiles into it, tasting the faint wax of lipstick and the salt of the rain. “Must’ve been a pretty good distraction.”
“Yeah,” Alec says. He leans in again, because he can. They have time. “He is.”
Magnus’s lips have got a lovely little tilt to them by the time they pull away, tint slightly smudged from Alec’s attention, and he’s never looked more beautiful, even with the dingy lighting of the shitty bus stop they’re standing under.
God, Alec loves him. He feels a little stupid with the feeling, and he can’t help but step back out onto the rain, holding out his hand.
“Hey,” he murmurs. Magnus’s eyes light up with understanding. “Care to join me for a dance?” And sure, Alec’s shit at dancing, and sure, they have to get on the bus sopping wet minutes later, but they’re both giggling like idiots and clutching the umbrella together between their intertwined hands and Alec’s got a little ring box in his pocket just waiting for the right moment, so what else matters?
They’ll probably have to invite the bus driver to the wedding, though. It’s only fair.
#my writing#malec#malec fic#magnus bane#alec lightwood#i totally forgot to post this here but its fineeeee#also if ur that anon that @'d me ab the phrase gay panic im literally gay <3 thank u
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The Business II: Sorry Mama
A/N: Sorry, I promised this Monday! But here it is! It is a little lengthy, but I think it’s worth it. Taglist here. Reqs are open! Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!
Warnings: Smut, daddy kink, a little pettiness -
Part I
Colson Baker Masterlist
Song Inspo: Sorry Mama, Phem and Machine Gun Kelly
His home made you feel as if your tiny loft apartment above the record store was a fuck up. You didn’t even have a front door in Colorado, and here you were being presented a room bigger than your entire apartment. You sat comfortably on the bed, trying to escape a reality that was smacking you in the face.
“Interview at the radio station in the morning.” You had out your planner jotting down the long list of his upcoming events and practices. “Shit, he’s going to Cleveland next week.” Did you even have your license? Were you able to fly?
“Busy?” He knocked on the open bedroom door and then leaned his tall body against the door frame.
“Uhm, just making a schedule for the next few days.”
“Are you always awkward as hell?”
You scoffed. “Are you always abrasive?”
“Abrasive, no. Honest, generally yes. I’ve been trying to get you alone for two days.”
“I didn’t know.” You lied. His attempts were blatant; he’d bought you coffee every morning, granted you were his assistant, and he’d attempted conversations with you but him being your boss made it hard to define the lines in whatever you two were doing. “What are you trying to get me alone for?”
“To talk,” Colson walked into your room. “How are you liking it?”
“It’s pretty busy; you travel a lot.”
He chuckled. “Yep, all the time. Are you regretting it?”
“No,” you answered. “You?”
“Nah, I mean, you haven’t gotten me coffee or like done anything yet, but I think you’re cool.”
Your mouth dropped, and he burst into laughter. “Can I do anything for you today, Mr. Baker?”
“For me, no. I’m great. But you can come out of this room and go a few places.”
“My wardrobe is shitty. I’ve washed this outfit three times. And it’s not even mine.”
“It’s clear it’s mine,” he laughed again. “Let’s get you some clothes.”
“I’m gonna pay you back.”
“No, the fuck you’re not, meet me downstairs. And you gotta wear your own shoes, you can’t fit mine. I’m like certain you don’t have big feet.”
He disappeared, leaving you in the bedroom by your lonesome. You had been sheltered the past three days, not talking to anyone but Kara, who had nothing good to say. And at this point, it didn’t matter. You just wanted her to stop calling you; she’d left you drunk with a bus full of men and said good luck.
The phone rang again and again; you answered, this time perching it on your shoulder. “Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
“Do I sound distraught to you?”
“You don’t have to be a smart ass! You quit your job. You haven’t come home. I was worried.”
“I’ve got a new job; I’m good. Thanks.”
“Being a whore?” She scoffed. “What’s the job?”
“None of your god damn business, you smart-ass arrogant bitch.” The call ended, and the eyes of Rook landed on you. “What?”
“You okay?”
“Oh, I’m better than fine.” You growled. Perhaps you shouldn’t take your anger out on him, but you did. “Can you move?”
“Certainly.” He smirked.
He moved out of the way, and you headed down the stairs; Colson awaited keys in hand and a smile on his face. “Assistant?”
“Colson.”
“Yeah?”
“Are we leaving?”
“Yeah.” He opened the door for you and waited for you to go first. You lead the way staring at the array of vehicles in the driveway.
The store didn’t have everything that you wanted, but you were impressed it offered more than what you expected.” You looked at the black dress, slinkily hanging from the manikin. The satin would hug your curves, but it wouldn’t put them out for everyone to see. You liked it. You touched the soft fabric and then picked it up.
“If you get that dress, you gotta wear it home.” He said from behind you.
“Why is that” You two had not addressed the elephant in the room. You’d rode this man for hours straight and would do it again if he looked at you a certain way. But he was now your boss; there were lines to not cross in business. This was an apparent line that should not be crossed.
“I want my clothes back.” He said with a crooked smile. “So you either wear that or go naked?” Colson shrugged and looked in the body-length mirror in front of him. “You can decide; I think U might win either way.”
“What’s the prize that you win?”
“I don’t know exactly; you've been quiet as hell ever since you got off the tour bus.”
“I don’t remember how we met.” You admitted.
“You remember nothing?” He cocked a brow. Colson looked at you through the mirror; his face is stoic and unmoving. “You were that fucked up?”
“I’m not a good girl.” You answered. “I figured you knew that.”
“I don’t like good girls, so perfect.” He turned to face you and bit his lip. “You really remember nothing?”
“Is it worth remembering?” You teased.
“I’ll give you a refresher.” Colson pointed to the dress. “Put that on.”
“I’ll don’t think I want it anymore.” You brushed past him and looked up. “I’ll find something I like Colson, you just chill. Isn’t that what you told me you were here for? Just to chill.”
“You’re right; take your time.” Colson gave in quickly with a slight nod, and he moved to the men’s part of the store, not paying you any attention.
You were not a good girl; that made telling him no easy. So if you wanted to fuck him, you could fuck him. But, unfortunately, this was not the time; you barely remembered how this all started. Had it not been for the video footage, you’d be fucked. The feelings were all there, you blushed every time he cracked a smile, and yet you stood in a mental chamber confused about what to do.
You picked up a few items and headed into the changing rooms. They were huge, not like the department storerooms you were accustomed to; there was a mirror and a chair. You hung threw your clothes over the door and picked up the first dress. It was bright yellow, not really what an assistant should wear. You didn’t care. You slid it over your hips, jumping once to get over your ass, and then looked in the mirror. Yellow always looked good on you. You shook your head yes and smiled. Shit…, you were beautiful, hair pulled a messy ass bun and glasses on the tip of your noses, and you were the baddest bitch you’d ever seen in your eyes.
It was a yes for the yellow dress. You tossed it over the door creating a mental yes pile for yourself. It took you about ten minutes to try on every dress. Three yes and two no, it worked for you. Maybe he would find a normal store so you could have leggings; there was no way in hell you were wearing dresses the entire gig. You shimmied out of the last dress and tossed it over the door, and it disappeared, snatched down the moment it hit the door. Then you realized… no clothes were hanging there. Every piece you’d draped over was gone. You stood with your panties in bra with a dropped mouth. The awe was real; he got you. The sneaky man fucking left you helpless.
“Colson!”
“What’s up?” He asked innocently.
“Where the fuck are my clothes?”
“Oh, my clothes? They are in the car.”
“Oh my god! You asshole. Give me my clothes.” Your heart dropped as you heard his laughter, and then you joined him. “This is not how you fuck me again.”
“It is, however, how I get you to try this dress on for me.” He hung the black dress over the door. “Please?”
“Fine!”
“Thank you, Y/N. You are so difficult.”
“Mark my words, you sneaky little bastard.”
“Little?”
You snickered. “Big sneaky cocky bastard.”
“Better,” Colson said. “What words am I marking?”
“If you get this pussy… it won’t be today.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes.” You took the dress from him and started to get dressed. He somehow guessed your size appropriately, and you didn’t even care; you were impressed. The dress felt as good as you imagined earlier. It fit you right, hitting a few inches above your knee, accentuated your ass, and making your breast pop. This was a club dress for sure, but here you were, walking out the dressing room with it. Colson awaited you in the front of the store, bags in his hand and a wicked smile on his face. “You like it?”
“Fucking love it.” He shook his head and pointed to the clerk. “She’s fine as fuck, right.”
The woman blushed and pulled her hair behind her ear. “It looks good on you!” She beamed.
“Don’t lie; she’s fine as hell.” He walked over to you, draping his long arm around your shoulders. “You like it?”
“I do.”
“Road trip.” He took your hand in his and pushed the front door open to the store, and lead you out. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Good, I could eat too.” The edged sentence hit your pussy immediately, but he just kept walking to the car, ignoring the few people who recognized who he was and opened the door for you. They kept their distance, but the vultures were out and clicking their cameras.
Colson hopped into the car and pointed to your seatbelt. “Buckle up.”
“You're not worried about them?”
“Who?”
“The paparazzi”
“Oh, Nah, they got a job to do. Let them do it.” He shrugged.
“They’ll know about me.”
“Don’t worry about that.” He merged into traffic and sighed. “They’ll know you’re my assistant tomorrow at the interview.”
“Right!” You exhaled. Small reality check, you swallowed and looked into the bag. “You have a busy tomorrow lined up, you know that?”
“I do; you do too.”
“Are you sure about having me as your assistant? I can go home; you don’t have to keep being nice to me because a groupie made it back to Cali with you.”
“Nah, you act like you don’t even like me.” He shot you a loo a sped the car up, “You got nothing to worry about, right?”
“That’s right.”
He got food for the both of you, but he didn’t head back to his place. Instead, you were outside of the city driving up the hills of California; you’d always wanted to come here, so you took in the scenery while mentally going over the schedule again for tomorrow. Colson's hand rested on your thigh, the calloused pads of his fingers stroked playfully up and down your legs. You liked the feeling. It had been a while since you’d felt some guitarist hands on your body. Apparently, he played it more than you gave him credit. He gripped you occasionally and dug into your flesh. Sensual act for someone who had a new girl every three days.
“You’re from Colorado,” He asked as the car slowed at the top of the hill. The plateau gave a good view of the city that thrived a few miles over.
“No, I’m actually from Texas, but I left when I was twenty. My parents were hella strict.” You peeked into the bag of food and grabbed one of his fries.
“Colorado served you well.”
“I just moved there, I went to New York, got a really good job, lost it, and then moved to Colorado with my mom and her new husband. I hate it.”
“Well, good you don’t live there anymore.” Colson parked the car, let his seat back, and took the bag from you.
“You say th-,” Your phone rang. Your mother’s face flashed before you, and you rolled your eyes. “Give me a moment.”
Parents were needed; you knew this, but your mother had criticisms, and if you knew Kara, she’d called your mom to tell her about the last few days. No, you had not answered her calls, and you didn’t intend to deal with it now, but if you knew your mother correctly, she was two seconds from declaring you are missing.
“Hello.” You answered the Facetime call, and your mother did not look impressed, just worried.
“Y/N.” She shook her head. “Where are you? Did you quit your job? Haven’t you been home in days? Are you okay?’
“I am fine.” You shook your head. “I have a new job now, and I will be home soon. I promise.”
“With that, whatever the fuck he is?” She stared at you.
Colson leaned in the frame, “Performer. Hey Miss Y/L/N.”
“I am married now; that’s not my name.” She cut daggers into him. “Walk away from him; I would like to talk to you alone.”
You sighed, “Be back.” You stepped out of the car and walked a few steps from him. You hoped he wouldn’t hear your mom act a complete ass on the line, but she was about to be loud. “Mom.”
“Don’t fucking mom me,” She hissed. “Don’t do this,” She paused. “Come home, now. Tell that tug to give you a ride, and maybe they’ll hire you back at the gas station.”
“You really think your daughter is only worthy of a gas station?” Colson appeared behind you.
“Give me a second.”
“Hang up on her.” He shrugged. “Conversation was over before it started; she didn’t give you a chance to explain anything. She just assumed you were out whoring?” He raised his brow at you. “Conversation was done five seconds ago; hang up.”
“Tell that boy to stay out of this,” She added.
“Mom, I got a job as his assistant.”
“A whore?”
“Okay,” You tried to block her assumption ut. “I will call you back later.”
“Yeah, away from him.” She ended the call.
“You know how to make shit worst!” You stared at him.
“Or better. Fuck her, fuck that little ass gas station. Fuck her calling you a whore.” Colson took your hand and spun you around once; the move resembled dancing. You felt like you were floating; he twirled you back to your chest.
“I didn’t know you were this sweet.” You said, looking up at him.
“I have my moments.” He admitted. He swayed with you. “They’re not as rare as people think.” Colson sighed and lifted you from the ground easily. Your feet dangled as he walked you back to the car and placed you on the hood. “I think this is going to be good for you, so don’t worry about the shit that’s going on back home; this is a good thing.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I keep meaning that shit too.” He stood in front of you and lifted your chin. “You really don’t remember that fucking kiss.”
“Which one,” You smiled.
“This one,” Colson’s lips met yours, and your breath disappeared as did the need to breathe, and you didn’t instantly remember, but the butterflies were familiar. He cradled your head to give him more access; his tongue dipped into your mouth and met yours. You moaned, tasting him, and fought the urge to wrap your arms around him and moving this along faster.
You pushed him back a little and took a quick breath. “It was that good?”
“Um, that was better.” His face turned a shade of red. “Fuck.”
You two met again, this time with no intention of stopping. Colson’s long fingers moved up the line of your thighs, pulling the soft fabric with it; you raised your ass from the hood of the car and unbuckled his belt. “What’re you gonna do to me?” You whispered.
“Make you forget who you are,” He whispered.
Were you going to fuck him on the hood of his car? Absolutely. You tugged at the seam of his boxers, tugging on the elastic, and he pulled them down enough for him to spring out from them. Eagerly you stroked him from hilt to tip, and he pushed you back on the hood of the car, fuck warming you up… you were wet enough. He gripped your thighs, pushing them open and running his fingers down the slit of your pussy before he slammed into you.
The sun had started to set, but if anyone wanted a show of you getting fucked they had it, legs open and back arched from the car. He suppressed a growl fucking you slowly. He took pleasure in watching your face contort each time his length went into you. “You’re perfect.”Colson’s tone dropped to a whisper, but that fucking whisper was enough. You wanted to sit up and ride the fuck out of him.
He hit deep, the curve of his cock hitting the right time you bucked against him, spasming, and he’d only been in yu a few minutes. “How many are you gonna give me today?” Colson asked.
“How many do you want?” You rested on your elbows and gave him a smile.
“Everything you fucking got.” He slid out of you and pulled you closer to him, kissing you before he turned you around and bent you over the car and slapped the round globes of your ass. Colson played for a second, slipping one finger into you and then another. You mewled, wiggling your ass against his war cock, coaxing him to slide into you. He played into it, rubbing the head of his cock across your entrance and then sliding back into you.
Your teeth clamped onto your bottom lip, and you were flushed, relishing his movements. He pushed into you, rounding his and pulling you back onto him. “Look at that pretty pussy.” He hovered over you. “How she’s fucking shaking for me; I think she remembers who daddy is… Let me see if I can make you.”
Was that a challenge? His hand traveled down your back to the line of your ass, and he pushed a finger into you while he continued to fuck you. His pace left you winded, but the feel of the pressure of him being in both had you elated. “Fu-,” You bit your tongue.
“Y/N.” He sung and then slammed into you once more. His finger curved, and you screamed. “Say it for me, call me daddy.”
“Daddy, don’t stop.” You all but sang, and Colson reacted accordingly, making his fingers move expertly to apply just enough pressure, and his cock hit just the right angle. Of course, you fell apart under him, but he didn’t stop, nor did you want him to. You could handle this if this is what he wanted from you.
The thought of him stopping hadn’t crossed his mind; he was too enchanted in watching your ass bounce on him and feeling the shockwaves of the orgasm flow through your pussy onto his cock.
The evening passed seamlessly; you had worked up an appetite, so you ate, talking about tomorrow, and he drove back to the house. The house was quieter than usual, TVs could be heard, but everyone had separated. “Get some sleep.” He said, opening the front door for you. “we got a busy ass day tomorrow.”
“Will do, good-,” Colson’s lips met yours once more. “Night.”
“Night.” He took the bags from you. “See you tomorrow.”
Your mind raced as you walked up the steps to your room. This was going to be more difficult than you intended, fuck blurred lines--- you could barely see straight.
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#machine gun kelly#mgk x reader#mgk x black!reader#colson baker#colson baker x reader#colson baker x black reader#laketa j writes
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Can I please request where Robby is trying to decide if he’s just friends or in love with the reader and he decides they’re just friends. And then they all go to a formal event and she shows up all dressed up and Robby is just like “nope, definitely not just friends, definitely in love” and he spends the night being jealous and longing before he finally confesses and they kiss??
Friends or More? - Robby Keene
Name/pronouns used - none, She/Her
A/N - I am in love with this request, I’m sorry I spent more time on the build up. My bad xx
Warnings - None
Word Count - 1710
You and Robby had been friends ever since he had joined Miyagi Do. You were friends with Sam beforehand, and so when Mr Larusso wanted someone to teach Karate, you were the first to volunteer.
Both of you started getting closer as training continued. Truth be told, you got along like a house on fire, always looking out for each other, in training, and out. At this point, you were practically best friends.
However, Robby wasn’t sure if he felt something more, and to be honest, you weren’t either.
**********
The annual Country Club Holidays Party was today, and You, Sam, and Robby had been invited by Mr Larusso to attend. You were looking forward to it, as you had never really been to a formal event before.
You and Robby were sitting underneath the tree at Miyagi Do, and the Holidays Party came up in discussion. “Robby come on, it’s not gonna be that bad,”
“That’s easy for you to say. The last time you were in that club, you didn’t almost get kicked out, and have your ass beaten,” he said, referencing the last time you were there in the summer.
“Okay that’s true, but your Mr Larusso’s guest, so if anyone has a problem, they have to take it up with him,” you reasoned.
“Okay, I guess you’re right,” Robby smiled.
“Yeah. Hey, do you know what your gonna wear?” you asked.
“Basically just a nice shirt and pants. I’m not really a suit guy,” he said, “What about you?”
“Dress and heals,” you said shrugging, “I didn’t really know what else to wear,”
“I didn’t either,” Robby chuckled.
“First time going to a formal party?” you asked.
“Yeah. first time for you too?”
“Oh, no I’ve been going to these since I was little,” you said, with blatant sarcasm, “I once went to the Mayor’s birthday party, and they personally complimented my social skills,”
“Wow, that must’ve been such an honour,” Robby said, going along with the joke. It was common knowledge that you weren’t the best in social situations.
“It really was. I’ve been invited every year since, but now they’re just too casual for me,” you put on a false posh tone, “I prefer the high end state formal dinners. Its much more up my alleyway,”
You both laughed, “So, that’s a no?” Robby questioned.
”Yes Robby. That is a no,” you replied, smiling.
“Hey Y/N!” Sam’s voice made you both look around, “You ready?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” you said, as she walked back to her car.
“Ready for...?” Robby asked, slightly confused.
“Sam and I are gonna get ready together, y’know makeup, and hair. That type of thing,” you explained.
“Ok, ok. I’ll see you later then,” He said.
You gave him a hug, “Yeah, I’ll see you later,”
You walked out of the dojo, and got into Sam’s car. “So, you and Robby huh?” Sam said, wiggling her eyebrows at you.
“Shut up Sam. We’re just friends,” you told her.
“Friends that like each other maybe,” she said, which made you give her a look, “I’m just stating the facts,”
**********
“Hey, Y/N should I do my eyeshadow natural?” Sam asked, turning to look at you from her vanity.
“Umm...yes,” you replied.
“So...” Sam started, “...do you like Robby?” she asked, patting her first shade onto her lid.
“What? No, why would you think that?” you said, hoping that she would believe your lie.
“Y/N, come on! I see the way you look at him, and that is not the look of friendship,” she remarked.
You sighed in defeat, “Okay, maybe I do like him a little, but he probably doesn’t like me back, so-”
Sam cut you off, “Are you kidding? He totally does. Trust me,”
You didn’t believe her, but don’t argue with her. Its practically impossible to argue with Sam anyway.
The two of you continued to get ready, helping each other pick out shades of lipstick and eyeshadow, and giving advice on what do do with your hair.
You were both just about ready when Mr Larusso knocked on Sam’s bedroom door. “Girls are you two ready?” he shouted through the door.
“Yeah, dad! We’ll be out in a second!” Sam yelled back, before turning to you, “Are you ready for your first Country Club Holiday Party?”
“Yeah, as ready as I can be I guess,” you replied, before asking, “Everyone that’s gonna be there isn’t like super formal right? I know I probably should’ve asked this earlier,”
“No it’s barely formal. The most formal thing about it is how it looks. Trust me the people are all normal. You have nothing to worry about,” she replied.
“Okay, good. Shall we?” you asked in mock formality, raising your arm for Sam to link.
“We shall,” she said, linking her arm. The two of you strode out of the door, and down the stairs, before the four of you piled into the car. Anthony - Sam’s brother - had been left with his grandma, as he was too young to attend.
**********
Mrs Larusso had attempted small talk while in the car, saying mundane things like ‘Are you excited’ and ‘I’m so glad that you could join us today’. Which didn’t really lead anywhere, but you appreciated it all the same.
When you walked in, you were in awe at the sight around you. Sam wasn’t kidding when she said it looks formal. Christmas trees sat in every corner of the rooms, fairy lights were strung up on the walls, and roses sat in the centre of every circular table.
“Wow,” you muttered under your breath.
“They really outdid themselves this year,” Mrs Larusso said, impressed, “Okay, you two girls can go off, do your own thing. If you need anything just text or come find me alright?” you nodded, and walked off, “No drinking!” she called after you.
“Hey Sam,” you said, “I’m gonna go talk to Aisha,”
“Okay Y/N. I’m going to go and get a drink, do you want anything?”
“no thanks, I’m good,” you said, and went over to Aisha.
Sam found the bar, and got herself a glass of water. She looked around, and saw Robby walk in, looking a bit out of place. She decided to walk over to him.
“Hey Robby,” she said as she approached, “You look nice,” referencing the black button-up shirt and dress pants he was wearing
“Thanks, so do you,” he replied, smiling at Sam, before scanning his eyes around the large room.
“Are you looking for Y/N?” Sam asked with a knowing look on her face.
“Don’t give me that face,” Robby said looking back over at Sam.
“I’m not giving you a face. She’s over in the corner with Aisha, just in case you wanted to know,” she told him, nodding over in your direction.
“Wow,” he said, as he laid his eyes on you. You looked stunning, your makeup was perfect, your hair was styled just so, and your dress compliment you perfectly.
“She looks good right?” Sam said, noticing Robby’s stare.
“Yeah, she looks amazing,” he smiled.
“Ok, don’t start drooling yet. Go up and talk to her,”
“What? No. Look, she’s with Aisha at the moment, and she’s having fun, and I don’t want to interrupt her,” he stumbled through his words.
“So are you gonna just stare at her all night, and not talk to her?”
“No, come on Sam,”
“Robby, just talk to her, she’s your friend,”
“I will talk to her, alright?” he said. You were his friend, that was correct, but now he was seeing you as more than that. In fact, he had for a while, he was just realising it now.
“You like her don’t you?” Sam mentioned, glancing over at you.
“Yeah, I do,” Robby admitted. He was finally able to say it.
“Well, she definitely likes you too,”
“Really? How do you know?”
“Well, one: its obvious, and two: she told me,” she told him, “so, what are you waiting for? Go talk to her!”
“I will later. I promise,” Robby wasn’t quite ready to tell you just yet.
“You better,”
**********
Robby had spent most of the night by himself, occasionally talking to people that came his way. He was sending death glares to the guy that was talking to you.
This was it, he was gonna do it. “Hey, Y/N!” Robby said as he approached you.
“Hey Robby, I haven’t seen you all night, where have you been?” you answered,
“Oh y’know, just around. can I talk to you, in private? Please?” he asked.
“Yeah sure. See you later,” you said to the guy.
Robby lead you outside, and turned to face you, “What did you want to talk about?” you asked.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said.
“Thank you, you look amazing too,” you replied.
“Thanks,” he smiled, “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes, of course,”
Robby heart began to beat faster, “Okay, um. Y/N I really like you, and when you were talking to that guy over there it really sorta bummed me out, because I was too nervous to come talk to you today, but I really wanted too, but I knew that if i talked to you I’d have to say this so here it goes: Y/N would you maybe like to go out with me sometime?”
“Yes! Robby I really like you too,” both your smiles grew.
“Can I kiss you?” Robby asked. You nodded, and leant in. Your lips met, it was a soft - slightly short kiss, but it was enough. It was enough for you.
“Yes!” Sam’s voice shouted, making you both whip your heads around, “Sorry! I um... Called it. I’ll leave you guys be,” you both chuckled.
“May I have this dance my Dear?” Robby asked is a posh accent, making you laugh, and offered his hand to you.
“Yes, you may,” You smiled, placing your hand on his.
**********
The night had ended in the best way possible. Robby had kissed you goodbye, which prompted Sam to start her questions, asking exactly what had happened between you two. You just chuckled, and told her everything, with a smile on your face the entire time.
#robby cobra kai imagine#robby keene x reader#robby keene imagine#robby keene#sam larusso#daniel larusso#cobra kai imagine#cobra kai fanfic#robby cobra kai#cobra kai x reader#cobra kai#miyagi do
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How I’d rate the Gods/Goddesses(riordanverse)
This is my rating based off the way Rick Riordan portrayed them in the Riordanverse. The traditional myths have been taken into account but do not make up my entire opinion.
Hestia:
10/10 would give my life for this goddess. In all aspects of the word, this goddess is a goddess. I want a novella of her watching over the hearth and watching out for her family and the heroes. I imagine her being a very comforting presence and warm like a hug, and maybe this is me projecting my mummy issues but I just want her to hug me.
Dionysus:
A solid 7.35/10 for Mr D. Naturally he was a bit annoying, but we were never under the pretence that he he was meant to be anything more than what he provided and I respect that. Him caring about his kids at camp, and staying relatively loyal to his wife is always a plus. And I like his relatively humble beginnings being a hero and becoming a god and then not causing that much trouble in the series. Unlike some other pieces of shit.
Hermes:
4/10. Mans had no right blaming Luke’s thirst for mass genocide on 16 year old Annabeth. Not cool man. Not cool. He gets the points he got because he did genuinely care about Maia, and Luke, but he lost the rest of them by having a blatant favourite (who literally caused so much destruction). However I do still like his line about family in sea of monsters and never giving up on them. Nice meaning. But he was still a shitty father and only intervened out of self interest most of the time.
Aphrodite:
2/10. I hate how low I have to rank her. But my god did Rick do her dirty in his depiction. Just the misogyny, the lack of depth, and the untouched potential she has as a character, as a goddess, THE OLDEST GOD/GODDESS and Rick really made her throw rose petals around the battle fields on one of (what was meant to be) the biggest fights of the riordanverse. Absolute robbery. If I’m not mistaken as well, she was a huge contributor to the issues and obstacles percabeth went through and we do not Stan. HOWEVER, I love her as a goddess normally, and what she could represent if she’s written properly.
Hephaestus:
8/10. I have no qualms with this man. I too prefer the company of inanimate objects to people and get stressed about social interaction. And I too have mummy issues. So me and Hephaestus are on the same page. Let this man tinker away in his little bunker. He never went out of his way to make things harder for demigods, and was helpful when they came to him for help which I can also respect. (Point deduction because it was on his land that Bianca died…if I’m not mistaken).
Ares:
-12/10. This man was introduced as a bully, and gives off the vibes of every phobic, known to humanity. I do not vibe. I do not agree. I do not stan. ALSO his motorbike seat is apparently made from "Caucasian human skin”!!!!!!???? We as children never questioned this? We just went sure aight move on?! Please this man has the biggest small dick energy if I ever saw it and I despite him so much. Mans was also never helpful. Ever. I don’t think. I think Mars was better than him though so I’ll give him that.
Artemis:
9.99/10 all hail queen of the lesbians. Mad respect to this woman. In what she stands for, who she protects and in her actions. She’s what I embody when I stand up for myself in fights and when I speak to have my voice heard. I like Rick’s depiction of her and I love seeing her and her hunters pop up in his books. Would love a couple books on the hunters and their adventures. Also I love archery. And I’m biased to the moon because I love the night so she gets extra points for all of that too.
Apollo:
Prior to Trials of Apollo 7/10, after TOA 9.90/10. Yes it’s a big jump but my god did Lester grow on me. Prior to TOA he was pretty average. He was funny, always provided a good laugh to the plot and was always helping the demigods which I loved. But I know he’s an asshole full of himself so I can’t give him any higher than that until he had some character development, which we got in TOA (specifically after Burning Maze). And I really like who he is now and the type of character Rick shaped him out to be. In the myths he’s a big creep, and I still stand by that idea, hence why he doesn’t get a full 10.
Athena:
3.5/10…ughhh I hate to say this. But part of it is the same reasoning I gave about Aphrodite. I just have so many issues with the way she’s portrayed and it’s not accurate to what I believe in my heart she should represent. And as a child of Athena, I feel like Rick then did her entire legacy dirty. She has her moments, but since I can’t even fully recall one right now, it just proves my point. As a goddess as a whole though, what she represents is everything I aspire to be in life. She’s my entire aesthetic of hard work, creativity, and strength and grit, without taking away of being a powerful female. Zeus’ lead strategist like shit, Rick could have done so much. But he did not. And I am thus sad about it.
Demeter:
6/10. I have no issues with Demeter. Kinda boring. I think that’s what most of the fandom thinks as well. She just didn’t get enough screen time or development. I have no attachment to her. I think the powers that she has, and has passed on to her kids is cool though so there’s that. But in the series as well she doesn’t do much. She also (initially) doesn’t fight in the battle of Manhattan so maybe I’m slightly bitter there. But yeah, i’m indifferent.
Hades:
8.99/10 Okay so hear me out I know this man gets so much bad rep in the myths and that’s part of why he doesn’t get a full 9. But I really really love the way he’s depicted in the riordanverse, especially with his entire arc with his kids/specially with Nico. Like literally one of my favourite quotes In the entire series is “my children are so rarely happy, I would like to see you be the exception.” Out of the gods listed here (and excluding Dionysus), he acts like a genuine parent to his kids and tries. And like there’s issues, sure, but he works on them. And since so much of the first series is about how the gods are neglectful, seeing him change and seeing him fight for Nico is my everything.
Poseidon:
7.1/10. Honestly this feels too high considering mans was nearly If not just as bad as Zeus in keeping it in his dam pants. His points come from treating Sally like the queen she is, and trying with Percy (albeit too little too late but I can see the minimal effort). That being said, he’s really shitty in the myths so I can’t really give him anything higher than this. He’s barely a dad, and sees Percy more as an ally than an actual son or human being that needs attention. I like him more in Fanon and the way that I write him lmao because I humanise him. But I won’t lie he’s dilf material, and I still like rick’s depiction of him.
Hera:
3/10 I’m surprising myself with this rating because tbh I might even push her to 4.5 just because she’s so consistent in her own goals and agenda, and that perseverance is very admirable even if it was at the cost of some of my favourite characters. She was very much two faced though and fucked around stuff that she should have stayed out of. Her hatred for literal children though is a bit problematic. I have no attachment to her but I admire how much she just wants a family. However she just really needs to assess how she approaches that since it’s a bit messed up.
Zeus:
-5/10 I really don’t Zeus, his character, him in the myths, everything about him. He gives off the vibes of a man who abuses the power that he was given. And I don’t like that. It makes me uncomfortable and I don’t like him at all. His treatment of his children, of the demigods, and the way he governs Olympus. Not a fan. I could rule Olympus better and I’m a mentally unstable, serotonin deficient 20 year old with a hyper fixation on greek mythology and Minecraft. However despite not liking his character, I think Rick does a great job at depicting him accurately to how he was in the myths.
#rick riordan#riordanverse#percy jackson and the olympians#heroes of olympus#trials of apollo#percy jackson#zeus#hera#hades#poseidon#demeter#hestia#dionysus#apollo#artemis#aphrodite#hephaestus#hermes#athena#ares#mount olympus#olympus#lester papadopoulos#percy jackson and the lightning thief#percy jackson and the sea of monsters#percy jackson and the titans curse#Percy jackson and the battle of the labyrinth#percy jackson and the last olympian#the lost hero#the son of neptune
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