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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Tim Drake, Danny’s human identity in this universe, is a boy trapped in an empty manor with absentee parents a low socialization.

Danny Phantom, on the other hand, is Gotham City himself. He could fly, he could interact, he could be the heart of his city like he needs to be. From the lowest of the lows to the highest of the highs, Danny loved the people that were his. Well, most of them. Child molesters often found themselves crossing paths with a vengeful, mostly recovered Robin.

He is the city, he is Gotham. And with his status came more changes, ones he welcomes more readily that the changes that came with his title of Ghost King.

Being a city couldn’t change him as much as it would have, had he gained the title before becoming King. But now, his shadows are dark, curling around his shoulders and curling away what little light he allowed into his city. His skin, having once glittered green with stars and galaxies and black holes, clouds over just a bit. It gives him a misty quality. His hands become sharper, stronger. Gargoyle-like. He wonders what he looked like to Batman, holding his broken son cradled safely to himself. He’s crueler, now, but that’s easily balanced by his years of being a vigilante himself.

He loves these changes. They are loved in a way changing into Dead Danny Phantom and Ghost King Danny Phantom will never be loved. And even though his human features are different in a way he never had to deal with as Danny Fenton, because it was his body that he died in, Danny finds himself enjoying the distinction. And he enjoys when they combine, because in the end, they’re just facets of who he is, now.

Gotham flies through his city, and enjoys it as a whole. A bigger picture.

Tim Drake walks through his city, and enjoys it as an individual. The smaller picture.

Being Gotham reminds him of what he had to protect as a whole. A duty he gladly bears.

Being Tim reminds him of the people he’s meant to help, the stories he doesn’t get as Danny. A connection he gladly encouraged.

Gotham is power. He is duty, he is fierce love. But for the good of the whole.

Tim is kindness. He is choice, he is gentle devotion. But for the good of the individual.

He’s both.

Danny. Danny Phantom.

Phantom glides through the smog.

The ebb and flow of people is his life blood, the thrumming of life and death and fear and hate and love and everything the city is sung through him and Danny sung back with everything he had. Danny is the gargoyles perched high, watching everything. He’s the stone curves of the sewers, sheltering his rats and mutant murderous crocodile man. The is no love comparable to a city’s mutant rats and their sewers. Ancients, he loves his city.

It would be nice, Danny thinks wryly, if they’d love me enough to stop blowing up buildings.

The sting of destruction to his city would hurt much more, had he not also been King. Regardless, every time there’s an explosion or general large scale property damage, he feels a stab of mild pain. Catching sight of his Bats, Danny stays invisible while following them. He wills the shadows to cradle them, to hide them further. He softens the stone, the mortar, the steel, just a hint. Their footsteps, silent and aided by the city himself. The wind steal away the noise of the grappling guns, so when Danny’s favorite vigilante duo (a fascination he shared with original text!Tim) broke into the building, not a single soul aside them are aware of the intrusion.

Batman skulks across the support beams, Robin following with an anticipatory grin. Danny floats, invisible, undetectable, besides them.

“C’mon!” A goon grunts beneath them. Danny tilts his head. A… Dresden Aberthy. Wow. That’s one hell of a name.

“Hurry it up! Boss said Batman’s going to get here soon!” Another goon- Robbert- said, waving around a gun like a moron at the terrified hostages. Danny could tell half of them were part of a tour bus, mostly because the other half were his Gothamites, bored and unfairly used to this kind of thing. The tourists… He’s fond of them, having kept track of their progress through his city. He doesn’t care for intruders on his haunt, but tourists like to appreciate his city and its doubtlessly Sam-approved architecture. Most of them. Rude tourists get pigeon shit on their heads and food stolen by his lovely rats.

He’ll have to make sure none of the bullets hit the tourists. He likes this group, even if he has enough awareness to question their sanity in choosing his city to sightsee. He knows it’s a mess. It’s Danny’s mess though, so whatever.

——

All said and done, Batman whoops ass and Robin rescues the hostages just fine. Danny grins proudly as Robin knees a guy in the crotch and punches a lady’s throat in order to incapacitate them.

After they tied the goons up, and interrogated them for Two Face’s plans- explode a quarter of Gotham to distract the Bats from his diabolical plan to murder half of Gotham’s judges and lawyers that have been going after him and his people- the duo retreats to the rooftop.

“Didja think Gotham saw that?”

Batman goes to reply, but Danny beats him to it, coming back to visibility with a wind touched laugh.

“I did, little Robin.” Danny smiles, fangs and shadows on display as his vigilantes startles and whips around to face him. “You did well.”

Robin- Jason!- gapes at him.

“I see you’ve recovered, little bird.”

“Gotham! Oh. Wow. People always said Gotham was a lady, but you’re a guy!”

“It was a Lady,” Danny confirmed. “It’s complicated, little bird.”

“So, you’re really… you’re really Gotham? The city?”

Danny looks at Robin with the weight of the city behind his gaze.

“I think you know the answer to that. But yes, I am your city.”

“Constantine,” Batman starts. “He said that city spirits only appear in times of grave danger.”

There is deference in his words. Batman is Batman for Gotham, after all. Danny just wishes he could… well, be friendlier with his knights. May this is a good place to start.

Are you in danger? What threats do we need to handle? How can I help? How can I protect? Please, let me help.

His Knight always felt more than he ever says. Danny smiles.

“Was Robin’s wellbeing not in grave danger?” Danny floats closer. “I am your city. You protect me, it is only right that I protect you, no?”

“Thank you for saving me, Gotham!” Robin’s grin is a touch more sincere than usual.

“Of course, Robin. You are loved.”

“Is there… a reason you’ve shown yourself today? Gotham.”

Danny chuckles, understanding the awkwardness that was Batman addressing someone with deference.

“I wanted to tell you that you did well tonight. Those tourists weren’t harmed in the slightest. Well done.” Danny gave Robin a playful but sincere thumbs up.

“They weren’t a match for us!”

“No, they weren’t.” Danny ruffles Robin’s hair, noticing how still he grew at it. “Robin was too fast for them. That maneuver at the end was masterfully executed.”

Batman clears his throat and Danny resists the urge to laugh at him. It would be mean.

“Thank you, for the… praise.”

Fuck it. He’s played well behaved for too long.

“Yes. I read in child rearing books that positive reinforcement is necessary for healthy development. You did well, Batman.”

Despite trolling Batman- and somehow holding a straight (and hopefully wise face)- he meant every word.

Allowing a small smile to slip at Robin’s chortles and Batman’s quiet sputtering, Danny moves on.

“Where is Nightwing, Batman?”

“He’s still on a mission...”

“If it is awkward to refer to me as Gotham, Phantom will do.”

Batman dips his head once. “In space, with the Teen Titans.”

“I see. Please tell him I request his presence,” Danny barely waits for Batman’s oddly acquiescing agreement before summoning a pigeon.

“Follow her,” Danny instructs the duo. “She’ll lead you to the places with explosives. I will guide you through her, to Harvey Dent.”

Danny winces as another explosion rings out.

“Your face is cracking!” Robin exclaimed, worried. He surged forward to stare at the hairline cracks appearing on Danny’s jaw.

“That would be the explosives. Any damage to the city will be shown on me.”

“Well take care of it.” Batman growled, shoulders straightening once more into an imposing symbol.

“Yeah!”

“I know you will. Stay safe.” Danny disappears, spreading his awareness and directing his Birds to the explosives that will go off the fastest.

Batman and Robin share a glance and leaps off the roof, ready to save their city once more.

——

Tim Drake wanders around Crime Alley, and meets a blonde nine year old trying to throw hands at her absentee Riddler knockoff of a dad. He dodges the brick en route to his face and kicks the guy’s knees out.

“You okay?”

The girl blinks. She stares at her dad, groaning on the dirty street of crime alley, and flicks her gaze back up to Tim, who waits casually.

“Yep. I’m Stephanie. We’re gonna be friends now!”

She grins at him, a baby tooth missing, and Danny melts.

“Heck yeah. Tim!” He introduces himself for the first time in a long time.

Maybe with Stephanie around, he’ll finally use the name Tim? Maybe he’ll get used to it, finally!

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jksian · 4 months

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Rivals in flight (m) |JJk

Navigating the challenges of adjusting and studying as a commoner amidst insults from the nobility was tough, but, the struggle only intensified when the fellow dragon rider, Jeon Jungkook, who took so much pride upon his status and abilities, became a formidable enemy and the ultimate pain in your ass. What did you do then? Simple. You started fucking him.

Pairing: dragon rider!Jungkook x dragon rider!oc

Genre: forbidden love, fantasy, e2l, ewb (enemies with benefits? lmao), smut, angst (18+)

W/c: 5k+

Warning: okay so... Jungkook is a jerk in it, noble Jungkook x commoner reader= chaos!, jk called her names (love, phoenix, SLUT), school bullies, arguments and fights, Enter Namjoon!!, oral sex in a semi-public place, hair pulling, grinding, fingering, ass spanking like for twice, he eats her out in a library🫣, edging, orgasm denial, cum eating, they are kinda toxic but it'll be okay later IF I EVER MAKE IT INTO A SERIES🥹

A/n: It's finally here!! This is my first ever fic so I hope y'all will like it! I know that e2l meant to be slow burn and it will be the same if I make into a series but I'm not so sure about that:⁠,⁠-⁠) Like, do you guys want me to turn this into a series?

“Aster, ascend! Use ‘astral radiance’ on them now!” You commanded. The dragon respond with graceful flight, scattering the shadows with pulsating waves of celestial energy with his power.

Jungkook’s dragon again surged a series of shadowy entity, a relentless onslaught aimed towards you. You didn’t even had enough time to recover from the previous attack before you see a cloak of darkness approaching you.

“Screw you, Jeon Jungkook.”

As both of you resumed in a blaze of magic and motion, each command from Jungkook and you echoing through the air.

Eythor and Asterlith soared high above the arena where the game is going on, their wings slicing through the enchanted currents with a thunderous flap.

You guided Asterlith through a series of evasive spins and turns, “Defend! Unleash bursts of celestial energy to dispel the shadows!” That burst of energy created a celestial barrier, disrupting the shadowy figure.

The sky became a canvas for elemental clash. Shadows and celestial radiance intertwined, creating a mesmerizing dance that captivated the onlookers in the grandstand.

You heard Jungkook’s voice, a command filled with determination as the word ‘attack’ reverberates through the arena. Soon, you see a shadowy tempest raising above the ground, big enough to engulf the whole arena in its darkness. The intensity of it makes you a bit wary.

You, however, remained steadfast, “Aster, illuminate the sky and repel the encroaching shadows.”

You can hear the heavy breath from your dragon, as he tries his best remain solid in the fight. He had already used so much of his power that its getting harder for him to continue using constellations energy.

You rubs his neck, tried to calm his nerves and encouraged him, “I know you’re tired, baby, but please just a little more. Could you do that for me?”

You ask softly as he nodded at you. He gathered as much as energy as he can, his celestial radiance intensified, pushing back against the looming darkness.

The crowd below watched with bated breath as the clash of flight and attack unfolded.

The Dragon Duel had reached a crescendo, the clash of shadows and celestial radiance weaving a mesmerizing tapestry in the skies above Syndril. However, as the intensity of the battle grew, an unseen force intervened.

The authorities of the Wings academy, recognizing the escalating magical energies and potential consequences, decided to halt the duel for the safety of all involved.

“Cease the duel, right away!”

A resounding voice echoed through the arena, as you and Jungkook momentarily caught in the ebb and flow of the magical currents, reluctantly reined in your dragons, their energies already subdued but still resonating with the remnants of the fierce battle.

“This clash of powers has reached a level of intensity that poses a threat to the safety of the participants and spectators, so we have to dismiss the game at this very moment.” As the principal of your academy announced.

As the authorities assessed the situation, a magical barrier shimmered into existence, enveloping the arena. It served not only to contain the remnants of the magical energies but also to signal the temporary halt of the sports day.

Jungkook and you, both atop your respective dragons, when you shared a glance with him, you clearly saw a mixture of frustration and anger in it. You shrug it off as you saw a representative of the authorities stepped forward, addressing the dragon riders and the assembled audience.

“The Dragon Duel shall be temporarily suspended. We will assess the situation, ensuring the safety of all involved. Further instructions will be provided once we are confident in resuming the event.”

In the ethereal expanse of Syndril, where dragons painted the skies with hues of mystique, the art of dragon riding was a privilege bestowed upon the chosen few, a regal tapestry woven for the noble and royal alike. The intertwining destinies of rider and dragon transcended mere power, forming a sacred covenant that echoed through the ages.

In the middle of Syndril’s heart, there stood a grand place called the ‘Dragon Keep’, a living testament to the ancient bond shared between the realm’s sovereigns and the winged custodians that adorned the heavens.

Throughout the annals of history, dragons have been formidable companions on the battlefield, their majestic forms serving as both a symbol of power and a devastating force. Since ancient times, these mythical creatures have been harnessed as instruments of war, their scales reflecting the glint of conquest and their breath embodying the fire of conflict.

But, as the time goes, dragons become companion and more of a friends to the humans as the bond between two becomes more strong.

In Syndril, the training of dragons was a vital necessity rooted in the intricate balance of power, protection, and tradition. But, only the nobles were allowed to have a companion such as mystical creature.

To provide such directions and train the dragon in a proper manner, the ancient of this land made a dragon rider academy named ‘wings academy’, where people from royal blood and noble families can train and study with their dragons.

There are few reputed dragon houses in the kingdom, famous for their Excelled skills and magnificent magic, from the ancient, these are the elite houses which has been serving this kingdom from ages.

Each of this houses carries unique abilities and distinct attributes that contributed to the kingdom’s intricate tapestry.

The first one is Eythor from the house Shadowthrone, famous for its mastery over shadows and illusions, possessed a unique and elusive power. Its ability to manipulate darkness and create intricate illusions made it a formidable force in both stealth and strategic deception. Ruled by the Jeons, highest member of the royal council. It is rumored that the only people who build this entire Kingdom and found out about it was, The Vilothorn’s and Jeon’s.

Next one is known as the house of stoneheart, famous for possessing the power of earthquake and stone manipulation, ruled by Kim’s.

The house of inferno is famous for harnessing the power of heat manipulation. There ability has become a relentless force of searing destruction on the battlefield, ruled by Park’s.

In contrast to the previous house, the house of Frostland is famous for its capability to freeze opponents with its breath and control ice in various forms, ruled by Min’s.

The house of Skydancers ruled by Jung’s, has the ability to dominate the skies with its mastery over air manipulation and flight agility.

And, once-extinct dragon, has been reborn again, now found by a commoner girl. Asterlith’s wings were said to carry the very essence of celestial realms, now under the care of you. A creature emerged with scales that radiated with the brilliance of a thousand constellations became a living testament to the resurgence of magic and the rekindling of ancient bonds between dragon kind and those destined to ride upon their majestic backs, and now, you become one of them.

A commoner in the academy where she will study alongside other aristocrats were something not acceptable. ‘only the noble are allowed to ride a dragon’ was like a tradition which now has been broken by you.

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, Wings academy has been a fortress of nobility for centuries. This departure from tradition may disrupt the delicate balance that has safeguarded our realm.” Lord Liam voiced his concern in front of the gathered noble in the chambers of Syndril’s royal court.

Lord Jeon, the most trusted component of king Leo and an expert diplomat interjected, “Yet, Your Majesty, the magic that binds ___ and Asterlith is undeniably potent, not to mention that she is the chosen one by Asterlith himself. Are we to dismiss the weaving of destiny itself?”

Conflicting ideologies echoed through the walls of the royal court as each person tried to justify their opinion. Some nobles, entrenched in their adherence to tradition, cast disapproving glances, while others, inspired by the possibility of a new era, nodded in silent approval.

A decision was reached—a groundbreaking one that defied the norms of Syndril. King Leo then announced that everyone must accept this new norm and welcome you into the, once only for the nobles, Wings academy. You, the common girl, would be permitted to study at the Royal Dragon Rider School alongside the nobility was the new rule passed through out the kingdom.

But, you weren’t warmly welcomed by the other students at the school neither.

You found yourself facing the cold glares and condescending whispers of those who clung tightly to the rigid norms of Syndril. The nobility, accustomed to a lineage that stretched across generations, viewed your presence as a disruption to their established order.

Despite that, you continue your training regardless. At least, those insults weren’t as unbearable as Jeon Jungkook.

The second son of Jeon house, Jungkook, a formidable presence in the mystic realm of Syndril’s, is an embodiment of unparalleled power and prowess.

Jungkook’s physical prowess is akin to a tempest, an unstoppable force that commands attention.

His martial skills, honed through rigorous training, transform him into a living weapon.

His strategic acumen, a calculated dance of intellect and intuition, adds a layer of sophistication to his formidable persona.

Not only talented but, Jungkook is a magnetic paradox himself, a living canvas painted with ink and adorned with piercings that echo the rhythm of rebellion.

His onyx locks, a rebellious dance against tradition, frame a countenance that carries the weight of both legacy and defiance.

With a set of piercing eyes, a deep brown that reflects both determination and a hint of arrogance, Jungkook’s gaze is both intense and captivating. His brow piercings increases the intensity of his gaze even more.

Upon his strong arms, a tapestry of tattoos unfolds, each design a narrative etched in ink- The motifs, stark against his fair skin, trace the contours of muscles that hint at a strength not easily contained.

Beneath the hardened exterior, however, lingers the paradox of a “baby-faced” warrior. Jungkook’s soft features, though sculpted by the passage of time and the rigors of dragon rider training, retain a youthful charm that defies the graveness of his responsibilities.

Here, Jungkook writes a story of contrasts, where tradition and rebellion dance together in a spellbinding harmony.

Yet, him being loved by almost the whole population of the kingdom, you found yourself loathing him.

The animosity that grew between you two, emerged from a combination of conflicting backgrounds, divergent ideologies, and a clash of personalities.

Jungkook carried the weight of familial expectations and traditions. His reserved demeanor and arrogant nature often set him apart, earning him both respect and an air of intimidation.

You, on the other hand, hailed from more humble origins, your ascent to the esteemed academy marked by determination and an unyielding spirit.

You both fought for recognition in the academy, often led to arguments marked by sharpe words, competitive duels, palpable tension and mutual hatred for each other.

The hatred grew over the years as well as the thick sexual tension between you two. The irresistible attraction you both feel towards each other is unexplainable but not-so-hidden either.

The aftermath of the halted Dragon Duel left the arena in an eerie silence, the tension was thick in the air.

As, all the students got dismissed by the school authorities, everyone stared entering the school and going back to their respective dorms.

You were walking alone as usual towards your dorm when you heard a very familiar and annoying voice of the male you hate so much, “This intervention was unnecessary. We could have settled it ourselves.”

Jungkook, his usually reserved demeanor now tinged with visible annoyance, broke the silence at last. His voice reverberates through out the hollowed hallway, making everyone pause in their movements.

You, equally agitated, responded sharply, “Your arrogance is truly astounding, Jungkook. The authorities stepped in to prevent a catastrophe, something you seem oblivious to.”

The venom In your voice evident and not much hidden from anyone present there. People gathered around you, saw the argument unfolding in front of them.

Jungkook’s patience worn thin, he retorted, “You act as if you know everything. This clash was an inevitable part of our training. We can’t shield ourselves from every challenge!”

He was being absurd with whatever statement he was stating. His pride was taking a toll on his thinking ability clearly.

You were beyond annoyed with his obliviousness when you shot back, “Training, yes. But, not at the risk of endangering everyone around us. Your recklessness is a danger, and it reflects poorly on House Shadowthrone.”

You heard a few gasps around you, people were surprising with your choice of words. You saw their eyes gone wide upon hearing you pulling house shadowthrone into this argument.

Jungkook was enraged, if he wasn’t a human but a dragon, he should have breathed fire and burned you to the ashes once and for all.

He snapped back, “You act as If your celestial ideals make you infallible. This interruption only proves your inability to handle the challenges and run away from them. I chose the perfect name for you, didn’t I? Phoenix? Rise from the ashes without any ability and prowess–,” he stepped a bit closer to you, burning holes into your face with his Sharpe eyes as he said, “You belong to the slums and should stay there.”

His insulting words pierced through your heart and ignites a intense rage which you were unable to handle, “I’m not afraid of challenges, Jeon Jungkook from the house of Shadowthrone.” You said mockingly, “I just refuse to let arrogance and recklessness guide my actions unlike you. We must be responsible for the consequences of our powers.”

Soon, the onlookers, divided by loyalties, began to interject with verbal insults and jeers. A supporter of Jungkook, emboldened by the mounting tension, shouted, “Jungkook’s strength lies in action, not in empty words and celestial theatrics. Your ideals won’t protect us when the real challenges come.”

People found amusement in them as they begun to laugh at you. You were standing alone there, with no one by your side but yourself, helpless but still defending yourself.

You countered with determination, "Strength without responsibility is a liability, not an asset. We need more than brute force to navigate the complexities of our calling."

You heard a ‘tsk’ from Jungkook as he kept on glaring at you. The voices in favor of Jungkook gained momentum, echoing sentiments of tradition and House Stonethrone storied legacy.

You saw Ivy Drakaron, one of the nobles who happened to be your fellow classmate, smirking at your direction and quite enjoying you being insulted in front of thousands of people, whispering provocative remarks to those around her and laughing along with it.

“Your supposed ‘responsibility’ is nothing but an excuse for your lack of prowess. Syndril needs dragon riders who can face challenges head-on, not ones who cower behind ideals.” Jungkook spits venom from his mouth at you, and this time, it was enough for him to break your hard exterior which you were maintaining carefully and brought tears to your eyes.

With glossy eyes, you glare at his direction and this time, he looked quite surprised and speechless.

Kim Namjoon, senior of yours, belongs to the house of Stoneheart attempted to mediate, stepped forward, “Calm down, both of you, Jungkook and ____. Our unity is paramount, and personal disputes must not undermine the cohesion of Syndril’s dragon riders.”

He had always been the mediator whenever you two started quarrelling in the middle of nowhere. Being the president of the student community, he had all the abilities to be the perfect leader, still, you both made him afraid with your intense fights, so much so that he became tired. He referred himself to an old man because, according to him, he will soon become bald, if he had to continue taking care of you two anymore.

You thought, he might stop with his hateful remarks after seeing your cracked demeanor, it was clear that you were hurt but he didn’t stopped. Jungkook, unwilling to yield, shot a disdainful look at you, "Unity does not mean blind conformity. Your idealistic notions jeopardize the very essence of our training."

“And your recklessness jeopardizes lives. I won’t compromise the safety of our dragon rider community for the sake of your misguided ideals.”

Before the tears descended from your gaze, you departed, no longer willing to endure the ceaseless barrage of disparagement.

You were alone in the library at night, when you sensed an elusive presence that stirred the tranquil air.

It wasn't that the library was open at night, you often snuck in there from a secret path, finding the atmosphere of the silently library amusing, it became one of your nightly endeavours.

The muted glow of lanterns cast intricate shadows on the ancient bookshelves, creating an ambiance that heightened your awareness.

As you delicately turned the pages of an age-worn tome, the subtle rustle of paper seemed to echo louder in the stillness… An inexplicable awareness tingled at the nape of your neck, compelling you to glance over your shoulder.

Despite the initial surprise after seeing the figure that stepped into the pool of dim light, you decided to mask any reaction, adopting an air of nonchalance.

Because, you knew who it was.

You continued your perusal of the ancient tome, deliberately chose to ignore his presence.

Jungkook, sensing the deliberate indifference, cleared his throat as he leaned on the table in front of him.

You just gave a quick glance at his direction before continue your reading. You saw Jungkook’s eyes aglow with the flickering candlelight, he looked…handsome. You might fall in love if it weren’t for his arrogant nature.

“Seems like you’re quite fond of conversing with seniors. Is that how commoners like to elevate their status?”

There he goes again. Why can’t he keep his mouth shut?

Wait…why he is asking that?

It’s nothing like you both share a loving relationship, far from that. You both hated each other but despite the hatred, the burning desire and the tentative lust for each other was unexplainable.

The magnetic pull that neither of you could deny, at last gave in.

The first time he fucked you was the time, when you came in the second position of your test.

The rule was simple. The winner must take the lead.

It was quite exquisite seeing Jeon Jungkook squirming under your touch when you tied him up and kept him on the edge until he was begging underneath you, because he lost to you in a game of chess.

It was only this ‘physical’ relationship between you two besides the rivalry. So, why he sounded… jealous?

Nonetheless, you were quite enjoying it when you donned a smirk in response to Jungkook’s probing gaze. “Oh, didn’t realize my choice of conversation partners was under such intense scrutiny –,”

You moved towards the bookshelf beside Jungkook to grab an another ancient tome as you continued, “Namjoon? Just discussing the intricacies of life, you know, the stuff that doesn’t make it into noble conversations.” your words, laced with sarcasm, floated through the library.

You did had a conversation with Namjoon earlier, about the incident that happened before. He was worried about you. So, it was a normal decent conversation.

“ –also he was worried about my wellbeing.” You said as your fingers idly tracing the spines of the books. The calmness in your tone unwittingly added fuel to the simmering fire.

Jungkook’s jaw tenses, he retorted, “Seems like you’re building quite the support system among the nobles, ____.”

His constant insults only proves your theory further more, “It’s called having friends, Jeon Jungkook. Maybe you should try it sometime.” You subtly threw a smirk at his way before minding your own business.

This time, when you tried to move away from the spot you were standing, you felt a strong arm pulling you backwards.

“What friendship, ____? Where you fuck them?” His face was closer to yours, his warm breath hitting your face. You looked up at him and saw a intensity in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

“Why do you care? Huh?” You stood firm on your toes, “That’s .None. Of. Your. Business!”

“It is. Because, I’m the only one who fucks you.”

He clenched his jaw, a subtle tension lingered in the air. You didn’t knew why he was acting the way he was acting, so you tried to push your body away from him.

It wasn't like it’s any of his business. You can have any kind of relationship with anyone, he was no one who could tell you otherwise. His oddly possessive behavior made you irritated further more.

“J- Jungkook –,” You tried to pull your hand out of his grip and pushed him back. Your hand was on his chest, you felt his muscles tenses under your touch, “–let go of my hand.”

Instead of doing that, he pushed your back onto the table beside you, caging your hands behind your back as your butt hit the edge of the table.

He didn’t said anything, just looked at your eyes with the same intensity and something your couldn’t decipher.

“Let me go!” You whisper-shouted at him.

“Kiss me and I will.”

You eyes widened at his words as you saw a devilish smirk on his face. He was clearly messing up with you. You pushed against him again, but he settled his one leg in between your thighs, further confining you in that position.

“Fuck off!” You retorted, annoyance etching your words.

In response, he countered with a smoldering gaze, “I shall if you ask nicely.”

His face more closer to yours, lips brushing against each other and the leg between your thighs slightly grind against your throbbing cunt, making you whimper in the process.

You didn’t held back yourself anymore as you smacked your lips on his.

As your lips collided, an intricate ballet of conflicting emotions played out. You sucked on his lips harder, so much so that it might leave brushes behind but he didn’t restricted you.

You heard him growl under his breath when you latched on his lower lip and pulled it down with your teeth.

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help yourself. It was like you were hypnotized.

“I hate you.” You said in-between the kiss and he instantly responded, “The feelings are mutual.”

The intensity of the kiss grew even more when he grabbed your one leg, wrapping it around his waist. You could feel his boner right against you.

You grind on it, eliciting a hiss from him, moaning when you feel him growing harder underneath those clothes.

He deepened the kiss further, pushing further into your body. His hands comes down to your butt as he squeezes it.

Both of your tongue moved in a symphony, making you weak on your knees.

Then you did something. You grabbed his long locks in attempt to push in your tongue inside of his mouth but, in return, you received a harsh slap on your ass, along with a bite on your lower lip.

“Don’t even try, love.”

The moan that escaped from your mouth should be illegal, because the way Jungkook’s cock twitched and jumped in respond to that made him moan into your mouth.

You feel a gush of arousal approaching just from the name he called you. You knew he called you that mockingly but the things it does to you…it would rather be better if no one knows about that.

Pulling your head backwards by your hair, he started kissing your neck , leaving trails of colorful masterpieces on his way.

A reminder for you about your secret, which no one knows but you, the walls of these library and the man sucking your tits.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.” The sounds you were making, was obscene. He twirls his tongue around your hardened bud, harshly sucking on it. Two of his fingers makes its way towards your throbbing pussy.

“You aren’t wearing any panties?” You didn’t understand why he was in disbelief. It’s night time, so, wasn't it obvious?

“Yes, because I was going to bed, you stupi–,” you gasped when he suddenly pushed his one finger inside, making you clench around it.

“Watch your mouth, love, or I might shut you up with something else.”

That jerk!

Before you could threw some insulting remarks towards him, he turned you around abruptly and made you spread your leg wide. You found support on the table in front of you, as you gripped on the edges of it for some support.

He pulled your nightgown all the way up to your waist. You couldn’t saw him in the dim light, but you felt the heat of his burning desire.

The library's dim light cast shadows that played upon the canvas of your unspoken desires.

You felt his fingers on your thighs as they tentatively draw patterns on your smooth skin, as he kissed your inner thighs, making you shut your eyes from the overwhelming sensations.

When you did looked back, you saw Jungkook on his knees as he fondle your ass feverously, his intense gaze focused on your soaking pussy.

“Wandering around like this? You are a little slut, aren’t you?” You mewl when he placed a kiss on your clit, so soft that you just felt the ghost of his lips but it was enough for you to threw your head back.

Without a warning, he started sucking you clit, twirling his tongue all over your cunt as if he just found his favorite desert.

“My little slut, only mine. Right, love?”

He was settled in between you thighs, both your legs on his shoulder.

When you look down on him, he was smirking at you while devouring your pussy like a starve man.

The subtle eye contact ignited something in you, he made you feel things you shouldn’t felt. The forbidden sense of this makes it more appealing as you couldn’t help but drawn to the this unspoken game of lust and desire.

You screw your eyes shut, gripping the table as you prepare yourself for the upcoming orgasm.

He brought his fingers to your clit and started rubbing it in a crisscross way while his tongue goes inside of you, fucking you on his tongue.

As soon as that hot muscle entered, you moaned out his name, unable to control yourself, your essence dripping all over his mouth as he kept on rubbing and tugging your clit with his fingers while his tongue explores your warm walls as he found that spot which made your brain numb.

And, he knew it.

He smirked when you gripped on his men bun, shoved his face further into pussy as you grind on his face, desperately chased you release.

He kept on hitting that spot until you were a whimpering mess, but as soon as he felt your orgasm approaching, he pulled back altogether.

The whine that escaped your mouth was desperate. Embarrassing. But, you didn’t care.

“What the fuck?”

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

Asshole.

He wanted you to admit, to submit to him. Admitting that you’re his, had always been a struggle for you. Why would you though, when you weren’t his? You never understood his obsession with making you admitting that.

It must be some sick power play for him, you thought.

“I’m not saying it, because I’m not yours.” You firmly stated, glaring down at him.

His eyes further hardened from the previous half lidded one, “Let’s see for how long you can stick to that.”

Again he goes back to his work, this time more rougher than before.

Every time, you came closer to your release, he pulled back and made you squirm in his hold.

At the last thrust of his tongue, you cried out, your cries resonated through out the empty hall of the library. You instantly slapped your hand over your mouth.

“Come on, love. Say it if you want to cum.”

He was determined about leaving you then and there, hot and messy with your dripping cunt if you weren’t tell him the words he wanted to heard. His stubbornness and competitive nature wasn’t anything new to you.

He again brought his hand to your abused pussy, but this time, he put his fingers in it while sucking on your pulsating bud, occasionally tugging and biting the bundle of nerves, making you go insane.

“Fuck. Please, please Jungkook, let me c-cum,”

You voice was whiney, your broken cries made his cock twitch in his pants once again, making him growl into your heat.

“Then say it –,” He smacked your ass, his teeth dragging all over your throbbing clit before tugging and sucking on it harshly, “Say that you’re mine.”

You gripped onto his hair, tugged on it as your thighs stared trembling along with your whole body, you were close.

This time, you gave up.

You pleaded to him, chasing your release once again.

“No no, O-okay, please I’m yours, I’m yours, jus–Just lemme cum.”

“Then, cum for me but look at me when you do. I wanna see your face”

You obliged without any obligations. You looked down at him, staring into his eyes as you saw his brows pinched together as his lips attached to your clit, while thrusting his fingers inside you as you cum around them, made them soaking wet with your essence, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he watched your blessed out face with a smile on his face.

He didn’t stop though, until he drunk all of that you gave to him, slurping your essence, leaving you dry.

He was back on his toes as he turned you around. Your legs still trembling from the intense orgasm and overstimulation, he held you, encircled his hand around your waist and made you sit on top of the table.

You could see his face glistering with your essence, shining under the dim light, his piercing eyes staring at your soul as you saw he licked his lips with his half-lidded eyes and tousled hair from you gripping and tugging on it.

He was so hot that you didn’t knew if you wanted to kill him or kiss him.

He made it easier as he put his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence of off it, then pulling you into a kiss.

An electric charge rushes through you as it seemed to dance across every inch of your body. You gasped, when you tasted your own cum on your tongue.

You were out of breath when he detached his lips from yours, both of you tried to breath in some air while you thought what the fuck you just did?

When he tried to caress your cheeks, you pushed him back, made him bewildered in the process.

“I-I have to leave.” You stumbled a bit on your steps but caught yourself before he could reach out.

“____...” It was surprisingly…tender, almost affectionate. It made you wonder if he genuinely felt remorse, maybe guilt?

“What went down earlier shouldn’t have, and I get that I said some hurtful things. But…honestly, if you weren’t mentioned my house, I wouldn’t have gone there and– I hope you know that…”

Oh, the irony! Expecting an apology from him?

His pride soared too high to grasp your emotions. He didn’t even considered the things he said to you, the things you had to heard because of him, how much you had to suffer.

Yes, you truly despise him and he is the reason behind that.

As you kept on walking out of the library, not sparing a glance back at him, unwilling to linger in the aftermath of his intensity.

“You are a fucking jerk, Jeon Jungkook and I hope you know that.”

The damage was done, and the scars of his callousness lingered.

Note: Let me know your thoughts on this and also, help me out with making the decision about if I should make this into a series or not. Like, is it worth it? Please let me know!!

#jungkook imagine #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bts #jungkook e2l au #fic: rivals in flight #jksian🤍

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toorurs · 1 month

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wish you were sober

synopsis: in which you drunkenly confess to aventurine and he doesn’t believe you, rather believing that he’s not worthy, less even deserving of your love. despite that, his insecurity, you're under the belief that aventurine deserves all the love in the world. love - something that you want to introduce to him and show him “what it means to love you.”

pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 2.3k (i’ve gone insane) | content & warnings: hurt/comfort, alcohol; they're both drunk, insecure aventurine, unestablished relationship, they label themself as friends but reader barely knows anything abt him LMFAO, dual pov, DO YALL GET THE REFERENCE IN THE SYNOPSIS LMFAO??, rushed ending icl, half assed-ly proofread; oneshot

a/n: yesterday i listened to wish you were sober by conan gray and was like “damn.. this’d fit sunday” but then i asked azul what he thinks cause i couldn’t decide between su**day and <aventurine3. and they replied with that it’d be so much more angsty with aventurine (okay not quote on quote but you get the msg) and i dislike su**ay anyway!! so boom! (y’all are still getting another sunday fic..yay..ig.....)

tags: beloved @azullumi <3 and @cherieiu (stop punching me)

“i love you.”

your confession doesn't come over as surprising for aventurine, he anticipated it. just like how the ebb awaits the flood, yearning for it but disappearing as soon as it arrives. missing out on each other for just a split second, as the other party sweeps and slips away from the grasp of the other. nevertheless aventurine is glued to his seat on the rich sofa.

colorful poker chips are splattered around the rich mahogany floor tiles, bottles of vodka and wine, some already with their cork removed and empty, others who haven't even been opened yet. a chandelier adorning the ceiling of the big room, its lightbulbs glowing dimly in the caliginous room, illuminating it.

one of the lamps flickers while the others continue to shine brightly - too brightly aventurine thinks, if he were to watch them any longer he’d feel like melting. the closer he got to you the sun, the deeper he'd fall into the bottomless pit he managed to crawl out of.

the room reeks of alcohol. is the temperature rising? he feels like every time the last number on the digital clock changes the warmer it gets. his blond bangs stick to his forehead and beads of sweat are running down his flushed cheeks - that answers his question.

it’s hot - humid even. he's not sure if he's able to bear the heat in this narrow atmosphere any longer. he tries to blow the sweat away by waving at his face with his hand, trying to cool off his face - a futile attempt. god, what's this a/c even good for, if it can't do it's damn job.

he opens his mouth with the intent of wanting to say that you're lying, that you shouldn't say stuff like that when you're drunk and that you'll regret later. but he doesn't, he refrains from doing so. instead he gulps down the words immediately, letter for letter. they're a bitter pillow to swallow. flowing down his throat like the wavering water running down a stream - intoxicating, similar to the alcoholic liquid you've downed.

the blond looks at you through half lidded eyes. you lift yourself off the ground, he takes notice that you have a hard time doing so, legs slightly trembling as you remove them from the floor tiles. (you've always been a lightweight he thinks)

as you make your way over to him, standing up and wanting to sit yourself next to him on the large black leather sofa. you clumsily bump against one of the almost empty shot glasses that still lies on the floor. tripping over the small glass as your foot comes in contact with it. the glass that still contained some of the red wine you've poured in, not too long ago, tumbles as easily as a domino tile, falling upon the smallest touch. making the flimsy piece immediately meet the ground.

it breaks into a few sharp shards and the remaining alcohol starts seeping out of it, staining your once white socks with crimson colored alcohol. “ah m’sorry!” you mumble as you quickly bend down to gingerly pick up the fragments, placing them in the palm of your hand carefully, so that they won't cut you and leave slits.

aventurine takes another peek at you as you tidy up. your face is flushed, your cheeks tinted in a bright red and you let out incoherent sorrys, blabbering incomplete phrases. he wants to tell you that it's alright. that he feels the same and reciprocates yours feelings, that you don't have to apologize and he'll help you.

but he freezes.

the words that he wants to tell you, the ones he's been longing to say don't leave his mouth. neither does he move. instead he coughs, continuing to watch you while you clean up. a tissue has found its way into your right hand, helping you soak up the alcohol. (its his hand that should be intertwined with yours, not the tissue)

his throat hurts.

(he's not in the right mindspace to acknowledge if it's because of you - the unsaid words that he didn't reveal to you yet or because of the alcohol.)

it's dry and lacks any kind of refreshing liquid that'd quench the drought that occurs in his throat. he contemplates, thinking about the choices he has. swallowing down his own spit isn't worth it, it makes his throat burn even more.

he comes to the decision to pour himself another glass of alcohol. (debatably his worst decision until now.)

twirling the almost translucent liquid in his glass, before fully gulping it down in one go. a bit of the alcohol escapes the depths of his mouth, running down his chin and messily staining his porcelain-like skin.

he doesn't like the bitter taste, he can't seem to befriend himself with it. (neither can he befriend him with himself) although it's not the worst, he's just not able to find a reason to like it. after all, after a single sip it starts to sting as it enters his mouth.

the scent isn't great either, it smells strong, too strong for his liking, a scent that reeks of cleaning detergent and not to mention, it prickles on his tongue and burns as it slides down his throat when it makes its way into his blood. but there's one thing aventurine can't deny: it's efficiency.

it fulfills its purpose well making him lightheaded and dizzy, to the point of forgetting everything.

all sounds are drowned out. even the lame pop songs playlist you turned on because you insisted that “it'll set the right mood” is barely audible for him now. his ears hurt hellish, he wants to put his hands over his ears to escape the white noise. the sound that plays in his ears is similar to the one of when an airplane starts boarding - an unpleasant noise.

the only sound that remains for aventurine’s slightly drunk state is your voice. it echoes through his ears. your drunk confession playing over and over in his mind like a broken record, anticipating the day it'll be fixed, so the misery it is in ceases.

his sloppy and sluggish movements - the way his hands tremble as he pours himself another glass, the nervousness that forms inside his body and the blush that spreads as quickly as a wildfire on his cheeks - they're tormenting him, and he blames none other than the alcohol for it.

“a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, drunk words are sober thoughts, when you're drunk you reveal your true desires” his ass. the both of you are just friends. friends that are acquainted through work, nothing more, nothing less. aventurine couldn't bear to lose his only friend, after all he's already lost everything.

(anything he'd never want to lose will eventually be lost. it is as if fate had decided that everything that is worth wanting, everything that he wants to have and keep, will be lost the moment he gets his fingers on it. to aventurine there’s nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life that is full of anguish.)

his father whom he never got to meet, his mother and sister whom he was forced to leave behind and kakavasha, his younger self. all will be lost - everything was lost. if he wasn't careful now, one slip up on the thin ice or feet accidentally trampling over the floor full of eggshells, he'd not only lose himself in the process, but you too. his one and only friend.

crossing this line he set for himself, as he drew it along the earthy ground with his calloused fingers, trembling as they traced over the mud.

walking past the border that was created to keep everything and everyone distant from him, as he stood on the other side turning his back from the world, walking away and waving, to bid his goodbye from them.

the wall he built around him to shield him from the world, protecting everyone from the ugly thing that was kept inside , protecting himself from the people that only want to torment him.

forgetting all of these things, leaving them behind for you would mean showing you who he really was. a frail human being that hides himself behind a mask. the theater curtains revealing the person who played the role of the man who had called himself aventurine for the past years. placing him in the spotlight and giving the audience a show they'll never forget, like the fool he is.

aventurine doesn't think that he is loveable, that he's undeserving of love - your love.

you think that aventurine deserves all the love in the world. providing him with said love, embracing him and showing him how pure love can be.

the blond caught your eye right away. he was charming, funny and handsome. aventurine turned into your little work crush, your motivation to convince yourself just to see him.

the road was rocky and full of obstacles, set up by none other than aventurine. it gave you a better perception of who he really was and it intrigued you even more. why does he hide himself away from the world? why does he convince himself to not get anyone close to him even though he longs for the touch of another person? who is aventurine, really?

you can't answer any of these questions and neither are you certain if aventurine really can but that doesn't stop you. you continue to climb up all the way to know who he is, who the person you fell in love with really is.

love, is weird isn't it? it comes in all different shapes and forms.

if someone were to ask you why you like him, you wouldn't know how to answer, because neither do you know.

but nevertheless you still like him. why? how come you like someone that you don't even know, someone that is foreign to you, almost like a stranger. even though the both of you label yourself as “friends.”

you're not sure what the color is that infuses his irises, he keeps them hidden beneath his glasses. despite that, you long to stare into his eyes and let all the plain and dull parts of your life get painted in the same colors of his hues. a color that brings you comfort and cures your sorrow. it's the hues that you want to stare at as you tuck a golden strand of hair behind his ear, in return he grants you a small but genuine smile.

a smile that you want to see more often, one that you want to keep for yourself.

as for his scent, every person has their own unique and special scent. you plead to the gods above that he’ll let you bury your head into the crook of his neck and absorb his smell so it becomes the only scent that lingers around your nose.

there are so many more things that you want to know about him but you're unaware of. one might say that you're odd for liking - no, loving someone that you barely know.

a stranger, a foreign person whom you know little about to almost nothing about, is the person that you love. absurd isn't it? but love is weird, love can be pure and ridiculous, but it can also be painful and heart wrenching. love is a feeling that not only brings joy to oneself but also causes pain. but it's a feeling that you never want to get rid of - not until you introduced aventurine to it. showing him what love has to offer and has in store.

in the iridescent light aventurine remains to look as ethereal as ever. a scent of vodka lingers around aventurines figure, the smell is strong, but you couldn't care less. his hair is disheveled but nevertheless continues to shine in the dazzling light. he lets out a tiring yawn and you couldn't imagine aventurine any more beautiful than in this moment.

vulnerable and for your eyes only. making it unable for you to tear your gaze away from the sight before you.

he's like a shooting star, if you don't continue to watch and follow it and blink, even if it's just for a single moment - it's all over and you'll never see it again.

“stop looking at me like that.” aventurine mumbles quietly, almost whispering. upon hearing that, you make your way over to him, glass shards long forgotten as you place them on the small coffee table in front of the sofa.

your arms reach out to aventurine, clutching your hands on his shoulders. your grip is sluggish but you don't falter and continue to hold him. “like what?” your lips are slightly parted and your gaze is drowsy as you counter aventurine's question with a question of your own.

“like that.” he placed the hand that just rested on his thigh, on your cheek, slightly caressing it. “you're just gonna hurt the both of us if you keep this up any longer.” he's not sure where the boldness came from, he blames it on the alcohol once again; it finally seemed to kick in.

“‘m not lying” you hiccup. tomorrow i’ll tell you how much i love you, no matter if it's once” a cough exits your throat “or a hundred times.” the words that leave your mouth are slurred, they're incoherent and muddled up. your grip on his shoulder weakens, hands slipping off and head falling against his chest.

..did you seriously just black out?

aventurine can only sigh at that. a small smile finds its way onto his face. he snakes his arms around you waist, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck and hugging you with the remaining power he had left before falling asleep. guess there'll be a lot to unpack tomorrow but for now he allows himself to indulge in this shared moment between the two of you.

e/n: hope yall enjoyed this as much as i hated writing this!! (i wanted to throw up) i acc hate how i wrote this. it's not as choppy as when i started writing it but it still feels so rushed and so idk.. anyway reblogs with comments are very much appreciated! >< ALSO that one paragraph written in brackets..guess whose speech it was inspired byyyyy (hint: bsd!!)

#toorurs #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #hsr aventurine #aventurine hsr #aventurine x reader #aventurine fluff #aventurine angst #aventurine imgines #aventurine headcanons #hsr imagines #honkai star rail imagines #hsr headcanons

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literaila · 6 months

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i’ll tell you in the morning

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

“you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

warnings: overly considerate peter, scheming reader, fluff and stuff

“you’re supposed to be in bed.”

his voice rolls, like a click on a cassette, and you know that peter is not really there.

because it’s all a little blurry. his voice, the door opening, the feeling when he kneels down next to you, his breath hot in your ear.

it’s all some remanent of a dream. a brief moment where you might wake up, but decide not to.

“i’m serious,” his voice ebbs and flows, waving in and out, like your consciousness. “you know i don’t like it when you wait up for me.”

you groan and roll even further into the couch. your face is smushed, and your hair is a mess, sweaty because you’re drowning under every blanket in the house. it smells like cotton, and peter’s deodorant, and potato chips that you probably dropped through the cushions.

you dig your nose in deeper, trying to get back to that dream.

peters probably not actually there, you think, because if he was he would’ve kissed you awake. his hand would be lazily running through your hair, and his body would be pressed against yours. you would be cuddling by now.

real peter is much nicer than dream peter, who shakes your shoulder, albeit massaging you right afterward. “c’mon, bug, we’re going to bed.”

“sleeping,” you mumble, pulling away from him.

dream peter continues to try and wake you up, while you wonder—amidst the dream, no doubt—when real peter will be home. you want to be drowning in his collarbone instead of your own sweat.

there’s a kiss next to your ear. “you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

“we’ll see if you’re saying that in the morning, when your neck is bent the wrong way,” he whispers, and rests his head against yours. you feel it as he breathes out, relaxes. almost like he’s purring into your ear.

so you keen into him, a bit awkwardly, considering that it’s his forehead. “why’d you wake me up?”

“you can’t sleep here.”

“c’mere,” you murmur to him, your hand wrapping around the back of his neck, fingertips just brushing his hair. “cuddle with me.”

“being cute isn’t going to stop me from moving you.”

“peter,” you try and push him away, “go to bed.”

“why are you out here?” his nose trails down your hair, to your neck. “it’s almost four in the morning.”

you ponder this, and decide that you don’t really remember what you were doing before you fell asleep here, with your hand shoved in the crook of your neck. “the beds cold,” you slur, head falling back into the cushions as you doze.

“that’s because all of the blankets are out here. why didn’t you turn the heat up?”

he’s playing with some baby hair by your ear now, trying to lull you to sleep, probably, because he loves you.

“i was waiting for you,” you whisper this like a prayer, “and now you’re here.”

“you waited in the wrong spot. i would’ve come to bed with you. there’s no room for me here,” he smiles when you finally turn your head towards him. he’s got a smudge on his nose, and his eyes are sunken in—aged from exhaustion.

“i know.”

you’re both whispering. trying not to wake that drowsy, lovesick part of yourself right now.

“hmm?” he leans into you, nose brushing your cheek. almost like he’s breathing you in. “what, bug?”

“i wanted to fall asleep with you.”

then his eyes are wide open, and he leans back, brows furrowed in a tight line. “i told you i was going out.”

you muse at his confused face, and lean back towards him. “i know. i didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“you could’ve called.”

“i’m not going to interrupt your repertoire with a burglar at midnight. it’s rude.”

“not to me.”

you tsk, and lean away, back into the pillow comforting you while simultaneously scheming to ruin your morning.

“you need more sleep than i do,” peter adds, trying to keep you awake with his sheer willpower, his hands squirm under your shoulders. “we’ve talked about this.”

“no, you threatened to tell my mom—“

“that’s not what i said,” peter interrupts, groaning into the sofa.

“that i wasn’t getting enough sleep. and i said that you could make your own decisions, but that i wasn’t going to stop waiting up for you.”

“it makes me feel bad,” he ignores your gentle protesting. “i don’t want to keep you up.”

“peter, it’s not like you’re out dancing with strippers.”

he laughs, unexpectedly. and you grin back at him, with a sheer conviction undiluted by any hints of remaining sleep.

“you’re up helping people. i don’t mind waiting for you,” you emphasize this by leaning in to kiss his forehead, tasting sweat and not minding at all.

“you’re going to be tired tomorrow. when did you fall asleep?”

you acknowledge your win for what it is, and sit up on the couch, looking around your apartment like you can’t remember where you are. “probably an hour ago. i didn’t know when you’d be home, and i waited a while, but then i moved to the couch so you’d have to wake me up if i fell asleep.”

“so this was an elaborate scheme, huh?” peter laughs at you as his teeth graze your cheek. his chaste kiss makes you warm.

“i learned from the best.”

peter chuckles against you, and the two of you sit like that for a moment. calculating each others breathing like there’s something you might miss, however brief.

and then you smile at him, and he smiles back. “bed?” he asks you, softly, fingertip running against the skin of your jaw. you nod.

his arms wrap around you as he picks you up, your head rested comfortably on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist.

“i’m leaving you on the couch next time,” he threatens as he walks, “just so you know.”

“then we’ll both wake up with sore backs. not just you.”

peter snorts. “i didn’t say i would be there.”

“like you can sleep without me.”

he doesn’t say anything to that, but you feel him murmur in your hair suspiciously.

peter sets you down on the bed softly, pushing your legs so you’ll lay down, then covering you with the comforter. he tucks you in like any average middle aged dad.

when you grin he nods, very satisfied with himself.

“i’m just gonna change,” he says, taking a step back.

“hurry. i’m tired.”

“now, look who’s talking,” he shakes his head, but moves swiftly to the bathroom. you hear it as he runs the sink, as he bangs his foot on something and curses, and when he pads back into the bedroom, looking like a young child sneaking out of bed in his pajamas.

you laugh. “where did you get those?”

peter looks down to himself. to the many cartoon styled spider-man’s dancing across his cotton pajama set. “what? this old thing.”

“i don’t think i can be seen in public with you if you’re wearing that.”

“we are in the privacy of our bedroom,” he points out.

“i don’t think i can be in the same room with you if you’re wearing that.”

peter shakes his head, pouting like he’s disappointed, but he slips the shirt off, a concession he’s apparently willing to make.

though you don’t doubt that there are ulterior motives to this move.

“c’mon,” you whine to him, “i’m cold.”

“you’re so needy.”

you roll your eyes, but sink into him as he shuffles from beside you, laying his head near yours. “you’re not coddling me.”

“i’m so very sorry, my dear,” he whispers, and wraps his arms around you.

“shh,” you nuzzle your nose into his neck, and murmur against his hot skin. “i want to go back to the dream i was having.”

peter must be laughing at you, you can tell, even slightly asleep, because something jostles you.

“what was it about?”

you smile against him, listening to his heart like a hymn you’re devoted to. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”

he whispers something, brief, a whisper in the quiet of the room. but you feel the words as he settles into the bed, his calloused hands running over your skin.

and you fall asleep; hands clutching the others heart.

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baccan0pe · 2 years

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#i dont wanna jinx anything but the vibes have been impeccable the past few days #(realisically i know i cant Actually jinx anything bc life. well like is an ebb and flow aint it.#life is always good until its always bad. its like when you have cramps and you dont think ur gonna make it through the next wave of pain #and then you do and its the most blissful relief of your life. except on a big big big scale yknow? its not cramps its LIFE life itself #like glass animals #LMAO #i used to pretend i feared feeling good because i knew it just meant i would eventually feel not good again. but that ruins the mood huh)

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peachesofteal · 1 month

Text

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here

‘C’mon, you never want to go out.”

You rub your temples, eyes closed in exasperation. “I’m broke, Case.”

“I’ll spot you. Come on, it’s Friday. I’ll get us into The Rook.” She pleads and pushes, tugging away your excuses and defenses until you’re backed into a corner with nowhere to run. Finally, you opt for a different tactic, lamely.

“Doesn’t that place have a waiting list?”

“Oh yeah, miles long. But the owner likes me.” The owner. How does she even know the owner of The Rook?

“I don’t know…” you linger, still bent over your tiny kitchen table, back bowed and tired, “isn’t it like, dangerous?”

“The Rook is neutral ground or something, I don’t know. It’s perfectly fine, I’ve been dozens of times.” A litany of stories exists about the speakeasy, from its origins to the current clientele, each as unbelievable as the next, and you’ve always imagined it to be this dark den of sin and debauchery, filled to brim with hitmen and lawlessness. “You have to do something other than work and sleep; you know. You’re missing out on your whole life.” She chides, attempting to launch into the same speech she repeats over and over every few weeks.

“Alright, alright,” you look down at your torn up cuticles and sigh, “I’ll go.”

You weren’t wrong about The Rook being dark.

It’s hollowed out under a club, nooks and crannies and little hallways splitting off in every direction, dim lamps and flickering candlelight casting shadows to the ceiling, bartenders dressed in all black working behind a massive, burnished wood bar along the back wall. Velvet couches, high top tables, overstuff armchairs flow in the space, and Case tells you there are more rooms if you’re keen to explore, explaining in hushed tones how there’s usually a band in one, a card game of sorts in another, a pool table somewhere, all with various styles of seating, and even another bar. It's elegant, decadent, sinful. Most of the people are startlingly beautiful, high heels and skintight dresses, perfectly made-up faces, polished onyx cuff links gleaming against expensive navy suits.

Even the drinks are licentious.

You decidedly do not belong here. Perched on a stool next to Case, you occasionally rub your wrists, casually wondering if it would have been acceptable to wear your braces, your carpal tunnel flaring into a swell of agony.

Wouldn’t that be a sight.

The bartender slides her two generous neat pours of… something, and you raise an eyebrow.

“On the house, from the boss.” He says with a wink, and she tips her head to ceiling with a bubble of a laughter, before pressing one of the tumblers into your hand.

“What is it?”

“Probably bourbon.”

“Oh, no thanks, I don’t-“

“Just shoot it.” She throws it back with ease, showing her teeth afterwards, a hyena leering in the lamplight.

Fuck it. Maybe it will the throbbing in your wrists will quiet down.

It’s thick, syrupy, hot in your throat. Burns all the way down and settles like lava in your stomach, uncomfortable until the sting ebbs into warmth, moving through your bones.

“Not bad.” You rasp, and she smiles.

There are more free drinks. They stick to your insides like tar, slicking you in a heavy cotton, weighing your limbs down, loosening the tension in your neck and shoulders, peeling away your layers of discomfort one by one.

You’re surprised by how at home Case seems in this place, how comfortable she is, smiling and waving to the occasional person, making small talk here and there. She practically floats in her seat, black dress taut against every dimple and dip on her body, hair artfully twisted into something that could be considered modern art. She’s a gazelle. A heron. Something graceful and gorgeous, fine feathered and fabulous.

And you’re… a tired girl in a tired dress, counting her lucky stars that there seem to be so many generous patrons buying drinks tonight.

“Having fun?” She whispers, nudging you with her shoulder.

“How often do you come here?” Her eyes wander, flicking past you and then back, wistful caution etched across her brow.

“Often enough,” She sips her drink and then folds her hands together on the bar top, looking over shoulder, “Most of these people in here… are connected to organized crime somehow.” The information doesn’t surprise you, but hearing it confirmed, knowing it’s not just some story made up, some fairytale about boogeymen, makes you shiver.

“Like, the mafia?”

“The mafia is Italian, but they have a presence in the city.” She shrugs, like it’s all common knowledge. Like you’re out of the loop. “The Rook belongs to Kyle Garrick.” You shake your head, unfamiliar. “Of The 141?” your mouth goes dry.

The 141.

The 141 were a notorious organized crime group who ran half, if not more, of the city. You knew they owned clubs, bars, restaurants, and hotels, but you were never clear on the details of their illegitimate work, and you didn’t want to know.

You knew, for sure: they were men to be feared. Men capable of terrible things. Destruction. Death.

Their ongoing war with The Shadows was the reason the city was soaked in blood.

“Don’t worry,” she rushes out, hand on your arm, “like I said, It’s neutral here. Nothing happens in The Rook.” You nod meekly, head swimming. You’re more than drunk now, stuck in a sloshing ship, floor tilting beneath your feet. The urge to get away, to disappear slams into you like a truck, and you slip off the stool.

“Which way is the bathroom?” She points to one of those dark hallways, and you stumble through the throngs of people like a fresh born fawn, unsteady and teetering on the edge, approaching a hallway that splits into two.

Which way?

You pick one, sure you’ll run into someone who can point you in the right direction, but when it zigs and zags up to a polished wooden door, you stop short, confused. The alcohol has rendered you fuzzy, and your vision spins, trying to look for a recognizable placard.

Is this the bathroom?

It must be.

The first thing you realize when you push the door open, is a chorus of men’s voices, stopping on a dime. You hear them, before you see them, and immediately try to backpedal, tugging the door handle towards you, trying to close it. You’re wayward, with heavy, tired feet, and the movement is slow, slow enough that an opposing force pulls on the other side and then-

rips.

You fly forward into the room, dragged by your grip on the handle, spilling onto your knees with a shocked gasp, and someone curses in the background, another voice barking out a name.

Then, the room goes Sunday church service silent.

You gape at the table of men, transfixed in horror on the two familiar faces staring back at you, the unforgettable Scot and his marble etched partner, who was just in the shop only two days ago. They’re frozen, half risen from their seats, a cigarette burning away in an ash tray filling the air with smoke.

There’s a nickel-plated flash, and your blood curdles.

He has a gun.

“I…” you croak, still on your knees, unable to categorize or rationalize why you’re seeing them here, why one of them has a gun, why any of this is happening. “I’m sorry, I was lo-looking for the bathroom.” There are many men in this room, you realize. More than just the two you’re acquainted with, and your stomach rolls, nausea creeping forward, trying to bring the too many drinks you’ve consumed up through your mouth. “I’m sorry.” You say again, more clearly.

Obviously, you’re interrupting something.

“These aren’t the toilets, little girl.” A Russian voice booms over your head. “Unless you’re going to piss on the floor for us?”

“Nikolai.” The blonde cuts, Manchester accent rougher than sandpaper, and you shake your head frantically.

“N-no, I just got turned around, that’s all.” Your brain screams at you to get up, but your body is immobile, and you look away in fear.

A warm hand takes yours, tanned skin soft and sweet, gentle touch urging your face back up.

“It’s alright, doe. Ye’re alright.” It’s the Scot, crooning in your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you to your feet. “Let’s get ye to the bathroom then, aye?” You lean against him, breathing in cypress and ocean spray, letting him guide you out of the room, his partner right at your back.

“We’re not finished.” Someone calls out, and the bigger man clips out a response.

“We are now.”

#ghoap x reader #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader

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goose8791 · 4 months

Text

Child of the storm

Note: SPOILERS, if you have not read the books. If you know the ending of the lightning thief then this will be fine but if you haven't or don’t want to be spoiled for the ending of the show do not read this. ( I’m looking out for you pookie <3)

pairing: luke castellan x Poseidon Fem!reader

warnings: Arguing, I want you but I can’t have you trope, Angst, kissing

"Hello?" Her voice came through the phone, accompanied by the crackling of static in Luke's ear.

"It's Luke," he responded, pressing his fingers into his tired eyes. Silence met his ears. "The camp is falling apart," he admitted, frustration evident in his tone. "The cabins are at each other's throats, and I'm lost on what to do."

"I know," she sighed on the other end. "Luke, I'm already being dragged into this mess by my dad. He says my brother is on a quest for the master bolt," she explained, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "I didn't even know I had a brother until this morning," she added with a hiss.

Luke's stomach twisted with anger “why are you calling me” The words escaped through her gritted teeth. After a prolonged silence on the line, she finally took a breath.

"Luke, I've been covering for you for months," she admitted, frustration evident in her voice. "And now, my brother—someone I didn't even know existed—seems to be entangled in your idiocy." There was a pause, and Luke remained silent.

"They think he stole it," she seethed, frustration boiling over. "And we both know that's far from the truth." After taking a breath, Luke listened intently. Over ten months had passed since their last conversation or encounter, and he found solace in just hearing her voice. He wanted to savour every syllable that left her mouth.

"Luke," she sighed, a sense of resignation in her tone. "I can't help you. I can't keep doing this. I can't cover for you anymore. You're on your own." As she moved to end the call, panic filled Luke's voice.

"Wait! Please, just listen to me," he pleaded desperately. "NO, Luke, you listen to me. You've gone too far. I was with you from the beginning, but stealing the master bolt... Luke, I've changed, and you haven't," she declared firmly, leaving a pause.

"Meet me at the beach in Jersey," he almost whispered, his voice carrying a sense of urgency and vulnerability. "What?" she questioned, confusion in her tone. "Just do it," he snapped, frustration seeping into his tone. "Please," he added, the desperation in his voice seeping into her ears. She took a moment to consider, the static in the phone creating a deafening backdrop to their strained conversation. "Fine," she agreed, the decision made after a brief pause, and then the line went silent on Luke's end.

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Luke stands on the beach, the gritty sand slipping between his toes as he clutches his shoes in his hands. His gaze remains fixed on the expansive canvas of the ocean, its vastness both humbling and daunting. In the early evening, the ocean undergoes a captivating transformation, evolving into a symphony of rhythmic undulations.

As Luke shifts nervously on his feet, the subdued hues of the setting sun cast a gentle glow upon the water, bestowing an ethereal quality to the scene. The waves, reminiscent of graceful dancers, curl over in a serene ballet, each motion leaving a transient mark on the water's surface.

However, an undercurrent of change is visible. The ocean begins to deepen, the light blues of the day contorting into darker shades of black and navy. The waves, once a tranquil ballet, now adopt a more assertive stance, punching the shore with newfound vigour. Luke feels the shift in the air, the atmosphere charged with an unspoken intensity.

He stands there, caught between the ebb and flow of the changing tides, feeling the cool breeze play with his hair. The salt from the sea hangs in the air, sticking to his lashes. Above him, grey clouds gather, a subtle harbinger of the impending change. As if responding to some unseen force, the sea, with a sudden abruptness, flattens.

Amidst the quiet tension, her arrival becomes a beacon of contrasting serenity. Her hair, the first thing that catches his eye, emerges from the blues—sleek and shining like the ocean itself, capturing the remaining light. With each step, her shoulders appear, water cascading from the light armour she wears. Long strands of her hair, wrapped around her index finger, release droplets as she drains the water from it. The white foam from the now-subdued waves pools at her boots as she makes her way up the beach.

Once her foot leaves the water, the ocean, as if resentful of her departure, reverts to its rageful intent, thrashing and spitting with renewed fervour. Undeterred, she walks up the beach, her head bowed slightly, and her hair moved to sit over her shoulder. Luke's eyes follow her, never leaving her figure as she almost struts up to him.

“Look at you," he states, his gaze captivated by the armour that exudes the timeless elegance of Ancient Greek craftsmanship. Her breastplate, a gleaming testament forged from bronze, hosts intricate engravings portraying swirling waves and mythical sea creatures. The craftsmanship, exquisite in every detail, captures the fluidity of the ocean's dance with unparalleled artistry. Adorning her shoulders, the epaulettes, fashioned to resemble the majestic fins of a sea serpent, add an ethereal touch to the ensemble.

Her eyes, a reflection of the depths of her experiences, remain locked onto his. She's not the same 18-year-old girl who left camp a year ago, harbouring resentment toward the gods and grappling with self-doubt. She's transformed into a soldier for her father, and the weight of her newfound strength and purpose makes him feel almost small in her presence.

"You are really your fathers daughter now, aren't you” he declares, his tone carrying a mixture of disbelief and frustration. She meets his gaze with unwavering intensity "I've changed, Luke," she retorts, her voice firm. "I'm not that naive girl who once questioned everything. I've seen the power, the responsibility that comes with being a part of this world." He scoffs, a bitter edge to his words, crossing his arms over his chest. "Responsibility? Do you hear yourself, More like blind servitude.You've become a pawn in their games, a soldier for a cause that doesn't care about you.”

Her eyes narrow, a spark of defiance igniting within her. "You're still clinging to that rebellious dream of a new age," she counters. “Do you hear yourself?” she mocks. His frustration mounts, and he takes a step closer, the distance between them narrowing. "What happened to forging our own path?” he states with a slight hiss, his eyes looking down onto her examining her face with his brown eyes “free from their whims?” he adds in an almost whisper, pushing back a strand of dark hair behind her ear, she moves her face away from his hand “You've abandoned that for a role that has you dancing to their tune." Luke continues, She squares her shoulders, a steely resolve in her demeanour. "I've embraced my heritage, Luke. I've found purpose and strength in it. Maybe it's time you stop fighting against it and see that." She steps back from him, and he goes to move after her, almost magnetised to her presents, but her eyes worn him.

"If you wanted to meet me here just to argue, then I'm going because I can't—" Her words are cut short, interrupted by Luke as he reaches out, gently catching her hand. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you again," he admits, his voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and longing.

His gaze searches hers for a trace of understanding. "We used to dream of a life together," he continues, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I miss that, miss us. And if this is the only way I get to be near you, even if it means arguing, then I'll take it. Because not having you in my life feels like an endless storm." he admits his eyes burning through hers.

She looks back at him, a realisation dawning in her eyes as if she's just understood the depth of what love truly means. In that moment, she sees everything reflected in his gaze — the longing, the vulnerability, the unwavering devotion. His hands holding hers speak volumes, and the words that escape his lips carry the weight of a love that has weathered storms.

To him, she is everything — a constellation in the vast expanse of his universe. She can feel it in the warmth of his hands, hear it in the soft timbre of his voice. He has been the constant, the anchor in the tumultuous sea of their shared existence.

Yet, as she stands there, she recognizes that love is a complex tapestry, woven with threads of both joy and pain. He was her sun, a source of warmth and brightness, but the sea called to her, and she found herself in its depths and storms. The day she turned eighteen and was claimed by her father, the sea embraced her, and she felt a sense of belonging she had long yearned for. She learned to shine not only for him but also for herself, finding her identity in the ebb and flow of the waves.

"I can lose everything but not you… oh gods, not you," he almost says to himself, his words carried away by the wind and the sound of the waves. Her ears barely catch the sentiment, but her body reacts before her brain can intervene. Her arm slings around his neck, and her lips crash into his. In that moment, the world around them fades into the background.

His hands find her waist, pulling her closer as they share a desperate and breathless kiss. It's a collision of emotions, a manifestation of the tangled feelings that have lingered between them. When they finally break apart, he places his forehead against hers and closes his eyes.

"You fix this mess... with the master bolt, with my father and Zeus… and then maybe we could have this," she almost whispers, her voice a tender murmur against the backdrop of the ocean's symphony. "We could have us."

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#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x fem!reader #pjo spoilers #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke pjo

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revasserium · 3 months

Note

In case you hadn’t noticed I utterly ADORE your LaDS fics 🫣 You write the boys so well I squeal when I read them!

Can I request prompts 27 and 142 from the prompt lists for our boy Raf? Could it be nsfw? 👉👈

Eagerly awaiting all of your fics about Raf and Xavier especially!

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

eventide (27. follow me + 142. in the still of the night)

rafayel; 2,413; nsfw !!!, lvl 55 spoilers, piv sex, fem!reader, no "y/n", riding, heat??? adjacent sex???, smut with feelings, fluff and smut, pwp-ish

summary: "my life? what if you just take it instead?" said the sailor to the mermaid.

a/n: this is probably the best i've felt about a smut piece i've written. that ebb & flow lvl 55 story has me in a chokehold, i tell you.

“Maybe from the start… it was all a trap. Maybe the mermaid was after the sailor’s life all along.”

You reach forward to press your palm to the side of Rafayel’s face, feeling the heat of his skin burning against yours. Gently, you run your knuckles along the sparkling scales dotting the tops of his cheeks like so many pieces of a misplaced sea. You see his eyes go wide, feel his breath quicken impossibly in his chest.

“Okay.”

Rafayel blinks, and the barest hint of a frown creases his eyebrows as he turns to look at you.

“Okay?”

You smile, leaning forward with a soft sigh, letting your fingers trail down to his neck, where his pulse beats hummingbird fast beneath your touch.

“Mhm… you were saying earlier that you’d be so weak tonight that I could take your life if I wanted it…” you slowly shift your leg, one and then the other, over till you’re straddling Rafayel’s lap, both your hands resting on his shoulders. Fish-tail flashes of emotions flicker behind his eyes as he holds his breath, his fingers trembling as he reaches up to catch your wrists; he holds them tight, but he makes no move to either pull you closer or push you away.

You can feel his uncertainty thrumming in the air between you, static — electric.

“I — did…”

You let your head fall sideways as you flash him a sweet, helpless smile, “Then… if it were all a trap for my life… I’m saying that you can have it.”

You lean forward, and like this, your eye line is just a bit higher than his, forcing him to crane his head upwards to keep ahold of your gaze.

He is so warm beneath you that for a moment, you wonder if he’s activated his Evol by accident.

“I can…” for a moment, he seems confused, even drunk as he stares up at you, and then, the flicker of something behind his eyes as he goes stiff beneath you. Then, his fingers are digging into your hips and his breath is nearly searing across your lips. Your newly released wrists burn where his grip had been just seconds before, and you slowly sink your fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean — or make promises you’ve no intention of keeping.” There’s a razor’s edge glinting beneath the soft hiss of his voice as he glares at you, a longing as deep as the sea roiling behind his gaze.

You steel yourself, shifting slightly in his lap, your cheeks warming as you feel him quivering beneath you. He’s still hot, too hot, but he holds impossibly still as you lean in, your lips ghosting over his in a phantom kiss.

“Please…” it comes out as a ragged plea, and you’ve never known him to sound so desperate or so utterly broken, “if you don’t — if you’re not —“

You run your thumb along his jaw as you force him to look at you.

“Rafayel… kiss me.”

It is a breaking dam, a cresting wave, crashing against the crumbling edges of his self-restraint — his lips on yours, his tongue pressing, hungry and demanding, into your mouth as he surges up to kiss you. It’s all you can do to cling to him, your hands looping behind his neck as he crushes you to him, his hands suddenly everywhere as he tugs at the hem of your clothes, rucking them up just to press his palm to the bare skin of your waist, your back, to trail them up the ridges of your spine.

He tastes of salt and desire as he groans against your mouth, your fingers tangling in his foam-soft hair, heat tingling through you as he forces your hips against his and you feel him — hot and hard. A soft whine escapes your lips as he pulls back, panting, his eyes misty and dark as he watches you with a wildness that chases shivers down your spine.

“Are you scared?” he asks, his voice low and just a little breathless, “do you regret staying?”

You swallow and shake your head, trailing your fingers down into the already-opened front of his shirt, grazing your nails along the skin there. A delicious, heart-rending anticipation sizzles through you at the way his stomach flexes, and the next moment, he’s dropping his lips to your shoulder, his teeth sinking into the bare skin there even as he grabs your hand and forces it lower — and then lower.

Heat pulses through you as your palm meets his clothed cock and his head drops back with a moan. Like this, the scales on his neck and jaw are even more pronounced, glimmering in the dim, moonless night. You loosen his belt with one hand before tugging it down with the other, but before you can reach for him, he catches your wrists and pulls you bodily back up the length of his torso.

You almost yelp, shocked by his strength and the ease with which he’d hauled you over his lap once more. There’s an intensity to his hooded eyes, so much darker than their usual lost-treasure brightness, but he smirks as he sees the obvious blush marring your cheeks.

“Already embarrassed? Didn’t you say you were going to give me your life?”

You purse your lips, “I — I am.”

A strange expression crosses his face as he scoffs, “I told you… don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

And then he’s kissing you again, harsh and hungering, a ravenousness carving through him into the hollow of you as you roll your clothed core down over his throbbing cock with a loud, hapless moan.

“S-says who I don’t plan on keeping them?” you ask, breathless and panting as he lifts your hips with a hiss and literally tears away your underwear. Shivers shake through you at this blatant display of strength — you’d always known he was strong, stronger than he lets on but you hadn’t expected this. It caves your stomach and curves your spine as a want so carnal it sears your mind threatens to take you over.

“Mm — fuck —”

He swears as he shoves down his own pants and his cock springs free, thick and leaking as it slaps against the tight muscle of his lower abdomen. You can’t help the way your eyes wide or your breath hitches at the sight — your mouth waters, your throat tightens.

Heat pulses between your thighs as you press your lips and reach down to wrap your fingers around his base, giving him a soft, experimental tug.

The low, guttural moan that spills from you threatens to steal your sanity from you entirely. And suddenly, it’s not only him feeling the effects of the eventide night — you too start to wonder if there’s something in the thick heat of the air, in dark moonless skies.

“Come here, princess —” Rafayel’s fingers dig into your arms as he jerks you up again, pulling you up till you’re hovering over his weeping cock, your core throbbing with want, the nickname somehow sending another thrill tingling through you. You wonder if you had been a princess in another life — if Rafayel had known you then too — if you’d also wanted each other as you do now —

“R-Raf — ay — yel — ah!” you brace your arms against his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself over him, both of your eyes caught on the intoxicating sight of him sinking into you, inch by inch, thick and unrelenting, until finally you’re seated fully in his lap again, your breaths coming in quick, harsh gasps as you try to adjust to the sting, the stretch.

“H-hey…” Rafayel strokes a hand along your cheek, his own chest heaving even as he checks in on you, “how — how do you feel?”

You keen, rolling your hips down over him just to watch him shudder, “G-good — ah — fuck — there —!”

You plant your palms on his chest and lift yourself up a few inches before sinking down again. The friction nearly drives all coherence from your brain as Rafayel’s hands fall to your hips, his nails digging crescent moon marks into the plush above your ass.

He groans, “Y-you’re squeezing m-me so… so tight — ngh — fuck fuck fuck — do — do you feel that — right — right there?”

He lets out a panting breath as he forces your hips forward and back as he flicks his eyes down at the place where his cock is disappearing into your cunt over and over, a ring of sticky white collecting round the base as he watches, his eyes glazed over with want.

“Yes — yes — I f-feel it —” you force your thighs to go faster, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades as you try to ride him harder, keening when he dips down to catch one of your nipples between his lips, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh, his tongue circling your sensitive nub. Fire chases down the length of your spine as pleasure explodes in your lower belly as Rafayel rucks up into you faster and faster, reaching up a hand to squeeze at your other breast, thumb kneading at the sensitive nipple till you’re twitching, falling forward into his embrace.

“You really — really like it when I fuck you deep like this, hm?” and he’s just as breathless as he should be, there’s sweat beading at his brow, an almost crazed, unfocused look in his eyes as he pulls back to look up at you, but it only serves you spur you on as you ride him faster and harder, tossing your head back, slamming your hips down into his to chase your own high as you cry out before falling forward against his feverish skin.

He shifts his hips and you go rigid above him, the tip of his cock hitting a particular place inside you that makes the entire world go fuzzy around the edges. Once, twice, three times — and then you’re collapsing, shaking and shuddering as you come undone around him, and he’s swearing beneath you, squeezing you to him with a thick, bitten-off groan.

“Fuck — i-if you keep — squeezing — around me l-like that — ah-ah-hah…!”

You let out a soft whine as you feel him spilling hot inside you, his cock twitching as he shivers, his forehead falling against your shoulder as he sighs.

“Mm… how… how do you… feel?” you ask, your voice hazy with tiredness as you pull back, grinning lazily down at him, twisting your fingers absently through the hairs at the nape of his neck. Rafayel peers up at you after a second, half-reproachful, half-amazed.

“You… really have no idea… do you?”

“No idea… of what?” you ask, cocking your head to the side even as he tugs you in, his softening cock still sheathed inside you, the sticky heat of your juices cooling against your skin.

“Don’t you know what it means to have sex with a Lemurian?”

You laugh, shaking your head, leaning forward to nuzzle into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You rest your head against the sofa and dig your nose into his skin.

“No… tell me.”

Rafayel’s arms wrap around you, sweet and solid, even as a soft squishing sound alerts you both to the mess you’ve undoubtedly made on his artisanal couch. Neither of you pay it much mind.

“It means that you’re tied to me forever — for this lifetime at least, and that… if you ever try to have sex with anyone else…” Rafayel drops his voice, murmuring into the shell of your ear as you shy away at giggle, “You’ll suffer dire consequences.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “Well, good thing I wasn’t planning on having sex with anyone else then. In this lifetime… or the next.”

Rafayel goes still beneath you. And for a second, it’s just you and him and the catching of lost breaths, the remembering of things once forgotten, lives once lived and yet to be lived again.

“Haven’t I told you? Don’t say things you don’t mean…”

You lift your head to look at him, a soft smile lifting your cheeks as you sigh.

“You keep saying that… but I’ve meant everything I said,” you say, trailing your fingers along the high of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw. You feel his skin burn fire-hot beneath the pads of your thumbs as you run them along his bottom lip.

“Promise you’re not lying,” he says, and he’s not indignant any longer, but reverent and eager, almost anxious.

“I promise.”

“Can your promises be trusted?”

You smile before leaning in to run your lips along his neck, tracing his pulse all the way up to his lips with a light, lingering kiss.

“You tell me, sly merman… weren’t you just saying that the mermaid of legend had set a clever trap for the sailor? So tell me, clever, clever merman… if you’ve bound me to you forever… what power would I have to lie to you, hm?”

Rafayel scoffs, pouting as he looks away, “Unbelievable.”

You laugh, lying your cheek back against his chest with a small sigh, “You should learn to believe it… I mean, I did just willingly give you my life.”

Rafayel makes a soft tsk-ing noise as he pinches you lightly on the thigh, “You really don’t know what you’re saying, do you?”

You shake your head, “No… I know exactly what I’m saying.”

Rafayel grunts, though you know by the sound of his voice that he’s grinning, even as he turns to face away from you. You fancy you can feel the heat as it kisses pink the tips of his ears. You reach up to run a finger along the bright scales still pressing up from beneath his skin as he lets out a soft hiss, turning back to look at you.

“You might not believe me but… at least… I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.”

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harmshake · 5 months

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Daddy's Little Helper

What Roman does for you he expects in return...

Roman Reigns x Fem Reader | 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut | 1,089 words

a/n: I am in another writing slump right now so I won't be posting anything from WiPs any time soon, but hey, look what I found in my drafts. 🥹

Happy reading! Read my other Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨

Your knees sank into the cushiony sheets beneath Roman as you straddled him, sitting pretty with his dick nestled in you.

"You gonna make yourself cum on my dick, baby?" he asked you softly. He could see it in your eyes that glazed over with pleasure. You blushed from his attentive eyes on you and you could only nod as you were at a loss for words. Your mind was fuzzy with no thought but one...your body trembling as you winded on him to chase that thought and bring it to life.

Your hands pressed to his strong, bare chest that you clawed at when it got good, his dick the perfect girth to nudge against every spot and catch every throb of your pussy that gave away how close you were...you only needed to hit your sweet spot just so...but it was evading you.

You took your time and he let you, he enjoyed it. He grasped you by your waist and soaked in your soaking wet warmth as he moaned with you. However, it was taking you a bit longer than usual as your nerves were all over the place from how handsome he was admiring you on top of him.

"You want Daddy to help you cum?" Roman whispered after several more minutes of your face flickering through the now frustrating ebb and flow of your orgasm as it simmered right beneath the surface.

You nodded again and Roman tipped his hips up a bit so you sat on him at an incline, your body falling forward a bit and your lips landing on his forehead. You kissed it before a moan jumped out of you as you felt the difference immediately, your agitation melting away with his dick nuzzling to your g-spot as he ran his big hands up your back.

"Oh, shit, baby..." was all you could gather to utter with another deep moan escaping you. Roman stayed put at the angle that made it easy for you to grind on him until your simmering orgasm began to bubble and spill over you.

"Yeah? That feel good, baby girl?" he cooed to you, slipping one of his hands from your waist to your throat, right beneath your jaw, and squeezing lightly. He knew you liked that to push you over the edge, and you confirmed it with a whimper that left your lips parted as you abruptly came, the first quivering wave so intense your hips stuttered to a stop.

"It feels gooood...unnhh. I'm cumming," you sobbed, your mind going blank and your voice cracking with raspy moans both from your pleasure and his hand gripping your throat.

Roman picked up where you left off, grinding up into you with his free hand falling back to your waist to hold you steady. His eyes stayed on you to see you lose yourself on him. Your eyelids fluttered shut as your moans fell from your open mouth, but you heard him demand, "Look at me when I make you cum. I wanna see those beautiful eyes roll for me."

His grip around your neck tightened just a bit until you obeyed, the delicious feeling forcing your eyes open as they tried to see the back of your skull. He then gripped even tighter, intensifying your orgasm to heights your moans couldn't even reach. The pathetic attempts teetered off into pants and whines, sounds that told him you were overwhelmed with searing ecstasy.

That's when Roman pulled you to him by your throat until your lips touched his, kissing you and consuming your whimpers before he purred quietly, "That's my sweet girl. Is it Daddy's turn to cum now?"

You felt yourself nod once more before he covered your lips with a wet, greedy kiss that made you moan on his tongue.

"You gonna help me like I helped you, baby girl?"

"Yes, Daddy," you replied without another thought in a husky breath once you caught it.

Roman searched your eyes to see if you understood the assignment in your blissed-out state. Your cheeks felt warm as you blushed and watched him command in his own husky voice, "Then I need you to bounce on this dick, sweetheart. Don't stop until you feel me cummin' inside you. Can you do that?"

"Yessss, fuck!" you moaned with your head just as airy as your voice when he thrust up and hit the back of your pussy to make sure you were listening.

Roman then nodded with a tiny grin and pushed you back upright to let your hands fall to his chest again as you steadied yourself. He studied you with adoration, all cute and fucked up from your stupefying orgasm, and he bit his lip as you did the best you could to move and buck your hips to pounce on his dick.

"Mmm, fuck, baby...just like that. Ride this dick..." he groaned right when you thought you were too far gone to do the job he needed you to do. His fingertips dug into your right asscheek and left hip to hold you, not help you, as he gazed at you whining with each slam of your pussy swallowing him and keeping him deep.

"Look at you workin' for Daddy's cum..."

Your thighs burned from exhaustion but you were determined to make Roman cum as good as he made you...yet when you slowed down a little, his heavy hand as it spanked your ass brought you back to life. "Unh unh, don't stop now, sweetheart. You said you would help me cum in this pretty pussy, right?"

Another swift spank when you didn't respond fast enough made you yelp, "Ye-esss, Daddy!"

"You wanna feel my cum in you, don't you?" he groaned in a gruff tone with his eyes locked on yours before he licked his lips.

You shivered and nodded your head fervently, your nails sunk into the broad muscles of his shoulders for leverage as you bounced on him until his whines deepened into bellowing moans. He gripped your hips to keep you still and make you feel his dick gently spasming with each rope of warm cum you earned.

Your moans nearly drowned out his, your hands on your breasts to squeeze and tease your nipples as you rested and relished in the feel of him filling you. When you met his gorgeous gaze, you shook with satisfaction from seeing exhaustion finally catch up with him...and validation from his words as Roman grunted, "Such a good little helper. Take it all, baby...you deserve it."

Thanks for reading! ❤️

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