#and this teenager comes up to you and goes „fight me“ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluff-n-cookies · 2 days

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Hello :)

Could you please do and platonic Aizawa x daughter reader?

His daughter is in her teen years so she is being like really rebel and all that so they fought a lot, but one day she just breaksdown during one fight and starts crying and apologizing for being a shitty daughter?

I have been avoiding this for so long, and it's all because I have no idea how aizawa would handle something like this. because it goes against everything that Aizawa would try and teach his kid so this may be a little forcefully written, apologies.

TW : unhealthy parenting, mental illness, some suicidal thoughts, probably angsty shit, I dunno, read at your own risk.

We can start this by walking through how this may start in the first place. I think the best place to start is that reader's mom left her and Aizawa when she was very young, and Aizawa, assuming here he didn't understand how to properly tell her why her mother left her, never tells her why.

Now reader is very young so she might blame one of two things.

herself

her father

While both instances would technically work, I think the more favorable option is she blames herself since a young child would probably never blame an adult they look up to and hold dear as the problem.

Up to this point her father has been really kind to her so the only other variable is her, this spirals into social anxiety, low self esteem, and depression. all of which don't help when you have an absent mother and a neglectful father who is both a teacher and a full time hero, which leaves little to no room for children.

(this is also why I think it isn't realistic for Aizawa to keep Eri or a child without another non-hero caretaker. Fight me, I dare you.)

As time goes on, and this child becomes a teenager, she might not know how to properly express her feeling and after being misguided by factors like the internet, other adults, and "friends" she might take out the feeling of being abandoned on her closest caretaker and another source of her problems; Aizawa.

if you purposely yell at him or start arguments it's not going to be very fun because Aizawa has this complex where if his students or other heros represent incompetence or arrogance he expels them or ignores him rather than explaining it to them and helping them improve, this is especially with students.

and since he lacks a true connection with you as his daughter mainly because of his job(s) and past with Oboro which he is still trying to heal from keeping him from bonding with you, he'll treat you as a student like the rest of the teenagers he knows. and even then, you may actually be treated worse than his students because while he interacts with them daily, he interacts with maybe 1 hour every other day.

so from all that he simply ignores you, just stops interacting with you entirely, he's too tired for your bullshit. this action makes the wedge between you two even worse.

if you keep persisting though he will yell back but it's often really short and really loud. something like "SHUT UP" a cold "I don't care." before slamming the door in your face. He knows it's probably not right to do that to your daughter but let's face it. you're just this annoying teenager he legally has to live with if he doesn't want to lose his hero and teaching license.

this is where things actually get very interesting, because let's assume he stops approaching you entirely, you just live in the same house nothing more than that, and while you may act like you hate your father for ruining your family and neglecting you all your life on the outside, remember, you're still that little kid in second grade that blames yourself for your mother leaving and your father not caring for you.

so let's say you realize this and go back to blaming yourself for everything like you did when you where a kid but since your father stopped talking to you entirely explaining your faults to him maybe difficult.

this where my personal experiences come in, I've actually had this happen to me in my own life, and I truely hope that you'll enjoy it. thank you.

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why is it that the voices are the loudest in the dead of night?

the moon is gone, the birds are silent, there isn't a single light that shines on your tear streaked face, puffly, swollen, sad, just sad.

years of confusion, neglect, a lack of love in it's purest form.

all because of you.

it's all because of you.

it's sings so prettily, like it's a church choir spreading the word of the lord like it's common knowledge.

it's common knowledge that you are a terrible person!

it cackles.

the urge to strangle yourself to finally feel some relief has never been stronger.

lie awake in the dead of night, in pitch darkness, a proper scenery to match ones broken and cracked soul, be careful, you might hurt yourself, again.

however, one cannot weep in their wallows forever.

the night has to make way for the morning sun.

and a relaxed self pity has to make way to dread.

dread.

dread of him, he who you blame for everything, everything you know is your fault.

it's all your fault.

a click at the door,

the creak of the old wood and the hinges never oiled.

mild thumping footsteps that wander around the apartment that can barely hold your overflowing buckets of tears.

you can mumble out all your pleas.

pleas that this is all a terrible nightmare and your real life is actually one with a kind and loving mother and a supportive and encouraging father.

mumble out the little lies that you made up all these years to make yourself feel worse and other better.

"it's pointless to keep trying."

"I wish I wasn't here."

"why can't I just be happy?"

"it's all my fault,

it's all my fault,

it's all my fault."

the thin walls don't do those in mourning justice though.

for the wind is calm, the branches don't dare to move, the owls, the bats, the sleeping heros in training downstairs don't make a peep.

for the only ones alive, awake, aware, is a man beaten down and broken by society serving as it's protector, ignoring the one in most need of protection all this time. With him is a girl. a girl that's scared, scared of her mirror image that haunts her, a girl who's cried an ocean, screamed a thousand wails of pain, a girl lost in her own heart,

"No wonder no one loves you."

you lie again.

but keen ears trained from years of work with villains hears you, for the first time, he hears you.

not the rebellious teen he's seen yell out strings of pure hatred and fiery insults like he's her own worst enemy.

it's the girl who he saw waiting on the steps to their apartment all those years ago. waiting for her mama to come back home with the promise of cupcakes.

it's the girl who never smiled for the remainder of elementary school.

it's the girl who's heart withered way that autumn evening.

he heard the softest little voice in the dead of night. he heard his daughter cry

"No wonder no one loves you."

"But I love you."

for that whole night, for that whole night.

the peace was disturbed.

for that whole night, it seemed that the moon shone once again.

it may not be the sun. but it'll do for now.

Aizawa walked away shortly after that.

leaving a little girls and her mirror image to ponder.

ponder.

---------

Afterwards I don't think he'd talk about it too much, he's proabably approach you after breakfast the next morning and tell you "you can talk to him about it if you want." but not much more than that

he definitely would change his practices though. like getting you a therapist, taking the weekends off in favor of being around the house more.

he'll let you get used to his presence first like one would with a cat, and one day. maybe years later, or tomorrow, you'll talk to him.

you'll tell him you love him too.

and maybe.

just maybe.

the world will stop,

and everything will be okay.

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incorrectfatui · 27 days

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Childe: Signora, I accidentally dropped my lemon seed into my mouth and then I accidentally ate it. Am I going to have an lemon tree grow inside my belly? Signora: Well, let's think about it. Did you also swallow a wet paper towel? Childe: Yes. Signora: Signora: Alright, let's go get Dottore

#la signora #childe #tartaglia #dottore #genshin impact #fatui harbingers #incorrect quotes #childe is stupid i love him #sometimes i feel a lil bad for signora #doesn‘t remember her own backstory all that well and now she has to deal with her insane coworkers #imagine youre 500 years old #still sad about your husbands death #and this teenager comes up to you and goes „fight me“

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chappellrroan · 3 months

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it's almost like if i dont let the whole world know about my new hyperfixtation i will burst into flames

#preacher's daughter both family tree songs #how she says in family tree “heaven hath no fury like a woman scorned and baby hell don't scare me i've been times before”#and western nights “i would hold the gun if you asked me to but if you love me like you say you do will you ask me to?”#the whole house in nebraska song UGH #the outro of hard times i am tired of you still tied to me bleeding whenever you want too tired to move to tired to leave #american teenager gracie's cover i love you so so so so much i do it for daddy and i do it for dale i am doing what i want DAMN i am doing #it well #ptolemaea that stop scream i am the face of love's rage blessed be the daughters of cain bound to suffering eternal through sins of their #fathers commited long before their conception that whole outro in general #i tried to be good am i no good? am i no good? am i no good?....i just wanted to be yours? am i yours? am i yours?...if i am turning in you #stomach and making you feel sick am i making you feel sick? am i making you feel sick? am i making you feel sick? is just SO AGH #also god loves you but not enough to save you I FORGIVE IT ALL AS IT COMES BACK TO ME #we know how it goes the more it hurts the less it shows but i feel like they all know and that's why i can never come back home and i spent #my life watching it go by from the sidelines and god i have tried but i think it's about time i put up a fight #and the instrumental songs their production is so so good #anyways yeah now i feel better if anyone is reading till here go listen to it thanks <3 #it's great for people with family issues #v.txt

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solidwater05 · 7 months

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ULTRAKILL moment

Yup! With a side of cannibalism. No actually it's like mainly cannibalism-

#murder drones #ice speaks #ask tag goes here #anon ask #if you locked v1 and uzi (md main character) in a room they would have no reason to kill each other #since v1 runs on blood and uzi runs on oil #but they'd fight anyways. and uzi would lose bc the reason why drones need new oil constantly is because of how easily they overheat #and also because she's like. a teenager that was sent flying by the recoil of her own railgun #thanks for giving me a reason to talk about uzi vs v1 btw. i thought about it a while ago but didn't think it'd ever come up

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sp0o0kylights · 5 months

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Give meee: an Eddie who went into a small little bookshop on an Indie trip and stumbled across an in person fandom meeting.

It's mostly Star Trek, and also mostly women, but the stories they have are nothing like Eddie's ever read.

He's barely a teenager, and already protective of himself and his real identity--but everything he's ever wanted is written down, right here, on a little zine with Kirk and Spock doodled on the cover.

They’re not--it’s not obvious, that they’re what he is, but the story itself is blatant and Eddie ends up being so obviously close to tears, he accidentally outs himself without ever saying a word.

(He also ends up on the mailing list, then being sent home with several hand printed copies of all kinds of zines.)

Eddie would remain on this list well past his third senior year in high school.

Past bats, and Vecna and Steve fucking Harrington.

Flash forward to his first apartment.The tiny one he shares with Steve when they followed Nancy and Robin to college.

Steve knows Eddie’s gay.

Or rather, Steve has been told, but Eddie's still pretty clammed up about it. He's not yet where Robin is, ready to bemoan her loveless existence while draped over their crappy, thrifted couch.

He makes jokes and he flirts and he absolutely says things he shouldn't, but none of it is real.

It's flash. Showmanship.

It's the persona that yes, is him, but Eddie consciously built it. There’s nothing soft or gooey there, nothing anyone can use to hurt him.

So when he comes home and sees that plain, padded envelope with the neatly printed label on the counter, torn wide open and flat without its contents?

Eddie panics.

His heart thunders in his chest, vision tunneling as adrenaline kicks through him.

He wants to bolt-- should bolt--except ever since he almost died his brain no longer obeys him.

Not when it comes to running, anyway.

Instead it fights him to a standstill, freezing his feet right to the living room floor.

The urge is still there.

To run, and save face the cowards way.

Vanish before Steve could get at a part of him that had once kept Eddie out of Wayne’s trailer for two days, until the old man had hunted him down and made him come home, huffing about how he’d love Eddie no matter what but he better never disappear like that again.

(Which Eddie did anyway, and of everything that happened with Vecna, it’s that he regrets the most. The stories he heard of Wayne putting up posters. Squaring off with angry, too-righteous townies, and--)

A sniffle jerks him out of his thoughts.

Eddie gasps, entirely unsure of when he stopped breathing. Stumbles back and turns, right in time for Steve to come out of his room and amble down their hallway.

One hand rubs at his eyes, and the other is--the other has…

Eddie identifies the cheaply printed, stapled zine immediately. It's one he's wanted to read for a while now, solely because it features a story about Kirk and Spock being stuck in a cave together on a planet that has bat-like, vicious animals on it.

Kirk gets bitten after something goes wrong with the transporter and, look, it’s carthiatic okay!? Sue a guy for wanting to read a romance about a situation he identifies with!

Steve looks up from the zine and startles.

For a second his eyes go dark and flat, the same way Eddies and Robins and Nancy's and everyone's does when caught off guard.

It's gone in a flash though, Steve visibly relaxing when he clocks that it's just Eddie.

He keeps the zine pressed to his sweater clad chest, and huffs out a laugh that's half forced and half pure relief.

“Fuck Eds, you scared me! I didn’t know you could be quiet.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie manages, voice sounding totally and absolutely normal and not at all ten octaves higher than it usually is.

They stare at each other for a second. Long enough that Steve's eyebrows crinkle in the middle, which is the first hint that he’s beginning to worry, and Eddie really cannot handle Steve being worried right now.

“What's--” Eddie’s voice cracks and he coughs to recover. “what's that?”

Steve frowns at him for a moment, until Eddie gestures at the zine in his hands.

“Oh!”

Steve holds it up, as if to show it off.

“It's a little book Robin got in the mail. It has a bunch of stories in it. They're normally boring as fuck but this one's from Star Trek.”

Hearing the words ‘Star Trek’ out of Steve’s mouth shouldn’t be weird, not anymore, when Eddie and Dustin have been on a two man mission to nerdify Harrington as much as possible, but it still kicks like a mule to hear him say such things without any prompting.

“You know what Star Trek is?”

“Eddie,” Steve tuts, tongue clicking in his mouth. “everyone knows what Star Trek is. It’s nerd shit, but like, old nerd shit. My grandparents used to watch it when I stayed over. This?”

He shakes the zine, so hard Eddie wants to snatch it away from him.

“This isn't nerd shit. This is excellent.”

Steve gives the zine an appreciative glance and hell, maybe Eddie accidentally walked into another dimension.

He’s been trying to get Steve to read more, rediscover the joys of books the public school system does its best to destroy, but until now Steve hasn’t really taken to it.

Enjoys when Eddie reads aloud sometimes, and has started to bug Robin to do it for him too, but otherwise?

Eddie’s nerve seen him with anything that had the written word on it that wasn’t a cooking or car related magazine.

“Honestly,” Steve’s saying, “I think Robs fucked up, this isn't her style at all. She’s gonna be pissed.”

He eyes the thing appreciatively, like the gift it is.

“I'm stealing it the second she figures that out.” He adds decisively.

“You like it?” Eddie asks.

“Mmm.”

“Even though it's--it's got…Kirk…”

Steve's frowning at him again. “What?”

“It's queer man. It's really queer.”

Steve peers at him, the crinkle back in his eyebrows.

“I know. Wait, how do you--”

And well. It’s now or never.

“It's mine.” Eddie says in a rush.

“No it's not.” Steve scoffs, and okay, maybe this is a dream. Eddie pinched himself twice already, but perhaps a third time would wake him up?

(It does not.)

“it was even addressed to Robin. Well,” Steve has one hand on a hip now, his default position when arguing, “Robbie, but she goes by that sometimes.”

Which Robin does, but not in the fucking mail.

Without a word, Eddie turns and goes for the envelope the zine came in.

Steve follows, invading Eddie’s space to peer over his shoulder (and that’s Eddie’s fault too, that closeness, but he didn’t think it would be turned on him in a moment like this--)

There's a sticker on the envelope’s label.

It’s barely hanging on, half of it curled into the air. Round and yellow, with little black lines, it becomes immediately obvious that one of Robin's smiley face stickers has migrated again.

They're all over the apartment. Remnants of a phase she went through after she stole a roll of them from her and Steve’s job at a local toy store.

This one had clearly jumped ship from its original spot (likely on the ceiling somewhere), and was now firmly over the E in Eddie's name.

‘Ddie’ still isn't exactly ‘Obbie’ but--

Steve leans around, snatching the envelope up and bringing it close to his face.

Far too close, like he can't read it, eyes squinting as he examines the label--and suddenly Eddie knows exactly what happened.

He laughs, an explosion of noise that's half hysterical and half disbelief.

Steve looks at him.

“What?”

“Oh my God,” Eddie says, one finger jabbing in the air in the vague direction of Steve’s nose. “I told you you needed glasses!”

“I do not!” Steve protests immediately, but his eyes are darting around the envelope.

He’s scrambling to figure out what Eddie’s seeing, trying desperately to find a hole that can prove himself right.

Eddie decides to help him, by plucking the smiley sticker off the envelope.

“See?” He jeers, and shit okay, maybe his life isn’t over just yet. “It says Eddie, not Robbie!”

“You guys have got to start using your government names for this shit.” Steve bitches, but it’s weak.

Eddie feels a grin coming on, and lets it overtake his face.

“So...Kirk and Spock huh?”

“They’re cute.” Steve defends instantly, before sighing his defeat and tossing the envelope on the table.

The zine he keeps in his hands.

Eddie crosses his arms and leans against their rickety table. “Even though they’re both guys?”

“I thought we were past this!” Steve whines. “I went to a gay bar with Robin last weekend!”

Which is news to Eddie.

“You didn’t invite me?” He gasps, feigning hurt by putting a hand over his heart.

Truthfully he still hasn’t fully recovered--is play acting himself, almost, but is rapidly coming around to the idea of Steve appreciating queer fanfiction.

“We did!” Steve rolls his eyes so dramatically his whole head moves. “We absolutely did, You said,”

Here Steve’s voice pitches into a mockery of Eddie’s that he will not give him points for, even if it is a little hilarious, “Me? At some loser bar? Fuck no, I’ve got a campaign to write. Starbuck, don’t you have homework?”

“I didn’t know that was a gay bar!”

“You did! Robin told you!”

“Okay well, I wasn’t listening!”

“Clearly. I keep telling you we need a fucking--system or, I don’t know, a code word or something!”

“Yeah well, when you wanna make us a safe word for conversations, big boy, you let me know.”

They’re both laughing a little now, this argument veering into familiar territory, with Eddie not really listening and Steve mocking him for it later. (As well as vice versa, with startling regularity.)

“You really like it though?” Eddie says after the laughter winds down, gesturing to the zine still clutched in Steve’s hand.

“Yeah.” Steve confirms, easy as he’s said anything else. Like this isn’t embarrassing, or almost worse than the time Wayne found Eddie’s porno mags and alphabetized them as a joke.

“It's part of a mail tree. I’m supposed to send it on to the next person when I’m done with it. I make copies though,” Eddie rushes to add, because Steve is now clutching the little booklet to his chest in horror, as if Eddie was about to rip it out of his hands. “If you like I’ll show you my other ones?”

Steve eases his grip, giving Eddie the little smile he makes that makes his stomach flip.

“That’d be cool.”

(Later, Steve pokes at Eddie’s thigh from where they’re both sprawled on Eddie’s bed, Steve having switched the new zine out for one of Eddie’s copies. “Are you going to laugh at me if I ask you to read some of these aloud?”

“Only if you don’t laugh when I ask you to take me to that gay bar.”

“Deal, but on the grounds you’re barred from making fun of my flirting attempts. Robin doing it was bad enough.”

“Well you deserve it if you’re hitting on women at a gay bar, Stevie.”

“I wasn't hitting on women you asshole.” Steve says and oh.

Oh.

Eddie feels the floor drop out from under him for the second time that day.

At least this time it’s not fear that thunders through him, but possibility.)

#steddie #pre steddie #eddie reads star trek slash fiction #kirk/spock #mentioned anyway lol #Steve Harringtons Terrible Fucking Eyesight #(me too buddy me too)#steve harrington #eddie munson #zines #0o0 fanfics #stranger things

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lovifie · 4 months

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Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 2: Captain’s Dinner

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

Warning/Notes: Captain Price x Reader (on this chapter only, the poly 141 is still building), Oral sex (F receiver), a bit nasty

The rest of the drive goes by in a breath, suspiciously, Simon didn't step on any more bumps, and it felt like being rocking a baby. Kyle got his hand inside your shirt, but as nasty as your acts before, now his hand was just innocently caressing your back, keeping you calm and pliant against him.

At some point, the car stops and you hear Simon talk with someone outside of the car.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

The car moves again but for short this time. And just after a minute or two, the car stops and Simon turns off the engine. Everyone begins to exit the car, Kyle included with you in his arms. You notice people walking around, not too close but enough to see you, and you start to feel self-aware of the fact that you are being carried like a baby by the Sergeant.

“Can you put me down? I want to walk.” You say squirming a bit in the Sergeant’s arms.

“It's faster this way actually, doll.” He responds giving you a quick smile.

“At least put me on your back, it feels weird not seeing where we going.” You say turning your head around as much as you can.

Kyle snickers, making you turn to him with your eyebrows furrowed. “Doll, I actually would be really glad if you let me carry you like this the rest of the way because like this I can hide the fact that I came on my pants like a teenager.”

“Oh.” That's all you managed to say as you feel your cheek blushing. You can definitely feel your panties sticking to your pussy, but he must definitely feel his underwear hardening.

“Soap, Ghost, we will tomorrow at 0700 for a debriefing of today's events. Go rest now. Kyle, come into my office so we can find the key and free our little birdie.” Price orders behind you, relief flowing through your veins at the thought of being free.

Kyle enters the room, Price’s office by logic, and sits you on a desk. And once you are seated, he raises his arm and crouches down getting out of the weird knot of limbs.

He stands before you, free, as you look at him dumbfounded, still cuffed.

“H-how… You could do that?!” You ask looking at him. “I thought you didn't fit, that's why you haven't got out! You could do that?!”

Kyle simply chuckles at you while he adjusts his pants quickly and drops a peck on your forehead whispering against your skin. “Sorry, luv. But it was just too comfortable.” He turns to Price, announcing he is going to take a shower and leaves the room sending you a wink right before closing the door.

You turn to Price, looking a bit shocked still and he picks the key from the drawer at his desk. “Sorry about him, he is a good lad. Hope you were not uncomfortable, right?” He asks as he walks up to you, you put your hands together expecting him to unlock the cuffs, but instead, his hands travel to the back of your tights and he picks you up forcing you to put your hands around his shoulder (almost strangling him for a second before you remember to move your hands above his head)

You let him be, too tired already to fight anymore, and he sits you on the other side of the desk. In front of his chair, once you are seated, he sits on his chair and gets between your legs.

The sight in front of you shouldn't be allowed, broad shoulders making you physically spread your legs to accommodate him, blue eyes looking up at you and warm hands picking yours. “Let's take these off, yeah?”

“Yes, please.” You whisper back, not even sure what you are begging for.

Price takes the cuffs back, furrowing when he sees the red mark where the metal dented into your soft skin. He caresses both wrists drawing circles and then one of them goes higher on your arm up to the bandages. “How's the pain?” He asks looking at your arm.

“Hm? Oh, that… honestly, I always thought bullet wounds would hurt a lot more. It's not too bad, I almost had forgotten about it.” You say smiling back at him.

He chuckles back shaking his head. “I'm definitely having you give a pep talk to the rookies. Sorry about your blouse, as well. I'll pay for a new one.” He says caressing your arm.

“Oh, there is no need, really. This is an old one, I should have thrown it out a bit ago anyway.” You admit shaking your hands to let him know there is no need.

“I insist. And if you get any medical bills, or need any physiotherapy sessions or anything. We will pay for them, we'll take care of you, doll.” He says standing up to his full height still between your legs.

“You keep saying that…”

“What do you mean?”

“That you will take care of me.”

“Yes. We will if you allow us.”

You look at his face, trying to decipher what he means. But the intensity of his gaze pulls the air out of your lungs leaving you breathless, the heat from his body is scorching against you and the ground seems so far away you feel like you falling off a cliff.

“Are you okay, doll?” He asks softly looking to meet your gaze again cupping your face.

“Yeah.” You say softly pulling his hand away and you put a hand on his chest pushing him back. “I-I should get going, I have work in the morning it's better if I get back home.”

“You can stay the night if you want, I'll drive you to work tomorrow.” He quickly responds like he doesn't want you to go.

“Capt- John.” You correct yourself earning a smile from him. “John, I need to shower, and I don't have any clean clothes, really you have done more than enough for me, I will just go home.”

You stay looking at him, waiting for him to move back so you can hop off the desk and get out. But he doesn't, instead, he gets closer and moves both hands to cup your face making you look at him. “You are thinking too hard, doll.”

And then, as natural as it is to blink, he kisses you.

A soft peck right on the corner of your mouth to test the waters, a soft peck on the other side, and then, softly, almost like melting at the touch, a kiss right to the centre of your lips.

He moves slightly back, enough to be able to speak and ask. “You solid?”

And you nod.

You are not even a hundred per cent sure you know what he means, but you know that whatever the man in front of you would ask, you would say yes.

You shouldn't, you don't know him. You only know his name and his position as Captain. You know your mind is not clear, right now he is your saviour, he is been taking care of you since you met, and he is so strong, so gentle with you, so handsome.

You shouldn't be leaning in for another kiss, but you are.

There is always tomorrow for regrets.

But tonight, all your senses scream John Price.

Never did you though a kiss could get you so hot and bothered, he only has his hands on your face and his lips on yours and you are already panting.

He moves forward, hips crashing onto yours making you gasp and he uses the opportunity to get his tongue on your mouth.

You can taste the tobacco on his tongue, swimming down your body. His hands move, taking your hair back into a ponytail and he pulls back. It stings and you groan softly, shifting to a moan when you feel his lips down your throat.

His moustache tickles the soft skin of your neck in contrast with the scorching feeling of his breath. “Who beat me to it?” He asks, chuckling drily looking at something on your neck.

Fucking Kyle.

“Better to erase it, doll.” He says, possessiveness taking over him. And there are no more soft kisses, now he makes out, no, he devours your neck like a madman. Sucking and biting, feeling the mark erupt and your panties to grow wetter.

You bite your lip to try and not make an embarrassment of yourself from how badly you want to moan, and you take his shirt out of his pants. Running your hands under the shirt, needing to feel him.

“I hope you don't mind, sweetheart. Since it is already ruined…” He trails off as he grabs your shirt over your chest and pulls, hard, pulling the buttons of the fabric and ripping it where it didn't give in.

He almost growls when he sees the skin giggle and he dives right into your chest. His hands rest on your waist pulling you forward him, pulling your shirt out of your pants.

You try to take off your jacket, but the sudden movement causes a sharp pain in your arm making you groan in pain. Price quickly detaches himself from your skin to look at your face, alarmed he hurted you. “Sorry, you alright love?” He asks feeling guilty. You shake your head, only worrying him more and then you add. “It's not you, the jacket. Got stuck on the bandages or something; can you help me, please?” He smirks mischievously at you. “Help you to undress? Oh, darling, that's my pleasure.”

He kisses you on your lips again, taking off your jacket carefully and then your shirt. He pulls your bra strap down your shoulder, leaving your bra downside, your boobs out and pushes up. He cups one of your boobs groaning on your mouth when you moan softly and then bends down to get the other one inside his mouth.

He twirls his tongue around your nipple, savouring the taste of your skin. You move your hand to the back of his head, and when he gets lower, right under your boob over your ribs, and he bites you as you pull his hair moaning his name. “John…”

“Yeah, darling, moan my name like that.” He mumbles against your skin before he goes back to your mouth. “You taste like fucking candy, sweetheart. Can't fucking wait to taste all of your.”

“Do it. Do it, please.” You say against his mouth, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Aw, darling, what a fucking sight. Asking so nicely, how can I say no?” He says between kisses as he undoes your pants.

He lifts your ass from the desk with an arm as he pulls down your pants and your underwear all together. He leaves you again on the desk and undoes the clasp of your bra taking it off. Leaving you completely bare on his desk, while he remains completely dressed. The vest is even still on.

“Fuck… I must have been a fucking saint on my last life to be worth it of this sight, angel.” He says looking up and down your body as he moves his hands from your waist up to your face to give you a kiss. “I'm gonna make you feel good, love. So, so good…” he trails off as he begins to give kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbones, sternum, tummy, and just when he is about to reach your mount. He pulls back making you whine. “Shh, pretty, just getting comfy.”

He grabs the chair from before sitting down, gets closer between your legs and pulls them over his shoulder forcing you to lean on your back using the elbow that is not hurt to prop yourself up enough to see him.

He kisses the inside of your tights, from your knee and higher, higher, higher… you can feel his beard on that soaking part of you where you need him the most. But he doesn't indulge you, instead, he goes back to your knee and high again. Teasing you, leaving you panting, aching, clenching around anything, needy, desperate.

“John… please… no more teasing…” you beg, feeling desperate for him.

“Poor baby, already soaking.” He says looking directly at your cunt, and you feel as he presses a thumb on your clit making you shudder at the feeling and he slowly moves it down your slit, reaching your dripping hole and pressing it, but without getting it inside. Just collecting your juices and driving you mad.

He takes the thumb up to his lips licking it while he looks at your eyes. “Just as I thought, fucking candy, love.” You want to complain, to grab his hair and shove his face against your cunt but the only thing that leaves your lips is a bratty whine, too horny to think straight.

You feel Price chuckle against your skin, and when you finally feel ready to tell him off, he presses his tongue flat against your clit turning your brain to absolute mush as you let go of a moan worth of a porn video as you let your head fall back.

He moves his head up and down, letting his tongue move between your folds; collecting your arousal mixing it with his spit making a mess on his beard.

His index finger moves to your entrance, slowly getting it inside stretching you slightly because of the size of his hands. He sucks at your clit, almost making out with it. And once he feels satisfied with it, he gets a second finger inside.

You keep moaning his name, like a mantra almost, not being able to remain quiet when he begins to thrust his finger in and out of your wet cunt. The sounds, the squelch, the sight, delightful.

You have been given head before, but never like this. It never had you begin for them to keep going, to not let you hanging, never this desperate. But John Price, it has you wishing you could kiss the terrorist of your neighbour just for putting you in his line of vision.

He curls his fingers inside of you pressing a point that has you falling on your back hitting your head load enough for him to chuckle against your cunt, but before he can lift his head to check on you, you just get your hand on his head keeping him in place.

Caressing his hair, spreading your legs even wider, he eats you out like a man starved. Like he hasn't eaten in days like he just found a water fountain in the middle of the desert.

You realise then, that the reason why you have never felt like this before with any ex-lover, is because you have never felt this desired. You can feel Price moaning against your cunt, and it makes you wonder who is enjoying it more.

Not for long though, because you begin to feel the knot on your stomach get tighter. More and more tight, you feel your toes curl and you close your eyes letting your mouth open as you feel the knot coming undone like an elevator free-falling. A high-pitched moan leaves your lips that in any other situation would make you feel embarrassed and your tights clasp around Price’s head when he doesn't relent on his attack.

He helps you ride out your orgasm as you cover your face with your hands, the light in the room is suddenly too bright, and after a couple of seconds, you look up at him.

And the sight…

He is sitting, leaning back against the chair, manspreading wide, an elbow resting on the armrest as he lazily licks clean the fingers that were just inside of you. Absolutely content with himself and his accomplishments, a sight absolutely devilishly delicious.

You notice the tent on his pants, and you try to touch him with your feet. But he grabs your ankle, and you don't have enough energy on you to push it.

“As much as I would like to keep going, doll.” He says letting your leg down and coming up closer to your face. “You can barely keep your eyes open, so I think it's time to rest.”

He stands up, goes somewhere behind you that you guess is the bathroom because of the sound of water and a bit later, he is back. He picks you up, and lays down on a sofa, with you on top.

A bathroom and a sofa inside of his personal office, he really is a military captain. He covers the both of you with a blanket, he gives you a kiss to the forehead and before you know it, you are out.

Post-nut clarity doesn't hit until a couple of hours later.

You are naked, in an unknown man's office, far away from home, with no phone, no keys, no money, no clothes, ashamed.

So you do the only thing you can do, you slip away from the sleeping handsome man, get dressed as fast as you can without making any noise and leave the room. You don't even bother to put on your blouse, choosing to just close your jacket.

Once outside, you let a sigh escape your lips. You know the military base, it is actually not that far away from your home, less than an hour walking back.

Are you excited about walking back home at the break of dawn alone? No. Do you have another choice? Not really, not any that would help reduce the walk of shame you found yourself doing.

So you get your hands on your pockets and start doing your half a marathon back home.

And just as the sun is beginning to pick over the horizon, you reach your home.

Just last night there were dozens of police cars, military workers, everything, the whole paraphernalia. But now? It is just dead silence, no a soul in sight, as if nothing has ever happened.

The janitor calls your name when he sees you, he gives you your keys and tells you that the police dropped them by when they cleaned everything.

You wait for the elevator and make your way up to your floor. On apartment 608, there is a police notice, banning everyone from getting close to the crime scene. There are bullet holes and some bloody handprints on the walls, a blood splutters a bit too close to the height your arm is.

You shake your head trying to forget about it, and open your door. Once inside, you lock the door and look for your phone. Only to remember that it must be in your bag, in your car, where you dropped it when you tried to run.

You look at the clock on the wall that you always forget about, and realise you have 20 minutes to get ready if you want to make it time to work. So get at it.

Most of those 20 minutes, go into taking a shower. You feel dirty, mainly because you are, but also because you feel used. You think about Price and Kyle, handsome military men, they have probably visited countries you don't even know exist and they probably have a lover in each of them.

You are probably just another one, and you let them in so easily. They must have barely felt any satisfaction from such an easy catch.

You feel like crying for being so silly, but a voice in your head stops you. The voice in your head that picks you up whenever you fuck something up. Don't cry! Why would you cry?! They used you just as much as you used them! And they are not crying! So neither are you! You made a grown man cum on his pants by rubbing yourself a bit and an even grown-er man basically get on his knees to eat you out! So don't cry!

So you get out of the shower with another attitude, you are going to get a hold of the situation, you are going to get space between these men and yourself, and you are going to be just fine!

“Son of a bitch!” You exclaim when you see yourself in the mirror, if you had thrown yourself down the stairs there would be fewer bruises on your body. Well, not bruises, hickeys.

You huff getting out of the bathroom to get dressed, and then back to the bathroom to cover all the hickeys.

By divine grace, you make on time for work. You are exhausted, starving and if any of your coworkers spoke to you today just a bit out of tone, you would chew their arms off. But luckily, everything goes right.

At least, until you get back home, and the first thing you see when you get off the elevator, is a masked man standing in front of your door.

I guess it is a series now, I don't know where I'm going with it but there is still a couple of things I have thoughts about.

If you guys have any ideas or scenarios please, tell me hehe

And if you want me to tag you on the next part drop a coment 💗

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caffeinewitchcraft · 10 days

Text

The Hero and Hope 4/5

Okaaaay, so there's 5 parts instead of 4! I realized that the last part was over 6k words, so we're splitting it into two! The last part will still be posted next Friday, so this will keep us on track!

Summary: The picnic has an uninvited guest that you're uniquely suited to greet.

-------

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Didn’t think I’d see anyone able to catch Marie,” the Lord says, brows raised. His golden eyes track Isla across the garden and he whistles when she jumps to tag his former knight. “That was not within the capabilities of a Villager.”

Ivan scans the crowd around them. Most of the townsfolk are too far away to eavesdrop and the ones close enough to potentially hear are engaged in their own conversations. “Careful, Brennan. If the Director hears you speculate…”

“Yes, the Director,” Lord Brennan sighs. He brings his teacup to his lips, but doesn’t drink. He contemplates Director Sarah where she crouches with a glass of water near Annie. “You know this is the first time we’ve met?”

It’d been a fight to get Sarah to agree to today at all. Ivan chooses his words carefully. “Your predecessor did not have the sort of…kind interest you do.”

The former Lord’s interest Sarah shared with them was a lot more horrifying. There’s a reason that Isla at only fifteen years old is the eldest at the orphanage.

“That’s one way to put it,” Lord Brennan agrees. He settles back into his seat and sighs in satisfaction. He watches the children gradually grow tired of their game and drift towards the dessert table. He grins when the townsfolk naturally make room for them, a few of them even fetching treats from the center of the table for the littler ones. “See my people together? It was very good of me to lure you and Marie to my territory.”

“You gave us a castle,” Ivan says. They weren’t so much lured as bludgeoned with generosity. Some days it feels like they blinked and ended up standing amongst fine silk and filigree.

“It’s a manor as far as paperwork goes,” Lord Brennan says.

“It has buttresses.”

“A very fortified manor.” Lord Brennan finally sips his tea and sighs again. “This tea is from our fields, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“It’s delicious.” The full canopies of the trees enveloping the estate rustle in the wind. The sun shines warmly overhead. Lord Brennan takes another drink. Delicious. “The land’s come a long way since we ousted my father, hasn’t it? Plentiful harvests, an established trade route, a new school. If it weren’t for the demons, my work would be done.”

“I would prefer you had no work then,” Ivan says dryly.

“Me too.” Lord Brennan sets his tea aside and rubs his eyes. “Any updates?”

“None,” Ivan admits, frustration leaking through his words. His face is still amiable and the disconnect between his tone and his visage is jarring. “We investigated the wolf tracks in the woods and only found carnage. No signs of the demons themselves.”

“So they are demons?”

“Regular wolves wouldn’t be able to evade a squadron of your knights, my lord.”

“Neither would demon wolves,” Lord Brennan says. He rubs his chin, brow furrowing. “I don’t like what that implies. Any sign of larger foes?”

Ivan doesn’t want to discuss this here. Marie’s eyes are on him, sensing his rising distress. He smiles and waves to her. “Besides the horned rabbit migration?”

“Is it a migration?”

“Isla saw five within the first four weeks of summer,” Ivan says.

The Lord’s attention falls on the teenager. She’s patiently letting one of the other children – Hera? The one who’d curtsied to him like a little noble – weave flowers into her braid. He tries to imagine her fighting a horned rabbit and his lips thin. “I’ll call for reinforcements from the capital.”

“Marie and I can—”

Lord Brennan waves Ivan off. “No, no, I’ve asked too much of you already. Aren’t the two of you too busy in your retirement already? I thought you’d be settled with a child by now.”

“It’s not good to rush these things,” Ivan says as he has the last three times Lord Brennan has asked. This time it’s Ivan who sighs. “It took Marie and I a good few months to win Director Sarah over after our misstep.”

“Asking about Destinies, was it?”

“Implying we’d value any child less for not being a knight like us,” Ivan corrects.

“There seem to be a lot of unusual Destinies in the orphanage,” Lord Brennan says. He’s not an Identifier but he’s got a good eye. Though no one can know for sure until a child either develops their mark or comes into their power at fifteen, he’s seen more than a few signs of a Scholar, a Guardian, and a Teacher. Once again he finds his gaze being drawn back to Isla. She’s got a child under each arm and is running from Marie again, the game having resumed after their snack break. “That one is a Guard, at least. Nobody else would have physical abilities like that.”

Ivan ignores the Lord’s comment. “It’s been worthwhile getting to know them all.” His smile turns a little more genuine. “They’re all good kids.”

“Surely you and Marie have an inkling of who’ll be a good fit?” When Ivan doesn’t reply, the Lord clicks his tongue. “You can’t choose all of them.”

Ivan’s voice is a study in nonchalance. “Can’t we?”

Lord Brennan opens his mouth only for no words to come out. At length, he has to laugh. His knights do like to keep busy. “You’d need a castle.”

“You did give us one, my lord.”

“I suppose I did.”

The two men lapse into a pleasant silence. It is good to see the townsfolk this cheerful. This town is the furthest from Lord Brennan’s own castle and he rarely has a chance to visit. The first time he had had been very different. The people still bore the wounds of winter in gouged cheeks and brittle smiles. Now he sees the glow of health everywhere he looks.

He contemplates the Director once again. She’d been the only one back then to not seem pleased to see him ride in on his white horse. Even now he can feel the chill of her scrutiny as she stood defensively between him and the orphanage. None of that chill is present today. Her smile is as sweet as his tea while she tends to a scrape the little Scholar sustained in this round of tag. “Ms. Sarah is very pretty, isn’t she?”

“I know we can’t adopt them all,” Ivan blurts out. He doesn’t seem to have heard Lord Brennan. His gaze is turned towards his own inner conflict which is why he also doesn’t notice the blush dusting the Lord’s cheeks. “It wouldn’t be fair to them. Marie and I decided to adopt a child who would benefit from what little we can offer. Military arts and luck.”

“I don’t think you’re being fair,” Lord Brennan says with raised brows. “You and Marie offer a lot more than a Knight’s experience. Haven’t you shown that already in your actions?” He’s not aware of everything his former knights have done, but he’s heard plenty from the children today. He didn’t think Marie had the patience to teach anyone how to read.

Ivan’s hands fist. “It’s not enough, it’s not—the little boy. Josiah. He’s so smart. I don’t even know where to start with him and even Marie says that he’ll soon outpace her—”

“Well,” Lord Brennan says, “Neither of you are Teachers, true, but there is a school for that--”

“And Annie wants to know why bread rises and why the sun sets and how many seconds are in a day—”

“All kids are curious—”

“Hera staged a whole theater production for my birthday and all we could do was clap—”

Is he missing something? “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“We don’t know any actors or directors to introduce her to!” Ivan cries out. He quickly lowers his voice, but can’t hide the stress around his eyes. “What could we give to a child like her? Like any of them? Marie and I are out of our depth. It would be so much simpler if one was a Knight!”

The Lord tentatively offers, “If Isla’s a Guard--?”

Ivan gives a cry of distress that he barely capture in the palm of his hand. “Isla! That girl feels like my daughter already, but…she’s been through so much. She doesn’t need a father who teaches her how to fight or a mother who teaches her how to withstand a siege! She deserves to never have to fight again. What could we offer her? What could we possibly give to her she hasn’t already learned on her own?”

A light goes on in the Lord’s head. He takes in the festivities with new eyes. The town’s Baker, Blacksmith, Teacher… His friends have invited every possible parent they could in hopes of providing for the children in ways they felt incapable of doing themselves. As noble as that was…“Ivan, being a parent goes beyond the skills you can give a child. It’s more than fostering talent or an offering an apprenticeship. It’s—”

A horse’s scream drowns out the Lord’s next words.

Ivan is in front of Lord Brennan with his sword drawn before the horses and their blood-splattered riders even round the side of the castle.

-----.

You throw Annie and Josiah behind you the moment you hear the sound of hooves galloping towards the manor.

“Isla, what—” Josiah starts to ask and then cuts himself off as the innkeepers and their entourage burst into the party.

You smell blood before your eyes register the terrible red staining their fine clothing.

“ORCS!” Mr. Innkeeper screams over the frightened snorts of his horse. He stumbles down from his mount and staggers towards the Lord. “They overtook our carriage—please, my wife, she’s hurt—”

Mrs. Inkeeper is holding her side and seemingly barely holding onto the saddle horn. “Our guards won’t be enough to hold them off—”

“Inside,” Sarah hisses into your ear. She points after Hera who’s already shepherding the younger kids into the building. “Now.”

“—an army—”

“—fast—”

“—waiting for us—”

You move faster than you’ve allowed yourself since you arrived. This is no time to take care in hiding your abilities; there are roars coming from the forest unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. Your senses seem to dial up with your heartrate and you can hear the clash of steel against rock and flesh. You scoop Annie into your arms and leap after Josiah and Sarah.

Mr. Dallen’s face is pale as he ushers you all into the manor. He holds the door open for the townsfolk. The hall fills with the sounds of panic and sobs as fear washes through you like a tidal wave. There have never been orcs south of the mountains, there have never been demons bigger than a horned rabbit in the last twenty years, even when the Winter froze the river—

Mr. Dallen waves down Marie as she sprints to the large doorway. You think that he’s going to pull her inside to safety, but instead he thrusts her bow into her outstretched hands.

“Do not open these doors,” she commands. Behind her the knights are assembling into a formation, their Lord at the center. Ivan stands before them all, barking orders to ready their spears as the trees in front of them begin to sway. Marie pulls a dagger from under her skirts and slices the bottom half of her dress clean off. She kicks it away from her feet as she talks. “Take everyone to the basement—”

“Ma’am, the escape tunnel still isn’t cleared of debris—”

Marie swears so violently that half the townsfolk gasp. She grabs Mr. Dallen by the shoulder, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and her husband. “Then we will draw them away. The moment you think you can, run to the wagon. Get the children to—” She bites her lip. You can see the devastating truth flash through her mind. There isn’t anywhere to go. “Damnit. Bar the door and arm everyone you can.”

Mr. Dallen’s lips are bloodless as he nods. “My lady.”

Marie turns to everyone. Her voice is unlike anything you’ve heard come from her lips; it’s harsh and barking. A commander giving orders much like Ivan is doing outside. “Listen, everyone. We are in danger. Our best estimate is that 25 orcs are marching on the manor. There is no guarantee of survival. The moment this door is breached, it will mean the knights have failed. You must be prepared to fight. Do you understand?”

Twenty-five? Your hands ball into fists and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve heard of entire villages being wiped out by three.

“Then we’ll fight with the knights,” the Baker says. He pushes away from the center of the group and marches to the wall. He pulls down the crossed axes, keeps one, tosses the other to the Blacksmith. She catches it easily. “You’ll need everyone who can hold a weapon.”

Marie never voices her protest. You can see the strain of holding it back in her tense shoulders and her poignant silence. At long last, she nods. “You’re right. Stay behind the knights. They know how to handle the frontline better than you.”

There’s a flurry after that. The townsfolk divide in half. Those unable to fight slide back as those who can start scavenging for weapons. Mr. Dallen grimly pulls two long daggers from under his coat while pointing your neighbors to decorative swords, to ornamental spears, to the heavy coatrack just inside the parlor.

Grimly, you stride past Sarah, ignoring her hiss and darting hands. You can leave the weapons to the villagers, there’s a large knife on the dessert table you can use—

Marie slams a hand against your chest. You stagger back at the weight of the blow, breath knocked from your lungs. You’re more stunned than hurt as you gape at her.

“Children stay here,” Marie says. Her eyes narrow. “No exceptions.”

“But I’m—”

“We don’t have time to argue!” She pushes you further back, clearing the doorway for the armed villagers to run outside towards the knights. “You’re strong Isla, but this isn’t your fight. Stay here. Guard the door.”

The winter wind howls in your mind. You splutter. “But I—”

Marie spins away from you. “Director Sarah.”

Sarah’s arms slide around your shoulders. “Yes, lady.”

The closing of the door feels like a blow in itself. You stare sightlessly at the unyielding wood as your emotions rage. How could she? You’re strong, you can do more, you can help, you’re the one who kept everyone from starving—

“We need to barricade the windows,” Director Sarah is saying to the townsfolk. Half of them gaze at her uncomprehendingly. Her hands slide from your shoulders slowly, as if testing that you aren’t going to leap outside. When you don’t move, she lets go entirely. “Isla, move the furniture. Hera and Josiah, find something to tie it down with.”

You move on autopilot. There are other hands alongside yours as you push the sofa and armchairs in front of the windows, the townsfolk coming together to defend the manor. Hera darts between you all and pulls the curtains closed, reclaiming the curtain ties to use as rope. She’s got a grim determination in her eyes that looks uncomfortably familiar.

Your attention is on the noise outside. The orcs are slow, but loud. The roars change to squeals and bellows of challenge. Branches break and there’s a terrifying, splintering crash as a tree falls. Metal rings as the knights raise their shields. You can see it all in your mind’s eye, the knights in a defensive line across the length of the garden, the Lord securely in their center. Ivan is shouting about this being what they’ve trained for, that there are more of them than there are orcs, that this city won’t fall—

And the Lord is speaking too, quickly and quietly to Marie. The escape tunnel? Damnit, I should have sent more men—

It will be fine, Marie says. Her bow sings as she holds it ready and you know the way her muscles flex and her eyes narrow from experience. We won’t let a single one of those monsters past us. We won’t--

The knights bellow alongside the orcs. Your heart leaps and your focus is jarred. You’re standing in front of the door again, your hands balled at your sides. Everyone can hear the battle now and the townsfolk scream when the orcs’ battle cries shake the manor.

“Quiet!” Is that your voice? It is. Your eyes slide to the frightened faces behind you. “You’ll distract the knights.”

Sarah steps up alongside you. “And let the orcs know exactly where we are.”

The villagers quiet into aborted whimpers and muffled sobs.

The battle rages, louder and louder. Are orcs big? They sound big. When you close your eyes you can hear the way their feet pummel the earth. Do they have weapons? Metal clashes. A knight screams that their hides are too thick. The Lord shouts back to aim for their eyes. A table splinters, a bow sings, there’s a liquid gasp—

BOOM!

You slam your hands against the door, muscles straining as another blow lands against it. The wood convulses under your hands and the lock creaks. The villagers scream.

“No,” someone whispers. “No, they found us.”

You’re eight and the snow spirits are howling for blood. Your shoulders ache with the effort to hold the door against the wind. The cold is biting at your fingertips and there is an old hope dying in your chest--

Small hands slam against the door next to yours. Hera is snarling and swearing, Josiah is crying. Sarah is telling the kids not to worry, Isla and Hera and Josiah won’t let them in –

They’re here. You’re not alone.

“GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

The orc’s bellow isn’t nearly as loud as Ivan’s roar.

The blow you’re bracing for never comes. Ivan goads the orc to follow him, to leave the manor alone, to eat the man readily available to him—

It does not sound like the knights are winning now.

“My Lord!” Marie’s voice is strained.

“Do not fall back, they’ll corner us—”

“Who is that? Who is—”

The crack under the door lights with a sickly purple. The smell of ozone seeps into the manor. For a moment there is a silence so complete you think you’ve been struck. What was that? Magic? You’ve never seen magic before--

Screams rocket across the field. The Blacksmith’s screams. The Baker’s screams. Marie’s rage-filled howls.

“DEMON KING!”

Your Destiny burns.

---.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

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

Thanks for reading! If you'd like read the last part of Isla a week early, please consider supporting me on Patreon(X)!

#my writing #the hero and hope #fantasy writing #writeblr

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lemonlover1110 · 6 days

Note

can we get Toji reacting to reader's pregnancy

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Ever since finding out that you’re eating for two, you’ve found yourself distressed. Not because this isn’t something that you were planning– Well partially because of that, but mainly because you don’t know what your boyfriend thinks of having more kids. You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re expecting.

You don’t know how you’ve never had this conversation before, especially since you’ve started to talk about getting married. You know that he has a teenager, and probably he’s done with that part of his life. You also know that you’d be delighted to have kids, but if Toji wouldn’t want to have a child, you’re okay with that too. Your pregnancy changes everything though.

“Aren’t you two here early?” You ask, staring at the front door as Megumi and Toji walk in. Toji has a frown in his face while Megumi walks ahead, not a care in the world. You notice a stain on his school uniform and you tell him, “Put it in the washer, I’ll take care of it, Megs.”

“No, he can deal with the consequences of his actions in his little vacation.” Toji quickly speaks up, making you cock an eyebrow. You look back and forth between Toji and Megumi, hoping someone is going to fill you in. “Go to your room, Megumi. I can’t stand to look at your face anymore.”

“What happened?” You direct your attention to your husband since Megumi listens to his father and goes to his room. Toji sighs, walking over to you and pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t tell me he–”

“Got into a fight. Got called in the middle of work to deal with his ass– Hey, at least he won.” Toji can’t help but chuckle because even though he’s mad, part of him still feels oddly proud. His kid is somewhat of a troublemaker, but hey, at least the kid can fight. He says something that makes the thoughts of worry that you pushed to the back of your mind, come back and even stronger. “Just glad I don’t have to deal with this much longer.”

“Right.” You awkwardly laugh. You follow Toji to your living room, and take a seat beside him on your couch. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, you do this all the time, but Toji immediately knows that something is off. Your face wastes no time in telling on you.

“You okay? You look a little off.” Toji comments, throwing his arm over you and bringing you closer to him. You’re a little far today when you’re usually all over him. The man loves his personal space, but not when it comes to you.

“Weird day… Weird week.” You mutter the last part, but Toji hears it loud and clear. He kisses the top of your head before asking,

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” He proceeds to kiss the top of your head, and you bite down your lip. You have to tell him eventually, and you know that maybe this isn’t the right time to tell him, but he senses something is up.

“What do you think about having kids with me?” You speak a little fast, and if he wasn’t listening closely, he would have to ask you to repeat yourself. Toji takes a moment to think about it, acting perplexed. His silence is killing you and just when you’re about to repeat the question, he speaks up.

“Is this about the pregnancy test I found in the bathroom?” Toji mentions, and your eyes go wide. He’s known? He’s known all this time? He ends up kissing the tip of your nose before pecking your lips, “I’m happy with anything as long as I get to do it with you.”

“What about the comment that you made–” You begin and he interrupts you.

“Was about Megumi, I’m making sure this one isn’t a troublemaker.” Toji clarifies as his hand goes to your lower abdomen. “I’m excited about this. I was wondering how long it’d take you to share.”

“Next time, speak up, I was scaring myself to death.” You lightly slap his chest, and he chuckles. You’re glaring at him, while he smirks at you. “You’re in so much trouble right now. Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

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hecateslore · 2 months

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💗🎀

Simon and the twins, cause everyone forgets about the boys 😐

"Hi babies," Simon coos, looking a the very large newborns. You laid on the bed wearing the waist wrap from the hospital, playing with Novalynn's hair.

Simon ran his hand over Oliver's deep ash brown hair, "You might want to get their bottles ready," you suggest, smiling watching your babygirls eyes droop. Simon looks both of the boys over, watching them grunt and do little newborn punches.

Simon goes downstairs, the two four ounce bottle in one hand. He moves quickly, adding water and formula and then placing the bottles in the bottle warmer.

When he goes back up, He sees nova sprawled out in the middle of the bed, You, adjusting yourself so you can sit up and hold one of the twins.

He lifts Jude, giving him a kiss on the cheek, handing him off to you, who has a tiny little burping blanket on. Simon then grabs Oliver, and coddles him, getting ready to feed him.

"I think I warmed the bottles too high," Simon says, putting a drop of milk on his hands, "Yeah that's a little too warm," he says softly, "this one's good," you say watching Jude suckle on the bottles nipple.

you watch him grunt while he eats, exactly like his big sister used too. "Gosh they're big." You say snapping Simon out of his baby trance, "What?" he looks at you. "They're bigger than Nova was," You notice.

"Mhm." Simon mindlessly agrees going back to stare at his Olive boy.

Simon sat on the couch watching those same two boys wrestle on the floor, pinching and smacking each other around. They let out struggled grunts, flipping each other around. Both of their cheeks red. After a couple minutes they both lay flat on the floor.

"Dad, who'd you think could win in a fight, me or Oliver?" Jude asks randomly, "You're brothers, you're not supposed to fight." Simon snorts, "Let's just say..." he throws it out again, "Lets just say what?" you walk into the living room with Nova trailing behind you.

"Who'd win in a fight me or Oliver?" Nova lets out a loud cackle, Simon flicks her knee, "Nova." You comment and she gives you quick dap. "No she wouldn't-"

"Wanna find out?" she cocks a brow, "absolutely not!"Oliver gets up from the ground, He sits next to his dad, resting all his body weight on him. "Don't," you warn, Nova already up and going towards her youngest brother, "Come here Jude." She tempts, "You first,"

Oliver and Simon watch them two, "He's so dumb," Says oliver, "Mhm," Simon agrees watching his teenage girl toss around her younger brother,

"The coffee table!" you scream, watching Nova bump her brothers knee into it, knocking over the glass vase you'd just bought as a replacement for the one Simon and Jude broke two months ago.

#papa!Simon #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost x you #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod

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lnfours · 9 months

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daylight | l.n

summary: Hi lovely, you write Lando SO well😍 I’m not sure if you’re taking requests, but I can’t stop thinking about Lando and a drivers sister (if you have the time please). Maybe she’s visiting friends in London and they go on a night out. She gets super drunk, loses her friends, doesn’t know her way back to their place and goes to the only place she does know, Lando’s. Except he’s fast asleep and she wakes him up trying to politely break into his house and he’s like all sleepy and cute and looks after her and asks her to call him next time and he’ll pick her up Then the next time it happens, she actually calls him and it’s just fluffy af - from anon <3. also my requests for lando are open! feel free to send your ideas my way !

warnings: fluff, leclerc!reader, language, drinking, and overall lando just being protective

masterlist | ask box | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the night air was cold in london, making you regret your choice in attire for tonight as you hurried your footsteps on the sidewalk, heels clicking against the pavement.

you had decided that tonight was going to be a fun night out, you and your girls were going to go to the club, have a few drinks and a good time, but no. somehow, someway, you ended up getting stranded at the club, no one coming to get you or tell you where they went.

so, with a dead phone, you headed in the direction of the only place you knew how to get to: lando’s.

the two of you had been in a weird ‘will we, won’t we?’ stage for the last year or so. he was the one you were closest with. the one who, undeniably, made you feel like a teenager falling in love all over again.

you made the next right, ignoring the aching in your feet as you reached his front steps. the mclaren sitting in the driveway letting you know he was home. you knocked on the door, and after a few minutes with no noise on the other side, you huffed.

you reached into the flower pot on the step, grabbing the spare key to the front door. you put it in the lock and twisted it, letting out a sigh of relief when the lock clicked open. you pushed the door open softly, tossing the key back into the flower pot before stepping inside.

your heels clicked loudly on the hardwood floor and you immediately winced before you shut and locked the door behind you. you stepped out of your heels, becoming a deer in headlights when the lights turned on all of a sudden.

“y/n?” lando asked, placing the golf club against the wall. you gave him a tight lipped smile in return.

“sorry,” you said, “the girls left the club without me, my phones dead, and your house was the only place i knew how to get to.”

he furrowed his eyebrows, “you walked eight blocks from the club? alone, in the dark, and tipsy?”

you bit your bottom lip, “yeah, guess so.”

he ran a hand over his face, trying to fight off the thought of everything what could’ve happened to you, “just… please, please call me next time. i don’t care where you are, what time it is, nothing. i’ll always come get you.”

his words made your stomach do flips as he held out his pinky for you, making you smile as you locked your fingers together. he pulled you closer, letting you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“miss me?” you joked.

“mhm,” he said, “definitely didn’t miss you breaking into my house.”

you smiled up at him, “you definitely missed that.”

“whatever you say, love,” the smile still playing at his lips, “c’mon, let’s get you some clothes.”

you nodded, following him up the stairs and into his bedroom. he flipped on the light switch, making his way to his closet as he fished something out for you. he grabbed an older mclaren hoodie and some sweatpants, passing them to you as you sat on his bed.

“here you go,” he mumbled, clearly still sleepy, “you can sleep in here if you want.”

you nodded, heading towards the bathroom to change. you threw on the clothes he gave you, feet padding against the wooden floor as you pulled the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands. he opened the blankets as you climbed into bed next to him.

“thanks for letting me stay,” you smiled over at him, head resting against his pillow.

“didnt have a choice, you literally broke in.” he smiled back at you, reaching over and brushing a piece of hair from your face.

you rolled your eyes playfully, “then maybe you should hide your spare key better.”

“nah,” he scrunched his nose, “i think i might leave it there, yknow, for whenever you’re in town.”

you leaned into his touch, “i missed you.”

“i know,” a smug smile on his face, “i missed you too.”

“then kiss me,” you mumbled, grabbing the neck of his hoodie and pulling him towards you. he smiled as he situated himself over top of you, arms pinning your head to the pillow as he leaned down and brushed his nose against yours.

“missed me that bad, huh?”

“like crazy,” you breathed.

“and if your brothers know you’re here?”

“i don’t want to think about my brothers right now,” you mumbled, “just fucking kiss me, lando.”

he complied this time, cupping your face in his hand as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. his lips moved against yours and he sighed contently when your fingers ran through his messy curls.

the sound that fell from your lips was like music to his ears as his lips moved from yours and attached to your neck, “if you coming here means i get to see you in my clothes more often, then please come more often.”

you smiled, “race weekends not enough for you?”

“baby, i could never get enough of you.”

you smiled as he pressed more kisses to your neck, “lan,”

he hummed against your skin, letting you continue, “i love you.”

he stopped what he was doing, eyes meeting yours as he came back to be face to face with you. a bright smile sat on his face, his pupils blown, and curls a mess. he looked so pretty like this.

he rested his chin on your chest, “i love you, too.”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the sound of his phone ringing made him drop the towel he was drying his hair with, your name and photo lighting up his screen. he swiped the button over, pressing the phone to his ear.

“hello?”

“hi!” your slurred words echoed through the phone, making him smile. he could hear the group of girls in the background asking who was on the phone, “i’m on the phone with my boyfriend! shut up!”

he chuckled, “you okay, baby?”

“yeah, no i’m good! im great!” your voice was barely audible over the loud music, “the girls are heading to a different bar, but i’m drunk and i want cuddles,”

he chuckled, putting you on speaker as he put his shirt on, “i’m on my way.”

“you’re the best!” he could practically hear your smile as he jogged down the stairs, ignoring the questioning look from max on the couch. he tugged his shoes on, “i love you.”

“i love you, too, baby,” he said, “i’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

“okay,” you said, “see you soon.”

and he kept his promise, smiling as you walked out of the club. you spotted him leaning against the door of his car, smiling and bidding a goodbye to the rest of the group as they climbed into the uber to go to the next bar.

his hands found their home on your hips, yours wrapping around his neck, “hi,”

“hi,” he smiled, “hungry?”

you nodded, “starving.”

he took your hand into his, opening the door for you, “alright, c’mon.”

you sat down in the passenger side, letting him close the door for you before he got in on his side. he grabbed your hand over the center console, you pressed the back of his hand to your lips.

“i love you.” you mumbled against his skin.

“i love you, too, baby.”

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avocado-writing · 3 months

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Hey there, if you’re still doing requests for BG3... I'm terribly angry about something big and outside of my control at the moment. Could you let me know what you'd think the BG3 companions do if Tav started self destructing? Like Tav passing harsher judgments, snapping at neutral NPCs, or fighting more dangerously and recklessly with bad guys?

Oooo the angst possibilities! Fun! Going to write like you’re self destructing due to stress, and you’re picking unhealthy coping mechanisms. Here we go:

Astarion

at first probably thinks that it’s quite funny. We know he enjoys seeing a little bit of suffering.

but, the more it goes on, the more worried you can see him become.

this isn’t like you. He knows you by now. You’re… kinder than this, damn it.

he takes you to the side one day after he’s seen you be short with a friend.

“whats the matter?” “Nothing, Astarion.” “If you’re going to lie to me, darling, you’d better do a better job of it than that.”

you go to snap at him, fire on your tongue, and then something inside you breaks. You just start sobbing. Everything which has been weighing on your mind has finally become too much.

he isn’t good at comforting words, but he does hold you. Runs his hand up and down your back, and lets you know you he’s here for you whenever you’re ready to speak.

helps you centre yourself again, eventually. He loves you. He’ll do what he can to make things better.

Gale

Makes a couple of snide remarks about how you’re acting, suggesting maybe you be a bit kinder, but then he stops to reassess how you’re acting.

there’s something wrong. You’re pent up. Furious, but not with the people you talk to. They just happen to be the ones bearing the brunt of it.

he sees the injuries you nurse on yourself after battles too. You used to be a clever fighter. Now you are a reckless one.

takes you aside one night at camp and presents his findings very matter-of-factly, concluding that there must be something the matter. When he puts it so astutely, you know you have no chance of hiding from him.

tears slip down your face and he is there in an instant drying your eyes. Telling you there’s nothing to worry about. Reassuring you that “the great Gale of Waterdeep is on your side, we’ll find a way to work things out.”

he puffs his chest out, you chuckle and bury your face in the crook of his neck. Yes. You will find a way to work things out.

Wyll

When he first sees you acting out, as it were, he immediately intervenes.

he knows what it’s like to be under great levels of stress. He made his contact when he was a teenager, after all, and had to deal with all the fallout that happened consequently.

he takes you to the side, holds your hand tightly in his, gets you to look at him.

“i love you, you know that, yes? If there’s something the matter, you need only tell me.”

you begin to crack immediately. Damn this sweet man and his emotional intelligence. Why is he perfect.

you let him know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. You agree you’re not coping with it very well. He says he’ll help you however he can, but you need to stop being so unkind to yourself.

“you matter, my love. You deserve sweetness.”

holds you close, and you just stand there for a while, together. From then on whenever something is wrong, he is the first one you go to.

Karlach

Sees you snapping at a friend, jumps in.

“whoa, whoa, whoa! Soldier, where is all this coming from?”

you snap to tell her it’s none of her business, she wouldn’t understand… but then you see the hurt in her eyes and immediately feel awful.

“Oh gods, Karlach, I’m sorry…” your voice is wobbly, cracking a bit, and she cups your face in her warm hands.

“hey, hey. it’s okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

you blurt out all your feelings to her in one, long, run-on sentence. She can’t help with a lot of the personal stuff, but she can listen, and she holds you to her chest and rocks you a little. Being engulfed by her embrace is very comforting.

”I’ve got you, babe, eh?” You know she does. For better or for worse.

Lae’zel

She sees the vicious way that you’ve been acting in battle. Strange, usually it’s her attempting to take the big hit, not you. She can take it, you can’t.

She finds you when you’re tending to your battle wounds. Sits down. Stares at you until you instigate conversation.

“what?” “You are not acting like yourself.” “Oh? And how would you know what that is?”

you’re just saying these things to be hurtful, but she’s stalwart. You’re deflecting.

She tells you she’s been enamoured with you long enough to see how you usually are. That you’re kinder, smarter. You’re lapsing into these feelings out of some sort of self-preservation, but you don’t need to.

”if there is something weighing on your mind, share it. I am here to help ease your burdens.”

you don’t love to cry in front of her but that is remarkably… sweet. It breaks you a bit.

You promise to stop being so foolhardy, especially in battle. She says that must be for the best, lest you get rended in half.

“Hey!” but she’s smiling. Your heart swells as you realise she’s trying to make you laugh.

Shadowheart

Lets you get quite far down the burrow of self-destruction before she does anything.

once again, she’s loyal to the lady of loss. Nothing you’re doing is exactly alarming to her.

but it does get worse and worse… she sees you snapping at friends, being harsher to passers-by, and she’s constantly having to patch you up after battle due to your wounds.

eventually one day you snap at her, and that’s her limit.

“I know something’s causing you stress but it isn’t me. I’m trying to help. So you can either pull your head out of your arse or I’m leaving this tent.”

the two of you have a little squabble, but it quickly becomes obvious your heart isn’t in it. Your anger turns to sadness. You collapse in tears and she pulls you to her without a second thought, holding you close.

despite her sharran devotion, she starts whispering how things can get better, how they will change. How the first step is letting people in.

her hand wound throbs as she comforts you. But in this moment she knows she’d pick you every time.

things are easier from then on, knowing she is with you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x you #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel x you #astarion x tav #shadowheart x tav #lae'zel x tav #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #wyll ravenguard x reader #karlach x tav #karlach x reader

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littlelionwriting · 3 months

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Male Companions and Parenting

Here is some headcanons for the male companions (and Zevlor) for Baldur's Gate 3. This is a continuation of the Pregnancy headcanons I wrote previously. If you want to request anything just send me a DM!

Zevlor

His son is a spitting image of him except for his eyes, his eyes are your eyes.

When he holds him for the first time his son's tail wraps around Zevlor's wrist and he feels like his heart will burst.

He's a strict parent but he makes sure that his child knows that they are loved.

He wants to be there for everything, every step, and every word. He wants to be involved.

If his son starts to become interested in weapons or fighting it gives Zevlor a heart attack. He doesn't want that life for his son.

But seeing how important it is to him, seeing how his eyes light up when he is fighting, Zevlor makes sure he is properly trained. Nothing but the best.

He will constantly tell his son how proud he is of him.

"You should have seen him today, Sweetling. He was great. He will be amazing." Zevlor sat on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a grin on his face. "Our family is amazing."

Wyll

When he holds his daughter for the first time, he feels like laughing. His wonderful, beautiful daughter who looks like the perfect mix of the two of you.

He is the dad who has tea parties and helps paint her nails.

Wyll would gladly take her with him when he goes to train, showing her how to properly hold a (dull) blade the moment she is big enough.

He cannot tell her no; she doesn't even bother to ask you for something when she can go to Wyll instead and get what she wants.

The first time he sees his teenage daughter in a proper evening gown for a ball his heart drops cause he knows she isn't his little girl anymore.

He's not the best dancer but he does his best to teach her how to show up everyone on the dance floor.

"Darling, do you see her? Doesn't she look marvelous?" Wyll's eyes go from the dancing figure of your daughter with some noble's son to you as he takes his hand in yours. "Maybe we should take the hint and dance ourselves."

Astarion

His handsome son with his silver hair and red eyes but your skin color.

He is the only one who can get your son to stop crying as a baby. Not even being held by you can quiet the wailing child.

His son may be a troublemaker from the moment he could walk but Astarion would only encourage it. Very much an 'As long as you don't get caught' way of parenting.

Would have no qualms about teaching him how to pick locks or how to use a dagger. One must always be prepared according to Astarion.

He does not like his child being out at night without one of you, even as he gets into his teenage years. If he isn't home by sundown Astarion is ready to go out searching for him.

Astarion makes sure to encourage his son in anything and everything he wants to do. He would gladly buy the world if that is what was asked of him.

"He did well today, Lover. You would have been proud of him." You hummed softly in acknowledgement, not looking up from your book as Astarion walks over to where you sit in front of the first. He smiles before bending over and laying a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Of course, he's your son."

Halsin

When your twins are born Halsin swore they would ask for naught. Holding them both in his large arms to his chest as they slept.

Your son looked like you but had Halsin's hair and eyes while your daughter looked like a clone of Halsin just with your eyes.

Halsin learned early on to keep an eye on them, from the moment they could walk they were running off into the forest. They would often come home covered head to toe in mud.

He makes sure to teach them to respect all creatures, even the gross and icky ones.

It is not uncommon to find one of them on his shoulders. In fact, they often would fight over who got to ride on his shoulders so he had to make them take turns.

His son takes after his father, bringing home random critters much to his father's amusement.

His daughter is on the quiet side, liking to stay by his side and enjoy nature more than the company of people.

Would be over the moon when his daughter felt the call to being a Druid and his son a Ranger.

"You are so proud, Halsin." You walked to his side, taking his large hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand.

"More than you could ever know, my Heart."

Gale

Gale loves his daughter from the moment she is born but he is not a baby or toddler guy.

When he is left alone with her for the first time as a baby you come home to both of them crying.

He does his best which includes taking said daughter with him to any lectures he gives and when she babbles, he acts as if she is answering or giving input.

"Excellent point, Darling! Now, to continue..."

He makes sure she is dressed properly for whatever the weather and makes sure she is always in style.

Tara is her favorite babysitter hands down and Tara is more than happy to follow the young Miss around.

The first time she tells you and Gale she has a crush on someone you have to hold Gale back from threatening the poor soul with a fireball.

Gale makes sure to teach your daughter how to be proper and that includes how to rip someone to shreds with their words.

Gale puts a huge emphasis on education, he will make sure that she has the best tutors and will even tutor her himself if she asked.

"She is doing simply amazing, Dearest. You would never guess she has only been studying for a few years. I say she will soon surpass all the others in her class!" You gave your husband a soft smile as he continued to sing your daughter's praises, happy as can be.

Want to buy me a coffee or commission a short story? Find me here: https://ko-fi.com/littleleonlion

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watchmegetobsessed · 10 months

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ILLICIT TEMPTATION

A/N: italyrry is back in action and so am i.

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: A business trip to Italy brings more than just professional success. One hot afternoon, deliciously cold water and a series of unfortunate events bring out the illicit temptation you both have been fighting.

PART II. TO ILLICIT THOUGHTS

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry Styles will take any opportunity to travel to Italy. Vacation, just a layover, family gathering, he is always open to visit the country he almost considers his second home.

This time, he is on an active quest to expand his business, he’s been negotiating with some possible Italian partners for months now and they seem to be heading towards the finish line. To officiate the deal Harry has headed over to Bolsena, a wonderful town that resides on the coast of Lago di Bolsena, a lake of volcanic origin. And though he usually travels alone when it comes to business, this time he is accompanied by you.

The trip is set to last four days, most of it spent with the Trevisani brothers who are looking forward to do business with Harry in the future. The first two days have been hectic, brunch with Fabio and Vittore, meetings, lunch at some luxury restaurant’s terrace, even more meetings, then business dinner and it all started again the next day.

But today is finally the first day you get to have some free time. Though the first half of the day was still filled with business, now it’s after lunch time and you finally get to go to the beach you’ve been eyeing from your hotel room’s balcony since you’ve arrived.

You agreed with Harry to meet down there, because he had to take a quick call, so you’re the first one to reach the sandy beach with your beach towel under your arm and the bikini you bought especially for this trip under your sundress. In your left there’s a rockier section and it appears to be less crowded so you opt to occupy a spot there. You put down your towel and then take off your dress, enjoying the warm breeze on your skin as you get rid of your slippers and head over to the water.

It’s so refreshing, your muscles relax the moment you sink into the water so it’s up to your chin and then you dip under the surface fully. You wish you could just float around here for the rest of the trip.

A few feet away from where you left your things there’s a rock that reaches over the water, like a natural jumping board. A group of teenagers are jumping into the water, doing flips in the air, the glistening water splashing everywhere once they fall into the lake.

You’re not that big of an adrenaline junkie, but it seems like a lot of fun, so you decide to give it a try and go for a jump. Swimming over you get out of the water and follow their route over a rocky part to arrive to the jumping spot. For a while, you stop at the back, just watching them jump in one after the other before moving closer to the edge, but there’s still enough place that they can keep jumping in while you stand there, collecting your courage.

Right before you’re about to finally take the leap you look around, as if your sixth sense had been activated and when you glance over to your towel you spot Harry.

And it all goes downhill from there.

Harry looks mouthwateringly good on an average day in the office when his body is covered from neck to toe. It’s hard even then to keep your thoughts at check, but what you’re seeing right now can only be described as a violent act against females.

Add the salty air of Italy to the equation, a slight, delicious tan over his inked body that’s usually covered by his designer clothes, a chunky, luxurious pair of sunglasses and… the absolute shortest swimming trunks you’ve ever laid your eyes on, but it’s so low on his hips as he is adjusting the waistband that his V-line could be seen from even across the lake, it’s so delicious, any sane woman would lose their mind over it, then there are those chiseled abs, his bulging pecks and the unruly curls on top of his head…

It makes you lose more than just your mind. Literally.

Because when Harry looks up and he smiles your way you lose your balance and fall right into the water in a way that’s most likely anything but gracious or sexy.

The water closes above you and there’s a moment of shock, but you recover quickly, swimming upwards until your head is above the surface again.

“Fuck,” you cough, kicking underneath the water to keep you floating and you squint your eyes before opening them, but maybe you should have just kept them closed, because the next thing you see is Harry swimming towards you.

“Hey, you alright?” he reaches you and you feel his hand wrap around your upper arm to help you keep you up and his touch sends a wave of shock down your spine instantly.

“Y-yeah,” you breathe out and then you make another mistake.

It’s hard to keep yourself floating when your heart is hammering in your chest and your nervous system is all messed up from the sight you just saw moments ago. Your hands move before you could even think twice and you find yourself holding onto his broad shoulders.

The feeling of his soft, warm skin under your touch and the hard muscles underneath waves goodbye to the last bit of your sanity.

“S-sorry,” you gasp, pulling your hands back fast, but it makes you dip under the water again, so Harry reaches for you and pulls you up, curling an arm around your waist and your body goes into full shock when you feel yourself pushed up against you in the cold water, your hands coming to rest on the base of his neck as he keeps you both up.

“Please don’t drown on a business trip, that wouldn’t look too good,” he jokes and you manage to get a laugh out, but it sounds suffocated, because it feels impossible to fill your lungs when your smoking hot boss’ body is melted against yours in the water.

“Okay,” you breathe out, looking into his eyes that are covered by his sunglasses, so you can’t tell where he is looking.

That’s his luck. Because right in this moment, Harry can’t decide if he wants to stare at your wet lips, your tits pressed against his chest or your widened eyes, framed with long eyelashes glued together because of the water dripping from them.

So his gaze keeps moving between these three things behind the cover of his shades.

“Let’s move to a more shallow part,” he suggests, but he has ulterior motives.

It’s not that he wants to let go of you, hell no! He would do anything to keep you pressed up against him for hours and he even thinks about having your legs wrapped around his waist and that’s exactly that causes the problem, because he can feel himself getting hard and the last thing he needs is for you to discover his erection.

You nod and let go of him, putting some safe distance between the two of you and Harry lets you swim ahead towards the shore. He is raking his head for anything that could help him regain control over his rather hard situation. Slowly, but he finally succeeds and he can feel himself calming down just as you reach a more shallow part. You both stand and emerge from the water and Harry catches a glimpse of your bikini clad body, the crystal clear water is dripping from your curves and in a split second, he is hardening again.

He is just about to drop back into the water to hide his erection when you step on a rock and lose your balance, falling backwards, straight into Harry’s arm.

You gasp as his arms lock around your waist, keeping you from falling into the water ant potentially hurting yourself, but this also means that your ass is now pressed against his crotch… which means that his hard cock is now wedged comfortable between your ass cheeks.

For a moment Harry is sure whoever is up above, they are playing a cruel game with him. Because seeing you in a bikini was already a burning temptation, then having you in his arms in the water and those illicit thoughts invading his mind about how it would feel to have your legs around his waist was pure torture, but this… this is something he will surely think about in the evening when he’s alone in his hotel room, his hand wrapped around his leaking cock…

He considers the chances of you not realizing his dick is pressed against your ass, but judging from the way your body has stiffened, there’s no way you didn’t notice.

You definitely did. You feel every inch of him, you feel how thick and rock hard he is and you think about how it would feel like if he was inside you right now.

Harry clears his throat behind you, his arms still around your waist.

“Are you alright?” he asks and his mouth is right next to your ear, his hot breath is tickling your neck and goosebumps cover your skin from head to toe.

Your voice is gone, all you can do is nod, but you’re still not moving.

“Y/N?” he speaks up again.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna let you go now.”

And let’s not talk about how my cock just sat between your ask cheeks for a whole minute, he adds mentally.

You nod and put your weight back onto your feet as you pull away from Harry, his arms fall from around you and he moves back quickly a few feet so the water reaches above his hip, covering the bulge in his shorts.

“I-I think I’m gonna… head back to my room,” you stutter, only daring to look at him for a split second.

“Okay.”

“I’m gonna take a nap,” you add and Harry nods.

“See you before dinner. Fabio wants to take us out for drinks after,” he reminds you.

“Great. S-see you later,” you clear your throat and rush out of the water as fast as you can without tripping again.

You gather your stuff and head to the stairs that lead up to the hotel, but allow yourself one last glance back. In the water, you spot Harry swimming further in the lake and the feeling of his erection pressed up against you invades your mind again, making you run up the stairs, taking two steps at once and you don’t stop until you’re locked up in your hotel room. Your bikini is still dripping wet, but between your legs it’s not just because of the swimming.

You strip and then stand under the massive walk-in shower, cold water running down you as you lean against the tiled wall, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened, but it’s impossible and the next thing you know is that you have two fingers buried inside your pussy and you’re chanting Harry’s name as you chase your release.

Fuck, you think when you’ve come, tonight will be your personal Hell.

READ PART III. NOW: ILLICIT ACTS

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ma1dita · 4 months

Text

crazy little thing

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he spends all his drachmas to make you smile. Sometimes, the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite herself. Everyone’s tired of you two dancing around each other. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: lil valentines day special though im working on more est. relationship fluff after this!! happy season 2 renewal babies

(posted 2/9/24 unbetaed)

—

“Come on, you gotta admit—it’s kinda funny!”

Luke is met with blank stares at the camp store after he places a few drachmas onto the folding table in front of the Apollo kids. They’re not sure if he’s trying to convince them, or himself.

Because yeah, that’s the excuse he goes for, wanting to spend his savings on having them sing to a certain head counselor instead of admitting his blatantly obvious feelings, so if you ask Lee Fletcher and his half-siblings, it’s kind of pathetic.

“What do we look like, a traveling mariachi band, Castellan?” he deadpans, watching the usually confident boy scratch the back of his neck with his face red like someone who’s been sitting out in the sun for too long.

“I’m not saying to follow her around all day or whatever, just pick a random time to sing a song and catch her off-guard,” he insists, before meeting the judgmental look of one of Lee’s younger siblings.

Lee chuckles, ruffling his sister’s hair before looking at Luke quite seriously, “She’s a good friend. You’re gonna have to pay us more than that. Special song for a special lady after all.”

The son of Hermes knows he’s gonna regret this sooner or later, but proceeds to throw the rest of his meager earnings onto the table. He has other ways of being resourceful anyway, the box of chocolates he nicked from behind the store counter feeling heavy in his jacket pocket.

“Right…she’s just a friend.”

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides as he stands there, feeling a little stupid.

Lee’s little sister scoops up the coins from the table, her raised eyebrows and light aura mirroring that of her older brother.

“What song were you thinking?” she asks, “Gotta make sure I know it if I’m singing it to your…friend.”

The 18-year-old boy tugs at his dark curls, getting more embarrassed and wanting to retreat with every minute that passes, but he’s never been one to back down from anything–swordfights, monsters, capture the flag, but this—trying to impress you...is a whole different story somehow.

Why are feelings so damn complicated?

It feels like being at the butt of a joke, or more accurately—at the sharp edge of a sword, and Luke never lets his fights end in a draw.

“You guys got it covered. Just…surprise me too, I guess,” he sighs, walking off without finishing his sentence. He wishes he could pray a little harder to his dad for luck, even if he’s unsure of what exactly he’s wishing for (or if his dad will even listen).

“Castellan’s hopeless. You think he knows it yet?” the girl asks her brother, to which Lee laughs.

“I don’t think she does either, even though everyone else can see right through them. The new bets are on who’s gonna break first. Chiron’s been keeping track, but don’t tell Mr. D.”

If Luke wants a show, they’ll make sure he’ll get his money’s worth—and hopefully, it’ll push you two along faster. Lee bet on you two getting together before the summer after all, and he’ll be damned if he loses to Clarisse.

—

Valentine’s Day might be the day of love, but for you, someone who’s single (not by choice), and heavily busy with making sure people aren’t so…enamored in public (you’ve lost count of the reports you’ve written out due to indecent behavior this morning alone)---this just feels like another Wednesday, except with more hormonal teenagers with uncontrollable urges than usual.

Oh, the joys of being the daughter of the camp director, also known as everyone’s favorite narc.

Honestly, love can suck it. With this much love in the air, you can feel it suffocating you like a plastic bag over your head.

That’s an uncontrollable urge. Too much?

Maybe Silena was right, you do need to open yourself up more to romantic opportunities. But if you have to watch another person swap spit and get pawed at like they’re the last dinner roll at the table….You might commit arson and set this place ablaze.

You just didn’t understand why people had to go all out today of all days. Shouldn’t love be shown year-round? Though you were a person of theatrics and enjoy a good show, it is amazing how much grandiose displays of affection make you cringe. It felt very performative, instead of genuine, and you would know, you’re the best actress at camp. You’ve acted out stories before, knowing all of the greatest romances and tragedies by heart. And you pride yourself on being a decent teacher to the campers, but for some of them, love still translates to a bad rendition of a ballad they heard on the radio.

Nothing gets past you at this point.

But that sucks too sometimes, you know?

Multiple failed flings and a heartbreak or two weigh down on you on days like this one, as you’re stuck being a bystander to outlandish displays put on by the Aphrodite kids being put to work. Love is their domain anyway, and yours…makes you feel a little less undesirable. Each demigod has their own strengths and weaknesses, but perhaps in the name of love, some of them don’t know how to take a hint. Several forgettable prose readings, a Sparknotes version of Eros and Psyche, and too many red roses to count have you reeling from exhaustion and a bit of disgust—-and it’s only lunchtime.

So yeah, maybe you’re a little jealous; they could call you Nemesis at this point.

The only flowers you got today were from the little kids from along the path to the strawberry orchard, and though it’s sweet—the human side of you misses affection.

Devotion.

To be a daughter of Dionysus meant to deal in extremes, obsession or nothing, and there are very few people who can handle that. Always being too much to handle, or uninterested as a defense mechanism. Perhaps that’s what scares admirers away.

That, or the fact that Luke Castellan is always attached to your hip. To be honest, you’ve always preferred it that way—the both of you working as a pair always gets things done faster around camp and he brightens your mood, whether you admit it or not.

But you two are just friends.

Really good friends who look for each other in crowded rooms, hands constantly brushing against the other for comfort, and able to pick up where the other one leaves off. Usually he’s the first person you see in the morning, and the last person you say goodnight to. You know how he likes his coffee and he cuts your apples for you as you two sit together in your unassigned seats in the dining pavilion. You watch each other’s workshops and if one of you is missing, everyone knows to ask the other to get an answer.

Right? That’s totally normal coworker/friend behavior.

If you were ever given immortality, perhaps they’d make you the goddess of denial.

You’re sweeping up confetti from the dining hall floor after an uncoordinated excuse of a flash mob was performed for one of the Demeter kids…and not to sound like a heinous bitch, but maybe next time they should use something biodegradable…or less messy. Sighing deeply, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you look up, Luke’s standing there with two full plates of food.

“Take a break, trouble. No one’s paying you overtime,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes as you put the broom aside.

“No one’s paying me at all…” you groan, before taking the plate out of his hands and knocking your head against his shoulder in thanks. He snickers as his hand brushes the small of your back, tickling your spine as he leads you to sit at a table.

“Just another holiday. You know how it is.”

“It’d be nice to have a night off though. Sometimes I regret taking up the position,” you mumble through spoonfuls of soup. He throws his large hand over your shoulder, kneading some tension from your trapezius. Head jerking along with the movements, you giggle as soup dribbles off your spoon, which makes his lips quirk into a small smile. Being around you felt so thoughtless and easy that if you told him to jump off a bridge he’d do it without question, which should be more concerning—the hold you have on him is irrevocable. Feelings are way too difficult for his teenage brain to comprehend at this stage. It’s easier to wash dishes with lava or fight off a dragon (bad example, he knows, but there’s something about you that already makes him feel like he’s losing before anything’s even happened).

Luke is someone who fights until the end, a soldier who’s always trained and so ready that sometimes it makes you wonder what war he’s preparing for. Infatuation, or the scarier, four-letter word was not something he was ever briefed on.

“No, you don’t. You’re a control freak,” he says with a grin.

Luke watches you play with the pendant on your necklace, the dragon scale he fashioned into your favorite accessory glinting in your hand. Running your fingers back and forth over the smooth surface, your other hand puts the spoon down and you place your head on his shoulder. He thinks if he had to describe the four-letter word on the tip of his tongue, he’d tell whoever’s asking about the way you kissed his healing cheek after you both left the Garden of Hesperides. More than a year later, Luke is still unable to find the right words even if the weakness has made a home in his heart with your name written all over it.

“I swear if I have to hear another person croak out a lovesong I might just drown myself in the Long Island Sound,” you scoff as his fingers trace circles onto your waist.

There’s a low strum of a guitar that reaches your ears and your forehead meets the cool surface of the table as you shut your eyes and grumble. It’s Lee and his half-siblings, beginning to walk through the hall seconds away from singing until they see Luke shaking his head and dragging his finger across his throat to please, gods, stop. The Apollo kids swivel and 180, walking out of the hall as the music stops dissonantly, rolling their eyes and dragging their feet.

“That was quick,” you say inquisitively as your head pops up from the table to see Luke looking off in the distance.

“Heh…I think they were just practicing or something…”

He then had to run off and pay them more drachmas for the inconvenience.

Fucking hustlers.

—

The sun sets quickly on Camp Half-Blood since it’s mid-February, and Luke finds you trying to calm your nerves as you look at the mess of glitter and paper mache that covers the arts and crafts hall from floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe this!” you say in disbelief as you look at Luke, and he takes the can of Redbull out of your shaking hand.

“There’s just no fucking way everyone decided to use glitter. It’s everywhere! I’m—CONNOR, PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN!”

Luke sighs as he holds his hand out for his younger brother to give up the craft scissors, which he relinquishes with a mischievous grin.

“Guys, go find trouble somewhere else,” Luke mutters, pushing his head away, and where Connor goes, Travis quickly follows, tossing a canister of glitter back at him and not knowing it was still open.

“Oops.”

Immediately, the both of you are showered in iridescent particles, floating over your heads and stuck in your hair as the older Stoll brother looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“You've already got trouble anyway,” he says teasingly, and this asshole winks at Luke before bolting out the door.

The room is silent now, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, before speaking, “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Luke. I might just fucking kill him.” You'd say more but your eyes are shut as you try not to breathe in glitter, and then the sound of the doorknob rattling catches your attention. Luke is standing there, finally faced with a door he can’t open, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance–but the effect isn’t as menacing as it should be when he’s covered in red and pink sparkles.

“Not if I get to him first, the little bastard.”

“Just open the door,” you say panicked, running over and forcing his hands off the doorknob.

“I can’t if you won’t let me do it!” He grits, elbowing you and trying to unlock the door with both his inherited gift and brute strength.

“What kind of demigod even are you? Lockpicking is supposed to be your thing!”

“Well OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not working, now is it, trouble?”

Luke finishes off the rest of your energy drink before throwing the can over his shoulder and he swears he can hear you cuss at him under your breath as you berate him about the mess, so he chooses to focus on busting the door down instead of looking at the glitter stuck in your eyelashes and thinking about how the idea of being stuck in a room with you makes him feel weak at the knees. Through the window, his eyes meet the group of Apollo kids staring at the predicament you two are in (and the barricade of chairs the Stoll brothers put in front of the door). He sighs, and Lee’s little sister flips him off as they start to walk away again, instruments in tow.

“You gonna charge him again?”

A tiny Will Solace looks at his elders for guidance as they walk along the path. As one of the youngest in the bunch, he especially idolizes anything his half-siblings do, going along with whatever they see fit.

“No, but we’re close enough to the archery range that I might just shoot them through their hearts myself. Eros and Aphrodite themselves are pretty much begging us to,” Lee grumbles.

“Why are we doing this again?” Will babbles, and his half-sister grabs his hand to help him walk faster.

“A crazy little thing called love. You’ll understand it better someday, kid.”

—

Thankfully, it all starts winding down after dinner. Luke finds you leaning against a tree flipping through your clipboard during the camp sing-along, so he tugs at your elbow to get your attention.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You look at him, slotting your pen behind your ear as you notice faint glitter particles still dotted along his cheeks. As your lips pull into a small smile, you say, "I still have a few things to do after this, don't you?"

"Cleared your schedule for the night," he mumbles, and whether it's the glow of the bonfire or he's actually blushing, a teasing expression crosses your face as you step closer and cross your arms at him.

"You cleared my schedule for the night. How on earth did you do that?"

Instead of a proper reply, he grabs your hand, tugging you out to the docks near the lake.

"Don't worry about it."

He's not going to tell you that he owes Chris and Annie a few favors before the end of the month to make up for the night shift they ended up taking. Instead, you both sit cross-legged at the edge of the dock, a gentle breeze brushing at your clothes and for the first time today, you're able to just exist.

"I hate Valentine's Day," you suddenly say, looking up at the night sky, and he's watching you closely as the gentle shine of the moon casts a cool glow on your face. Luke cringes at your statement, thinking he's already thrown away his shot.

"Why's that?"

"Tell me something Luke, am I unlikable? Like, is there anything wrong with me?"

He looks at you like you've told him you’re secretly a cyclops.

“The fuck? How many times do I have to tell you that everyone thinks you’re great?"

You don't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt, "I don’t want to be great, I want to be loved!" Reeling back a little, you lean back on your hands to create some distance.

“Sorry... that was a lot, and I’m just...wanting to be noticed. It's nice to have people's attention sometimes, you know?”

You’ve got all of mine, he thinks, realizing he never stood a chance at fighting it—this four-letter feeling you give him is the first and only battle he’ll back down from, and you're the only person he’ll wholeheartedly surrender to.

In short, he’s fucked.

"I always notice you." He pulls out a dented box of chocolates from his jacket pocket, opening it up for the both of you to share, and the look of amusement on your face makes him glad that at least one thing somewhat went to plan today, even if the chocolate truffles are a bit smushed. You’re popping one into your mouth and his dark eyes follow the trail of your fingers to your mouth, feeling his heart beat a bit faster.

But then you both hear the soft strum of a guitar from near the trees, and the two of you turn to hear some of the Apollo kids singing beautifully along the coastline.

I'll be seeing you, in all the old, familiar places...That this heart of mine embraces...

You gasp, grabbing Luke’s arm to push yourself up so that the both of you can turn and face a small group of your closest Apollo friends singing to the both of you. Luke’s eyes soften further when he feels you grab his hand and squeeze, leaning against his shoulder as you listen.

“Did you do this?” you mumble, still entranced by the performance.

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

And you do, in the way that he loves—a bit crazy and too loud, and it’s perfect.

I’ll always think of you that way…I’ll find you in the morning sun….

Whether it’s fireflies or Will bouncing light off the water to look like small, glowing candles, Luke can’t tell—he’s too busy watching your lips pull into a smile so confectionery his sweet tooth starts to ache. The little kid was never good at archery like his other half-siblings, but as your eyes shimmer under the ambient lights, you think his added romantic gesture shot you straight through the heart.

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you, Luke Castellan,” you whisper, and it couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“No, you don’t.”

His eyes flicker to you again, but you’re already looking back at him.

“I don’t.”

And when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon…but I’ll be seeing you…

It’s quiet now, and you’re unsure of where the Apollonian ensemble disappeared to but instead of worrying about if they’ll make it back before curfew, you stand there in front of Luke with your guard down.

Getting a little closer than he expected, your noses brush before you pull the slightly crushed wildflowers from your jean pocket, the only physical reminder you’ve kept from today, and tuck them into his jacket pocket, sitting right above his heart.

“Thank you.”

Luke doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he feels your lips gently kiss the marred skin on his right cheek, the blemish having an uncanny resemblance to a stroke of lightning; it serves as a reminder of his weakness. The lines blur as his eyes close to savor it and he doesn’t know if weakness is your kisses or his scar—but he is vulnerable to it all the same, realizing there’s a crack in the otherwise perfect persona that he’s worked so hard on. When his eyes open again, his Achilles’ heel has taken human form.

—

“This has got to be cheating,” Clarisse grumbles as she watches from the distance, hidden behind the trees.

“It’s not cheating if I’m winning. Silena’s gonna get a kick out of this,” Lee chuckles, ushering everyone back towards the cabins. It’s a bit harder to do this in the dark as they try to be quiet and not interrupt whatever will happen next between their favorite counselors.

“Well lucky for you, your gifts are cute and romantic, what am I supposed to do? They fight enough!”

“That’s what got them into this mess in the first place. Come on, curfew’s in 10. We’ll find out which of us wins the bet soon enough,” Chris mutters, pushing them along back onto the main path.

“Easy for you to say, Rodriguez, you live with Luke!”

“Would I ever lie to you, La Rue?” he says with a mischievous grin, and the Apollo kids giggle at the irony.

—

“My body ages,

my anger burns into a seam.

I am so annoyed by love

and still it comes.”

-Kate Baer

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#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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misserabella · 2 months

Text

puppy love pt.2

shane mccutcheon x fem! reader

pt.1

summary; shane had showed you real pleasure. but now she was just a mere ghost, haunting you.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!!!, heavy use of drugs and alcohol, hookups (r has sex with another girl), fighting, teasing, tension!!, groping, piercings, tit playing, nipple sucking (both receiving), kinda switch shane but goes back to being dom, oral sex! (shane receiving), hair pulling (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), hickeys, making out, dirty talking, praising, use of good girl, cum eating, choking (r receiving), orgasm delay (r receiving), scissoring, multiple orgasms, breeding kink??…

something you should’ve expected from shane mcutcheon was that she would run away. but against your better judgement you still had hopes that she wouldn’t. that this would have meant something. silly of you to think it would.

she had made you cum. she had fucked you. she had showed you what real pleasure felt like and then she had dipped.

left you there for you to drown in your thoughts. and in alcohol.

“woah, woah. take it easy.” your friend charlotte, from the group you’ve gone out partying, tried to stop you from taking another swing from your drink. of course, that was an uneasy task.

you hadn’t been this off tracks since your teenage years. you were drowning glass after glass of liquor, cups that men and women would buy for you. it was quite easy to let them…

even easier to fall into the arms of a beautiful woman with black wavy hair and caramel eyes. her hands were warm, not like shane’s ice cold ones, and her kisses were soft, not like shane’s, which had knocked your breath out of your lungs.

why were you still thinking about her?

she was beautiful. and kind. and seemed to really like you. and the coke she had offered you only made it all seem better.

you pushed her closer, kissed her harder, until her tongue was breaching your lips and her touch became rougher, grabbing at your ass and making you moan.

yes. this was what you needed.

“come with me.” you muttered against her lips, taking her hand and pulling from her towards the club’s bathrooms, which oddly enough were empty. you kissed her as you walked her into one of the cubicles, closing the door behind your back and locking it. you were high out of your mind. and so drunk everything looked like in a daydream. you two made out until your lungs were pleading for oxygen and she was getting on her knees, pushing up your dress and pulling aside you panties to dive in between your thighs. you sighed at the feeling of her tongue, your back pressed against one of the walls of the bathroom stalls. you were sure this wasn’t the first indecent act they’ve seen before. and as good as it felt… you couldn’t feel good. not when she sucked on your clit, or when her fingers pushed inside to fuck you open.

so after a while, you started to fake it. so it could just be over and you could get back to drinking. or maybe finally get home. who cares.

lucky enough your seemed to be good at faking your orgasm, ‘cause she was smiling against your lips once she had gotten back on her feet. “let me buy you another drink, hm?” she offered.

and once again, you couldn’t say no.

you were absolutely and utterly fucked up. you couldn’t even walk straight. and if you could even think, you’d for sure wonder how were you even walking right now.

“come on, we’re almost there.” that sultry soft voice filled your ears.

oh yeah, maybe it was because of the gentle hands that kept you upright.

you looked at your right, and her greenish eyes were staring straight as you. you scoffed. “not you…” more like slurred.

of course it would be shane mccutcheon.

“what are you doing here?” you inquired her, feeling her touch burn your skin there where she held you.

“you’re fucked up.” she ignored you, and you laughed, shaking your head on a nod that had you feeling dizzy.

how she had found you? you had no idea. maybe it had to be with marina ferrer, her friend’s local that you had ended up on this late in the middle of the night, sniffing coke until you felt your nose would start bleeding. you couldn’t really take a moment to think about that possibility at that moment. not when she looked so good.

“how much did you take?” she asked, and you laughed, shrugging your shoulders as you let her wide you up the stairs of her house’s porch.

“not enough it seems.” ‘cause you’re still here, and i can’t stop thinking about you and it’s killing me. you could’ve said. but instead you silenced yourself, watching her slide the key in the lock and open the door for the two of you. “i was having fun. you ruined it.” you sighed, your blown out eyes squinting at the intensity of the lights she had just turned on.

“what, with that girl you were with?” you looked at her, and her face looked serious, deadly even.

“actually yeah.”

“you fucked her?”

you scoffed, looking at her with an incredulous face. “why the fuck do you care?”

“did you. fuck her.” she repeated, slower and you took a deep breath.

“yeah. i did.” you stared at her unchanging face, her strong façade. you wanted to punch it to pieces. why was she asking about this? she had fucked you. you were just one more stupid girl on her list. so why?

“what did she do?” her voice broke the silence after a beat, maybe two. the air was thick.

“what?”

“you heard me. what did she do to you?” you huffed.

“you’re unbelievable.” you shook your head.

“i’m the unbelievable one? you were so sad that you went off and fucked some girl at the club?”

“i guess i’m fucked up like that.” you shrugged and she sighed. “reminds me of someone i know.” you smirked.

“you’re a fucking kid.”

“oh yeah? well you didn’t mind me being a kid when you were eating me out.”

“jesus christ.” she muttered and you rolled your eyes.

“im too high for this shit.” you went ahead and tried to scurry yourself away from her but she was quick enough to stop you, her strong grip surrounding your wrist. you were closer than before. you could smell her stupidly attractive perfume, see the little lines that decorated her face, the freckles she’d gotten due to the numerous summers under the sun…

“but not high enough to get fucked?” she spat, and you looked at her with an incredulous face. “did it feel good? did she make you cum? did she make you feel like i did?” your lips were sealed as she pushed you against the wall, her breath mangling with yours.

“and what if she did?” you inquired, your eyes on hers, and she smirked, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. you gasped at the sudden feeling of one of her hands sliding in between your thighs, her fingertips trailing over the wet patch on your panties, which she had managed to create in just a couple of minutes. she hadn’t even touched you, jesus christ.

“but did she?” you bit down on your lip, feeling the painful need of an orgasm that never came. “poor thing. of course not. no one can make you feel like i do, isn’t that right, doll?” you let out a sigh as you felt her fingers rub up and down your sticky folds, drenching the cloth of your underwear.

“fuck you.” you spat and she chuckled.

“you wish.” she muttered just centimeters away from your lips. you unconsciously chased after her when she brushed her plump lips against yours, gasping as her free hand came up to surround your neck and keep you in place. you shivered when she found the crook on your neck and made her way up to your ear. “but you’ve already got that other girl to do that, don’t you?” and just like that she let go of you, leaving the air surrounding you now empty and cold on her absence. “left a pillow and a blanket for you on the sofa.” that was the last thing she said before closing the door of her room behind her back, not even giving you a goodbye.

and you just knew by the way your head was starting to pound that you’d have a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning.

next time you saw shane was while you were out partying. again. if you didn’t go out you’d be too deep into your head. it would mess you up. ‘cause you missed her. so fucking badly it was actually ripping you to pieces.

of course, it was a friday night. and you knew what that meant. you were at marina’s local, who welcomed you with a hug and a worried look on her face that you dismissed. she could see shane on your eyes, could feel her on your touch. she had branded you. and now you were following her steps. she just hoped history wouldn’t repeat itself this time.

“she’s here.” she muttered on your ear, more like a warning, a heads up. but you already knew that. shane indulged on a couple of drinks herself every friday. that’s why you’d come ready, on a tight black night dress that made your curves show and your tits almost overflow its cups. your heels were bloody red, just like your lips, and your eyes were smudged in black eyeliner, making them pop.

“thanks marina.” you gave her a sweet smile before wandering off into the crowd and perching yourself on the bar, asking for a couple of shots and a lemon vodka.

the alcohol burned your throat, warming up your body. by the time you threw yourself into the dancing crowd you could feel her eyes on you. you were the center of attention. you looked good, and you knew it. you talked and laughed, and danced with girls and boys until your feet hurt.

you didn’t know how many drinks you’ve had, but you felt lethargic and euphoric. you could feel the music seeping into your skin and vibrating your soul. your hips moved to the rhythm of the song, your back arching as you played with your hair. you had everyone on a trance, like a siren calling for the sailors, menacing with their drowning. but who could help themself? shane surely couldn’t.

she hated her guts. for being drawn to you, to the light like a moth would. but her hands had found your hips, and your warmth ignited her skin on fire. you always did this. always hung in front of her like the perfect bait, the perfect sin. and she wanted to sink her teeth into you, so badly…

you sighed when you felt her touch. you knew it was her. you could know her by touch alone. how couldn’t you? you could breath her.

your back rested against her chest, her mouth on your neck.

“everyone’s looking at you.” she muttered, and you chuckled, one of your hands lacing on her hair when she left a soft kiss on your suple skin.

“i just want you.” you said. there was alcohol running through your veins. but there was something about shane. only her had the power to leave you completely sober but high at the same time. a mixture of impossibility that had you breathless and in need of more.

“you can’t keep playing with me.” one of her hands surrounded you to pull you closer, palm resting against your stomach, her crotch against your ass. your senses felt overstimulated by her. all you could feel was her, all you could smell was her, all you could think was her.

shane, shane, shane…

“i thought you liked the game. you know… the one in which you pretend you don’t want it as much as i do.” you muttered against her lips, your eyes meeting her green ones.

it was like a game of chess. one wrong move and the king could fall. but isn’t that what you wanted? what she wanted?

you pulled away from her, your hand taking the one that rested on your stomach as you stepped away from her touch.

“what’s your move, shane?”

“you drive me crazy.” she muttered against your lips, her hands newly on your hips, your back against the door of her house, which encapsulated the two of you in a game of tug and let go. “you don’t know what you do to me.” she whined, and you were pulling from the buttons on her shirt, simply pushing it over her head to leave her chest bare to your hungry eyes. she tilted her head back with a silent moan when your mouth found her sensitive nipples, sucking and teasing them with your fingers. “your father’s gonna kill us.” you hummed, looking up at her. the way you prettily tongued at her chest, how your doe eyes stared into her half-lidded ones, how your pink and plump lips surrounded her nipples… she was fucked.

“we’re already dead.” you muttered against her mouth as you pulled up your dress, getting rid of it to show her the lingerie you wore underneath.

shane groaned, pulling you from your neck to meet your tongue. you sighed in relief in her mouth, opening up for her own, moaning at the feeling of the kisses you swore took all your breath away.

the two of you gripped at each other as if you were drowning and you were each others life saver.

somehow, you made your way to her bedroom, your back arching at the wet kisses shane left on your neck and breasts, but her hands left your body as she fell back first onto her bed. you got onto your knees, and jesus, now shane could believe in god. she wetted her lips, her intense stare on you as you unbuttoned her jeans. you bit down on your bottom one as the zip lowered, looking at her as if you were begging. you didn’t have to. shane was rising her hips for you to pull down her pants and underwear down and off her legs. she felt blessed.

your mouth watered as you stared in between her thighs, she was soaked, and so fucking beautiful. your hands found her skin to spread her apart further and she sighed. there was no need to talk. your bodies did all the talking for you. and you owed her an orgasm.

her hand on your hair was the cue to dive in between her thighs.

“fuuuck.” she cursed at the feeling of your tongue. she already knew you could use it with your words, but this… “we really shouldn’t be doing this.” she said, but when you sucked on her clit, she only contradicted herself by pulling you closer against her core. “shit. don’t stop.” you moaned, your fingers digging on her flesh as you buried yourself impossibly closer in between her folds, lapping at her arousal in long strips and flicking your tongue against her puffy clit.

shane tasted heavenly. she was like a drug, the more you took the more you needed her. you pushed her legs over your shoulders for better accessibility as one of your hands made your way under your chin so your fingers could meet her entrance. her hips pushed against your touch, almost as if she was begging for you to touch her, to make her cum. and who were you to say no to her?

shane moaned when you thrusted your middle and ring finger into her pussy, her tight and warm slick walls squeezing your fingers in a heart-like rhythm. you needed to hear more of her like this. you could get high on it, maybe even cum as her pretty voice filled the room.

“fuck baby, yeah, just like that. so good. good girl.” she praised when you curled them to find that spongey spot that left her light-headed. your tongue toyed with her clit meanwhile, the stimulation driving her closer to her long awaited release.

you whimpered at her words, your cunt throbbing in need as you humped you own heels for some kind of friction.

“i’m gonna cum. gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours, fuck.” she gasped, her hips subconsciously thrusting against your fingers and tongue.

you got impatient, driven by the need to taste her on your tongue, curling your fingers faster, sucking on her clit harder, until you felt her hold on your hair tighten and her thighs tremble, a moan leaving her mouth as she fell apart, soaking your chin and lips and filling your mouth.

you hummed, fucking her through it until the very last drop of her cum had been drank. you let her go with a soft kiss to her clit, licking your fingers clean under her intense and hungry stare. shane sat up, guiding you up onto your feet, looking up at you with a desire that threatened with breaking your bones.

her eyes ranked up and down your body, still clad in lingerie. her hands found your waist, pulling you so close you ended up falling on her lap, her mouth on your chest and neck, sucking new bruises that you’d wear like a jewel.

“shane…” you whined, and she understood, one of her hands easily getting rid of the clasp of your bra, throwing it aside to suck on your tits and pierced nipples. “fuck…” you toyed with her brunette hair, tugging at her strands in pleasure, your hips thrusting against her own in need of release.

“want to fuck you so bad, baby.“ she groaned, one of her hands cupping your pussy over your panties, her fingers easily finding and playing with your clit.

“then do it. shit. fuck me, shane. fuck me.” you whined, and with that she was flipping you over and burying you on the sheets, practically ripping your panties off of you. her fingers didn’t wait to part your soaked lips. she grunted, burying her face on your neck.

“so fucking wet…” she almost whined, and your nails dug on her back.

“shane, please…” you begged. it hurt. it hurt so bad. this need you had for her, this hunger that only her could satiate…

“shh, i got you baby. i got you.” she promised, making you whimper and gasp as she thrusted her fingers inside of your welcoming and sopping cunt. “so warm and ready for me…”

your jaw fell slack as she plunged them deeper, her lips kissing the side of it. the squelches of your slick as she started moving them in and out of you making you blush.

“you hear her baby? so needy…” she muttered against your skin, her hips thrusting against your hand and making her fingers reach your cervix.

“shane!” you screamed at the roughness of her movements, the curling of her digits straight onto your g spot. your legs surrounded her hips to bring her closer.

“so fucking pretty screaming my name…” she sighed, her free hand coming up to surround and squeeze your neck.

“i’m not gonna last…” you cried out, the constant abuse on your g spot making you feel dizzy. the warmth of your upcoming orgasm expanding through your lower stomach.

“hold it. i want you to cum on my pussy.” she ordered, pulling away from you and pulling out her fingers from your gaping core. you cried out, feeling your release subsiding.

your watery eyes stared up at her as she made a quick work of positioning your legs and herself in between them. she held one of your own as she sunk down against your pussy, the feeling making the two of you moan and grunt.

“fuck. you feel so good…” she gasped, thrusting against you, making your clits catch and getting out a whimper from your chest.

“shane, shane, shane…” you chanted her name like a prayer to a god, your own hips twitching against hers for more friction. squelching sounds of your pussies gliding against the other filled the air, along with your moans and whimpers. “i can’t. can’t. i’m gonna cum!” you cried out, feeling with every hump your release growing closer.

“cum for me, let me see it fucking drip.” she grunted with a harsh thrust. and with that you were falling apart under her. your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave and drowning you in pleasure. “thaat’s it. good girl. good fucking girl.” she moaned. “fuck. you’re soaking my pussy so good baby. so fucking good.”

“shit. you’re gonna make me cum again. gonna make me cream your pussy. fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m gonna fill you up baby, im gonna-“

due to her recent orgasm she was sensitive. so fucking sensitive that with the sight of your pretty face cumming for her, and the moaning of her name falling from your lips brought her to her second orgasm of the night.

…

the king had fallen. and the game was over. or was it?

a/n; this took so long to write omg😭. but i’m actually happy w it??? hope y’all enjoyed it❤️

#shane mccutcheon x reader #shane x reader #shane mccutcheon smut #shane mccutcheon imagine #shane smut #shane fluff #shane angst #shane l word #l word shane #shane mccutcheon #the l word x reader #the l word smut #the l word imagine #the l word fan fiction #the l word

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mcfuckity · 11 months

Text

You know what? Im breaking my silence. Im TIRED of people missing Jess’ character on purpose. Like, everyone can use context clues and fill in the blanks for every other character but somehow Jess is the only one taken at face value? Jess is being seen as a cold, detached, mean bitch by fans but I cannot determine whether we even watched the same movie.

Let’s address the elephant in the room, because she is a black woman who is NOT a mammy character, people criticize her harsher. Jess was MORE than Miguel’s “lackey”. She had her own thoughts and opinions. She definitely had her own personality and feelings about the entire situation. She lowkey stalled time to give Gwen chances to fix her mistakes.

If Jess was as cold as Miguel and such a “bitch”, she would’ve left Gwen the first time. Let’s not forget that Miguel was fully about to leave Gwen with her own father holding her at gunpoint, JESS vouched to bring Gwen under her name. Jess put her OWN position at risk to help Gwen and it required that she do her job accordingly. Jess made the boundary VERY clear, she is NOT Gwen’s mother. She is NOT her friend. I seen people argue that “Jess’ maternal instincts” should’ve kicked in to protect Gwen” but fully ignoring that Jess HAS A FAMILY! Jess is PREGNANT with her OWN child. Her instincts DID kick in and she chose her dimension with her family in it!

Jess was stuck in a rock and a hard place. She obviously wanted to help Gwen (considering she brought her in at the cost of her own position) but UNFORTUNATELY, GWEN messed up. Gwen saw Miles and that ultimately led to Spot escaping. You can love these characters and acknowledge that every character had their OWN thoughts and motivations that led to fuck ups. It’s not right to try to make Jess sound worse than the man who fuckin replaced his dead self out of grief, was about to leave a teen at gunpoint, and had an entire society of people chase a teenager who wanted to save his dad.

Don’t get me started on the “she’s fighting crime while pregnant argument” because we can accept superpowered people but NOT the possibility that their bodies are more resilient. NOT TO MENTION THAT PETER B HAS A WHOLE BABY ON MISSIONS???? Like, no one is calling him a bad father so what’s different with Jess? Miguel was mean as fuck to Miles upon meeting but Jess doing her JOB is considered being “mean”.

Then the “I didn’t see her enough to connect with her” is fair until everyone can somehow create entire {TERRIBLE} mischaracterizations of Hobie, Pav, and Peni who (arguably) had just about the same amount of screentime. She also shares traits with every other spider person with being snarky and quick-witted while being completely grounded. She’s literally one of the spider people that Miguel fully trusts but somehow the fandom erases her and goes “He loves Peter B and Lego Spidey🤪🤪”

Like, it’s crazy how people find it so easy to erase Jess and Margo (Spiderbyte) in fanworks for things they easily dismiss from other characters and it’s feelin like misogynoir. Like, Margo and Hobie served the same purpose with deciding to go against Miguel for Miles, yet only Hobie and Gwen gets that credit.

AND THEN THE MANY EXCUSES WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING! People keep hating on Jess/Miguel because she’s “obviously pregnant and married” but go right around and ship Miguel with Peter B. Same with Margo/Miles because it’s a bunch of “Miles and Gwen are obviously endgame” ANDDDD???? Since when did every ship HAVE TO be canon in order to be a ship? It’s especially crazy because I BARELY EVER see those comments on Miles/(Peni, Pav, or Hobie) or have no problem with having all the boys huddled around Gwen. The double standard is glaringly obvious.

In conclusion, some of you mfs dont deserve ATSV.

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