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sh1-n0bu · 2 days

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♡︎ 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙩2 ♡︎

characters: sub!dragons x nb!dom!reader

warnings: finger in vent again so vent fingering, established relationship, monster anatomy, clothes and undergarment stealing, clothes sniffing, the dragons are being a bit more feral, pillow humping, praise, pleading, thigh riding, guided vent fingering, squirting, nipple stimulation, bullet vibrator usage, mind break, fluff, needy dragon boys hehehehhehe

notes: due to popular demand, here is part 2 of dragons getting fucked dumb(●’◡’●)ﾉ im sorry if it took a while. i was having some health issues(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) part 1 can be read here!! gradient divider from @/benkeibear

word count: 4.9k

ever since you helped out your large lizard lover with his heat, there’s only been one thing on his mind since then. your finger in his vent. the soft coos of your praises, the way you pushed his legs open to fuck him dumber, the way you nudged his hands off of his face so you could see his cute face twist and turn in pleasure as you fuck his hole.

“oh, for fuck’s sake! i need to get them out of my head” the dragon huffs aloud out of a sudden, hunching over his desk at his usual office as he hides the flush of his cheeks behind his hands. already a week has passed since the ending of his heat cycle and yet he was acting like he was still under the influence of his stupid dragon anatomy. he couldn’t even stop thinking about you and your fingers spreading him open while he cried dumbly on the bed, back arching and chasing after your fingers like a whore.

it was after his heat ended and finally able to at least articulate proper sentences that wasn’t about wanting you to wreck him, that the two of you have talked over and decided that perhaps it was time to make your relationship official. how long have the two of you been dancing around each other, making everyone roll their eyes at the way you two flirted with each other like some dumb teenagers? enough to the point people started making bets. enough that a half of the city had become 50 bucks richer and the other half poorer.

despite having already gotten into an established relationship with you, the poor dragon still felt shameful over some of his actions. such as stealing your clothes whenever you come over to his house to stay the night and lying to your face about not knowing where it was. you two were still basically in the baby stages of being an official couple which was why you needed some time to fully move your things into his house and to start living together. it takes time to settle y’know?

so it was definitely weird when some of your clothes started to disappear. the shirt that you usually wear when at the comfort of your or his home. the large, oversized sweater of yours that you have given the nickname of “the ugly one”. and strangely, you even had a hard time finding a certain undergarment amongst the mess of your home and the boxes of things that you packed up, preparing to move. strange. and even more strange, your overgrown lizard lover says he hasn’t seen them in his own home either. you genuinely started to question your own memory.

in the meantime you were busy creating a storm in your home trying to triple check this week about your missing clothes, your boyfriend was having a hard time in his office. no matter how hard he tried to focus on the paperwork stacked in front of his damn face, he just couldn’t.

instead, his mind just kept drifting back to the memory of you helping him during his heat cycle. the praises that constantly fell on his ears as his toes curled, clawed hands scrambling to grasp for something to clutch onto because he was sure that he ascended when your finger fucked the small opening of his vent. and that lewd squelching noises of his slick dripping down from his vent. an oddly sickeningly sweet smelling scent coming from him as if trying to woo you, trails of his juice dripping from his vent down to his fluttering hole to the bed.

he was fucked dumb during those days and by the stars, he wanted it again. he wanted your hand fisting at his cocks, eagerly tugging on them as your finger abuses the squishy spot inside him. he wanted to sob and wail deliriously, bucking his hips, torn between wanting to chase after the pleasure or tearing himself away to save what leftover pride he had, as he begs for mercy. he wanted it. at this rate, if he kept thinking back on that moment, he might as well try to force his body into another heat cycle so soon.

shaking the imagery out of his head, the dragon clears his throat. looking around his office to see if anyone is around — to his luck, no one was — before breathing out a heavy huff. he might as well try to at least do his work during work time.

“maybe that chipmunk’s affinity to skip work is rubbing off on me…”

perhaps even more had rubbed off on him. none which was a good thing.

“i’m sorry… i’m sorry i’m sorry ‘m sorry, [name]…” the dragon whines pathetically, wearing the oversized sweater he stole from you and nothing else. he just couldn’t get that memory out of his head. every time he tried, something small and insignificant would just remind him of it again. unable to keep up with trying to seem all professional, he rushed home straight after work — perhaps even earlier than the hours he gets out of his office — locking himself in his bedroom with a pillow between his thighs, wearing your sweater with your stolen undergarments to his face.

despite having already been fucked shamelessly just ten or so days ago, it still felt wrong to think of you in such a lewd way. in such a defiling way. in a way that it served as a huge disservice to who you really are.

“mmnngh—! [naamee]… m-miss you… missing you so bad…” the dragon whines, completely pent up as his slick continues to drip onto the pillow between his thighs, the outer scales of his vent already puffy and open slightly, weeping his mouthwatering juice. the poor thing was pathetic, trying to recreate the way you wrecked him so good. fingers messily rubbing and flicking against his vent opening as a means to mimic the way you ate him out the other day. spreading his slick around, making a stretching motion with his two fingers on the sides of his vent, flicking the small nub on top. it didn’t help. if anything, it only made it worse.

the dragon was trying to help himself out, to relieve himself off of his pain of unknowingly edging himself for the past few days. without you by his side to help him out or to hear his pleas. without you by his side to fuck him so good again. palming himself with a pathetic whimper, the dragon thinks about slipping a finger inside his vent the same way you did. but could he do it? probably not. he was just too damn of a coward, and there was the looming possibility of losing control of himself and letting his claws grow.

unable to do it in the end, he settles on merely stroking his cock. hand wrapped tightly around his weeping dick, your stolen undergarments wrapped around one of his cocks as he mewls, bucking his hips into the tight space of his closed fist. it was nowhere near to how it felt when you did it. perhaps at the time, it was his heat pheromones working but it felt good. your hand wrapped around his cock as your other hand fingers his vent opening. your hand felt so much better.

biting down on his lips, he cums into his hand, soiling your stolen undergarments as well in the process just the moment he thought back on the feeling. pouting, the dragon’s tail flicks in annoyance behind him, looking over at the clock hanging on the wall.

12:36. were you awake right now? you did indeed had tendency to stay awake a bit too late on some nights…

knock knock knock!

the soft yet annoyingly persistent knocks on your door slowly rouses you from your sleep, making you roll around in the comfort of your bed in a silent declaration of war against the knocking. acting stubborn, clinging onto the cozy warmth of your bed, you groan as a string of curses falls from your lips as you involuntarily drag yourself out of bed. whoever that was outside your door in this ungodly hour shall face your wrath like sun wukong did with buddha.

pitter pattering to the door — where the knocking has become more persistent — you swing the door open, ready to curse the person and their 109 bloodlines before shutting up. standing in front of you with his tail and horns out in the open, slitted eyes glowing slightly, was your dragon lover. strange. he never visits this late.

“dear? wha— what happened? is everything alright? it’s—“ you take a moment to steal a glance towards the clock hanging on the living room wall before turning to face him again, “—nearly 2am” you finish, concern growing more and more when his tail comes to curl around his own ankle. a clear sign that he was feeling anxious or uncomfortable.

“can i… come in? i wanted to see you” the dragon asks in a meek voice, a strange habit that you found concerning and heartbreaking to see since your lover was usually one who is calm and collected at all times. nodding, you usher him inside before locking the door behind you.

quietly, you follow him as your lover makes a straight beeline into your bedroom, making himself comfortable on the edge of your bed as a pink flush starts to grow on his cute cheeks. you were about to ask him if he wanted something to eat or drink but perhaps not as the needy dragon was now staring at you as his tail swishes behind him, impatient. tails expressed emotions after all.

yawning, you move to sit beside him on the bed, to which you accept his hug when you finally settle down. his arms cones to wrap around your middle, tail now calming down from the earlier fussy movement as it curls around your calf possessively. humming, you run a hand through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

the dragon loved it whenever you read him like he was an open book. to others, he was a stone wall, one that was made out of ancient scribbles and unintelligible runes. a warrior forged by blood and scent of death, one who was born and made by the cries of war and blind devotion from others. but to you, he was just a fellow being. one who was lonely from the many centuries he had spent, all by himself. struggling with the many different cultures of life, trying his best to learn and understand the human customs so he could properly court you in human traditions.

you two stay like that for some time. nestled against one another, just basking in the comfort of the peaceful life that you two found between yourselves.

“[name]…” the dragon whimpers from the crook of your neck, soft rumbling purrs mixing with his whining of your name. it was enough to snap you out of your sleepy state, making you hum as you acknowledge his call. he got your attention now. but the main point of hesitancy was — could he do it? could he be so shameful as to not only disturb your night of peace but to also be selfish to want you to pleasure him the same way you did a few days ago?

hearing the familiar noise of his tail hitting the bed constantly in a sense of irritation, you coo his name softly. one hand messing with the long strands of his hair while the other runs through his scalp.

“what’s on your mind now, my pretty?” you ask, taking a look at his face when it comes out of its hiding place in the crook of your neck. he seemed to be conflicted. brows furrowed, slitted eyes glowing slightly in the dark room while his lips tug in a small pout. laughing at the oddly adorable expression, you kiss his brows and pouty lips, making his purrs become louder. such a needy dragon.

“i’ve… been thinking,” the dragon starts after a while, taking his time to try and articulate his request and to convey his feelings that has been bothering him lately. a lot more than he initially thought they would.

“about how you helped me while i was in heat” he takes a moment, watching your expression closely to see if you caught the gist of what he was trying to say. you did, of course you did, you were a smart human after all. his smart human.

“and i was wondering if you could do it again…?” he finally manages to bring himself to ask, peering up at you through his lashes bashfully. how could you ever say no to such a face? such an ethereal and cute begging face alongside the promise of seeing his expression twist into one of someone who’s just fucked stupid. the cute face of your dragon lover drooling and sobbing fat tears while his heart shaped pupils stare at you in a silent plea for more. that face haunted your mind for too damn long, causing unnecessary moments of dozing off while remembering about the moment you slipped your finger inside, making your already horrible work ethnic drop to below ground level.

“sure. i wouldn’t mind it, pretty” you hum, any ounce of sleep leaving your body as you move to a more comfortable position on the bed. pushing yourself to lean against the headboard of the bed, you watch as your draconic lover takes his place on your lap. clawed hands coming to fist at the material of your pajama shirt, whining your name as he pushes himself flush against your chest. you could feel the mounds of his chest pressing against your own, his tail swishing behind him as he arches his back. your lips is pulled against his own, a small peck easily turning into a heated, messy make out. his forked tongue shyly licking at your lips, purring contently as his long tongue slithers inside you, exploring every nook and cranny needily.

you could feel his hips humping your thigh, the wetness of his vent weeping his precum already starting to stain his pajama pants and seeping into your own. you could tell he was too aroused, dumbly chasing after any ounce of pleasure there could be. you could feel the way your mixed saliva dripped down from your sloppy open mouthed kisses, his hands guiding yours to rest on his hips. a position you used to your advantage as your hands traveled downwards to knead his ass, squeezing the soft fat as he whimpers into the kiss.

the poor thing was so pent up, humping your thighs didn’t felt enough. it wasn’t enough to get him to that familiar feeling of high, that exhilarating feeling of feeling your fingers stretch his vent open while he could only keen like a whore.

“want it… want it so bad…” he mumbles into the kiss, guiding your hands to the hem of his pajama pants, tugging on them fervently to get the clothes off. you simply chuckle, finding his desperation adorable in more ways than one before finally relenting and slipping off his pants before he let out an annoyed hiss, pulling away from the sloppy make out session to tear off his underwear with his claws.

“darling! why would you rip it off?” you ask, amused by his eagerness but also slightly concerned for the way he just easily ripped off his clothes like that. you have never seen him get even the tiniest bit ticked off after all, so this was a new side of him that you were seeing.

“wanted more” he only huffs, demanding more kisses as he returns to shove his forked tongue down your throat. the length of his tongue got you groaning and panting, finding it harder to breathe as he becomes more needy with every kiss, with every sloppy slurp of your tongue against his own.

“mmnhp—! [nameee]♡︎” he let out a yelp, pulling away from the kiss to whine out your name as he felt your fingers knead his vent open. the poor dragon whined, huffing and puffing about how you were being so mean to him as he humps your thigh, the tips of his cocks slowly emerging from the scaled vent, both of his cocks weeping pre all over your clothes as his vent drips with his own arousal.

shifting him around, you let him lean his back onto your chest, hands hooking under his legs to spread them open. your dragon let out a little hiss, talking about how you weren’t paying attention to him. you simply shush his hissy fit with a chuckle, placing a kiss on his forehead. taking his hand, you tell him to withdraw his claws. an action he does with confusion before he let out a whimper when you guide his hand to his vent.

“b-but… i-i don’t think i can do it. i’m nervous!” he says in a panicked tone, turning his head to stare at you with cute pouty lips and wide eyes.

“yes, you can. i’ll guide you through it all, okay? it’ll feel good, promise darling” you say, peppering his face in kisses to soothe his worries. the dragon preens at that, his purrs getting louder as his tail whacks the mattress of your bed impatiently. once you get the hint that he was ready and he was okay with continuing, you guide his fingers to tease the edges of his vent. fingers rubbing the soft scales, making a spreading motion to ease the muscles there.

just some foreplay and he was already panting, legs twitching to close them. he was so cute.

“that’s it pretty, now keep your legs open for me” you continue to praise him through it all, your other hand leaving his leg to slip underneath his shirt. squeezing his chest, rubbing your thumb over his areola, you pinch at his nipple when it hardens, causing him to jolt in your embrace. whispering more praises of how he was doing so well, how he was your pretty boy, your beloved dragon, your hand guides his own to slip a finger inside his now loose vent.

“u-uunngh!! mmghh… mnngh… t-tight♡︎ too tight! w-won’t fit…♡︎!” he blabbers, throwing his head back on your shoulder as you slowly ease his finger deeper inside his vent. first, second knuckle until his middle finger was slipped deep inside the tight hole of his opening, legs shaking on the bed already like a fawn’s. there were already tears starting to form in his eyes, jaw slack open as heavy breaths fall. not a single thought behind his teary eyes. nothing but the pleasure your guidance and his fingers were bringing him.

“that’s it… that’s my pretty dragon, keep going” you coo out, pleased by how easily he broke under a simple pleasure of fingering his own vent. when he pathetically humps the air — finger still inside — you pull on his nipple to remind him how to do it. squealing at the amount of pleasure coming from both his nipples and vent, the dragon shakes his head, fat globs of tears already falling.

“c-can’t! can’t do it. [n-name] i need you♡︎♡︎ need your fingers so bad♡︎!“ he stutters, legs already shaking, about to close shut. too caught up in his own pleasure that he doesn’t even know what to do to properly pleasure himself even when you were here to guide him through it. clicking your tongue, you guide his hand to pull his finger out, something he couldn’t even perform without your help. he really was a goner with you.

“then, be a sweetheart and play with your tits for me, pretty. wanna see your cute breasts jiggle while i fuck you” you tell him, watching with endearment as he nods dumbly. hands coming up to push his shirt up, fingers twisting and pinching at his own hardened nipples. stuttered breaths fall from his lips when he could feel your thumb swipe at the slit of one of his cocks, jolting in place when you give his weeping cock a few pumps. the few visible veins in them were bulging, ready to pop and for him to squirt yet again if you just stop teasing him around!

but doing the same thing over and over again sounded boring to you. your sweet dragon deserved some treats for being such a good boy after all. he deserved some pampering.

“ah! gimme a second, darling” you snap your fingers, an idea forming in your head. he lets out a soft confused hum at that, hands still holding onto the soft mounds of his chest as he watches you move away to reach over to your bedside nightstand. opening the top drawer, he watches in curiosity as you bring out an odd small device that was connected to a small remote control by quite the lengthy wire. the color all cute pink, the toy small and nearly the size of a small hairclip but pretty girthy in width. were you… thinking on putting that inside him?

“it’s called a bullet vibrator. apparently, it’s supposed to add vibrations to any place of your choosing. and since i found out of your soft spot, i thought maybe we could try it out?” you explain to him, slowly unwrapping the long wire of the toy. it was quite lengthy. perfect to use it for his soft spot.

“only if you’re comfortable with it, dear. i wouldn’t want you to try anything you think you’re not ready for or feel comfortable with” you quickly say, ready to throw the toy away for another time when you feel the grip of his tail around your ankle. the soft smooth scales creating a soft, bristling sensation on your bare skin. if he could remember carefully, the most he took in his vent were two fingers. but it proved that his vent could be quite stretchy and take something more if given enough foreplay and gentle ministrations.

“i… i don’t think i would mind it. it sounds kind of fun, actually” he says after a moment of thinking on the matter, accepting the fact that yes, he can take it. he wanted to try these new feelings and challenges with you. everything would be right when with you.

“i would love to try this new toy” he finally comes to a conclusion, turning his head so he could place kisses on your neck and cheeks, purring in happiness when he could hear you chuckling. you should laugh more. the dragon loved the sound of your laughter — like soft bells chiming in the morning.

patting his thigh to tell him to open up his legs further, it was now your turn to plant kisses on his neck. you couldn’t exactly bite his shoulders as he still had his pajama shirt on, but you can take care of it tomorrow morning. so, you settle on peppering kisses on his neck, the faint scales that were around his artery, giving it a light suckle to which you got a breathy moan for. all the while you allow his vent to get used to the feeling of the toy, the material of it and its size, simply rubbing it over the soft outer scales.

“gonna push it in, okay pretty?” you whisper in his ear, to which he whimpered and nodded, one of his hands leaving his chest to intertwine his hand with yours. so cute. you can only hope he won’t crush your hand accidentally.

ever so softly, whispering praises to how good he was taking the toy into the shell of his ear, you take in the delicious noises he makes with a great amount of pride. the great and only dragon who could wipe out an entire nation off of the face of the earth, choosing you as his mate and bonding with you. having his faith in you that you would take good care of him and his pleasures. it was a heavy emotion and one that comes with responsibility to a certain degree and you would always be sure to handle the heart of his that he willingly gave you, with tenderness of a first snow.

“aaah mmggh—! uungh♡︎ it’s in! i-it’s aaaanhg♡︎♡︎ hummg♥︎ inside... it’s insiiiecckk—♡︎♥︎!!” your dragon squeals, hips thrusting back and forth into the air as he feels the soft round edge of the toy pressed against the soft spongy spot inside his vent. it felt foreign to have something other than your hand touch him there, perhaps even disrespectful since it was supposed to be the only soft spot that only you must have the privilege to know and touch! but for the sake of this new level of pleasure that you promised, he swallowed his hissy fits, instead replacing them with a whiny soft moan.

“i know, pretty. i know. deep breaths for me, pretty” you murmur, giving soft squeezes to his hand that was tightly holding your own. his tail starting to wrap around your ankle and up your calf further with the fluffy haired end wagging in the air playfully around your knees. you let him get used to the feeling of the toy first. gently rubbing it back and forth on his spongy spot, hearing the way his breathing picks up pace as he throws his head onto your shoulder.

“gonna turn it on now, pretty” you warn him, keeping a close eye on the way his expression shifts. if he shows the slightest bit of pain, uncomfortable feelings or signs of discomfort, you were going to ditch the idea. a moment of pleasure is not worth loosing your comfort over, after all. thankfully, he was reacting well to the new intrusion. only positive notes of his pleasured noises and star crossed eyes. you say it to him again, this time just a bit louder with a squeeze to his hand in case he was starting to lose himself. that seemed to snap him out of his trance. just enough to nod his head to you.

“o-okay… okayhhh i understaaaNGGHH!! [n-name]♥︎♥︎[namenamenamenam]—♥︎♥︎ h-haaangh mmhg s-shoo much♡︎ f-feelsh too much♡︎♥︎!!” just a single switch to the lowest level of the vibrator and he was already shrieking, sobbing and thrashing about on the bed. legs shutting around your hand instinctively, salty globs of tears falling as he goes slack jawed. his entire body shakes as he squirts into his stomach, but this time, he squirted from both of his cocks at the same time. the pretty pink tips weakly letting out a few more drops before he was fully hard on both cocks again.

all the while, you watched with an ever growing jubilation as your lover is reduced to this mess on your lap. legs shaking like a newborn fawn’s, cheeks and pointy ears a lovely shade of red as his jaw hangs slack open. every now and then, he would go quiet, arch his back off of you before a loud shriek would follow as the vibrator hits just right. you could see hearts in his eyes, completely docile as his pupils grow wide, so much so you could barely see the glow of his eye color.

so pathetically cute as he mewls your name in a slurred gibberish, repeating it over and over like a broken record. a broken recording that only had one word and is stuck in an eternal loop to say that recording. the most prettiest one. one that you wanted to be selfish and hear all day, everyday.

“u-uuuugckk! aaaanhg gyanh!! mrrrph— luv you♡︎ luvyouluvyouluvyous’much♥︎! luv yoouugh [n-naamee], luv you sho muchhh♡︎♡︎ f-fuUUNGK—♥︎♥︎” he trashes about on the bed, constant declaration of love falling from his lips, kicking his legs at the blanket as he sobs deliriously until he squirts yet again. his own cum splattering over to his chest, soiling his shirt and wetting his still hard pink nipples. you give one of them a pinch, delighted as he mewls in a hoarse voice. pinching and tugging on the cute nub, rubbing the still vibrating toy around his spongy spot, you watch in sheer adoration and obsession as he shoots blanks.

turning off the toy, you coax his legs open so you could move your hand and slip the toy out of his vent. when the girth of the toy slowly slips out of his abused now puffy vent, your dragon lets out a sob as his hips jolt violently. you could see his juices dripping out of his fluttering vent, wanting to finger it back inside him but knowing that it would push him way too far over his limits.

“shh shh, there there, pretty. i got you. you did so amazing” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his middle to pull him flush against yourself. wiping away his tears and drool, you places butterfly kisses over his face as you ground him back to his mind. he was far too gone and he hated having baths when he was way too lost in his subspace. if he isn’t responsive enough when bathing together, he will throw yet another hissy fit.

“mmmgh… tired…” you could hear him croak out after a long time of rocking him in your arms. he was slowly coming back which meant it was time for a bath. but until he fully regains his mind, it was better to cuddle him close as his tail has a mind of its own and has yet to let go of your ankle. at all.

smooch! maybe another kiss to his pink cheeks would help him ground himself faster.

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andhumanslovedstories · 2 days

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I try to answer other people’s call lights if I’m not busy, because if my work is done and I’ve helped out with other people’s work, I can fully commit to slacking off guilt free. And usually what people want is bathroom, snacks, and/or pain meds, all of which are pretty easy to address and if there’s anything too complicated, I can always call the nurse. Anyway, I go answer this call light, and it’s for a patient I don’t know and have never spoken to before. I pop in like “hi can I help you?” as I feel so quietly smug about how Helpful I am being, and the patient goes, “do you know if I’m dying tonight? If I am, I should call my family.”

To be so clear. I was expecting like. a request for a ginger ale. I was not prepared emotionally for a very sick stranger grappling with the angst of potentially imminent death. So I go, “UMMM. I DON’T KNOW. LEMME CHECK WITH YOUR NURSE AND SEE IF SHE KNOWS.” This seemed heinously inadequate in the face of their obvious despair, so I added, “probably not in the next ten minutes if you’re able to sit up and ask, but I can’t make any promises.”

Don’t think that was the ideal follow up sentence. But it didn’t seem to make the patient any sadder than they already were. I used to really live in fear of being the nurse in someone’s anecdote about a wildly inappropriate thing said to them by their nurse. It’s not so much as I’ve gotten over that fear as I’ve accepted that my job thrusts me into a lot of situations where I have to talk about extremely intense topics to the people most intimately affected by those topics, often with no time, no prep, and no information. At this point, I just try my best to ground my inarticulate fumblings in as much genuine care as I can express, and thank God I don’t fuck up worse and more often.

#also I did a pt assessment don’t worry I know sense of impeding doom is Symptom #nursing tag

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hysteria-things · 2 days

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DRUNK IN LOVE

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend has never been so in love. he has to prove it to you somehow.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FILTHY, swearing, jealousy, oral (female receiving), spanking if you squint, overstimulation, dumbification, passing out

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 756

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: day FIVE (🤫) of nate week!

WE ARE SO BACK…

genuinely, you don’t know how much more you can take, but god it feels so good. your legs are propped over nate’s shoulders, still shaking from your two previous orgasms.

juices coat his mouth and the sheets below, your fingertips massaging his hair. he hasn’t come up for air once, and it’s quite shocking to you.

your twitching lower half grinds into his face, chest heaving as you pant uncontrollably. your parents aren’t home, so you two need to take advantage of that.

the funny thing is, he’s not doing this because you guys got bored. he’s doing this because he saw you and this one kid talking at his lacrosse match… he didn’t like that.

the two of you are a well-known couple around school, so it didn’t take long for everyone to know you’re off limits. guess that one junior didn’t get the memo whatsoever.

before the other team gets to the school and while the stands slowly fill, they warm up as much as they can on the field. a glimpse of you catches nate’s eye, but you’re not alone.

nate stops in his tracks, staring intently at the way whoever that fucking kid is is talking to you. from where he is he can’t hear, but he can tell by the boy’s body language.

you’re too much of a people pleaser to notice, but your boyfriend can notice from a mile away that he’s flirting with you. his hand touches your shoulder while you’re laughing at something he said.

eyes like daggers, nate breathes heavily from anger the more he watches this go down. “nate, man, you good?” one of his teammates asks, jogging in front of him to block his view.

“yeah. i’m fine.”

it’s just the fact that he loves you so much he can’t help himself as he worships your pussy. his pussy, and he’s letting you know that it belongs to him and nobody else.

his tongue licks fast strands up your slit, high-pitched mewls leaving your mouth. “nate.” you sob, hot tears trickling down your face. “nathan.” you repeat, gripping tighter onto his brown locks and arching your back.

usually, he would praise you, but he’s so pussy drunk that he can’t pull away. your mind isn’t the only thing that’s not thinking straight. his isn’t either.

other than your cries and moans, the squelching noises your pussy makes are his favorite sound. he hums hungrily into your cunt, and you exhale when your third release of the night paints his lips that have to be swollen by now.

the view at nate’s eye level is fucking filthy. your poor comforter is drenched, practically ruined at this point. the inside of your thighs glistening with your folds fluttering the rest of your orgasm out onto his chin. this isn’t enough. he needs more.

his muscle enters your sopping hole, all red and used from continuous stimulation. gasping, you close your legs tight around his head and keep them there. this hits a new angle, making him dig deeper… and deeper.

you’re wrecked at this point, absolutely helpless and out of control. “stop it.” you whimper, breathing through your sobs.

with that, his hands grip your calves and spread your legs wider than they were before. “s-stop.” you cry out again.

you desperately try to push his head away, but of course, he doesn’t listen. in fact, he pulls you closer to the point where his nose grazes you clit with each stroke and slaps the outside of your thigh.

screaming, you accept your fate and lay there. he’s eating as if he’s never eaten a meal in his life. your whole body loosens, brain dead, and laying there to take it like you were supposed to do. your lower half is so numb that you don’t feel the other orgasm rip through you.

this time, he takes his lips and sucks at your pussy along with your clit. poor you, so useless and crying with your eyes crossed and tongue sticking out. then, your vision goes black; the rest of you becoming limp.

he kisses your puffy cunt before slowly stopping to catch his breath. a string of saliva mixed with your cum connects from his lips before he breaks it by pulling away.

getting up, he wipes his mouth and makes his way to where your face is. he rubs the tears from your cheeks and kisses the corner of your lips softly, whining before he thrusts into the mattress while cumming in his sweats. again.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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megaderping · 2 days

Text

I feel like when people compare Akechi to Light Yagami, they fundamentally misunderstand his character. Their similarities really end at their designs, and Light is the kind of person Akechi would despise. Light Yagami lives a pretty privileged life at the start of Death Note. He has a stable home, with two parents and a sister who care about him. He's a successful student. There isn't really inherent tragedy to his life. The whole reason he starts using the Death Note is a mix of curiosity and a jaded worldview, and when it works it empowers him, very quickly goes to his head, as he believes he is one who can be a god of a "new world" once the shock of his initial kills wears off. While his first kill was to help someone, that altruism didn't last. He is in charge of his choices, while Ryuk mostly vibes and maybe eggs him on a little. Fundamentally, Light has something Akechi lacks: agency, and a comfortable life he took for granted. Meanwhile, Akechi is someone who lived on the bottom rung of Japanese society. His very existence is shameful there, between his mother being a sex worker, his status as an illegitimate/"throw away" child, and his mother's suicide. Years languishing in a foster system that is notoriously inhumane, in a country where 90% of the adoptions are grown men for inheritance and patriarchal reasons, while very few children in the system find permanent homes. When Akechi awakens his power, he approaches Shido not because he wants to kill people but for a stupid revenge plan cooked up by a traumatized child who's been nudged along by a malevolent god. He wants to build Shido up so that at the height of his power, he can expose him for the monster he really is, while another part of him genuinely wants to be useful to Shido, as Cogkechi later calls out. His feelings are a mess of contradictions, and so it's no surprise that Shido was able to mold him into his assassin at only 15 years old. It's also worth noting that Akechi only approaches Shido with his ability to cause psychotic breakdowns. Shido is the one who teaches and instructs him to do shutdowns. He's still complicit, very sunk cost with his revenge plan, but as I spoke of here, even if he wanted to quit, he couldn't alone. Shido's cleaner and control of the law and ability to effortlessly turn him in would render the Metaverse his only safe haven. I think people look at 11/20 Akechi and Akechi in the early parts of the engine room and assume that's just his "true self," when in reality it's another mask. Royal makes it very clear because in Rank 7, he outright warns Joker of what's to come via a pool metaphor and offers an out (though he's MUCH happier if you don't take it/stick to your principles), and in Rank 8, he goes on that big "I hate you" speech... while Sunset Bridge is playing. Y'know, the song that plays at the end of most confidants to reaffirm bonds. So when he smiles as he shoots what he assumes to be Joker, that doesn't mean he's genuinely happy. More likely, he's an emotional clusterfuck, given he also is disoriented enough to namedrop "Shido-san" over the phone, and in the subsequent meeting with Shido, tells him not to kill the Phantom Thieves and that Morgana is "just a cat." Yes, he says they'll make them fear for the rest of their lives, but remember, he's talking to Shido. The things he says are likely all incredibly calculated to sound appealing to Shido. And when you consider that he planned to utterly destroy Shido's reputation after the election, the "delay" makes even more sense.

Later, Akechi goes on about how the people he induced shutdowns on were deserving of their fates, but I don't think he believes it so much as it's the only way he could convince himself that it was worth it, and given how much society failed him, and given how many of the people he targeted were likely rivals/competitors or rich fucks, I think he'd be less inclined to assume good faith. Kunikazu Okumura was not an innocent little victim, after all. He was one of the people who requested breakdowns and shutdowns the most. I think Akechi enjoyed killing him not because of how it'd hurt Haru, but because of catharsis. Because Okumura is just as monstrous as Shido, so why should he feel remorse? However, I don't believe he feels the same about Wakaba, as when he discusses her with Shido, he mentions how her fate was because she refused to willingly work for him. It's another justification, but I personally think Wakaba's death was the most painful for him because he was effectively making Futaba just like him. That's why I think his reaction to Sae threatening Sojiro's custody was genuine. Anyway, evil grinning Akechi is just another mask, as I said. Keep in mind, this is someone who laments not meeting Joker years ago, someone who Morgana outright points out is lying about his hatred. And that's the thing. Light Yagami, while a really fascinating character, is not someone who had all this childhood suffering or lack of agency. He does not regret his actions in the slightest and goes down due to his own hubris in both the anime and the manga. While you can argue that Ryuk set him up by dropping the Death Note, Light was the one who picked it up and chose to use it. Any nudging from Ryuk didn't coerce Light into doing it because Light seized the opportunity. No, if Light Yagami is like anyone in Persona 5, it's Masayoshi Shido, not Goro Akechi. Both believe they are god/god's chosen, that they are the ones who will reshape the world to their ideals, and to be frank, both use and abuse women to serve their own purposes. Goro Akechi goes down sacrificing himself for the Thieves and pleading with them to stop his father and again in Maruki's reality when he refuses to let Joker accept a gilded prison of a world for his sake when he knows better than anyone what it's like to have no true freedom. If you max his confidant, you see him in the postcredits, leaving his survival entirely possible, and I think it works because at the end of the day, Akechi was meant to be a victim and a foil. Light is a villain protagonist and a cautionary tale. Though its his POV we follow, he isn't someone we're meant to root for, but I definitely don't think enjoying the character is a bad thing at all. He's really interesting! I just think that a lot of the Akechi and Light comparisons are surface level at best.

#goro akechi #persona 5 #p5r spoilers #character analysis #long post #death note spoilers

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teddybeartoji · 3 days

Text

彡 THE WORST PARTNER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; con-artists au, crack, satoru is a little shit what's new, he also calls you 'baby' how sweet of him, hm? wc: 1.2k

on the other side of the wall, music and laughter mix together almost perfectly. the people are having fun, they're drinking and chatting, joking about the latest super cars and 'boring' paintings. rich people.

a bead of sweat rolls from your temple.

the setting sun paints the room you're in a beautiful warm orange. the big windows invite the sunrays in with open arms; they hit the mahogany wood furniture and you're a bit jealous. a bit of dust falls from the ceiling and you have to focus on not sneezing.

"ugh, we make such a good team!"

...

satoru gojo.

"we– fuck, do not!" you grumble at him through gritted teeth. "you literally left me– to the cops last time, dipshit!"

"but you got away!" he chirps back rather gleefully and the desire to punch him is suffocating.

careful as to not raise your voice too much, you whisper-shout at him. "just barely!"

"well, don't sell yourself short, babe! you do know how to work a tight spot!"

...

it hurts. his stupidity hurts your brain. squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head at his joke. "can you– be like a normal fucking person? never say that again."

your knees about to buckle from below you and you're also losing your balance alongside your patience. it's rather hard to hold a 6'3 man up on your shoulders.

who could've guessed?

more dust falls onto your nose as satoru works on unscrewing the vent in the ceiling. it's painted gold. because why wouldn't it be, right? rich people are insane.

"what do you mean?! you were in a 'tight spot' and you got out of it!" it's sickening how genuine he sounds. "get it? it's called a tight spo— "

"could you possibly– stop saying the word 'tight'?" you grip onto his polished shoe that's sitting on your right shoulder while the fingers of your other hand dig into his ankle. "and could you possibly do this any fucking faster?"

he has ruined your suit with his dirty shoes and he has ruined your mood with his stupid jokes. you hate him.

he simply laughs at your annoyed tone "almost there, baby, almost there."

you try to make him explode with your mind for calling you baby again, completely and blatantly ignoring the butterflies that now occupy your stomach. you're just a bit nervous about the job, that's all. they have nothing to do with him. nothing at all.

you hear him shuffling around, mumbling something to himself as he reaches over to the last one, but while he doing so – he ends up putting way too much pressure onto your right shoulder which in turn makes you take a wobbly step forward. satoru's hands grasp onto the wall beside him in an attempt to help you regain your balance.

"c'mon! steady now!"

"shut the– " with furrowed brows, you glance up at him. sensing your gaze, he looks down at you with the prettiest smile. no, wait. just a smile, just a smile. fuck, you really hate him. "fuck– up!"

he gives you a quick wink before continuing his work and you avert your gaze. you can already feel the bruises blooming under your suit and shirt, reminders of his touch for the continuing weeks.

"you're way heavier than you look, gojo."

the sound of his gasp, makes your eyes roll back into your head. "are you calling me fat?"'

"yes. are you done?"

he tsks at your sharp answer and pockets his mini screwdriver. "so rude. and yes, i'm ready." as he speaks he takes the cover from it's place and slides it inside the vent. "be strong now!"

refraining from barking back, you divert all of your focus onto your core muscles and thighs. satoru lodges his one leg onto one of the fancy tall cabinet and you the uneven weight almost ruins you both. holding onto the wall with your now free hand, you observe him climbing up into the vent. the leg on your shoulder shakes and wobbles, threatening to run off but satoru doesn't seem to mind. you're sure he's having fun. the shit.

he manages to get his hands inside the vent and he's now trying to jam his whole body through the hole. his foot finally rises from your shoulder and he almost hits you in the face with it as he swings it around, supposedly gaining momentum for a final push. you sigh and brush off the dirt and dust from your suit.

you look around the room as you wait for him to turn himself around in the small vent. the sun warms your skin and you take the moment to enjoy the band through the walls of the room. exquisite paintings hang all around you, hugged by dark wooden frames, they rest in the shadows. specks of dust land on your nose and you look up.

he's grinning.

oh no.

"satoru..."

your warning does nothing but excite him even further.

"oh? ...not gojo?" his smile stretches. "but you love tight spots! i'm sure you'll find another way in, babe."

you're going to kill him.

deeply breathing in through your nose, you give him the biggest and also the fakest smile in the word.

"satoru, baby..." you hate how smug he looks. you want to wipe that stupid fucking smile from his face.

"you know that i just love tight spots and that's exactly why... you should pull me the fuck up!" your whisper-shouting turns into a full bark and satoru giggles behind his hand "right. now! i don't wanna find another way when a way is literally in front of me!"

his eyes twinkle at you when he realizes you actually used his own joke against him. you're so fucking hot. and you're especially hot now that you're glaring at him with a puffed out chest. he's having the best time of his life.

"that was good. that was really good actually." he winks at you as he moves to grab the vent cover from behind him. he places it back over the hole with a painfully slow pace, surely just to make you suffer even some more. he's sick. he's still visible enough for you to see the infuriating smile on his lips as he plays with you. "you did take my keycard though."

right.

he's as bratty as they come, as pretty as they come. petty! petty...

and this is his little payback. you're going to burn his house down. preferably when he's still in it. he gets on your nerves like nothing else. his eyes fucking sparkle from between the metal bars of the vent cover and your fingers curl into tight fists on your sides.

"i hate you."

"you'll get over it, baby. i'll see you later, yeah?"

his pearly whites flash at you one last time and then he's already climbing over the cover, heading straight for the room where they keep the goodies. without you.

...

a dusty suit, sweat, aching shoulders and pure, unadulterated rage.

you need a new plan.

and a fucking drink.

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mediumgayitalian · 1 day

Text

“You ready, Lou?”

“Duh.”

“Cecil? You’ve got full faith in your cabin?”

“Yep.”

“What about you, Will? Were your threats successful?”

“My bribes went wonderfully, thank you.”

“Then I think we’re a go.”

“Gods, this is going to be great.”

———

Knockknockknock.

Nico locks in on his game. He is so, so close to finally making it through this stupid quest, he can feel it, and if he doesn’t beat The Imprisoned before Percy he’s going to set the camp on fire.

Knockknockknock.

“Just — hold on a second!” He spams B, cursing loudly to himself, ignoring the twinge in his lower back from holding this position for so long. “Fuck, fuck, come on.” He clenches his teeth, knuckles white against the Wii remote, until finally — the boss falls. He cheers.

Fuck yes. Take that, Percy.

Tossing the remote on his bed, he jogs over to the door, sliding open the three bolts and unlocking the chains. On his porch is a blur of movement, hair frizzy and pulled-on, shirt rumbled.

“Oh, hey, Annabeth.”

She barely acknowledges him, focusing intently on pacing back and forth on the stone porch at the speed of light. He settles against the door frame, stretching out his spine, watching her mutter to herself.

“Chiron is leaving,” she says.

Nico raises an amused eyebrow. “I am aware.”

“With Mr. D. To some conference.”

“I heard.”

“He’s gone until early tomorrow evening.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He left me in charge.”

“Probably wise.”

“I need an allegiance, Nico.”

“Slow down and tell me what you mean, first.”

She sighs, coming to a stop in front of him. Her fingers still drum across her biceps, and her eyes dart around, evaluating. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip.

“Camp’s a lot of work,” she says finally. “I’ve never been in charge of so many people at once before, and like hell am I gonna let Chiron think I can’t handle it. I have a Plan, and you’re a part of it.”

Nico resists the urge to groan. Chiron leaving is supposed to mean he gets the next day or so off — no classes, no socializing, nothing. Just him in his cabin and the genuinely disgusting amount of junk food he has amassed.

(…And Will. Maybe.)

“It’s nothing crazy,” she promises. “I just need you to lurk.”

“…Lurk?”

“Yeah, you know. Chill in the shadows and scare people into complacency. You don’t even need to do much, just that thing where you stare at people like you know the exact day they’re going to die.”

“I do love lurking,” Nico admits. And to basically have a free pass to scare the shit out of whoever he wants… “I’ll do it.”

She smiles brightly. “Thanks, Nico! I knew I could count on you. I’ll meet up with you right after Chiron heads out, okay? To give you a list of people to keep your eye on.”

“Sure. Bye, Annabeth.”

“See ya!”

He closes the door and pads back to his setup, shaking the remote to get it going again. He can’t quite shake the smirk off his face.

The next twenty four hours are going to rock.

———

“Swiper No Swiping, initiate phase one.”

“Roger that, Sunny Dick.”

“…I’m revoking your code name priveledges.”

“No no no, I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”

———

Before Chiron leaves, he gathers them all in the amphitheatre.

“Children,” he calls, adjusting the bow slung across his back. “I am leaving now for my conference. I will be back before the sun sets tomorrow.” He gestures towards Annabeth, standing stiffly beside him. “Annabeth is in charge. Consider all my authority transferred to her before I return, am I understood?”

“Yes, Chiron,” courses the camp, some with significantly more attitude than others. Across the gathered crowd, Will catches his eye and winks. (Well, tries to. He has yet to catch on to the fact that he cannot, actually, wink, and instead just blinks really intentionally. Kayla and Austin have sworn him to secrecy.) Nico rolls his eyes, ears burning, and looks away.

“Good. Regular rules; no maiming, killing, or injuries above level seven. Any arson will result in a revoking of dessert privileges. Yes, Julia, even if you help in putting out the arson. It is the fire that is the issue, you understand. Excellent.” He claps his hands together. “I am looking forward to one day of peace. Try to avoid ruining it for me too quickly. Goodbye, children.”

With a wave and a fond squeeze of Annabeth’s shoulder, he trots over to Half-Blood Hill, ignoring Mr. D’s loud complaining about how long he took. With a snap of Mr. D’s fingers, they disappear. For a brief, uncanny moment, everything is still.

“Alright,” Annabeth shouts, clapping her hands together. Nico jumps. “Dinner is in an hour. Whoever is the first to fuck something up will be doing dishes. I will be watching. Dismissed.”

Wading through the swathes of ambling teenagers, she walks by where Nico is leaning against a pillar, half-hidden in the shadows.

“Lurk,” she orders, passing him.

Nico shoots her a mocking salute, fading into the shadow behind him. He barely catches her grin before he dissolves into the darkness.

———

“Phase two in effect. Ready to go, Sabrina Spellman?”

“Prepped to go, Teletubbies Sun Baby.”

“I hate both of you.”

———

“Halt!”

Across the common, three suspicious figures freeze, glance behind them, and then resume walking as casually as they can.

“I said halt! Do not move! Cease all function!”

Milling nervously towards each other, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest pause, shifting the three massive cardboard boxes they hold each.

“Hi, Annabeth,” Will says, smiling innocently. Cecil and Lou Ellen match him, eyes wide, expressions angelic.

Annabeth stomps over to them, fists clenched at her sides, entirely unmoved by the cherubic display in front of her. Nico stays right where he is, hidden by the shade of Cabin Eight.

“Explain yourselves,” Annabeth orders.

The three stooges exchange a look.

“Whatever do you mean,” Lou Ellen asks, shifting the boxes to free up her hand only to place it delicately over her chest. “Why, we are only helping our dear friend William —”

“Our dear, dear friend,” Cecil adds.

“— carry these many boxes of medical supplies, so as to lower his great burden —”

“Massive burden,” Will says sagely.

“— and free up his evening in order for him to spend his limited time with us, his most cherished friends.”

“Especially cherished,” Will and Cecil chorus together.

Unable to bite back a smile, Nico rolls his eyes so hard his skull hurts. They’re not even trying to not get caught, at this point. Idiots.

Clearly agreeing, Annabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right. Boxes down, all three of you. You’re being detained for suspected illicit substances.”

“Annabeth!” Will cries, hand to his chest, “after all I do for this camp, you would accuse me of being — illicit?! Me?! The outrage! The insult! The impugn, the —”

“Can it, Solace. Open the boxes.”

Huffing in perfect unison, the three of them carefully lower their boxes to the ground.

“Tape off.”

Intentionally slowly, they run a nail along the edge of the packing tape.

“Flaps open, guys, c’mon.”

With flourish, the trio fling open the thin cardboard panels. Inside each box is rows of bandages, packaged syringes, sterile bands, tongue compresses, and more that Nico can’t name. Annabeth glares at the boxes with perhaps more disdain than the situation calls for.

Then again.

It is camp.

“See?” says Cecil, gesturing grandly. “The shipment just came in from my dad.”

Like a hound dog locking in on a bleeding squirrel, Annabeth’s eyes narrow. Her lips spread into wide, frankly maniacal smirk.

“Your dad is in a conference with the rest of the Olympians right now, Markowitz.”

Caught.

“Well,” Cecil says, and then nothing else.

“He meant it in the royal sense,” Lou Ellen pipes up in his silence. Cecil nods frantically. “You know, ‘just’ as in, like, recently, as in this morning —”

“Do you three think I’m stupid.”

“It’s just medical supplies! You can look through them if you want —”

Even if they weren’t acting like criminals, Nico knows his friends. He knows his boyfriend, especially, and recognises that damn look on his face. He can also physically see Annabeth’s stress ulcer coming back.

Closing his eyes, Nico fades into Cabin Six’s shadow. It’s a quick jump, so the stretch is easy, and the darkness bows easily to his hold. He reappears silently behind the group, taking advantage of the setting sun, and darts out to grip Lou Ellen’s arm.

“Boo,” he whispers.

She shrieks at the top of her lungs, jumping three clean feet in the air. Coincidently, the boxes of medical supplies flicker, turning into a truly baffling amount of instant mashed potato boxes.

“I knew it!” Annabeth shouts.

On cue, all three doofuses turn to Nico, jeering and complaining about ‘ruining the fun’. Nico’s glare is ineffective on Doofus #1, but the other two can be cowed. He focuses on channelling the flames of hell to reflect in his eyes like his father showed him until they look away, muttering at the ground.

“We still don’t have any illicit substances,” Will insists, glaring right back. Nico sticks out his tongue. He crosses his eyes like a four year old. How immature, honestly. “So we’re just gonna take our stuff and —”

“Absolutely not, Golden Boy. Put that hand away.”

Wisely, Will draws slowly back from the boxes, tucking his hands in his pocket.

Annabeth stares, hard, at the three of them, flicking her dark eyes from the potatoes and back. The tips of her worn-out converse tap slowly on the packed grass, tip-tap-tip-tap, as they all squirm.

Understanding dawns on her quickly.

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, for the strawberry plants.”

They squirm harder.

“Oh, you godsdamn bitches.”

“It would’ve been really funny,” Cecil mumbles, staring at the ground. “Rain making the ground turn into a sea of mashed potatoes. Like Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.”

“The only meatballs around here are the ones clogging up your skull!” Annabeth shouts, which doesn’t quite make sense but sounds clever coming from her anyway. “Who was gonna clean that up, huh? Magic?”

“I mean, probably,” Lou Ellen says, promptly shutting up at Annabeth’s glare.

“And you, Will! I cannot believe! Where is that responsibility you’re known for, huh?”

Will pouts. “I can be responsible and do fun things.”

“Fun, he says. I’m going to fucking kill you, how’s that for fun. The one day I’m left in charge, I cannot believe —”

“If it helps, it’s less about you and more about April Fools being tomorrow,” Cecil interjects tentatively. “Like, we were going to do this whether or not Chiron left.”

Annabeth glares darkly. “Of fucking course you were. It’s always you three, I swear to the gods. I should have known.”

“It’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you guys,” Nico adds. He smiles smugly at them, relishing in their rolled eyes and mocking hands. “Like, everyone expected this. You did this to yourselves, honestly.”

“Boo, you jag,” Lou Ellen protests. The other two knuckleheads joint in the booing, Will taking it an extra stop forward and blowing a raspberry, both thumbs pointing down. Nico responds with a wide grin and two middle fingers.

“Enough,” Annabeth says, rubbing her temples. “Extra chores, all three of you. Go help the cleaning harpies until sundown. And not another peep of complaint or I’ll have you on chores tomorrow, too.”

Without another glance at them, she turns around and walks away, muttering at least you caught it early at least you caught it early at least you caught it early over and over to herself.

“Pretty sure you guys have physical labour to do,” Nico says brightly when she disappears into the Big House. “I’d get started on that, if I were you.”

“Butthead,” Cecil mutters.

“Kiss-ass,” Lou Ellen agrees, making a face.

“Traitor,” Will whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he walks past.

Nico watches them go, standing guard over the boxes in case they try to come back for them.

He can’t help but think that they all look a little too jovial for having their plans ruined before they even started.

———

“Is he still looking?”

“No.”

“Okay, Phase Three, let’s go let’s go let’s go —”

———

Every time Nico wakes with the sun, he sets aside twenty minutes of his morning routine to curse Apollo, his father, Apollo again, Phanes, and Prometheus. In that order.

He does like the bonus of getting breakfast. Usually he sleeps through it and has to hope Will saved him coffee cake, which he does, every time, because he wants to bribe his way into Nico’s affections. But there is something to be said about camp coffee cake when it is still warm, crumbly on the top and soft on the inside. It is a rare and occasionally worth-it treat, and on his bleary walk to the dining pavilion, Nico tries to keep this in the forefront of his mind. Fresh coffee cake. Fresh coffee. Fresh fruit. And Will, probably, not that seeing him is worth getting up early or anything. (So what that he gets all excited and energetic when he sees Nico up in the morning. If anything it’s embarrassing for him.)

For once, he’s actually early enough that there are very few people already at breakfast. He sees most of the Athena kids, still half-asleep over their mugs, and pretty much every camper under the age of eleven. A few head counsellors, too, watching out for the little ones or catching up on a rare moment of quiet. Nico makes a beeline for the breakfast spread, cutting a slice of coffee cake to leave on the platter and putting the rest of it on his plate. He puts a single strawberry in the middle of it so no one can accuse him of being unhealthy, then ambles over to the Apollo table.

“Neeks? Where’re you going?”

Nico pauses. He shifts his plate to one hand, rubbing at his bleary eyes. He looks at the Apollo table. He counts one, two, three heads — Kayla, Austin, and…Cecil?

“Nico? You good, babes?”

He turns, slowly, to face the voice. Picking at a plate full of pineapple, next to Reika Onason, Lou Ellen's sister, is Will.

“I know mornings are hard for you, but you’re meant to eat at your table,” he teases. “Come sit, doofus. Unless you’re taking advantage of Chiron’s absence to make friends elsewhere, I guess, but it seems unlike you.”

“You’re — what’re you — what?“ Nico says dumbly, struggling to reconcile the imagine in front of him.

For some reason, Will is eating his breakfast at the Hecate table.

And that is not all.

For some reason, his camp shirt does not say head medic. For some reason, he is wearing black jeans. For some reason, dozens of Celestial bronze rings adorn his fingers, carved with sigils. For some reason, his hair is clipped back, and there is black eyeliner around his bright blue eyes, and his nails are painted darker than Nico’s, and he is sitting at the Hecate table.

“What are you doing?”

“Having…breakfast,” Will says slowly. His lips turn down in concern. “Nico, are you okay?”

“I’m fine! It’s — you’re the one acting weird!”

Will and Reika exchange a look.

“Maybe you should go see Cecil,” Will suggests carefully. “Did you sleep okay last night? Maybe you hit your head —”

Nico looks desperately back at the Apollo table. They watch him strangely now, too, and after a second Cecil gets up from his — Will’s — seat, and walks over.

“Everything okay?” he asks, impish expression almost serious. “You look pale, Nico.”

“I’m worried,” Will says. “He’s acting — confused, Cece, maybe there’s a —”

“I’m not confused,” Nico scowls. “You two are — doing something.” He gestures vaguely between them. “As revenge for yesterday.”

Will snorts. “What, the potatoes? Don’t let Lou hear you discredit her like that. If you think she’d plan some revenge prank on you this early, you don’t know her at all.”

Nico’s head starts to hurt. He sets down his plate, rubbing his temples. Why would Lou Ellen be so bothered by that? Why isn’t she here, with her sister? What the hell is going on?

“Both of you — cut it out. Whatever dumbass prank you’re pulling is just stupid.”

“Did I hear something about a prank?” Bounding over from the camp store, arms laden with contraband junk food, is Lou Ellen, smiling brightly. “Whatever it is, I want in!”

“Oh, thank the gods, you’re back.” Will makes grabby hands at the pile. She tosses him a pack of twizzlers off the top, rolling her eyes as he tears into like he didn’t just polish off two and a half entire pineapples and three bowls of oatmeal. “I was going through withdrawal.”

“I’m not helping you when your stomach cramps up,” Cecil promises, snorting. His eyes follow the candy ropes in their harried journey towards Will's gaping maw. “You can sit in your misery.”

“Bleh bleh bleh.”

Nico narrows his eyes at them. Clearly, they’re all in on this — bit, or whatever it is. It’s a little too coordinated to be a quickly-planned revenge prank. They must have had a backup to the potatoes, although a pretty weak one. Unless they somehow managed to bribe the entire camp into agreeing to act along with their dumbassery, and Nico knows none of them can come even close to affording that, then all it takes is one person on Nico’s side before their little ruse is broken.

“It’s too early for this,” Nico says, interrupting their bickering. He picks up his breakfast and trudges off to his actual table, ignoring Will’s pouting. He has to brush the dust off the bench, but it’s worth it to avoid whatever headache the three of them will inevitably give him.

Coffee cake, save him.

———

“It’s not looking good, Katara —”

“I actually like that one.”

“— he’s totally onto us.”

“Just stick to the plan. Power onto Phase Four.”

———

To Nico's great satisfaction, many other people do double takes as they walk into breakfast.

As the Athena table, minus Annabeth, who is likely putting out a literal or metaphorical fire somewhere, wakes up, they start to notice the strange seating situation. It starts with Malcolm, who stares at Cecil in a lab coat with the same expression Nico has seen him wear when attempting to solve the Hodge conjecture. He leans over to murmur something in his brother’s ear, and then all seven of them are looking between the Hecate, Apollo, and mostly-empty Hermes tables with suspicious frowns and furrowed brows.

Nico catches Will’s eye, smirking.

Game’s up, he mouths. Will only shrugs innocently at him.

It’s Annabeth who finally puts a stop to the nonsense, striding in at the tail end of the rest of the slowly-waking crowd. She has grass in her hair and murder in her eyes.

Excellent.

“I swear to the gods, I just dealt with you three,” she snaps, raising her voice so they all can hear her. Coincidentally, it attracts the attention of every other nosy person at camp, which is everybody. “Just ‘cause Chiron’s not here doesn’t mean the rules go out the window. Back to your tables, let’s move.”

“We’re at our tables,” Cecil protests. “Why do people keep saying that?”

Annabeth takes a very deep, very long breath. She has a whole day of this, too. How unfortunate for her.

“Maybe because you are full of shit, Markowitz. Go sit with the rest of you troublemakers.”

Kayla clears her throat. “Annabeth, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Her thin eyebrows are drawn tightly together, lips turned down into a frown. “Cecil is exactly where he’s supposed to be.”

That gives her pause.

That gives a lot of people pause. Nico sets down his coffee cake.

“Cecil’s at the Apollo table,” Annabeth says slowly.

Kayla meets her gaze, face creased in concern. “...Yeah, I know.”

“Cecil is a Hermes kid, Kayla.”

She snorts. “Yeah, sometimes I think so, too. But as much as I would absolutely love to trade my brother —”

“Hey!”

“He’s a healer, Annabeth. He got claimed and everything.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Annabeth says, dragging her hand down her face. “Kayla, I don’t know what they paid you —”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” With a clatter of plates, Will clambers on the table, clapping his hands. “Your attention please, everyone!”

Without so much as a pause, Will claps his hands together. Immediately, a ball of green light expands from them, flashing almost too bright to look at. Nico watches, slack jawed, as he tosses it into the air, making it explode into a thousand little sparkles, descending gently over everyone’s heads. The little kids laugh in delight, reaching for them like they’re bubbles.

“Does that settle things?” he demands.

Silence rings for one, two, three seconds.

The camp erupts.

Dozens of voices overlap, all shouting over each other at once. Hands gesture wildly at Will, at Cecil, at Lou — trying to piece things together. Will is their head medic — isn’t he? Then why is Cecil wearing scrubs? And why is Lou chilling at the Hermes’ table, chatting with Julia over a bowl of cereal? Something isn’t right.

“Just — everybody quiet!”

It takes a minute, but everyone settles down, sitting back in their seats and fidgeting, looking around with half-confused, half-amused smiles. Like they’re laughing at a joke they’re half convinced is real.

“Who thinks this —” Annabeth makes some vaguely indicative movement at Will, Lou, and Cecil — “is weird? Raise your hand.”

Almost all hands go up. Only a handful stay down — Will, Lou Ellen, and Cecil, of course, but the entirety of the Hermes cabin stays oddly silent, as do Kayla, Austin, Reika, and, shockingly, Clovis.

“Stoll,” Nico demands before Annabeth gets the chance, “you’re buying this?”

“Buying what?” Connor says after a moment. He shrugs, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m just chillin’ with my sister, Nico. Cecil is great, but he hasn’t been in our cabin since he got claimed.”

The rest of the Hermes kids nod in agreement. Whispers filter through the tables — first Kayla, now all the Hermes kids?

“If I may,” interjects Clovis, yawning. “There’s an…energy, around.”

“Gods, yeah, I was feeling it too,” Will agrees frantically. “Almost a…blanket, of some kind. Something heavy and stifling.”

Malcolm looks over with interest. “You think we got cursed, or something? The whole camp?”

Will shrugs. “Maybe? Can’t think of any other reason you guys are remembering things weird.”

“It could be a god’s interference,” Nyssa suggests, raising her voice to be heard from the Hephaestus table. “I mean, that’s what happened to Jason and Leo and Piper, right? Their memories got fudged.”

“Yeah, but camp-wide…”

“Could still be possible.”

“There’s no way! They’re fucking with us, come on —”

It doesn’t take long for the arguing to start up again. This time, though, more people looked spooked — more people look to the dumbass trio themselves, eyes wide like they’re looking at ghosts.

Like they’re believing this shit.

Nico scowls, shoving away from his table and stomping over to his boyfriend.

“You are so full of shit I can smell you from across the room,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He wiggles his fingers in Nico’s direction. They spark with the same green light. “Want me to switch your eyes and ears again?”

That sounds horrifying. “Try it and die.”

“Alright, grouchy.” He holds his hands up, stepping back from Nico’s glare. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Alarm bells go off in Nico’s head. This is more than just strange, it’s wrong. And not just ‘cause he looks different — so what if he looks different. Will could shave his head bald and tattoo himself purple, Nico wouldn’t care.

But his aura.

The essence of Will, that Nico has grown so used to be stopped noticing. The quiet, warmth strength, the feeling of a soft breeze in the summer, of walking past a window in the late afternoon, of smokey August campfires and scratchy guitar, is gone. Is different, rather; almost blocked. It feels like a cloud blowing over the sun, making everything warped and off and shadowy.

Something is afoot. Something is wrong, and not just some vague, made-up spell like the Trickster Trio would have the camp believe. Something like smoke and mirrors, something shadier.

He watches Will fall into step next to Cecil, ducking away from his ruffling hand. He frowns.

If there’s one thing Nico can do, it’s wade through the shadows.

———

#can anyone guess what these dumb ass mother fuckers did.#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo & will solace #solangelo #established solangelo #will solace & cecil markowitz & lou ellen blackstone #annabeth chase #nico di angelo & annabeth chase #my writing #fic #longpost

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sometimesanalice · 2 days

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Make Me Your Masterpiece

Summary: Bob credits you for helping him to find his new hobby. And when he asks if he can you paint you, you find you quite like the idea of being his muse.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, smut, and basically an ode to Lewis Pullman’s hands (mdni)

(Author’s Note: smutty fics are the new friendship bracelet, spread the word! Happy Birthday, Ames! 🎉 @laracrofted)

You’ve always had a thing for Bob’s hands.

They were one of the first things you noticed about him that day at the coffee shop almost a year ago now.

You’d been reaching for your iced vanilla cinnamon latte when a big hand had wrapped around it just a half of a second before you could grab it. Which you wouldn’t have minded admiring them for a moment under any other circumstances, but after an endless string of meetings you’d been in a dire need of a caffeine fix- and not the weak stuff that people brewed in your office’s communal coffee pot.

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” the coffee thief backpedaled.

The next thing you knew you were looking into the prettiest pair of ocean blue eyes.

The two of you were startled out of the moment when the barista called out the next order as they’d set it on the counter.

By some kismet or fate, they had been a matching set. But instead of embroidered towels, it was his and hers coffee cups with your names written on them in a hasty scrawl.

Realization dawned over his features as he gave you a sheepish smile, “Think this one might belong to you, Miss.” He spun the coffee until he found the spot with your name. That little smile becoming a full grin as he’d said it aloud before passing the cup to you.

The hands had been good, the eyes had been great, but Bob’s smile directed at you had left you weak in the knees.

You’d been a goner right then and there.

And while you’d ended up almost ten minutes late to your next meeting, you’d also gone back to the office with his phone number written on a cardboard coffee sleeve that was tucked away safely in your purse and a date lined up later that week.

As it turned out fate had a name and it was Robert Floyd.

Barely twenty minutes into your first official date with Bob, his ears had turned a delightful shade of pink as his anxious fingers straightened the silverware on the white linen tablecloth of the Italian spot he’d taken you to. He’d fessed up and apologized as he came clean, telling you that he’d purposefully ordered the same coffee as you in hopes of getting to start up a conversation with the pretty girl who’d been standing in front of him in line.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, since you looked busy. But I didn’t want to miss my chance,” he’d confessed over candlelight.

He’d told you how he’d only been at the coffee shop because he’d recently returned from a deployment and was fighting the jetlag that came with adjusting to being back on Pacific Standard Time, and that he normally preferred tea but he needed something with a bit more to it to get him through the day.

Instead of getting up and taking the bottle of wine to-go as a consolation prize, like you would have if it had been anyone else, his genuine earnestness had charmed you instantly. And you’d settled on having a second date with him before the first one had even really started.

You only let him sweat it for about thirty seconds before you took pity on him. With a light fingertip, you traced along one of the veins on the back of his hand and simply asked, “So other than being a meet cute mastermind, what is it that you do for a living, Bob?”

It was the best first date you’d ever had.

For your second date with him, you’d bought tickets to a ‘Paint and Sip’ event at a buzzy new bistro in town your friend had told you about.

You weren’t an artist by any means, but during that dinner date his antsy fingers and expressive hands had clued you into how nervous he’d been. You’d found your eyes drifting to them on more than one occasion. Partly because they were so enticingly disproportionate to the rest of him, but also because you couldn’t look him directly in the eye for too long without feeling your face heating up.

You thought it would be a good way for the both of you to work past the getting-to-know-you jitters, something that would keep your hands and eyes occupied enough to relax a bit more and have fun together.

Although instead of the seascape class you’d thought you’d signed up for, you’d willingly paid $86+ tax to watch Bob’s lithe, long fingers delicately grip a paintbrush in a way you thought was going to make you lose your mind.

You’d spent the whole first hour trying and failing to mix the perfect shade of blue before giving up when you’d realized that the man next to you, in addition to having really great hands, was also very good at painting.

Bob had seemed surprised by that too because he’d kept flushing that wonderful shade of pink that had quickly become your new favorite color every time you complimented his piece.

He had steady, capable hands. But you were quickly learning that everything about Bob Floyd seemed that way. There was a quiet confidence about him. He didn’t shy away from the way he’d openly observed you, like you were a riddle he was enjoying learning to decode.

You’d never known a man to be so attentive until him.

Bob’s tongue was peeking out as he’d worked on adding some wispy clouds to the top of his piece. You weren’t even sure what step you’d technically stopped at before you’d given up to watch the visual feast of him painting instead. Only halfheartedly adding random bits to your canvas along the way to make sure it wasn’t totally blank by the end of the session.

You’d been so zoned out watching him create that it was like a slow-motion sequence in a horror movie. You’d reached out for your wine glass, lifting it to your lips to take a sip, it had only taken you a split second to realize it wasn’t the full-bodied red you’d ordered that was coating your tongue, but the murky, gritty paint water instead.

Mortified, you’d looked over just in time to see Bob’s empathetic wince. You’d been hoping to fly under the radar, but it had turned out that you’d had more than one set of eyes on you.

“And we officially have our first casualty of the evening, folks,” the instructor cheerily announced to the group, “The rest of you can breathe easy now!”

You wanted to be able to laugh at your own expense, but you’d groaned as you buried your face in your hands.

It was not the way you saw the night going. You wanted to be dazzling, you wanted that pivotal third date with him. But now you were the girl who drank paint water whose canvas looked like it had all the same efforts as an enthusiastic fourth grader.

Bob’s hands had gently wrapped around your wrists before he’d pulled them from your face. And then he’d leaned in close, taking your chin in his hand and kissed you squarely on the lips, his tongue dipping in and sliding against yours to taste the acrylic pigment from your surprised mouth.

“Huh,” he’d said, contemplatively. He’d pulled away only far enough to look into your eyes and give you a soft smile. “Celadon blue doesn’t taste like a Cabernet, go figure.”

He brushed a light kiss against your cheek as he’d passed you your wine glass so that you could rinse the paint water taste out of your mouth.

You couldn’t help but to still be a little embarrassed, but then you’d caught the way he’d shoot an unimpressed look at the instructor every time they passed by for the rest of the evening. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor when you had a Bob Floyd with a paintbrush and a cutting side eye.

You took him home with you that night and learned for yourself just how capable those hands of his were.

It was only later that you realized the exact shade of blue that you’d been trying so hard to capture earlier that night was the same color as the eyes that gazed down at you as Bob fucked you for the very first time.

There was no way you could have known that the ‘Paint and Sip’ date would have inspired him to pick up painting as a hobby.

First, he’d started taking classes at the Rec Center. His once a week classes later turned into him checking out books from the library. And then he’d turned his spare bedroom into a studio, as it has the best afternoon light in the Spanish style house he rents near the Naval base. He’d even bought a comfy chair for you to curl up in as he painted, a little nook of your own in his favorite space in his home. And steadily, the walls of both your apartment and his place fill up with all of his creations.

You’d even had your favorite one professionally framed. The pretty landscape done in shades of soft greens that he gave to you for your birthday hangs in a place of honor above your bed. You like having that piece of Bob as one of the last things you see before you fall asleep and one of the first things you see in the morning on the rare occasion the two of you aren’t sharing a bed. You liked to imagine the hours he spent on it with the sunlight streaming through the open window as he lovingly and painstakingly created something just for you with his own two hands.

Although you did have to beg him to sign it for you. He claimed that since he does it for fun that there’s really no reason too, but you were adamant about it and he’d eventually caved and scrawled his name in the lower right-hand corner.

Now it’s become your personal mission to ensure that every Bob Floyd original has his signature on it when he gives his paintings out as gifts.

Everyone assumes that his art would be all straight lines and precise angles, but it’s your favorite moment when people get to see his abstract landscapes. He’d told you he spends so much time in the sky that he likes to paint what’s on the ground, the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s 50,000 feet in the air.

You could tell Bob was a little nervous when he first asked to paint you.

After almost a year with him, you’d think he’d know by now that you’d do anything for him. Not to mention, you were more than a little in love with the idea of being his muse.

“Are you saying you want to paint me like one of your French girls?” you’d teased with a grin, unable to resist the opportunity. You always did have a thing for men with perfectly floppy hair.

He’d tipped your chin up so that you were looking into his blue eyes- a color you were positive couldn’t be replicated- and stated, “No, I want to paint you like my girl.”

Which is how you’ve ended up naked on the floor of his living room.

You’d been surprised when you came downstairs to see that the furniture had all been pushed to the side to make space for the king-sized top sheet he’d laid out on the floor. You figured it must have been from some mismatched set he had stashed in his linen closet because you’d never seen it before and you spent more than enough time in his bed getting familiar with his sheets.

Bob was shirtless and wearing only a pair of loose-fitting and paint stained jeans that were hanging low on his hips as he worked on getting all of his brushes and paints set up.

You were pretty sure that Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to do proper justice to Bob’s body. He wasn’t as built as some of his friends on the Dagger Squad were, but there was an undeniable sturdy steadfastness to him. Those defined shoulders and arms often were the stars of your afternoon daydreams, since you got to admire his handsome face anytime your phone lit up.

He came and met you at the bottom of the stairs, giving you a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you as pretty as a picture in my shirt.”

“Oh,” you’d said, feigning surprise and toying with the hem, “So it is.” And then you’d slowly lifted it up and off of you, revealing more of your body to his artist’s eye.

You never felt as good about yourself as you did when you were naked in front of Bob. The color of his morning skies eyes would always darken to a deep shade of Prussian blue as he took in the curves of you. With him you always felt appreciated, wanted, desired.

His greedy hands came to grip your hips pulling you to him until you were pressed against him.

“Is this how you wanted me?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

Bob slipped his hand behind your neck and tugged you in for a heated kiss. “I always want you.”

You never knew true distraction until you’d felt Bob’s lips against yours all those months ago. You’d happily lose minutes, hours, days to them. The thing about Bob is that he never does anything halfway. If he’s kissing you, he’s doing it thoroughly until you’re out of breath.

The sound of the air conditioner kicking on and the light draft that it coasted over you reminded you that there were other plans on the agenda. And that the sooner he starts, then the sooner he finishes, and the sooner you can feel his lips on other parts of you.

“Where do you want me?”

“In my bed,” he murmured against your lips.

His name started as a laugh but turned into a sigh as he dropped a line of kisses down your neck, “I meant, like on the couch or on one of the chairs from the kitchen.”

Bob pulled away and peered deep into your eyes, “Darlin’, I wanted to paint you.” He trailed a teasing finger down your soft stomach. “If that’s alright with you.”

You thought you were just going to be his subject, but as it turns out he wanted you to be his canvas too.

You’re trying not to shiver as he meticulously coats your overheated skin with cool paint. Goosebumps follow in the wake of every delicate stroke he makes along your body.

His hair was curled over his forehead in a way that had your fingers aching to touch him. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the deliberate lines and curves he painted on you. The paint smudge on his cheek only made him all the more attractive to you.

Bob had tucked a pillow beneath your head before he’d started, a gesture that you appreciated now because time had lost all meaning to you. You had no idea how long you’ve been lying there. You were pretty sure every inch of you had to be covered by now.

He’d started along the plane of your stomach and steadily worked his way out from there. Up your arms. Along your clavicle. Over your breasts and tops of your thighs. You didn’t miss the way he’d smirked when you arched into that soft to the touch paintbrush as it glided over your peaked nipple. Or the way he’d hummed pleased when you’d try to subtly rub your thighs together to relieve the need that had been building as you laid there.

Bob loves taking his time with you. In bed, he loved teasing you until you had tears in your eyes and were begging for his cock. And it became clear very quickly that this would be no different.

There was an electric thrum that was pulsing through your body with every dip and swirl and brushstroke. The muscles of your stomach jump involuntarily as the fine hairs of his paintbrush drift over your hypersensitive skin making you whimper.

He tsks, “Gotta stay still for me, pretty girl. I’m almost done, promise.”

You release a shaky sigh and nod, not trusting your voice to betray just how needy you were for him. Although the self-satisfied smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

You try to control your breathing as he works on finishing, but your shallow breaths sounded loud in his living room. You love getting to watch him work normally, but the intense way he is looking at you- his eyes your favorite shade of Prussian blue now- is too much for your hummingbird heart.

Just as your skin was collecting layers of paint from his brush, the space between your thighs was steadily collecting your wetness. You were so desperate for him to touch you, the need made you want to crawl out of your skin.

You hear the sound of a watery swish and the clink of a brush against glass and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation.

“God, look at you,” Bob breathes, reverently, “You’re so beautiful. This might be my best work ever.”

Instead of the paintbrush, you can feel the path of his flame blue gaze traveling over you as he takes in the art he’s made out of you.

You open your heavy eyes and see Bob wiping off his hands with a frayed towel.

“There she is,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your toes curl. You didn’t notice it sitting there with all his paints until he was reaching for it, his dad’s old film camera. He holds it loosely in front of him like a question, “Can I take a few just for me?”

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

You trusted Bob more than any other man you’d ever been with. He’s never once given you reason to doubt his words because his actions always spoke for themselves.

The guys you’d been with before had been boys, Bob Floyd was a man.

The tension between the two of you is thicker than the acrylic he’d been using earlier as he snaps photo after photo. You admire the way his muscles shift as he bends and angles himself to get the perfect images.

He stands over you, the lens pointed down at you, “Look at me.”

You can barely breathe. You feel yourself getting even wetter at the thought of seeing yourself through his eyes. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

“I know,” he hums, “You’ve been so good for me.” He sinks to his knees between your legs and hooks a hand behind your knee, pulling it up so it’s propped on the floor. And then he does the other so that you’re sprawled open for him, just the way he likes you to be, “Just one more, darlin’.”

The heat in his eyes has dried up all the words in your mouth.

He trails a finger down the soft skin of your inner thigh and you gasp.

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

“You’ve made such a pretty mess,” he drawls, as he gently sets the camera on the floor next to you. “It’s a good thing I put something down. You’re damn near dripping.”

“Bob, please.” You arch towards him like a flower in the sun.

He settles between your thighs and pushes them apart further so that his broad shoulders fit between them. The paint is still drying on your skin, but neither one of you cares about that now.

“You were so perfect for me. I appreciate you staying so still.” He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, I know just how to thank you.”

Your body jolts at the first touch of his tongue on your clit. You can feel his smile against you, he knows exactly what he does to you.

Bob has always eaten you out like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.

Normally, he’s teasing you with gentle licks and tracing nonsensical shapes on your clit with his tongue until you’re a squirming mess for him. He knows your body so well, always building you up to the point where you’re breaths away from tipping over the edge and then pulls himself back before building you right back up again.

But tonight, there’s nothing playful about the way his mouth is working against you. His hot mouth is sealed to your clit. Bob hums in satisfaction with every keen and whine that he pulls out of you. He laves at you until you’re writhing underneath him, your thighs already shaking.

“Wanna paint you just like this,” he murmurs, sucking at the spot where your leg and hip meet. “But I don’t think you’d stay still long enough for me to finish.”

Bob dips down and gives you another long broad stroke of his tongue. He pulls back only long enough to spit on your cunt before diving right back in, chasing after his own taste on you.

Your hands are in his hair. Clutching at his shoulders. It’s taken him no time at all getting you to the point where you’re trembling and taut.

All the air leaves your lungs when he buries two large fingers into you. Your hips cant into his mouth on their own and he moans. Bob wraps an arm around your hips and presses down on your lower stomach to hold you in place.

You feel the pain smear beneath his warm palm. You were dying to see it. You hoped there was a handprint- his handprint- that disrupted all the lines and swirls of color that he’d decorated you with. Something that was distinctly him.

You were wearing his art and now you’re wearing him. The evidence of this moment in time on your skin.

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

“You cock, Bob, I need your cock,” you pant, tugging at his hair.

He meanly sucks your clit into his mouth in a way that has you crying out and jerking against him. You love it, you love him.

“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he licks into you again, “Sweetest sound in the world.”

Bob drops a sweet kiss on your clit, it’s a stark difference to the filthy way he’d been using his mouth on you. He rises to sit back on his knees between your parted legs.

He looks so good kneeling above you the way that he is. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. That knot behind your bellybutton twists tighter because you did that to him.

He unzips his jeans and tugs them down low enough to pull his hard cock out.

It’s pretty enough to be featured in a gallery, you think to yourself, even in your desperate haze. It’s long, thick, perfect and yours.

Bob smirks when he notices you admiring him, pumping himself slowly a few times for your viewing pleasure.

The only time Bob Floyd was ever a show-off was when he was in bed.

He grabs your thighs and pulls them over top of his own, so that yours are draped over his obscenely, and then he thrusts easily into you.

You gasp at the sensation of being so full of him. It always takes you a minute to adjust to his cock, no matter how many times you’ve taken it now. His thumbs make little circles along your hipbones as your body relents and yields to the size of him.

“There you go,” he says, rocking into you, working you open, “Just needed this cock, didn’t you?”

You whimper your agreement. Your hips tilt into the pressure like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Wanting to show him how much you can take. You know you’ll never get enough of him.

He fucks into you at a reckless and unrelenting pace. You’re high off the feeling of seeing Bob like this, that you’re the one who gets to see him unreserved and uninhibited. He has your hips gripped so tightly, keeping you closer than close. And when you clench around him, you’re treated to a wrecked groan.

Your skin prickles with desire and the feeling of paint drying on you. His cock is hitting just the right spot inside of you and you know you won’t be able to hold off for much longer, not with the way he’s grinding against your aching clit.

Bob’s eyes glued to the spot where you two come together. You’re on full display for him. He watches the way you stretch and spread around him with every deep thrust with the same appreciative gaze that he admires his favorite artists.

It’s under his river blue gaze that your orgasm swiftly sweeps you away. And with your back arching and thighs quaking around his, you give yourself up to the endless current of it.

You know he’s close when his hips start to stutter.

Bob pulls out of you and wraps his large hand around his slick-shined cock and works himself with rough, purposeful strokes.

This time he paints you with himself, his come covering your stomach.

The only sound in the room is the two of you breathing hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Bob huffs, raggedly, taking in his handiwork, “You’re my masterpiece.”

You’re covered in paint and come, but you’ve never felt more beautiful than you do right now as he looks down at you in awe.

“Did you remember to sign your work this time?” you ask, out of breath but teasingly.

“I think I left my mark, darlin’,” he says, with well-earned smugness in his voice. You can’t help but giggle. He flops down next to you, throwing his arm over his eyes, “Goddamn.”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows to look at yourself.

“Baby, I think you gave Jackson Pollock a run for his money.” You grin widely when he lets out an amused snort. “Wait, where’s your camera?”

He passes it to you, the fondness in his eyes makes your chest feel warm. You scooch in close to him and hold it up above your heads, the camera flashes when you kiss his flushed cheek.

That picture is the first one that gets put up in the new house, the one the two of you chose together when he asked you to marry him six months later. Followed by the soft green landscape that now hangs above your shared bed.

It’s your favorite picture of the two of you, happy and in love. You can just see a hint of the cloud he’d painted on your shoulder.

That night Bob had decorated your body with the place he loved best.

He gave you the sky and he made you his world.

Happy birthday, Ames! Your gift will be mailed eventually, it really was a lesson in chemistry, lol! Enjoy a Bob fic just for you in the meantime!

A big, bigggg thank you to the Bob Babes/Lew Crew girlies! @callsignspark and @attapullman I appreciate you two so much for being such ultimate hypegirls! And thank you to @theharddeck, you helped me out of my writers block and I've been so excited to write this since we talked about it back in January!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd fic #bob x you #bob x reader

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lalunalando · 22 hours

Text

Ruins - CS55

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warnings: 18+! minors dni! smut, fluff, teasing, car sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap)

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Mallorca was a place that unless you had been there to see it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t believe such a place could be real.

Yet here you were, laughing along with your boyfriends family, glass of wine in one hand and his hand in the other, enjoying the beautiful weather at his family’s holiday home on the beautiful island.

Looking beside you, you couldn’t help the genuine smile planted peacefully on your face as Carlos joked around with his cousins, looking carefree amongst the people who made him the happiest in this world, which for the past few years has included you.

“So how are you enjoying mallorca so far?” His mother asks from across the table, bringing your attention back to the conversation amongst the women.

“I have never seen a place more beautiful, it’s like you take a breath in and you’re instantly at peace” you respond with a smile, feeling Carlos squeeze your hand to remind you he’s still there.

“We’re so glad you were able to make it this time, Carlos was so insufferable last holidays, always sulking about how much he misses you” his younger sibling Ana teases from the end of the table, earning a grape thrown at her by the embarrassed man to your right.

“I wasn't sulking!” he argues back with a pout.

“cabron, you spent more time pouting at her social medias than actually having a conversation with us” his best friend Roberto shot back from his other side, earning him a sharp elbow to the side.

“aww, obsessed much? i might have to tell my boyfriend i have a stalker” you jokingly teased, making his family burst out laughing around the table.

The Sainz family had been nothing but warm and welcoming since the first time you had met them, instantly accepting you into the family and making you comfortable.

Not having such a close relationship with your own family, this had meant the world to you that without a second thought they had welcomed you into theirs with open arms, Ana and Blanca instantly swapping secrets and clothes with you, Reyes showing you how to cook Carlos’ favorite meals for every mood, Carlos Sr teaching you everything motorsports related he could (excited when he learnt you were already a fan of it before and eager to learn the ins and outs of the industry), Caco making sure you were always safe on race weekends and taken as care of as Carlos was by the team, and even Teto who became a like an older brother figure to you (bullying included.)

You felt safe, you felt home, and you could never love anyone more than the man beside you.

The only downside you had found to this beautiful family trip, was the lack of alone time you and Carlos had been granted.

It had been a bit of a rough season so far, with his contract with Ferrari being announced to be ending at the end of the season, meaning while he was having an extremely impressive year on track, he spent every other moment off track in talks with other teams for a contract for the next season.

Luckily, he was in high demand so there was no issue with obtaining one, it was just about choosing who would be the best fit for him, and it had to be decided by the end of this summer holiday.

All you wanted was a little alone time, starting to grow needy by the day and constantly reminded by the teasing touches your boyfriend would leave you with, like right now as he ran his fingers along your thigh under the table.

It was frustrating, any time something was about to happen between the two of you, someone would pop up.

Like this morning, a heavy make out session brought on by his morning wood poking into your back when you woke up? Interrupted by his mother knocking on the bedroom door letting you know breakfast would be ready in 5 minutes.

Last night in the pool, thinking everyone else had well and truly gone to bed? Roberto cannonballing into the pool after noticing you two were still up to annoy.

You loved them all, and you couldn’t be more grateful, but you were getting needy and desperate for your boyfriend.

”Caro, are you feeling okay? you zoned out on us…” Reyes asks with concern, nodding for Ana beside you to top up your water for you.

“Oh i’m so sorry, must have just had a little too much wine before properly eating, i’m okay!” you assure her, gulping as Carlos’ hand trails further up your thigh.

She just nods with a smile before resuming conversation around the table

“Carlos behave, we are at lunch with your family.” you hiss quietly at him, leaning over to him so no one else could hear the conversation you two were having.

“but conejita, i can’t stop thinking about this morning, you looked so pretty all flushed just from a few kisses, so desperate for me” he responded, his breath tickling your neck and making you almost choke on the sip of wine you were taking.

“Please excuse me, i just need to go make a quick call home before it gets too late over there” you quickly stood up and made an excuse to step away for a second, unable to endure Carlos right now.

Stepping into the kitchen once inside, you braced yourself against the marble countertop and focused on calming yourself down again.

You could feel your skin burning from his touch and the wetness pooling in your panties from all the teasing he was doing, torturing you endlessly.

So focused on trying to regain your composure, you hadn't noticed Carlos come in behind you until he was winding his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest, making sure you felt just how much he was also suffering with his jeans feeling especially tight against his crotch right now.

“Amor, are you okay? you look a little flushed” he smirks as he kisses down your neck.

“are you okay” you respond in a mocking tone, “of course i’m not okay Carlos, you can’t keep your hands to yourself and we haven’t had a moment alone in a week now!”

“aww, is my pretty baby getting needy?” he teases in response, hands starting to wander down to the hem of the short sundress you had opted to wear today.

You turned around quickly, placing your hands on his chest and pushing him away lightly to stop his torment.

“don’t act like it’s just me struggling, your zip looks like it might burst any minute now, might want to go take care of that mi amor” Placing a light kiss on his lips before returning to the group outside before he could react.

“So do you guys have anything planned for the rest of the evening?” Blanca asks as you settle back into the group, Carlos following right behind you.

“I was thinking about taking her down to the ruins for the sunset and a beach walk” Carlos responds quickly, grabbing your hand on top of the table as you tilt your head in confusion at him.

“Oh that sounds wonderful hijo, i’m sure she’s going to love that!” Reyes smiles at you both

“the ruins? there’s ruins here?” you ask excitedly, being a known nerd for that sort of thing.

“si, Necropolis de Son Real, it´s an old cemetery from the roman era and before” he smiles as he squeezes your hand, seeing your eyes light up in excitement.

Suddenly you hear an exaggerated sigh from beside carlos, before Teto speaks up

“So you're both abandoning me for the evening to look at nerd shit? Why do you hate me?” sending the table into a fit of laughter as he fake cried.

An hour later, you and Carlos were loading into his Ferrari to head down to the coastal ruins.

A 30 minute drive, but it was uninterrupted time together that you were looking forward to just spending in the presence of your boyfriend.

The smooth Ferrari 812 Competizione roaring to life under you, Carlos gives you a sweet smile as you set off, letting you have control of the radio as per your usual passenger princess duties.

Carlos couldn’t help but look at you lovingly while you sang along to “i like the way you kiss me” by Artemas, dancing in the little ways you could while remaining seated.

“i like the way you kiss me, i can tell you miss me

i can tell it hits, hits, hits, hits

not tryna be romantic, i’ll hit it from the back

just so you don’t get attached”

“mi amor, hitting it from the back is what got me attached, have you seen your ass?” he smirks as you swat his arm.

“i should have known you were just with me for my ass” you sigh.

“of course not conejita” he says as he squeezes your thigh before laughing, “you have a nice set of tits too”

Reaching the Santa Margalida coast, you were stunned by the beautiful coastline that awaited you. Getting to the ruins was going to be a bit of a walk but you were too excited to care.

Carlos watched in awe as you skipped up the trail, hair flowing behind you as a breeze moved your dress around your legs, he couldn’t believe he had been so lucky to find someone so beautiful and supportive, someone his family adored, someone he couldn’t wait to spend forever with.

“Carlitos look! look at the cool tomb remains” you exclaim as you finally reach the site

“thankyou so much for bringing me here, i love it so much, this is the coolest thing ever!”

”Mi cariño, i would do anything to make you as happy as you make me by just existing” he responds as he wraps you in his arms and places a kiss to your hair

You spent the next hour exploring around and taking pictures of the site, as Carlos secretly took pictures of you in your element.

Once you had explored it all, he held his hand out for you to take as you started the long trek back to the car.

“so, what has been your favorite thing about this trip so far?” he asks genuinely as you walk down the coastal beach.

“hmmm i’d love to say it was definitely the ruins, but my real favorite thing has been spending time with you and your family. Seeing how happy and carefree you are, i couldn’t love it more” you smile back.

“even though we’ve had no time alone until now?” he says as he pulls you in to wrap his arm around your shoulder.

“don’t get me wrong, i can’t wait to have you to myself in our apartment again” you laugh in response.

As you’re about 10 minutes away from the car, a summer shower starts as the sun goes down, making you and Carlos laugh as you run the rest of the way back to the car hand in hand, clothes sticking to you both the wetter they got.

Jumping back into the car, you couldn’t stop laughing about the unexpected turn of events as Carlos just admired the carefree attitude you showed towards it.

His exes before you would have cursed him out, probably blamed him for the weather shift or at the very least for not warning them (like he knew it was going to happen).

It would have led to fights that lasted days, him eventuality having to be the one to apologize even though he had done nothing wrong.

But you? you were sat in the passenger seat, laughing as you tried to unstick your dress from your skin, not phased at all that it had happened.

Without a second thought, Carlos reached over and grabbed your face, smashing his lips to yours like he needed the air in your lungs to breathe.

As you both pulled away for air, you gave him a confused look.

“not that i'm complaining, but what was that for? are you okay” you ask.

“i couldn’t be happier, just looking at you makes me realize how lucky i am to have you, i really do love you” he answers sincerely.

You smile and bring him into another kiss, enjoying this peaceful moment shared by just the two of you.

The sun having now set, no one around, just you and your lover.

The peace doesn’t last long though, as Carlos is getting hungrier for you as the kisses deepen.

Before long, he’s moving his seat back as far as it will go and pulling you over the center and onto his lap, making you straddle his thighs as one of his hands grips your waist and the other is tangled in your hair, holding you against him.

You can’t help but whimper as you grind down on his hard cock, the tight material of his jeans not making it easy for him and you could feel it all in the lace panties you wore that barely covered anything as is.

“the sounds coming out of you right now conejita are enough to make me cum at this point if you’re not careful, you’ve left me suffering too many times this week” Carlos groans into your ear before kissing down your neck.

“it hasn’t been any easier for me you know, i can’t do the same things you can when i’ve been in the shower” you tease back, grinding down harder onto him as he hisses.

“you’ve been greedy mi amor? touching yourself without me in the shower?” he growls, almost animalistic.

“don’t act like you haven’t done the same” you smirk back.

Carlos' hand that was tangled in your hair slowly trails down your figure, running lightly over your collarbones and nipples, before settling on your thigh.

He rubs his thumb on your inner thigh, slowly lifting the hem of your dress up your thighs until he can get a peak of your panties.

Seeing the barely-there black lace, he throws his head back and groans at the sight, feeling his dick twitch in his jeans.

“Were you trying to kill me today? what is this?” he asks as he brushes his thumb over your clit through the lace, making you whimper in response as he feels just how wet they are.

“Joder, eres tan guapa” he groans as he leans back a little to look, moving the lace to the side as he runs his thumb over the sensitive bud again.

“Carlos please, i-“

“i know pretty girl, i’ll give you what you need in a second, just let me admire” he drools, slipping his fingers through your folds at a teasing pace.

Without warning, he slips two fingers in to stretch you out for what's to come, making you almost scream in pleasure at the feeling.

“what a good girl, taking two so well for me, think you can ride my fingers pretty girl?” he whispers in your ear, biting and sucking at the skin of your neck, openly leaving marks his family will undoubtedly ask about later.

As you rock back and forth on his lap, his fingers curling inside you to hit the right spots as his thumb continues work on your clit, your nails are digging into his shoulders as you try to focus on keeping your pace.

With all the pent up tension from the past week, it doesn’t take long for you to feel your first orgasm approaching.

Carlos feels it too, knowing the all too familiar clench of your walls around his fingers, he’s desperate to bring you over the edge, using the hand on your hip to increase your pace as his fingers work you harder from the inside.

Your hand flies to the now fogged up window, leaving a hand mark on it as you scream his name and cum around his fingers, your hips stuttering in movement as you become overly sensitive.

He draws his fingers out once he knows you're done, looking you dead in the eye as he places them in his mouth and sucks them clean, making your pussy clench at the sight.

You decide to tease him back as he pulls them out, grabbing his hand and putting his fingers in your own mouth before sucking and twirling your tongue around them, making him growl.

He wastes no time in lifting you just enough to free himself from his jeans and boxers, before lining himself up with your entrance.

“do you think you have another one in you, mi tesoro?” he asks, slapping his tip against your clit and making you whimper as you nod, unable to speak actual words right now.

“good girl, that’s my pretty angel” he praises as he lowers you onto his cock, stretching you out even more at his size.

It didn’t matter how many times you’d done this, you’d never be used to his size.

It made sense that he was as big and thick as he was, the man himself being broad and muscular, but you could never truly expect JUST how big he was down there.

The first time you’d slept together, you’d been sure he was going to break you in half.

His hand had not been anywhere near enough over the last week, once he had had a taste of you he could never go back to anything or anyone else, the only way Carlos could describe how you felt around him is “made by god specifically for him” and he made sure it was known.

“fuck amorcita, you take me so well” he groans, his grip on your hip bruising as he settles you into a pace that drives you both absolutely wild.

“Carlos i’m not going to last” you moan, already starting to see the little white dots in your vision again.

“that’s okay princesa, either am i after the week without feeling you, but when we get back to madrid you better be prepared for an entire day of being used” he growls as he fucks up into you, making you yelp at the further sensation.

A few minutes later and you couldn’t hold on any longer, begging for him to let you finish.

“Carlos please, please, i can't hold on any longer can i please cum” you beg, tears lining your eyes as you crumble.

“let go amorcita, cum with me” he groans as he bruises your cervix from the final few thrusts he fucks up into you, feeling you squeezing his cock like a vice.

With his words, you’re screaming out his name over and over, leaving more handprints on the glass as his hand joins yours and squeezes, rain still falling around the car as it’s cloaked in complete darkness now the sun has fully set.

Carlos feels you let go and does the same, filling you completely to the point you can feel it coming out as he slowly thrusts a few more times, getting you both through your highs.

Finally lifting your head off his shoulder from where you rested while regaining your breath and balance, you give him a few light kisses before trying to slide off of his dick without making too much of a mess, unsuccessfully.

He quickly places your panties back into place over your pussy, making sure to give it a light tap for good measure as he chuckles.

All you can do is roll your eyes as you readjust your dress again, before climbing back over to your seat and getting comfortable for the long drive back.

“Well that will tide me over for about… 5 hours i think?” Carlos jokes as he starts the car up and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Try 7 days my love, we still have another week here” you remind him sweetly, a hint of teasing in your voice.

“Nope, i don’t care if my family hears anymore, i’m not going that long without you again” he states, kissing your hand before an evil smile places itself over his face.

“Besides, once Teto gets sight of the bruises i’ve left on your skin, there’s no way we’re hiding what happened today anyway.”

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karmaramen · 1 day

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the toshiro/laios fight tickles my brain. i relate to both of them and it makes me a lil sad seeing people hate toshiro with such vitriol.

like as an autistic poc one of the major ways i mask is emotional repression. and while im completely oblivious to some social cues, i'm keenly aware of others, to the point where i'll be bottling stuff up and stressed tf out by this weird balancing game!

i innately want to appease people, to the point of playing nice even when i'm uncomfortable. i genuinely want to get along with everyone, but sometimes that's impossible. my nature to try to help everyone can often contradict itself and twist into appearing two-faced or duplicitous.

toshiro doesn't hate laios, but they aren't as close as laios thought they were either. it's not clean cut one way or the other. they fight, they talk—and yeah—its on toshiro to speak up and not make assumptions. but they're able to come to a mutual understanding and i think that's really neat since i resonate with them and my own internal conflicts!

all this to say im gnawing on ryoko kui's writing. really cool stuff going on. the parallels foils and interactions between different characters are so tasty.

#sorry if this makes no sense #or is too rambly or celf centered #i just have lots of Thoughts #karma/rant #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #dunmeshi spoilers #laios touden #toshiro nakamoto

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ysrjune · 2 days

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omgomg what abt like reader and sam monroe are really good friends and he like has a thing for her in high dchool but she moves away n they run into eachother in the future AND HE LOOKS LIKE ANAKIN NOW.

(shut the fuck up this is so cute but like sad to me. im gonna sob 💔) also im literally listening to 'into you' by ariana grande, so that's why that's the title, ahaha 😈

Into You ✦

Sam had been a really good friend of yours since sophomore year. You didn't hang out with the same people at all, though. Sam hung out with a couple of druggies and ‘freaks’ while you were paired with ‘normal’ people.

You became friends with Sam because you had the same p.e class with him. He was often left alone and in the corner after walking 2 daily laps. Some guys even made fun of him, but Sam would always ignore them. Even your own girlfriends would make fun of him! You always felt bad for that poor boy.

So, one day you left your friends after walking 2 laps and went to the corner that Sam was always at. He didn't notice you at first, but once he did, he looked nervous. Why was a girl going up to him? The worse scenarios were going through his head. Maybe someone dared you to do that thing were you go up to a random kid and ask them out and if they say yes, you laugh and explain it was a dare.

When you finally stood in front of him, he glanced up anxiously and looked back down, waiting for you to just get it over with. “Hi, Sam.” You sweetly greeted with that charming smile of yours. He only nodded his head to your greet.

“Look, I know you're probably scared im gonna say or do something mean, but please trust me when I say I wanna be your friend.” and sat next to him. He was stunned at what you had said. You were so pretty and had a bunch of friends. Why do you wanna be his?

Sam messed with the stud inside his lip, making his labret move from the outside. “Just cause you feel bad doesn't mean you have to be my friend.” He softly spoke. Yeah, that was the big part of it, but you also believed everyone should have a friend.

It's not like Sam was completely friendless, but he was left out in a lot of his classes that his friends weren't in, and you wanted to change that. “Sam, I wanna be your friend because I think there's more to you than what people think.” He finally looked at you but still kept an emotionless expression. “Yeah, okay.”

And from then on, you bothered him every simple day during pe. You made him walk with you, run the miles with you, literally participate im everything in that class. He acted annoyed at first (which really, he loved the attention), but as time went by, he came around.

Sometimes, you'd ditch your friends to go inside the hallways or classrooms to spend lunch with Sam. You two became so close that he let you meet his mom, dad, step-dad, and little brothers.. and boy, did they love you.

The point has been made. You're close friends. Junior year was the year his biological dad died, but you helped him through it all. Especially with his drug problem. Since the last week of sophomore year, he's had a crush on you. At first, he tried to brush it off, telling himself that it's never gonna happen and to just keep you as a friend. You were the only one who genuinely cared anyway.

Sam had dated some girl named Alyssa for a while, which you hated. She was such a dirty hoe.. there were rumors that she kissed Sam's dad and that she told Josh to lie about never having sex with her, but come on, no one really believes that.

You tried to be happy for Sam, and you were for a little bit until Alyssa had a cow over you being too close with Sam. As a girl who's experienced the same, you understood and stopped talking to him for a while. Only giving him smiles and waves when you'd see him around.

What you didn't know is that when you stopped talking to him, he was really mad at Alyssa. “Alyssa, I love you, but you have to understand that she's the only one who really cared for me before you. I can't just stop talking to her like that. If I never met her, I'd probably would have already been dead because of how fucked up on drugs I was.” But she clearly didn't care.

She was so damn jealous that she wasn't the one who helped him through all that. Not only was she mad over that, but she was upset that you were prettier. Inside and out. She was so toxic with Sam, and everyone knew. His friends told him to just break up with her, but he didn’t want to. That poor boy was too scared.

At the end of 11th grade, he finally broke up with her, though, even though it was quick. All he said was that he was unhappy, and she used him for attention and that it was over. She didn't get a say in it because he walked away right after. And who did he immediately go to? You. He craved you so bad.

You had a boyfriend now, and he was so pissed. That should have been him. He was just too scared to say anything. Always seeing you hugging and kissing all over him was gut-wrenching. That whole breakup was right when the bell rang after school, so he planned to go to his house to freshen up and talk to you.

He knocked on the door around 6 in the afternoon just in case you were eating dinner at 4-5. Your mom opened the door, greeting him with a big hug since she hasnt seen him in so long. Let's just say things were awkward at first between you two at first, but after explaining everything, it was fine.

You gushed to him about Jesus, your boyfriend. Talking about how sweet and handsome he is.. Sam acted happy for your sake, but ooh, he was so jealous.

Stuff went back to normal, and you two became close again really quick. Sam met Jesus, and it went pretty well. Even if Sam was jealous/mad, he saw that Jesus really liked you and seemed like a good guy. What relieved him even more was that Jesus didn't mind your friendship.

“Oh, yeah. I had a homie who was on drugs and stuff. He didn't have anyone to help him out like that, so it's chill that you helped him out like that. I'd never get mad over him wanting to hang out, you know?” Your boyfriend explained one time when he was over.

You lasted with Jesus for a couple of months until the last few weeks of school because you were going to an out of state college. Sam didn't know that was the reason, though. He just saw it as a chance to finally confess. You two were sitting in an empty classroom together at lunch.

“Sam, we need to talk.” You speak softly. “We are talking.” He replies, eating a chip. “No, like. I have something serious to tell you.” His heart dropped. Were you gonna drop him? Did he do something wrong?

“What is it..” You friend replies with an anxious look plastered on his face. “I'm moving after graduation. Like, to an out of state college.” One part of Sam was happy, and the other was devastated. He finally got you back, and now you're leaving?

“Oh, um,” He looked to the floor. “That's great. Uh—not in the sense that, like, I want you to leave, but, you know. It's great that you have this opportunity.” He tried his best not to cry but failed. You two spent the whole time crying to each other, saying how much you'll miss each other.

But you'll keep in touch.. right?

—

You and Sam were bawling by the end of it. He was probably even sadder because it's not like he can tell you he likes.. no. Loves you, because what's the point?

He went along with you to the air port, saying goodbye. Hugging you hard and placing a kiss on your head. “Have a good time, okay? Have fun.” Sam says, eyes all red and droopy.

You nod, kissing his cheek and leaving a faint mark. Before he knew it, you were on that plane and gone. You swore that you were gonna call and visit for the holidays, but guess what! You didn't.

Spring break? No. Thanksgiving? Christmas? His birthday? Nope. He tried calling one time, but the number was out of service. That was the last straw. He was so mad at you.

He got over it after a year or so, too. He pushed himself to be more social and actually go out. His appearance changed, too. No more eyeliner or dressing in dark clothing. He even dyed his hair brown.

—

He kinda forgot about you since even after your four years at college were up, you stayed. You forgot about him too. Your new friends kept you busy all the time, along with your job.

Your look didn't change as drastically as Sam's. Your style of clothing changed a little, and so did your attitude. Back then, you were such a goody two shoes. Now, you go out amd party and break the rules more often. Nothing totally illegal, but you get it.

You still talked to your parents every night. They asked so many times to come visit you because they're getting old (a little dramatic, but it was still true) so you finally said yes after 6 years of not seeing them.

Your cousin had picked you up from the airport, thrilled to see you. She was chatting it up and telling you about everything that has been going on since you left. Then it hit you. Sam Monroe, that emo boy you loved so much probably still lived here. Your cousin knew him back then, too, so maybe she knows what hes been up to.

“Oh, girl. He's like, a totally different person. Dyed his hair, became more talkative.. like, literally. A bunch of girls from high school like him cause they realized how handsome he is, I guess.” She keeps babbling on about him to you. He changed a lot, it seems. But there was no way you were gonna try and go look for him. You knew he was more than likely mad at you for not calling and visiting.

Your parents had invited a bunch of people over for a welcome home party. They were all in the backyard, though. So, you had time to get ready. Sam was left in your mind while you showered and got ready. How different could he really look?

After you get ready, you make your way to the backyard, greeting aunts and uncles, cousins, and family friends, but most importantly, your parents. You were smothered by your mom's kisses and practically crushed by your dads hugs. They missed their little girl.

You drank with your cousins and played party games while the older adults watched and laughed at you, losing almost every round, causing you to face the penalty and take a shot.

By the end of the night, you were so drunk. No memory of what happened that night when you woke up in the morning. Confused in your old room, you groan and whine. A headache was bothering you, and you felt super weak, but you remembered that your dad wanted you to go to the hardware store with him to pick up a few tools.

You knew he would offer to just let you stay and rest, but you haven't seen him in so long and wanted to spend as much time with him as you could. With another groan, you force yourself to get up and shower. You didn't even bother to put on makeup or do your hair.. not even to wear a cute outfit.

Sweats with a baggy t-shirt and a pair of slippers was your choice. Your mom gave you something quick to eat before leaving with dad. The store was close by, so the ride there wasn't too long. Dad asked about everything you did over where you live.

Ex boyfriends, the classes you took, and a lot of other things were talked about, even when you got off the car and entered the store. You talked his ear off while he was looking through the aisles. One thing about dad was that he's never at the hardware store just for what he actually needs.

Normally, he'd tell you to shut up with all your talking because, well.. you're a chatterbox. but this was an exception since he hasn't seen you for a long time. Half an hour passed by before he asked you to go get something for him in aisle 12.

You looked and looked around that aisle for what seemed like forever trying to find a specific tool dad asked for. A groan escapes your throat, and before you know it, you are asked a question by a worker.

“Need any help, ma’am?” His voice was soft and calm. You turned around to see a very tall, muscular man with tanned skin, brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. He was very handsome. So handsome that he left you speechless, and it was sort of weirding him out.

“Ma’am.” He repeated himself, looking slightly uncomfortable. You knock out of your trance and visibly cringed at yourself. “Sorry, um. Yes, I need help.” You respond with a nervous tone. “Yeah? Okay, what do we need?”

“A shovel.” You reply, trying to avoid eye contact. The man laughed a little, shaking his head. “Well, this definitely isn't the aisle where you'll be finding those.” Great, now you look stupid. Did dad send you to the wrong one on accident? Who knows. You just felt really stupid.

“Come on, n/n, I'll show you.” He says and starts walking away. It took you a couple of seconds to realize that he had just called you your nickname. What the fuck? How does he know that? Wait.

No, there's no way. This guy looks nothing like the one you had in mind. “Here ya are.” He interrupts your thoughts. “Oh, thank you,” You squint to look at his name tag. It was him. “Sam.”

“Did it really take you that long to realize?” He snickered and set his hands on his hips. “But I guess I can't blame you, though, huh? I look nothing like I did when you left.” Of course, he had to add that last part. Now you were sure he was pissed about what happened.

“Yeah..” was all you replied while literally checking him out. he didn't mind it. He knew he was handsome. His confidence grew a lot while you were away. “So, anyway. I'd recommend this one.” He quickly changed the topic.

—

He talked to you for a little while in that same spot. About why you left and why you didn't call back—but he was so mature about it. He wasn't angry or sad.. he was just asking like if it was normal. He even walked you back to where your dad was at, and said hi.

It made you smile to hear him ask for your new number. “Just so you know, I'm taking you out tonight, and you can't say no. Pick you up at 8.” He smiles at you. You shake your head and smile again. “Okay, see you then.”

—

errrm part 2 when 🤔

tags, @heartsforanakin @sockiess @radiantvader @anakinstwinklebunny @lunalitva @lvrfay3 🎀

#hayden christensen #sam monroe #life as a house #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe smut #i love sam monroe #sam monroe fanfiction #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen star wars #anakin skywalker smut #rots anakin #anakin skywalker x you #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker

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nana-au · 1 day

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Best Friends Forever!

Suguru Geto ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: You’re Suguru’s bff and roommate. You know him like the back of your hand – and he knows you the same, if not better! Some people may think you two are too close, but they just don’t understand. When you have a date planned and need help picking out your outfit, Suguru’s your guy! ...What’s this? He doesn’t want you to leave?

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: minor mention of blood, mention of pet death, possessiveness, jealousy, nipple play, thigh riding, fingering, making you beg, overstimulation, unprotected sex

₊˚ପ⊹ an: kicking and screaming and crying and throwing up and scratching my face I NEED HIM.

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 2.8k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

BFF! Sugu who’s been by your side since before you can even remember! You grew up neighbors and when you both went off to college you got an apartment off campus together. It was only natural to be with Suguru. He was the only constant in your life – your anchor.

BFF! Sugu who is so protective of you. How could he not? You two experienced life’s firsts together. You were there when Suguru took a nasty spill off his bike. His tears were hot down his face as you stayed by his side. You used the water bottle you kept on your own bike to flush the blood off his knee, giving it a quick peck. “My mom always says a kiss makes everything better. Do you feel better Sugu?” He nods his head, wiping the snot off of his face with his t-shirt. He was there when you lost your first pet and even though you were preteens and everyone made you feel dumb being sad over a goldfish - Geto made it a point to hold a funeral in his backyard. He dug a small grave for it - picking out the perfect rock for you to write its name on to place on top of its resting place.

BFF! Sugu who makes sure you’re safe. He would never allow you to pump your own gas. He’s seen the type of guys who prowl around the gas station close to your home. He’ll make sure you get to sit pretty in the passenger seat while he fills up your car. Don’t worry about the price – he’ll take care of it. He always takes care of you.

BFF! Sugu who knows everything about you. He knows all your favorites. Favorite color, favorite season, favorite food, favorite tv show… there was nothing that you liked that he was not aware of. He knows about things you wouldn’t be caught dead telling anyone else – trusting only your best friend.

BFF! Sugu who is so so sooooo protective of you. Any guy he thought wasn’t the absolute best for you was quickly kicked to the curb. He’ll admit – sometimes the criteria was a little strict. The guy from your art class? His haircut was stupid. Shithead from your after school club? Believe him – he was a tool. Worst of all was the douche on your school’s baseball team. Suguru had quite the time getting you to see his point of view, but he didn’t dare say I told you so as you cried in his arms retelling the embarrassment of catching him cheating.

BFF! Sugu who learns to relax in college. You were a woman now – you no longer needed his constant guidance. He would genuinely smile as you talked about all the friends you were making in your major. How funny your coworkers at the concession stand job you worked every football game were. The fact you had a date with a friend of a friend – your girl friend had vouched for him. He was a good guy. Geto was glad you had people looking out for you. He couldn’t wait to meet him.

BFF! Sugu who helps you pick out the cute little outfits for your dates. You were so beautiful, that guy was truly lucky. But even his luck couldn’t match Suguru’s as you put on a little show for him – trying on every tantalizing option.

BFF! Sugu who loved watching you dress up so much he bought you more. You didn’t even need a date to have a fashion show! He just loved seeing that color on you. Oh! – And don’t even get him started on the skimpy little dresses with the ruffles. They were made for you. He couldn’t decide whether your plump butt or your squishy boobs looked better hugged by the fabric. He had to use his large hand to hide the bite he gave to his bottom lip when your cute little panties peaked through the bottom of a particularly short one. “Maybe that one is good for around the house,” he proposed.

BFF! Sugu who had to swallow his need when you begged him to rate your lingerie. “I didn’t realize you two were at that point in your relationship,” he would try to laugh off his distaste.

“I’ve told him no to sex for so long, I’ve been thinking maybe it's time…” you trailed off. You played with the hem of your dress as you stood in front of Suguru on the couch. He was sunk comfortably into the loveseat, legs spread wide and one of his muscled arms stretching across the back of the couch. The other on the arm rest. “Ok princess. Let’s see the options,” he spoke.

BFF! Sugu who couldn’t make it through the first set. The white lace left little to the imagination, a black bow adorned above your cute mound. “You trying to make me sweat?” A dark chuckle broke through his lips. “Sorry?” you asked him, not hearing him correctly. How silly you were to think that just because he was a friend that made him any less of a man. A hot blooded man at that – with eyes that glued to your nipples visible through the thin fabric. “The dresses were one thing, princess, but this? Don’t play dumb,” his dark eyes were now impossibly black. You were staring into the voids that indiscreetly roamed your body. It was entirely silly of you to now try and hide yourself from his hungry gaze.

BFF! Sugu who doesn’t let you leave. You were no match against his strong grip as he pulled you onto his lap. “You’re leavin’ me no choice,” he assured you, pushing you down hard against his thigh. You tried to push away but his hands on your waist locked you in. “No choice,” he reminded you. You swallowed thickly, realizing you were completely helpless as he began guiding your hips up and down his thigh. The rough material of your panties rubbing deliciously against your clit. “Sugu s-stop,” you begged him, all breathy and hot against his ear. “You want me to stop?” Of course! He was your best friend. You didn’t want him making you feel better than you ever thought possible by just rubbing your pussy against his leg. “But you look so cute like this,” he pouted at you, “Humping my thigh like a puppy. I’ll let go – but you better stop moving your hips,” he tutted at you. You didn’t have it in you to keep your eyes open to watch yourself continuously rut against him even after he removed his hands. It wasn’t your fault his muscled thigh felt more pleasurable than any toy you could ever buy.

Geto had plenty of girls at your school talking about their experiences with him. You spent your entire teen years hearing about his ‘magical tongue’ and ‘horse dick’. For the majority of your life you had little interest in getting to experience that part of your best friend – that was until the bastard from the baseball team. The absolute snore fest he put on for your first time was jarring. Maybe you were so used to hearing how life-changing Suguru’s hips were that you had high expectations...

No – you were not purposefully trying to get Geto to want you. He genuinely gave good advice when it came to what looked good on you. Ok so maybe you were pushing your luck with the lingerie – but Suguru was always so level-headed. It was scary how quickly he caved.

It was even more frightening listening to his taunts hot in your ear, “Why aren’t you stopping?” You couldn’t stop now – but you would. Just a little longer. You’d find the strength to stop soon. “Tell me you want me, or I’m stopping this,” he threatened and your form shook. “Please don’t,” you begged him. “Don’t what?” he lifted your chin, making you look at him “Don’t s-stop t-this,” you squeaked out.

BFF! Sugu whose rumors were true. His tongue was magical. His hands flew down to your hips, helping you roll deliciously against the fabric of his sweats while his wet muscle was hot against your nipples. He used his teeth to pull down the fabric so he could taste your bare bud against his tongue. He suckled and licked your sensitive nipple causing your arousal to seep past the lace of your panties. You began to soak his sweatpants but he wasn’t gonna have you stopping anytime soon. He pulled your hips into tight circles against him, overwhelming your nub. His teeth nibbled at your nipple and you jerked up at the sudden shock. His grip was bruising and you wanted – no needed more. “Sugu.. more.. need more” you sounded so pathetic.

BFF! Sugu who was left with little choice! His princess wanted more and more she was going to get. His head kissed your entrance, barely pushing in past the tip. You mewled, nails digging into his shoulders as he teased himself into you. “You think you can take me?” he asked you and you nodded fervently. He was thick and long – even his tip felt like he was tearing you in two. You wanted to be absolutely broken. “M-more Sugu,” you begged, trying to move your hips to sink down further. He kept you still – only allowing you to move if it was him dragging you down against him. Your slick was dripping down the rest of his cock, you were completely overwhelmed by the little attention he was giving you. One of his hands moved from your hips down to your clit, rubbing slow circles – barely ghosting above it. You were clenching on his fat tip and whining embarrassingly loud. He wanted to have you crying for his cock. He clicked his tongue at you, “I’m not convinced enough you want my cock.” He looked so unaffected as you shook, “I do! I need it, Sugu,” tears fell down your cheeks as you desperately tried to convince him.

BFF! Sugu whose hips slapped against yours at a brutal pace. He had you pinned into the loveseat, head down and ass up. A creamy ring formed at the base of his unrelenting cock. Drool was seeping from your mouth and onto the couch, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pounding into that gummy spot that made you dizzy. “No one could make you feel this way,” he promised you, “this pussy was made for me.” His pace was bruising, his balls slapping against your clit. He pulled your hips up farther, making you arch your back. Everything was so noisy – the sound of you meeting his hips, the squelch of his cock pulling in and out, and his grunts each time he felt his tip kiss your cervix. Geto looooved watching you take him so well. Each time his cock disappeared inside of you, only to reappear as he roughly dragged out of you. He didn’t know if you were purposefully squeezing him each time his hips pulled back. Were you trying to keep him buried deep? “Your date won't mind if I leave my cum in you, right?” he teased you – knowing full well you wouldn’t be going anywhere after he was done with you. “Dripping out of your pussy at dinner,” you couldn’t fathom him being able to laugh right now. “What would you even tell him?” he was imagining the scene playing out in his mind, “My roommate thought I was looking a little empty. Needed to stuff me full,” His smile lazy thinking about how he was claiming you tonight. He was fucking your tight little hole deliciously, making sure you could never be satisfied by anything other than his cock. You pushed your hips into his, making sure he reached as deep as possible. “You want to cum, princess?” he picked up his pace – which you didn’t even think was possible – your tits bouncing at each thrust of his hips. You nodded, pleading for him to make you cum. “God – cum on my cock. Want t’feel you squeezin me,” the rough pad of his finger met your clit, helping your pleasure meet its peak. “I’m cumming, Sugu,” you cried out to your best friend.

BFF! Sugu who wasn’t done with you once you came. You tried to claw at his hands on your hips, begging him to slow down. The tension in your tummy snapped, cumming undone loudly around him. He paid no mind to your pleas, “You can take more. You’re a good girl, I know you can.” He didn’t ever want to leave your snug pussy. He would fuck you all day if that’s what it took for him to feel satisfied. “Give me another, baby. Cum on my cock one more time. I know you can,” he was so filthy. You never had a guy dirty talk to you the way Geto was. He was demanding and unrelenting. It was alarming how much you enjoyed the filth leaving his lips. “How could you tell me to stop when she’s gripping me so tight – pussy doesn’t want to let go of me.” he threw his head back, “”S your fault I’m pounding you like this. I couldn't let you get away with showing me that little number.” The lingerie he was referring to was on the floor below you two, ripped into pieces from when he tore it off your body. He completely pulled out of you – leaving your pussy uncomfortably empty before flipping you over and folding you in half. He placed the back of your knees on his shoulder, wasting no time pushing himself back into you. The new angle took your breath away. His heavy frame held you down as his cock was unrelenting. When you looked down you could see his length slide in and out of you, your cute little pussy lips swallowing him whole. Your arousal coated his cock – all thick and creamy. You felt like you could pass out from the sight – not thinking it was possible to be so wet. His thumb reached down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on it. “C’mon baby. I’m addicted to the way you squeeze my cock. Let me feel you cum again. Need it, princess,” he begged. He was slowly losing all control. You were so perfect underneath him, taking him like the good girl he always knew you were. You were wrecking him. Your sounds were so cute – choking back sobs as he fucked you to another peak. You were begging for him to cum inside you. You wanted to feel him coat your walls in his sticky juice. “Gonna pump you full,” he promised you. “Gonna feel so good stuffed full with my cum.”

BFF! Sugu who can’t stand watching his semen leak out of you. You were completely fucked out – chest heaving as you laid on the couch. Geto was still holding your legs up, trying fruitlessly to push his juices back inside of you.

BFF! Sugu who needs to make sure you keep all of it. He didn’t even wait for you to regain your energy before his thick fingers are deep inside of you. “Can’t let a single drop go to waste,” he tells you. He curls his thick digits, pushing against the squishy spot that makes you see stars. “No more,” you breathlessly say. “Just one more. Need to make sure it all keeps,” you are completely overstimulated. The feelings of his fingers are heightened by your two orgasms – which only makes you come undone even faster. His fingers are lightening fast and your pussy sounds like it's made of water. It’s so loud and wet and you just can’t help yourself from cumming again. You’re thrashing against his unrelenting fingers, crying loud enough that your neighbors definitely hear. “That’s it. S’good for me,” he’s emotional watching you come undone so many times by his doing. You were his. His, his, his.

BFF! Sugu who doesn’t even have to tell you to cancel your date. You couldn’t pick your head up after he was done with you. You were staying home with him – where you belonged.

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call-me-strega · 21 hours

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Dc x Dp Prompt #20: Wishes of a Secret Romantic

Jason doesn’t really advertise it but he’s a romantic at heart. He craves having his own cliche romance with someone who will actually care about him. Sometimes he indulges in his fantasies by reading romance novels or setting up at-home dinner dates that he takes himself on. He often finds himself sighing and wishing he had someone to relate to, that would give him unconditional care and enjoy going on romantic dates with him.

~~~

Desiree doesn’t quite know how she ended up supervising this beautiful mess but she’s not complaining. If anything she has some sweet gossip to share at girls night and a story for Ghost Writer to obsess over.

~~~ It starts like this:

Ever since Frostbite had taken to teaching the young ghost boy lessons on the Realms Culture and Ghost Biology he’d made great strides in his diplomatic and medical skills. His fighting skills were already impressive but were refined under the tutelage of the warriors of Far Frozen. Personally, she thinks he is grooming the Boy to join the Council of Ancients which have taken a more active role in governance now that Pariah has been defeated for a second time.

The boy has been going around and creating treaties with his enemies in which he finds them another outlet for their obsessions. He has already worked out deals with the likes of Technus, Amorpho, and oddly enough a joint deal between Penelope Spectra and Walker.

Technus was allowed to indulge in his technological creation so long as he was supervised by the Pharoah boy or doing on of the preapproved tasks of mischief, such as causing mild inconvenience to the bastards in white.

He had set up Amorpho with a “Cosplay TikTok” on which he was able to show off his different forms and get recognition for them. He’d amassed a large following thespians and costume artists who greatly admired him.

Due to his position on the Council, the Boy managed to get Spectra and Walker to agree to take part in the new justice system the Council had been setting up. Walker could run his prison so long as he abided by the rules and scentence lengths set by the Council. And Spectra was free to torment those whom the council deemed the worthy of the worst punishments. Many ghosts had grievances against living and non-living menaces, last she heard, there was a whole list for Spectra to go down. Currently, she was in another universe tormenting a man named Eobard Thawne, who went by a ridiculous name called the Reverse Flash. Once she had her fill of torment, they would be taken to Walker’s prison.

The Ghostling continued to do this with many of his former adversaries until he came knocking at the door to her lair. She was well aware of what the GhostBoy would want, and was curious as to what he could offer her.

She granted him the grace of her presence and was charmed by his earnest nature. He genuinely wanted to know her story and obsessions so that he could find the best way to help her. She revealed to him it was not Desire as many people assumed but Fulfillment. She wanted to people to attain their desires in place of how she had been unable too. But there are consequences to wish granting so there’s only so much the Boy could do.

The ghostling had been unbelievable smug win he wished that her wishes wouldn’t have catastrophically negative outcomes. When she granted and skeptically tested this wish she found it had worked. The boy grew even more smug.

Of course balance had to be maintained so her power became not weaker per say, just more indirect. During their trial run, Desiree was granting me the wish young boy had wished for a large cookie. Instead of instantly summoning a 50 foot tall cookie as she would have previously done, she simply caused his mother to have the desire to bake cookies and then had two of them fuse together in the oven creating one larger cookie.

A bit more round about than she prefers but it got the job done.

The two brokered a deal that would allow Desiree to travel into the mortal realm and grant the wishes she desired to, so long as the would cause catastrophically negative outcomes in the future. Young Phantom had even gone as far as to direct her to the so-called Make-A-Wish foundation in which she could find many deserving children to fulfill the wishes of.

~~~

One night Desiree had been flying through the mortal realm to visit a friend, a city spirit she hadn’t seen in ages. As she flew over the city a strong sense of longing and desire resonated with her core. Where there was desire there was someone with a wish. Invisible, she flew down to the source of these feelings to investigate.

She ended up out side the window of a building that held longer traces of death and her friends magic. She peered through to see a young man putting the finishing touches on a lavish dinner. She observed as he created a beautiful meal with an air of melancholy before pouring himself a glass of wine and turning on his television to watch mediocre romantic comedies. Intrigued by this young man, Desiree decided to lurk and observe for a while, perhaps he would soon reveal the wish his heart yearned for?

Jason sighed into his Osso Bucco as another romantic comedy began to play. Man he really was bumming himself out wasn’t he. He shook his head and took a sip of his wine. He winced slightly as some cringey kids’ movie called How to Build A Better Boy appeared on screen. How had that even gotten in his queue? However, his laziness won out and he made no move to change it resigning himself to a hour and a half or so of second-hand embarrassment and semi-decent acting.

As he watched the best friend girl make a virtual boyfriend based on her friend, the main girl’s, preferences and huffed to himself. Oh if only things could be that easy. He hummed to himself adding on his own thoughts to the teen girl’s rambling list.

“ If only, sister. I’d wish for a sensitive and sweet guy too. Someone who wouldn’t mind death jokes, or my odd hours. Someone to I could just relax and nerd out with. Someone who’d go on romantic dates with me so I wouldn’t have to sit here eating this nice dinner on my own. Yeah, I’d wish for my perfect guy too.”

Suddenly, a chill washed over Jason and his hair stood on edge. He whipped his head around in search for an intruder only to see nothing there. He scanned the apartment suspiciously before his eyes landed on an open window. He sighed, reassured it was just a draft and turned back to the movie.

Desiree was touched by the earnest desires of the young man who was touched by both death and her friend’s magic. It almost reminded her of her own desires for romance while she was still living. Perhaps she would stick around to see how this wish played out for the young man~?

Miles away, something sparked in Danny Fenton, helping him make his final decision on which of the colleges that accepted him he should attend.

#long post #dc x dp #dead on main #jason todd #danny phantom #danny fenton #desiree #jason todd is a romantic #romantic jason todd #jason todd deserves to be happy #accidental matchmaking #desiree and lady gotham are friends #desiree grants jason’s wish #desiree doesn’t know it yet but she’s low key gonna become jason’s personal fairy godmother #desiree is fond of jason #aha aha what if I made lady gotham and desiree jason’s moms #jk jk... unless?#Strega’s dc x dp prompt

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hd-junglebook · 2 days

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Little Dove

Quinn Hughes x Reader

masterlist link

a:n This is part 1 and officially my first ever Quinn Hughes fic, this series will be pretty long since I want to get into the details and emotions. There will be no skimping on details. Not round here partner.

also he looks so good in this gif good god!

summary: Sometimes Y/N's effort just isn't enough; every attempt seems to be futile and disregarded. The people she calls mom and dad do nothing but disappoint her, brushing her off as an ungrateful child. It seems the only person who can truly see her is Quinn.

Word Count - 4140

...

The sun had barely begun to peek through the towering skyscrapers of the bustling city as Y/N stepped out of her sleek, black car. Her red bottom heels clicked against the pavement with each confident stride, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air. She adjusted her perfectly tailored skirt, smoothing out any wrinkles that may have formed during her commute.

As she approached the imposing glass doors of her parents' company headquarters, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease.

Despite the success and prestige that came with working for her family's business, Y/N knew deep down that this wasn't her true calling. Nevertheless, she put on a brave face and pushed through the doors, ready to tackle another day.

The security guard, a friendly older gentleman named Frank, greeted her with a warm smile. "Good morning, Miss Y/N," he said, tipping his hat in her direction.

Y/N returned the smile, her red lipstick a striking contrast against her porcelain skin. "Good morning, Frank. I hope you had a lovely weekend," she replied, her voice smooth and polished, befitting her corporate persona.

As she made her way through the spacious lobby, her heels clicked against the polished marble floor, announcing her presence to the few early risers already at their desks. She entered the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, where her office was located.

Stepping out into the hallway, Y/N was greeted by the sight of her office, its glass walls doing little to provide privacy. The modern, minimalist design was a reflection of her parents' tastes rather than her own. She sighed.

With a deep breath, Y/N pushed open the glass door and entered her office, ready to start another day in a job that left her feeling unfulfilled, yearning for something more.

Y/N settled into her plush, ergonomic chair, the leather cool against her skin. She reached forward and pressed the power button on her sleek, silver computer, watching as the screen flickered to life. The familiar logo of her parents' company appeared, a constant reminder of her obligations and the path she felt pressured to follow.

The computer hummed quietly, Y/N began to sort through the stack of paperwork on her desk. She picked up a folder, her perfectly manicured nails a stark contrast against the crisp, white paper. Just as she was about to open the file, a buzzing sound emanated from her designer purse.

Curiosity piqued, Y/N reached into her bag and retrieved her phone. The screen displayed a new text message, and her heart skipped a beat as she read the name: Quinn. she opened the message.

"Hey princess," the text read, the words both endearing and frustrating.

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair as she contemplated her response. Quinn had a way of blurring the lines between playful banter and genuine affection, leaving her constantly questioning the nature of their relationship. His messages were often short and casual, but the term of endearment he used never failed to send a flutter through her chest.

Despite his repeated claims that he wasn't looking for anything serious, Quinn seemed to take pleasure in pushing the boundaries, leaving Y/N in a state of confusion and longing.

She knew she shouldn't let herself get too attached, but there was something about him that drew her in, making it difficult to maintain the emotional distance she knew was necessary.

With another sigh, Y/N set her phone back down on the desk, trying to focus on the task at hand. She knew she needed to establish clearer boundaries with Quinn, but the thought of pushing him away completely left an ache in her heart.

Y/n shook her head, attempting to clear her mind and concentrate on the paperwork before her, even as thoughts of Quinn lingered in the back of her mind.

…

Y/N's attention was drawn away from her mother's presentation as her phone buzzed once more. She discreetly glanced at the screen under the table, her heart racing as she saw Quinn's name appear again. Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and guilt as she read his messages.

"I miss you," the first text read, causing a warmth to spread through her chest. Before she could fully process the implications of his words, another message followed: "Are we still good for tmrw?"

Y/N's mind raced as she contemplated her response. She had agreed to go out with Quinn for dinner tomorrow, a decision she had made in a moment of weakness, longing for the thrill of his company.

Now, sitting in the business room with her parents, the reality of her situation came crashing down upon her.

She glanced up, her eyes meeting her father's stern gaze from across the table. He sat in his imposing grey chair, his posture straight and attentive as he listened to Dedra's presentation.

Y/N knew that her parents had high expectations for her, and the thought of disappointing them weighed heavily on her conscience.

As Dedra continued to explain the new company policy, Y/N found it increasingly difficult to focus. Her mind wandered to thoughts of Quinn, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and the effortless charm he exuded. She yearned to respond to his messages, to confirm their plans and lose herself in the excitement of their secret rendezvous.

Y/N's heart raced as she quickly typed out her response to Quinn, her fingers flying across the screen. She glanced up every few seconds, ensuring that her parents were still engaged in the presentation. With a final look of determination, she pressed send, a small thrill running through her body.

Almost instantly, her phone buzzed with Quinn's reply. "Wear that red dress I bought you."

Y/N's eyebrows raised in surprise, a smirk playing on her lips as she typed back, "The v neck dress?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I will ;), I have to go back to work, I'll text you later." Y/N sent the message, a giddy feeling bubbling up inside her chest. However, her momentary happiness was short-lived as she felt a sharp kick under the table. Her eyes snapped up to meet her father's disapproving gaze, his brow furrowed in irritation.

the meeting concluded around her, Y/N's coworkers filed out of the room, muttering their polite goodbyes. Soon, only Y/N and her parents remained, the tension in the air palpable. Her mother fixed her with a stern look, her voice laced with disappointment.

"Y/N, you're not taking this as seriously as you need to be. This will be you one day." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Who were you talking to?"

Y/N's heart sank, knowing that lying to her parents would only make matters worse. She opened her mouth to respond, but her father cut her off.

"Was it that hockey guy?" He scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "He sucks, he'll never be good enough. I should've paid him off four months ago if I knew he'd be such a distraction."

Y/N's cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and anger. She hated the way her parents spoke about Quinn, as if he were nothing more than a nuisance to be dealt with. She knew they would never approve of their relationship but hearing them talk about him so callously only strengthened her resolve.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N met her parents' gazes, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "Quinn, and he's not a distraction.” Her mother's lips pressed into a thin line, disapproval etched into every line of her face.

Y/N's parents exchanged a knowing glance, their eyes filled with a mixture of disappointment and condescension. Her mother, Dedra, was a striking woman in her mid-50s, with perfectly coiffed blonde hair and a designer suit that hugged her slender frame.

Her father, Derek, was a tall, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair and a perpetual scowl that seemed etched into his chiseled features.

Dedra leaned forward, her elbows resting on the polished mahogany table. "Y/N, darling," she began, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "you know we only want what's best for you. This... Quinn," she said his name as if it left a bitter taste in her mouth, "he's not good for you. He's a distraction, a phase. You'll see that soon enough."

Y/N felt her stomach twist, the all-too-familiar sensation of her parents' manipulation taking hold. She opened her mouth to protest, but Derek cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Enough, Y/N," he growled, his deep voice reverberating through the empty conference room. "You're not a child anymore. It's time you started acting like the adult you claim to be. This company, this life we've built for you - it's all we've ever wanted for you. And you're throwing it away for some lowlife hockey player who barely even made it to the big leagues."

Y/N's cheeks burned with anger and humiliation. She hated the way her parents made her feel, as if her thoughts and feelings were invalid, as if she were nothing more than a pawn in their grand scheme.

Dedra reached across the table, her perfectly manicured hand grasping Y/N's wrist. "Sweetheart," she said, her tone softening, "we love you. We just don't want to see you get hurt. Men like Quinn... they're not in it for the long haul. They'll use you, break your heart, and move on to the next pretty face. You deserve so much more than that."

Y/N felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let her parents see her weakness. She knew they were wrong about Quinn, but their words still cut deep, playing on her insecurities and fears.

Derek stood up, his tall frame looming over her. "This discussion is over, Y/N. You'll end things with this Quinn character, and you'll focus on your work. Your future. Do I make myself clear?"

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. She wanted to scream, to tell her parents that they had no right to control her life, but she knew it would be futile. With a curt nod, she pushed back from the table and stood up, her legs shaking beneath her.

"I have work to do," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you'll excuse me."

Without waiting for a response, Y/N turned on her heel and strode out of the conference room, her heart hammering in her chest.

…

The clock on the wall seemed to move at an agonizingly slow pace, each tick echoing through the cramped office space. Y/N leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking beneath her weight as she stared blankly at the computer screen.

The fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow on her features, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes and the tension in her jaw.

Around her, the office hummed with activity, the sound of ringing phones and the gentle whir of computers filling the air. Y/N felt suffocated by the monotony of it all, the endless hours spent hunched over her desk, pouring over spreadsheets and reports.

As the clock finally struck three, Y/N let out a sigh of relief, the thought of going home filling her with a sense of euphoria. She could almost feel the soft embrace of her couch, the warmth of a glass of wine in her hand as she left the stresses of the day behind.

Just as she was about to log off her computer, a sharp knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. Alexandra, the secretary, peeked her head in, her perfectly styled hair and immaculate makeup a stark contrast to Y/N's tired appearance.

"I sent some of the paperwork to your email," Alexandra said, her voice saccharine sweet. "If you could just finish those up before you leave, that'd help a lot."

Y/N felt a surge of anger course through her veins, her patience wearing thin. She fixed Alexandra with a cold stare, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's three. I get to go home now, you know, like a normal person."

Alexandra's eyes narrowed, her lips pursing in disapproval. Y/N knew that the secretary had always treated her like nothing more than a privileged nepo baby, completely disregarding the fact that Y/N had never used her family's influence to step on any toes or make people do her bidding.

Y/N stood up from her chair, grabbing her purse and jacket from the back of her seat. She could feel Alexandra's eyes boring into her back as she made her way towards the door, but she refused to give the woman the satisfaction of seeing her frustration.

"I'll take care of it in the morning," Y/N said, her hand on the doorknob. "Have a good night, Alexandra."

Without waiting for a response, Y/N stepped out of her office, the sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor as she made her way towards the elevators.

She could feel the weight of the day lifting from her shoulders with each step, the promise of freedom and the warmth of her bath calling to her like a siren song.

As the elevator doors closed behind her, Y/N let out a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned back against the cool metal wall. She knew that the road ahead would be filled with obstacles, but for now, all she wanted was to lose herself in the comfort of Quinn's arms and forget about the expectations and pressures that threatened to suffocate her.

…

The faucet let out a high-pitched squeak as Y/N twisted the gleaming chrome knob, the sound echoing off the tiled walls of the dimly lit bathroom. The flow of water slowed to a trickle before stopping completely, leaving behind a tub filled with steaming, inviting water.

Tendrils of steam rose from the water, carrying with them the intoxicating aroma.

With a fluid motion, Y/N untied the sash of her plush, white bathrobe, the soft fabric slipping off her shoulders and pooling at her feet. The cool air kissed her bare skin, sending a slight shiver down her spine as she stepped closer to the tub.

Tentatively, she dipped a toe into the water, testing the temperature. The heat was intense, but not unbearable, and Y/N slowly lowered herself into the bath, letting out a contented sigh as the warm water enveloped her body.

The water lapped at her shoulders, the heat penetrating her tired muscles and easing away the knots and tension that had accumulated throughout the day.

Y/N sank deeper into the rose petal-filled bathwater, the sweet, floral aroma wafting through the steamy air. The soft, delicate petals brushed against her skin, their velvety touch a gentle caress. She inhaled deeply, the scent of roses mingling with the subtle vanilla notes of her favorite candle, creating a soothing, intimate atmosphere.

As she leaned back, her hair cascaded over the edge of the tub, the ends dipping into the water and creating gentle ripples on the surface. Her eyes fluttered closed, lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks, a result of the bath's intense heat.

The tranquil moment was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone, its vibration echoing through the bathroom. Y/N's eyes snapped open, a curious expression on her face as she reached for the device.

Quinn's name flashed across the screen, his photo – a candid shot of him grinning widely, his dark hair tousled by the wind – accompanying the incoming call.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/N's lips as she lifted herself from the bath, water droplets cascading down her smooth, sun-kissed skin. She grabbed the phone, tapping the screen to answer the call and putting it on speaker.

"Hi, hottie," Y/N greeted, her voice playful and warm.

Quinn's nerdy, endearing voice filled the bathroom, a chuckle evident in his tone. "Hey there, beautiful. How's my favorite girl doing tonight?"

Y/N reached for her glass of wine, the deep, rich red liquid swirling in the crystal glass. She took a sip, savoring the bold, fruity flavors on her tongue before responding. "Oh, you know, just unwinding after a long day at the office. How about you, handsome?"

"Counting down the minutes until I get to see you tomorrow," Quinn replied, a hint of mischief in his voice. "I can't stop thinking about how stunning you'll look in that red dress."

Y/N laughed softly, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. She set the wine glass down, running her fingers through her damp hair, pushing it away from her face. "Mmm, you sure know how to make a girl feel special," she purred, her tone flirtatious.

"That's because you are special, Y/N," Quinn said, his voice softening. "I can't wait to have you all to myself tomorrow. No work, no distractions, just you and me."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words, a giddy feeling spreading through her chest. She bit her lower lip, a coy smile playing on her features. "I like the sound of that," she murmured, her voice low and sultry. "You better be prepared to sweep me off my feet, mister."

Quinn's laughter filled the bathroom, warm and infectious. "Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve, don't you worry."

As they continued their playful banter, Y/N sank back into the bath, the warm water enveloping her once more. She closed her eyes, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she listened to Quinn's voice, the sound soothing her soul and filling her with anticipation for the day to come.

…

As the morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the bedroom, Y/N's phone buzzed incessantly on the nightstand. The vibrations seemed to echo through the tranquil space, a jarring contrast to the peaceful atmosphere.

Beyond the window, the vibrant green of the trees and grass was visible, a testament to the beauty of the early morning.

The bedroom was a serene oasis, with its pristine white decor creating a sense of calm and comfort. The plush, white comforter enveloped Y/N, its softness lulling her into a state of drowsy contentment.

Y/N stirred, mumbling incoherently as she slowly turned over, her eyelids fluttering open. She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight that flooded the room. As she reached for her phone, the alarm blared to life, the glowing digits on the nightstand displaying a crisp 7:00 AM.

With a groan, Y/N sat up, her hand instinctively reaching for her phone. As she unlocked the device, she was greeted by a string of texts from her mother, Dedra. The messages, even in their digital form, seemed to drip with condescension.

"Y/N, don't forget about the family brunch today. Your father and I expect you to be there, and please, try to look presentable. We have important guests attending, and we can't have you embarrassing us like last time. And do try to be on time, darling. Punctuality is a virtue, after all."

Rolling her eyes, Y/N tossed her phone aside and begrudgingly dragged herself out of bed. She went about her morning routine, selecting a chic and appropriate outfit for the brunch and work before making her way to the kitchen.

As she entered the heart of her home, Y/N couldn't help but smile. The space was everything she had ever dreamed of – a perfect blend of modern elegance and cozy charm. She moved towards the kitchen island, her bare feet padding softly against the cool, hardwood floors.

While her coffee brewed, filling the air with its rich, invigorating aroma, Y/N leaned back against the island, her eyes drifting to the television mounted on the wall. The familiar characters of The 100, flashed across the screen.

She sipped her coffee, savoring the warmth and comfort it provided, as she lost herself in the post-apocalyptic world unfolding before her.

Y/N glanced at her watch, the sleek hands pointing to 8:30, a frustrated huff escaped her lips. She quickly shut off the television and grabbed her essentials, making her way out of the apartment and towards her car.

The drive to the office was usually a time for Y/N to unwind and mentally prepare for the day ahead, with her favorite podcast playing through the speakers.

However, today's episode left her feeling unsettled. The young creator, barely 18 years old, was excitedly announcing her pregnancy. The way she spoke about it, as if it were some sort of miraculous blessing, made Y/N's stomach churn. With a quick tap, she muted the podcast, silence filling the car as she navigated the familiar streets.

As she pulled into the parking lot of the imposing office building, Y/N's eyes immediately landed on Alexandra, who was just a few spots down from her. A wave of dread washed over her, and she quickly locked her car, determined to beat her colleague to the elevator.

Y/N's heels clicked against the pavement as she hurried towards the entrance, her breath coming in short, anxious bursts. She could hear Alexandra's footsteps echoing behind her.

Just as Y/N stepped into the elevator, her manicured finger jabbing the button for the 4th floor, she caught a glimpse of Alexandra rushing towards her. With a sly grin, Y/N pressed the close button, feigning interest in her perfectly polished nails as the doors began to slide shut.

Alexandra stumbled, her hand reaching out in a desperate attempt to stop the elevator, but it was too late. As the doors closed, Y/N looked up, meeting her colleague's gaze with a sad, insincere smile. The look of frustration and annoyance on Alexandra's face was a small victory for Y/N, a momentary triumph in the never-ending battle of office politics.

The elevator began its ascent, Y/N leaned back against the cool metal wall, her eyes closing for a brief moment. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her racing heart and push away the lingering unease from the podcast. The day had barely begun, and already she felt drained.

It dinged, signaling her arrival on the 4th floor, Y/N straightened her shoulders and put on a brave face. She stepped out into the hallway.

…

The constant cacophony of rings and beeps filled Y/N's ears for the next three hours, the incessant noise drilling into her skull. The cramped office space felt more like a chicken coop than a professional workspace, and Y/N could feel her sanity slowly slipping away with each passing minute.

Just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Dedra peeked her head into the office, her critical gaze sweeping over the room before she entered. With a sense of entitlement, she perched herself on the edge of Y/N's desk, her perfectly manicured fingers toying with a strand of Y/N's hair.

"You know, you look stressed, Y/N," Dedra remarked, her tone laced with false concern. Her eyes then traveled down to Y/N's attire, and her face contorted into a look of disgust. "Is that what you're wearing to brunch?" she asked, her voice dripping with disapproval. "I guess it will do."

Before Y/N could respond, Dedra abruptly stood up and headed towards the door, gesturing for her daughter to follow. Y/N huffed in frustration, the weight of her mother's judgment pressing down on her. She quickly logged off her computer and gathered her belongings, trailing behind Dedra as they made their way through the office.

As they walked, Y/N could feel the eyes of her coworkers following them, their gazes a mix of curiosity and envy. She held her head high, refusing to let their attention faze her. Dedra, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the attention, her stride confident and purposeful as she led the way.

When they reached the front of the building, a sleek black limo slowly approached, its polished exterior gleaming in the sunlight. Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at the ostentatious display.

"Why do we need a limo for brunch?" she asked, exasperation evident in her voice. "Could you guys be any more extra?"

Dedra shot her a sharp look, her lips pursed in disapproval. "Appearances matter, Y/N," she said, her tone clipped. "We have a reputation to uphold, and arriving in style is part of that."

Y/N bit back a retort, knowing that arguing with her mother was a futile endeavor. As the limo pulled up to the curb, the driver promptly exited the vehicle, opening the door for them with a practiced bow.

Dedra climbed in first, her movements graceful and refined. Y/N followed suit, sinking into the plush leather seats with a sigh.

The vehicle pulled away from the curb, and Y/N watched as the office building grew smaller in the distance. She knew that the brunch would be just another performance, a carefully orchestrated display of wealth and status that she was expected to participate in.

…

message me to be added to the tag list. hope you enjoyed it. please lmk how you liked it.

(also I just made this idea today and I can't believe I already wrote chapter 1)

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vinillain · 1 day

Text

Great wave chapter 2 spoilers// analysis cuz ahahahaha Adamai… when I get you…

Alr, rant because I’m the biggest Yugo & Adamai fan of all time. And I overanalyzed this chapter to death.

And how the way Adamai treats Yugo is one of the main reasons he’s distant from Amalia.

This pattern of behavior isn’t new, in s4 he was quick to come to Yugo’s defense when Nora was chastising him. Using words like “we” and because both of them were still feeling the euphoria of their reconciliation came to each-others defense in a new unfamiliar environment. But after he sees how shady and “heroic” their family is he ops to leave, and does so without explaining himself (about the dofus) to Yugo or trys to convince him to come along. Something he definitely would have done in s1-2. (And this is because they have grown so far apart the bond they once had is distant, albeit still there)

This behavior is similar, and again appears here in their entire conversation.

Yugo who was brooding and trying to be alone after his vision is greeted by Adamai, who IS genuinely worried about Yugo, since Yugo now carries the dofus of their people he and Adamai’s bond is “strengthened tenfold” allowing him to “almost hear his thoughts” and definitely feel his fear and dark feelings. And he immediately calls Yugo out when he tries to hide how upset he was (which tbh he likely does because of Adamai’s next reaction in a bit, meaning this is a common cycle)

Eventually after some talk Yu breaks down and is honest that he isn’t okay. That his visions terrified him, and here Adamai isn’t dismissive right off the bat, he states that he could feel how bad it was because of their bond, and knew it must have been bad if it shook Yugo up this much

And Yugo tells him about the vision and how “I am the cause.” To which Adamai questions as he seems to think internally, and Yugo like in chapter one with Amalia doesn’t question anything, again he only says “It was real.”

(I am roughly paraphrasing their dialogue so it’s not 100% accurate)

At this point Adamai scoffs at him to which Yugo who’s still upset by his vision flips out on him starting an argument. Asking if he “bores” Adamai

And Adamai tells him he needs to think with his head. He possesses the power of a god and can’t afford to think with emotions. Which is true, TOT said that Adamai was the logic to Yugo’s actions. He is the thought and the anchor, but while he isn’t wrong for saying this, the way he went about it is making things worse, but it also it makes sense why he did act this way towards Yugo.

Adamai is not someone who bases his feelings on emotions anymore.

He’s spent his entire childhood training and getting ready to meet Yugo and find their people. After the loss of Grougal he has spent his entire life trying to fill the void with an adult parental figure who holds power and wisdom that can help him achieve his goals the way he knows mortals can’t. Hence the “we needed someone with more guidance” like in s4 to Yugo. We don’t see exactly what happened to him from the OVA’s-s3. But we know it had a drastic change on him physically and especially mentally. And a big part of that is that he essentially became a vessel to their peoples dofus. In order to cope with his own trauma and feelings and taking on that responsibility of all this power he surprised any emotions or feelings that could cause him to act rash or get in the way of his main goals.

And when he did let his emotions take over because of his blind rage, he ended up hurting people he cared about which left him even more apprehensive to show any ever again. (Hence why he left his newly found family in s4) But in doing this to such an exstent the way he does, he never actually solves any personal problems of conflicts. Especially with his loved ones. He can’t rekindle his bond with Yugo or try to fix their relationship because he refuses to show any vulnerability. Which makes sense after he was left behind, betrayed and hurt so many times, and more so when he realized that he hurt others in his own pain. He doesn’t want to get hurt or hurt others again.

And as he states, Yugo has power beyond any mortal comprehension. He now carries the weight and responsibility of their people, and their siblings dofus. Honestly just their peoples future in general. He holds power, power many people want to steal from him or rid him of. Adamai compares Yugo’s situation to how he had to handle the dofus. That he needs to swallow any emotions and think logically. Which he has always done more out of the two of them. Vulnerability is a weakness to him. And Adamai doesn’t want Yugo to get hurt or hurt others like he has in the past.

He is cruel and harsh in his words. Telling Yugo he does “bore” him. And completely downplays his twin’s feelings because he sees them as being weak. But he DOES care about Yugo, in his eyes Yu will end up suffering more if he shows this vulnerability. It’s why he is mean and tells Yugo he can’t be acting like a child when he has all this responsibility and power in his hands. This isn’t the same when they were little kids, the stakes for them and their people are much hire now.

But to Yugo, who’s tried to fix their relationship countless times, is naturally upset at this. He feels unheard, that’s he’s being over dramatic and that his feelings don’t matter. That he isn’t allowed to be upset at his own trauma. Which is something i think paralells Goddess Eliatrope. How people dismiss her feelings and say she’s overreacting. That she needs to “get over herself” because she is a great goddess with all this power. Etc. something I hope we see more with Yugo aswell.

Being a king already isolates him enough, being a demigod with all this power does so even more. To Yugo, Adamai is the only one he can turn too when he’s upset. It’s why he was so desperate to find him in s3. Over growing old and being immortal. The problems that mortals can’t comprehend. (Something that definitely upsets him because the more power and godhood he gains the more distance he has between himself and his loved ones.) But when he opens up to Adamai about his fears and issues he is shut down or ignored. And that’s why he won’t open up to Amalia. If Ad dismisses and scoffs at his feelings then why should he try to open up to her? He adores and loves Amalia and fears the rejection she might give him. It’s why the moment she was slightly dismissive with her “Calm down, it was just a dream” he immediately leaves to be alone. He already has to deal with Adamai, he doesn’t want her to do it to him too.

But by doing this he is hurting her too. Like him Amalia is STRESSED beyond belief. She has a ton of weight and responsibility on her shoulders. And she can’t manage the conflicts of her people (especially with the eliatropes) If Yugo isn’t there to help her, If Yugo won’t be vulnerable to her. If he doesn’t trust her or won’t rely on her with his problems then how can she? How can she be open with him if he runs away from her at the deepest issues when they share so much intimacy and love.

Their is already clear tension among the Sadida’s and the (VERY FEW) Eliatropes who now live among them. Many are unhappy with the changes, some openly voicing how “Armand would never have allowed this” suggesting they don’t like Yugo as their king either. And the old man talking about how he lost his son in the war, that the eliatropes haven’t faced sacrifice. (And this is despite that fact that they don’t know anything about their past or the war they went through, how they lost their own families- claiming they don’t understand Sadidan culture or tradition but never trying to learn the other sides either.)

Communication is the key to relationships. Being open and vulnerable is how we understand eachother. Something reflected in the main three so far and the Sadidans+Eliatropes. Yugo keeps shutting Amalia out because of how Adamai treats him. Creating this endless cycle of distrust among the two and it’s reflected in their own people. Both could be amazing rulers and created a better place if they were both open with each-other. But they won’t, and unless Adamai and in turn Yugo open up and show vulnerability. They don’t have to show all of it, trust is slowly gained. Little by little in a healthy manner. But if Yugo doesn’t then the discourse and tension will continue to grow among all their people. (And if you’ve seen the teaser for a certain upcoming chapter you can see how that’s going 😭😭😭)

Anyway, in conclusion: someone please get them therapy

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commander-rahrah · 2 days

Note

I'm excited to read it too! I'm glad you find it interesting! Don't worry about your post because long! Your thoughts are so interesting!

I agree that Astarion would have to come to terms with Reader/Tav's boundaries too since it works both ways! I definitely feel that Astarion would be too lost in drinking from the blood of a sentient creature to notice the signs.

He would feel ashamed when he's aware of their fear yet they still chose to offer despite that might made him feel like he manipulated them like Cazador did to him 😭

What his excuses are if they try to offer in the early days makes sense! He would be too ashamed & terrified to have such a vulnerable conversation with them yet 😞

He would feel safe enough to bring up their fear after he confessed about everything. He would make it clear to them he doesn't want them to suffer by making them do something they don't want to like he did especially after how much they have helped him & how important they are to him 😭

He would respect their decision if they said it's too much for them. He would support everyone's personal choices & autonomies even though the concept is still new to him 😤

He would need an explanation if they insist on feeding him regardless of their fear. They would explain that not only do they trust him, they love him more than they fear it 🥹

He would only accept if they establish some ground rules 👍 like he did when it comes to physical intimacy & sex which is healthy for both of them!

I know it's unrelated but thank you for adding this because you described me pretty well 🤣 I would definitely react to even the smallest of cuts so Astarion quickly but gently sucking it & giving a small kiss on it would be a fantastic distraction 😳

You're welcome! Thank YOU for entertaining me & sharing your thoughts! I'm glad you enjoy putting Astarion and Tav/Reader in all these different scenarios too 🤍

Here's my idea that I would love to hear your opinion! Just to let you know this is quite self-indulgent XD How would Astarion react to GN! Reader/Tav actually had suspicions that he's using them but still chose to believe that he's not. So when he confessed he manipulated them, they're even not angry at him.

They're sad for how much & how long he has suffered to be the way he is now, but they're also genuinely hurt that he did take advantage of their trust in him. They don't blame him but they admit it still hurts and wants some time alone to process it.

After leaving them be, they would go to him when they're ready to talk to him. They would tell him how grateful they are that he chose to come clean with them despite knowing how it would be easier for him to keep quiet for it, and thanked him for trusting them enough to be honest with them.

What do you think of it? I'm curious :3

Hi Anon! Sorry for the super late response, I let this one stew for a little while in my brain and the other night I had this dialogue idea and couldn’t resist writing a little scene about it tonight! I hope you enjoy ❤️

I envisioned this scene happens half way through his confession, and then imagined the rest of the conversation about intimacy and boundaries would happen afterwards! It’s about 1100 words, and canonical Astarion backstory warnings apply — trauma, dark thoughts, etc.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

“I just — I feel awful." Astarion’s throat worked silently, his eyes glancing down to his boots. "Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan — seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy — instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in." He finally looked up at your face, studying intensely for your reaction.

“I—oh,” You pulled your hand away from him as uncertainty flooded your features. He saw your eyes dart back and forth, but they weren’t studying him. No, you were lost in thought. “Oh.”

Astarion licked his lips, his hands ringing together in front of him nervously. “You have every right to be angry.”

“I’m not angry. I thought we… I don’t know what I thought.”

The rest of what he had planned to say vanished out of his mind. Instead it started to betray him, a cruel voice whispering about how he knew you would react like this. Did he really think it would go well?

His pink mouth hung open as he scrambled for what to say, trying to think of how to make this better. But he’d done enough already, hadn’t he?

You crossed your arms over your body, your cheeks flushing deeply. “I feel a bit like a fool. None of it was real, the whole time?”

“Not the whole time,” He confessed as soft, vulnerable moments with you flashed in his mind. The very moments that made him start to drop the act. “It hasn’t been as of late, but before… in the beginning, up until recently, yes.”

His red eyes followed your throat as it bobbed up and down before flicking back up to your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your mouth a sad pout.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Astarion whispered, not daring to move forward.

“I’m thinking… I need a moment.” You admitted, already looking behind you and away from him.

His heart sank, but he nodded. “I— okay. Of course.”

And then you were off, your head down as you stalked away from the edge of the beach and back to the warm glow of camp.

He stood there stunned for a moment, before turning around to stare at the dark, choppy waters in front of him. Hundreds of scenarios began to dance in his mind — what if you went back to the camp to tell the others? Would he be met by pointed blades and blazing spells? He imagined being kicked out, staked, cursed, roasted alive with fireballs. Hand delivered to Cazador as extra punishment for his sins. Anything his twisted broken mind could come up with played like a messed up vision.

Astarion didn’t even try to stop the repetitive dark thoughts. It was what he deserved.

Eventually, the vampire slinked back into the camp some time later — once the sky was inky black and the moon was the only light to illuminate the way back to his tent.

“Hi.”

The sound caused his ears and shoulders to perk up instantly. You were sat in the grass and dirt outside of his tent, your arms wrapped around your knees and pulled to your chest.

“Hi.” Gods, he sounded breathless. But he couldn’t see any weapons or angry barbarians or wizards nearby. That was a good sign, right?

“I wasn’t sure when you’d come back.”

He cocked a brow, “I figured you wouldn’t want to see me again.”

A sigh escaped your lips, “Astarion, don’t be dramatic. I asked for time to think — not for you to leave.”

He blinked at your sharp tone, but nodded his head in slight defeat. “You’re right. And you waited for me because—?”

You brushed off your clothes as you stood up to his height, “I would like to finish that conversation, if you’re ready.”

Well, there was no denying the inevitable.

He nodded his head solemnly, stepping forward to open the flap of his tent and inviting you in with a wave of his hand.

The privacy his tent offered was slight, but this late in the night he knew most of his companions would be fast asleep. Quickly lighting a lantern, he joined you on the fabric floor.

His half-dead heart was thundering, the thrumming sound echoing in his pointed ears that he almost missed your quiet voice.

“I understand.”

“What?” His brows furrowed, looking at you with confusion.

“The stories you’ve told me… your scars… I understand why you did it, why you felt the need to do it.” You explained, your voice and eyes tender as you looked at him in the low light. “But you manipulated me, Astarion. You took advantage of me, toyed with me and my emotions to get what you needed. That hurts.”

Astarion’s stomach twisted into a hard knot, “I know.”

“But you also didn’t need to tell me any of this. You could have kept pretending, kept up the charade until we faced Cazador… But you didn’t. Why?”

Now it felt like his stomach was crawling up his torso and into his throat. Gods, what was this feeling? Why did you do this to him. “That’s what I was trying to tell you before. I failed with my plan. It felt apart the moment I realized… that I had fallen for you.” He admitted, but his fluttering heart made more words stumble out of his mouth. “And I know you probably don’t believe me, why would you after everything I just told you. Trust me, nobody feels more stupid about it than I do.”

You cut off his rambling, “I don’t think it’s stupid. I think that’s probably the most honest you’ve been with me since I’ve met you,” You said earnestly. “It would have been a lot easier for you to keep on pretending, wouldn’t it? Pretend I’m just another mark, another means to an end to get through the day.”

“I don’t want easy… I don’t want to just get through the day. Not anymore.” Astarion whispered across the small tent, staring intently at you.

You cocked your head slightly in question, “And what do you want?”

“I want this, I want us — to be real. You deserve something real.”

“So do you, Astarion. You deserve something real.”

Your name escaped his lips as a choked sob as overwhelming wave of emotion settled over him. “I don’t even know what real looks like. How do I give that to you if I—?”

“Do you trust me?”

The vampire nodded through his tears, “Yes.”

“I trust you,” You said softly.

“After everything I’ve done?” He croaked, waving his hands dramatically, “You’d trust a monster—“

You grabbed onto his extended fingers gently, squeezing them. “Yes, even then.”

He looked down at your hands touching, before intertwining his pale fingers with yours carefully. “Maybe you are a fool.”

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound waking up something in him he’d long thought dead. “Maybe, I am. But you fell for me, so what does that make you?”

Astarion’s mouth twitched up until it match your smile, “The luckiest vampire alive.”

#commander-rahrah answers #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #Astarion X reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion x gn!tav

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loneliestluvr · 2 days

Text

𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔

part 1. part 2.

pairing: eris vanserra x archeron oc

synopsis: Caught up in a world of hollow grief for her people, her life, and her father, Blair Archeron is forced into a life under the light she wants no part of after ghosting through immortality since being Made. But what she finds, is not what she expects.

warning: depression, worthlessness, cauldron trauma, angst, that’s kinda it for now tbh.

word count: 1.9k

taryn thinks: ive been thinking about eris vanserra for a long time and reading lost bonds by @readychilledwine about tamlin kind of gave me some inspo and motivation i haven’t had in a while to write this. also ttpd because ive been down in the dumps and feeling angsty so… enjoy!! 🫶🏼 i apologize if it’s a bit scrambled lol, i just wanted to write it out.

The fabric Nuala and Cerridwen had dressed her in erased any and all traces of the truth. The destitute it had felt her life became since this newfound immortality ripped everything Blair Archeron had ever known away from her, tucked away. Hidden behind the gauzy chiffon.

There had been small pockets of awareness, of feeling like she had control over herself lately. Where she didn’t rot away in bed, or a chaise— alone and wrapped in the quiet of her mind. Staring into open space, ghosting through whatever this life was.

Those times were hard to come by, and even when the war against Hybern was raging it was decided Blair would stay safe in Velaris. Where she had always remained. Where she did not leave, until today.

It was a pointed argument among their small circle that this life was no better than what Feyre had been through with Tamlin, but Blair did not fight it. Simply… existed inside of it.

It wasn’t that nobody tried to help, they did. They asked questions, gave the second eldest sister every chance to open up. To get out, to experience this new world. To talk.

Elain would argue even when she did, it was mere hollows of the person Blair had been who responded. The echoes that remembered how to speak, that walked so smoothly and carelessly that she seemed to float on a hot wind.

Blair was not fearless, she was not cunning, she was not soft, nor was she anything that her sisters were. She was simply… other.

And maybe that was the furthest thing from simple, that there were no words to describe the ethereal beauty of her hollowness. Maybe there never would be.

Blair didn’t seem to mind, and she got away with it.

Content was the feeling that seemed the most appropriate to describe the life she lead now. Moved into her youngest sisters River Home, with a large room at the end of the house overlooking the winding waters. The gardens Elain had crafted and tended when she wasn’t at the townhouse sat below, the large expanse of the land out to the river in full view. The snow capped mountains that danced across the skyline, one’s she sometimes watched Feyre paint in front of from her window day after day, month after month.

She supposed she had it coming when Nesta was forced to the House of Wind. When her older sister by a mere year had pointed out that Blair had amounted to nothing in the time Nesta had been taken hostage inside that House on the side of the mountain. When Nesta had been expected to work and be something, Blair had still remained as useless as before.

“She is adjusting,” Feyre had argued on Blair’s behalf. Blair had been the kindest of their sisters to Feyre when they were in that cabin, poor and broken and nothing. Who had helped with no qualms, who had genuinely cared for them all— even their seemingly worthless father. “—she did not ask for this, the same as you. At least she is not drinking herself to death.” The smartest of them, as Feyre had described to Rhys’ Inner Circle before those meetings in the mortal realm, others would have thought the same if they knew her before.

Before she became this… thing.

“You let her wither away, sitting about in her sadness and grief and her muteness. I would think she had forgotten how to speak if it weren’t for the utterly mundane responses she gives.” Nesta had barked back at their little sister while Blair sat by the window, unmoving. Her face a mask of cool indifference like she wasn’t quite hearing anyway. “How is what she’s doing any different than what I have? Because she isn’t spending your money? Because she hasn’t tainted Rhysand’s precious Court image?”

She didn’t care how they spoke of her, didn’t care to defend herself from Nesta’s forked tongue— it took more energy than she had to argue. Blair could have washed away right into the water that rushed through the river she stared into for all she cared.

Everything had just gone so… wrong from that point. As if Nesta’s breaking point was seeing her first baby sister be so broken and discarded, she had ripped into a secret nobody had even bothered to tell Feyre or Blair— that Feyre’s babe would kill her.

The rest had been a blur like usual after and here they were, dressed and gowned in the finest clothes they had. In the short time since finding out about Feyre’s deadly predicament, everyone seemingly had agreed with Nesta about Blair’s lack of presence in their court… or any at all.

The only people who knew she existed were those that were present when she was forced into the bitterly cold water of the cauldron. When it had felt as though she drowned, that she had died there and something else had filled her body. Felt as though she could only see herself from outside of her body, outside of whatever she had became.

Blair Archeron would be making her debut to the Court of Nightmares in the same fashion Feyre would be revealing her pregnancy. She didn’t know much else, didn’t care for the details or even why Nesta had been training in dances they both knew since childhood. Just what she was to wear and to come when called.

To admit the dress she was now wearing wasn’t utterly beautiful would be a disgrace in itself, and she looked stunning.

Despite her pointed ears being viewable, Blair’s long and heavy gold-brown hair had been curled gorgeously, cascading down her freckled and fair bare back to cover where her dress did not. Kissing and tickling the skin when she moved her head, half of her hair pulled back from her face into loose twirls and braids.

Her face painted in light cosmetics that she didn’t need. It was no secret that her beauty came first out of the four sisters, even before dear Elain’s— skin freckled, dark lashes and brows, cheeks usually tinted pink naturally. But her eyes, her eyes were the rarest of her sisters and what made her so profoundly different.

A base of that gray-blue that grew more vibrant as it met her pupil. But the flecks of nearly golden amber splattered like an artist had flicked their wrist in a rush is what made them so different.

Why the black of her dress fit her so much better than it did poor Elain, her second youngest sister nearly washed out by the bleak darkness she had been presented to wear.

The dress clinging to Blair’s torso was bedecked in gold sparkling beads that formed lines of detail along the bodice and the hem by her feet, the fabric black beneath it. Hugging tight to her figure. Eating and drinking had gotten easier after the war and had allowed her to fill out again.

Her full breasts wrapped tight to her chest where they sat prettily, the dips in her hips and waist outlined by the sheer sleeves that flared well past her hands, capped around her shoulders but left her back utterly bare despite the illusion of the chiffon looking like a cape.

The dress hung from her body as she waited almost carelessly to enter the throne room of Hewn City, and Blair felt a little like she might die.

The air here, anywhere, was so much colder than the sweltering heat of her bedroom where she kept the fire roiling day and night— where she felt like she was at home even if it was just in her head. Sleeping on the floor in front of it most nights, where the crackling of the fire could drown out the sound of her thoughts. Where the warmth could make her feel something other than empty.

Now. Feyre’s voice rang warmly in Blair’s head, echoing outside of the thick walls of forest she’d been taught to put up. Spruce and oak, winding paths lined with red poppy’s and orange geraniums, fogged over meadows to traipse through at will. A maze for anyone else, with no beginning and no end.

The rest of them had gone in a half hour ago it seemed, Blair to be used if they needed to pull a distraction or anything. She would be introduced no matter what, but timing was to be used as an advantage.

The towering doors to the throne room boomed open as Blair turned the corner to the hallway, the curls in her hair bouncing with every step despite the light wind billowing through her flowing sleeves as if she were gliding.

The music continued as she kept her head high and entered the space, hands folded neatly in front of her. A small upward twitch of her pretty red lips, her face calm and still.

Still as the room became when her feet hit the marble across that threshold.

She walked, one foot in front of the other. Head in a full fog before she even entered the throne room— but there was a tug. Something that had almost made her stumble, but she sucked in a tight breath as she focused on the dais ahead.

Pulling, tugging, a line going taut the closer she became and her vision cleared. Someone that had been in deep discussion before Blair entered, someone now turned to face her as everyone else did.

All but the Court of Dreamers gaping at her, at her beauty. So much different than her obvious sisters, a third sister to the High Lady of the Night Court, but so much the same that it was easily distinguishable. Gasps and whispers filling Blair’s now clear ears, but she didn’t look anywhere but the male in front of Rhys and Feyre— as much as she wanted to. As much as she pleaded with herself to look away, she could not.

The bright auburn hair, the pale and freckled skin of his handsome face. All fae were gorgeous, she’d been told and equally come to learn but… just the very look of him made her skin heat.

A look of something similar washed through his amber eyes, the matching amber to the flecks in her own, his throat bobbing.

Something like devastation went through this male and though Blair couldn’t tear her eyes from his as she finally made those last steps to the dais, she could see Rhys’ mask slip ever so slightly from the corner of her eye before it went back up.

There was a part of her, so enamored by whoever this person was— and something about him made her slip back into consciousness. That outside look at herself faded back into her own body and she didn’t realize until she breathed again that her heart had been beating so rapidly.

Or that she hadn’t addressed her High Lord and Lady.

Or that they’d demanded the crowd go back to dancing and drinking and eating.

Or that all she did was face this male, a look of shocked confusion painting her usually dull expression because somehow, someway, she felt like she knew him.

And that the tug she felt, that line, went utterly taut before him.

🏷️: @thehighladywrites and anyone else that wants to be added to a tag list for this or anything else lmk lmfao

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra #autumn court #night court #elain archeron #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #rhysand #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra x oc #oc #your honor i love him #me when mating bonds😦#cassian #Azriel #blair archeron

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