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gremlingottoosilly · 4 months

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Nature vs Nurture (monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

The new world order - monsters on top, creating the perfect dystopia for humans. You are nothing but a pet to them, a breeding mare for their perverse desires…and now you've finally been claimed by their colonel. Good luck.

Tags and TW: Dub-con, monster fucking, size kink, power imbalance, dumbification, pet play, dystopia, obsessive Konig, tentacle monster Konig, oviposition, breeding. AO3

It was supposed to be a supply run. Fast, quick, stealthy. In and out, the ruins of the abandoned store not so far from your hiding spot. Whatever you could find, some canned food – maybe, but not realistically. Some rubble and garbage that could be exchanged for food for triple the price it was – possible. Realistic.

It was supposed to be a quick supply run. Like a rabbit out of her hole – but not really a rabbit, not even having the courtesy of strong legs and long ears that could spot anyone from a mile away. No, of course not – the universe wasn’t feeling particularly merciful when you were born a human in the age before monsters decided they didn’t want to be servants anymore. You think you remember going to the store like a normal person. Picking up a cart, hauling anything you could afford – not bothering about a lot of things.

There are still stores, you think. Remesances of capitalism, working only for monsters – whatever crude economy they were building, it stayed in the cities. In the military bases, were filled with monsters even before the uprising. Not here, in the wasteland – it belongs to humans, as little as there were left.

It was supposed to be a quick supply run for you and your friends – but you were dumb, but you were careless, but you grew accustomed to being the only one here, you didn’t even spot a patrol. Nasty fuckers, getting humans off the abandoned streets – you tried to fight and it didn’t work. Tried to run, and they were faster. Always faster. You should have been quicker, you shouldn’t have been a human – but you are, your soft self still not hardened by the life on the run, so you weren’t put out of your misery as you saw some other humans who got caught. Monsters took pity on you – or, perhaps, your submissiveness finally paid off. You were shown off the corner of a store – a human store, as you read, the words burning in your mind. You heard the stories about humans – attractive, soft people, mostly weak and obedient – who were snatched off the streets to do god knows what. Monsters can’t breed on their own, you remembered.

You can hear the voices coming somewhere in the hallway, a good few meters away from your cage. You force yourself to stay as far from the bars as possible, not wanting to attract attention. Not even want to bother yourself with trying to see what your captors look like – monsters can take on human appearance and you’d rather live without seeing a human pet trader looking like someone who could have been your neighbor before the uprising. You curl in a ball, hugging your knees. Sobbing softly, quietly – knowing that there is no way out of here now. Not even other humans would help you now. “Just got new batch, colonel. Doesn’t look like a resistance member” “Ja, I heard that the last time. Schlampe killed all the hatchlings the second they were born.” “W…we didn’t know, sir! I promise, it was a…” “You can’t even breed them properly. There wasn’t any new humans in months, wolf” “Humans are…delicate, sir. They don’t want to breed in captivity.” “Make them then.” You hear something heavy shuffling around. You hear heavy footsteps that are making the flimsy flor of your cage shake. Even monsters have their disputes – but you can’t bother with caring when you hear footsteps approaching. Large shadow casting down on you. Making you feel even more small and miserable than you did before. Your head hurts. Your stomach hurts. Your everything hurts.

Someone is staring at you. You see…someone. Humanoid silhouette – too big to belong to a human, at least 7 feet tall and broader than the entirety of your cage. You whimper when the creature tilts its head to the side, a surprisingly boyish tone of his voice grasping on your panicking mind. It isn’t the one that captured you but, for some reason, you can sense that he is even more dangerous. There is something on his uniform – some decorations, you think. Soldiers from the age before the uprising are all have quite high ranks in the new society – if they are monsters, that is. Large, droopy red tentacle falls from the guy’s hood. Definitely a monster.

— Come closer, human. You whimper, trying to get up – only to get as far away from him as possible. You’re terrified, but he only hums in acknowledgment. A group of tentacles rising from under his hood, pushing you towards him through the bars. You were never more thankful for being locked away.

— Disobedient. Or just dumb?

— I d…don’t…

You cry, not wanting to give an answer – too disoriented, your nostrils are filled with the smell of sea and blood. You feel light-headed, dizzy, you’re hungry and dehydrated and you don’t know how could you even proceed to resist when one of his tentacles goes through the bars of your cage. Caresses your face, surprisingly gentle. Smearing cold slime around your skin, but even this is a welcoming feeling – you’d take everything that isn’t damp air of the human compound and the old sweat tattering your skin. You’d give anything for a bath right now. At least a few wet wipes, to wash the grime off your face – to stop feeling like an animal even though you know you’re already been reduced to one. — Just dumb, then. Gut. Monster caresses your face for a while, admiring your features. Salty tears feel like heaven on his tentacles – you can’t possibly see him, but he is grinning under that weird hood of his, adoring how obedient you are. It might be just exhaustion, but he missed humans like this – broken and abandoned. Soft and adorable, crying at the brim of a hat. König is going to have a lot of fun breaking you in – you couldn’t possibly be worse than the last wife he took. He wants to see you round and filled with his eggs. He wants you to see you cry for his cock, begging him to fill you up like the dumb, pathetic human you are. He wants to lay in the nest with you, pressing his body against yours – stealing the coolness of your body, covering you with his tentacles like a perfect chewing toy. He wants to… — Ah, sir. This is the new one. Just took her yesterday.

A merchant smiles, slimy face spreading in a wide grin. Tentacles retreat from your face and shoulders immediately, only leaving a small trace of liquid over your features. If you were dumb enough, you could have sworn the monster was affectionate – but you don’t want to be dumb. Can’t survive in this world only on silliness, unfortunately. — I will take this one. — B…but it isn’t properly domesticated yet! You know how wild strays can be, colonel… — I thought you said all pets were properly obedient?

— W…well, of course, sir, but… — I don’t need a trained slut to carry my eggs. This one would do nicely. Consider this your sacrifice to the order, ja? Before you know it, the merchant showed you in the hands of a giant man. Colonel, as you heard – not knowing proper military ranks, you wonder how high it can be. Or low. Monsters only value power and personal strength – and the merchant was fucking terrified of the tentacle creature who was holding you right now. Perhaps, you should have tried your chances of running away and being killed. Perhaps, you should have slowly died of hunger instead of coming out for supplies. `You’re held high in the air – too high for your liking. The monster presses you against his chest like he expects you to run away any second now – and you want to, really, nothing you’d love more but to simply jump off and run for the hills. But you’re too exhausted, the hunger sitting deep in your empty stomach makes you think that, maybe, for whatever reason this monster bought you for, he’d at least feed you. Maybe turn you into a pet – this is why there are stores for captured humans, right? Humans were treating their pets nicely, maybe the monster wouldn’t be too far off. Tentacles are swirling around your legs, around your hands – now you can’t even move your neck properly, cheek squished against a warm chest. This monster is a weird one – it’s like he can’t stop his tentacles from touching you, the cold tips of his tendrils spreading slime on the dryness of your skin. His body is warmer than any human would be, and his tentacles are cold – the contrast against your naked skin, barely covered by your torn clothes, is making you crazy. Making you think about weird things – like the monster reproduction again. Like your empty tummy, like the friends you left at the compound when you were supposed to go for supplies. Not getting captured by one of the monster higher-ups.

— You’re soft for a human. You weren’t even sure he was talking to you at first. You’ve been walking for a couple of minutes before you could finally hear some traces of civilization. Roaring vehicles. Gunfire. Laugh and groans – moans, too, to your surprise, not all of them very pain-induced. Your face is still pressed in his chest, you can’t see anything meaningful – but he stops in some corner, you think, covering you in his arms like a package he needed to deliver. You aren’t sure if you remember what the word “package” means. Something naughty, you think. — Quiet, too.

You still don’t answer, and he hums. Pushes you on the ground, suddenly – you fall on your ass, yelping in pain and surprise as you lay on something softer than a concrete floor. It’s a pile of mattresses, you realize. You’re in a room, you realize – still too dizzy after everything that’s happened, you didn’t even notice when he entered the building and pushed you away from the sounds of life you wanted to hear so much of. You’re sitting on your ass on the pile of soft, rotten mattresses – a faint smell of decay builds up in your nose, but you can’t even concentrate. The tentacles are spreading your legs suddenly – you cry and whimper, your walls breaking down to reveal a soft center because the monster tears away your pants with ease. Your clothes weren’t much, to begin with, dirty and torn after the capture – still, you don’t want to be naked in front of him. You don’t want to be naked in front of anyone.

— Spread your legs, human. You don’t want to, but you obey – you don’t wish to give him an opportunity to pry your legs open, to use force and make your life even more miserable. You know that being so obedient is kind of pathetic but, honestly, you couldn’t care less at this point. If being pathetic would save you from a broken leg, you will spread yourself open. Place each ankle on the side of the rotten mattress, not even caring that the thing fabric of your clothes – whatever little is left there – is slowly whiskered away by the tentacles. His hands are worse, somehow. He pushes your legs a bit wider, making you hiss from the stretch – and then he tears off your underwear. Not even letting you a chance to save your dignity – before you could cover yourself with your hands, at least, he is already launched at your cunt, smaller tendrils swirling around your core. You’re dry, obviously – and the monster tilts his head to the side. Acknowledging. Looking. He isn’t soft in his movements and the prying attention makes you embarrassed – if your legs weren’t in hid hold already, you’d try to close them. To save yourself. His motives are obvious, his intentions are clear – still, you sob and whine i his hold when his hand slowly presses on the button of your clit. The colonel – you try to remember this, it’s probably important – is somewhat slow – he pushes your inner lips, spreads your hole as much as you can with a meager amount of fluid from the slime of his tendrils and, somehow, you find yourself getting aroused. Maybe, it’s his attention – he isn’t laying his eyes off you, and it almost makes you blush too much. He is adorable in this way if a monster of his regard can even be called this – and you’re freaking terrified when he goes closer, looks at you even more.

His hand is making squelching sounds as your cunt becomes wetter by the second – it’s the first time in forever you had this kind of attention, and surviving the monster revolution didn’t exactly help with getting the edge off. You’re desperate for anyone to touch you – and the monster has beautiful hands. Big and burly, with tendrils sometimes running around to add even more lube – you know you’d never get anything like this with a normal human. — Need to check you first, Maus. The merchant keeps sending me infertile ones. You don’t know what he is talking about – but his hand lays flat on your tummy, putting you in place, and the larger tentacle – big, slimy one, with uneven structure with little bumps that made you wonder how it’s even going to fit inside – slowly creps to your sloppy, wet opening. It doesn’t hurt, you’re wet and open – something in the lube he extracted made you dizzy, dumb, you don’t even know when you spread your legs a bit more and welcomed the intrusion. It feels right, it feels wrong, it feels like the thing to die for – it feels like something that could kill you. He laughs and it sends slow rumbles right to the tendril penetrating your pussy. The pressure on your clit is too much – and your brain is to foggy to think that it reminds you more of a medical exam than actual sex. The tentacle inside is vibrating, twisting and turning, pressing on your cervix – it should feel painful, it can’t be this good but, somehow, you welcome the feeling of being this fucking full. You don’t buck your hips, but you cry and moan – and it’s enough of an indication of your pleasure. Monster laughs, his other hand goes to lay on your face – a surprisingly gentle gesture. Short-lived, but you could still feel the warmness lingering on your tattered skin. It’s hot and cold with him – you aren’t sure what comes next, but the tendrils are sliding in and out, probing at the entrance of your womb and, despite everything, you feel the knot in your stomach untying. The orgasm is a quiet one – build up is slow and small, and it doesn’t make you black out – but you whimper nonetheless, the tight embrace of his hands on your body feeling more like a cage than a normal hug. He is too powerful, probably not sure about his strength – you feel him squishing you like a fruit. The slime is leaking from your empty pussy, clenching around nothing. — Obedient. You’d be a good vessel for my eggs, human. You whine, turning away from him. He chuckles, pressing you in his arms again. Like a child with his favorite new toy – you feel squeezed and touched in various places, his tentacles having a mind on their own. Not an inch of flesh getting ungroped. — Ar…are you going to kill me? — Ach. You can talk after all. — Are you going to… — No. Have a much better way to use you. He chuckles in your hair, pressing his face in it. Inhales the scent – if he has nose, of course. This stupid hood conceals everything, not letting you know anything besides his rank. Which makes you think about…

— What is your name?

A stupid question, really. You shouldn’t care about the name of a monster who bought you – still, you don’t want to refer to him as just “a monster”. This dumb part of your brain wants closure. — König. Remember it, little human. Oh. So his name is König. Somehow, it doesn’t make you feel any better.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #monster!konig #yandere cod #tw: monster fucking #cod x you #yandere imagines #male yandere #yandere male #yandere

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runawaycarouselhorse · 1 year

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What made both her sacrifice for her team mates’ happiness in Pocket Monsters (2019)/Pokemon Journeys episode 95 and the fact that she thought this would be her end more poignant for me is that being completely alone is what Musashi hates the most. She lost her (single) mother as a child and was never adopted, going from foster home to foster home... ;_;

After many failures (like being unable to graduate from a school meant to train literal Pokemon Nurses, because she couldn’t do what Chansey do, despite studying hard and being adept at skills like bandaging…) and having her heart broken and being disappointed (she let a boy she loved go alone so she can pursue idol dreams with some friends, who all made it… without her, so she lost a possible love for an impossible dream)…

She couldn’t bond with her partners and left them to be injured, just to save herself, during her training days at Team Rocket. She’d become selfish and self-preserving… in the Japanese version, the others called her “shinigami Musashi” according to Yamato (Cassidy), likening her to a reaper of souls… but James refused to run away, sick of living a life where he ran away from all his problems. He’d sacrifice himself for her and Meowth’s safety, getting badly injured and nearly missing their final exam, hospitalized. The first time they uttered the beginning of their motto was when she believed she was all alone again, much like in this scene… the Rockets in the Japanese version repeat the last thing someone else says as if to answer a question (the “nanda kanda to kikare tara” = “if you ask us about this or that” is mostly filler that could be substituted with anything else.)

Musashi (Jessie): (dejectedly, as she walks away alone as the final exam begins, even being questioned by Nyasu/Meowth where she’s going): Is this all that there is…?

Kojiro (James): (answering while leaning posed against a tree, covered in bandages, but they were only wrapped over his clothes so he could whip them off dramatically) If you ask us 'if this is all that there is,' our answer will be the universe’s compassion!

She’s so moved, she turns away to wipe her tears. “A team mate who won’t run away…”

I think that’s the first time they ever see her cry.

Jessie desperately wants family, belonging, that’s why she falls in love so quickly, she wants a family more than anything—James had everything material growing up, but not love… Musashi had near to nothing material growing up, BUT she had her mother’s love… until she lost her very, very early. They contrast each other! They’re soul mates, eternal partners, whether you ship them or not. Meowth, too, was orphaned as a kitten, never even named, and an outcast his whole life. He's also always falling in love easily, seeking a home... the trio should never be separated, they are each other’s sought-for home.

I think the falling snow in this scene, where she runs off in tears, after wearing a brave smile and telling James it’s okay to stay with Cassidy, is a very deliberate choice, as Jessie loves snow. One of her few happy memories of her depressing childhood is being made treats made of snow to eat. She unknowingly lost her mother in the snowy Andes mountains, seeking Mew, put into foster care, while Miyamoto tried to make money to give her a better life... glittering snow and sparkling tears…

For Meowth too, she lets him go. She just wants everyone to have their chance at love.

So, her believing she’ll end up dying alone, as she’s always feared, Musashi here laments her luck, but also has a beautiful little dream of her friends saving her.

Once again, similarly to the break-up episode of DP, she was the one who calmly and gently encouraged James to pursue a possible love. She also broke Dustox’s pokeball, in tears, not wanting her to make the same mistake she did, giving up on an attainable love for an unattainable goal (and, indeed, Jessie did not win the Grand Festival, despite her skill at Pokemon Contests… she made the right decision for Dustox’s happiness.)

Jessie loves her friends. Sure, she’s caustic, rude, temperamental, bitter, and self-absorbed, but she prioritizes love and their happiness. She doesn’t want them to be alone and abandoned the way she felt as a kid. She loves them so much so, she’s satisfied to die alone and suffer her worst fear if it meant they get to be happy. That’s self-sacrifice.

She doesn’t resent them one bit, saying it’s a nice dream when she thinks she’s imagined them saving her life… she thought it was her mind comforting her before her death, accepting her fate, rather than realizing it’s effectively a premonition of what will be reality… and when she realizes?! She initially reproaches them, looking mad, because she thought they abandoned their happiness for her! But no, things didn’t work out… this is where they’re meant to be: by each other’s side.

James also knows how much marriage means to her, even though he’s so traumatized by it, the word “fiance” triggers literal flashbacks for him and he climbed up a tree to get away from a teenaged girl who called him that. Yet, in XY episode 63, where she fell for Dr. White...

Kojiro: (with head down, eyes shadowed) If Musashi (Jessie) wants to pursue her happiness as a woman, shouldn't we give her our blessing?

Nyasu also had his misfortunes in love... they sympathize and empathize.

"Let's show her we're men and leave without saying anything..."

As Kojiro runs away, he sheds tears, wishing her happiness and bidding her farewell, silently. The scenes in these two episodes are clear parallels.

But in the end (including the final episodes, as rushed as that plotline was although I still loved Wobbuffet acting exactly like a troubled child of parents going through a messy divorce), they’ll always realize their happiness is by each other’s side as a trio.

"Sometimes you get good pulls, sometimes you get bad ones. Sometimes they're good, even if you think they're bad. Sometimes they're bad, even if you think they're good."

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twogyuu · 10 months

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reverse uno

Pairing: Jeonghan x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, dad!jeonghan, mom!reader, uncle!wonwoo

Warnings: profanity, some jealousy (but it's just out of funniness), jeonghan long hair slander, unedited

WC: ~1.5k

A/N: For shits and giggles. I also miss Jeonghan.

Spin-off from Wonwoo's Tasty Cereal (and Milk). Would reccomend reading this one first to have context for this one 😅

. . . .

Jeonghan was seething.

Never in a hundred years did he think he’d be jealous of Jeon Wonwoo.

Jeonghan has known the young man for the better half of his twenties from university. They were different as night and day, but Jeonghan never saw anything wrong with that. The two men had their unique qualities. Also, he adored Wonwoo – truly. A quiet fella with well-founded values and a kind heart, it was for those very reasons he could never really, what youth called, “rizz up” a girl despite all the heart eyes sent his way. The man had game; he just didn’t know how to use it.

Heck, with Wonwoo’s current girlfriend, it took the effort of two armies and Lee Jihoon to get the frustrating oblivious pair together.

It truly had to be a sick joke for Jeonghan to be standing in the middle of a kid’s backyard birthday party and bear witness to his four-year-old daughter falling head over heels for the four-eyed man.

Atop a blue-and-white checkered blanket, Nina was seated on Wonwoo’s lap, his hand wrapped protectively over her waist to keep her from falling off, a picture book opened in front of them as he pointed at the illustrations of a Siamese cat dressed in a cape, leaping off a boat.

She was whipped.

His little girl, adorned with his big brown eyes – it was blasphemous.

Nina laughed girlishly and clapped her hand out of joy as Wonwoo read one of the character’s lines in a low voice, mimicking that of a monster.

Jeonghan has definitely reenacted scenes from some of her favorite storybooks way better than that. His impression of Amelia Bedelia could earn him an Oscar!

“Why are you clenching your fists so tight?”

Jeonghan turned in the direction of the familiar sound of your voice. Your presence brought him some sense of comfort. At least he’d never lose you to Wonwoo.

Jeonghan let out a defeated sigh, walking over to your side and snaking his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side. His eyes were still trained on his little girl, though he could feel your fingers grazing across the side of his face as you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

Your eyes flickered from his hardened expression to Wonwoo and Nina, and then back.

“What’s so great about him anyways?” Jeonghan asked.

“Wonwoo?” you double-checked.

“I mean, he’s not that great, you know?” Jeonghan pressed on, “I’m a cool dad! I let her eat ice cream for breakfast yesterday morning!”

“You what?”

Oops.

Jeonghan shook his head, pretending he didn’t spill his daughter’s biggest secret. He scoffed dramatically, “This is ridiculous – she shouldn’t be acting so lovesick! She’s only four!”

You made a mental note to circle back to the ice cream for breakfast, but decided to address the matters of your husband’s current distress.

“Maybe Wonwoo’s just good with kids,” you suggested, “He’s a teacher after all.”

“A math teacher,” Jeonghan scorned, “For eighth graders.”

“Honey, I think you’re overthinking this,” you tried to soothe him, doing your damn best to suppress your giggles. You hadn’t seen him this worked up in a while. He was always protective of Nina, but this was . . . something else.

“He babysat her once and now she goes around eating cereal and milk separately, begs to watch Sailor Moon on Saturday mornings, and asks about ‘Uncle Woo’ more than she asks about you – like, this isn’t normal!”

A light bulb goes off in your mind.

“Maybe,” you turned towards him to face him full front. Naturally, his hands settle on your waist. You reach over and smooth a strand of hair on the other side of his face, your fingers playing with the ends of the overgrown, long strands brushing across his jawline. “She likes his haircut.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jeonghan rolled his eyes.

You shrug playfully. “Hey – Wonwoo is a handsome man and maybe, she’s like me: knows one when she sees one.”

“And what does that have to do with his hair?” Jeonghan asked.

“Haircuts make a huge difference in someone’s appearance,” you peer over Jeonghan’s shoulder, throwing Wonwoo and Nina a glance. They seemed to have caught your gaze, both waving happily in your direction. A smile spread across your face, turning back to Jeonghan. “His new haircut looks nice.”

Jeonghan cocked an eyebrow at you. “Are you suggesting something here?”

You pull away, his hands slipping off your hips. “Nothing I haven’t said to you before.”

Because that was the truth.

Despite his best friend’s insistence, you were not a fan of that mane that your husband has grown out and you had voiced your opinion more than once.

You extended a hand to Jeonghan and asked sweetly, “Cake?”

“But Nina–”

“Relax,” you reassured him, pulling him after you, “Wonwoo’s a good babysitter – it’s just a little crush. Let them be and let’s spend a little time to ourselves?”

. . . .

“Sweetheart,” Jeonghan called from afar.

Nina looked up from her drawing, the blue crayon in her chubby hands stopped moving at her dad’s voice. Her favorite cup, a white and green coffee mug with baby Yoda’s decorating the exterior, was clasped in one hand as he leaned against the entrance of the kitchen.

“Yes, daddy?” she replied.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jeonghan asked softly.

That was a strange phrase. Usually, she asked her dad questions – not the other way around. Unsure how to answer, she stayed quiet and stared at him wide-eyed.

“Do you . . . perhaps like Uncle Wonwoo’s haircut?” he asked slowly.

Nina only stared back blankly at Jeonghan. She blinked, processing her dad’s strange and cryptic words. She knew about Uncle Wonwoo and she knew what a haircut was – her mom took her for one last month. She had sat in a chair shaped like a blue race car.

“Do you think Uncle Wonwoo is handsome?” Jeonghan tried rephrasing his question. He shoved a hand, uncomfortably, into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Handsome,” Nina said quietly, “Like . . . how Cinderella thinks Prince Charming is handsome?”

Jeonghan nodded in encouragement.

“I . . . think so?” Nina replied, confused.

“Oh,” Jeonghan said softly.

Nina frowned, her little heart feeling funny at her dad being disappointed at her answer. “Is something wrong, daddy?”

“No, no,” Jeonghan smiled weakly. “Maybe your mommy was just right.”

As he walked away, Nina noted the way her dad tugged at his little ponytail.

. . . .

“You cut your hair.”

Jeonghan sighed, annoyed as he roughly handed Nina’s night bag over to Wonwoo.

“I did,” Jeonghan replied curtly.

“Why?” Wonwoo asked cautiously, sensing malice in his older friend’s tone.

“Just because,” Jeonghan grumbled. He threw a look over his shoulder to make sure you and his daughter were coming along. You were shutting the door of the RAV4, Nina fast asleep in your arms with her head resting over your shoulder. “It was getting annoying anyways.”

“Interesting . . . I guess,” Wonwoo replied.

At this, Jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened at Jeonghan’s harsh tone. A hand flew to the back of his neck. Nervously, he replied, “I mean . . . you just seemed to be . . . really adamant about growing it out – you and Cheol.”

“Well, my daughter likes boys with short hair like yours,” Jeonghan replied curtly.

“Um,” Wonwoo’s eyes wandered around the living room. “I’m sorry if I’m missing something here, but what do I have to do with your hair?”

Jeonghan inhaled sharply, shaking off all the tension. “It’s nothing –”

“Nina has a crush on you and Jeonghan is bitter because she doesn’t think he’s the coolest anymore,” you announced as you entered behind Jeonghan.

“Y/N!?” Jeonghan exclaimed.

You winked in his direction before settling your daughter onto Wonwoo’s couch, adjusting her head in a comfortable position.

“But I thank you for your service,” you said to Wonwoo. Folding your arms across your chest, you smiled in satisfaction. “I got him to get a haircut.”

“You’re welcome . . .?” Wonwoo asked more than he stated. He was so confused.

“That’s manipulative!” Jeonghan shrieked.

You brought a finger to your lips and to shush him, eyes flickering to your daughter. Nina stirred momentarily in her sleep before settling into the cushion again.

Hooking your arms with his, you dragged your husband away. You remarked, “Manipulative like when you got me to go on that blind date with you?” You waved off Wonwoo. “We’ll be back around 11PM.”

Wonwoo nodded, letting out a sigh of relief.

“That’s different,” Jeonghan whined. He tried pulling his arm away to no avail – you had a strong grip.

“I’ve waited almost a decade for this moment: Consider it pay back.”

“Y/N.”

You pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and patted his arm before rounding the front of the car to get to the passenger side.

“I married a menace,” Jeonghan groaned.

“So did I!”

“A match made in the heavens itself!” Wonwoo called from the door.

The air filled with your laughter.

A menace, but Jeonghan couldn’t deny, he really loved that sound more than anything.

#jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

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floatyflowers · 3 months

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Dark! Percy Jackson Reverse Harem x Reader|| Chapter Four

<<< Chapter Three

You tried to fight them with your hardest, but you barely land hits on any of them.

But the sword is hard for you to handle and your hits are sloppy.

In the end, you got injured.

No, Ares's children didn't harm you, you cut yourself up with the sword by accident.

However, Percy fought them all off and your team won capture the flag.

Annabeth shoved Percy in the water where your doubts were confirmed as Poseidon claimed him as his son.

After the game, Chiron called you over to give you a letter from your mother.

For some reason you were so scared to open it, feeling like your mother was declaring in the letter that she disowns you and doesn't want to see you ever again.

But, it is the opposite of that.

My Sweet Angel,

I apologize for appearing like a coward, but I needed to get you to the camp.

However...I couldn't bring myself to enter the place because it brought bad memories for me.

I hate it, but I know it's necessary for your safety.

And you must understand that I would never be ashamed of you, I'm quiet proud of you.

After all, I was in your position when I was young.

PS. Your stepfather sends you his love and will prepare you all of your favorite food when you return home.

From your beloved mother,

Calista

You let out a happy laugh, finally feeling at ease that you misunderstood the whole situation.

Your mother loves you, but wait...

...She is a demigod.

But what do that make you?

Also who is her godly parent.

You will ask Chiron about it later, he must know who he is.

Suddenly you hear knocking on the front of your cabin door, you go to open it only to see Annabeth.

You smile at her cheerful and shyly but invite her inside.

Once she is inside, you begin apologizing.

"I'm sorry about my performance, I swear I tried my best but-"

She cuts you off.

"No need to worry, you did amazing on your first try"

Your expression brightens up.

"Thank you"

"No problem, girls stick together, am I right?" Annabeth says with a smile.

"Yes...would you like to stay over and chit chat for a bit?"

"Sure!"

And that's how you made a first female best friend in camp.

°°°

"I chose you for the quest, you cannot say no to it"

"Well, the quest is going to fail, did you not see my fighting skill? It's horrible!"

Percy as usual barged into your cabin to inform you of the quest.

"Come on, Grover and Annabeth will be there too, there is nothing to fear"

Your eyes grow big upon hearing the name 'Grover' as a smile appears on your face.

"Grover is here? Is he also a demigod?"

°°°

"You are a Satyr?"

You tilt your head, looking down at the tan skinned boy's legs.

"Yes...weird, I know"

"No, it's not weird at all, actually it is kind of cute" you say.

Grover smiles and blushes but Percy walks between you both, to break the nearness.

"We need to focus on the quest" Percy asserts with jealousy.

"Is that Thalia?" you ask Annabeth as she says goodbye to the tree.

"Yes"

"She’s really gonna miss that tree, huh?"

Percy says sarcastically, looking with envy as you interact with Annabeth, also patting the tree gently, saying something he can't hear.

He doesn't want you to interact with anyone.

If he can lock you up, he will do it.

"When Annabeth first arrived here with Thalia and Luke, they were being chased by monsters. Agents of Hades. Sisters. Furies."

"Mrs. Dodds?" Percy points out.

"Yes! One was our algebra teacher. Alecto. Thalia turned back to fight to buy her friends some time. Her satyr protector tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. So, at the last moment... Zeus intervened to save her life and... changed her form."

"The most powerful being in the universe’s best idea to save his daughter’s life... was to turn her into a tree?"

Percy mocks after his friend finishes explaining as you and Annabeth walk back to them.

"She was the bravest demigod I ever knew. She fought valiantly, and she met a hero’s fate." Annabeth defends.

"She met a pinecone’s fate."

"Percy" you exclaim, piniching his arm.

"What? I'm telling the truth"

You sigh in anger, before turning to Annabeth with a gentle expression and say.

"If I ever meet Zeus, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind"

Grover nods his head slowly at you.

"Yeah, so he can strike you down with lighting bolt"

"Can't strike me down with something he lost"

You say playfully walking ahead of them.

"She is going to get us killed" Annabeth mutter

"And I don't mind dying for her" Percy respond firmly, following after you like a lovesick puppy.

°°°

Calista walks around the house, cleaning every corner and making sure everything is in order.

She developed an OCD, ever since she became pregnant with her only daughter, you.

The demigod woman feared that all her past relationships with the gods might come back and slap her in the face through you.

She would die if something happened to you, that's why she thought it was the best decision to send you to Camp Half-Blood.

While doing house work, the doorbell rings, she walk over to the front door and opens it.

But once she sees who is on the other side, she tries to close it, but the person stops her and shoves his way in.

"This is no good way to greet me, young lady"

"What are you doing here?" Calista demands in fear.

"Well, I came to take you back to the underworld"

Hades answers back with a smirk.

"I'm not going anywhere, my daughter-"

"Don't worry, I sent someone to get her, so we can all become a big happy family"

Chapter Five>>>

#Yandere percy jackson #tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #platonic yandere #Percy Jackson x reader #daughter reader #Grover Underwood x reader #Hades x OC

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13uswntimagines · 4 months

Text

The Come Down (Alessia Russo X MMA fighter!R)

R is a very popular MMA fighter, and Alessia sees the parts of you that other people don't. Shes the one who gets to put you back together again after a tough fight.

Warnings: D/S undertones but no smut.

Author's note: This was super fun to write and i hope you enjoy it. Feel free to hit me up with ideas and comments and stuff.

You sighed, leaning your head against the stone walls of the Emirates tunnel, letting it soothe the twinges that always lingered after a long flight.

It was masochistic, but the ache that lingered the day after a war in the Octagon was always one of your favorite feelings, especially if you won. It helped you to compartmentalize the parts of yourself. It helped you separate the completely in-control fighter, the stone-cold monster that didn’t give a fuck about her opponents, and the human that lingered underneath.

It was hard to punch a man until he was unconscious if you thought about how human he was. If you pictured his family and his life as anything other than an opponent for you to run through. But you never wanted that part of yourself to exist anywhere other than in the cage.

The throb in your muscles and ache in your cuts helped you lock that part of yourself away. It helped you keep your grip on reality in all of the post-fight hormones until you could get to the grounding force that was your girlfriend.

The post-fight come-down was always difficult for you, especially after a 5 round back and forth battle like the one you had just fought.

You loved your job, you really did, but it was so easy to… lose yourself. To get lost in the anger of the UFC universe and the vitriol of your opponents. To get lost in the cycle of Training, listening to a man tell you he was going to destroy you at press conferences, cutting weight and beating the ever-living fuck out of someone while people cheered.

Just being in the same building as Alessia had set you at ease, and watching her score 2 against Chelsea was even better.

But the sound of the crowd had started to set you on edge. The way they erupted when your face, black eye, stitched gash on your cheek curving up to your forehead and all, appeared on the Jumbotron after your girlfriend’s PK had you clenching your teeth. It egged on the thoughts of murdering the keeper that had taken her out swirling in your brain, along with the desire to demolish the player who had so callously stepped on her teammate after a play.

It was why you escaped to the tunnel, to gain some form of control over your thoughts.

Maybe flying out as soon as you had been cleared by the medics wasn’t such a good idea, but you couldn’t stand being away from Alessia any longer than you had to be. You couldn’t stand being away from the comfort, love, and… safety she offered you.

God, you sounded like a psycho.

Or a submissive nearing the end of her rope.

6 weeks apart from your girlfriend was really doing a number on you.

“Ay bruiser, fancy meeting you here,” Katie said, appearing in front of you with a wide smile.

You flashed a toothy grin at the Irishwoman, ignoring the way it pulled at the stitches holding your cheek together. “Maccabe, always a pleasure,”

She caught your arm. “That was one hell of a fight. Thought Less was gonna break my hand during the third round,”

You grimaced.

The third round was the only one your opponent won. He had caught you with a big overhand right, opening the gash on your cheek and knocking you on your ass in the last 15 seconds of the round. The knees he had followed it up with to your side hadn’t been fun either. He had almost finished you, and you knew it had to be hard for the team and your girlfriend to watch.

“My hand dipped when I tried to close the distance,”

It really was a game of inches, and he had certainly taken advantage of your small mistake. It was ok, you had gotten him in the end anyway.

Katie made a sound of agreement, glancing at the tunnel behind you. “Certainly made us all nervous, but I’m happy you took his head off, even if it took you until the last 30 seconds of the fight,”

She made a little kicking movement with her leg like a semi-recreation of the head kick you had used to end the fight.

“Didn’t want to rush it,” You shrugged, nodding to the Arsenal girls as they passed you, unable to help the way you automatically searched each face for your girlfriend.

“Ya missus is still signing for a couple of kids,” She gestured over her shoulder, a knowing smile still playing at her lips. “I can take you to her if you want?”

You shook your head. “I’ll wait here. I’m in no hurry,”

You also didn’t think you could deal with the sounds of the crowd when your head was still pounding, a consequence of taking a flight with a concussion against doctor's orders you supposed, and you ached every time you took a step, every time you inhaled too deeply really.

Katie’s eyes softened when she saw the emotions flit across your features. “Come on, let's go to the locker room instead. It’s away from prying eyes,”

She tugged your hand. You let her lead you deeper into the tunnel and into a room filled with wooden cubbies.

It was nice to let your brain turn off, to just… follow along and allow someone else to lead you.

“Hey champ,” Leah smiled at you as Katie deposited you in what you assumed was Alessia’s locker. “That was one hell of a fight last night,”

“Thanks,” You winked at the defender. “You guys had a fantastic game too,”

“I’m not sure a football match compares to a man trying to punch you in the face,” Steph said, glancing at you from her spot near Lottie.

You made a low sound in the back of your throat, feeling the tightness return to your chest. “But I don’t have people stepping on me after the bell,”

“But you do end up covered in blood,” Kyra chirped. “We don’t have to worry about that usually,”

“Most of the time it’s not mine,” You muttered, leaning further into your girlfriend's locker. Her perfume lingered in the cubby, and you let it soothe the frayed edges of your nerves.

You didn’t want to think about fighting. About the person. The savage. you were in the octagon. You toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt sleeve. It was slightly too long because it really belonged to Alessia. She had given it to you before fight week.

It helped, but it wasn’t her.

It hadn’t been enough after the fight, and it wasn’t enough now.

You didn’t think you could wait much longer, but you didn’t have to.

“The stadium is buzzin,” Alessia said slightly breathlessly, stepping through the locker room door.

You were immediately on your feet, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “Less,”

A grin instantly broke across her face, and she crossed the room in 3 long strides. Her arms wrapped around you, and without thinking you buried your face in her chest.

It made the gash on your cheek sting and the tender skin of your jaw ache, but you didn’t care, pressing yourself as tightly to her as you could. She shifted, her nails running over your back with one hand as the other cupped the back of your neck.

It was gentle, and grounding, and everything that you craved.

“Hey baby girl,” She breathed into your hair, her voice dipping just a little and sending a shudder down your spine.

She was like a ray of sunshine, always warm and sweet. It was why none of the fans would ever speculate about the positions that the two of you held in your relationship. They joked that she was too soft to be a dominant, but the people who understood how your relationship worked could see that her mix of firmness and warmth was exactly what you needed.

She waited for you to pull away first, just enough to meet her eyes. “Hey,”

She leaned in and placed a careful kiss on your lips. “I’ll shower and then we can go, yeah?”

You deflated, your fingers tangling more tightly in her jersey. You didn’t want to let her go, even if it was just for a second.

“You can come with me,” She said, a knowing look in her eyes. “And tell me all about fight week,”

“Ok,” You agreed, only loosening your grip long enough for her to grab her shower bag and change of clothes, before you latched back on, holding the hem of her jersey tightly as she led you towards the showers.

You felt a bit like a child, clinging to her, but she was like a buoy keeping you from drowning in the sea of your rocky emotions, and now that she was close to you, you couldn’t let her go. You were afraid that if you did, you would lose your grip on reality.

The warm, wet air of the shower helped too.

It reminded you of your post-fight routine.

Win or lose you would stand under the hot steam of the stadium, washing off the blood and sweat from the octagon until your coaches pulled you out. It was part of the routine that you had skipped since the docs wanted to stitch your cheek as soon as you were out of eyeshot of the fans.

Then you had felt so… off balance that you raced through a cold shower and hopped on a plane to get to your girlfriend as quickly as possible. You didn’t even stay for the post-fight press conference.

“Come on love,” She said, pulling you into one of the stalls, sliding the first curtain shut behind the two of you, and bringing her face inches from yours.

Her hand very gently cupped your cheek, mindful of the dark bruises that littered the skin, tilting your chin up. Her eyes searched you for a long moment like she was reading your mind. Like she was deciding what you needed from her.

Her pointer finger very gently followed the long cut that ran under your left cheek, up to your temple, and just above your eyebrow. “I thought they usually put a bandage over stitches,”

Your eyes darted away from her. “I didn’t like the way it pulled at my skin,”

“I think you’d like it less if you got an infection,” She deadpanned, using her thumb to tilt your chin up further as she stepped into your space. “You wouldn’t be able to fight,”

“But the scar would be worth it,” You shrugged, using all of your strength to muster up fake nonchalance.

Her lip quirked upward. “Would it?”

You let your own smile morph into a playful smirk, despite the tremendous effort it took. “Chicks dig girls with scars,”

“I think you’ve got enough of those, cheeky,” She hummed, leaning in and brushing the thick line that lived on the underside of your jaw with her nose. “I like it more when you come out without a scratch on you or a hair out of place,”

You hummed, leaning back on the stall wall as her lips replaced her nose on your jaw, her teeth grazing the delicate skin as she made her way down the column of your throat and back up.

Her hips pressed into yours, keeping you pinned to the wall, her thumbs insistent under your chin, keeping your head tilted up as her tongue slid pleasantly against your own.

You sighed into the kiss, your fingers twisting into the material of her jersey, trying to pull her closer.

Her thigh flexed between your legs, pressing into you, and you couldn’t help the way your hips rolled down to meet her.

Or the wince that broke the kiss when the

movement pulled uncomfortably at your ribs.

“Babe?”

You whined as she pulled away, blinking open to meet her burning blue eyes.

“I’m ok,” You said breathlessly, trying to lean back up to kiss her.

Her hand on your chest stopped you, as did the perfect arch of her eyebrow that screamed yeah right.

Her fingers traced down your chest to the hem of your shirt. They crept under your top, meeting the tape wrapped heavily across your abdomen instead of smooth skin.

Her eyes widened when she pulled up your sweatshirt, revealing the thick white bandages wrapped tightly across your stomach.

“Want to try again love?” She asked, finally looking up at you with an expression that had a shiver tingling down your spine.

“Just two cracked ribs and some nasty bruises,” You huffed, shifting uncomfortably when her fingers grazed the material.

“Just,” She snorted, shaking her head, dropping your shirt, and standing up to her full height. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t want you to worry. The stitches were already enough,”

“I’d rather know and worry than accidentally hurt you,” Alessia said seriously.

You looked away from her, swallowing hard. “And I knew you wouldn’t touch me at all if I told you,”

“Baby girl,” She murmured, her voice going very soft, her thumb very gently ghosting over your uninjured cheek.

She knew that the come down from fights was always particularly difficult for you. That the power that you held in the octagon always made you crave submission. You craved to not have to think, to just exist, and then to let your being relax in the aftercare that followed.

This time the desire was amplified by the brutality of the fight.

She could see you teetering on the edge, fighting the fog that always filled your brain, and while she wanted to scold you for withholding information, she knew that that wasn’t what you needed from her.

Not when you were already dropping so hard.

“Ok,” She said, keeping her voice soft as you leaned further into her touch. “I’m going to shower, and you’re going to be a good girl and stay right here for me, alright?”

You made a low noise in the back of your throat, and your eyes slid closed as you nodded very slowly.

“Good girl,” She hummed, placing a very gentle kiss on your lips, and pulling away. “I’ll be two minutes love,”

You sagged against the shower stall wall.

You could do that. You could wait 120 seconds for your girlfriend.

You could and would do whatever she asked you to do because you knew it would help. You knew she would fit all of your loose pieces back together again and make it ok.

You just had to exist.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #the come down universe

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flowersandbigteeth · 7 months

Text

Meeting your drider general

A/N: It's the middle of October, so I wrote a spider story ^_^

There have been a lot of requests for NSFW drider content. I don't plan on doing any NSFW of my other drider character Vass (he is just too pure 😳), so this is a completely different story in a completely different universe, literally.

General Plot: You've been stolen from your home by a lich, who has declared himself King and assigned a handsome drider general to watch over you, his Queen.

Word Count: 7k

Drider (Ruvain) x fem reader

TW: arachnophobia! THERE ARE SPIDERS! (<- heavy spooky, spider content), a rather graphic death of a minor character, bondage, nsfw drider smut, some graphic violent talk, mention of self harm, yandere behaviors and talk

“You must do it again,” the lich who called himself King hissed at you.

You tried not to glare, tried not to imagine his slow, agonizing death. The amulet he’d fuzed with his body prevented you from harming him, though if you had a single second left in your life where that amulet was gone, you would use it to cut off his cock and feed it to him. You’d spend your last moments smiling as he bled out while he choked to death.

Instead, you lifted the spoon to your lips and tipped the soup into your mouth. It was delicious, as all things were in this castle, but you only tasted ash.

“Yes, that’s more like a Queen,” he cooed, brushing his hand over your hair.

His cold fingers drifted further to your cheek, and you forced yourself not to jerk your body away. Since you’d been captured only a few days earlier, you asked yourself if it was worth waiting to seek revenge. You could end yourself and join the family King Camus had slaughtered to obtain you in the afterlife.

Perhaps you were too much of a coward, but you liked to think that one day you would find a way out of this trap, and then you would take your revenge.

Camus was the cruel ruler of the country of Ventirest, where you’d been born.

You would have lived and died in the small town Cerulle, where your family lived as ranchers, if Camus hadn’t come riding through on a countryside tour. He just happened to see you leading a cow through the market and, in his words, “fell in love.”

That was a lie. Camus didn’t love anything but himself. He wasn’t a popular king, but he had that amulet and an army of monsters to keep the mostly rural country in line. You all toiled to pay his high taxes, though you made very little. He’d sent a page to your father to inform him you’d been chosen as his Queen and that your future was secure.

Perhaps your family would have thanked him for your good fortune if it were a different King, but your parents were only afraid. How long until he grew bored of you and snuffed you out? They tried to hide you, saying you’d run off, and they couldn’t find you. Camus sent his dogs to sniff you out, and when they found you, your family was punished for protecting you. They were all killed, everyone who carried your family name, and you were thrown in his carriage on your way to the Capital.

So, for the past two mornings, you’d wondered to yourself if this was all a waste of time. You pretended to be obedient. You did as he said and let him touch you, though you feared the day that his advances would grow more intimate. He’d promised you that you were lucky that he found you so desirable but was willing to give you a few days to “acclimate” before he forced you into his bed.

You shuddered at the thought of his cold body, which carried the stench of rotting corpses touching your warm skin.

“Master! Master!” one of Camus’ servants yelled, running in with a pile of maps and books in his arms.

“What is it?” Camus snapped. “I’m in the middle of an etiquette lesson with my Queen. What can be so important?”

“Of course, I would only interrupt you if it were dire!” the servant said, throwing himself to his knees in a bow. “And it is dire!”

Scrolls and books flew everywhere as he prostrated himself.

“Well, get on with it. What’s the matter?” Camus barked.

“There’s an uprising, Your Majesty,” he whimpered, afraid he’d be killed as the messenger. “The villages of the west, where you obtained your Queen, have sworn to overthrow you for stealing a child of the land! They mean to take her back to her home.”

Camus snorted, but your heart skipped in your chest. The people of the land came together for you? To seek revenge on your behalf? Your eyes misted with tears. You knew the people of the land were good and just. Their loyalty to a mere farm girl touched you deeply. Inside, you also wept for them. Camus was an immortal lich. You knew of no way to kill him. Many of the people who rode for you would die.

“I didn’t steal her! I am the Goddess's chosen ruler of this land! All women are mine,” he snarled. “I could take every farm girl in this country, and I would still not be wrong. Perhaps I will after I’ve rendered their heads from their necks!”

“Of course, of course,” the servant said. “I am only repeating the reports. I would never-”

“Ruvain!” Camus shouted to nowhere in particular, and from the vaulted ceiling, cloaked in shadows, a drider appeared, elegantly sliding down a length of silk. Despite and maybe because of his bulbous body and eight brown legs, he was incredibly handsome. His eyes shimmered a rich gold, and his hair matched, laying over his tan shoulder in a thick braid.

“You called, Your Majesty?” the half man, half spider, asked, his voice smooth as the silk he’d arrived on.

“I need to convene with my generals. Guard the Queen!” Camus snapped.

The drider looked a little offended.

“Am I not a general, Your Radiance? Have I been demoted?” he asked.

Camus let out a wet laugh.

“No, but you’re the ugliest of the bunch,” he chortled. “I can’t leave my new Queen with someone too pretty, lest she get the wrong idea. Your eyes alone would send any woman running.”

You felt outraged, not only that he questioned your character, but that he’d called this beautiful creature ugly.

The drider’s eight eyes met yours for a moment. They shined like gold coins, and you saw they held the same fire and hate. He, too, was putting on an act.

He gave Camus a deep bow.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he said, and Camus ran out of the room, dragging the poor servant behind him.

When you were alone, you took the measure of the drider.

“I don’t suppose you’d agree to lose me accidentally, would you?” you asked. “I can just slip out of the window over there. I’ll give you a slap if you want to say I fought you.”

He let out a chuckle that made your heart flutter.

“It is wise to let the King have his way,” he said vaguely, though he circled you, looking more closely.

“I don’t like that he called you ugly,” you said, looking deeper into his eight gold eyes. “The only ugly one here is him. He smells like rot. You can smell that, can’t you? Everyone pretends…Anyway, I think you’re very handsome, actually. I quite like your legs, if I’m to be honest. And your eyes are…arresting…uh, in a…ah good way.”

At that, the drider smiled, revealing large, pointy teeth that sent a quake to your stomach.

“He bathes in perfume,” he commented evasively, rescuing you from your own awkwardness.

“Well, it’s not working. The perfumer should be shot…or maybe that’s just how bad he smells,” you said.

The drider looked amused.

“He hasn’t yet conquered you? Has he?” he asked.

“If I could stab him in the neck, I would,” you admitted, clutching the silver spoon you held. “Only it wouldn’t work, would it? He’s warded himself cleverly.”

“You don’t fear retribution? Telling all this to his general?” he asked, touching a lock of your hair and examining it.

“I don’t believe he’s conquered you, either,” you said. “I’d bet my life on it. You want out of here just as much as I do. What’s keeping you? You’re strong…and very stealthy, I might add. How long were you watching from the ceiling?”

He tipped his head, interested in you. Everyone around Ruvain whimpered and cowered in front of Camus; you were very different.

“Where is a monster like me to go?” he asked. “The village from where you came would never accept me. If I didn’t work for Camus, I would have to live in the forest, where some intrepid knight would come for my head on a quest, thinking I had a magic liver or some other such nonsense. I was stolen from a land far from here, and I’m unsure how to return..”

“So you bide your time serving that asshole?” you asked.

He looked thoughtful.

“I thought having access to the royal library would produce some results,” he admitted. “Camus pulled me through a portal. I can’t take a ship back. For all I know, he’s taken me from another universe entirely. In fact, that’s how he obtains all of his ‘monsters.’ To answer your other question, I’ve been watching you since you arrived.”

“And in all this time, you’ve found nothing?” you asked.

He frowned.

“Camus has a secret workshop that I think holds the answers I seek,” he said, “but I can’t get access to it. It’s warded, and if I tried, Camus would know and order my death. I have to approach it very carefully.”

“Slimy bastard,” you grumbled, and Ruvain gave you another of his silky chuckles.

“It is very frustrating, but I wouldn’t say I’ve found nothing. I’ve certainly found something,” he said, his eyes flashing.

“Well, is it useful?” you asked.

His eight eyes blinked in an eerie cascade.

“Only time will answer that question,” he said.

“Care to share?” you said, and he gave you a wide smile.

“We’ve only just met. I can’t reveal all of my secrets,” he said.

You scrubbed your hair and growled your frustration.

“Since I’ve come here, it’s been nothing but secrets,” you huffed. “I miss my ranch. I miss my family. He took the only good things in my life, and now…now I’m just a doll for him to dress.”

“Know this (Y/N): you have my protection,” he said.

You sighed.

“You don’t have to make me promises like that, Ruvain,” you said. “I know you’re only looking after me for Camus. I don’t need your lies. I’m all too aware of the truth.”

He tipped his head and gave you a curious look.

“You will learn the truth of things soon,” he said ominously.

You wanted to ask more, but Camus came in like a tornado, his face the picture of rage.

“How could they?” he snarled. “They are nothing…ants, and they think they can capture me? I’ll destroy them…crush them under my boot.”

His spooky eyes, milky white, turned in your direction.

“I’ll have you tonight!” he said, which seemed to cheer him up a bit.

He crossed the room and cupped your cheeks in his hands, meeting your gaze.

“You’re thrilled, aren’t you, darling?” he asked. “You’ve been waiting for my body, haven’t you? Saving yourself for me? I won’t make you wait any longer, and I’ll fly your virgin blood as a flag for those vermin to see as they arrive. Before they die, they’ll know I’ve taken you and filled you with my seed.”

He was too frantic, his eyes filled with madness, to notice your fear. You did not want him to touch you, and you weren’t a virgin. You trembled, wondering what he would do when he discovered that fact. It wouldn’t be your virgin blood on that sheet; it would come straight from your veins.

He clapped his hands and grinned, his crooked, rotting teeth making bile rise in your throat.

“I must prepare myself!” he beamed. “Our first night of passion and the counteroffensive must be timed perfectly!”

His eyes flicked to the drider.

“Take my Queen into the city, to the fashion district,” he said. “I want her to choose something just for me. A dress, lingerie, oils and perfumes!”

You were surprised he didn’t want to dress you himself, but it seemed he wanted to feel that you adored him, proving so with whatever you chose. You wanted to be sick.

“Don’t let me down, (Y/N),” he said, winking at you.

You gave him a tight bow.

“It will be as you wish, Your Highness,” you choked out, and he hurried out of the room.

You gave Ruvain a serious look.

“End me, Ruvain,” you said. “I’m too much of a coward to put a knife to my own skin. Do me this favor. I won’t let that…monster touch me! He’ll have fuck my cold corpse.”

Ruvain shook his head.

“There are so many reasons I won’t grant you your request, but the most important for you to know is that death will not end your misery. If you kill yourself, If I killed you…he would resurrect you…tie you to him for eternity,” he explained. “A far worse fate than a few minutes underneath him.”

Your heart turned cold as ice, and you gasped.

“No,” you murmured. “He can’t! I can’t…”

“He will,” Ruvain insisted, lowering himself so you were eye to eye.”Camus has no real magic but we can get out of artifacts. He experiments with alchemy. Reanimating bodies, fusing what few relics he finds to living hosts…But I told you. I will protect you.”

“How?” you gasped. “He holds all the cards.”

“Well, the window wasn’t a good option, but now we have some time to play with,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “First, we need to get a message out to your kin. They will only get themselves murdered coming here when we’ve just escaped.”

“Escaped?” you asked. “What do you mean? You just said you wouldn’t let me escape.”

He smiled down at you.

“I told you I would protect you,” he said. “I’ve been working out a plan since I first saw you.”

You blinked up at him.

“You-you have?” you asked.

He gave you a grave look.

“I’m no better than Camus,” he admitted. “I won’t return you to your countrymen, but I will protect you. In my web, you will always be safe. Do you…do you hate me?”

Your mouth dropped open, and you slowly shook your head. Your cheeks were burning like hot irons. The handsome drider thought he would take you for his own? Fear and uncertainty flickered within you, but Ruvain didn’t smell like death, and making love to him would be no hardship, assuming driders and humans could make love.

“Um..n-no,” you said. “I don’t hate you…”

He smiled, showing a white, sharp fang.

“That’s enough for me,” he said. “Now to your message. I have many spies that can reach out to your countrymen, but they won’t believe a warning coming from me. You must record one on a recording crystal. You’ll tell them you’ve escaped and are fleeing, not to come for you.”

He gave you another sobering glance.

“Once you record this, however, there is no doubt it will eventually fall into Camus’s hands. I have many spies, but so does he. He will know you ran from him, and he will spare no expense to find and punish you,” he said.

“Wait, wait!” you said, waving your hands. “What about you? You have a mission here. We can’t run away without whatever he has in his lab!”

He smiled again.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over that,” he said. “With a gorgeous companion, my time in this realm will be far more…pleasant. Returning to my homeland can wait.”

You took a step forward, setting a hand on his fuzzy leg.

“I don’t want to tear your dreams from you, Ruvain,” you said. “It’s not fair. My family is gone…they’re never coming back, but yours are waiting for you.”

His face softened into an expression that was hard to imagine a powerful drider would have.

“You’re still very young,” he assured you. “People assume dreams are static things, that they are losing something if they change. That’s not true at all. Dreams morph and blossom like flowers. You are stealing nothing from me and giving me so much more in return.”

Again, your cheeks burned from his tenderness. If he had some nefarious plan for you, he was doing a damn good job breaking down your walls.

He chuckled.

“Camus is going to be very angry when he realizes you walked right out of the front door to escape him,” he said. “I kind of wish I’d be here to see it.”

You gave Ruvain a shy nod, and he waved a hand for you to proceed.

“After you, my Queen,” he said.

—

The sun was sinking low in the sky when you climbed into the royal carriage. Ruvain walked alongside as it made its way slowly through the bustling city. The citizens were used to seeing Camus’s monsters running errands, and many of them had even made friends when they went to drink in the bars and visit the brothels.

They were much more afraid of who might be inside the carriage. No one wanted to be in the King’s eyeline. It would only lead to ruin. Ruvain had given you a recording crystal, and in the privacy of the carriage, you’d made your message and returned it to him.

You’d told those who would avenge you that you were escaping and going into hiding. You told them not to look for you for their own safety but that you would send a message later to assure them you were okay.

You could not tell them to drop their uprising. Those who would stand up to their King did so for many more reasons than a single woman; you were only the last straw. A revolt was a long time coming, so you sent them the Goddess’s blessing and only asked them to be smart and safe. Do not fly into battle blinded by rage, you’d warned. The King is wiley and immortal. You must be quiet and clever if you mean to unseat him.

Your heart pounded as you entered the fashion district. Ruvain insisted you needed to be seen shopping, or the King’s spies would realize you were running immediately. Ruvain worked best in darkness, so you would stay out until sunset.

You went to shop after shop poking around. Not intending to wear any of it, you purchased the most expensive, obnoxious items you could, happy to be spending the King’s money frivolously. Your heart pounded in your chest as the sun set. It was time to put your plan into action.

Ruvain took you to a spa to have you bathed, plucked, and oiled up like a dinner chicken. Only you didn’t do any of that. The moment you were checked in, you asked one of the ladies for the bathroom and slipped out of the back door.

Ruvain was supposed to meet you in the alley on the other side, and the two of you would climb the rooftops out of the city.

That’s not who greeted you when you opened the door. Yes, Ruvain was there, but he was surrounded by six of Camus’s monsters– three nagas and three minotaurs. Camus stood there, smugly tossing the crystal you’d sent in his hand.

“Tsk. Tsk.” he said, peering at you in the torchlight. “I offered you everything, and you chose to betray me. You should know this spider is a devil. He would have eaten you once you left the city. However, I am kind, and you are just a naive farmgirl; I’ll give you a chance at redemption. Come to me.”

He held his hand out to you. You growled at him. Now that your escape plan had been discovered, there was no reason to pretend.

“I’d rather he eat me one limb at a time than fuck your zombie body!” you snapped, then spat at him.

Ruvain gave you a glance filled with both worry for your mouthing off and also sudden determination. Camus’s face turned to one of pure rage.

“You snivelling bitch! You’re nothing! I could have had you and then tossed you in a ditch, but I offered you the world! To be a Queen!”

“You’re nothing but a filthy murderer who hides behind creatures with nowhere else to go!” you shouted. “Those who have come to challenge you do so with nothing but pitchforks and torches. They have more spine than you’ll ever have!”

“You won’t speak to me that way!” he snarled, the nagas at his side slithering towards you and one grabbing you by each arm.

“I’m going to let you watch while my monsters tear this traitor’s legs off one by one!” Camus promised, glaring at Ruvain.

His face had lost the fear it held and was only a mask of indifference.

“Perhaps,” he said, eyeing the minotaurs approaching him. “You are not the only one protected by magic. You know so little of the creatures you've detained."

He murmured some words under his breath, and in the flickering firelight, a wave of darkness roiled around you. It looked like the earth itself was writhing, a shiny black, living oil…only it wasn’t liquid. You couldn’t tell what it was exactly until the wave began climbing one of the naga’s bodies. Then it was all too clear; millions of spiders rolled over him like the tide rising.

His screams pierced the night air as he frantically tried to brush them off.

It was no use; the wave kept coming, and more and more spiders filled the alley, climbing the walls and smothering the torches.

“I’ll give you a choice,” Ruvain told the other monsters. “You can die like your friend is going to die…or you can hand me the girl and join me.”

“Don’t you dare!” Camus screeched, watching in horror as the naga’s face, covered in spiders, began to bloat, pustules forming and popping from their venomous bites until he all but dissolved in front of you.

The other monsters looked horrified, and a moment later, you stumbled to the ground as they dropped you.

“Come here, darling,” Ruvain hissed, waving a hand at you.

You scrambled across the ground, the sea of spiders parting in your path.

Ruvain scooped you up and set you on his back.

“You fool!” Camus snarled, tearing his eyes away from the bloated, deformed body beside him. “You can’t harm me! I’m invincible!”

Ruvain laughed.

“I don’t need to harm you. In fact, I need you alive,” he said. He nodded at two of the minotaurs. “Bring him. We’re returning to the castle. I’m sending you all home.”

Camus screamed and howled, but carrying him against his will was no harm, so his amulet did nothing. His only power was in the monsters he wielded. He carried no other weapons because he was arrogant and smug. His monsters would follow his order to the letter because they had nowhere else to go.

The minotaurs dragged him behind you through the back alleys. Everyone in the city knew not to meddle in anyone else’s affairs. Camus himself had set such a precedent. So they ignored his cries, as they’d been taught. Shutters closed, and doors were locked as you proceeded to a secret back entrance to the castle.

As you moved through the castle, the monsters you passed were quite happy to let you through. Ruvain told them simply that he was sending them home, and they fell in line, interested to see how this played out. They all had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

You stopped in front of a door covered in runes.

“Open it,” Ruvain barked.

Camus, still filled with pride, shook his head.

“Never! I’ll never bow to a bunch of mindless creatures!” he spat.

Ruvain shrugged.

“I can’t hurt you; we all know that,” he said. “But spiders crawling in and out of all your orifices for the rest of your miserable eternity causes no direct harm. I can’t imagine it will be pleasant, though.”

If Camus’s face could blanch, it would have.

“Let me go; I have to use my hands!” he snapped.

The minotaurs looked to Ruvain for guidance, and after a thought, he nodded.

Camus stumbled forward, turning three of the runes so they formed a pattern you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t seen it after it was solved. The heavy stone door slid open to a set of stone stairs leading downward.

“Let’s go, him first,” Ruvain said, shoving Camus forward.

The parade of monsters followed Camus into the darkness. You worried he’d tricked you all when you finally reached a basement that smelled of rot. You coughed and covered your mouth.

“What is that smell?” you asked, but it was soon clear.

The laboratory, if you could call it that, was filled with dissected bodies. Monsters, people, you couldn’t tell one from the other as they were all flayed like raw fish. The only other notable thing other than sets of alchemy tools, bits of metal, and flesh was a large round mirror on one wall.

“Hold him,” Ruvain told the minotaurs, “don’t let him touch anything. I know what I’m looking for.”

Ruvain set you on the ground and started shuffling through papers. He gave a cheerful shout when he found the right scroll and a small book. You peeked over his shoulder, curious.

“This is the spell to take us home,” he said, then showed you the book. “These are the coordinates of where he pulled us all from.”

“Now then,” he said. “Since we no longer need him, what shall we do with him?”

You all looked around the room,y our eyes landing on the torture equipment, disappointed you couldn’t just dissect him like he’d done to the poor souls rotting on the tables.

One of the nagas had an idea.

“Let’s lock him away, where no one will find him, and he’ll never escape,” he said, nodding to a small inset in the wall near the back of the room where a candelabra would normally go. It was just the right size for a body.

“I expect your silk is too strong to break with his fingers or teeth," the naga said.

Ruvain's face filled with an evil smile.

“That it is, friend!” he said, “I can spin a silk so strong even steel swords or fire won’t break it.”

“No! No! You can’t!” Camus screamed, but it was no use.

Locking him up caused no direct harm, so there was nothing he could do. As a lich, he did not need to eat or breathe, so a comfy coat of spider silk was harmless to his health.

He cried and begged, promising everyone in the room the world, but Ruvain simply took him in his arms, taking his time as he wrapped line after line of silk around him. The monsters listened to each scream and cry with satisfied smiles until Ruvain stuffed his mouth with spider silk and sealed it up. He finished wrapping as Camus whimpered, a mummy of white silk. Then he stuck him in the inset and sealed the whole thing up with a web of more silk. You couldn’t even hear him inside. From the outside, it looked like a nasty spider infestation but nothing more.

The monsters gave one another high fives as their task was complete.

“Now to send you all home,” Ruvain said.

He scurried over to the mirror, twisting and turning various runes until a world appeared in the glass.

“Home!” the minotaurs gasped, racing forward through it before Ruvain had even waved them on.

You winced, expecting them to shatter the glass, but instead, they passed right through it. They ran through without a single glance back. One after another, he put in the coordinates of each of the monsters’ homes, and they left, some of them thanking him, others so excited they simply ran before the chance passed them by. When every monster was gone, you gave Ruvain a sad look.

“It’s time for you,” you said, smiling a little. “You were my savior, and I can never thank you enough for that, but I understand you need to return home.”

He smirked at you.

“Now I can go home whenever I like,” he told you. “And perhaps I will someday, but now we have your world to attend to.”

You looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean? You’re free? Why aren’t you running like the rest?” you asked.

“Because my world never needed me and this world needs a Queen,” he said. “And a Queen needs her guardian knight and first general. With the word of their Queen, your world will accept me, not as a monster, but as your companion.”

He bowed in front of you, taking your hand and kissing it.

“I offer you my life, Your Radience,” he said, then peeked up and winked at you. “But don’t think because you’re my Queen, I’m ever letting you go. You’re mine, and we will rule this land together.”

He stood and looked around.

“Now, let’s get out of this filthy place. I’ll have the mirror moved somewhere that doesn’t smell like death and seal this miserable laboratory up forever,” he said. “I’ll be sure to make it look like every other wall in this castle so no one has the bright idea to go exploring looking for treasure and instead finding an angry lich.”

He returned you to his back, and the two of you ascended back to the empty castle. Footsteps echoed through the halls, and soon, you were faced with a bunch of farmers carrying torches and pitchforks.

“Free her from the creature!” someone shouted, but you held up your hands in panic, worried they would hurt Ruvain.

“My companion is not your enemy, people of the land!” you shouted.

They all looked at one another, confused.

“He’s one of Camus’s monsters!” one of them said.

“NO, no. You are very wrong,” you explained. “Ruvain has freed us from Camus and sent all of the monsters back to their homes. They never wanted to be here to start. Ruvain is mine. You will not take him from me!”

The villagers looked confused, but they’d noticed on the way in that no one had put up a fight. The monsters appeared to be gone, and the castle was empty, but what servants hadn’t run the moment no one was looking.

“Her Majesty (Y/N) gives me too much credit,” Ruvain said, smiling down at you. “She is the one that deserves your thanks for freeing us from the nasty lich. I am only her servant, bound by the same gratitude as you should be. She is my Queen and should be yours as well for her service to the kingdom. There is a power vacuum now that the lich is gone. Do you want it filled with some other despot who cares nothing for you or a woman from your own land? She’s brave, kind, intelligent, and beautiful. The countryside will welcome a humble Queen who is one of their own.”

Ruvain bowed to you deeply. The lead villager gave you an odd look and turned to discuss the issue with his fellow countrymen. A moment later, torches were extinguished, and pitchforks hit the floor with a clang as the villagers bowed as well.

“Long live Queen (Y/N)!” they shouted in unison.

You couldn’t help your burning cheeks, but you knew your kin needed strength, not a shy girl, so you tipped your head.

“I promise to serve you well,” you said as Queenly as possible. “Now, we must rebuild what Camus has broken. You are the bravest, strongest citizens of Ventirest. You came here knowing you would face monsters with only your farmtools and spirits. I can never truly express how your care for a simple farm girl moved me. I would be honored to have you form my guard if you are willing.”

“We will begin to rebuild tomorrow,” Ruvain said. “For tonight, you have traveled a long way, and the Queen has accomplished much in only a few hours. Let’s all rest. Run and tell the heralds to inform the people Camus is defeated. Tonight, they should celebrate their freedom.”

The villagers gave Ruvain uncertain glances, but mostly because it was hard not to be frightened by such a large creature, especially one with eight legs. You encouraged them with a nod, and they gathered their tools and took off to the barracks where the monsters used to sleep when they ran the guard.

“I’ve told you a lie,” Ruvain admitted when they’d gone as he sat you on his back.

“What is that?” you asked, your heart fluttering, hoping he wouldn’t let you down, that he didn’t do this all to trick you.

“I told them you needed rest when, really, I just wanted you all to myself,” he said.

His gold eyes glinted with mischief.

“Should I be worried?” you asked, your voice wan, and he chuckled.

“Only if you don’t like orgasms,” he said, crawling down the hallway towards the unused Queens chambers.

You’d have to fumigate the former King’s room and bed. It all smelled like rot.

Your cheeks burned again at his words, and a very special tingle shot down your spine to your core.

When you entered the room, he set you down on the floor, sliding the door shut behind you with one elegant leg. You watched, your heart racing, as he slowly and deliberately lit the fireplace, then the candles, casting your bedroom in soft, flickering light.

When his gold eyes finally met yours, they were full of hunger.

"You said you'd rather I eat you than for that lich to fuck you," he hummed, circling you to take in your form.

He lowered his head, sniffing your neck.

"I liked that," he purred, and a shudder that was something between fear and excitement rolled through you.

You let out a yip, as he pounced on you, taking you up in his arms and climbing gracefully to a shadowy corner at the arch of the vaulted curling.

Candlelight flickered in his eyes so that they glowed in the darkness.

Another surprised yelp echoed against the stone, mixed with the sound of fabric tearing as Ruvain ravenously stripped your dress from you with his teeth. Strips of gold and indigo fluttered to the floor far below.

“You’ll never don human clothing again,” he insisted. “I’ll have dressed made of spider silk, so you always wear my mark.”

When you were bare, he examined every part of you, all the white spinning web he crisscrossed to form a large nest for the two of you to rest.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you asked, your breath shaking as one arm, then the other was bound by silver silk.

He grinned at you.

"This is how driders mate," he hummed, diligently tying elegant knots to bind your limbs. Your legs were tied open, and your neck and hips pulled slightly so your back was arched, your breasts presented to him.

You had to admit the knots and lace he formed with strong, nimble fingers were beautiful and complex. You trembled both with a touch of fear and a lot of desire. His chest and arms were chiseled from a lifetime of climbing around lofty places. Your eyes followed his elegant movements.

The men you'd known from town were stocky and strong from a farmer's life of chopping wood and eating beef, but Ruvain's figure was all athletic elegance. His muscles were chorded and lean, flexing as he tightened one knot and then another.

It was a delight to watch.

When he seemed happy with the lace of web he'd tied you up with; his attention turned to you. A finger traced your breasts, then drifted lower where his eyes ate up the tender flesh between your thighs.

"I've been dying to taste you, darling," he said, glancing up.

His lips brushed yours lightly at first, and then as if you were a sweet surprise, they landed more firmly, his tongue pushing into you.

"Mmm," he groaned, tasting you as it slid over yours.

When he pulled away, he looked ravenous.

Lowering his head, he returned to examining you between your thighs, fingers parting your folds.

"I'm fascinated by your anatomy. Your two legs hide such a pretty treasure."

He circled your clit, making you moan. Never in your life had you thought being trussed up would get you hot, but your cunt was dripping for him. You squirmed in the soft silk bindings, testing their tightness. You were his prey. He could do what he liked to you.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, his head lowered, a long, searing tongue collecting the moisture at your slit.

"Mmm," he hummed, licking you with long strokes between pressing kisses onto the inside of your thighs. "I love how soft you are. You're going to feel so good on my cock."

His tongue explored your channel, making you let out a loud gasp.

"Mmm, Ruvain," you murmured, making him chuckle, the silky laugh that made your nipples harden.

"Are you eager for me?" he asked, teasing you with a finger as his eyes focused on your face, a smug smirk on his lips.

"P-please Ruvain," you whimpered, every inch of your skin tense and sparkling, begging for release.

"Be patient, little human," he purred. "I'm still exploring."

One finger circled your back hole experimentally before two more entered your pussy.

"Ahhh!" you mewled, twisting in your bonds.

He lowered his head again, licking and sucking your clit until your pleading and sobbing filled the room. His fingers worked inside you gently, the third teasing you where you'd never been touched before. You didn't know it could feel good, but he drove you mad. He brought you higher and higher until you cracked, and an orgasm bloomed from deep in your core and blossomed over your whole body.

Your nipples especially were tight and desperate for his touch.

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking your flavor off the ones covered in your juices.

"Mmm," he said, briefly closing his eyes as he savored you.

When you'd regained your senses, Ruvain was perched over you, palming his cock as he watched you. His other hand pinched a nipple, twisting it gently to see your response. The eyes you were trying to keep open squeezed shut as he toyed with them, soon leaning down to play with them with his tongue.

"So sensitive," he growled, and you felt his sharp teeth nip at the sensitive skin, "and so vulnerable. You're all mine. I could keep you up here forever and torture you, making you fall apart over and over again for me."

"I need you, Ruvain, please," you whimpered, your eyes on the large shaft he was stroking in his hand.

The smile on his lips widened to show all of his sharp teeth.

"I do like it when you beg," he hummed. "Your sweet pleas are very hard to resist."

He didn't make you wait any longer, sheathing himself in your hot, wet cunt. He hissed, and his hands gripped your hips as he seated himself inside of you.

"You're searing inside," he groaned, sliding slowly out and thrusting back in with a bit more force.

You jerked in the silk as he drove into you for several strokes, purely for the pleasure of breaching you, before his sense came back to him. His eyes shone as he kneaded your breasts and curled his body down to you to invade your mouth with his tongue. It moved against yours, mimicking the treatment your pussy was getting.

His powerful hips slammed into yours, held firm by his web. You cried out in his mouth, and you heard a lusty growl build in his throat. He pulled back, leaving your lips wet and shining.

"That's it my sweet little human, milk my cock," he hummed, never taking his eyes off of yours.

Your pussy was doing all of the work since you couldn't move, squeezing and spasming around his thick cock.

"You belong to me. Every inch of your tender flesh; your mouth, your cunt, your cute little asshole are mine to use and enjoy," he growled, one hand clutching your throat while he pounded harder and more raggedly.

"If anyone else touches what's mine, I'll kill them, slowly. You understand? I'm never letting you go. I'll never tolerate a competitor," he promised. "I'll let you perform your duties as Queen, but if you ever let anyone too close, I'll steal you away to my homeland, fucking your pretty body until you forget about this world altogether. I’ll make you my toy. You'll cum when I let you and beg me for my seed…and I will make you beg."

His threats were lost on you. Your thoughts were scattered, drowning in bliss as he filled you over and over again. Your pleasure was at his mercy. He could give it and take it away as he liked. Fortunately, at that moment, all he wanted to do was give.

His finger circled your clit, while he sucked on your nipples, pushing you closer and closer to your end.

"Beg me," he demanded. "Beg me to let you cum."

You would have agreed to anything.

"Please, please , Ruvain, please, don't stop," you wailed. "You feel so good. Please let me cum!"

He gave you a devious smile at you as his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Tell me you want me to fill you with my child," he demanded. "Tell me I'm the only one who gets to spend his seed in your womb."

Your eyes squeezed shut, hovering just on the tip of an explosion.

"Anything you want, Ruvain," you said. "I'll carry your child. I'll give my body to you; just please don't stop!"

He laughed, pleased that you were willing to be his, and doubled his efforts. His mouth crashed against yours, pulling your tongue into his mouth and stroking it. You felt pleasure in places you'd never felt before. Your lips and tongue were sparkling. Your breasts ached, brushing against his chest, your nipples hard points. And finally, your cunt felt like a vice on his cock, his thick shaft hitting every sensitive spot.

You detonated in his arms, the world dissolving, and your only conscious understanding was Ruvain's scent, touch, and delicious, overwhelming pleasure. Colors exploded behind your eyes, and your body felt like fireworks. Your muscles went completely limp as Ruvain emptied his cum inside you. There was so much, waves of hot fluid gushing from your cunt. You heard it splash against the stone floor far below you from somewhere far away.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he breathed in your ear. "The moment he stole you from your village, you were mine. You may take time to feel the same tenderness for me, but I'm happy to wait."

He carefully extracted you from the nest he'd made, orienting himself so he could tie you to his chest with more silk to rest.

In any other circumstance, you would been frightened being so far up, but you felt perfectly safe tied to Ruvain's body, and your thoughts quickly muddied as you fell asleep.

522 notes · View notes

lunemai · 28 days

Text

•• -Mornings With You- ••

Demigod!Y/n x Luke Castellan

Summary - Waking up with Luke on your birthday in a cabin near the beach feels like a dream or at least it was going to be, until some people decided to interrupt.

Warnings - Y/n's godly parent is not specified, she/her pronouns, softness, talk of kids, kissing, no betrayal universe, teeth rotting fluff, marriage, and that's it I think.

part one - part two || can be read as a standalone. ||

•••••••••••••••••••••★•••••••••••••••••••••

The distant waves and the birds singing walking the shoreline are sounds you look forward to when waking up, this time, it was a different sound, a more annoying sound, a very familiar voice.

"I didn't even mean it like that-" Percy tries to say but is quickly interrupted by the sound of Annabeth's voice, "Yes, you did."

"Okay, you came to my house on this glorious peaceful morning to talk about your.. -marital problems?" Luke talks in between both of them. I can practically hear Annabeth's eye roll, "Of course not, we came to give your prisoner her annual 'congrats on not dying' birthday cake." right.

Everyone knows as demigods living a long and prosperous life is not guaranteed, therefore; congrats on not dying birthday cake. Though I think that's what every “normal” person gets, it's just very subtle.

“what? she’s not my prisoner.” I hear Annabeth scoff as I get up from bed and head towards the bathroom door inside mine and Luke’s room, quietly. duh.

“right.” Annabeth says, there’s a pause before Luke answers, “Right?” though he’s trying to be assertive it sounds more like a question than a statement.

there’s another pause before I hear that same voice that woke me in the first place, “So are you going to let us in or??” I hear Annabeth shove past him and Luke and head towards the kitchen where the boys also seem to follow.

since I can no longer hear their voices I finally enter the bathroom to brush my teeth and my hair, no one wants to look like a monster around Demi-gods of all people, might end up without a head.

coming out of the room I immediately hear the sound of Percy and Annabeth having a conversation about why having too much blue food coloring could ultimately be damaging.

Finally coming into view I see Luke making coffee with his back facing us and the soulmates sitting in bar stools awaiting their drinks.

Percy has a cherry muffin in front of him and Annabeth had buttery popcorn, in the morning.

“Oh hey sleepy head, I’m surprised your kidnapper lets you out of your room,” Annabeth says, Luke turns around with a coffee mug in his hand and leans against the kitchen counter while Percy simply awaits Luke’s rebuttal.

“Same, I guess I must be his favorite victim,” I say, encouraging Annabeth to jab at the fact Luke and I haven’t left our home in 2 weeks since our honeymoon.

“who’s side are you on?” Luke says with his brows furrowed. “The winning side, mine,” Annabeth answers for me.

I raise an eyebrow at Luke walking towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist once I reach him to look up at his eyes.

“Hi, baby.” He says looking down at me he places one hand on my hip, and his forehead meets mine.

“Hi handsome, you make any for me?” I say pointing at the mug in his other hand with my eyes.

he squeezes my hip his hand and nudges my nose with his, “Of course I did, you’re my favorite victim.” he meets my lips with a matching soft smile on his face, 2, 4 seconds and I hear a voice,

“Did you make any for us?” of course, it’s Percy.

sadly, Luke pulls away from the kiss to look at Percy. “You think I want you to have any more energy than you already do?”

Percy sighs in disbelief, “What energy? I’m a ball of sarcasm, not happiness.” Luke lets out a laugh and replies, “Sure Perse, there should be enough in the pot.”

Luke looks back down at me and pecks my cheek, “You want your ‘congrats on not dying cake’ or me and the beach first?”

with a soft laugh, I respond “Depends, who made it this time?” I say while turning to look at the two occupying the kitchen island.

“Me.” Annabeth says, and that’s all I need to hear, “Cake first then.” Percy shrugs and decides I have a right to say that after last year’s cake.

“I thought adding salt to things made it more flavorful or whatever, I mean they do it with chocolate milk.” even though he’s right, a whole cup of salt on a cake was not the right move.

“Right, but the point is not to aim for a salty flavor.” I have to admit, reading and following instructions will never be an easy feat for a Demi-god, dyslexia, and all that.

“That’s why you have to re-read things Percy,” Annabeth says while getting the cake out of the box.

Annabeth hands each of us a slice of red velvet cake and we all eat with glee laughter, and sarcasm since Percy and Annabeth are here.

“Okay, now that we ate and used dishes we don’t have to wash, Happy birthday prisoner, try to find an escape route soon,” Annabeth says standing up to hug me and put her dish in the sink for Luke to wash later.

“Yeah, thanks for using water in the only way I could never, Luke,” Percy says also putting his dish in the sink on top of Annabeth's.

“Don’t worry, I know I can handle water more than you, son of Poseidon,” Luke says gathering mine and his dish, to stack them atop the rest.

“Happy birthday newly kidnapped.” that didn’t sound grammatically correct, but I wouldn’t know.

“Thanks, Perse, and also thank you for not making the cake.” with a nod full of fake sympathy, Percy and Annabeth walk out the door with a last goodbye hug and a wave.

closing the cabin door, I feel arms wrap around my back, leaning against Luke I feel his chin on my shoulder.

“You know the beach will be here all day,” he says in between the kisses he’s now placing on my collarbone, all leading up towards my jawline.

“Yeah, you’re right about that one,” I say closing my eyes and enjoying the sensation of him making a path of kisses up my neck.

“so maybe, we should just go back to bed for a little while.” he finally reaches my cheek, and I open my eyes to turn my head towards his, nudging my nose against his.

“That sounds like a great plan,” I say turning around in his arms to put my hands on his chest.

“Yeah?” he says softly with a deep and passionate kiss following.

breathing heavily I manage to respond

“Yeah.”

notes: this is my first fic in sooo long!! i’m so happy to have this done, it’s 1,081 words and i’m so ducking proud of that.

Thank you sm for reading! I promise there’s many more coming.

REQUEST ARE VERY MUCH OBLIGED.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #pjo #luke castellan fic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #luke castellan fluff #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percy and luke #luke castellan imagine

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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

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i work from nine to five; hey hell, i pay the price | Marcus Pike

Summary | You use the office halloween party as a way to prove you can push yourself out of your comfort zone. You didn't expect that to mean that the apple of your eye, Marcus Pike, would take an interest in you.

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Plus Size F!Reader

Word Count | 4.4K

Warnings | Explicit smut, workplace 'romance', negative talk about bodies, body issues, plus size reader, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex, dirty talk, mention of food and alcohol, halloween vibes, costumes, pet names, but nothing else.

Authors Note | I told myself I wasn't going to do halloween writing, and then I had a very vivid image of Marcus Pike bending me over his desk at a work party.... So I did some halloween writing. As a woman who lives life in a bigger body, this one goes out to everyone else who has felt the way reader has felt. These are MY OWN experiences, attitudes I've had given to me, and given to myself, they aren't universal, we all feel differently about ourselves, but if you've ever been made to feel less than because of the way you look, just know I see you and that Marcus Pike would absolutely take you apart regardless of how thick your thighs are. If you liked this, please consider supporting me through my Ko-Fi.

Divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

You tug at your skirt a little, trying to pull it down over your thighs. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to choose something skimpy for the office Halloween party. A way to challenge yourself, finally start to work through the years of bullying at school, and the off-hand comments from your almond-mom who had always told you things like, ‘you could stand to lose a few pounds’, or ‘surely a salad would be a better idea?’.

It had been such a relief when you’d gotten this job two years ago, finally earning enough on an FBI salary to move out of your family home and into your own space. A space where you weren’t judged for how many fries you had on your plate, or how the pair of trousers you’d chosen to wear made your belly look. It had been good for you, and ever since, you’d been trying your best to challenge yourself to do things you never thought you’d ever have the confidence to do.

Things like standing in the office, in a pair of fishnet tights, with a skirt so short that if you bent over, Dave from Finance would get a complete eyeful. Looking around though, you couldn’t help feel like it had been a terrible idea. Amy from HR looked absolutely phenomenal in her devil outfit – a red bodycon dress that looked like it had been painted on, showing not a single imperfection on her body – and Jessica, who worked reception, in a Catwoman jumpsuit that hugged her figure perfectly. You don’t think it would ever go away, the comparing yourself to everyone else, even though you knew that Amy and Jessica would totally have their own insecurities about things.

You were trying to make yourself at small as possible, crowding yourself into the corner of the room, hand clutched around a plastic cup full of ‘spooky punch’, that Hannah, the office manager had put together, which comprised of mostly vodka, some orange juice and what looked like a whole bottle of green food coloring, with some eyeball candy floating around in it. She’d put together a Halloween playlist, which was currently blasting The Monster Mash at a decibel you think should be illegal, and everyone had contributed to her spooky buffet, which was just normal food cut into shapes – like your addition of frozen pizza that you’d cut out with a ghost-shaped cookie cutter. You know you should go and mingle. Adam, on your team has already tried twice to get you to join their little group, so you relent, and walk over, giving everyone a warm smile. It’s all going well, until Alison, nods her head in your direction and stats speaking.

“Did you work late?” She asks, to which you shake your head.

“No, why?”

“Oh,” She grimaces, “I just didn’t think you’d dressed up, is all.”

And you know it’s mainly because she’s oblivious to mostly everything, but it smarts. Sure, the orange turtleneck is something you’d worn to work before, as are the black platform heels, but the skirt that ghosts the bottom of your ass and the fishnet tights that are still probably one size too small are not something you usually wear, nor are the fake glasses, with thick black frames, or the fucking magnifying glass you’re clutching. You sigh, make your excuses and walk over to the buffet table, picking up one of the slices of pizza you’d brought. Once you’ve eaten that, you reach for one of the cupcakes at the back of the table. It’s iced like a pumpkin and the cake looks to be chocolate, which is your favourite. You’re peeling off the wrapper and about to take a bite when someone interrupts you.

“They’re delicious.”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Marcus Pike. Head of Department. Not your boss, but your boss’ boss, and the most beautiful man you think you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d sat in on meetings that he chaired, supposed to be taking notes but instead focused entirely on him and how he commanded the room. The way he talked with his hands, and how much you wish you could have him run those over your thighs. Or the way he would chew on his bottom lip when he was concentrating, wondering whether he’d like it if you did that if he were to ever kiss you.

“Oh.” You exhale softly, suddenly uber aware of the fact he’s probably just watched you eat the ghost-shaped pizza, and now, not a minute later, getting ready to bite into the cupcake, you go to set it down on the table, but he stops you, hand gently holding onto your wrist.

“Please,” He says softly, “I made them, so I need the ego boost.”

You smile a little, finally meeting his eyes, “You just said they were delicious, what do you need my opinion for?”

“I remember the raspberry muffins you made last week,” He smirks a little, “And the apple turnovers the week before those, and everything else you bring in, I need to know what the office star baker thinks about my effort.”

You’re going to refuse, say you’re already full, despite the pizza being the first thing you’d eaten that evening, that you’ll take it home with you and report back on Monday, but his beautiful brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, so you sigh, peel the rest of the wrapper off and take a bite. It’s actually delicious. He’s put some kind of orange flavouring in the icing, and the cake itself is really good.

“You were right,” You smile, “It is delicious.”

He smiles, like he’s won a prize and it makes you feel a bit fuzzy inside, that this man next to you has been affected by your praise.

“Great costume, by the way.” He compliments, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body.

“You mean you don’t think I ran out of time and came in my office clothes?” You tease.

“You’d wear that skirt to the office?” He’s smirking at you, and also offers you a wink, which has your hand dropping to the table, holding yourself up, why on earth was Marcus Pike flirting with you? “It’s good, Velma, right?” He motions to the magnifying glass abandoned on the table.

You chuckle a little, “First prize, got it first time,” You then take a moment to take in his costume, he’s wearing a brown jacket over one of his usual shirts, a brown satchel is draped across his body and he’s got a hat on, but it’s the whip that really gives him away, “Indiana Jones?” You say quietly.

“The one and only.” He smiles, opening his arms a little.

You think it must be the amount of vodka that Hannah put in the punch, but even so, your next question shocks you, “Do I ask where you got the whip from?”

He looks around dramatically, “Just checking Amy from HR is out of earshot,” Then he leans in a little closer, “It’s from my own personal collection.”

You reach your hand out, letting your fingers run over the material where the handle is holstered in his pocket. It feels expensive, although it’s not like you have much experience with them to pass judgement on what’s expensive and what isn’t.

“Feels expensive,” You hum, “Guess that head of department salary has to get spent on something.”

He reaches down and takes your hand in his gently, running soft circles over the skin on the back of your hand, “You really do look lovely tonight,” He speaks softly, “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

And then as quickly as he was stood in front of you, he’s gone. You let out a breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding in, focusing on the way your chest is heaving and you can feel your pulse in your head. You pick up your plastic cup and down the liquid that’s left in the bottom, wincing at the strength of the vodka, then deciding you need a top up.

You mill about for a little bit longer, but still feel like a bit of a spare part. You’ve shown your face, spoken to everyone you should have, and now there’s a glass of wine and a bubble bath with your name on it back home. You pick up your coat from the back of a random office chair, grab your bag from your own desk, and sneak out as quietly as you can. You’re halfway down the hall, almost to the elevator, when you hear a voice from behind you.

“Running away?”

You turn around, Marcus Pike is leaning against the doorframe to his office. He’s taken the satchel off, and the whip is no longer in his pocket. He’s crossed one ankle over the other, arms crossed over his chest.

“Feeling a little like a spare part,” You shrug, “And there’s a glass of wine calling my name at home.”

He nods in understanding, “You drink whiskey?” He asks.

“If I have to.” You answer back.

“Well, how about you stay and have one with me,” He offers, “Leave that wine for another day.”

You shift awkwardly from foot to foot, because why on earth would Marcus Pike want to have a drink with you? It feels like someone somewhere is having a good old laugh at your expense, but you feel your feet leading you towards him, brushing past him and into his office.

You’ve been in here a handful of times before, mainly to drop of reports and papers, and only once whilst he’s been there. It’s been a very professional relationship up until now, no flirting, nothing inappropriate. You drape your coat over the arm of the small couch he’s got there – you imagine he sleeps on it when he hasn’t got time to go home during crunch time of investigations. Your bag sits on the floor next to it.

He leaves the door open, giving you an out if you want it. He points to the couch, tells you to sit down, which you do, pulling once again at the tiny skirt, trying to cover the way the skin of your thighs bulge through the holes of the fishnet tights, ultimately failing, as Marcus reaches into one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out two crystal tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. He fills them both equally, handing one to you, but he doesn’t sit next to you, he just leans against the edge of his desk.

“I always thought it was a myth,” You muse, “Agents with whiskey in their desks.”

He smiles at you, “It’s in there for big wins,” He explains, “Cracking cases and that kind of stuff.”

You nod your head, taking a small sip of your drink, wincing as it drags down your throat, “What’s tonight’s big win?” You ask, fluttering your eyelashes and then cringing a little at yourself.

“You looking that sinful.”

You’re taking a sip when he says it, so you end up spluttering quite unattractively at his words. Is he serious? You dab at the corners on your mouth, setting your glass down on the floor, “Sorry,” You mutter, “But are you for real?”

He smirks, “As real as you and I.”

He pushes himself off the desk, puts his drink down on it as he moves. He takes three wide strides until he’s stood in front of you. You look up from where you’re sat, hands folded in your lap. He reaches out, drags the fake glasses from your face, throws them absentmindedly onto the couch next to you. You’re breathing heavily as reaches out with one of his hands. The flat of his palm cupping your jaw, whilst his thumb traces along your bottom lip.

“Do you want me to close the door?” He asks, voice lower than you’ve ever known it.

You have no words, your tongue refusing to work, so you nod instead, because as much as you’re still thinking someone is going to come in and tell you you’re being pranked, you also want to know what he’s going to do next. He’s back to you in moments once he’s closed the door and turned the lock. The light above is harsh, but it’s needed, because the blinds are closed.

He's standing in front of you again, this time both his palms are cupping your cheeks, and he’s leaning down, ever so slowly, until his lips are a hairs breath from yours. God, you want him to push the last few millimeters and kiss you, but he’s stopped. Waiting. And you don’t want to break first. You’ve done it before, gone to kiss someone, and then felt them laugh just before you can, because why would they want to?

“You gonna kiss me, pretty lady?”

“I want you to kiss me first.” You admit on a shaky breath.

You’ve got your eyes closed, so you can’t read his eyes, look for the sense of regret in them, so it’s a shock when you feel his lips on yours. It’s so soft, barely there, before he’s pulling away, still close enough to feel his hot breath over your skin though.

“There,” His thumbs are moving across the skin of your cheeks, “Now you.”

So, you do. You reach your hand around to the back of his neck, pull him into you and really press your lips to his. His bottom lip slots between yours and you suck it gently into your mouth. You smile a little at the sound that comes from his throat, then he’s opening his mouth against yours and you’re following, doing exactly the same, letting his tongue behind your teeth as it melds with your own. His hands are dropping from your face, trailing down your shoulders. He leans forward into you a little, his hands under your arms to tug you up.

You drag your mouth from him to stand up, his hands dropping to your hips to guide you behind his desk. There are nerves bubbling under your skin because you know what he wants as he pressed your ass into the wood. He wants you to sit on it. To be fair to the department, it’s a sturdy looking desk, but the thought of the way it’s going to creak under your weight makes you want to crawl into a hole. Marcus doesn’t push though, just brings his mouth back to yours, letting his hands wander a little, dragging them back up your body to palm your tits through the layers you’re wearing.

“I think you did this on purpose,” He speaks against your mouth, “Like you knew this woman had always driven me wild.”

You don’t mean to, but it makes you laugh, “Don’t tell me Velma from Scooby-Doo was your sexual awakening?”

He laughs back, doesn’t confirm it, but doesn’t deny it either. He’s looking down your body, having pulled back a bit, “Fuck,” He mutters, “Every time I look at you, it gets better.”

“The magic of a slutty Halloween costume.” You shrug.

He nods his head, but speaks again, “It’s not just that though,” He’s speaking softly now, “I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, wandering around the office all the time, driving me mad.”

This would normally be the time that you’d try and fight against the compliments being thrown your way. Tell them they must be lying, or joke that they need to get their eyes tested. But somehow, it doesn’t feel like you should do that here. There’s something about Marcus that makes you think he wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t string you along this far just to have a laugh at your expense, so you don’t do it, for the first time in your life.

You reach up to his shirt, undo two of the buttons, “You know,” You hum, “I think exactly the same as you, with your whip or not.”

He breathes out, taking hold of your wrists to stop your movements, “Let me make you feel good?” He asks.

You meet his eyes, feeling heat rise across your face, but you nod anyway, because you’ve come this far, and you can already feel wetness pooling in your panties. He drags his hands down your body, grips your hips and forces you to sit on the edge of the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you. He’s looking you straight in the eyes, as he pushes the material of your skirt to gather at your waist. Your legs open further, and Marcus groans when your movement reveals the see-through black lace of your panties. It hadn’t felt right to dress as a sexy Velma and wear your normal underwear, is how you justify it.

You’re expecting him to tell you to lift up so he can drag your tights off you, but instead, he hooks a finger through the material at your groin and fucking rips them apart. It makes you gasp. You’d chide him for ruining them, but at this point you don’t care. They were cheap, and if it means you’re going to have his mouth on you quicker, then you’re not going to complain.

Marcus leans forwards, you can feel the heat of his breath splaying across the lace material, and then he drags his tongue across the length of your folds over the lace of your panties. Even with the material barrier between your skin and his mouth, you’re tipping your head back in pleasure, letting out a breath as he repeats his movements, dragging his fingers just behind his tongue on his last pass of movements. It’s not enough.

“Please, Marcus.” You beg quietly.

“What do you want, pretty lady?” He asks, looking up at you with angelic eyes, as if he couldn’t possibly think what it is you want from him.

“Your mouth.”

“You already have it.” He points out, proving his point by licking another stripe up your panties.

“Marcus,” You sigh, “Move the… fuck… move the damn material out of the way.”

He lets out a huff of amusement, “See,” He says, doing exactly as you ask, hooking his fingers under the material and moving it to the side, “All you had to do was ask.”

He doesn’t waste any more time now. Letting his tongue dip between your slick folds, dragging the wetness that’s pooled at your entrance up to your clit, where he flicks softly with the tip of his tongue. You feel his thumbs spreading the lips of your cunt, baring you to him so he can really start to work you up. He presses the flat of his tongue to your clit, working it gently as your hand settles into the curls on his head, anchoring him there. He’s doing all the things you love, moving between wide stripes of the flat of his tongue, and quick flicks with the tip, until your hips are grinding against his face and you’re biting down onto your bottom lip to keep quiet.

“You taste so fucking sweet, pretty lady,” He speaks against your skin, surprising you a little as he pushes not one, but two of his fingers into your soaked cunt, “Feel good?”

“Oh God,” You breathe out as he hooks his fingers inside you, pressing against a spot you had no idea even existed inside of you, “Don’t stop… don’t fucking stop.”

He doesn’t, the obedient man that he is. He starts dragging his fingers in and out of you, whilst his lips wrap around your clit, pulling it into his mouth, laving it with attention from his tongue, which sends you over the edge.

Your thighs are clenching around his head as your body convulses. All you want is to cry out, call his name into the room, but even though you can hear the music from the party down here, anyone could be walking past, and it would be just your luck that it would be Amy from HR. His mouth is working you through those aftershocks as your thighs ease the pressure around his head.

He's breathing as heavy as you are when he stands, slotting himself between your open legs. You can feel the hard length of him pressing against your silken center, as he dips his head to kiss you again, your taste intoxicating on his tongue.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, almost desperately, “You gonna let me?”

“Please.” Is all you can get out, as he drags you off the desk, flipping you around so your front is pressed against the wood of the desk.

He’s got his hand on the nape of your neck, pressing you down. You can hear him undoing his belt, dragging the zipper of his jeans down. You shuffle a little, widening your stance as he takes his place behind you. You can feel him dragging his cock through your folds, gathering the slick he’s pulled from you, before he’s plunging into you in one go. It takes everything you have not to scream. He’s big. Stretching you like no-one has before and it feels so fucking good.

Marcus is still gripping the back of your neck as he starts moving, his other hand gripping the plush cheek of your ass, spreading you open even more as he slowly drags himself in and out of you. He’s going slowly, and you think that the way his breath is hitching in his throat means he’s struggling to keep his composure, so you decide to have a little fun.

When he’s pulled almost all the way out of you, you turn your head as much as you can with his hand resting there, looking over your shoulder at him as you wiggle your ass, slowly backing into him, letting your cunt suck him right back into you again.

“Baby, you can’t do that,” He pleads, his fingers digging into the skin of your ass, “Carry on like that and this will be over before it’s begun.”

“Don’t care,” You mutter, “Harder, please.”

He starts pounding into you now, the sound of his skin slapping against yours is obscene. You’re both trying as hard as possible to keep the moans and groans as quiet as possible, and you can’t help but wish he wants more, that he’ll take you home sometime, unwrap you and let you scream for him, but you decide to focus on the here and now.

“Touch yourself.” You hear demanded from behind you, “I want to feel you come on my cock.”

You snake your hand underneath you, pushing the discomfort of how your arm is trapped between your body and the desk, and start tracing quick circles over your clit. You’re already sensitive, hanging on the edge from his mouth, so you press harder, move your wrist faster.

“Feel so fucking good, baby,” Marcus groans behind you, “Close, ain’tcha?” He asks, “Go on baby, let go for me, let me feel you.”

And it’s his voice that does it, that finally tips you over the edge, has your cunt clenching around him, walls fluttering and teeth biting into your bottom lip as your knees give way. Thankfully, Marcus is gripping at your hips, which helps to keep you upright.

“Where, baby?” He asks, voice strained, and you don’t catch what he means, “Quick baby, where do you want me?”

“Anywhere.” You groan out, “I don’t care Marcus, just come for me.”

You think for a moment he might stay inside you, which would be fine, you thank the implant under the skin of your arm, but at the last minute he’s pulling out of you, feeling the hot slick of his cum on the skin of your ass as he lets out a low groan out of his mouth. He’s breathing heavily behind you, pulling his jeans back up. You try and move, to push yourself up, but you’re worried if you move further you might collapse.

“Stay there.” He says gently, leaning over you to pluck a few tissues from the box on his desk, gently wiping away the mess he’s caused, pulling your panties back into place and letting your skirt cover as much of your ass as it can in your position.

“You okay?” He asks softly, helping you to stand, tucking a bit of your hair behind your ear.

You nod, because you are, you’ve never been fucked so thoroughly, never been made to come so hard in your life, but there’s an anxiety settling in your stomach. What always happens now is they’ll tell you they had a great time, but don’t think they want to see you again, which is going to be even more embarrassing because you have to work with this man.

It's almost as if he can sense your anxiety, because he’s cupping your cheek again, leaning to give you a soft kiss on the lips, “Would you maybe want to go out sometime?” He asks, “I know we’ve done things out of order, but I’ve wanted to ask for a while.”

You smile, because it does make you happy, that the man you’ve fancied for the best part of a year actually wants to take you out, “As long as you promise to take me back to yours after and let me see you naked?”

He blows out air from his mouth, but his eyes are twinkling, “You drive a hard bargain,” He muses, “But you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He’s moving from you now, over to the couch, picking up your coat and your back, motioning you over so he can help you into your jacket, hooking your bag onto your elbow, then moving to gather his own things, “Wait, right now?” You ask, sounding surprised, as he shrugs his jacket on.

“I know a great diner just down the road.” He shrugs, picking up his satchel.

He’s walking back to you, but you put a hand on his chest, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” You ask, watching a confused look fall over his face, you dart your eyes to his desk, where the whip from earlier is lying abandoned, “I’m only coming back to yours if you bring that.”

You watch as a smirk splays across his lips. He snatches the whip from his desk, shoving it into the satchel, “Well, pretty lady, lead the way.”

#Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike fic #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Pedro Pascal #The mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #plus size reader

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birbs89 · 1 month

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cool things and interesting stuff I saw in the new spooky month episode and just me obsessing over it lol

WARNING!: major spoilers for the new spooky month episode

I really liked Father Gregor because honestly his design is cool in my opinion and I liked that even though he's a priest who in other shows I've seen are almost always made as good and flawless people but in spooky month Father Gregor still has his flaws especial his flaw with how fast he went to blaming Skid and Pump for being the ones who caused Moloch to be freed (there kinda at fault but c'mon their kids)

also Moloch has to have my FAVORITE design for a demon I've seen in media I love how he has the hooves like one's that goats have since how much goats are associated with demons, I adore the furnace type of thing seen on his stomach, and I like how his hands and claws look

and also because Moloch created in my personal the funniest scene in the episode when he panics when his name is revealed to Father Gregor by Pump

also some things about Moloch possession it seems that he can just posses anyone he decides to posses and that he can also posses and control multiple people at a time and when he is not possessing a body he is either in his demon form or in a liquid form

final thing about Moloch is that I kinda feel bad for him for some reason (I think it's just because of how sad Skid and Pump were when seeing that Father Gregor killed him)

also feel incredibly bad for Dexters mom poor girl had to experience the loss of her son and then be lured and killed by the same demon who was the reason her son died

also can we PLEASE give Lila a break poor girl is going through actual hell

Pumps eyes seem to only be blue when he's in a very dark area

and I think from the implications and things Father Gregor said I think Skids father is dead maybe dying sometime when he was in the cult

love how Ignacio just without a second thought shoots Moloch and I think the scene is a reference to Silent Night, Deadly Night 2 specificality the Garbage Day scene since he shoots Moloch right after putting down a garbage can

also speaking of Ignacio I think he might have been an ex cult member since the picture frame where he's holding the birthday cake I think that might be Skids dad also holding the cake with him and if he is a ex cult member it explains why he's boarded up and barricaded his house since they might have tried to kill him in the past

father of the year award goes to John (also Jack) because of how caring this man is to comforting Skid and Pump when they start thinking they aren't good enough and are a problem to their parents and of how much a good father he was to his daughter

love every scene we got with Patty during this episode (also she's very pretty :])

also thought this guy with the briefcase was a reference to Doug from the Fnaf movie lol

also it's revealed in the ending of the episode seen on the NewGrounds version of the episode that the two thief's and the Candy Dealer are apart of the cult so I guess I was right about them having something to do with the cult in my theory

also we get to see the spider monster we saw in a sketch Sr Pelo posted (can't find and if I did couldn't add it since image limit:[) I think it might be the main villain of the next episode and It seems to be in some way connected with the mannequin/Skids dad from the mannequin theory (if it's cannon idk) since at the end of the episode the spider picks the mannequin up and looks at it

we get to see the The Eyes of the Universe in this episode and I was right in my theory that he was located under the cults mansion since we see the cultist take Father Gregor their to be sacrificed in the end of the episode

also Roy seems to be losing it at this point

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saltwatergirl6 · 25 days

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Good morning, a request please from Percy x reader (siblings, not romance) How does Percy react if he discovers that he has a younger twin?His sister was stolen as a baby and grew up in Camp Half-Blood,What will Sally do when she sees her daughter again after so long?

saludos desde la cabaña 3 🐬🐙

faraway reflections

pairing: percy jackson x jackson!reader (platonic)

a/n: i absolutely love this request, i hope it’s something you actually enjoy. 🤍

wc: 1.6k

the lord of the sky has made many mistakes in his godly immortal life, especially one of them always stood out. the name of the mistake was

thalia grace.

after the second world war, the oath of not having demigod children has been made and has not been broken for decades, the children were terribly powerful and caused trouble to the universe multiple times, so not having them was the only solution to cause less destruction and war.

zeus was the first to break the oath, for which he received quite the backlash from his elder brothers, hades and poseidon. meaning that his demigod child (which he didn’t have much care for) was constantly in danger by the two major gods.

but turns out that poseidon was next, when he met a woman who changed him for the better, breaking the oath didn’t seem to be much of a problem for him.

but there wasn’t one demigod child.

there was two.

twins, a girl and a boy, which caused much more problems than one could have.

the king of olympus didn’t take this lightly, he decided to get his revenge by doing the worst, separating the twins, but poseidon insisted on keeping the younger twin alive, but the punishment was to sally jackson, the woman poseidon fell in love with.

sally never got to know her daughter, it was told that she didn’t make it, only her son did.

but she was very much alive and safe, in camp half-blood.

when percy turned 12, the monsters started appearing more often, which meant that it was time for him to finally visit the place that sally has tried to keep him from, camp half-blood.

——————————————————————————

there weren’t many greek demigod children who didn’t have a childhood or some sort of time outside camp half-blood, but you were a special coincidence.

you were basically born and raised in camp half-blood, without a clue on who any of your parents were.

when you got to the age where you could understand such a devastating story, chiron told you that your mother died in childbirth and your father was unknown to everyone.

the guilt you carried was not something an ordinary 12 year old girl should’ve experienced, but like the brave girl you were, you sucked it up, not wanting to show a single sign of weakness to the ares kids who have despised you for quite a while.

percy jackson always wondered what life would be like if his twin sister had survived, if he had someone who was experiencing the same thing as him, life would’ve been so much easier for him.

poseidon, lord of the sea, the earthshaker, the mighty major god has never experienced such guilt in his life. some might say gods are absent of any emotion, but being alive for such a long time has made it much easier to hide their emotions well.

but seeing his little girl silently cry in the hermes cabin every night has broken his heart.

but everything changed the night that sally, percy and grover were driving to long island.

“wait so, my dad is like, one of those guys you told me about? like a greek god?” percy asked curiously, still not believing it.

neither sally or grover answered anymore.

“uh, i don’t think i’m supposed to say this because a certain god might zap me to death, but i have something big to confess.” grover randomly blurted out.

“today can not get crazier, so go ahead.” percy answered, still freaked out about how much has happened that day.

“so percy had a twin sister, right?”

“uh, how do you know that?” percy asked.

“she’s alive, i think.” grover said, trying to form sentences so the bomb he just dropped on the mother and son wouldn’t sound as crazy.

sally stopped the car, grover and percy hit their heads to the backseat.

“excuse me?!” sally yelled out.

“her name is y/n, the only thing chiron actually told me about her is that her last name is jackson and she’s 12 years old, she has been at camp like since birth, i think. ms jackson, keep driving, please.” grover explained, casually.

shock was written on sally jackson’s face, she decided not to say anything, maybe this girl was a coincidence, her baby girl couldn’t be alive, she was gone, but a spark of hope was planted in sally’s heart, her dreams of not losing her daughter were somewhat possible again.

that was before she got turned into dust in the hands of the minotaur.

_______________________________________________

percy woke up into a random room with a lot of beds in it, the room had the aura of the sun, somehow, everything was decorated in warm tones, except for the comforting light blue sheets on every bed, a girl was standing in the doorway, staring at him.

she had the same black hair as him, her sea green eyes were focused on his, she looked like him.

she slowly walked up to him.

suddenly every memory flashed all at once, greek gods, long island, grover being half-a-donkey, the minotaur, his mother.

oh, and his sister being apparently alive.

“hey, i’m y/n.” you said softly, in a comforting voice, instantly calming him down.

“where am i?” percy asked, confused.

“camp half-blood’s infirmary, wait, did your satyr fill you in on this place?” you asked, slightly worried that you’d scare him away.

“the whole olympian god thing? kind of, yeah.” percy responded, it still felt like a fever dream, and the fact that he was talking to his twin sister for the first time in his entire life didn’t make it easier.

“i’m sorry about your mom, by the way.” you looked at him with genuine support in your eyes.

“our mom.” percy corrected.

“what do you mean?”

“i’m your brother, percy jackson.” percy said, extending his hand for you to shake, he felt bad to drop this all on you, but you had to find out from him, not from anyone else.

“that-, that’s not possible, i don’t have a brother, i don’t have a family, no one.” you were in denial, after 12 years, without a sign of family, this was gonna happen? it wasn’t possible.

“i’m sorry you had to find out this way, but you had to know somehow, grover told me about you being alone for all these years, it isn’t fair to you.” percy flashed a smile to you, but your sweet reunion was interrupted by chiron, camp half-blood’s activities director and your best friend, annabeth chase.

“good morning, percy, i see you’ve met your sister.” chiron said, in a casual voice, as if this whole thing wasn’t the craziest thing you’ve heard in your entire crazy life.

“mr brunner, what? you’re a horse.” right. percy was new here, he had no clue, you remembered that right now.

“a centaur, my boy, you can call me chiron.” he corrected, not feeling offended at all. “now, i think you two should sit down for this.”

______________________________________________

a few days have passed, you and percy have gotten claimed at the same time after bullying clarisse and her brothers just like she had tried to bully you two in capture the flag. it was slightly sad that percy had gotten claimed within the first week of being here, but you had to wait your whole life.

it all fell into pieces, poseidon was your father and now you were going on a quest, because apparently you and your brother stole the most powerful weapon in the universe.

maybe zeus should’ve hid it better? besides, you were never known to be sneaky.

______________________________________________

after the most exhausting summer of your 12 years of life, you were going home.

you never had a place to call home, aside from camp half-blood, you didn’t have your mother waiting for you to come back from summer camp, but now you do.

your mother, sally jackson, saved herself from the underworld, she was probably just as amazing as percy and your father, (who you finally spoke to, by the way) described her to be.

it was never in your nature to be mad at someone for long, so you quickly understood your father’s reasonings on why you were cast out of your family, even though the beginning of your life wasn’t great, percy promised to make it better in the future, with a welcoming family and no smelly gabe. (he was quite jealous that you never got to experience life with smelly gabe.)

“are you sure she’ll like me? what if she thinks i’m too weird to be her daughter, i mean… dad called her a queen.” you ask for the millionth time, feeling doubtful as you waited by thalia’s tree.

everyone knew thalia grace’s story, the brave hero who sacrificed herself for her friends, who still protected every demigod even if she was dead, even though some didn’t admit it, everyone aspired to be what thalia was, a true hero.

maybe our definition of heroes were a completely different thing, but thalia still was someone to remember.

_______________________________________________

there she was, your mother, the woman who gave birth to you, standing with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen.

you couldn’t help but tear up and by the looks of it, she couldn’t either.

“my baby.” she said softly as she pulled you into a tight hug, like if she let go, you’d get lost again.

“hey mom.” you whispered.

“uh, guys, i’m here too.” you laughed, a genuine, happy laugh escaped your mouth.

you were ready for this. a new life, even with all those dangerous quests coming up, you knew you’d be way more powerful with your family, a loving mother and the most amazing (annoying) brother you could ask for.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #frank zhang x reader #connor stoll x reader #travis stoll x reader #leo valdez x reader #jason grace x poseidon!reader #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus #jason grace

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