#his chin is an arrow
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focus on me.
pairing: mattheo riddle x reader
request: I NEED MATHEO OR THEODORE X FEM READER AND SHE JUST LOVES HIS HANDS AND ARM VIENS AND SHE WALKS INTO HIS DORM AND IS GOBSMAKED TO SEE HIS ABS AND SHE WANTS TO RIDE THEM AND SHES JUST SO OBSESSED AND THINKS HES THE HOTTEST MAN IN THE PLANET- AND SHE FOLDS LIKE A PRETZEL WHEN HE GIVES HER THOSE EYES- JESUS IM A CATHOLIC BUT THEO AND MATTHEO COULD BE MY NEW RELIGION-
author's note: big thanks to @writingsbychlo for listening to me rant about this man in her inbox. posting this now so she can wake up to her mans. the way that i would fold for mattheo so fast (theo look away). anyways, enjoy this purely smutty fic 😮💨
You were supposed to be studying.
When you came into his dorm, you specifically told Mattheo not to interrupt you under any circumstances. Usually, you preferred the library but some prat had accidentally set off a dung bomb, which meant closure until further notice.
You tried studying in your dorm, but your fellow housemates decided that there was no better time to throw a back to school bash in the common room than the night before your Ancient Runes exam. Harry and Ron, who shared the same class, appeared completely unbothered as they chugged firewhisky straight from the bottle.
Your roommate Hermione was long gone. Probably holed up somewhere in the dungeons with Draco. You followed your friend’s cue and snuck into your boyfriend’s dorm, narrowly avoiding Filch. It never seemed fair that the Slytherins got individual rooms, but tonight you had never been more thankful for it.
Mattheo had set up a whole battle station for you on his desk. There were fresh ink pots, newly sharpened quills, and blank parchment waiting for you when you arrived. After kissing your sweet and considerate boyfriend, you went straight to work.
By the time midnight struck, the parchment was filled with glowing runes, making your ink stained hands cramp from drawing out the symbols over and over again. To Mattheo’s credit, he kept to himself and read quietly on his bed while you studied.
You were so engrossed in the material that you barely registered him kissing you on the cheek before leaving to take a shower. That little mistake cost you because as soon as he walked back into his dorm with nothing but a towel on, you nearly spilled fresh ink all over yourself.
Water trickled down Mattheo’s chest, the little droplets snaking through his perfectly chiseled abs only to disappear beyond his v lines, which pointed like an arrow to what you knew was hiding underneath that towel.
The fabric hung dangerously low on his hips as he walked over to his dresser to pick out something to wear. You watched with rapt attention as he braced himself against the wood, those delicious, juicy veins protruding from his forearms and nearly making you dizzy with desire.
Finally, Mattheo turned. The silence had caught his attention and he smirked when he saw you ogling him.
“See something you like, pretty girl?”
You flushed. “Just got a little distracted.”
Mattheo’s grin grew. He sauntered over to you, leaning over so that he had you caged against the desk.
“Oh?” he asked, his voice low and husky and absolutely fucking sexy. “Maybe it’s time for a break then. You’ve been such a good girl studying so hard all night. I think you deserve a reward, my love.”
Your breath hitched as Mattheo’s lips grazed yours. He tilted your chin up, giving you a perfect view of those brown eyes. Then he gave you the look and you knew you were done for.
It was a look that said he wanted to devour every inch of you until you couldn’t even recall your own name. You gave in. Of course you gave in. How could you not?
“Maybe for a second…”
Mattheo took the opening. One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you up with him as he pressed you against the desk. His other arm crept up your back until he reached the nape of your neck, fisting your hair through his fingers as he kissed you roughly.
“Do you even know how fucking sexy you are, princess? My smart schoolgirl in her tiny little skirt.”
Mattheo carefully moved your studying materials aside before picking you up and setting you down on the table. He gripped the top of your thighs and brought you to the edge while sliding his tongue against yours. You whimpered as he grinded against you, showing you exactly how hard he was underneath the towel.
“Been thinking about bending you over this table all night,” Mattheo whispered in your ear. His hand climbed higher up your thigh and you felt your body instantly respond to his touch. “Bet you’re soaking wet for me already, aren’t you angel?”
You moaned as he toyed with the waistband of your panties. “Matty, please.”
Your boyfriend smiled at your nickname for him, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you. “What is it that you want, darling?”
“Touch me. Please.”
Mattheo smirked as he tugged your panties off. His lust filled gaze drank you in as he dragged two fingers through your slick folds.
“Fuck. You’re so wet. Is this all for me, princess?”
“Mhm,” you mumbled, nipping at his neck. “It’s not fair. You play dirty, Matty. You can’t just walk in here with nothing but a towel on.”
“Why not, angel?”
You sighed, tracing the hard planes of his chest. His muscles flexed under your fingertips as you gently raked your nails against his six pack. “Because you’re sexy and I can’t help myself.”
Mattheo chuckled darkly, plunging two fingers in your pussy. You bucked against his hand, watching in stunned silence as he withdrew it only to stick his middle and pointer finger into his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he tasted you on him.
“This is exactly what I mean,” you whined. “For Godric’s fucking sake, how am I supposed to concentrate after that?”
“Maybe we can compromise, angel.” He shuffled through your parchments and stuck one to the wall. “I’m going to trace the runes inside of you and if you get them all right, then I’ll give you your reward.”
You swallowed thickly and nodded. Mattheo grinned before giving you a quick peck. “Pay attention, sweetheart.”
His fingers dipped through your folds once more and you gripped his arm, fighting the moan from escaping your lips. Mattheo curled his fingers inside of you, drawing a familiar shape.
“Urus,” you said in a breathy voice. “It means strength.”
“That’s right, angel.” He shifted as you ran your hands down his arms. You could feel his veins throbbing underneath your palm as he fingered you. “Don’t get distracted now. I know how much you love my hands. I promise they’ll be wrapped around your throat by the end of the night if you get all these right. Now focus.”
You nodded, eyes fluttering close as he traced another rune. “Algiz,” you answered. “For protection.”
“Hot and smart,” Mattheo announced proudly. “How’d I get so lucky?”
His lips grazed yours and you willingly parted for him, fluttering around his fingers as his tongue slid into your mouth. He pumped his digits inside of you, teasing and taunting.
“Let’s try something harder, princess.”
Mattheo’s skillful fingers prodded against your walls, sketching a complicated shape. You closed your eyes and focused. It was a tricky one, but you remembered the cris cross pattern.
“Inguz,” you said decidedly. “Fertility.”
“That’s right,” Mattheo said with a smile. “You're doing so well, sweetheart. One more and you can have anything you want.”
“Anything?” you asked with a small smile.
“Whatever that devious little mind of yours desires, my love.”
“Okay,” you replied. “I’m ready, then.”
Your boyfriend nodded, staring right into your eyes as he marked the last and final rune. It was an effort not to get lost in those warm, brown eyes. But you steeled yourself, determined to claim your prize.
“Rerth. For luck.”
“Good girl,” Mattheo said with a smirk. “Fitting since you’re getting lucky tonight, angel. Where should we start?”
You bit your lip, cocking your head at him. It was nearly an impossible choice. You wanted to kiss him. Bite him. Lick him. All of the above and more.
But there was one thing that stood out from all the other deliciously sinful choices. You pressed your palm against his abs and grinned.
“I want to ride your abs.”
Mattheo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected it, but fuck he was so down. He would’ve given you anything with the way you were looking at him right now.
“You never fail to surprise me,” he said fondly. “Well come on then, let’s make your filthy little fantasy a reality.”
In one smooth move, he lifted you off the table and deposited you on top of his bed. Mattheo reclined against the headboard and watched with hungry eyes as you straddled his stomach. He smiled as you slipped the tie off your neck and looped it around him.
It was a simple move, but so fucking sexy and possessive at the same time. You were claiming him. Mattheo was yours and you were his. You belonged to one another—mind, body, and soul.
Mattheo trailed kisses down your neck and throat, leaving marks on your skin as his deft fingers made quick work of the first few buttons on your blouse. He leaned back and admired his work, his hands gripping your hips while you grinded your soaking wet sex against his muscles.
He didn’t think it would feel this good. There was something about you using his body to get yourself off that fucking turned him on like no other. Mattheo lifted your skirt up, fisting the fabric in his hands and watching as you coated him with your arousal.
The little whimpers you were making sounded like music to his ears. “My good little slut,” he said, squeezing your tits as you rode him with reckless abandon. “You’re so fucking filthy, baby. Using me to get yourself off. I’m just your fuck toy aren’t I princess?”
“So good,” you murmured. “You feel so good, Matty.”
The desperation in your voice set him off. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and bucked forward, smirking in satisfaction when you moaned. The ridges of his abs rubbed against your clit, providing the perfect amount of pressure to the sensitive area.
“Keep riding me,” he said in a low, rough voice. “Just like that, angel. Such a good girl for me.”
You closed your eyes, lost to the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Mattheo gripped your chin, his voice rough around the edges as he spoke. “Open your eyes, darling. I want to watch you cum.”
His rich brown eyes pinned you in place, drinking in every detail. That sexy smirk curved against his lips as he hooked his arms behind his head, admiring the view of his girl riding him.
“Look at you, baby. You’re making such a fucking mess. Such an innocent face, but you turn into a filthy whore when you’re with me.”
“Only for you, Mattheo.”
“Damn fucking right,” he said, sliding his hands under your skirt to rub at your clit.
You bucked against him, riding out the high. Heat exploded in your core and seeped into your veins. Mattheo kissed you roughly, staking his claim on you as he devoured your moans.
“That’s it, princess. Cum for me, pretty girl.”
The orgasm felt like a lightning strike. It hit you all at once, making your walls spasm as you came all over Mattheo’s abs. He cursed when he felt you soaking him through, utterly turned on by the mess that you’ve made. Mattheo had never been harder in his life.
Your boyfriend peppered kisses on your face, pulling you taut to him as you came down from the high. Mattheo brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, tilting your chin up so he could press his lips against yours. He groaned and held your hips down, grinding his boner against your ass.
“I’m not done making you cum, princess. You’ve got one more in you, don’t you angel?”
As sensitive as you were, your pussy throbbed at his words. When it came to Mattheo, you could never really get enough.
“I thought I only got one reward. You’re spoiling me, Matty.”
“There’s no question about it. You’re my spoiled rotten little princess. But this reward isn’t for you, it’s for me.” He smacked your ass, gesturing for you to get up. “Now come on, angel. I was serious about that desk.”
He smirked as he walked you back to his desk, his hands disappearing underneath your skirt as he massaged your ass. Mattheo kissed you roughly before he flipped you over, bending you on the desk so you were face down and ass up. He flipped your skirt up, hissing when he found you soaking wet again.
“You just can’t help yourself can you, princess?” He pumped himself in his hand before sliding the tip of his cock along your folds. “Gods, you’re fucking wet. Are you ready, baby?”
You whimpered, rocking your hips against him for more friction. Mattheo held you in place, fisting your hair in his hands.
“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg like the good little slut that you are.”
“Please, Matty,” you whined. “I need you so badly that it hurts.”
He kissed the base of your spine, grinning as he eased his length inside of you. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, you gripped the edges of the table as Mattheo buried his cock within your walls. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, but he kept you upright, cursing when he felt how wet and tight you were.
“Fuck,” he grunted as he thrust into you slowly. Mattheo gripped you from behind, picking up the pace. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice. “Gods, pussy’s so good baby. You’re doing so well. Taking all of me like my perfect little whore.”
Mattheo fucking adored the way you blushed at his filthy words. He leaned over, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you into the table. He thought he was going to pass the fuck out when you grinded back into him, meeting his movements to take more and more of him. Mattheo leaned over and shielded your head from the wall, making sure you were protected as the table shook underneath you.
The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your breathy little moans was enough to send him over the edge, but he wanted to make good on his promise. Mattheo always put his girl first. The boys were right. He might be just a little bit pussy whipped.
Even without the sex, you could’ve asked Mattheo to kill for you and he would’ve done so without question.
“I fucking love you, darling. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you,” he said, every word laced with conviction. “Forever and always.”
“I love you too, Matty. Forever and always.”
He kissed your cheek, the action surprisingly soft compared to how rough the sex was. You felt like you could’ve melted onto the floor.
“Cum with me, my love.”
Mattheo wrapped his arms around you as that familiar heat spread burned in your core. He held you as the orgasm rocked through your body, sharing in the euphoric high while the two of you finished together. His grip around you only tightened, hugging you from behind while he slowly pulled out. You were barely keeping upright as it was, your legs threatening to give out under you.
Without a word, your boyfriend scooped you into his arms and brought you back to bed. He cradled you against him, whispering praises and encouragement while stroking your hair.
“You did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you for remembering all those runes. You’re gonna ace your exam tomorrow.”
“You really think so, Matty?” You snuggled against him, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Mattheo stroked your back and placed a kiss on your temple.
“I know so, darling. You have no idea how proud I am for having such a smart girlfriend. I love bragging about you to our friends.”
You flushed. “Well, I couldn’t have done it all on my own. I had some help from my smart, sweet, and sexy study partner.
Mattheo grinned and kissed you gently. “Glad to be of service, my love.”
taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468
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#FERAL FOR THIS MAN#THE DELULU IS THE SOLULU#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle x y/n#mattheo x you#benjamin wadsworth
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[2024 Valentines Day Special] [summary - Cupid wants your hand in marriage, but you think it's a prank.]
— "You, give me your hand in marriage!!" You stared at the pink haired man that had wings on his back with a blank stare. You look around at your surroundings once more before sighing.
"Sir. This is a 24-hour convenience store, not some comedy TV show." You yawned as you look down back at your phone because you figured he wasn't there to buy anything. Only thing is, HE FUCKING SHOT AN ARROW AT YOUR PHONE.
"The fuc—" Your mouth shut up so fast once you realized a heart-shaped tipped arrow was underneath your chin. You looked back up, and his face had an angry pout on it.
"Listen here, you! My mother says that you are my fated one, so you must give me your hand in marriage, or else I will find the entirety of your bloodline and end it right now." He huffed without looking away, making you feel he wasn't playing with his words.
"I- uh, but I'm not ready to be married as yet. I don't know your name, your likes and dislikes, nor have I introduced myself to your parents!" You tried reasoning with him, and it actually made him stop and think, so you spoke up again and pushed the arrow downwards.
"Don't you think I should be able to know about my "future husband", so we could have a "harmonious" relationship." You were bullshitting at this point because you still had your future ahead of you, i mean you were only 22.
"Ah... I see. Then we shall be boyfriend and girlfriend. Though, we shall be staying on Mount Olympus!" He smiled before jumping over the counter and on your lap.
"Wait, you're joking. It isn't funny to be pranking a minimum wage college student." You frown as you tried moving him away, but he sat there with no intentions to move.
"Well, you're not going to be a minimum wage college student in Mount Olympus!" He planted a kiss on you before making you open your mouth forcefully and shoving his tongue in it. He moaned in delight and hugged your body.
Once he pulled away, there was a warm feeling on your tongue that made you feel unsettled. All the pink haired man did was giggle at your behavior and blew a kiss at you.
"I've marked you. Now, the gods will know who you belong to." You blinked at him before trying to get up and leave from this ridiculous situation, but you didn't go that far as he summoned a portal to Mount Olympus and tossed you in, knowing that there was going to be a long fall and all you could say was,
"FUCK YOUUUUUUUU...." As you fell.
Hap Valinturns. Hope yall are giving your partners chocolate cus i want some. No, i don't have a partner but i got my friends :D. Anyways, it's short but dramatic like always.
No proofread
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Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.
“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.
You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.
“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.
“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.
He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.
You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”
“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.
But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.
“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“
“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.
Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.
“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”
He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he’d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.
“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”
“Oh god..”
It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?
How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.
He knew what he had to do.
The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.
Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.
While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.
Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.
Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.
You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.
Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.
Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.
“Why was it you?”
Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.
In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.
With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.
You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.
“Ugh….”
You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.
“D-don’t go.”
You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”
He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”
A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.
“Wait, no-“
“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.
“My love, don’t-“
You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.
What was he screaming? What else if not your name.
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#oc#male yandere#obsessed#yandere oc#possesive#misstycloud oc#yandere husband#vampire hunter husband#vampire reader#wife reader#vampire wife reader#yandere x reader#toxic#yandere husband x wife reader#yandere oc x reader#yandere imagine#fantasy#yandere human x vampire reader
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— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ pt.2
pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader
summary: after lord eros' silly little trick, you're now forced to deal with the consequences— more specifically, in the form of a lovestruck luke castellan.
warnings: tons of corny pick-up lines
genre: still very much a romcom
part 1
note: thank you, thank you! all your support for pt.1 means the world to me! really, i couldn't be more grateful 𖹭 i hope you think this brings justice to the first half 𖹭
─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───
“What do you mean you can’t do anything?” You suppressed the urge to shriek, settling for gritted emphasis instead. You crossed your arms across your chest, your foot tapping impatiently against the wooden floorboards of the Big House.
“Exactly what it means.” Chiron responded, looking at Luke with more amusement rather than concern.
“But he's under a spell,” You reasoned in disbelief. You might have spilled over your words while you explained the rundown to Chiron, but they were coherent enough to at least get that point across.
“It’ll wear off eventually, kid.” Mr. D downed an entire can of diet soda in one go before procuring another one in his outstretched hand. He snickered at the intent puppy eyes Luke was giving you. “That type of love magic won’t last long. Best to let it run its course than tamper with it.”
“But–” You wanted to argue before Mr. D stopped you. He pushed his feet up on his desk.
“Look, at least this proves that your boyfriend actually loves you.” He gave you a pointed look. What does that even mean? “Now, leave.”
You huffed indignantly, but decided against speaking further. You begrudgingly turned around and pulled Luke up by his arm, guiding him towards the narrow hallway that led to the foyer.
“When did I become your boyfriend?” Luke huddled closer to you, whispering as you made your way to the front door.
“You didn’t.” You told him plainly. You shook your head. “You aren’t.”
“Yet.” He responded, his tone a bit mischievous but his gaze sure and determined.
─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───
You leaned your elbows against the table of the crowded Arts and Crafts Center, your chin resting against the pad of your thumbs. You studied Luke with a contemplating gaze.
“I hit you with one of Eros’ arrows.” You told him. This was hardly the proper place to have this conversation, but the rest of the Aphrodite cabin practically hauled you to the building to begin Valentinkering? Valenmaking? (whatever in Tartarus they decided to call it this year).
“Well, I guess you could say I’ve been lovestruck by you.” He said, giving you a stupid little wink as he mirrored your posture.
“Gods, Luke. That was corny as hell.” You flushed almost as crimson as the container of beads in front of you. “Also, I’m serious.”
“And who said I wasn’t?” He challenged. He smirked against his fist, wiggling his eyebrows.
You snorted. “The fact that you’re under some valentine voodoo makes all your intentions questionable.”
“You wound me.” He feigned offense, pouting as he clutched at the fabric of his shirt above his chest. “To be fair, my train of thought has always been questionable when it comes to you.”
“On a more serious note, I do remember the whole arrow thing.” He told you, his lips pursed. “I don’t blame you; it was a complete accident. It just feels… odd.”
“Again: unimpressed.” You buried your face into your hands, the second hand embarrassment of his poor attempt at flirting was overwhelmingly potent. Besides, it was difficult not to react when he looked at you so intently, like he was trying to memorize every minute detail of you.
Your ears perked up, worried. “You feel odd?”
“No,” He shook his head. His expression was perplexed, maybe a bit incredulous too. “That’s the thing. I feel completely normal.”
“That is weird.” You agree. You wrap the string in between your fingers around his wrist, measuring it to his size. "Maybe it was just a prank?"
“No. If anything, it’s more like I can’t hold my tongue.” He shrugs. “I can’t help but say what I think.”
“Would that explain the flirting?” You tease. All cheeky, but with a hint of curiosity hidden beneath the humor.
He leaned in, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
You stare at him, tilting your head. He returns your gaze just as intensely, brown eyes fixed onto yours. He raises an eyebrow as if to question your silence. There was something magnetic between the two of you, pulsing and pulling you closer— maybe not physically, but definitely in other ways unbeknownst to you.
“Woah!” Percy exclaimed with an accusatory edge to his tone, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and his palms raised as if to distance himself from you. “Respect for the children, maybe? Consider shielding my young impressionable eyes from this trauma?”
“Percy!” You squeaked rather uncharacteristically. Annabeth trailed behind closely, pushing a leg over the bench to sit beside you. You smiled at her, tugging her closer by placing your arm around her shoulders.
“Annabeth,” Luke called. “Trade places with me.”
Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows in confusion before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “No.”
“Come on.” He persisted. He leaned in, almost conspiratorial. “You know, the Stoll brothers have an extensive archive, and I think I may have heard word of them having that Rem Kolhaas book you've been raving about."
Annabeth stopped to consider the offer before ultimately conceding. She stood up from her seat. “That’s a big bribe for a small favor.”
“Know what prices to pay to win your battles.” Luke muttered as he sidled up next to you, grinning triumphantly. His fingers played with the hem of your weathered camp shirt. “Sacrifices aren’t much in the face of victory.”
“Did you just use a bad battle strategy as a flirting tactic?” Annabeth scrunched her nose in distaste. “Gross.”
"Done." You finish tying up the ends, letting the red bracelet dangle in Luke's line of vision.
"It looks so pretty, baby." He compliments you, holding out his wrist. You proudly put it on for him. "Not as pretty as you though."
You scoff. Both Annabeth and Percy imitate gagging noises.
─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───
The only time you ever truly left each other’s side were the few moments of reprieve before dinner where you’d returned to your cabins. The older campers insisted on making the meal a whole affair, complete with a romantic candlelit set-up and a string quartet to serenade everyone. Chiron decided to indulge the request and sent everyone back to freshen up.
“Have fun with your boyfriend?”
“Christ!” You jumped in your spot, turning around to see Eros laying on one of the bunks. His arms were tucked underneath his head, his smile suggestive and knowing.
“Lord Eros,” You bowed.
“That is not your shade.” He tutted, pointing to the tinted gloss in your hand. “Too summery for your complexion this time of year. Go for the pink one. He’ll go berserk.”
“Thanks.” You muttered, facing your vanity once more. You dabbed the product against your lips. You sighed as you inspected your make-up. Once more, he was right.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He shifted to his side, looking at you expectantly.
“Yeah, I guess.” You grumbled. You looked down, pretending to look for something in your drawer so he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks. Luke refused to leave your side the entire day— his fingers hooked around the belt hoops of your skirt in one way or another. He made a whole spectacle of it too: his big brown eyes tender, his wistful sighs, his shy grins, his playful winks.
“Good.” He clapped his hands. “Gods, the boy has had a crush on you for forever, you know. It was torture watching him pine over you. I can only take so much longing.”
You froze, staring at him through the mirror. He stared back at you.
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” He sounded shocked; he was shocked. “You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, how could you not know?! That's like our thing!”
“Well, he hasn’t been obvious, has he?” You rebutted, flicking your wrist.
“Sis, I don’t know what reality you’re living in,” He sat up on the bed, “But that boy wouldn’t know subtle even if it hit him in the face.”
“But surely it’s just because of the arrows.” You rationalized.
“Nuh uh.” He wiggles a finger in the air to deny the accusation. “The arrows you used just accentuate pre-existing feelings. Not make new ones.”
A knock interrupts your conversation. You hurry to fix your hair, brushing it out of the way. Your hands begin to shake with giddy excitement. You feel your heart thrum strongly against your chest, almost wanting to burst out from the confines of your body and find its other half in Luke. Your smile eventually becomes hard to contain.
Eros beams at you, his pupils dilating into hearts again like it did this morning. He opens the door for you and pushes you out. “Have fun with lover boy. Mother sends her regards.”
Luke spins around at the sound of the squeaky hinges. He can't help but pull a hand out of his pocket, his palm lightly grazing his chest. He whistles. “Call me favored by the gods because I think I’ve just entered Elysium.”
“You’ve been with me the whole day.” You responded pointedly, breathless and in love.
“And yet you still manage to take my breath away.” He gasps when you rush into him, wrapping your arms around his nape.
“This is new.” He looks down at you, your noses touching. His hands fall naturally to your hips, his thumbs rubbing against the fabric of your dress. “But definitely welcome.”
You gaze into his eyes before pressing your lips against his. They felt pleasant and pliant against your own. You tugged Luke closer, your fingers twirling through his curls. His hands squeezed your skin. The kiss burned sweetly, almost as if it’s been waiting in anticipation to happen.
When you both separate for air, Luke gently grabs your hands from behind him. He wraps his fists around yours, placing soft kisses on your knuckles. “I’ve been waiting so long for that.”
“So I’ve been told.” You hum. “I figured I might take the first step.”
“Don’t worry.” He presses another kiss against your lips, short and sweet. “I promise to match your pace the rest of the way.”
˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺
taglist: @ace-spades-1 @patitotodd @fandomthings-blog @bugcuti3 @liv1104 @mindflay3r
#luke castellan#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#pjo#pjo tv show#pjo tv series#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#percy series
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you and luke getting caught making out by Chiron or Mr D would be so good
| luke castellan x fem! reader
౨ৎ warnings ౨ৎ: kissing
౨ৎ summary ౨ৎ: you and luke make out and lose track of time… (btw don’t mind all the fake names i give campers. love ya <3)
“When I kiss you, the whole world disappears.”
it was a sunny day at camp halfblood. the perfect weather, not a cloud in the sky. chiron decided that since it was a perfect day, he assigned all the head counselors to do an activity with their cabins. for instance, clarisse and her cabin went to the rock wall, annabeth’s cabin went to the forest to pick some flowers and weave them into flower crowns, etc.
chiron picked you and luke to teach archery, because he thought this particular activity needed two counselors. you were getting ready for the day, sporting the classic “camp halfblood” t-shirt and a pair of blue, baggy cargo jeans. you were putting your hair in a low ponytail, since you didn’t want your hair to get in your eyes, resulting in you killing someone.
as you tied your hair, you heard the cabin door open with a squeak because of how old it was. you took one last look at your hair before you looked at who entered. your eyes were met with a tall, curly haired, handsome, strong guy. any guesses who it is? it was your boyfriend, luke castellan.
“hey angel.” he said lovingly as he came further into the cabin. “oh hey luke. what are you doing?” you asked as you went back to do some final checks on your outfit in the body mirror next to one of the desks in the cabin. you suddenly saw luke figure walk up behind you and hug you from behind.
you both smile as he rests his chin on your shoulder and you put your hand on the side of his face (i hope that makes sense lol). he starts kissing your shoulder and eventually goes up to your neck and you close your eyes, with delight. luke keeps kissing you up until he reaches your cheek.
you then turn around so you’re facing him. you look from his beautiful eyes to his soft plump lips and you find yourself leaning forward. luke sees you leaning forward and so does he. as the gap between you two close, you start moving forward and luke starts stepping backwards until his back hits one of the cabin walls.
his tongue slips into your mouth going wild and free, exploring it. as both your tongues meet, your caught a little off guard and luke takes his opportunity to flip you over, so now your back is up against the wall. you can taste the strawberries and blueberries from this mornings breakfast on his lips. the sweet, yet bitter taste.
⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆
chiron is walking around, seeing how everyone is doing with their activities/classes. he walks to the archery range, only to find the campers are just sitting there. “my my! what are you all doing? why aren’t you doing archery?” he asked, very confused with some concern laced in his voice.
“counselor luke and counselor y/n aren’t here to teach us anything. we don’t know what to do.” a little blonde girl named elise said, shyly. chiron squinted and looked very confused. “why would they miss teaching? where would they be?” he mentally asked himself.
“hm. alright. i’ll go look for them and… you!” he said while pointing at a random guy who was sitting with everyone else, “you’re in charge. start having everyone get their bows and arrows ready.” chiron ordered before rushing off to find you and luke.
⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆
chiron burst through the doors of every cabin and found no trace of you or luke. he was on the last cabin and he barged in. and there he found you and luke against the wall. making out. “what is the meaning of this?!” he yelled. you and luke jumped apart from each other, scared at the sudden noise. as you both made eye contact with chiron he boomed, “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TEACH CAMPERS ARCHERY 20 MINUTES AGO! AND HERE I FOUND YOU TWO KISSING? OUT RIGHT NOW.”
with an embarrassed look on both luke and your faces, you started walking towards the door, kind of sad that you missed 20 minutes of teaching campers. you felt so bad. you were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard chiron, “you will both be cleaning all the cabins tomorrow as punishment.” luke seemed to accept his fate by nodding and slightly smiling.
you on the other hand, “ewww even the hygieia cabin?” you asked making a disgusted face. “for being the kids of the cleanest goddess, they sure are dirty and messy.”
⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆
౨ৎ a/n ౨ৎ- i hope u liked this🫶🏻🫶🏻!! happy episode 4 dayyy <3
-jules🎀
⋆𖦹.✧˚taglist⋆𖦹.✧˚
@t0byisher3 @simrah1012 @mimisamisasa @lizziesfirstwife
#charlie bushnell#lukecastellan#percyjackson#child of hermes#hermes#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#percy jackson x reader#pjo
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Plssss write something wehere reader and virgin Luke fuck
[nsfw 17+]
no need to tell me twice! this is sooo obviously loser!luke coded and i'm glad he's back in my corner. and let's be honest, he wouldn't have a damn clue where to put his hands the entire time...
luke just wants to touch you, all of you. and it makes you smile when you feel his hands trail from your cheeks, your neck, down your shoulders, and once he felt a little braver, he'd grasp at your chest, brows furrowed, and lips parted.
your skin is warm, and the weight of his hands on you has you mewling. you drop your head and look down at him. luke can barely keep his eyes open, but when you bring your hand to his chin, tilting his head up, he tries to look at you.
luke's eyes are glossy, clouded by a lustful haze. his curls stick to his forehead, a thin coat of sweat against his skin while soft, low groans spill from his lips.
you let out a breathless laugh, running your finger through his hair as you roll your hips. "f-fuck..."
he's panting, his hands running from your chest to your waist, then your hips, and shyly creeping near your ass, but not quite there. you kiss his teeth and lick into his mouth, grinning when he tries to follow your lips when you back away the slightest bit.
"c'mon, luke..." you huff, pressing your forehead against his. "i've been doin' all the work, care to help a girl out?"
he's bottomed out, buried inside you as you rock your hips against his. you hold onto his shoulders for support, legs aching, but the pretty sounds that slip from his lips make it all worth it.
it's been ungraceful and clumsy, wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's mouth. you wished it could've been a little more coordinated, especially after you spent a couple of days looking for a spot you knew no one else would find you and luke in. a clearing far enough from the camp, but close enough where you could still see the lake, where the grass was softer, and none of the trees had any stranded arrows or carvings from the blade of a sword or a knife.
the sun beat down on the two of you, hot and golden, tanning your skin while luke can barely look at you without becoming flustered.
"what..." he's staring at your lips, "what do i do? what do you want me to do?"
he's trying his best, you'll give him that. it makes you smile against his mouth nonetheless.
"put your hands here," you guide his palms back to your hips, and you give them a squeeze, "and hold tight. i want you to move your hips, baby."
luke nods, a bright red hue on his cheeks when you kiss him again. his hips roll into yours, and a drawled curse falls from his open mouth. luke pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour it; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out.
you raise your hips the next time he pulls out, meeting in the middle when he fills you back up. his hips slot against yours once more before he pulls away from you so he can suck in a breath and-
"shit. you're so- fuck." he shudders, eyes squeezed shut.
you can hardly breathe, the sun is too hot, and the air is too humid, but luke feels so good, even if each one of his thrusts was so uncoordinated you had to try to roll your hips against him again so he could find a rhythm. it was half-grinding, half-fucking, and a delicious drag of the curve of his cock against your walls. yeah, you could do this forever.
"feels so good, luke." you moan, a little louder than you hoped when luke finally built the courage to grab your ass. "you feel so good. don't stop."
"don't wanna," he can barely get the words out. he's trying to kiss your neck but misses, and his teeth knock against your collarbone, the beads of your camp necklace hitting his nose. his jaw clenches tightly, "fuuuck."
one of his hands slides up the span of your back until it reaches the back of your neck, fingers ghosting below your hairline. you get a good look at him, he's a little bolder now, eyes wider, but brows still furrowed. luke licks his lips and lets them fall into a soft pout, a broken moan escaping him once he realizes you're staring.
"gonna cum, luke?"
he's nodding, his curly hair falling over his eyes as his hips buck at the sound of your voice. "yeah... yeah, yes."
you almost feel bad when you push him by the chest until his back falls onto the blanket. he stares at you, surprised, maybe, face unreadable as you lean down over him and whisper, "you're gonna have to work a little harder for it."
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masterlist
˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . i didn't play the demo (my laptop doesn't let me somehow), but i couldn't help myself from writing about him.
˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . lowercase intended, 207 words, second person for reader, maybe it's ooc for him (idk if he does write poetry, but i wrote it as such)
—sol.
raising your chin, your eyes instantly searched for the boy with dark locks, who was calmly sitting in the seat across from you. his deep crimson gaze meeting yours in a matter of seconds.
—are you writing about me?
you asked him simply, giving little importance to the topic.
however, your assumptions seemed more than correct, since a delicate red tone was almost instantly visible on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. it seemed that, as you suspected, the reason behind so many little glances stolen from his part was because he had taken you as his muse for the occasion.
the corners of your lips curved upward forming a gentle smile, which was soon covered by your right hand and followed by a laugh.
how could someone who looks so intimidating be so cute?
—at least...
you began to speak again, your hand returning to the pen it once held.
—… i hope you'll let me read it once you finish it.
with that said, you gave him one more smile before turning your attention to the notebook in front of you. in the upper corner of the sheet a heart with an arrow drawn through it and your initials written on it.
#— thoughts.#the kid at the back#the kid at the back vn#the kid at the back fanfic#solivan brugmansia#solivan brugmansia x reader#tkatb vn#tkatb fanfic#tkatb_vn
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seam ripper
[Image ID: A series of MS Paint style drawings on a blank white background.
Image 1: The Fun Gang from deltarune are about to fight Shawm. Shawm is drawn chubby with a brown cloak and wizard hat. Their clothing has various patches and stitches on it. Shawm says, "Let's see how you heroes fare against my..." The word heroes is in quotation marks.
Image 2: Shawm proudly holds out a seam ripper, saying, "SHAWM RIPPER-" but cuts themself off. The seam ripper does not have a red ball on it like most seam rippers would.
Image 3: Shawm looks at the seam ripper, scratching their chin, saying, "Oh, wait, it's missing..." Smaller parenthetical text nearby clarifies, "Referring to the ball"
Image 4: Shawm is bent over, digging through a treasure chest. They say, "Ha ha! Well, that's a bit anticlimactic, isn't it? Oh well! I'm sure there's something in my junk pile that can help me out here..."
Image 5: Shawm's paw holding a whistle. The whistle has the face and ears of the Annoying Dog from undertale. Shawm says, "Oh! A dog whistle! Perfect!"
Image 6: Shawm blowing into the dog whistle as multicolored lines come out. There is text that reads "Horrible piercing shriek" in all caps.
Image 7: Multicolored jagged lines, indicating a horrible sound, sit above the fun gang. Kris is grasping their head in pain, their hair over their face. Ralsei has rolled his goat ears up and is covering them with his hands. Susie is looking at them both in confusion, unbothered by the dog whistle.
Image 8: The metal part of Shawm's seam ripper. Shawm is saying, "Here, doggy!"
Image 9: The previous image, but with no text. The annoying dog from undertale is peeking in from the side of the screen.
Image 10: The previous image, but the dog has now reached the spot where the ball should be on the seam ripper.
Image 11: The previous image, but with the text "Dog vibration" in asterisks.
Image 12: The previous image, but the dog is now emitting an intense red glow.
Image 13: A plain white image with faint text that reads "Screen flashes white."
Image 14: The seam ripper. Its metal part is now glowing red, and the legendary artifact from undertale now resides where the ball is meant to be on the seam ripper. There is an arrow pointing to the orb that reads "legendary artifact."
Image 15: The first image again, of the fun gang and shawm about to do battle. Shawm is now holding their Shawm Ripper. They say, "Now...! Let the games begin!" At the bottom of the image is a deltarune-style text box that reads "Let the games begin!" Both instances of "Let the games begin" are in all caps.
End ID.]
#deltarune#seam#seam deltarune#my art#IT'S FINISHED YIPPEE#i was working on this like all day#my deltarune ideas
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the game’s the game
“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”
Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.
“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.
“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”
Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.
“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”
“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”
All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.
Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.
He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.
“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.
He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.
Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.
There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.
“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.
“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.
It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.
“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.
“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”
Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.
“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.
“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”
Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.
“What?”
“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”
There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.
They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.
Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.
“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”
“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.
“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.
“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”
The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.
“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.
Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”
Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.
“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.
“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”
“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.
“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.
“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”
Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”
“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.
“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”
Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”
He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.
It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.
“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”
Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco’s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.
They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.
“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.
Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.
“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.
Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”
“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”
He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.
Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.
“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.
They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.
Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.
“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.
Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.
“I thought we could talk.”
Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.
“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”
The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.
“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”
He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”
“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”
Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …
“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”
The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.
“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”
They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.
Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”
“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”
“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Shut up. It’s your quote.”
Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.
Read On Ao3
#quidditch rivals but ohh they’re secret lovers bet NOBODY saw that coming#kinda unsure about the tone shift at the end but ITS LATE I’m sorry ok#I just wanted earnest Harry which is MY FAVORITW THING#drarry#drarry fic#Draco Malfoy#Harry Potter#my writing#mywriting
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“for whom the tongue craves to taste,” [d.d]
“the cdc showers”
a/n: quick disclaimer – this is actually just a snippet of a larger piece that I’m putting together (a smutty 5+1 prompt, five times daryl made you cum, and the one time he let you return the favor) but as it’s my first real attempt at smut, I wanted to post this as a means to garner some constructive criticism before finishing the piece. If you’d be so kind to read and lmk your thoughts/critiques, I’d really appreciate it!
EDIT: I know it’s not how the majority of 5+1 prompts are done, but I’ve decided to post each segment as they are finished. I just think it’s an easier/less stressful method for me, so I hope you guys don’t mind the posting choice. the posts will be linked together for easier access.
the cdc showers – arrow mishaps lead to frisky fun – ever done it in a loft? – cold iron bars – the watchtower – I want a taste, too
c/w: explicit sexual content, cunnilingus, shower cunnilingus, tongue fucking, fingering, language, dirty talk, undisclosed age gap, 18+
word count: 2.4k
that morning, had anyone scooped you off to the side and told you that mere hours after arriving at the pipe-dream that was the CDC you’d be corralled into a hot shower with none other than daryl dixon squished between your thighs, you’d have laughed straight in their face and directed them towards the nearest mental institution – not that that would do anyone much good, given the state of things; but had anyone declared a statement that outrageous, you’d have thought their mind already gone, much like the drooling, shuffling, decaying bodies wandering the earth.
yet here you were, a steady jet of hot water battering the sore muscles of your back, liquor-laden torso slightly slumped, thighs spread open by broad shoulders and daryl dixon’s wicked tongue licking your little cunny straight to nirvana.
how the fuck did you even end up here, anyway?
it was so uncharacteristic of you – you knew next to nothing about daryl dixon. he was simply a mutual stranger. you’d never even had more than a few fleeting conversations with the man, for fuck’s sake; if you could even call them that. daryl was brusque and wholly unapproachable, and his attitude left a lot to be desired. due to his unpleasantness, you’d opted to keep your distance and observe rather than to interact. to be completely honest, you’d been more judgmental rather than observant of the man before, back at the quarry, internally critiquing his sour attitude, accent and frayed clothes; and, shamefully, even at times presuming that he was some forty year old virgin that had been holed up in his mother’s basement before the world went to shit – but, fuck, were you ever wrong.
maybe he was forty, maybe he had been holed up in his mother’s basement, who the fuck knows, but he sure as fuck wasn’t a virgin – at least, his tongue wasn’t. the way he moved it, fucked it into you, made a mess of you with it, there was no way he wasn’t experienced with it.
you let out a loud, trembling gasp when daryl suddenly broke his tender tongue-flicks to slide his teeth gently against your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.
okay, fuck, scratch that. he was experienced with his whole mouth.
unlike the few other men you’d allowed to taste the heaven between your legs, daryl used his entire lower face to devour you – his tongue was the star of the show, of course, but his lips, nose and chin made a hell of a supporting cast. when his tongue was busy fucking your walls, his nose was right against your clit in its place, his head shaking side to side, applying just enough pressure to bring you pleasure but not enough to stimulate you into orgasm; and then, as if he could simply innately sense when you were becoming desperate for more, his tongue would slip from your hole and return to your clit once more, circling and flicking it with expert movements, quickly bringing you right back to that sweet precipice.
how long had he been at it?
the water wasn’t cold yet – or maybe your body was just too hot to register that it was; but with the amount of times that daryl had built then robbed you of your orgasm, you drunkenly surmised that it had to of been a good fifteen minutes. any other man would have tapped out from exhaustion already.
of course, there were times when his tongue would get tired, but even then, unlike your previous lovers, he seemed loathe to leave you without any contact – he would alternate between giving your clit chaste little kisses and moving his lips against your entire cunt as if it were a second mouth that he was intent on claiming; then, when his tongue was rested enough, he would dive right back into devouring you.
it was absolutely wrecking you, in the best and worst ways.
maybe it was simply the affects of the alcohol swimming through your veins that fed you the illusion of this being the best damn head you’d ever received; maybe it was because you certainly didn’t have a lot of other experiences to compare it to; or maybe it was the warmth that came with the comfort of hot water and a full stomach that made it so much better – either way, you were almost at the brink now, again, thighs quaking with the effort of holding your body upright and staving off your impending orgasm; you knew daryl would more than likely take it away if he sensed it, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that.
“oh, god,” you hissed out when daryl flattened his tongue against your clit, flicking it with short, harsh movements, before slipping it down to part your folds and lick up your slit. he transitioned between the repetitive movements at a near imperceptible speed, without ever having to trade out accuracy and rhythm for it. it was a dangerous cocktail of pleasure that had you damn near seeing stars. each harsh swipe of his tongue against your clit sent zips of electricity up your spine, and built a familiar tension within your gut.
“ya like tha’, sweetheart?” daryl parted from your cunt just enough to inquire huskily, his voice so low that you barely even managed to catch it over the volume of the hissing spray. you nearly whined at the loss of his tongue, and, rather than answer his question, which you could hardly even decipher at the moment, you reached a hand down to tangle your fingers into the short hair at his nape, using what leverage you had to push his head forward until the tip of his nose brushed against your sensitive clit once more.
“no, d-don’t – don’t talk…” you slurred out, tugging at his hair insistently and pulling a deep, rumbling chuckle from the man below you.
“some manners you have,” daryl drawled, but to your delight, returned his tongue to your slit, parting your wet folds and slipping it past the rim of your tight entrance. your fingers twitched against his nape as you released a high, airy sigh, and your hips began to move of their own accord, humping your cunt against his face and pulling even more vibrating vocalizations from his throat. you just wanted firmer friction, damn it.
your stomach was stirring, tight, that pressure slowly mounting. it felt fucking good, the way he was thrusting and wiggling his tongue against your gummy walls, fucking you with the thick muscle, his nose bumping into your clit and sending subtle jolts up your spine, and those vibrations and sounds, fuck! – but it just wasn’t enough. you needed something different, something more.
“do… do what you were doing before…” you requested breathlessly, hips trembling, fingers digging into the skin of his nape in desperation. “‘m so close, daryl… just need more.”
the thought of keeping your impending orgasm away from his awareness seemed to have slipped away in the midst of the tremulous pleasure he was bringing you, and maybe you shouldn’t have let the information out, but you were so desperate. your tummy was so fucking tight, that coil winding and winding to a painful climax, and holding it in just seemed impossible, you needed to let it go – and at the moment, the only way you could possibly reach orgasm was through daryl.
daryl flicked his eyes up to meet yours, and though your vision was a bit hazy from the steam and alcohol, you swore the man was smirking up at you from within your cunt. daryl was silent for a moment, all movements against your cunny paused, before he leaned back slightly and said, lowly, “why don’ I do somethin’ better, instead?”
before your drunk, horny, fuddled mind could truly decipher his words daryl was in motion; his warm hand gripped the back of your knee, bending your leg easily and hoisting it atop his shoulder – distantly, you registered a strange sensation against the skin of your calf (was that a shirt? was daryl fully clothed right now?) – and once your leg was stabilized, he skirted the fingers of his other hand up your other leg, the one that was still planted to the floor of the shower.
his fingertips grazed your knee, then the plush flesh of your thigh, before reaching between your hips. you jumped slightly when you felt the pad of his finger run over your slit, the thick digit parting your folds smoothly, the tip dipping ever so subtly into your entrance every so often. like he was testing the waters, or something.
“d-daryl, what are you doing?” you inquired, heart tripping over itself, apprehension twisting in your gut for the first time since he’d invited himself into your shower and initiated this whole thing.
wait, had he invited himself? or did you do that?
you couldn’t remember.
“shh, jus’ trus’ me, sweetheart. This’s gon’ blow yer mind.” daryl responded back, calmly, warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit as he spoke. your breath shuddered in your lungs, but any further objections died in your throat when daryl’s hot tongue met your sex, circling, flicking, flattening, devouring – his pace was much faster and firmer than before, the pleasure much more intense than what had previously been given.
“o-oh, fuck! daryl!” you moaned, your hand sliding up from his nape to the crown of his head, fingers fisting into his hair to hold his head still as you rutted your hips forward to meet his skilled tongue.
“shit, that’s it, baby,” daryl panted, muffled, into the slick heat of your cunt, tongue drawing lazy circles between his words. “jus’ fuckin’ lose it. use my tongue, sweetheart.”
it felt so fucking good. it felt like your cunt was melting right into daryl’s mouth, searing hot and drippy, sloppy, coating his lips, jaws, nose, and neck with copious amounts of your arousal – all the while daryl growled, groaned, and moaned as he slurped it down, as if it was the very nectar of life itself.
your gut felt like it would burst – at any moment, with any flick of his tongue, in time with any of those vibrating groans, you’d be exploding all over daryl’s face, releasing every single ounce of the pent-up arousal daryl had inflicted upon your body over the last fifteen minutes in a single second.
“daryl, daryl, god, yes… fuck, don’t stop… don’t s-stop.”
you continued to repeat those words, falling like a river from your mouth, a mantra that seemed to keep you grounded as daryl’s tongue threatened to send you floating away –
a sound akin to a scream bubbled in your throat when daryl suddenly slipped two of his thick fingers into your cunt; the sensation was far from unpleasant but far too close to overwhelming – and when he began to pump them in time with the flicks of his tongue, and curled them just so on every outward pull, scraping against something at the top of your gummy walls, you simply couldn’t hold it in.
your entire body locked up, muscles freezing as your lips fell open to release mute moans, both hands now swinging down to grip daryl’s hair.
those silent moans you were releasing quickly morphed into loud, wanton, downright sinful vocalizations as daryl pumped his fingers into your cunt, still rubbing that sweet spot, fingerfucking you through your high and bringing stars to your eyes. you pressed daryl’s head impossibly closer to your cunt, humping whatever you could and burying his fingers deeper inside your walls with desperate, short, shaky movements, releasing a litany of his name and curses in between breathy pants and moans.
when the waves of your high had begun to recede, you slowed your hips until they came to a complete stop, your chest heaving from the deep lungfuls of steamy air you pulled in. your body felt incredibly fuzzy, your mind pleasantly foggy; but your body, and everything else, felt too hot, too cramped, too everything, and when daryl decided to give your throbbing, sensitive clit one last tiny flick of his tongue, you damn near smacked him in the head.
if only your arms would move.
a small gasp was pulled from your lips when daryl slipped his fingers from your sloppy cunt, the friction against your sensitive walls almost enough to have your entire body seizing, and it was only when daryl lifted his hands up to grip your wrists were you able to disentangle your fingers from his hair; only with his help, of course.
daryl then grasped the plump flesh of your thigh, the one that was still tossed over his shoulder, and pulled it down slowly, not releasing his hold until your foot was planted firmly on the wet floor of the tub.
when your balance was secured daryl scuttled back from between your legs, and when he’d rose to a standing position, his chest now centimeters from your own (which you distantly realized was bare) you couldn’t help but stumble backwards until your back hit the cold wall. your lids felt incredibly heavy, and exhaustion gnawed insistently at your muscles; but through the fog, you were able to register daryl, who was indeed fully clothed, the fabric of his shirt and jeans soaked and clinging to his body like a second skin – and you were certain that was a smirk on his lips.
a smirk that said he knew he had just blown your mind, even if you would never admit it to him.
it seemed as though your orgasm had sobered you up a bit, because when daryl sidled up to you, right beneath the harsh spray, and placed his large hands on your naked hips, you were able to lift your hands and plant them on his chest. he didn’t attempt to move closer to you, but his hands didn’t fall from your hips either; and when he spoke, his voice was chock-full of cockiness that you found simultaneously alluring and irritating.
“if ya ever want yer mind blown again, ya know where to find me.”
with that, daryl slipped his hands from your hips and turned, ripped open the shower curtain with little effort and then stepped out, as if he hadn’t just performed an intimate act on you. water dripped noisily against the linoleum floor as he stalked away, and, not one to give up the chance at having the last word, you croaked out,
“in your dreams, dixon.”
the only thing you got in reply was a haughty chuckle, echoing into the bathroom from somewhere within the quarters you’d claimed for the night.
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Was evelyn ever ALMOST caught by witch hunters?
I WROTE IT, BECAUSE DRAWING IT TAKES TOO LONG.
For some reason, I forgot I could just...... Write these little shorts with little illustrations alongside it, instead of drawing out the whole thing and it takes forever. So... here ya go! Two more little drawings beneath the cut with some text!
Roger growled through the gap amongst his ivory. He could not wrap his head around why his rival was standing there with bow and arrow, willing to.. What? Shoot him? For this woman. Barely a Christian woman, even.
"What are you going to do?" Roger gestured at Caleb's homemade weaponry. "You're going to shoot me if I don't leave?"
"Maybe." Caleb said, still not tensing the bow. "My brother's a real clever guy, he knows a lot about the body. Did you know that arterial bleeding is the most fatal?"
"Uh-"
"Looks the most accidental, too."
Roger furrowed his brows.
Caleb's brown eyes were void of warmth.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I'm holding a bow. I'm saying I'm pretty good at using it. I'm saying I'm a woodsman, you're not. I'm saying that if I wanted to accidentally shoot you and hide your body, I could. And if you were discovered, it's an arrow in you, not an English pistol wound, or a knife. And nobody knows you were ever here."
"...You're not serious."
"You can always find out."
"You're bluffing, I've never seen you use a bow and-"
"Leave my property." Caleb repeated. "And if you are going to accuse my friend of witchcraft, you better have more than suggestive or spectral evidence."
Roger glowered back, held his hands up in peace, and backed away. "Fine, I will." And left the way he came through the woods.
Caleb waited until he couldn't see him any more, before locking the door and pulling the curtains.
Roger had never liked Caleb, but before his rival took a break from witch hunting, Roger had at least had a competitors respect for the man. But respect turned to suspicion. Caleb had been acting strange for awhile... Glum and a lot more quiet. Then that woman showed up. And now the cove were against spectral evidences?
Caleb had been the most frequent and outspoken about how witches found a lawful loophole by using supernatural means to get away with their crimes. As it was difficult to prove that a witch had tormented someone in their dreams, for example.
And Roger agreed! Sure, Caleb was annoying, but they had both been amongst the best and the worst of hunters, being the same age only meant the two lads butted head to stay in their spot as head of a patrol. Being a witch hunter was a competitive sport, almost, it was hard to explain unless you participated.
They were not friends, but Roger was sure if the roles had been reversed, Caleb would've been suspicious too and, honestly? Caleb would've tried to save Roger. It was just good sportsmanship.
And this whole thing smelled wicked.
Caleb turned to Evelyn. "Are you alright?"
"I don't know.." She said and looked at her hands. Artemis had crawled out onto her shoulder to give her a comforting little spider hug. "My magic.. It didn't work."
"What?" Caleb abandoned his bow by its place next to the backdoor. "It's not working?"
"I don't- I was trying to make it work, he saw me. I'm sorry."
Caleb lift her chin up. "Hey no, it's alright. Maybe.. You've just been here too long?"
"No that's not it. I know it isn't."
"Maybe you're ill?"
She smiled up at the crease of worry on his forehead. He was trying to sound calm and proper, and she knew that tone of his. That rougher, almost demanding, serious tone. That tone he used with Philip and his friends when they were turning to him for leadership and give them orders - even if he was just as anxious as them.
His eyes flickered away, noticing that she had caught him spiralling with worries. He shook his head to get out of it and straightened his back.
"Are you ill?" He repeated with a softer tone
"No, I dont think so."
"Not witch-ill, human-ill?"
"No... I don't have any symptoms."
"Hm.." Caleb thought back at when she had visited him at his job. "Oh, was it the sprig of dill tea?"
Evelyn's eyes lit up. "Oh! Oh right that did taste awful!"
Caleb couldn't help but break out into a soft scoff. "Well, good to know that folktale is true."
"Huh?"
"It's said sprig of dill keeps witches and evil away. That's why we drink it at the morrow' meeting."
Evelyn's lips pressed into a line, feeling a little silly that she had so readily accepted tea from a bunch of woodsmen-slash-witch hunters. Of course they would be drinking things like that out of superstition.
"Right." She brushed her vest.
Caleb snorted.
"Stop it! I was afraid!"
"Sorry, sorry. I'm sure it's only temporary."
Evelyn looked at her hands. "You think so?"
"Yeah. But.. Why don't you stay here, just in case, until it comes back. Yeah?"
"Appreciated."
"Of course."
Evelyn swayed her skirt bashfully. "Caleb?"
"Mh?"
"Thank you." She pulled him in so she could plant a kiss on his cheek. "You've been my hero today."
Caleb's limbs were full of pink and red butterflies. He laughed nervously and swatted his hand around in the air.
"Oh! PFSH! O-Of course! I can't just- You're a maiden in distress! It's only the right thing-! Anytime, milady." And theatrically rolled his hand before bowing to her.
And that got him in the right height for both of her hands to cup his face.
"I think you deserve one more then."
And kissed him on the side of his nose, his forehead, and when his smile spread his lips wide across his face, she kissed the dimple by his side. And that was enough. Caleb crumbled, and turned away from her with an incoherent sputtering of words.
She smiled.
Caleb put his face in his hands to cool, stroked them through his hair and coughed. "TEA?" He offered, gesturing at the stove. "Er- not, that tea, better tea."
"Sure."
And took a seat nearby him.
#toh#the owl house#ttocw#the tales of caleb wittebane#toh caleb#toh evelyn#witteclaw#wittewife#caleb x evelyn#caleb wittebane#eveyn clawthorne#ttocw drabble#ttocw short#ttocw text#ttocw art reply#cavelyn#evelyn x caleb#wittethorne
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La da de da viking Price for the win🛡️🌺
Your heavy snow boots trudged through the thick mounds of pure white snow, the freezing breeze was pinching and nipping at your cheeks. The cold had began to hurt your nose as you breathed, the back of your throat dry. Trying your hardest to keep warm, you shove your chin and mouth further into the top of your coat and breathe out hot air.
You only wanted to hunt for food and go back home, but seeing as you couldn’t find any animals near your little cabin, you had to venture elsewhere for the hunt. Something you annoyingly regretted the further away from home you got.
An exaggerated sigh left you for the twentieth time today as you knelt down on the ground feeling the snow start to soak into the material of your trousers. Pulling your bow off of your body and an arrow from the quiver that was strapped to your back. You drew back the string of your bow, holding the arrow steadily in place.
Closing your eyes, you waited. Listening oh so carefully, for anything. The sound of any animal to make itself known to you. A while passed, all you could hear was the soft wind and a nearby steam trickling quietly.
Until the snort of a deer had your eyes shooting open and your weapon aiming at the creature. Exhaling slowly, you let go, the arrow whipping through the air heading straight for the unknowing animal but ultimately hitting a different target. A huge gasp left you as you watched the arrow go straight into the chest of a man, the deer snorted before running off.
You grunted annoyed and dropped everything to run to the injured man. Your eyes set upon his figure. Large and strong, you recon if you’d hit anywhere else on him that’d he probably wouldn’t have collapsed. Probably would have grabbed the end of the arrow with his big sturdy hands and pulled it straight out like nothing happened. Probably.
The realisation started to set in the more you stared at him, you just shot a man. “Oh my, I’m…I’m so sorry!” You panicked falling to your knees next to him where he was on the ground. His blue eyes meeting yours, looking at you as though you were an alien. His nostrils flared as he quietly grunted, feeling the pain begin to spread throughout his chest and body.
“I was hunting and….and you…y-you stepped in front of the deer. I’m so sorry.” Your hands hovers over his injured while your mind began to become frantic with how to proceed. You eyed the expensive leather that graced his bulky figure. Wrapping around every muscle eagerly. The fur cloak that was spread around him, clearly from a hunt.
It did little to hide the tattoos on his arms. Further up chainmail covered his shoulders proving how sharp you’d made your arrows for it to pierce the chainmail that presumably sat below his tunic and leather. You took note of his face better now, thin lips almost covered by a bushy moustache all connected with thick mutton chops and a full, long beard that caught your attention a little too much.
“Are ya’ done ogling me lass?” He gritted his teeth, wrapping his hand around the arrow and yanking it out. He groaned loudly, deep and rough just like his voice when he spoke. It sent shivers through your body in an unholy way. Nothing like you’d ever felt before.
“Are you a royal from the mainland?” You asked, worry underlining your question.
He bellowed at that, “Ne’er erd’ that one before.” His laugh trailed off as he pressed his fingers into his wound and pulled them away watching the blood drip down his hand.
“My bag.” He was gesturing to the bag that lay a few meters over from where he was. You scrambled to grab it, desperately trying to pull it open. The leather satchel was medium size with about a hundred strings tying it shut.
“W-What do you need?” You were stumbling over your words as you took noticed of the blood that was seeping out of his wound and staining the snow beneath him.
The man grabbed your shaky hands in his and whispered “Breathe.” You listened hesitantly, taking a deep breath.
“Y’know I think I’m supposed to be reassuring you.” A breathless laugh leaving you sounding more like a scoff, he let out a chuckle his face scrunching up in pain.
“In the bag, the bottle with the red liquid.” Nodding quickly, you searched through the bag and pulled out the bottle, pulling the cork out with your teeth and looking at him for instructions. He took the glass container and poured it over his wound and drank the rest of it.
You watched as his heavy panting of pain began to level out. He soon sat up and looked at you curiously, “I’ve ne’er seen ye round these parts before.” He states though you’re pretty sure it was a question, you simply shrug and stand up. He followed suit, a shock jolting through you when he stands only to tower over you greatly.
“I, um really am sorry. It truly was an accident.” You wring your hands together before offering one of them to him. He looks surprised and you don’t blame him, you’re sure a woman has never made this gesture to him before.
“Svo fallegt,” he seemed to look over you for a moment then let his large hand wrap itself around yours with a shake, “S’okay.”You nodded letting go of his grip and making your way to pick up your bow and quiver.
“What’s ya name?” He asked suddenly feeling a wave of panic as he watched you walking away from him. You answered, waiting for his in return. “Price. John Price.”
Now where had you heard that name before?
#squishycheekanon#Viking!price#viking#viking King#john price x y/n#captain john price x you#captain johnathan price#captain john price x reader#john price x oc#john price x reader#captain john price#john price#captain price x reader#price smut#price x reader#cod price#captain price#price#captain price x reader smut#captain price smut#captain price x female reader#captain price x y/n#captain price x you#call of duty smut#call of duty#cod fluff#cod smut#cod fanfic#john price x you#price x you
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❥ kissing them ⸺ coryo, peeta, sejanus, finnick
peacekeeper!coryo is not afraid of taking control. that scrawny boy who was your mentor no longer existed, his head was now shaved, his body had doubled in size and he held a peacekeeper position in your district. who would say huh? who would say that the last thing you'd do before leaving your district was gonna say goodbye to him.
"i'll go with you. meet me in the hanging tree. tomorrow morning." he said and pinched your chin with his fingers so you would look at him.
and so you did, you looked back at him with big eyes. coriolanus turned his head to check that no one was coming and then, with both of his hands holding your head still, he kissed you. his body pressed against yours and you had to take a few steps backward to avoid falling, crashing against the wall, and being trapped between it and corionlanus' body.
his lips were moving with such intensity as if he was trying to devour you, you could even feel your teeth clash. coriolanus squeezed your body even more with his and let out a few grunts straight from his chest when you kissed him back with the same intensity. but then he suddenly broke the kiss trying to catch his breath and looking down. "i'll see you tomorrow." and coriolanus left you there, with you breathing so heavily and having to squeeze your thighs.
mutt!peeta has forgotten what it's like to kiss someone. so one night when you were on watch and peeta couldn't sleep, you decided to go and sit next to him, ignoring the safe distance you were told to keep from him. he would ask you questions to which you would answer real or not to help clear up his confusion.
"we kissed. in the arena. before you shoot your arrow. real or not?"
"real."
peeta slowly nodded, feeling guilty and sorry for not remembering it. you remembered it all too well and you wanted him to do it too. once again ignoring all the security protocols they had prepared for peeta. you moved closer to him and caught his lips with yours. peeta didn't quite know what to do, but your lips felt good, the knot that had formed in his stomach told him. it felt so good that peeta was glad that that memory was no longer in his mind so he could live it for the first time again.
"i'm sorry," you mumbled when you parted ways but peeta shook his hands and went in for another kiss.
mentor!sejanus is desperate. his father had found him a good tribute to mentor but that person was from his own district. was that on purpose? his father always said that sejanus never truly left district 2. was he trying to punish him?
he left the academy room from which you were watching the reaping. he was sitting by your side and you could see the tight grip he had on his own uniform pants, nervous, before his tribute was announced. once the girl from the district you had been assigned was chosen, you walked out of the room after him.
he was mad, pacing back and forth around the hallway, talking to himself and waving his hands in indignation you got in his way and sejanus didn't seem to notice because he was so angry. you stopped him before he bumped into you, placing your hands on both of his cheeks and bringing your lips together. the boy's body seemed to release all the tension it had built up as he melted in your hands.
you broke away when everyone began to applaud for the end of the harvest. "any better?" you asked.
sejanus' cheeks grew hot, my god could you see them turning red? he let out all the air in his lungs and fixed his uniform. "yeah, i think so."
tribute!finnick is dying of nerves and all he can think about is your lips. his name had been picked again after five years. finnick didn't mind going back to the arena, he already won once and he had no doubt he would do it again, what hurt him was to be apart from you.
they let you see him before they took him to the capitol.
you threw yourself into his arms. finnick placed his hands on your cheeks and connected his lips with yours. you dug your fingers into his blonde locks of hair, pushing him as close to you as possible. his hands slid up and down your back, trying to hold you all in his arms. when he was starving in the arena he wanted to remember your lips. finnick's lips moved desperately against yours, knowing that this would be the last time he would have them for a long time. finnick wanted to remember their softness, how your saliva mixed, the way your teeth bit into his lower lip, the soft moans that escaped from your mouth due to the intensity of the kiss...
"and if i die in that arena, my last thought would be of your lips." you heard him say through your tv during his interview with caesar.
#coriolanus snow#peeta mellark#sejanus plinth#finnick odair#coriolanus smut#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus fluff#coriolanus snow fluff#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus imagine#coryo snow#coryo x reader#peeta mellark fluff#peeta mellark smut#peeta mellark angst#peeta mellark imagine#peeta x reader#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair fluff#finnick odair smut#finnick odair angst#finnick odair imagine#finnick imagine#sejanus x reader#finnick odair x you#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark x you#the hunger games#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes
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ೃ⁀➷ i hope nobody catch us, but i kinda hope they catch us.
- ,, neteyam x fem reader
- ,, you and neteyam get caught making out?
- ,, warnings - SUGGESTIVE! adults watch out this is a teenager ur reading abt. minors be careful yo, making out, neteyam is like deadass whipped for u.., can u guys tell i love when character is whiny and so inlove atp??
-‘๑’- les - childish gambino
Your friendship with Neteyam is not exactly.. per say, a friendship. Its what you would technically call it, since you both gave it no other said title. But we all know you guys aren’t just friends, lo’ak knows, kiri knows, spider knows, jake and neytiri know, hell, even tuk knows. Everyone acts oblivious as it is.
There are times where you wonder what your relationship really is, anything but “just friends” comes to mind, some specific memories take you back and give you scary realizations.
For instance, that one time when the whole crew was hanging out together in the forest, our designated hangout spot, you showed up a little after everyone else because you had errands to run, and Neteyam had saved a spot just for you.
“hey guys”
“y/nnnnnnnn” tuk smiles at you and runs towards you with her arms outstretched, signifying her desire to be picked up and spun by you, you do just that and laugh with her. “What’s little girl doing here with the big kids” you question teasingly, knowing Tuk dislikes being called a little girl.
“y/n, finally bro , i almost thought you ditched us” lo’ak says dramatically and spider and kiri laugh, you walk to the group with Tuk in your arms as you slap the back of lo’ak’s head, Tuk jumping out of your arms to go lay in Kiri’s lap.
You look at neteyam, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you came into their vision, he’s leaning against a tree, sitting with his legs spread quite a bit, manspreading was a trait neteyam got from his father, and it was so hot.
He pats the space between his legs, and you happily oblige. “hi” you whisper when you look up at neteyam, his chin resting on your head, his arms encircling your figure, thumb rubbing sweet circles on your thigh. “hi sweetheart” he flashes you his infamous smile.
Or that one time when you went hunting for rabbits with him in the forest, you just couldn’t set your aim right, it was getting so frustrating you almost cried. But hey, you have neteyam with you, don’t worry!
He helps you fix your posture, his chest pressing up against your back, he’s so close you can feel his breath on your cheek, his deep voice rumbling in your ear that tells you to focus makes you do quite the opposite. How could you possibly focus when he’s this close to you? Your insides are exploding with butterflies, your lower belly warm and your lip almost draws blood from how hard you’ve bitten it.
Somehow you end up hitting a rabbit with your arrow without even realizing and only realize the situation when you hear neteyam’s laugh and him congratulating you. “you got it y/n!!” (mf that was all you)
This man really has no idea of the effects he has on you does he?
You don’t have to think hard of moments like these with neteyam, they rush through your mind like a film reel. Countless.
No one really thought much of it when they saw you and neteyam having moments like these. No one questioned when he called you sweetheart, or his love, or beautiful, or some sort of nickname on a daily basis, not even you. All waiting for that one particular moment where you both realize its love and make it official.
Which seems so likely to happen today, the tension is thick through the roof with everything that just happened.
You’re patching him up because of course he just got into a fight with some dingus because lo’ak can’t handle a fight alone for shit.
“y/n, gentle please” neteyam lets out a low hiss as you dab a piece of cloth on the cut that bleeds on his jaw.
You’re angry with him, he knows that. And god, he’s angry with himself too, but what’s he gonna do if his baby won’t talk to him?
He doesn’t know what to say, anything to ease the tension, so he decides to go with
“are you upset?” he looks at you with soft eyes
you move his face around to find any other cuts to deal with, his chin between your fingers “so upset, you don’t even know” you hold back a grin at his quiet voice.
“im sorry y/n, lo’ak would get his ass handed to him if i wasn’t there” he sounds so desperate, which he is, for you.
your heart swells, you wanna play.
you put on an act and look away from him, huffing in faux anger.
“y/n please” he whispers, looking at you with pure distress in his eyes, you think you can even see tears. He’s so hard to resist right now, how is he not catching onto your game?? Or maybe he is playing along?
You decide you’re done. With two things.
Torturing him, and torturing yourself.
You stroke the apple of his cheek with your thumb, swiping at the tear that dare fall from his eye “take it easy neteyam” he nods eagerly, he’ll listen to you until he dies.
You sigh, and clean up the cloth and medicine and get ready to leave, standing up but neteyam grabs your wrist and pulls you down, onto his lap, his arms circling your waist as he holds you close to him.
His forehead rests on your collarbone and you stroke his hair.
“okay, nete look at me..” he obeys.
you cup his face in your soft hands, he nuzzles against them and you lean forward, you look at his eyes and he’s already closed them. God!!! He’s so cute you could squeal!!!
You smash your lips against his and his hands automatically bring you closer, your legs straddling his lap as you run your hands through his hair, grazing at his nape.
Neteyam pulls away to look at you for a split second, and you look so so pretty he just can’t hold his tongue, “i love you” he whispers against your lips, three words meant for you and you only. He goes back to kiss you before you could reply, he gives you a few open-mouthed kisses before you mewl into his mouth and he crumbles.
Neteyam groans and he attaches his lips to your jaw, giving you gentle kisses that trail down to your neck, “i love you so much y/n” you wonder where he learnt this from.
“i love you neteyam” you whisper as you feel yourself grow more impatient as time goes.
he kisses you again and you feel him smile into the kiss, your chest is warm, neteyam intertwines his hand with yours and it becomes sloppy quiet fast.
you’re both a mess, whining into each others mouths , you’re so deep into it you don’t even realize footsteps getting louder and louder, eventually you are pulled out of your fantasies when you hear neytiri address her son right before she catches sight of you both in this sinful activity, you pull apart suddenly and scramble to get off his lap, failing miserably as neteyam seems opposed to the idea of letting go of you.
“neteyam! fuck!” you whisper-yell and shove your face into his shoulder, his hands still on your hips as he sputters to explain to his mother what she just witnessed
Neytiri coughs.
“mother i was just- we were- “
“making out?” Neytiri chuckles and shakes her head, making her way out after grabbing the plate you used to fix neteyam’s wounds.
“neteyammmmmm i can’t do this right noww” you cry embarrassed into his shoulder and he shudders at the thought of his mom knowing what you guys were doing. He laughs soon after, snaking his hands around your waist as he holds you in his lap
“i don’t know this isn’t all that funny nete” you grumble and shake your head, “poor neytiri”
“no.. poor neteyam, i didn’t get to finish “making out” with you” he says, putting up fingers meant to imitate quotation marks to mock his moms words.
you slap his arm gently “as much as i was enjoying, i don’t wanna risk getting caught again.. ewya forbids its tuk next time.. i would never even kiss you again”
he gasps, putting a hand over his chest to fake his hurt and you giggle at his expression
he kisses you again, and again, and again until you have to put your hand over his lips and tell him to stop in between a fit of giggles, he laughs with you “just kissing you enough so i don’t die when you refuse me later” you grin so hard your cheeks hurt, but its so worth it.
You hear lo’ak , spider , kiri, jake , and tuk cheering from outside, “GO BIG BRO” “is y/n my actual sister now?” “ugh finally they stopped beating around the bush” “thats my son, on his lap?? thats literally us neytiri!”
Oh.. Neytiri told them. Great!
#neteyam x omaticaya!reader#neyetam#neteyam#neteyam x you#neteyam sully#neteyam x reader#avatar neteyam#avatar fandom#avater the way of water#avatar headcanons#avatar fanfiction#avatar x reader#avatar x you#avatar 2#avatar the way of water
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The Game
Nanami x Wife!Reader
wc: 2.7k
warnings: f!reader, mdni/18+, smut, teasing, ROUGH, manhandling, gentle choking, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering
a/n: this is a combination of my reaction to the latest jjk ep and a general need for manhandling nanami.
You know exactly what is coming for you.
You can feel his eyes on you from across the room. Watching you.
Watching his pretty little wife play games that she’d lose.
Because you have one goal in mind: piss off your husband, Nanami Kento.
Which is not an easy task. But you had pissed him off once before, a few weeks ago, and had been insatiably craving more. His reaction that night was… his hands in your hair, throwing you back against the bed, the words out of his mouth—
You can’t help but blush a little at the memories that flood your head now, as you speak to a man twice your age at this party. You know this man thinks he has a chance with you. He came up to you earlier, and is now flirting with you relentlessly, seeming blind to the ring on your marriage finger which marks you as claimed.
You giggle a little at something he says, taking your poker and stabbing at the fire. You sip the glass of wine in your hands. There’s no need to look over your shoulder to confirm; Kento is most decidedly watching you.
And that fire? It’s growing.
You can feel the way your white silk mini dress has ridden up your thighs a little, but you don’t do anything to fix it, no matter how much the skin on the back of your thighs sizzles and sears under his scorched gaze.
All it takes is for the man to reach out, try to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and the flame explodes.
Hands are on your waist in an instant, a cotton-covered, firm chest pressed against your back. You know that chest. Those hands.
“I think it’s time for us to get going, don’t you think, dear?” Kento grits out, his thumbs digging into your skin. A warning.
“Oh,” you pout, turning your head to look up at him. You’re met with a hard-set jaw and cold eyes, as your husband stares down the inferior man who got a centimeter too close. “But it’s raining. We’ll have to wait for it to slow down a bit, or have a valet bring the car around, we’re parked a block away—”
“We’ll walk. Goodbye,” he flashes the tightest, fakest smile you’ve ever seen, and then turns you towards the elevator, pushing you in that direction.
And what choice do you have? You half walk, half stumble forward, his hands never faltering in their iron grip the whole walk over. He stops you in front of the elevator.
“Button,” he commands, jerking his chin towards the panel with two buttons, one an up arrow and the other down.
“Why do I have to do it?”
“It seems that if I let you go for half a second, you’ll run off and let yourself get eye-fucked by a nobody in a cheap suit. Button,” he growls, his hands tightening their grip, causing your sides to protest.
You whimper softly, reaching out and pressing the down button. It glows a soft blue, and you tilt your head to the side, gazing up at your angry, blond man. “What’s got you in such a frenzy? I was socializing—”
He scoffs. “Socializing. Sure. I know the game you’re playing, and might I remind you that it’s a game you can’t win, darling.”
You swallow hard, fighting back a flinch as the elevator dings, and the doors slide open.
Empty.
Kento shuffles you both inside, and holds the ‘close doors’ button so hard that you’re afraid it might actually crack.
The elevator doors slide closed, and he releases you, taking two steps back.
Suddenly, the air is so thick that you can hardly breathe, and the thought of the fingerprint bruises he’s likely left on you fills your head.
“Ke—”
“No. No more words from you,” he spits out, practically punching the ground floor button.
You pout, and take a step towards him. “‘Nam, c’mon,” you poke that damned fire again, just waiting for it to burn you.
And it does.
His arm snaps out, his hand gripping your chin, tilting your head up. “I said, quiet.”
That sharp anger in his eyes makes your stomach flutter, abdomen tensing. You bite your bottom lip, and try your luck. “You’re a little angry, huh?”
Your back is against the wall before you can even process what’s happened, before you recognize that he’s shoved you into the corner of the elevator, one hand gripping your neck and the other pressed firmly against your hip, keeping you in place. His body is fully pressed to yours, and the straining bulge you feel is unmistakable.
“Angry? You have no idea,” he says, his voice having dropped to an eerily calm tone. “I want to throw you onto the ground of this damned elevator and make you suck me off right here, right now. I want to fuck your throat, and then that kinky little cunt of yours, until you are sobbing and begging me to stop.”
Your breath catches in your throat— no, it completely stops. You’re no longer breathing.
“Then do it.”
He gives a breathy chuckle, suddenly spinning you around, a hand knotting in your hair and shoving your cheek against the wall. And then he leans down, presses his lips against your ear, and…
“No. You’d like that too much.”
You whine, straining against his grip on you. Kento is usually ever the gentleman, the perfect white picket fence husband. He brings you roses each Friday and a piece of your favorite cake every Tuesday, and fucks the shit out of you each day when he returns from missions. But he’s so… polite, all the time, his touch gentle and his voice soft. He’s the type to rest his hand on your thigh while he drives, and carry you bridal style into the house.
But this Kento… This Kento is the reason you’re trying to piss him off. Because you unlocked the manhandling, relentless Kento once, and now can’t get enough of it.
Suddenly, the hand on your neck drops down, down, down to your thighs, and then up under your skirt. Kento’s fingers ghost over your bare pussy, straight up laughing when he realizes you’re wearing no underwear. But the laughter is harsh, and sends shivers down your spine.
“You really planned this, didn’t you dear.” It’s more of a statement than a question.
“Can you blame me?” You murmur, trying to grind down on his hand, the hand which is now cupping your dripping cunt, the heel of his hand juuuust below your clit. “Please.”
“We’re almost on our floor,” Kento suddenly releases you, fixing your dress with a soft touch and taking two steps back.
You open your mouth to complain, but right on cue, the elevator doors slide open. Kento presses a hand against the small of your back, forcibly guiding you out of the elevator, and across the plaza, out to the main doors.
Where it’s pouring.
You pause outside the glass doors, crossing your arms across your chest. “No. It’s pouring.”
Kento sighs, but looks you over, and realizes it at the same moment as you do; you’re wearing white.
And Kento is a gentleman.
“I’ll bring the car around. You stay right here, you understand me?”
You nod, and he’s out the doors in an instant.
You find yourself shifting on your feet as you wait, your heels really starting to do a number on you. You keep fixing your dress, trying to ignore how you’re wetter than the rain outside.
Your feet have not moved an inch when your familiar white BMW M8 pulls up to the doors, and your husband gets out of the driver's seat, umbrella in hand.
And he is soaking wet.
His blue shirt sticks to his chest, not hiding any of the rippling muscle along his entire torso. He’s discarded his gray suit jacket, but the pants have darkened a shade due to the rain. His hair sticks to his face, blond locks drenched.
You can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks when you realize how close you are to being able to make out his dick print, and that only worsens when he walks through those doors, headed straight for you.
“I didn’t move,” you murmur as he takes your arm, gripping your bicep tightly and heading for the exit once more.
“That earns you no brownie points tonight.”
Kento opens the umbrella as he drags you outside, holding it over your head. Not a drop of water hits you as he escorts you to the car, and then opens the door to the back seat.
You raise a brow. “Backseat?”
“So you can’t touch me,” he replies, and then promptly sweeps your feet out from under you, catches you, and tosses you into the back seat.
You yelp as your back hits the leather, and the door is closed immediately. Kento is in the driver’s seat before you can blink, staring at you in the rear view mirror.
You buckle yourself up, and he seems satisfied, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot at a speed that’s probably too fast.
You chew your bottom lip, watching his hair drip onto his face, watching his hands white-knuckle the steering wheel, watching his foot press the accelerator.
“You’ll catch a cold,” you murmur, leaning forward and running a hand over his hair, trying to squeeze some of the water out.
His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your fingers away from his head. “No touching.”
You pout, unbuckling yourself and scooting forward, pressing your face against his neck. “Kentoooo…”
You feel the change in his demeanor immediately. He tenses, and reaches back to grip your hair, yanking your head away from him.
“That’s it,” he hisses, and pulls the car into an empty parking lot, putting it in park.
He’s out of the driver’s seat instantly, coming around to the back, and climbing into the back seat.
You have to fight back your victorious grin, but he doesn’t have the same plans as you do, because he grabs you, and pulls you out of the car and into the rain.
“Kento—”
His mouth crashes into yours, and he grabs your chin tightly, his other hand holding your waist to his. You whimper into his mouth, trying to ignore the cold rainwater that’s certainly making your white dress translucent.
He pulls away just when you begin to shiver, then drags you around the car, putting you into the passenger seat and slamming the door. He appears back in the driver’s seat in an instant, his jaw once again set and eyes cold as ice.
“What happened to the no touching rule?” You grin, kicking off your heels.
“Better idea.”
He pulls back onto the road, eyes staying on the path ahead, all while his hand starts to make its way under your skirt.
You realize what he’s doing just as a finger plunges into you, sliding easily with your wetness. You groan loudly, whimpering as his thumb grazes your clit.
He slides in a second finger, and starts pulling them out and pushing them back in, all while stimulating your clit.
It hardly takes any time at all for you to be whimpering and grinding against his hand, gripping the door for support and leverage.
With a few more strokes and swipes of his thumb, that coil in your abdomen begins to tighten, your cunt clenching around his fingers. “Ah— oh, shit…”
Kento withdraws his hand, and you open your mouth to protest, then realize he’s pulled the car into your garage, and is putting it in park.
And he presses the garage door closing button.
And then waits, both hands on the steering wheel, as the garage door closes.
The second that the concrete meets the door, Kento turns his head to look at you, all needy and desperate with pleas begging to escape your lips.
“You really want me to be rough with you?” he asks, his brows stitched together in concern.
“Wherever would you have gotten that impression?” you drone, raising a brow sarcastically. “I want to get the ever-loving shit fucked out of me.”
“You want to be hurt?”
“A little. I liked last time,” you murmur, allowing your mind to slip back a little bit, back to that night that had left you both bruised and begging for more.
“There are better ways to go about this than pissing me off,” your husband narrows his eyes, jaw clenching.
“This is the authentic way.”
“You’re spoiled, you know that?”
“You’re hard as fuck, you feel that?” your eyes flick to the bulge under his pants zipper.
That’s enough to send Kento flying out of the car, and before you know it, he’s opening your door, dragging you out by your bicep.
You yelp, stumbling forward as his grip on you — which is covered in your slick — remains firm. He pulls you into the house, and your back is pressed against a wall immediately, his mouth on yours, hand around your throat.
Kento pulls you up the wall, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your aching cunt against his shirt. He roots his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to be a bit painful.
Clearly he’s done waiting, because his dick is out within seconds, and he’s pulling up your dress. You whimper once the fabric is bunched up around your waist, gripping his shoulders.
“Please…”
“You think that’s enough?” he scoffs, tugging your hair and tilting your head back. “You flirt with another man, nearly let him touch you, act like a brat, and you expect me to just give it to you?” Nevertheless, he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the slightest bit of pressure.
“Fuck—” you whine, groaning softly. The hand holding you up digs into your skin. “I’ll be good— jesus, please. I need you.”
Kento slaps your ass, and then thrusts nearly his entire thick length in at once, causing you to cry out, tears coming to your eyes. He immediately starts a bruising pace, fucking you into the wall so god damn hard that a picture frame nearby rattles.
You whimper as his cock reaches that sweet spot once— and then again, and again, until you’re matching each thrust with a tilt of your hips and a moan.
“Fuck— there you go, baby,” he grits out, yanking on your hair. “Take it all.”
That familiar cool begins to tighten, your abdomen tensing as he picks up his pace even more, and you wonder how it’s possible — untll you look down and realize he’s using the tiniest bit of cursed energy to fuck the actual shit out of you.
“Cum for me, come on. You wanted this so bad, so cum on my dick.”
And that’s enough to send you tumbling over the edge, stars flooding your vision and a long string of curses leaving your lips like a prayer.
His thrusts grow a little sloppier, and he spills himself into you with a hiss, leaving little nips along your jawline.
“I’m not close to being done with you, just as a fair warning,” he growls, and then tosses you over his shoulder.
At this point, you’re half dead.
But also half alive, kept awake by Kento’s hands rubbing circles along your skin, the bubbly bath water tickling your breasts.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to a bruise on your shoulder.
You give a half-babbled response, leaning into his warmth more.
“Full sentences, please.”
“Mm.. I love you,” you manage, turning to face him. You press your face into his neck and inhale his scent.
“I love you too.”
A long pause comes, with Kento just rubbing circles into your bruised sides. Then, he speaks.
“Now, what did we learn?”
“That pissing off the husband results in mind-blowing sex.”
He draws a sharp breath in, and smacks your shoulder gently. “No, no. We learned that we don’t have to piss the husband off, we just have to use our words and plan a date for these things.”
“That’s not very authentic.”
“Do I have a shot at winning this?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Alright.”
#nanami kento#jjk nanami#nanami x reader#jujutsu nanami#nanami x wife!reader#smut#jjk smut#nanami smut#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami#f!reader#second person#cassiefromhell
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Favouritism- Batman: Wayne family adventures
Paring(s): Batfam x child! Reader, Bruce Wayne x daughter! Reader
Warning(s): none
Genre: fluff, kinda funny
Word bank: Y/N- your name
Notes: I think I may start a mini batfam x child reader series 🤔
It was an average day for the batfamily. Bruce was sitting om his brown chair in the living roomreading the newspaper. He saw Dick come in with a large box. Bruce looked up from his newspaper, "Hey, Dick. What's with the box?"
Dick smiled and turned to Bruce. "There was this huge sale of justice league memorabilia yesterday. So I picked up stuff for everyone!"
"That was nice of you"
"It was no big deal" Dick waved goodbye and headed out of the living room. "I'll catch you later B!" As he turned around, Bruce saw the superman logo on the back of his blue hoodie. Bruce looked back at his newspaper, "Superman. Figures"
As dick turned the corner, he saw Y/N pass by with a children's book in her arms. "Morning Mini B!"
"Morning Dickie"
Y/N looked up curiously at the box in his arms. "Dickie what's with the box?" She asked. Dick kneeled down to Y/N'S height and placed the box down so she could she inside. "A bunch of justice league memorabilia"
"Memoa?"
"Memorabilia! It's a bunch of cool stuff dedicated ro the justice league. Check it out" he put his hand in the box and pulled out an object. "See, this one is the flash!" It was a bright red boomerang with the flahs logo on it.
"Here. I'll let you take first pick" Y/N looked down into the box and moved her arms around. "I'll take this one" She pulled out a doll and rubbed her finger over its white eyes. Dick let out a annoyed huff. "Are you okay Dickie?"
"Yea, I'm fine. I'm gonna give the rest ro the others, bye baby bird!" He made a peace sign with his free hand as he picked up the box with his other.
"Bye"
~timeskip~
Jason headed up ro the Manor and passed by Y/N in the living room. She was laying on the floor with a white pillow under her elbows (courtesy of Alferd) drawing on a sheet of paper with her coloured pencils. "Hey baby sis, got this for you!" He put a wonder women crown on her head. It was too big for her, so it fell down onto her face, covering her eyes.
She let out a giggle. "Jay Jay I can't see!" She took the crown off and put it in front of her. Jason crouched down next to Y/N. "What'cha got there?"
"I'm colouring"
Jason looked down at the drawing, his finger places under his chin, as if he was inspecting it. It was crude drawing of a man standing in a garden holding hands with a little girl. "Nice. Very nice" he pointed at the person in her drawing. "You know I have a white streaked in my hair right?"
"I know. I'm drawing daddy"
Jason slumped backwards and pouted. He then turned his attention towards the object Y/N picked from Dick's box. "I thought I was her favourite" he mumbled.
"Huh?"
"It's nothing. So how about you squeeze me in there?" He grabbed a red coloured pencil and pretend to draw on the paper.
Y/N started pushing him away and giggled "Jay, I'll draw you later"
~timeskip~
The next day, Bruce walked down to the batcave holding case flies. "Trust me Duke. The tech stuff is just important as the punching stuff when it comes to being a vigilante" Bruce looked over at Barbara and Duke, who were conversing. "Besides, I can do things as Oracle that I could never as batgirl"
Bruce looked down at Duke's new sneakers. They were red with the flash symbol on the right side. "Hmph" he felt his hands tighten into fits as he hunched over. Barbara and Duke overheard the noise and turned to Bruce. "Everything okay?" Bruce, still looking down at the crumbled papers in his hands and muttered, "Fine, it's all fine"
~timeskip~
It was dinner time and Bruce finally lost it. Stephanie was sitting across him, slurping loudly out of her green arrow water bottle. Bruce slammed his fits on the dinning table. "GREEN ARROW, STEPHANIE! REALLY?!"
"What? He's cool! He's a Justice league member who fights crime without any powers. Game recognises game" She flaunted her cup. "But I do that!"
"Yea, but do you use a bow? Are you blonde? I don't think so" Bruce covered his face, he had enough.
~timeskip~
At the watchtower, the justice league were having their usual meeting. Superman sat down next to green arrow and whispered in his ear. "Does batman look grumpier than usual today?"
He turned to Batman who was sulking in his seat. Wonder women and flash looking on both his sides concerned. "Seems normal to me"
~timeskip~
After a hellish week, Bruce slumped in his study's chair. His ego batter and bruised. From the corner of his eye, he could see Y/N peaking her head through the study's entrance. "Y/N" He jumped and sat up straight. He gave a twitching smile. She looked concerned. "Daddy? Are you okay?"
"I-I'm fine. Daddy's just tired"
She moved to the front of the study and fumbled with the helm of her dress. "Can I come in?"
"Of course you can" She walked over ro his chair. Bruce lifted her up and places her on his lap. He smiled contently. That's when he noticed she was holding something. The item she was carrying the whole time. It was a batman doll. His eyes widened in surprise. "What's in your hands sweetie?"
"Dickie brought over the memor- memora-... stuff from the justice league" He laughed at her attempt to say memorabilia. "And I picked this"
"Is batman your favourite superhero?" He asked genuinely. She answered quickly, "Yep"
"And why is that?"
"Cause he's you daddy! And your my number one hero" She gave her father a toothy smile. He felt his eyes welling up with tears but he blinked them away and pulled his daughter into a tight hug. "I love you so much Y/N"
Y/N hugged him back just as tight. "I love you too daddy"
#batfam#fypツ#dick grayson#x sister reader#x child reader#jason todd#bruce wayne#dick grayson x reader#bruce wayne x child reader#x daught reader#fluff#batfam x reader
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