#the end is very rushed so just ignore that
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Can I pls request one where Leon is obsessed with his wife’s small baby bump? Like especially when she wears dresses he just can’t stop staring 🧎♀️🌸
baby blues
—re4!leon kennedy!husband x pregnant wife!reader
— a oneshot (request)
warnings: MDNI, 18+, a lot of fluff, leon being the best baby daddy out there, reader kind of hates being pregnant at times, reader deals with some body issues and how their body is changing, leon is so sweet and supportive, gives cocky hot dad vibes, mentions of pregnancy pain, oral (f receiving), breast play, lots of kissing and praise, mentions of past sex, mentions of doctors offices, cursing, leon and reader being the cutest little husband and wife out there.
“you had tried. tried stretching, tried taking a pill and had tried sleeping. but everything hurt. everything. your feet, your head, your back and especially your breasts. it felt like something was tugging and poking at all the soft parts of your body. it was torture, almost. if there wasn’t a handsome man next to you, rubbing your back as you laid on your side. leon dulled the ache a little, he looked at you still like the day he met you four years ago, even when you were pregnant, fat and you felt like death had taken over certain parts of your body. leon still looked at you like you were the most precious thing. and it made you wanna cry, scream and kiss him all at the same time.”
— or reader gets pregnant and tries to come to terms with it and leon has no problem helping her out
masterlist taglist
an: thank you for the request anon <33 hope you enjoy it. this was such a cute little thing to write. might make a headcanon list soon just for this specific request :,)
you and leon had talked about kids, about babies.
about the joy it would bring both of you to have something made by the two of you. to make you both enjoy the ties of your marriage and love.
you, however didn’t expect to get pregnant so soon after your marriage. but leon…leon was hard to resist and your body craved him and it was your choice. a choice that you made over and over and over again.
until two lines changed his life and yours entirely, it was hard ignore how the both of you panicked. the excitement, nerves and the rushing of your heart beating accelerated as you stared at the test…four month ago.
you both had been so careful, so very careful, but in one night of heated touches and sloppy kisses, you decided to fuck the condom and just deal. thinking the birth control you took would be enough, but it…it was not. definitely not.
you dealt with being pregnant like a champ, or tried to. you were sore now, you were fatter and you felt like a truck had hit you when you simply moved to grab something.
you loved the idea of carrying a child in retrospect, when leon had pounded you into the mattress many times before, thinking and muttering all the obscene words and images about breeding you. you literally keened at the idea, but now, now that you were here and doing it, you wanted to rip this kid out of you.
you hurt every moment of everyday, you were tired and hungry and whenever you saw that stupid ASPCA commercial on the tv with the dogs, you started bawling like a child. it was obnoxious and to think it would only get more strenuous as the moments that passed was literal torture.
and the doctors appointments, the vitamins you had to take and the way your body changed. it was a lot to handle, you had leon. you had him to help but sometimes it didn’t feel like it was enough. you couldn’t dress like you usually did anymore and could only wear the sundresses and other dresses you had hanging in your closet.
it felt like you were playing dress up, but it was the only thing you were comfortable in these days. the only thing that fit over the bump. the only thing that made you feel pretty and not like an inflated blimp.
and the one thing besides the pain, the bloating and the never ending amount of morning sickness you’ve had to deal with…the one thing you held onto was by the end of it you would get to be a mom. leon would get to be a dad, that was the only thing that kept you tethered to reality these days.
but leon enjoyed the sight of you in your dresses, that was one thing that also kept you tethered. the way he still ate you alive with his eyes, scouring you still as if you haven’t changed at all. you would always find his blue eyes piercing into your pregnant frame whenever you’d slip on a dress for the day or when you were bare and just got out of the shower.
it made you more aroused then usual, the only thing worse was the leon never acted on it. he never once stopped you and brought you to your guys bedroom. he never offered to eat you out anymore. you didn’t know why he was staring but wouldn’t act. was he worried that he’d hurt you? or the baby? you didn’t know, you had no clue.
but it was festering, each look he gave you in your pretty little dresses with your bump of pregnancy was making your skin hotter everyday. you didn’t know how much longer of this pregnancy you could take if he didn’t act on his desires. most importantly, your own.
two weeks, later and your sick of everything.
your sick of walking, your back pain, the peeing every five minutes. just everything makes you annoyed or feel like your going to crawl out of your own skin. you don’t get comfort in bed, you toss and turn. you’re then frustrated because you can’t sleep on your stomach, you wanna rip this baby out of you and it’s only the four month mark.
leon is a saint though. he’s bringing you food, rubbing your feet, holding your hair back when you throw up from the morning sickness. you feel bad for being such a bitch, for being so mean and hormonal. you try not to snap or throw a hissy fit.
but it’s hard.
you’re also sick of the doctor asking you twenty million questions when you go to your next appointment. already fed up from lack of sleep and your bowel movements. the baby is healthy, so everyone is happy. just not you.
another thing, leon keeps eyeing you and basically fucking you with his eyes. another thing that’s just adding up into your short limit of patience. you wanna scream at him to just fuck you, do something. you need a release. and if you could do it on your own, you would. but you can’t even see over your stomach or much less reach it.
so your just stuck feeling pent up and frustrated with everything. until one day, one day you just snap. you just lose your shit. you don’t remember what really caused it to happen, maybe it was the fact that you saw leon wearing only a towel after his shower, practically making you drool.
but you lost it. you just lost it, for absolutely no reason at all.
“can you stop looking at me like that?” you say softly as you look over at him, your being patient, so patient at this point and it makes you wanna scream or cry. he’s digging for something in your shared dresser drawer at this point, minding his own business.
leon looks behind him, over his shoulder to where you sit on the bed. he raises a small brow, “i’m not even looking at you, baby. i’m getting clothes.” he says with a small hint of amusement in his voice.
“you know what i mean, leon.” you say in a annoyed tone as you shift on the bed, the many pillows for your back pain and a heating pad pressed up against it. you opted for a t-shirt of his and underwear, the only two things besides dresses that you could really stand these days.
he grabs his boxers and takes off his towel, you try to ignore the arousal that’s literally pooling uncomfortably in your underwear as you see it. your trying to stay annoyed, stay focused, but his dick is just right there. so far out of your reach but so close and you just want to pounce on him.
“i can’t stare at my beautiful wife now?” he says with a small notch in his brow, pulling his boxers up over his dick, making you disappointed and snap back into what was currently happening. you huff and rub your bump, shifting against the heating pad and pillows.
“no, you can.” you say with a small glare in his direction, “but if your not gonna do something about it, i’d rather you tell me then just…” you trail off when he crawls on the bed next to you, sitting beside you. “angel, you have something you wanna share with me?” he says in that low and intimate tone that gets your insides all bubbly.
you gnaw on your bottom lip in contemplation, “no. i don’t.” he chuckles lowly and moves even closer to you on the bed, putting his hand on your thigh and squeezing. “i hardly believe that, baby. no offense.” he says softly as he presses a kiss to your ear.
you were going to jump him if he didn’t stop this, he was teasing you. he had to be, it was ridiculous that he couldn’t even see how miserable this was making you. “can you just…?” you start and fail pathetically as you try to squirm into his touch more on your thigh.
“can i just what?” he says in a soft timbre into your ear, almost daring and pushing you to say it. to ask. you were beyond irritated and wound up now. everything hurt and your body felt hot. “can you please touch me?” you say softly, you sound whiney and desperate and it’s nothing like you. but a part of you really didn’t care anymore.
you hormonal, achy and moody beyond relief. you just wanted him to touch you, to fuck you even. it was getting annoying how much your body had craved him since you became pregnant.
he didn’t move his hand from your thigh, his breath still ghosting over your ear and the side of your face. “i am touching you, love.” he says with an arrogant smirk against your skin.
arrogant bastard. you thought to yourself, you were brazen in the moment. “it hurts, leon. just…please?” you practically whined in that moment, you didn’t like the teasing. not when your patience was already short enough as it was.
he pressed a tender kiss to the side of your head, “what hurts, baby?” he says softly as he rubs his hand up her thigh and over her bump, soothing tender circles over your body and the baby beneath.
you don’t even care anymore, the soothing feeling of his hand over your t-shirt was enough. your cheeks were red though and you guided his hand up to your swollen breasts beneath your (his) t-shirt that you wore.
“oh, honey.” he sighs softly in a contented whisper against your head, pressing a small kiss to your hairline. he doesn’t move his hand on one of your swollen breasts, just rests his hand there as if he’s just supporting it with his large hand over the fabric.
“leon…please, it hurts.” you hear yourself breathe out in a whimper, one of pain or of desire, you didn’t know. you didn’t care to know right now. “hold on, hold on.” he mumbled softly as he shifted next to you, getting closer to your side, he adjusted himself on the pillows next to you.
“can’t deny my pretty little wife. can i?” he says into your ear with a small nip as his hand squeezed and kneaded one of your swollen breasts. you couldn’t help the sound that came out of you, a mix of relief and desire that you didn’t know you could make.
he moves his lips to press against your neck, nipping and licking as he kneads your breasts, trying to make the pain subside as you moan. “feels s’good…” you mumble in between small noises.
“i know, i know. sorry, for teasing you all this time.” he mumbles into your neck, “gotta stop teasing you…” he mumbles again in between kisses as he presses one more kiss under your ear.
his hands working up your swollen and aching breasts, you could feel your panties practically dripping with release. you grab at his bicep, curling around the muscle there for balance. “please…” you whimper softly.
he moves his lips up to your ear, “what do you want? use your words, baby.” he nips at your earlobe and keeps kneading your breasts, alleviating some of the ache there.
you grip down on his bicep harder, your hormones from the pregnancy were going crazy at his touch. “anything…something, please.” you whine softly near his ear as you almost draw blood. you just needed a release and you weren’t going to get far with him kneading your breasts.
“how about i eat out that pretty pussy? hmm?” he practically purrs into your ear as one of his hands leads down from your breasts to beneath the covers. your soaked underwear beneath your rotund belly, he finds it. an amusing sound leaving his mouth at your ear, tracing the pads of his fingers over your wet slit of your underwear.
his words and his touches having a disastrous affect on your pregnant body, you felt like a match that he was striking with flame and then putting out. it was so much in the best way possible.
you just nod rapidly, emitting a small whine as you clutch his bare bicep harder. “okay, pretty girl.” he presses another kiss to your ear, smirking to himself. he traces your wet slit again, marveling at how soaked you were for him.
“practically drenching your underwear, this all for me?” he muses as he pulls back on the bed next to you, pushing the covers back from your body. your hand falling down to the sheets beneath you, “yes…” you manage to get out as he clicks his tongue. a growl almost rose from his mouth as he gets farther back on the bed, moving in between your knees.
he sees the wet patch that’s soaking your underwear, he knew you were hormonal from the pregnancy. but god, how much arousal could form just from you looking at him? it needed to be studied, but he couldn’t help but feel his ego and confidence inflate.
your bodies reaction to him would always be something he’d never get tired of. especially now when you were drenching your pretty panties.
“fuck, baby. missed this sweet pussy.” he rasps as he looks up at you with hooded blue eyes, his pupils dilated. you knew that look well enough to know that he was going to give you what you both wanted.
release.
you mewl, “please, leon. don’t wanna beg…” you try to reach down to yank his hands or his head closer but your pregnant belly stops you. he puts a hand on the inside of your thigh, “no begging required. i’m going to eat out my pretty pregnant wife. i’m hungry anyways.” he smirks devilishly as he massage the meat of your thigh.
he doesn’t waste anytime, your head hits the mountains of pillows behind you. your chest rising and falling fast beneath his t-shirt that your wearing. his hands come up to the waist band of your underwear and slowly pull them down over your hips and bent legs.
your bare pussy is on display now and you feel the cold air hit your most private parts, ones that he’s seen before but now…now that you were pregnant and carrying his child…things were different. you looked more delicious now, looked more like he could eat you out for days. eat you and fuck you until the baby came.
god help him.
he doesn’t waste anytime, none whatsoever. he’s going to give you what you want. he rubs his fingers through your arousal, spreading it everywhere and teasing you just a bit longer.
you whine, “leon, please…just stop. i want it.” he looks up at you from where he’s laying on the mattress in between your bent legs. “i know baby, just admiring how beautiful you are…everywhere.” he smirks to himself and presses a kiss to the hood of your clit.
you moan a little, he clicks his tongue. “so sensitive.” he muses, “good to know some things never change after pregnancy.” he whispers as he presses another kiss to your clit.
“fuck…leon…” you whine softly, clenching the sheets beneath you. your hormone fueled body making you out to be this whiny monster.
he just chuckles against the skin of your dripping pussy, “just sit back and relax, sweet girl. i’ve got you.” he says as he runs his hands up to the sides of your hips, holding you steady as he dips his head down.
he starts licking a long stripe up from your drenched opening to your clit, your head tilting back as you moan loudly. you never failed to amaze him, get him hard and all worked up. you both had that affect on each other, good to know it was still intact.
how had leon not done this yet? not touched you this way yet when you’d been pregnant? you were like putty in his hands right now.
he felt like an idiot.
a large one. 
he stuck his tongue into your soaked opening and licked, fucking you with his tongue as you clenched the sheets harder beneath you. “fuck, want…uhh, so fucking good!” you moan loudly, practically screaming.
he just keeps fucking you with his tongue, almost rutting his boxer clad erection into the mattress. he reached one hand down to rub his thumb over your clit, still fucking you with his tongue.
your back arches a little, as much as it can without you hurting yourself. a white knuckled grip on the mattress is all you have as he ravishes you, keeps his tongue and fingers working you into oblivion as you writhe and moan underneath him.
“leon! uhh…fuck…” you babble nonsense as you feel the coil start to build in your lower abdomen, you had never come this fast before. but the fact that you were pent up, more hormonal then usual and he was working you open with his skilled mouth and fingers…
you were fucked, figuratively and literally.
he took his tongue out of your opening moving the finger that was on your clit, down to your soaked opening. his fingers working you open now, sliding one in which causes you to release a long moan, his name rolling off of your tongue.
his mouth attaching itself to your clit and licking, sucking and swirling his tongue. he was smirking as he did it. knowing that he was gonna feel you come all over his fingers and face.
he could do this forever, keep you pregnant forever just so he could hear those pretty little sounds you made when you’d fall apart beneath him.
he kept moving his pointer finger in and out, swirling his tongue over your swollen clit as you moaned obscenely, thanking god and him and his mouth.
“just…yes! fuck! gonna cum!” you babble again, losing all rational thoughts as he continued to lick and rub and finger you. you felt helpless under his touch, but in the best way. the way that made you and the unborn baby inside of you feel safe and cherished, loved even.
he just kept it up, only breaking his licking at your clit to talk you through it, “good girl, pretty little wife gonna cum all over my fingers? huh?” he says with a raspy voice, his lips stained in a gloss of your arousal.
you moan softly in response and nod, your eyes fluttering open and shut, your pussy clenching around his fingers. pulling them out just to push another long inside of you and curl your fingers upwards until he found your magic spot.
you whine at that, smacking a hand down on the sheets underneath you. “there it is…” he muses in a low tone, “good girl, maybe if your really nice i’ll pump another baby into you tomorrow.” he says with a smirk.
you moan, “fuck…yes!” you yell out, the idea of him fucking you and promising to get you even more pregnant…it was making that band inside of you get closer to snapping.
“you’d like that wouldn’t you? filling you up with my big cock and pumping you full of my cum?” he teases as he keeps fucking you with his two fingers, the noise of your arousal would normally be a turn off but you were so close to release that you didn’t care anymore.
you moaned and nodded dumbly in response, his free hand sliding from your hip to rub over the swell of your belly. “pump another baby into you, fuck, you’d love that.” he says lowly.
“i-i would…fuck, want more babies…” you whine softly as you writhe more, some tears leaking out of your eyes. he almost growls at that, pumping his fingers harder inside of you and rubbing that sweet spot that makes you see stars.
he knew you were close, knew you were going to reach that point that made you all blissed out and needy. “cmon baby, come all over my fingers. know you can.” he encouraged with a kiss to your clit, his free hand still rubbing over your belly.
all it took was him talking more, working you up with his sweet words and his fingers hitting the mark over and over again inside of you. you moaned loudly, clenching around his fingers. your release coating all over his digits.
he didn’t say anything, just worked you through it until overstimulation set in, removing his fingers from you. he brought them both up and licked the release from his fingers.
you watched him with undivided attention, your eyes lazily opening and closing in the haze of your orgasm. he smiled softly and crawled from in between your legs to rest over you, pressing a kiss to your lips.
“don’t you ever think for one second that i don’t want to fuck you, taste you or do that. i love you and i love making you fall apart. you being pregnant…has nothing to do with me holding off.” he says in a reassurance, pressing another small kiss to your lips.
being mindful as he leaned over you not to disturb the bump of your belly. your eyes locked on his as he looked down at you, “i’ve just been stressed and on edge with prepping for the baby. it’s had absolutely nothing to do with you being pregnant.” he says softly, reaching a hand up and running it through the hair at the base of your skull.
“your so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. i know you don’t see it these days. but you are even hotter now that your carrying my baby, our baby.” he explains with a gentle smile, making some water prick into your eyes.
“so don’t think for one second that i find you unattractive or that i’m teasing you on purpose.” he says with another small peck to your lips, “you understand me?”
you nod slowly as you look up at him, blinking the small amount of water away from your eyes. you should’ve never doubted him, should’ve never thought that about yourself.
and he hated that, hated that he made you doubt yourself and your body for one second. you were so beautiful, you were his and he loved you. he had loved you long before you both spoke your vows in front of god and each other.
he loved you so much, as much as you loved him. so he rolled off from hovering on top to you, cuddling his body next to yours, letting himself wrap his strong arms around your pregnant body.
he wanted to hold you close to his heart, he always did inside. he always kept you there because that’s where you deserved to be. you were his wife and the mother of his (soon to be) child.
he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, pulling the covers back up over you and him, cuddling you close. his hand rubbing over your belly with the fabric of his own t-shirt covering it. “your so very beautiful, baby. i love you so much. even when you don’t see it.” he says against the side of your head, pressing another kiss there.
you melted into his arms, your eyes fluttering close in exhaustion and in content. you didn’t feel so insecure and anxious anymore. you knew that he had been off, but he was just as stressed as you. he had to be, you were going to be a mom and he was going to be a dad.
it was a lot of pressure.
but as long as you both had each other, you knew you guys could do it. the rings on your hands symbolizing the best and worst parts of you and him, the parts that you accepted and promised to love forever.
and with him, it would never be scary. not if you had a husband like leon, and he would love you just as much as the baby inside of you.
it was a part of both of you, that could never be unloved. not if either of you had anything to say about it.
an: hope you guys enjoy. i couldn’t deny a double upload this week, my bad lol. i love you guys so much and i hope you enjoyed. happy friday!! i’m gonna be opening my requests again soon. i wrote this when i was ovulating so no harsh judgement. please reblog and like, kisses. xx.
taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl (if you wanna be on my taglist interact with the link at the beginning)

#leon kennedy#leon x reader#re2 leon#re4 remake#leon kennedy au#re2 remake#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy fluff#fluff#leon kennedy fic#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy re2#re4 leon#leon kennedy x fem reader#re4 leon x reader#pregnancy#husband!leonkennedy#pregnant reader#pregnancy au#leon kennedy smut#leonkennedyimagine
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hiii so domspace jj x kitten 🤗
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you were whimpering from the second jj wrapped his massive bicep around your throat, forcing you to remain flush against his sweaty body as he dragged you kicking and snarling back into the house.
neither of you know exactly what caused it, maybe it was the heat--a storm was heading its way towards the island and it was just the two of you, trapped at your house as you waited for it to come. maybe it was the cabin fever. whatever it was, you'd been a bitch all day, complaining and snapping at him for the smallest infractions until you got the bright idea to go rushing out the house like there was anywhere for you to go.
asking you to come back inside did nothing--so he forced you instead, fighting to get ahold of you until he wrapped you in a firm headlock with his other arm around your waist and practically throwing you on the ground.
"you wanna tell me what the fuck your problem is? i haven't done anything to you." it was very obvious jj was at the end of his rope, and if you were smart you would have sensed the charge in the air buzzing around you.
sometimes you let your anger get the best of you.
"fuck you! i'm so fuckin sick of having to look at you all day."
jj just blinks, he's almost eerily calm when he stares down at you-- fingers flexing, jaw clenched tight, "okay."
"wha-?" before you can comprehend what's going on he's hauling you up by the front of your shirt, you're barely off the ground as he drags you to your room, "let me go!"
he's not listening, instead he just bends you over the edge of the bed, not at all caring about the way the floor bites into your knees.
"sick of lookin at me? fine, then don't" his blunt nails scratch your skin as he yanks your clothes off, a strong hand keeping your head pressed against the mattress.
your legs are unceremoniously shoved open and you shiver when the humid air hits your quickly dampening cunt, he spreads you open with two fingers, letting out a mean scoff at the sight.
"for someone who's this fuckin mad, you sure are wet pussycat." that's as much of a warning you get when he roughly shoves himself into you, smacking his hips against your ass so hard he has to grab the back of your neck to stop you from sliding off the bed.
"i fuckin hate you, jj get the fuck off." you're still fighting, trying not to let yourself sink into the space you know he wants you to go, reaching back to smack at his arms and face before he pins you and you gasp.
every thrust makes you whine in overstimulation, he's everywhere--the hand on your neck has shifted to stuff two fingers in your mouth, pressing down hard on the back of your tongue to make you gag, the other digging into your soft tummy to drag you back to meet each rough thrust, his sweaty torso pressed against your back, the musky smell of him filling your senses.
jj feels beside himself, each little jingle of the bell around your neck makes his dick throb inside your creaming pussy. he cant tell where you stop and he begins, he can feel your heart thumping through your back, but it might also be his. maybe you're trembling, maybe it's him, but the need to put you in your place is enough to keep him going.
"stop fuckin whining, you wanted this, i can feel that little pussy tryna milk me dry. you're making me do this to you sugar, so shut the fuck up." the fingers in your mouth press one more time and with a hiccup you spit up over his fingers making him groan.
"s'what the fuck you get, i tried being nice to you all day but this is what you wanted." he presses your face in the mess, ignoring your whimper when he pulls out.
"nonono, papa don't go m'sorry."
there it is, that's what he wanted, that hazy faraway look in your eyes and your pussy spasming from your quickly fading orgasm, tears are beginning to clump in your lashes when he pulls you fully onto the bed and flips you over and you sob.
"don't cry now, i'm givin you what you asked for." he pushes your legs up to your chest and sinks back in with a grunt, once again pinning you under him.
"i'msorryi'msorrypleasecanihaveakissi'llbegood." you're blubbering now, doing your best to grab at him from where your arms are trapped between your bodies.
jj knows when you cum--your eyes slam shut and tears trail down your cheeks as you let out a choked gasp. you're completely silent outside of a soft clicking sound that comes from the back of your throat every couple seconds and he'd be worried that you'll pass out.
he would. if the sight didn't make his vision blur when his orgasm hit him like a punch to the back of the head.
his hips begin to stutter when he presses them flush against yours, digging his fingers into your thighs hard enough to bruise. there's an urge to sink his teeth into your cheek and he does, licking up your salty tears as he fills your cunt until its spills and drips onto the sheets.
when he finally lets go of your soft cheek he sees you flinch, there's an imprint of his teeth that he kisses until your breathing evens out and your heartbeat slows.
"you aight?" he noses at your jaw and you nod, you're practically purring and he can't believe how content you look. "I'm about to pull out."
"o-okay." your voice is hoarse, thighs trembling as he slides out and maneuvers your body into a more comfortable position on your stomach.
everything feels brighter, your skin sensitive as he kisses down your spine, pausing to nibble at the tattoo on the back of your neck.
by the time he cleans the both of you up, you're curled up in his lap, sleeping when the storm finally starts raging outside.
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"i can't believe you got in a fight.”
“he hit me first, you just expect me to stand there and take that?"
a small chuckle leaves his mouth at your choice of words, standing between you parted legs osamu has been patching you up after a ‘small mishap’ with one of your classmates.
"obviously not, its just…" his voice trails off as he rummages around in the first aid kit until he finds an alcohol wipe, gently tearing it open before swiping it across your cheek, you wince in discomfort and he gives you an apologetic look. "sorry — its just, you're not really the type to hit someone, like i know you can defend yourself but cmon, you knocked him out."
"deserved."
"you really are something else." he laughs as he starts to dig around to find something else to slather over your face.
"thankyou."
"not a compliment."
“i'm gonna take it as one."
"i knew you would."
"yeah yeah whatever, you would have done the same.”
“oh yeah totally.” he picks up a tube of antibacterial cream and gently starts to apply it to the cut on your cheek, making sure to be extra careful as to not put too much.
“thankyou by the way.” he tilts his head up to look you in the eye for a split second before focusing back on the cream in his hand.
"hm?"
"for cleaning me up and that, thankyou."
"yeah well you probably wouldn't have, the blood would just be dried up all over your hands and face.”
"oh shut up," you let out a light laugh and by god you sound amazing "i'm not that bad."
"sure, whatever you say.”
the room elopes in silence — comfortable silence, the kind where you're not too worried if someone speaks or not, and yet you do.
"say, how long have you been dying your hair?"
"oh, i'm not sure, wh-" his words are cut short as he feels your hands snake up his undercut and into the dyed strands atop his head. shit he thinks, he so badly wants to look up at you, but he knows that if he does he won't be able to look away.
"it's really soft, what conditioner do you use? it must be good for it to not be completely dead."
"yeah." he stutters slightly, but just enough that you might not have been able to hear it. god he hopes you didn't hear it.
he still doesn't answer your question, staying quiet for a good minute or so before you decide to take action. gently tugging at his hair, an indication for him to look at you, he puts down whatever he was fiddling with and his eyes meet yours. they're a lot wider than normal, he almost looks scared, but from the dusting of pink spread across his cheeks you can tell it's something different. hes nervous.
“osamu, did you hear me?” the way you’re lightly scratching at his scalp turns him to putty in your hands. “i asked you a question.”
“uhm..i started dying it when i was like 13? so about 5 years now. and whatever conditioner my ma brings home.” you hum in approval as you continue to mess around with his hair.
“you know…i should probably finish bandaging you up.” he makes a start at grabbing some plasters to put over your bruised and bloody knuckles, avoiding eye contact even harder than before.
“wow, you wanna get rid of me that quickly? youre cold osamu.”
thats gets him to look at you.
“i never said that.”
“dont act dumb now, i heard you loud and clear.”
“youre putting words in my mouth.”
“oh so you’re accusing me now? this isnt the osamu i know and love.” as soon as that last word falls from your lips osamu burns a crimson red from his face to his neck and probably lower, choking on his spit and trying to catch his breath. if only you had your phone on you.
“you what?” he can finally speak by the looks of it.
“i love you. dont act like you didnt know.”
“yn, tell me youre joking.”
“are you rejecting me right now? thats a mean way to do it dont you think?”
“are you kidding me? ive had a crush on you since we were 15.”
“i know, why dont you do something about it?” you say with a sly smirk. he still looks on edge at the whole interaction, but theres no time like the present.
he lifts up his large and calloused hands to grab both sides of your face before bringing you into a sweet but passionate kiss, it doesnt last long as you are both conscious of the fact that anyone could walk into the schools medical room, but it is just enough to leave you both satisfied after years of pining. pulling away you are met with that boyish smile you fell in love with all those years ago.
“now that i think about it, im kinda glad you got into that fight…”
“so am i.”
#the end is very rushed so just ignore that#this has been in my drafts for months and i got sick of looking at it LMAO#i hate drabbles so much#this didnt turn out the way i wanted it to at all#lav.posts♡#haikyuu#hq x you#hq imagines#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff#osamu x reader#osamu x y/n#miya osamu#miya osamu x reader#hq osamu#hq miya osamu#haikyuu miya osamu#miya osamu imagine#osamu imagine#osamu drabble#haikyuu osamu#osamu x you
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went to my first con in 4 years on Friday to meet Kaiji Tang and got a Dazai autograph + video recording of him reading to me. He was the sweetest person (as I knew he would be) and interacting with him was lovely, but also at the same time oh boy it sure was an extremely stressful, ugly wake-up call of what it feels like to live in a world now where everyone around you has blissfully moved on from covid and can enjoy things normally and happily, while you'll forever be trapped in a hellscape of perpetual fear 🫠🫠🫠
#like. to be clear this was the first time i've been literally anywhere but doctor's appointments in 4 years#not just because of the pandemic but because of mental and physical exhaustion#so it was a Big Mistake to go from 0 to 100 and not ease myself into it at all#but at the same time........ it was a fucking hellscape of people. i don't think any kind of buildup could have prepared me for it at all.#it was so much less crowded in 2020 (ironically the very last place i ever went; literally on the BRINK of covid)#and now idk what it's become. a monster con. it was unbelievable.#but i was only there for less than an hour but i was so so so terrified that i very nearly left before even seeing him#i couldn't even fully enjoy meeting him as kind as he was because i was so anxious and distracted#and when i got back to the car i just fucking cried.........#the last five days i've just been sitting in fear waiting to feel Any sort of symptoms#i wore two masks and again was barely there for long but Still#and everyone around me was so chill as if everything was normal and No One was wearing a mask :))))) it's not fucking fair man :)))))#insert the 'they don't know' meme; they don't know how much covid can destroy your body even if you get a 'mild' case#i would never want to be that ignorant even if i wasn't disabled and didn't have reason to worry (but everyone has reason to worry!!!)#but also. ignorance is bliss and it just really fucking sucks man.#it really fucking sucks. why do they get to be happy and enjoying life and not /me?/#why can't i do just ONE thing for myself without having it tainted by anxiety and fear that i'm going to die horribly???#while they get to do fucking EVERYTHING???#if they all just wore masks we could all enjoy ourselves much more comfortably than some of us are now#but no that's too much to ask from people 🙃🙃🙃#shit sucks man. the world sucks. something that should be a happy memory for me was simultaneously the most awful experience#and i don't know how to feel about it now that it's over#he knew that i was afraid and at the end he told me that he hoped to see me again at another event someday#and that made me cry because it felt like dazai telling me to live. and i want to. but i don't know how to when the world is like this now.#i desperately want to be able to see him again someday but right now after how terrifying that was i never want to go to a con ever again..#i wanted to ask him things about the manga and about dazai but i was being rushed and stressed so i couldn't ugh#(and doing that is hard enough anyway cause disability and i have to talk with my phone bahhhh)#at least i was able to give him my note *sigh*
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I posted about it on Dreamwidth a couple of days ago, but I just saw another post about how Obi-Wan amputating three of Anakin’s limbs and leaving him to burn alive under the assumption that he’ll die eventually is actually 100% morally fine and does not indicate any flaw in his character.
#i don't even know how people can watch the ot and come away thinking he's beyond criticism but the pt is on another whole level#NO this is not worse than anakin's own actions but that doesn't make it actually okay to do esp at that point in the fight#my best friend (who is very geeky but not into transformative fandom) called and we ended up talking about for a long time#and reached the conclusion that a) the situation is potentially very interesting and complex#but the rush to defend obi-wan's purity or whatever ignores all that in favor of the most boring possible interpretation of him#and b) the defense is virtually always underpinned by the rationale that there's some threshold of evil#at which it is justifiable to leave someone to slowly burn to death (and often the argument implies that /anything/ obi-wan did#or opted not to do#would be morally justified because anakin is evil#so not just specifically leaving him to burn to death but like. anything at all)#which is ethically repugnant imo and would bother me even more if i thought most people actually believe that#(i think most people who make that argument are driven more by character stanning than commitment to that ethic)#(but still very yikes)#anghraine babbles#sw fanwank#obi wan critical#anghraine rants
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how i met your mother — gojo satoru
contents. fluff, meet ugly, established relationship, highschool!gojo in flashback, gojo just loves his wife and everyone is sick of it
notes. this is apart of my indulge me series but everything can be read as a standalone!
“you forgot to give me a kiss this morning,” your husband pouts from your lap before puckering his lips out, “i’ll need a thousand more to compensate!”
just a couple meters away from you, paper crinkles harshly as nanami, your fellow colleague, flips the page on the newspaper he’s reading. you hear a heavy sigh leave his lips. “i missed it when you both hated each other,” he readjusts his glasses with one hand tiredly. he’s disappointed, but not surprised with satoru’s behavior.
this comment causes itadori, who happened to be hanging out in the teacher’s lounge to perk up.
“gojo-sensei and gojo-san hated each other?” he sits up straight on the couch. the pink haired boy looks between you and satoru, who is purring happily as you play with his hair. “i can’t imagine that..” he mumbles quietly. he was, unfortunately, a first hand witness of gojo’s love for you.
the white haired male that was comfortably nestled in your lap looks up at you, “ah! she tried so hard to resist my charms, but this handsome face won in the end!” his loud boast leads you to cover his mouth with the palm of your hand.
“that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” you press your palm harder against his mouth, determined to silence his protests.
nanami easily ignores his senior’s muffled whines while itadori looks at his sensei in pity. marriage must be tough, he thinks.
you only lift your hand off of his mouth with a shriek when satoru decides to lick your palm. he smirks proudly at himself causing the other two males in the room to grimace at the strange display of affection.
“darling, you hated me?” his eyes blink up at you innocently, blue eyes on full display. you purse your lips together, resisting whatever game he was playing at. from the moment you stepped into the lounge with him, he insisted on taking his blindfold off. he argues that he has to see you with his own eyes or he’ll die. you argue that he’s dramatic. nonetheless, satoru was cute so you’ll let him get away with it.
“hate is a strong word– i just didn’t like you very much. we got off on the wrong foot, might i remind you.”
2005 — year one at tokyo jujutsu tech
meet at 1 chome-1-1 dogenzaka, shibuya city, tokyo
that was written in the letter addressed to you from yaga. the bustling streets of tokyo, filled with the cacophony of hundreds of conversations and the rush of oncoming traffic, were a stark contrast to the serene country life you had enjoyed.
the sheer mass of people in the street made it nearly impossible for you to spot your teacher and future classmates, but the heavens above must be on your side because you spot a dark uniform in the corner of your eye, similar to the one you’re wearing.
a jujutsu tech uniform! without wasting a second, you weave your way through the crowd to the tall figure. upon closer inspection, you find that it was a boy with snow hair, a juxtaposition to the dark fabric of his uniform.
“excuse me, but are you by any chance from–” you tap on the abnormally tall frame from behind.
“not interested.” he doesn’t spare you a glance before walking away. it takes you a minute to process what had just happened. did he just–? that must have been a figment of your imagination. you feel as though you were shell shocked.
another voice joins the conversation, “oh, gojo, you found her.” it was another guy with a uniform just like the white haired boy and yours. he has notable bangs, you think.
“did i? she must be a real weakling. i couldn’t even sense her cursed energy,” gojo now turns back to look at you.
a surge of irritation courses through you, your grip on your skirt tightening. this guy must be some spoiled brat that came from a special lineage. you shoot him a sharp glare from the corner of your eyes, only to find out that he too had a sharp gaze on you.
a low whistle comes out of his mouth.
“oh,” there is a noticeable change in the tone of his voice. from your peripheral vision, you notice him take off his round sunglasses. “hey.” you want to laugh.
out of pure pettiness, you recycle his previous comment, “not interested.”
thankfully, another student arrived, this time it was a girl with short brown hair. she waved at you politely, to which you happily smiled. it was nice to know that there were some people left in this world with manners.
soon after her arrival, yaga comes.
“hello, i’m [last name] [first name] from kyoto. please take care of me!” you bow before everyone but gojo or whatever his name is. you come to find out that mr. bangs is actually geto and the pretty girl is ieiri.
“you didn’t tell me she was hot,” gojo not-so-quietly whispers to geto. the hand over his mouth is in vain because you can still hear him clearly. both ieiri and geto make a distasteful face.
you look around confused. it’s not everyday you receive such a brash compliment, “...thank you?”
there’s a slightly horrified look on gojo’s face when he realizes that you had heard him, but he recovers quickly, replacing it with a cheshire grin.
“say, have you been to shinjuku? i’m sure a country bumpkin like you wouldn’t know, so allow me to–”
there’s only so much patience in your body. with a deep breath and your best passive aggressive smile, you utter, “no thanks.”
he blinks. once. twice. you assume he is not used to rejection with the way he has yet to process it.
a soft chuckle leaves his mouth, “playing hard to get, i see. i like a challenge.”
“that’s not really the case.”
“one date,” he announces with a playful smirk, raising a single finger in emphasis.
you’re on the verge of shaking your head in rejection, but before you can, yaga intervenes, swiftly and unceremoniously slapping the back of gojo’s head.
“kids these days,” he mutters under his breath while gojo rubs the wound painfully. you snicker.
gojo straightens up when the sound of your laughs reaches his ears. his eyes track the sound waves back to your face, only to be disappointed when he sees that your attention is on geto.
unlike gojo, geto was trying to salvage what was left of a good first impression. the black haired male smiles awkwardly, leading you away from his strange friend, “so you’re from kyoto? why didn’t you attend the jujutsu tech there?”
from behind you, there’s an incredulous, “eh? and lose a beauty like that to the kyoto guys?”
you’re nearly certain that a blood vessel is about to pop. but you swallow your frustration, choosing to answer the only sensible boy you’ve met today.
“i’m trying to avoid clan matters, so kyoto is the last place i want to be,” you explain to geto who nods understandingly.
what you don’t see is the sneaky wink he sends back at a fuming satoru.
2018 — present day
your recollection must not have been accurate, because your husband is sulking by the end of your story.
“hmph. that’s not how i remember it.” he crosses his arm with a huff.
“how do you remember it? do tell.” you look down at him. there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap.
there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap. “i remembered cherry blossoms falling and more hearts floating around,”
you smack his shoulder.
“be serious!”
he waves his hand in the air to stop your playful attacks, “fine, fine!”
you know that he’s secretly enjoying the attention.
“well, i’m quite the looker so it was common for girls to constantly gush over me y’know?” he grins. you did not find that amusing, retracting your hands from his hair. he immediately grabs your hand and places it back on his head.
“let me finish!”
you resume your handiwork on his head reluctantly. “go on.”
there’s a content smile on his face, “i thought you were just trying to hit on me! it was only after i took a good look at you, i realized that you were totally hot.”
“i can’t believe i married you.” you roll your eyes, but there is no malice behind the action.
“hah–” his mouth is wide open. “i’m a total catch, ya’ know?!”
“mhm, yeah. you are a catch toru,” you coo while pinching his cheek and he blushed furiously.
the two of you are too engrossed with each other to notice the horrified look that has settled on nanami’s face. one peaceful afternoon, he thinks. one peaceful afternoon is all he asks for.
extra notes-
yuji respects gojo as his teacher, but he still can’t believe that gojo was able to pull you.
there have been multiple occasions where you had forgotten to give satoru a goodmorning kiss, each time he finds you and forces you to actually give him a dozen to compensate. it doesn’t matter if he was on a mission or teaching (he’s annoying like that).
gojo’s the pride of the gojo clan so he was spoiled rotten, hence the reason why he was so sure you were into him.
this is only the start, as your high school years go by, he only falls harder.
#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojou satoru x reader#gojou satoru x you#gojo fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojou x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x you#jjk x reader#remember spring days!au
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FOREVER GRATEFUL | JJK
PAIRING: jeon jungkook x fem!reader.
SUMMARY: jeon jungkook was a man like no other, one that cared for you and your sinful needs more than he should, and for that you will forever be grateful.
WC: 5.6k
WARNINGS: age gap, jungkook’s older than reader (although there’s no mention of a specific age), their relationship is not the healthiest but they manage, jk’s line of work is not specified but it is hinted that it’s illegal, small (very small) mention of blood, pet names (doll, princess, pretty girl…), it is hinted —and mentioned, that reader doesn’t have much experience about sex, smut, pwp (porn with plot because I got carried away, but only here and there), restraining, blindfolding, unprotected sex (be better), fingering, light choking, biting, marking, name calling (slut, dumb), jk cumming inside reader, i kinda rushed the end so it’s not that good tbh. 18+ only!
A/N: so… this is my first time writing for the boys since I created my account, I hope this is not as bad as I think it is and that you can enjoy your reading. Lmk what you think and also, english is not my first language so if there’s any grammar/spelling mistakes pls just ignore them <3!
masterlist
“Stay still.”
A husky voice rang into your ears, making a feeling as warm as the sun start to spread through your whole body; an electrifying sensation running through your veins, while goosebumps found solace on your skin. His voice has always been your favorite sound. The raspiness and low register adorning the man’s voice often got you weak in the knees, whenever he would whisper to you or call your name. And this time was no different, however, it seemed to have a stronger power over you. As magnetic as the voice of a siren, pulling the unlucky sailors out of the safety of their boats and into the depths of the cold water of the ocean; ready to devour them in such a frenzy that the last thing you could hear from the poor men was the start of a plea that would forever be unfinished.
Regardless of the difference between scenarios, the comparison seemed to be fitting. Jeon Jungkook was often described as magnetic, with the words alluring and charming following not so far behind. It would explain why you were found in such an interesting predicament at the moment.
A chill breeze brushing over your warm, bare skin, snapped you out of your wandering thoughts. The indication was short and simple. Discard your clothes from the very first moment you walk into the room and wait for him in bed. And so, your body, as many times before, was left completely exposed to Junkook’s hungry eyes; moreover, his eagerness to devour you was crystal clear, not daring to hide his fervent desire of having another taste of your sweet body. Watching you like a predator would to its prey.
His hands were tingling with excitement, for the future adventure both of you would go through, in a matter of minutes. Tonight, like many others, was dedicated solely to you, to your enjoyment; for you to, once again, discover a part of yourself that has yet to see the morning sun and yet to taste the deliciousness of the unknown. A new experience, a new journey, a brand new feeling for you to replay over and over again in your head, during those painfully lonely nights, when you could only find calmness in the feather-like touch of your fingers, running through your needy and greedy body.
Jungkook, however, knew exactly what he was doing by making you wait until your breaking point, waiting for a whine to fall from your precious lips, or for your desperate hand to reach out to him, whatever happens first, but in a silent plea for even a sliver of his attention. He had memorized every gesture, every reaction, every movement you would do, and it entertained the man more than it should.
“You’re tense.” Jungkook pointed out, easing the knots in your shoulders with his skillful hands. “What’s gotten you this aggravated, princess?”
It was the mocking tone, the graceful touch, or even his inviting eyes; whatever it was, it served as a decisive factor to push yourself forward and wrap your arms around his empty neck, like a snake would with its prey; hard and firm.
Desperate hands were first, then.
“You.” An answer was uttered, yet there was a lack of reaction from the man in front of you.
“Could’ve fooled me.” Jungkook taunted, acknowledging the power he had over you. “But don’t think I have forgotten the order I gave you.”
It left you confused for a good second, before his strong hands reached out for yours, stripping himself off from your needy touch.
“Stay still.” Jeon ordered once again, smirking once you obeyed.
You knew better than to challenge him, knowing that your safest option was to follow his instructions with no objection, if you wanted to get your awaited reward, that is.
Who would have thought that you’d be so accustomed to this routine. If asked, then give. If given, then be grateful for it.
The older man has improved your sex life in a matter of a few months, introducing your inexperienced self to the wonders of healthy and eccentric intercourse. Jungkook has proven to you many times in the span of a few months that your negative expectations of sex were granted by your poorly skilled sexual partners. Never once experiencing a dull moment since you were left in the dangerous hands of Jeon Jungkook.
If asked, then give. If given, be grateful.
Just like a believer would with whatever God sets in their path. Just like a kid would when a gift was left under the Christmas tree. You were grateful. It was easy to be. For it was gratefulness that had been installed within you from the moment yours and Jungkook’s paths have crossed.
Nonetheless, as grateful as you were, the hesitation in the back of your head didn’t seem to want to leave. The more Jungkook gave you, the more you wondered if you deserved it. But it reasoned with you that the true cause for your indecisiveness was the premise under which your relationship with the tattooed man had developed.
They don’t make men like him anymore, it’s what your friend had told you when she first introduced you to him, and it scared you. It frightened you that your only option to survive in such a cruel world was to cling to a man that was yet to explain what his line of work was. But then again, you didn’t want to know.
If Jungkook came back from work, looking unkempt and exhausted it was none of your business. That blood stain has always been on his shirt for all you knew. His sketchy friends have never once disrespected you, and that was enough for the time being. If he has broken the law, you don't need to know.
You would never know.
If asked, then give. If given, be grateful. If grateful, show it.
That’s a matter in which you could actually participate. In fact, it’s the way you were taught to be for the past few months.
You earn what you’re given, so show manners and be thankful.
Don’t question, just take. A mindset that has gotten you to where you were right now. In the bedroom of, by far, the most dangerous man in all Korea. Yet, not once has your well-being been threatened, and for that you're grateful.
And you're about to show it.
“You deserve it.” Jungkook reminded you before straying away to roam through his drawers.
The anticipation was killing you. Your eager eyes couldn’t see past his bare and muscular back facing you. Jeon thrived on the way your lustful gaze would always settle on his body, hence the lack of a shirt. Only a low waisted pair of jeans, that allowed you to see the hem of his Calvin Klein underwear, were preventing you from seeing his firm thighs.
You enjoyed the view, more than you probably should. How his muscles flexed when he moved, and the way his toned back shone under the dim light of the room.
It was such a delectable sight for your painfully sore eyes.
“You ready?” The question snapped you out of your thoughts, making you notice how close he was now.
“Yes.” You answered with light hesitation.
Your major enemy showing up once again: indecisiveness. But that wouldn’t stop you from giving yourself to the man in front of you. Not this time.
“Yes, what?” Jeon insisted. “Don’t forget your manners.”
“Yes, sir, I’m ready.” It fell naturally from your lips.
A satisfied smirk appeared on his face.
“Good girl.”
The dark haired man reached out for your wrists, placing a delicate kiss on both of them before tying them with a silky tie of his, and forcing your wandering hands to stay still once and for all.
“Do you trust me?” Jungkook gently asked.
“No, sir, I don’t.”
It was the only correct answer, and both you and Jungkook knew it.
The moment he earned your trust would be the moment he’d have to leave you behind, to fend for yourself and for you to learn how to navigate through the dark corners of your unlucky life.
Trusting him means leaving your guard down, leaving your guard down means being vulnerable, and Jungkook knew better than to be vulnerable, especially in the type of life he lived in. He didn’t want you to make that mistake, and if it meant giving you reasons to doubt him, then so be it.
“Are you gonna do as I say?” Jeon inquired.
“I will.”
“Good.” He leaned down to steal a harsh kiss from you. “You have no idea how bad I’m going to ruin you tonight.”
A slight shiver ran down your spine, knowing too well that his words were far from being an empty promise.
His tattooed hands descended on your bare body, ever so delicate, ever so tender. A stark contrast to what his real intentions were, and it left you craving more of it. Your insatiable desire for being thoroughly worshiped by his lips, his hands, all of him. It was never enough, and it will never be.
Like a stray dog in need of being fed, you needed his touch to be satisfied. Luckily for you, Jungkook was always a man to deliver everything you asked for, even if not verbally.
His eyes, never swerving from your body, took in all the reactions you gave him; from the way your lips formed a perfect o-shape, freeing the most delicious sounds, to how your back arched oh so naturally when his already trained fingers made their way towards the south part of your body. The place where he would get baptized every night, like a strong believer. Ending his thirst with the holy liquid you would suffice him with, not once asking for anything in return, but thankful of his merciful goddess showing appreciation for his dedication.
The only thing is, you weren’t a goddess and he wasn’t a believer. And the whole scenario was way more dirty in reality than what you’d often fantasize.
“Such a pretty doll.” Jungkook brought you back into reality with his husky voice, “Always so responsive.”
His middle finger traveled down to reach your entrance, teasing you with his light touch. Waiting for your reaction, waiting for you to beg. But just like he knew you so well, it was easy for you to tell when he wanted something from you. So rather than give Jungkook what he wanted, you settled for playing a game that would get you in a situation where not even God would help you.
You moved your hips ever so lightly, testing how far you could go without the tattooed man reminding you who’s in charge. Chasing his touch was easy, attaining it was a whole different story. And it was proven to you that tonight the ball was not in your court, when all you got was a chuckle from the man, while he retrieved his hand and leaned down to be face to face with you.
“Have you not learned anything yet, princess?” His dark voice made you tremble in your spot. “Or have you forgotten how things work around here, hm?”
Unwilling to answer, the only response he got from you was a strained whine, yet Jeon could see the desperation in your eyes, the fervent desire to be ruined by him, to be left defenseless and at his complete mercy. Your body wasn’t yours anymore; it stopped being yours the moment he set his eyes on you.
Jeon Jungkook owned you, that much was obvious. And as terrifying as it was, the fact was equally thrilling.
“How badly do you want me?” He tried again, with a question that drove you crazy. “Be good for me and say the words, princess.”
Wasn’t it evident? People often thought that you were too harsh to deal with, too rude, too much to handle. It didn’t offend you, nor did it crack your heart whenever someone would complain about your hot temper and crude attitude. However, at this precise moment, you were giving the man in front of you exactly what he was asking for, albeit not verbally, but your body was working on its own accord. For every light touch, Jeon would get a shiver, squirming, even a plea from your eyes. Any reaction that was in the books, you were already serving it for him.
Nonetheless, it seemed like you weren’t compliant enough for the older man.
“So bad.” You opted to respond instead, finally giving in. “I need you, I want you. Please, sir.”
It was like music to his ears. Your delightful voice, flying through the room as if it were the sweetest melody. Not even the singing of an angel would achieve the reaction that you were pulling from Jungkook right now. Just listening to you beg for him, that’s all Jeon ever wanted.
“You are being so good and polite, baby.” He praised you. “I’ll give you what you need, but…” The dark haired man drifted off, pulling out a blindfold from the back of his jeans. “I’m afraid we’ll do it my way.”
Terrifying, as looking into the depths of a deserted forest, but it was sinful enough for you to crave it. It was exciting regardless of what the whole ordeal entailed. Therefore, when the tall man approached you, with a silky blindfold resting on his hands, you were ready to follow his orders with no objections.
In a matter of seconds you were deprived of Junkook’s hard features, leaving you with a view of pure darkness, and causing your body to start squirming and moving around due to the anticipation. It was difficult to find calmness in such a stressful moment, but you managed. However, Jeon decided to start toying with you, taking advantage of the fact that you were unaware of your surroundings. And so his fingers commenced a trip down the tender flesh of your neck, rapidly traveling down your collarbones and lightly gracing your nipples, only for later on to pinch both of your buds in a harsh manner, one that ripped a strained gasp out of your mouth.
A sardonic smile took place on his face, however, you couldn’t see it. His free hand traveled up to push your cheeks together, enjoying how plump your lips looked and not being able to resist the urge to bite them.
Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his teeth sinking in the flesh of your lips, along with the way his fingers were kneading every inch of your body.
“Relax and stay still.” Jeon ordered. “I know you’ll love this.”
His soothing voice was helping you to calm down, but it wasn’t enough. The sensations that were running through your body and the lack of proper touch left you in an unbearable agony. You craved to feel him closer, for his skin touching yours, for his breath mixing with yours while your bodies were intertwined in a passionate race to free both of your souls. What he was giving you wasn’t enough, but then again, when has it been?
A greedy little thing, that’s what Jungkook has always called you. And rightfully so, because you longed for him in ways no one else had done, and it scared him. Jeon was afraid you might be too attached to him, moreover, to your own idea of him. The way you would reach for his hand, almost as second nature, when you were out and about, or how your eyes always gravitated towards his figure whenever he stepped into a room. That terrified him. Because it meant you were addicted to him in the same way he was to you, and that could only mean trouble in the long run.
Tonight, however, was not about his fears and insecurities. Tonight was meant to be for you; to supply you with the utmost pleasure you were able to handle, and even if you couldn’t, Jungkook was willing to give you more than what you asked for. So rather than letting his mind wander to places he wasn’t fond of, the man decided to grant you what you were desperately looking for.
His slender fingers slid into your warm hole, filling you up as best as possible. Moving in ways that would haunt you forever, as a reminder that no one —not even yourself, will be able to touch you and treat you like he could.
“There you go…” He muttered, so close to your ear that made you shiver. “Is that enough for my little slut?”
His husky voice echoed through every corner of the room, pulling a light gasp out of you. It wasn’t strange for you to hear him say such lewd things or call you such unspeakable names, but every single time he did, it awakened a wild sensation within you.
Answering to his question you shook your head no, adamant to get more of him, and desperately wanting to be filled to the brim with something more than his fingers.
“More…” You begged. “Please, more.”
His fingers were avidly moving, pumping in and out of your velvety walls at a steady pace. His touch seemed to be enhanced and it felt much more than any other time. Whether it was because you couldn’t see nor could you touch anything, or because of his skillful movements, you couldn’t tell. Nevertheless, there was no complaint. It felt terribly good.
“Yes, please don’t stop.”
Your whiny voice was making Jungkook experience unspeakable things. He was eager to have you, eager to touch you, eager to have a taste of you. But more importantly, so desperate to fuck you. In the same way he awakened a wild side of you with his dark stare, you drove him absolutely crazy with the little noises you made. Furthermore, having you underneath him, moaning his name while squirming in pleasure, and feeling pure bliss due to how good he made you feel, was boosting his ego.
Jeon Jungkook was a man that always strived to be praised, even for the little and insignificant things. So to say he was thrilled and satisfied by the way you were chanting his name like a sinful prayer, along with how your body was responding insanely good to his touch, would be an enormous understatement.
He was on the verge of losing control and claiming you in such an animalistic way, that would leave anyone who happened to be near his room, concerned for your well-being.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look like this?” It was a question that didn’t need an answer.
Jungkook was entranced by the way you were reacting to his touch, watching your skin coated in goosebumps and how your legs would try to wrap around his waist to pull him closer, in need of him. It has always amazed him how innocent and clueless you looked and acted on the daily, yet somehow you knew what to do to make him act up, to drive him crazy. It was as if you were just pretending to know nothing just to tease him, just to make him never leave you, but deep down Jungkook knew you were sincere.
Your life has been tough, to say the least, and he knew you were in need of guidance, in need of someone to hold your hand and walk you through the crude stages of life. Jeon has never told you, but part of the reason why he took interest in you was due to his protective instinct. The older man knew you needed protection, from who or what? It wasn’t clear, but he instantly knew he was the right one to do it.
Oddly enough, there was no one better than the most dangerous man in South Korea to keep you safe.
But the way you would act so innocently drove him crazy.
Even when you tried to act confident, there was this sprinkle of hesitation every time you did something —indecisiveness striking again. And it was difficult to ignore it, moreover, it was difficult to hide it. The man could see right through your weak act, and spot your nervousness from miles away.
Even when you sucked him off in his office after a tiring meeting, he knew you were slightly scared to do such a thing.
Someone pretending to be clueless wouldn’t act as eager and clumsy as you did back then, although there has been some improvement since that time. Your teeth wouldn’t make an appearance anymore, you would use the right amount of saliva to make it messy but still look appealing for Jeon. The man loved how now you use more of your tongue to tease his tip and how far he could go into your throat. But none of that would’ve been attained without his help.
If given, be grateful. If grateful, show it.
It all goes back to the same predicament: you often showing your thankfulness for every little thing Jungkook has done for you.
He saved you, in the same way that a human would take an injured bird into their home to help it heal. Only for the person to cage it after the bird it’s back on its feet. Whereas Jeon Jungkook saved you from your previous way of living, he also owned you, preventing you from leaving his side.
Your broken moan snapped the dark haired man back into reality. His eyes were glazed with lust, looking right down on you and your tempting body.
“Are you close yet, doll?”
He knew you were. Jungkook could feel you clenching on his fingers, but he wanted to hear it from you.
“Yes, I’m so close.” You whined.
Your hands were moving so much, trying to break free from the tie that was preventing you from touching him. Jeon silently enjoyed it, he enjoyed how addicted to him you were, that it was a torture for you to not touch him in any way. You were so accustomed to feeling him, every single inch, that being restrained felt like pure hell.
“Please… More, faster…” You once again begged, and this time Jungkook couldn’t handle it.
Ignoring your protests, he pulled his fingers out, rapidly stripping off the rest of his clothes to position himself in between your legs. Because yes, he was on the verge of losing control before, but now his racional side flew out the window, and so he couldn’t wait a second longer to be wrapped in the warmth of your walls, ready to take him in.
“My sweet girl, don’t be impatient.” Jungkook cooed at you. “I’ll give you something better.”
Without further ado, he thrusted into you with a hard pump. It ripped a moan out of you, making you tug at the tie even more. You were beyond annoyed that you couldn’t touch him nor could you see his beautiful figure while he fucked you, although it enhanced the rest of your senses.
You could hear his little noises more clearly, feel his touch even better than you usually would, and taste him so much more in every kiss he gave you. It was truly a blessing and a curse.
“You’re so tight, Y/n.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth, preventing himself from moving manically just yet.
Jeon could see the struggle in your face, the way you were clenching on his dick so hard that it was almost impossible for him to move. No matter how many times he’s fucked you, you would never get accustomed to his size. But in reality, the actual problem was that the man hasn’t done exactly that in a while.
Truth be told, there was a reason for your eagerness, for your desperation. For your ambition to have more of him. Jungkook has been neglecting you the past couple of days, perhaps not on purpose, but his line of work has required him to travel to the other side of the world for a whole week. And now that he was back you were ready to trap him in your limbs for as long as you could have him.
“I haven’t fucked you in a while that your pussy is already forgetting how my cock feels, huh?” He acknowledged the situation. “Maybe I’ll have to remind this tight cunt who owns it.”
Without a warning, he gave a hard thrust once again, bottoming out. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t forget how big his dick was or how good it felt. Many nights you fantasized about his fat cock pounding into you while the only thing you could use to pleasure yourself was your fingers. It was such a sad comparison, especially because it proved that what he once told you was completely true.
No one will be ever able to satisfy your carnal needs in the same way that he does. No one will be able to make you come undone with their touch. You could only daydream about Jungkook rocking into you hard and rough, during those lonely nights when the only thing you could use was your small fingers.
Luckily for you, now you have it, the real thing. Now you could feel the tip of his cock hitting every right spot the more the thrusted into you. His veiny member slamming over and over into your throbbing cunt, crying for more of him.
“So fucking greedy. My dirty slut can never get enough of me, huh?” Jungkook groaned, “Look at you, already a mess and I’ve barely done anything, sweetheart.”
It was such a true statement. Even if there was no way for you to look at yourself, you were sure of your disheveled appearance. Sweat was coating your skin, making your messy hair stick to your forehead and nape, your lips were now swollen and shiny due to the wet kisses Jeon has shared with you.
But it has always been like this. Jeon always knew what to do, what to say, how to touch you to turn you into a babbling and whiny mess, one who could only chant his name and ask for more, like the little ambitious and greedy girl you were. Regardless of the way you would sometimes demand more of his attention, more of his touch, he loved it. The tattooed man loved how ruined you looked at the end of your rendezvous, staring at your tear stained cheeks and swollen lips. Jungkook was always fascinated by how fucked out you were once he was done with everything, it was his favorite look on you.
“You like this, don’t you? Being used like a fuck toy, not being able to do anything to fight me.” The older man let out a dark chuckle, while one of his hands crept up to wrap itself around your throat. “So defenseless and needy, letting me do anything to you.”
The more he talked the closer you got. You knew it was a matter of time for you to cum. And you couldn’t be more thankful for that.
Jungkook kept rocking into you at a rapid and harsh pace, fucking your brains out while calling you names that he knew would pull a reaction out of you.
“My dumb baby, taking me so well.” He praised you. “You always know how to take my cock, willing to let me fuck this pretty pussy however I want.”
You could only nod, gasping for air and moving your hips to meet his thrusts as best as possible. It was like a race to see which one would finish first, although it was clear that the man ramming into you would not relent until you were crying and shaking underneath him.
“Fuck, you drive me crazy.” He confessed, leaning down to kiss your soft lips.
His free hand traveled down in between your legs to place his skilled thumb over your clit. His movements were like a bucket of cold water poured over your burning skin. It calmed the building fire in between your legs, just as much as it fueled your already approaching orgasm.
“You feel so amazing around my dick.” Jeon hissed over your lips, hypnotized by the way his aching cock would get lost into your soaked cunt.
“Oh god…” You moaned. “Please don’t stop, I’m so fucking close.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” A promise, far from being empty.
It was clear that Jeon was getting close as well by the way he so desperately was pounding into you, moaning lowly and leaning down to bite your neck.
His lips and teeth were doing wonders on your skin, marking you up with his bites and sucking on your flesh as well. Jungkook was devouring you, tasting you, ruining you as he promised.
“Holy shit…” He said in a raspy voice. “You’re all mine, aren’t you? Only I can make you feel like this.”
“Yes, yes, yes…” You chanted back, but it wasn’t enough for him.
“Come on, tell me, pretty girl.” He requested. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours. I’m all yours.” You slurred your words out.
It only encouraged the man to fuck you harder, meaner, faster… Exactly how you liked it. Jungkook was aware of it, he knew you like the palm of his hand, and although it was concerning how much he knew about you, it also came in handy in moments like this.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Jungkook alerted you, snapping both of you from your wandering thoughts.
“Cum, inside me.” You croaked out, biting on your bottom lip.
It was a risky request, something that you might regret in the future, not only because you weren’t on any contraception, but it entailed being connected to him in such an intimate way, one that neither of you were ready for.
“Are you sure?” He asked with a soft tone, yet you could hear the agitation in his voice. “Are you okay with… oh fuck, with me cumming in you?”
“Yes, yes, please. Just do it, fill me up, please.” You struggled to say. “I need to feel your cum deep inside me.”
Jungkook felt like dying with the lewd words you were spewing.
You were drunk on the ecstasy of the whole experience. Not being able to look at your surroundings, being restrained, the way Jeon was pistoning into you, hitting spots that no one has ever been able to reach before; the sinful words spilling from his lips, his hand still wrapped around your neck, albeit more loosely now. Everything was clouding your mind and leaving you in such a lax state, that prevented you from forming any coherent thought.
Regardless, your consensual words were all he needed to let go, shooting his hot cum inside of your greedy pussy.
“Oh god…” Jungkook moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
His orgasm triggered yours, throwing you over the edge in a matter of seconds, right after he came. Your whimpers were loud and high pitched, your body was burning and trembling, and you were sure the light makeup you were previously wearing was smudged by now.
You were panting, trying your best to calm your agitated breathing. Jungkook was still inside of you, with his face hidden in your neck, breathing as heavily as you were. Both still intertwined in a mess of sweaty limbs.
After a few minutes where both of you recovered from the intense orgasms you just had, Jeon finally pulled out, separating himself from you. His hands flew up to free yours, making you whine softly; he placed a soft kiss on both of your wrists, making sure the tie didn’t hurt you. The blindfold came off next, and it took a few seconds for your eyes to get used to the dim light after seeing pure darkness.
“How was it?”
A simple question, one that, in the ears of an oblivious listener, would mean nothing. An inquiry that held more significance and concern than a simple are you okay?; it was subtle but it spoke volumes the way Jeon Jungkook would still feel the need to protect you, even from himself.
He never voiced his worries properly, trying to play it cool but secretly concerned that he might have hurt you in any way. The man never learnt how to correctly communicate with others, but he would be damned if he didn’t express how much he cared for you in other ways.
“Amazing…” Was your response, albeit in a hoarse voice.
Your throat was slightly aggravated, feeling terribly dry after attempting to voice the pleasure and enjoyment from the experience, through the small space there was left from Jungkook’s hard grip on it. However, it didn’t stop you from answering his concerns.
Amazing, fascinating.
It was the only way to describe it, your mind was too foggy to think of a proper answer, but by the way he was smirking you could tell he was satisfied with your response.
“Good.” He nodded. “Don’t move, I’ll bring a towel to clean you up and a bottle of water.”
Before he could step out of the room your weak voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Wait…” You called for him.
If asked, then give; if given, be grateful. If grateful, show it.
“Thank you.” A small whisper was all it took for the man to walk back at you, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.
“Get some rest, I’ll be right back.”
You were left alone in the big room, spread out on the mattress while your mind was trying to comprehend all the events that just happened. Your heart was filled with questions, but you knew better than to ponder over those inquiries.
Jeon Jungkook was a man like no other, one that cared for you more than he should, and for that you will be forever grateful.
#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#jk x reader#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#bts smut#bts x reader#jungkook fic#🥢town originals!#🥢.townsmut!
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Hungry Eyes
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Summary: The team overhears Nat and Y/N's 'girl talk' through the comms and feelings surface as a result.
Warnings: Suggestive content. Sex references.
Words: 956
A/N: I don't know what this is or where it came from, but if this goes down well I may write up something a little spicy for a part 2 *eyebrow wiggle* PART 2 CAN BE FOUND HERE
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“Bucky's done nothing but undress you with his eyes since you walked in,” Natasha's husky voice came over your earpiece and your eyes snapped to the super soldier on the other side of the room, your cheeks reddening to find him already staring in your direction.
You let your gaze casually pass over him, playing the brief moment of eye contact off as a coincidence as you scanned the room for the mission, but your heart was pounding and you were sure he could probably hear it.
“Doubtful,” you scoffed, though you couldn't ignore the tingle that travelled up your spine at the thought of Bucky finding you attractive. You'd had the hots for him for months, but your fear of rejection strongly outweighed your desire to tell him so you'd kept your little secret to yourself…and Nat of course.
“Stop living in denial, anybody with half a brain can see how he practically drools over you every time he sees you,” Nat argued, and you rolled your eyes as you continued to survey the room. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, it’s true.”
“Stop watching me, you know it creeps me out when I can’t see you,” you hissed, eyes roaming the crowd in an attempt to spot the redhead.
“If you could see me, I wouldn’t be very good at my job,” she teased, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes again.
“Just hurry up and do your job, Romanoff - the quicker we finish and I can get out of this dress the better,” you stated, readjusting the silky garment that Natasha herself had picked out for you. It suited your cover well, but it was a little provocative for your usual tastes.
“I’m sure Barnes would agree with you on that one…”
“As much as I’m enjoying watching Bucky squirm from this conversation, head’s up that this is an open channel,” Sam’s voice cutting in over the comms caused any reply you had prepared for Natasha to die on your tongue, the blood draining from your face as you turned to look at Bucky.
The super soldier was no longer on his mark, but as you searched the crowd you caught a glimpse of him as he was making a swift exit. More than anything you wanted to follow him, to defuse the awkwardness and recover from the embarrassment of him overhearing Nat’s comments, but you stayed rooted to the spot, unable to leave your position.
“Go,” Nat urged, as though sensing your inner turmoil. “Me and Sam have got this.”
A quick look towards Sam confirmed that he agreed, and you wasted no time in hurrying towards the same door Bucky had gone through moments ago.
Surprisingly, he hadn’t gone very far, and you found him leaning against the wall in the foyer. Heat rushed to your cheeks as his eyes landed on you, and you smiled sheepishly as you approached.
“Hey Buck,” you softly said as you reached him. “Sorry about what you heard back there - Nat was just teasing, she didn’t mean any of it.”
“Didn’t she?” He asked, raising a single eyebrow.
“What?” You frowned, unsure how to interpret his response. There was a way you wanted this to go, but you didn’t want to get your wires crossed and make even more of a fool of yourself.
“You said she didn’t mean any of it, but how can you be sure?”
He pushed himself off the wall and fixed you with an intense gaze, making your knees weak and your breath short. You didn’t dare look away - afraid that if you did, this moment would end.
“I-uh…I don’t know what you’re getting at here, Buck…” you stammered, too dumbfounded to form a better response. You were very aware of how close the two of you were and the smell of his cologne and warmth emanating from his body was making your brain short circuit.
“Then let me show you.”
There was no hesitation as he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours, and you melted into him with a whimper. The sound gave him the encouragement he was looking for and he spun you round so that he could press you up against the wall, moaning into your mouth as you raked your hands through his hair.
Everything around you ceased to exist and all sense left you as you gave into your desires, the feeling of Bucky’s hands roaming your body setting your skin on fire. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you’d never even let yourself hope that Bucky might actually feel the same, yet here you were, making out with him while his sizable bulge pressed up against you.
Had Sam not cleared his throat over the comms, you were sure you’d have let the super soldier take you right there and then, regardless of the fact that you were in public and on a mission.
“Channel is still very much open, guys,” he informed, and Bucky’s eyes widened in horror as he pulled away. You giggled and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
“I’m not even sorry,” you told Sam teasingly, straightening up and readjusting your dress. You were aware of Bucky’s eyes on you and you looked up to meet his hungry gaze.
“I can’t wait to get that thing off you when we’re finished here,” he blurted, and you bit your lip as heat flooded your core.
“Then we’d better hurry up and finish,” you replied, taking him by the hand and leading him back to the main room so that you could get the mission, and later on your clothes, out of the way.
PART 2
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky imagine#bucky x reader#bucky x you#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#marvel cinematic universe#mcu#avengers#sebastian stan#fatws#winter soldier#natasha romanoff#sam wilson
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LN4 | Panic at the Disco
Summary: When you call your brother to pick you up from the club, it's his best friend who answers.
Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader
WC: 1.3K
Warnings: Maybe slight panic attack, insinuated sexual harassment/assault
Part 2
Masterlist
You rush through the club in a hurry, bumping into God knows how many people as you search for the exit. The hot, stuffy air makes it even more difficult to breathe as you keep pushing through the crowd. You can feel the wetness of your tears run down your cheeks as you reach the exit, nearly running into the bouncer checking IDs outside. You stand close to him as you wipe your cheeks and sniffle, trying to calm yourself down while you rummage through your purse in search of your phone. Taking a deep breath, you call your brother.
You wait impatiently as the phone rings. He doesn’t answer, so you call again. And again. Eventually, after three tries, the phone is picked up.
“Hello? Max?” You say rushedly.
You hear some noise on the other side. In your frenzy, you don’t realise it’s not your brother, not from the mere grumpy hello the phone is answered with.
“Can you come pick me up? Please?” The sheer panic you’re experiencing is clear in your voice. Lando can even hear your sniffling through the phone as you wipe your hand under your nose.
“Y/N? Is that you? Are you crying?” He asks, much more awake now as he sits up from his position on the couch.
“Who’s this? Lando?” You realise now that you hear him speak; it's your brother’s best friend – to your frustration.
“Yes”
“Why are you answering my brother’s phone?” You ask annoyed.
“We were just hanging out, he fell asleep and-”
“You know what – it doesn’t matter. Can you tell him to come pick me up please?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m not sure, uhm, it’s called Palace, I think.” You sniffle, “You’ll send him to get me?” You ask hopefully.
“I’ll come get you myself. I’m just putting my shoes on, I’ll be there in a bit.” He says, putting your brother’s phone on speaker mode and stepping into his shoes.
“Lando you don’t have to come, just tell Max to come pick me up, please. I need him right now.” You say, frustrated that Lando wants to come. He’s not who you want and need at this moment; you need someone who you can trust, who’ll protect you and make you feel safe after what just happened. You need your brother, a close friend, or maybe even your father, but not Lando. Why can’t he understand that? You can feel your tears welling up again in frustration.
Lando ignores you, however. “Are you safe right now? You should try to find a group of people or something, stick to them until I get there, okay?”
“Lan-” He cuts you off, in a rush to get to you.
“Do you want to stay on the phone? I’m getting in the car right now, I’ll be there in, like, eight minutes.”
“Lando, just send Max, please.”
“I’m already in the car. Do you want me to stay on the line, or not?” You hear the car revving in the background.
You sigh. Nevertheless, you’re relieved he’s on his way and you don’t have to stay here much longer. “That’s not necessary, Lando. I’m with the bouncer right now. Just come quick, please?” You’ve given up on the idea that your brother might come, Lando’s very much set in his ways.
“Of course, I’ll be right there.” Lando says firmly before hanging up.
Although you and Lando aren’t the best of friends, you get along well enough. Regardless, you get caught up in discussions quite regularly; both of you are passionate and stubborn in your opinions – it rarely happens that you and Lando do not end up being separated by your brother or a mutual friend. However, that you know exactly how to push each other's buttons doesn’t mean Lando doesn’t care about you. In fact, the opposite is true. Although he would never admit it, Lando has liked you for quite a while and cares for you deeply, even though he doesn’t generally show his feelings. And so, when you call him (well, not him specifically, but that doesn’t matter) crying and upset, he worries about you. He could’ve woken up your brother, who you obviously would have preferred over him, but he wants to be the one who’s there for you. He wants to be the one who protects you and keeps you safe – better yet, the one who makes you feel safe, if he could ever accomplish such a thing.
Lando exceeds his own expectations when he arrives at the nightclub in under five minutes. Already spotting you standing with the big, bulky bouncer, arms wrapped around yourself in an attempt to keep yourself warm in the cold, late night (or early morning) breeze. He carelessly parked his car on the side of the road, barely turning on the hazard lights before exiting the car.
“Y/N! Are you okay?” He jogs towards the club entrance, concern showing on his face.
You lifted your head at the familiar voice yelling your name. Quickly thanking the bouncer who kept you company, you rushed over to the familiar boy. You had never been so happy to see Lando.
He pulled you into his arms as soon as you were within his reach. Cradling your head and brushing your hair with one hand, while the other pulled you closer by your waist. Although you initially wanted your brother to come, this was good too – you’d even go as far as to say you were enjoying it. Despite your differences, Lando’s presence (more specifically, his strong arms holding you tight) made you feel at ease and calmed you down. He relieved the tenseness of your body and you relaxed in his hold. Hiding your face in his neck and fisting the fabric of his shirt, you nestled yourself comfortably in Lando’s body and exhaled the breath you had been holding.
He buried his nose in your hair on the top of your head, breathing in your scent and smiling at the feeling of you snuggling into him. It felt right, so right, to be holding you like this. He whispers, “Are you okay?” You merely nod your head, not wanting to leave his embrace. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” He questions further.
You stay silent, enjoying Lando’s strong hold on you. It makes you feel safe. Safe enough to share what happened in the club. “There was some random guy who thought he was entitled to my attention.” You mumble into his neck.
“He didn’t touch you, did he?” He continues, already fearing the answer.
You let a silence fall before answering, “He did,”
Lando squeezes you tighter at the revelation. He’s not surprised a man ruined your fun night out.
You continue quickly, “But there were some girls who helped me, and I think they kicked him out. I’m not sure though, I left as soon as I could. Then I called Max, but he didn’t answer, and now…”
“I’m sorry,” Lando says, a pained expression on his face. “Men are shit.”
You let out a small laugh and Lando can barely avoid shivering at the feeling of your warm breath hitting the sensitive skin of his neck. Nevertheless, he smiles in accomplishment when he hears the sound, glad he could cheer you up.
“You want to go home? To my place, I mean, Max is there…”
“Yes,” You say into Lando’s neck, sighing before distancing yourself from him.
He kisses the top of your head before letting you leave his hold, “Let’s go then.” He says, pulling you along to his car, still tucked into his side.
– – – – –
Part 2
#Lando Norris#Lando#Norris#Fanfic#Fanfiction#Lando Norris fanfic#Lando Norris fanfiction#Lando fanfic#Lando fanfiction#Lando Norris x reader#Lando Norris x Y/N#Lando x reader#Lando x Y/N#Formula 1#Formula 1 fanfic#Formula 1 fanfiction#F1#F1 fanfic#F1 fanfiction#LN4 fanfic#LN4 fanfiction#LN4 x reader#LN4 x you#LN4 imagine#LN4 one shot#LN4#Lando Norris one shot#Lando Norris imagine#Lando Norris x Fewtrell!reader
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On the subject of the Titanic ‘submersible’ that was lost in the deep with all its wealthy tourists— it’s so insane/eerie in hindsight to read this article from the Smithsonian that interviews the CEO Stockton Rush long before the disaster.
Despite the Smithsonian supposedly being an organization that cares about science and truth, and the fact that there were SO MANY obvious red flags from the beginning and so many people criticizing the company…..the article is a puff piece uncritically glorifying the CEO’s obviously terrible submersible project. It compares him in glowing terms to Elon Musk. It is an article about how private ventures like those of Stockton Rush and Elon Musk can and should be the future of the world.
We’ve obviously learned now that there were whistleblowers at the company who were warning for a long time that Stockton Rush’s submersible was unsafe— only to be fired and then sued. It makes sense the submersible was so unsafe, because the CEO in this interview is open about how he has no background in underwater engineering and is annoyed by quote “regulations that needlessly prioritize passenger safety.”
Soon after, the private [submersible] market died too, Rush found, for two reasons that were “understandable but illogical.” First, subs gained a reputation for danger. Working on offshore rigs in harsh locations like the North Sea, saturation divers, who breathe gas mixtures to avoid diving sicknesses, would be taken in subs to work at great depths. It was the world’s most perilous job, with frequent fatalities. (“It wasn’t the sub’s fault,” says Rush.) To save lives, the industries moved toward using underwater robots to perform the same work.
Second, tourist subs, which could once be skippered by anyone with a U.S. Coast Guard captain’s license, were regulated by the Passenger Vessel Safety Act of 1993, which imposed rigorous new manufacturing and inspection requirements and prohibited dives below 150 feet. The law was well-meaning, Rush says, but he believes it needlessly prioritized passenger safety over commercial innovation (a position a less adventurous submariner might find open to debate). “There hasn’t been an injury in the commercial sub industry in over 35 years. It’s obscenely safe, because they have all these regulations. But it also hasn’t innovated or grown—because they have all these regulations.”
The fact that Stockton Rush (who was piloting the submarine when the disaster happened) is on record complaining about the evils of regulations that prioritize people’s safety, and the Smithsonian uncritically regurgitated that rhetoric in their glowing puff piece about how rich tycoons like Elon Musk and Stockton Rush are going to save the world is just…..in hindsight of how everything ended it’s just so much horrible black comedy? It’s like a satire about the dangers of uncritically worshipping the rich.
It is mentioned in the article that Rush chose to make his submersible in a different shape, and with a different (cheaper) material than is usually used for submersibles. The article frames this as a result of daring innovation, and not of negligence/ignorance. This passage in particular, which in context is supposed to portray Rush’s critics as joyless naysayers who were proven wrong by the noble tycoon, is pretty foreboding in hindsight:
Rush planned to pilot the sub himself, which critics said was an unnecessary risk: Under pressure, the experimental carbon fiber hull might, in the jargon of the sub world, “collapse catastrophically.”
And then!!
The exact problem that happened to Titan this weekend, happened on Titan’s very first test voyage to the Titanic! The experimental carbon fiber hull had an issue and it caused communications to break down!
The dive was going according to plan until about 10,000 feet, when the descent unexpectedly halted, possibly, Rush says, because the density of the salt water added extra buoyancy to the carbon fiber hull. He now used thrusters to drive Titan deeper, which interfered with the communications system, and he lost contact with the support crew. He recalls the next hour in hallucinogenic terms. “It was like being on the Starship Enterprise,” he says. “There were these particles going by, like stars. Every so often a jellyfish would go whipping by. It was the childhood dream.”
Both Rush and the article writer treat this as a fun quirky story, instead of a serious safety failure and red flag with his experimental macgyvered regulation-flaunting submersible.
Other highlights from the article include:
Stockton rush saying that if 3/4 of the planet is water, why haven’t we monetized it?
Stockton saying we will “colonize the ocean long before we colonize space”
Lots of weird pro colonialism stuff in general??? This article loves colonialism and thinks it’s cool
Rush saying he plans for this to eventually help find more underwater resources for the US to exploit and profit from
Elon musk comparisons. The article writer does not mention that Elon Musk’s rockets explode and therefore it would be a bad idea to get in one of them, because that would imply it’s a bad idea to get into the submersible
Stockton rush seeing himself as Captain Kirk
The article writer comparing the tourists who plan to join Rush to Englishmen who went on colonialist journeys to Africa as if that’s like, a good thing. So much pro colonialism stuff in this article
So many sentences about Stockton Rush being handsome when he literally just looks like some guy
The article beginning with an editor’s note from years later disclaiming that the extraordinary submersible they’re advertising in this article is uh. It’s now uhhhh
But yeah it really does just bring home how so many organizations that supposedly care about scientific truth or journalistic integrity are willing to uncritically platform propaganda for wealthy CEOS. It’s frustrating how easily people fall for the fake myths that careless wealthy people invent for themselves, and even more frustrating that supposedly respectable institutions will platform irresponsible lies that end up getting people killed.
Rush is such an obvious and simple example of this, and his negligence is “only” killing five people including himself. But to me it feels like a cautionary tale to bear in mind when it comes to uncritical puff piece media coverage of similar “daring tycoon innovations” by people like Bezos or Musk.
#titanic#oceangate#titanic submersible#sorry this is just so fascinating to me#it’s like a parody or piece of satire#if it were in a novel it would feel like the symbolism was too obvious and on the nose
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𝘽𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙣 & 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩
: ̗̀➛ Mattheo Riddle x Fem!reader | Brief!Harry Potter x fem!reader
: ̗̀➛ Summary: Jealousy makes the heart grow fonder.
: ̗̀➛ Warnings: Alcoholism, Dark!fic, Ravenclaw!reader, Bullying, Unrequited Love, Shy!reader, Toxic Relationship, Jealousy, Narcissism, Weaponizing!Harry (sorry boo), Fluff, A bit of Angst, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), DubCon, Semi Public sex, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Dom/Sub, CNC, humping, Spitting, Degradation, Dacryphillia, Choking, Gagging, Subspace, Slapping, Sadism, Breeding Kink
5k words
A/N: Hell truly is empty. I apologise in advance.
You have made peace with the incomparable fact, long ago, that if the muggle God existed - if he is known to shepard Muggles and Wizards alike, then he was far too busy to attend to you. There is just too much going on all at once. The wizarding world is caught in its archaic intolerance of Half-Bloods. On the mortal side, you were informed from your private tutoring with Professor McGonagall that their smartphones are threatening devolution.
“It’s the closest thing they’ve got to a wand, Lovie, so we can’t really fault them on that, can we?” 6 years into your schooling at Hogwarts and you would continue to shadow Professor McGonagall, hoping you might one day soar to her heights of academic prestige in the wizarding world. You needed to be a Professor as much as a mortal needs to breathe….
You cannot let him, of all people, ruin things. Your reputation is a fragile, flammable thing - and he is freaking Kerosene.
It's difficult to pinpoint when it started or how your sensibilities rushed away from you so swiftly. One moment you’re planting your textbook on the face of a wooden desk - the sound reaching the rafters in the highest peak of the deserted classroom…
“A Guide To Advanced Transfiguration.” Mattheo read the title aloud with a tedious uninterested drawl. “Seems a bit presumptuous to shove this down my throat so early on. Shouldn't we be starting from the beginning?"
You ignored him promptly, using the silence to arrange your colour coordinated stationery on your desk beside Riddle's,
“I had no idea," You began, brushing off your blue lined robes and flattening the invisible creases on your skirt, "-That the person residing under my tutelage would be a first year."
Riddle stabbed the inside of his mouth with his tongue, while his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Your face remained passive as you continued, "You are a sixth year, correct?” You asked with a snide tilt of the head before planting yourself on the desk beside him.
“You are a big boy capable of understanding big boy books,” Unbeknownst to you, your words managed to stir something foreign within Mattheo but he conceals it with his usual veneer of arrogance as he swings his head lazily in your direction.
"May we begin?" You asked, with your back straightened - inches away from his hand now hanging on your chair.
"In a bit…" he says, "Just..." his voice trails off as his eyes scan over your visage, likely assessing it like an unseen tapestry. The truth is, Riddle did not know you prior to being forced under your tutelage. His droopy brown eyes appeared even more so as he broke the distance between you two and studied you closer. A tense silence grew pregnant in the ancient classroom, and your resolve was beginning to slip. Only one thought inflated a puddle of anxiety in your stomach:
Could this be your first kiss? Is this what first kisses looked like? Could this be your very first brush of intimacy overall?
Your brain failed to rationalise and compartmentalise his attraction, but your heart pushed your head closer.
"Call me a big boy again..." He had whispered… which evidently led you here.
Your lesson had ended with your hand covered in his release and a breathless smirk painted across his face. "This goes without saying," he breathed out with a satisfied smirk, "But tell anyone about this, and you're dead."
Ever since that day, your tutoring has been but a veneer of something much more sinister. When you were thrusted into the light of day, Mattheo overlooked you as did lots of his Slytherin friends. Besides the occasional threat and vague insult, you mean nothing to him.
When you two are alone, however, as you are right now, he would enchant you into servitude, lightly pushing your head down while he kissed you silly until your knees were planted on the hardwood floor.
Mattheo briefly opens his eyes to peer down at you. It is then when you notice the fresh bruise dotting the side of his face, and his pillowy lips split by a small incursion. He had very clearly gotten into another fight..
“Your mouth feels so fucking good when you're not using it to be a smart ass,” His words illicit a bubble of heat inside you.
Despite all this, you are clearly aware of the fact that you should not be enjoying this at all. Not one bit. For starters, you can feel the old wooden floors digging into the meat of your knees and the crisp winter chill is unkind to your scantily dressed state. Your shirt is unbuttoned because Mattheo was like a moth to a fucking flame when it came to your ample breasts and his hand is buried tightly in your kinky curls, forcing his cock even further down your throat. The very bones of Hogwarts seem to be in vehement protest of your blatant whorishness.
3 silver chains hang from his neck as he plants his other hand against the wall behind you, blocking your kneeling frame between both him and cold, hard stone. You crane your neck back, keeping a half lidded gaze on the jewelry that drives you feral with lust. You are content imagining that perhaps, when he is getting ready in the slytherin common rooms, he wears the silver for you. A fanciful thought but one that consistently has your intestines weaving themselves into knots.
That, paired with his striking, jet black blazer, which is discarded somewhere in the abandoned classroom, has you keening and fighting to take even more of him into your mouth. Perhaps you were peacocking a little - flatting your tongue so his cock slid seamlessly to the back of your throat while you fought to ignore the pain blossoming on your scalp. He had turned you from an inexperienced nun to something you're not quite ready to examine yet.
"You're finally putting this head of yours to good use…" Despite his feigned arrogance you're utterly delighted knowing that only you can bring Mattheo to such an utterly restless state. He does not really know what to do with himself.
Not when you took so much of him, so well.
You clench your toes.
Feeling himself get too close, Mattheo eases his cock fully out of your mouth, languidly stroking himself but still assuming a firm grip on your scalp. He is operating on that very specific plain of narcissism that was special to Mattheo. He is aware of your presence, physically, but his words are spoken into the open air, like you are an inanimate object. A glorified toy.
"Are all Ravenclaws as compliant as you are?”
You bring a crisp white sleeve up to your lips, wiping away the excess drool as you remain kneeled in front of him, knowing he has yet to finish.
"If you ever think of finding out," your voice is hoarse, "this will be the last time I offer you any free study sessions."
"Is money all you seek?" He attempts to feign composure, continuing to languidly stroke his cock. "How utterly greedy. I thought- fuck… - I thought you were far more philosophical than that"
You watch hungrily as Mattheo bites on his pillowy bottom lip. He is prolonging the release, taking his time as he usually did... "If you plan on edging yourself in my mouth instead of actually finishing the job, I do have other commitments to attend to-"
He ignores you... his brows furrowing and smoothening at odd intervals as he continues to touch himself while studying you.
"We may not be studying… but I still intend to pass Transfiguration, hope you're aware." He punctuates his sentence with an breathless laugh- it blossoms across his usually stoic visage, raising his buttercup cheekbones towards his smiling eyes.
As he talks, you examine his scars and feel the slow essence of admiration seep into the pit of your stomach. An arguably pathetic feat, given that your feelings will not ever be reciprocated.
Brewing inside you is the need to take care of him. You knew the rest of the student body viewed Mattheo as a glorified parasite. Something that is only capable of thinking within the capacity of its own means. Something that takes, and takes, and occasionally jokes around, and takes. But how could he know anything different? You suspected that his home life was built on the foundation of survival, on needing to be the loudest, and proudest, and worst of them all.
"What the fuck are you doing?" The sharpness of his words slice through your thoughts, bringing you back to yourself. Mattheo's gaze is placed firmly on something down below. Throughout his mindless tirade, your hand had taken to rubbing soft, comforting circles against the leg of his pants, quite literally on its own accord. Mattheo is bent over, head tilted as he watches you questioningly. Seconds stretch to a minute, and your stomach sinks as time passes.
Eventually, he dismisses you. He shakes his head. "Whatever," He says, tilting your head back and lining your mouth with the head of his cock once more. His visage darkens into a cruel sadistic grin. "Tell me you want me to come in your mouth."
Almost instinctively, you do as he orders and like clockwork, you swallow his cum, wondering if he knew how deeply and truly your words actually were. There was a moment, perhaps imagined, in which his fingers gripping your hair, melted to the side of your soft, supple cheek. It stays there for longer than necessary, leaving bits and pieces of your composure scattered in its wake.
Mattheo soon straightens his posture, stuffing his flaccid cock back into his pants before making himself as presentable to the student body as they know him to be (which admittedly is not a lot) And before he turns to walk away, he leaves you stranded on a glacier with his ice cold words cutting deep into your beating heart.
"Tell anyone about this-"
"And I'm dead," You interject, "I know."
And with that, you pull your ruffled collar over your lint-free school jersey and check your reflection to assess the damage Mattheo and his iron grip might have left. You needn't wait for an extension on the conversation because your job here was done, (pun so malevolently intended).
As far as Mattheo is concerned, you are an easy conduit to release his frustrations through because your unpopularity makes you so incredibly inconspicuous. You blend into any given crowd at any given moment, your name seldom reaching the heights of ridicule among his group because you are so unforgettable… There had been no reason to point out your flaws, not because you did not have any, but because you were simply invisible.
It is particularly strange to have any social interaction beyond the bounds of group projects and class discussions… so Harry Potter gifting you even a sliver of attention had been violently unorthodox. So unorthodox, in fact, you failed to look up from the weathered pages of your novel when his gentle voice wafted in your direction during a rare free period in Study of Ancient Runes. Your professor has been summoned quite promptly by the headmaster and has yet to return. The class has been in a state of havoc ever since.
"I don't know if you're aware of this but…" A deep shadow over the pages alerted you to his presence, "They both die at the end."
It was incredibly rare that Potter, who sat at the desk directly in front of you, ever felt the need to strike up conversation that was not purely academic. Gryffindors made use of Ravenclaws as often as Slytherins.
So naturally, you peer curiously up at him…
"Sorry?"
"Y-Your book. It's a muggle book, isn't it? I haven't seen anything with a cover like that around here. It's refreshing. Everything in the wizarding world is ancient and leatherbound." He mumbles as his index finger slides into the collar of his red quidditch jersey. He finds himself suddenly overcome by a wave of embarrassment even though there was nothing at all to be embarrassed about… he turns his chair slightly in your direction, his eyes darting to the door and the empty teacher's seat before meeting yours once more.
"'They Both Die At The End." He says, pointing towards the title.
"Oh…" You affirm, rocking your head back and forth, "You were making a joke?"
"No," Harry snickers before waving a large hand in dismissal, "Evidently, the only thing I 'made' was a complete and utter fool of myself."
You're not sure when it happens but you feel the lower half of your face melting into what you suspect is a smile. You can feel your shoulders relaxing and your novel lowering imperceptibly.
"Work on your delivery next time and maybe we'll be getting somewhere."
"Is that how it is!?" Harry asked, pleasantly surprised by your banter, "- I could've sworn I had a shred of dignity before the start of this conversation. Now I'm not quite sure where that went."
Mattheo's feet pass over the threshold as soon as the sound of your laughter rushes past him. It is almost charming in its familiarity but incredibly curious in its rarity. He can't recall ever seeing you with your head thrown back while the instinctive sound of amusement races through your throat. He does not know he's staring until Draco shoves past him, to get to their own seats in the front of the class.
His eyes remain on you as he makes his way to his desk, hoping, perhaps, that you would turn your head infinitesimally, in acknowledgment of his presence.
You do nothing of the sort, and it not only fills him with a weird sort of dissatisfaction but it bubbles into full blown vexation when he realises who is capturing your attention so viscerally.
Mattheo has never prided himself on his patience or tolerance.
Overthinking is something he consistently lives without.
Most of his actions were spurred from things he felt in the now, and he was really fucking uncomfortable with what was happening now.
His glances at the front of the class before finding you once more in the very back corner of the class. He notices that Harry is stationed in front of you but the seat beside you is completely deserted.
Did you not have friends?
And more importantly; how did he never notice until now?
What if…
Perhaps if he…
"You didn't let me know we were having a picnic," The sound of a chair scraping against the tiles had both you and Harry rallying into silence. Mattheo appears at your side, pushing the chair against yours so he, too, sits facing Potter - who suddenly appears incredibly uneasy. Gone is the comfortable atmosphere cooked by easy and amicable conversation. Mattheo injecting himself into your little bubble created a suddenly charged and suffocating atmosphere. You cannot keep your wide eyes off Mattheo as he lowers himself to his chair beside you with his legs spread as he slouches down, like he always does.
"Don't stop on my accord," He exclaims, completely oblivious to the fact that your professor might walk in at any minute. "What were we talking about?" Your heart wrestles in your chest as you see him turn to address you. His slouching puts him a level lower than you, but it does nothing to lessen his intimidation.
"Maybe I should ask, Potter?" Mattheo turns his attention to the front, "What were you lot talking about?" There is not a trace of friendliness present in Riddle's tone. In fact, it's the very opposite. Your nerves, swelling with anxiety, only escalate into full-on panic when you feel him place a large hand on your skirt under the table.
Harry's voice is low and his eyes are trained on the floor, "Books-"
"Books!" Mattheo cuts him off with sarcastic fervour, "How utterly fascinating!" The hyperbolic wonder in his tone is utterly rude and unbecoming, but you look down at your desk in blatant anger. Refusing to be a part of whatever this is.
"And tell me, Potter, how many books have you read so far?"
It is then that Riddle's once stationary hand begins the faintest trace of movement. He begins slow and tame, his callouses barely registering on the soft fabric until his fingers prod the lining of your skirt…
Your breath hitches in your throat.
Never had Mattheo ever displayed a desire to touch you. Not in the way he made you touch him. It was made explicitly clear that only he would benefit from your secret rendezvous' and so you were left to deal with your aching cunt alone, with the image of the face he made when he came, still burned into your mind. It had never been about you.
"A couple,'' says Harry, fighting to show this bully that he was unaffected by his intimidation. If only he knew that with every advance Mattheo's palm made, you were slipping farther and farther away.
"A couple books?" Asks Riddle for clarity. He remains lax and languid on the inside, but the nature of his wandering hand underneath the desk tells a new story.
He finally slips under your skirt.
His palm connects with the softness of your thighs and he seems utterly pleased by it. His hand is immediately restless to explore how far you would let him go. Which isn't very far.
Not at all.
If he thought he could suddenly touch you after myriad occasions of using you like a discarded toy… he had another thing coming.
The tips of Mattheo's fingers make gradually increasing strokes along your thigh until his fingers prod the stretch marks on your inner thigh. It is there when you stop him, clenching your legs together, blocking his hand from any further movement.
Mattheo's voice is strained as he says, "And you like reading, Potter?"
Sensing something brewing between the two of you - your withdrawn, hazy gaze, staring directly through the desk and Mattheo's overabundance in questions, has Harry reeling backwards.
"I asked you a question, Harry."
"I like reading."
"Good! That's really good!" Quite suddenly, Riddle tilts the ends of his half-moon nails into your thigh. His nails bite into your skin, forcing them to weaken and unclamp. Before you're even able to think, his palm is cupping your cunt through your panties- forcing an indecent yelp from your throat which you quickly (and very badly) disguise as a cough.
Mattheo is utterly pleased while he continues mindlessly stroking your cunt. Not for the purpose of any glorious stimulation. His hand is just there to show you (and perhaps maybe himself) that he has access to the most private part of you.
That thought alone has an unforeseen and sudden wave of lust coursing through his veins and surging straight to his hardened cock. He thinks of all the things he could have done to you but failed to do. He thinks about how, up until this point, he had ever been satisfied with using your mouth alone, not when he was denying himself the softness of your pussy all along.
He felt angry with himself, for being so fucking stupid, he is angry at Potter for seeing whatever it is he saw in you, way before he did and, possibly most harrowing of all is the fact that he is angry with you. And he can't help but be angry at you. How easily you whore yourself out to any and every man. If this thing with Potter had gone far enough, would you replace him? Had you even fucked Potter before?
You bite down on your lower lip as your head bows even further into your book. The words blend into one another, and all you can feel is a rise in temperature and Mattheo's suddenly restless fingers, pressing rudely against your clit - for the sole purpose of ripping an orgasm out of you right then and there, at the very back of an unsupervised classroom, with Harry Potter still very much a part of the conversation.
"You've got so many books to read in your lifetime," Says Mattheo. He sits up slowly, likely spurred on by the dampness seeping through your panties. "Don't cut your long life short by trying to entertain other people's girlfriends, yeah?" Gone are any traces of feigned friendliness. "Fucking Mudblood,"
Your skin feels like you are bathing in magma and you hope Potter could not see the slight tremor in your hand as you gripped the sides of your book with more force than necessary.
Mattheo's words… they have you shifting forward and widening your legs minutely. You crave for nothing more than to roll your hips in tandem with the circles he's pressing against your clit.
"Understood?"
Your orgasm is dangerously close, with the promise of sheer, disgusting shame and embarrassment if he continues. You feel Harry give you one final curious look, perhaps pleading for an interjection of denial at some point but you've taken to bouncing your knee under the table, hoping the vibrations might create enough friction to aid Mattheo's hands. He is keeping you trapped in a space of wanting. So much so, that this almost feels like a punishment.
Once Harry is turned back around and facing the front of the class, Mattheo lowers his lips to your ears. The damp smell of firewhiskey floods your nostril and you realise that he is completely drunk. In the second lesson of the day.
However, you're so completely stimulated, even the warmth of his breath as you fight the urge to hump into his hand like a lost little puppy until you make a mess all over his hand.
"You're such a fucking slut, you know that?" Your book drops to your desk - muffled by the sounds of the classroom cacophony. "You like being humiliated like this?" He asks, almost in complete awe. It takes everything in you not to moan outright.
"Fuck," You whisper to yourself, blinking your eyes shut, warding off the need but to no avail. His fingers are long and limber, and they have you nearly cumming right there, in front of your entire fucking class. Had it not been for your Professor's haphazard arrival into the class, and the swift removal of Mattheo's fingers from between your legs… you might truly have become the slut he labelled you as.
Instead of moving to his designated seat, Riddle raises his hand for the professor… the very same hand that has previously been in between your legs.
"Yes, Mr Riddle?" Asks the Professor, his voice as lacklustre as his appearance.
"May we be excused? We were excused by Professor Slughorn to assist him in-"
"Fine, fine," Says the professor with a wave of dismissal before turning his attention to the rest of the class. "The rest of you, open your textbooks to page 56."
Riddle's hand is clamped around your forearm, already leading you swiftly out the door in a long and wide stride. Had it been any other teacher at all, they might have recognized this for what it so clearly was.
"Here," you have barely made it fully into the boy's bathroom before Mattheo is stuffing his fingers down your throat, making you gag and yelp at the sudden intrusion. "Tell me how good you taste." He doesn't even bother to make sure you're truly left alone in the bathroom before pushing your front against the bathroom sink.
"Is that good?" His voice is as sweet as honey as he forces his fingers deeper down your throat, causing you to cough and gag around them.
Mattheo has half his sense to pull his wand from his back pocket, and without turning around, whispers "Colloportus," and the heavy doors snap shut.
You're supposed to be afraid because you've never seen him like this. Mattheo is always a ball of sarcastic energy between trysts, but it's usually an energy he can somewhat contain.
You don't know what to do with him, not when he's watching you choke on his fingers through the mirror, while his other hand fondles at your breasts and rips your bra down until your nipples are poking through your school shirt.
The figure in the mirror distorts as your eyes begin to water. Thick beads of tears grow pregnant at the ends of your eyes before rolling down the side of your face.
"My girl," Mattheo presses his face into your hair, breathing you in, pressing his body into your side. His hard cock in unmistakable through his school pants, "My messy little girl,"
You finally moan candidly while your fingers grip the countertops and your hips buck into nothingness. Your eyes plead with him in the mirror, hoping they relay how utterly useless with lust you have become. It would not take hard work to make you cum, you're sure one more flick against your material-clad nipples might send you over the edge.
"Fuck, why didn't I think of this sooner,"
This is all new, even for the two of you.
"Spread your legs." He commands, even though his feet are already kicking them apart.
"Come here," you break eye contact in the mirror to face the boy behind you. Mattheo removes his fingers sitting in your mouth, leaving a trail of sticky saliva in its wake before replacing it with a long and messy kiss- one that has his tongue forcing itself inside.
Mattheo weaponizes your distraction to reach around and slide your panties to the side with one hand while he rubs your soft nub with his other, spit-coated hand.
You break away from the kiss, neck craning back and mouth hanging open while your eyebrows dissolve into crescents. You cannot look away from him, as you hump his hand.
"You wanna cum?" You nod enthusiastically. "And what if I told you, you can't cum until I've fucked that little pussy of yours? Hm? What then?" His words have you mewling from the sheer pleasure they bring and your orgasm threatens to snap once more.
"Fuck," He hisses, feeling unable to remove his hand from your wet cunt but needing to, in order to undo his belt and pull his aching cock out. "Don't you dare fucking touch yourself," He says in a deadly quiet voice before bringing his hand up to your mouth. "Spit." You don't ever think of disobeying him, not when you're swimming so deeply in your subspace, not when he's the one to bring you here.
Mattheo collects every bit of saliva you offer him before coating his cock in the stuff.
Deciding not to waste anymore time, he does what his body is screaming for him to do: he bends you over the bathroom sink and pushes cock right through your slippery folds. It's tense and painful and your voice is hoarse from doing all that screaming but the sudden contact strokes a deeply sated part inside yourself. His curved and pretty cock rams your insides with reckless abandon, all while he delivers small slaps against your cheek. Riddle keeps a firm grip on your throat. His mouth is inches away from you while his hips rut into yours. His words are being delivered through clenched teeth.
"You think you're so fucking smart but you're just my little whore, arent you? A little whore thst fucks anything that gives her the slightest bit of attention?" It doesn't even register that Mattheo wrongfully suspects that there had been something between you and Harry but you keep your mouth shut. For all his indifference in the past, this is how you would make him pay.
"Oh~ fuck." His cock bruises your cervix, leaving him balls deep and feral inside you. "Fucking Potter?! You wanna give what's mine, to fucking Potter?!" His voice is utterly depraved and animalistic and it has your orgasm cresting.
He is panting, while he mumbles into your ear.
"What would Potter think? If he saw you like this? What would he think? Would he still want your slutty pussy knowing I've been inside it? Knowing that I've cum so deep inside you? Completely ruining you for anyone else, huh?"
"You…" The tears threaten to spill, "It's only ever been you, Mattheo -oh my god! I'm so fucking close!" You fight down tears as the lava begins to bubble at the pit of your stomach.
"S-Say it again. Tell me you want me!" He exclaims, "Tell me you fucking need me."
"Oh my God, Mattheo, I fucking need you." You push your hips back to meet his thrusts.
His voice wavers after your confession. His strokes became sloppy. His mind is flooded with the tightest of your cunt around his cock- how someone so smart could possibly ever say they need him. It has a flood of heat pooling at the base of his cock. "You're so fucking pretty… my pretty girl - my pretty whore," He nods to himself while his heavy cock finds purchase in a specific clump of sensitive tissue inside your cunt. It has you clamping your own mouth shut, your arms wavering while your back arches towards him, only allowing him better excess.
"I need you," You say once more, swallowing a ball of saliva as you nod towards him through the mirror, "I need you to cum inside me."
"Oh my fucking god," Mattheo's eyes soften in their desperstion, "M'gonna fucking breed pussy right here- fuck!" His grip on your throat grows tighter until you're wholeheartedly cut off from your air supply. You hump his cock until you feel it twitch inside you.
"Y-Youre making me cum, baby- fuck-" You feel his hot cum spurting inside your walls, triggering your own orgasm that has you gripping his cock like a vice.
"So… so pretty" His hips stutter against yours until you've completely drained him of his cum. A sharp tremor settles over your bones and you gasp in vague increments, waiting for the overwhelming state of euphoria to subside… but it never does.
The weight of what you had done comes crashing back down but you are unable to feel anything besides an immense wave of satisfaction at having your deepest need satiated.
"I think I nearly killed Potter today." His voice is a hoarse echo within the school bathrooms.
"There is no Harry Potter," You say, watching him through the mirror, "In my whole world, there is only ever you, Mattheo."
And a part of him believes you, but he refuses to affirm something as emotionally stifling as that. Instead, Mattheo's eyes flutter shut as his nose finds your hair once more. His cock is still buried inside you, and you hiss as he moves his hips slowly, almost insitinvely. He loves being so wholly enveloped by you. He loves feeling you everywhere.
© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost
#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo x y/n#mattheo x you#mattheo riddle x black!reader#hp fandom#hp fanfic#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter smut#harry potter x reader#harry potter x you#ravenclaw reader#x ravenclaw reader#mattheo riddle x ravenclaw!reader#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle imagine#harry potter fanfic#hp fanfcition#dead dove do not eat#dead dove fic
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Steve arriving at a hotel for a work conference for his dad’s company. He hates it there, he’s miserable, he’s constantly trying to figure out what he actually wants to do with his life.
It’s late when he gets there and the hotel is fully booked because of a concert happening.
He gets his key card after waiting for 30 minutes to check in.
He opens the hotel room door to find it is already occupied by a guy with a whole lot of tattoos all over his very naked and still dripping from a shower body.
Obviously he panics a bit and wonders how the hell this could’ve happened and Eddie panics a little because of safety (turns out he’s the singer of the band performing the following night!)
They try to call the front desk but the line is busy and Steve already dreads having to go back and wait in the line downstairs.
Eddie offers to let him just stay and they’ll fix it in the morning.
“Plenty of room in a king for both of us.”
Which may be true, but Steve is an octopus when he shares a bed and he knows he will end up in Eddie’s space. Should he warn him? Probably. Does he? Absolutely not.
Steve rushes through a shower and hops into bed, making small talk with Eddie about his life in a band, ignores questions about what he does as much as he can because he doesn’t feel like explaining he’s just a puppet for his dad’s never ending business career.
He falls asleep listening to Eddie’s soft, deep tone.
And of course when he wakes up, he’s got his legs and arms wrapped around Eddie anywhere he can reach. His drool is drying on Eddie’s chest and he’s coming to terms with the fact that his dick was definitely pressed against Eddie’s thigh.
Eddie’s kind enough not to say anything about it, just squeezes Steve’s arm and continues petting his hair.
It’s nice, too nice.
Steve has to get up. He’s got things to do today and if he’s late, his dad will hear about it and berate him for hours.
Shit, even if he’s on time he’ll probably find some other reason to berate him for hours.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked.
“Hm? Oh. Just don’t really wanna get up.”
“Then don’t. I don’t have anywhere to be until soundcheck after lunch.”
And now Steve has no choice but to explain his job and why he’s here, how his dad is relying on him to network and find potential mergers. How he hates putting on the Harrington face to please everyone.
It’s easy to admit it to Eddie, especially with Eddie’s arms wrapped around him, holding him like he could actually protect him from anything his father tries to say to hurt him.
“You don’t like your job.”
It’s not a question.
“Does anyone really like their job?”
“I do.”
“Well, you’re a rockstar. Of course you do. But I can’t be a rockstar.”
“Maybe not. But what is your rockstar?”
Steve had never been asked that, not even by guidance counselors in high school. They all knew he’d work for his father. He got a business degree for his father. He owned more suits than sweatpants for his father.
“I…don’t know.”
“Maybe you could try figuring it out.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“No, it’s not. But you could still try.”
So Steve sent a message to his dad’s partner, let him know he was fighting food poisoning from the in-flight meal and couldn’t make it to the conference today. He watched as Eddie threw on some clothes, mussed up his hair instead of brushed it, and quickly shoved his things into his bag.
“I should get out of your hair, try to get the room thing fixed.”
Eddie looked at him, looked at the alarm clock by the bed, down at Steve’s bag.
“How many days are you packed for?”
“Uh, four, technically. Trip was supposed to be three, but I always have an extra in case there’s flight delays or-“
“Come with me.”
“To…soundcheck?”
“On tour.”
Steve was an idiot, his father made sure he knew it as often as possible. But he couldn’t just go on tour with a stranger.
Could he?
What was he really doing here?
He hated his job, hated his dad, hated not having a clear path in front of him.
And this certainly wasn’t a clear path; He barely knew this guy, and hadn’t even heard his band. But it was a trail, the start of a path that could lead him somewhere he’d actually like to be.
Maybe he could take this chance.
Robin would tell him to do it, if she weren’t in Antarctica studying penguins for three months, only able to call once a week to check in.
What would she say if she called him and he was backstage at a heavy metal concert?
She’d probably say he’s lost his damn mind, but she’d be glad he did.
“Well, I am a rockstar. I could afford to have you around.”
“I’m not sure I could really afford to when my dad fires me,” Steve sighed, reality hitting him a little too quickly.
“I’m not really willing to be, like, your kept boy or anything,” Steve felt himself flush.
“I’m not really willing to have a kept boy,” Eddie smirked, joining him on the bed again, legs crossed in front of him. “But I’d definitely be happy to have someone who can help our tour manager out. You’d be working, though the jobs kind of boring.”
“More boring than sitting in an office five days a week and meeting with old white dudes who haven’t done anything but work their lives away for 40+ years?”
“Nah, way better than that. Sometimes you’ll have to deal with Gareth’s moods, but I promise to make it worth your while.”
“How’s that?”
“I’ll leave that up to you,” Eddie very obviously checked him, eyes trailing over Steve’s bare chest. “I’m open to negotiating.”
“And if I want a kiss?”
“Then a kiss you’ll have.”
“And if I want you to fuck me?”
“Then you’ll have to sign some paperwork,” Eddie laughed. “But that can be arranged too.”
So Steve left with Eddie, four days of clothes in his bag, no idea what he’d even tell his dad or anyone else, and no clue exactly what his new job would entail.
All he knew was Eddie seemed to be made just for him, chaos and hyperactivity included, and Steve wasn’t gonna give that up now. Even if it made no sense, even if it was ridiculous to gain a new job and new rockstar boyfriend in less than 24 hours, even if his next call with Robin was a combination of her yelling about his impulsive behaviors and congratulations for finally doing something for him.
Even if he was more of a VIP groupie for the band than an employee of the tour manager.
Steve finally found something he wanted.
If he sent his dad’s calls to voicemail, that was because he was too busy walking his new path.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#headcanon#drabble#modern au#rockstar eddie munson#meet cute#unrealistic timeline of falling in love#and I’m not sorry for it
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Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)
Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!
thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k
"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately.
"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."
You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat.
It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears.
Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet.
"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct.
"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?"
"Do you have any water?"
He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"
"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful."
"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil.
You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants.
Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck.
Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head.
"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands."
"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking.
"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat."
"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing."
"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face.
You try to greet them and end up hanging your head.
"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.
You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh.
You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care.
"She's coming around," Hotch says.
Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still.
"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out."
You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me."
"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word.
"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective."
"No, you sound funny."
"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained.
"She's okay," Hotch says.
You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous.
"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says.
"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later."
You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh."
"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head."
"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.
"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."
"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks.
"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room."
"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly.
"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either."
"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused.
"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs."
Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs."
You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.
"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want."
"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No."
Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go."
"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says.
"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"
"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted.
"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse."
Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious.
Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing.
"You'd share germs with me?" you ask.
Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…"
You breathe out slowly. "When you what?"
"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all."
If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with.
You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently.
He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily."
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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↳ just wanna see my baby right outside my door!
you think you’d be alone this christmas but your girlfriend surprises you.
↳ featuring—arlecchino, kafka, shenhe, jingliu
cw: thigh riding, vaginal penetration, teasing, pet names, degradation (slut is used on kafka’s part, soft alre ( mentions of smut towards the end), strap use, kitchen sex, brat taming, i was afraid of making the fic too long so i stupidly rushed it towards the end, sorry, ( ill fix things up later.)
arlecchino was a very busy woman—which you knew from the very beginning of course. after all, she was a fatui habringer, owns an orphanage, and the list goes on. when arlecchino informed you about the plans and meetings she had during christmas eve and christmas day a few days prior, a bitter taste sits on your tongue. nevertheless, you mustered up a tight–lipped smile which your lover did not ignore and provided you words of sweet comfort and kisses.
fast forward to christmas day, you’re sitting alone in your living room, sipping on lukewarm chocolate cocoa that you didn’t really have any interest drinking. there was a bunch of presents stacked under the tree and it was mostly for her and the kids. you sighed dejectedly, placing the mug down with a frown on your face. stomach churning, tears prick your eyes, and you were quick to rub them away with your palm. perhaps you should sleep early to get rid of this awful feeling of loneliness.
a few soft, yet firm knocks at the door breaks the depressing silence. puzzled, you stand up from the couch and walked over towards the door. upon opening it, your eyes widen to see your lover standing patiently in front of you along with two fatui soldiers behind her carrying armfuls of presents. ignoring the shocked expression on your face, she gives you a gentle smile and delicately takes your hand in hers before bringing it up to her lips. “ good evening and merry christmas, my love. i apologize for not informing you about the chances of my early arrival but i wanted it to be a surprise. may we come in? “ arlecchino asks, kissing your knuckles.
you meekly nod, pulling away to step aside from the door for arlecchino and the two men to come in. “ you two, please set the presents by the christmas tree, i would greatly appreciate it. “ she requests, pointing over to the corner where the christmas tree sits; they complied with silent nods. sharp onyx eyes peers over at the boxes of gifts under the tree. she then turns over to you, her gaze softening. “ dear, are those gifts prepared for me? “
“ yes, and for the kids. “ you answered quietly. arlecchino scans your face for a short moment, noticing the redness around the corner of your eyes and the wrinkles between your brows.
“ men. “
“ yes, my lady? “ the two soldiers answered in sync.
“ take all of the gifts from under the tree and bring them to the hearth, you mustn’t drop them or damage them, do you understand? “ the sudden sternness in her voice made them flinch.
“ o-of couse, my lady! “
they quickly gathered all of the presents from under the tree. despite there being loads of them, they were able to fit all of the gifts in their arms and scramble out the door. alrechinno sighs, closing the door behind the two men and locked it. “ um, will they manage? although the trip isn’t that long, there are quite a lot of presents to carry. “
“ they better manage. that is their punishment for their incompetence. those two fools caused me a few unwanted inconveniences recently. “ she almost growled. arlecchino deeply sighs to recompose herself and gingerly lures you in by the forearm, bringing you into her arms. “ but i digress,“ she lifts her palm to your cheek and caressed the redden skin under your eye with her thumb. “ i made you cry, didn’t i, dove? “ you could hear the clear disappointment in her voice.
“ no alre, it was just. .i didn’t think you’d come, that’s all. . “ you trailed off, averting your gaze away from arlecchino’s. she lifts your chin up with a finger to guide your eyes back to hers. she leans in to kiss your cheekbone. “ i understand. i deeply apologize for making you wait and think such a thing. i promise that next year will be different. “ she whispered, brushing her lips against yours. a sense of warmth washes over you, getting rid of the bitter feeling of loneliness you previously had.
“ now that i’m here, allow me to make it up to you, dove. “ arlecchino locks her soft lips with yours in a slow, sensual kiss. you kissed back, wrapping your arms around her neck, threading your fingers in her silk snow hair. she holds you closer, running a delicate hand down your back. after a few moments, arlechinno breaks the kiss. “ dear, do you want to open your presents now? “ she asks warmly, looking down at you; red x—shaped pupils brimming with nothing but unadulterated infatuation and loyalty. the other fatui habringers say arlecchino is a wolf in sheep’s clothing—that her calm and stoic personality is nothing but a facade, and everything she does is calculated. perhaps that maybe true, but after witnessing this, you truly believe that even she is capable of love.
you held her tighter and kissed the corner of her mouth. “ no, not now. i just want you. “ arlecchino chuckled huskily, turning her head a bit to peck your lips. “ as you wish, dove. let’s transition to the couch, shall we? “ she releases you from her hold and ushers you over to the couch. she sits down, pulls you down onto her lap, and settles her inky hands on your waist. you wasted no time to press your lips against hers. she hums into the kiss, tilting her head to slot her lips between yours. your hands tugged the coat from her shoulders, causing it to pool at her arms.
“ you’re quite impatient. “ arlecchino husks as your hands skins down her bare arms, pushing the jacket further down until it’s hitting her elbows. you dragged your parted lips down her chin and neck, leaving behind open mouth kisses. her breath hitches, desire sparks within her. “ could you blame me, arle? “ you muttered against her pale skin.
suddenly, arlecchino positions her thigh against your clothed heat, causing you to gasp. “ that’s fine. if you’re going to be impatient, so will i. “ she adjusts her hands on your hips and rocked them back and forth. you moaned as your clit roughly drags against the cotton fabric of your panties and her pants. her narrowed eyes looks you up and down, itching to see the bare skin under your nightwear. “ hm, although, getting off from my thigh will do for now. i maybe impatient, but i’m not that much in a hurry to reduce you into a crying mess.”
“ merry christmas, darling~ “ kafka purrs in your ear, sliding the fat, plastic cockhead into your weeping pussy, stretching out your tight walls. her hands gripped your hips as she pushes her cock deeper into your hole. “ i-it’s soo big. “ you cried out, holding onto her back for dear life. she chuckles, dipping down to kiss away the fat tears rolling down your cheeks. kafka made you wait all christmas night, just to show up at your door with several expensive presents, which also included a custom-made strap that matched the color and design of her gloves. the fact that it was almost three inches bigger than the regular sizes she keeps, has you writhing in pleasure.
“ mhm, i know. i knew one of my special little christmas presents would make you cry tears of joy.” she grins roguishly, amethyst eyes twinkling with amusement. you hissed at her, wanting to smack, better yet, fuck that grin off that pretty face of hers. “ you’re such a little shit, kaf—ka! “ you yelped as she slides her length out of your pussy only to slam it right back in. “ not nice, you naughty girl. “ kafka playfully croons, prodding her fingers in between your bruised lips to stop your potty mouth.
“ maybe i should of stuffed your mouth with my cock first, huh? “ she muses, pounding into your pussy with sharp thrusts. you let out a muffled, broken moan as her tip grazes your cervix. your mind becomes forcefully deprived of rational thoughts as she fucks away your sanity. nothing but strangled moans and groans left your lips which were music to the stellaron hunter’s ears.
she whistles, “ atta girl. now those are the sounds that i wanna hear. “
you weakly glared up at her, digging your nails into her skin as a poor attempt to make her flinch. she shown no reaction, instead, she laughs and lifts one of your legs up, propping it over her shoulder. “ still such a feisty little thing, aren’t you? don’t worry, i’m going to fuck you until i turn you into my obedient slut. “ her cock reenters your seeping cunt in a different angle that made your toes curl and eyes roll to the back of your head.
kafka rolls her hips, pushing her cock up against a sweet spot, causing you to nearly scream in pleasure. “ mmh, that was a good one baby doll. “ she litters your face with kisses, messily smearing your skin with her lipstick. she quickens her pace, rutting you into the mattress. the delicious noise of your slick covered walls swallowing kafka’s cock with every thrust made her own pussy flutter over nothing.
by now, you’re babbling and drooling with kafka’s digits still stuffed in your mouth; sweaty face covered in lipstick. she licks her lips at the messy yet beautiful sight below her.
“ absolutely wonderful, darling. this the best present i could ever have. “
you could never be mad at shenhe for showing up at your home near the end of christmas day with just one small gift in her hand. she’s ignorant to many mortal holidays and traditions so you’re very patient with her. she handed you the little box with a shy smile on her face and explained to you that inside is a charm for fending off evil spirits and bad luck. shenhe had a little trouble with finding a gift for you which is why she was pretty late. thanks to cloud retainer and ganyu, she was able to get you the charm and bless it.
of course you also had some gifts made for shenhe, but it wouldn’t hurt to show her your appreciation first.
“ so pretty. “ you cooed, pushing back the sliver white fringes from her beautiful eyes. your hand snakes under the opening of her hip window, rubbing the toned skin underneath. her stomach flexes as your warm hand travels down and palms her heat. she sharply sucks air between her teeth, looking over at you with hazy needy eyes. “ you don’t have to worry about a thing, sweetheart. “ you mumbled, delving down to kiss her apple cheeks, “ let me take care of you—relax. “
you played with her clit, rubbing and grinding against the small bundle of nerves with your palm in a slow, circular motion. shenhe groans, weakly grabbing your wrist but made no attempt to stop you. you shift down towards her chest area and lifted the flap piece up, revealing her hardened nipples poking out from the black, stretchy fabric. you wrapped your warm mouth around one of the perky buds through the cloth and swirled your tongue. “ feels. .good. “ she breathed, closing her eyes as she focuses on your fingers stroking her puffy folds and your tongue teasing her nipple.
her back arches as the tip of your ring and index finger teases her entrance. “ i know a strong girl like yourself can take two at a time without prep. “ you chuckled, slowly easing your fingers inside her pussy. a throaty moan leaves her lips. she can feel your nails drag against her walls, stretching her out. “ do you want me to let you adjust or start moving? i’m fine with whatever, sweets. “
“ m-move. “ she answers without a second thought.
you slide further inside until you were knuckles deep. she lets out a soft moan as you slowly thrust your fingers into her cunt while nibbling and tugging at her other sensitive bud. your drool leaves a growing dark patch on the fabric. desperation washes over shenhe like a wave as you continued to finger her and focus your attention on her clothed breasts. “ m-more. .” she groans, looking down at you with half–lidded eyes.
“ anything for you, sweetheart. “ you moved back up to her level and sealed your lips with hers. when you curl your fingers into a spongy patch, shenhe’s self control slips.
“ surprise, surprise~ “
a familiar, soft voice whispers in your ear as a silk blindfold covers your eyes. a pair of hands ghosts over your sides and cool breath fans against the back of your neck. a chill runs down your spine. “ jingliu?” you called out, slightly nervous. you didn’t feel her presence in the kitchen or even hear her enter your home. though, you didn’t want to question it too much since she’s a master swordsman who’s always light on her feet. but you can’t lie and say she doesn’t scare you sometimes with her quiet footsteps.
“ mhm. “ jingliu hums, resting her chin on your shoulder. “ i didn’t expect you to come home so late but merry christmas. can i ask why you’ve blindfolded me? “ her hands settles at your hips, cool lips grazes your ear.
“ merely for my enjoyment, dar–ling~ i’m here to claim my present. “ she nibbles and lightly tugs on your earlobe. you swallowed thickly, holding back a soft moan as she grinds her hips into your ass, sandwiching you between her and the kitchen counter. “ aeons, i can’t even make hot cocoa without you randomly pouncing on me. “ you murmured. but, you’re still quite happy to see her since she has the tendency to wander about for days at a time.
her hand slips under the waistband of your pajamas and panties. deft, slender fingers rub your folds, causing you to squirm. “ i’m going to take you right here. ” jingliu promises, you could hear the mischievous smile in her voice. unable to see because of the blindfold, you desperately grasp for the edge of the counter as she mercilessly plays with your clit and leaves cool kisses along your shoulder blade.
you gasped as her finger circled your entrance and enters inside. “ ah—jingliuu. .” you whined, hunching over the counter as she ruthlessly fingers your pussy without any time for you to adjust. “ i haven’t even added in two fingers yet—take it. “ jingliu growls. you could feel her finger stretch you apart, nails barely scratching the sweet spot you’re utterly weak to. “ n-not so fast! “ you hissed, knees growing weak from her pace.
jingliu ignores your plea and instead, adds another finger, erupting a loud moan from your throat. she sucks the skin on the side of your neck, leaving behind a red blotch. your walls clamps around her fingers, jingliu nearly moans at the feeling. “ you’re squeezing my fingers so tight, i cannot wait to feel you do the same to my tongue. “
jingliu finally adds in the third finger, stretching your hole even further. you swear you could see stars popping into your teary vision.
#trendy#arlecchino x reader#kafka x reader#shenhe x reader#jingliu x reader#genshin women x reader#honkai star rail women x reader#hsr smut#genshin impact smut
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Thinking about playfighting with Rafayel
+ brief sexual content, play fighting, subby rafayel
Your sweet, dramatic friend of a man. Your fights with him normally stay in the verbal arena, where he excels at throwing playful jabs, sassy remarks, the quick teasing nickname, and occasional cocky comment. When he’s smart-mouthed one too many times, oh, that’s when you have to drag him into your arena. It never hurts to teach your Lemurian charge who’s the real boss from time to time.
It never goes far; you think he might be a little too delicate for your full strength. So, you stick to a quick tackle, some torturous tickles, and silly pokes, all in attempts to make his face go a lovely shade of red and hear him beg for mercy. You love when he’d whine your name and plead for forgiveness while the angry pout and glare after would always be the icing on a very much deserved cake.
Sometimes, when he’s in a cheerful mood, he fights back, determined to give you a taste of your own medicine.
It always ends up with you two on the ground in front of his couch. You pin him on his stomach to punish him for defying you, and he tries his best to regain dominance. Even with all his squiggling and wiggling like an octopus out of water, he won’t be able to get you off.
Forcing yourself to lie on top of him and pressing your chest into his back, you ignore his demands for you to let him up, not until he apologizes. Ah, but he never wants to give in right away, and you up your force a little as he tries to flip you over.
Then, there’s a tug.
It’s an accident.
You weren’t entirely paying attention to where your hand was until there’s already wavy purple strands tangled around your fingers and the loud moan that filled the room was already beginning to fade away. It leaves you frozen with Rafayel whose hair is clutched in your hands and whose ears and face are very, very deep red.
This is certainly a first.
“Did you just—” you ask.
“No,” he groans out, but his denial is short lived because you just can’t resist teasing him and seeing that blushing face of his, so obviously, you have to experiment by giving another light tug. It yields the same result: a whine held deep in his throat and the tensing of his legs under you.
“Stop,” he says. “You’re gonna—”
You cut him off with a grunt, already knowing where he was going.
“Turn you on?” You finish for him. “Don't tell me you have a hard on.”
The pout he gives is adorable, his face brightly decorated like a bucket of vermillion paint was dumped on him. He lifts his arm to his face, trying to hide the blush behind his hand, which you take that to mean as a ‘yes’.
“What else do you expect to happen when you do that?” he comments between heavy breathes, and the absolute embarrassment laced in his voice makes a tingle go down your spine as he sputters out lame excuse after excuse – it was reflex, random timing, the rubbing, to try not to get too full of yourself—like he was an inexperienced young man dealing with his first rush of hormones.
All you could hear was your own thoughts whirling faster and faster and the adorably flustered sounds of his voice straining as you repositioned on top of him.
“Round 2,” you whisper then blow against the back of his heated neck, causing him to shudder.
A lightly grumbled “shameless as always,” puffs from behind his trembling hand. But when have you ever led him to believe that you weren’t especially in situations like these?
You squeeze your hand between his stomach and the floor, slowly drawing it down and stopping at his belt. He doesn't fight it, doesn't move even, maybe is silently anticipating this even more than you. Still, you’re not “shameless” enough to not give him a choice in the matter.
“Last chance to tap out, fishie. Apologize,” you warn.
It takes him time to respond, but when he does you can’t resist smirking. He finally asks, “Do you really think I’d give in so easily? Do your worst.”
You nearly laugh. That’s what you thought.
#rafayel x reader#love and deepspace x reader#rafayel smut#lads x reader#lnd x reader#love and deepspace#lds x reader#notsfw#adelssmut#gender neutral reader
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The incessant ringing of loneliness (or three weeks part two).
Pairing: Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader
Summary: Luke is back, officially. But you can’t find it in yourself to be happy about it.
Content: angst, loser!luke makes an appearance, a lil fluff, this one is probably happier than part one
Word Count: 4k
Notes: i can’t thank you guys enough for the love on three weeks :( it really means the world, and i hope you enjoy this one too! i don’t think there’s gonna be a part 3 just because i want the rest of luke and r’s story to be up to your own interpretation - especially since his path to healing is such an important factor and it could go in any way. hope that’s ok with you guys :)
꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷
You weren’t very popular at camp.
Despite the fact that you’d been there for longer than most of its occupants, and that you’d bandaged up some of their gnarlier injuries, you just didn’t have what it took to have people know your name upon first glance.
Clarisse had her unbridled aggression — she scared people into knowing who she was. Charles Beckendorf was the guy you went to when you broke a sword and didn’t want Chiron finding out about it, plus he was six foot six and kinda hard to miss. The Stoll Twins were behind pretty much every crazy scheme that ended up in Hermes losing desert privileges. Luke was…well, he was Luke. Need I say more?
Point is, while everyone knew everyone, not everyone really knew you. They knew your face, your parentage, and your overall skill set. But they didn’t know your name, or what made you tick.
Which was fine, really. You liked the alone time you got in the infirmary when your sister would run out to gossip with her friends in Aphrodite whenever she saw them walk by. You didn’t mind that, when your cabin got their hour of free time each day, your siblings would rush off to their friends and you would simply settle down with a good book.
It’s not as if you were entirely lonely — you had your fellow Apollo kids. You, Alina and Lee bonded especially, being the older kids of the group. So you had them — the only difference was that they had other people, too.
Which, again, was fine.
Except when you started to take care of Luke, you finally felt like you had a person. You looked forward to seeing him after meals each day, and you found excuses to linger in his room whenever possible. Call it odd, but you grew to enjoy the fact that nobody else knew he was back. Because that way, you had him, he had you, and that was that.
But then Luke got better.
You didn’t even have time to worry about it — one minute you were scarfing down your breakfast, eager to bring that second plate up to the Big House, and ignoring the strange looks your siblings sent you. Then in a split moment, everyone was cheering, people were standing and suddenly you didn’t feel so crowded anymore.
You heard murmurs of excitement, but people were practically standing on the table around you — unhygienic, much? People are eating here — and you couldn’t see what they were looking at. You tugged on your brother’s leg and he glanced down at your raised brow, then he said, “Luke’s back!”
It was like you were sucked back in time. No — it was like you were sitting in a waiting room, shivering from the cold breeze that whisked in through the automatic doors. And then the doors closed, and you could release the tension in your body because the warmth was already reaching your fingers — only for someone to walk past and make the doors open again, sending the sharp sting of the cold right back to where it was before.
Yes. That’s what it was — the warmth Luke’s eyes on you had provided was suddenly ripped completely from you the second your brother's words reached your ears. Replaced with the blistering cold of nobody ever knowing your name.
So it was back to normal for you. The normal you had grown accustomed to — the normal you liked. The normal you thought you liked, anyway.
You didn’t even catch a glimpse of Luke’s face as you stood and left the Pavilion, focusing on the floor beneath your feet rather than the crowd forming around him. Oh, but you couldn’t forget that he was back, it was all anybody could talk about. Once they’d done the math and realised he was the patient you’d been taking care of for three weeks, you locked yourself in your cabin to avoid all the questions, and didn’t see him until the very next day.
The chatter of Luke’s return had died down when you woke up the next morning — a little later than you usually did, Lee having to shake you so you wouldn’t miss breakfast. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and pulled a clean camp shirt over your head, stumbling a little due to the fact that you hadn’t fully woken up yet.
When you were ready, Lee was waiting by the door. A few of your siblings were still getting themselves into a line after his loud Fall in! had woken them up, so you had time to stretch your arms and let out a sigh once you had taken your place beside him. You and Alina always walked with him to mealtimes, even though neither of you were counsellors, and you greeted her with a smile.
The air was stuffy again — so much so that even Lee let out a wince when the shining glow of the front door hit his eyes. Then he stepped out of the cabin — his usual routine of checking the garden and cabin for pranks before letting them out coming into play. But he stopped.
“What?”
He swung his head back at you, brows raised and smile growing, “Luke’s back.”
Out of instinct, you rolled your eyes, “Pretty sure we all know that, already.”
“Yeah, but —“ He turned fully then, hands on the doorframe and grin shining, “He’s back, which means the Hermes kids are finally under control again, which means we don’t have to worry about being pranked first thing in the morning!”
“Holy crap.” Alina was grinning now, both of your siblings looking at you and each-other with this excited expression that made you sort of angry – why are they perceiving Luke? They’re not allowed.
You huffed a sigh as Lee started to lead the line outside, “He got back yesterday, there’s no way he’s already –”
But he was. As you stepped into the sun, the skin on your thighs already forming an uncomfortable layer of sweat, you looked to where the Hermes cabin was filing out of their door, led by the one and only Luke Castellan. You paused.
He’d been back a day. Sure, his scar had healed nicely, but it was only three days ago that he was struggling to hold his own in a sword fight – if he was back to his counsellor duties, was he going back to teaching sword fighting? You were unsure he should even be in charge of all those Hermes and unclaimed kids so soon, but going back to teaching only days after coming back to camp? There was no way he was ready for that.
Should you say something? Or would he dismiss you, now that he was done with you?
You watched as he walked with Chris, chatting idly as if nothing was wrong. But you saw Chris glance occasionally at the jagged line through his brother’s eye, and you saw Luke attempt to ignore it.
Should you say something?
You tripped. You were so busy staring creepily at Luke that you tripped over your own feet and tumbled into Lee’s back. He stumbled slightly but righted himself with a huff and a chuckle, turning and asking if you were alright.
But you had looked straight back in Luke’s direction – he was still talking to Chris. He wasn’t looking at you.
He wasn’t your person anymore.
Luke was unsure.
Which didn’t happen often — as one of the oldest campers, and the one everyone else looked to in times of peril, it was sort of essential for him to be sure. He needed to know what to do, to have a solution for every situation, and to be completely calm about it. Otherwise, camp would go to shit.
That much was obvious — he didn’t know why you hadn’t told him this in the three weeks you spent together, but camp had turned itself upside down in his absence. Apparently nobody was prepared for him to be gone for so long, and they kind of all lost their shit.
He was happy to be back, don’t get him wrong. He lit up when he saw his brother’s faces again, when he felt their arms wrap around him. He laughed when Travis joked about thinking he was dead, and when Connor quipped that the camp was seconds away from starting a revolution. He nodded at Chiron, smiled amusedly when Mr D rolled his eyes, he scooped Annabeth into his arms, whispered to her that yes, he was alive, and he let himself be whisked to his table, the crowd following like moths to a flame.
It was slightly overwhelming, but he was well-equipped to deal with it. He liked the feeling — if he ignored the throbbing on the side of his face, it could be like he’d never even left. The quest never happened, the dragon never happened, and people are just happy to see him because he’s their counsellor. Of course they would be. Everything was fine.
Everything was fine — so he ignored the urge to scan his eyes across the crowd in search of a familiar head of hair. He stopped himself from glancing at the Apollo table, from looking in Lee’s direction, just in case he wasn’t standing alone.
Because he didn’t need you anymore. Not that he didn’t appreciate all you did for him, but the healing was done. He was better, he was back at camp — he was Luke Castellan again. If he looked for you, if he met those eyes and returned that smile, it would be admitting defeat. Admitting that he wasn’t better, that he still needed his doctor.
But he didn’t. Because he was back, baby! And he didn’t need to think about that stupid quest, his stupid dad, or his stupid scar ever again.
He had a short chat with Chiron, who looked a little uneasy when he expressed his readiness to get back to camp duties. He told him that it was fine if he needed time to settle in, but Luke was firm. He didn’t need to settle, he didn’t need to wait. So Chiron sighed, and told him to escort his cabin to the climbing walls for their morning session.
And that’s how the rest of the day went — climbing wall, arts and crafts cabin, strawberry fields, archery practice. Luke did it all, just like he used to before he left. If people would just stop looking at his damn scar, maybe he could pretend he never left at all. If they stopped murmuring about him being the secret camper, hidden from them this whole time, he could avoid thinking about you and the sweet touch of your fingers on his face.
The fact that he hadn’t seen you at all since his return helped him on that front — you weren’t around at breakfast, lunch or dinner. You weren’t in the infirmary whenever he peeked through the windows. You weren’t with the rest of your cabin when they were paired with Hermes for hand-to-hand defence practice.
Not that he was looking for you, or anything.
“Hey, man.” Chris clapped him on the shoulder as they walked up to breakfast. It had officially been twenty-four hours since Luke’s return, and the chatter had died down significantly. That was good for him, helped him ignore the fact that he was ever not there.
All he had to do was keep his eyes off you — who had magically reappeared in camp — as you also walked up to breakfast, the Apollo kids trailing behind you, Lee and Alina.
“Listen, you did great yesterday.” His brother was saying, and he zoned in on it. “It was like you never left.”
Cool, that was the plan.
“But it’s sword fighting today.”
Luke raised a brow, “So?”
“So…” Chris sang, awkwardly waving a hand, “You don’t have to jump right back into training us, is what I’m saying.”
He scoffed, running a hand through us curls, “Nah, bro, I’m good.”
“Are you sure? Because —“
“Y’know, Chris,” Luke sent his brother a cheeky look as they took their seats around the Hermes table, “if you’re scared to get back to my gruelling training sessions, just say that.”
Chris’ face fell, appalled, and he put a hand on his chest, “Scared? Dude, you’re the one who should be scared. I’ve gotten good since you’ve been gone.”
And there it was — a reminder that it wasn’t the same. That he couldn’t pretend he had never left, because nobody else was. Whatever, it’d be fine. A couple of weeks and this would all blow over and he would never have to think about it again.
The Amphitheatre, unlike the rest of the camp amenities, was familiar to him. He didn’t need to stand and take it all in like he did with everywhere else, because he’d been here not even a week ago with —
No. Stop. You aren’t in his life anymore. He never went on his quest. Everything is how it should be.
The kids gathered around him were letting off a range of emotions as Luke stood before them, sword in hand. The younger ones were giddy, eager to get back to training with their favourite teacher. Some of the older ones, however, were only slightly confused that he’d bounced back so quickly. If he had to spend three weeks in the Big House before even going outside, was he ready to jump right back into sword training? Maybe he’d go easier on them today, take it slow.
“Alright — if there’s anything I've learnt over the years, it’s that sword fighting is all about reflexes. So, today, we will be working on y’all’s dodging skills. Oliver, get up here!”
Luke was back on Mount Tamalpais. The fiery breath Ladon was shooting at him seared his skin and burnt holes into his shirt. He was ducking out of the way, but there was no room to breathe when another one of his hundred heads came at him with a fierce snarl. His sword felt useless in his hands, every swing being deflected and every jab proving useless compared to the dragon's swift movements.
He blinked, and he was back at camp. Sparring with an unclaimed kid who’s name was lost on him. Sweat dripped down his brows but he wiped it away with shaky fingers. He gave an off-handed comment on the kids form before calling a water break.
“Yo— woah, man!”
Chris looked wide-eyed at Luke. He had tapped him gently on the shoulder and he had responded with an aggressive swing towards him. He stepped out of the arc just in time, but Luke still dropped the sword like it had burnt him. He stepped back, hands shaking, and stared at the ground.
It was odd — being at Archery in the mornings. You’d spent three weeks skipping the hour in favour of taking food to Luke and ensuring his dressings were changed. Which for most cabins, was what? Three classes a week?
Not for the Apollo kids — who have always and will always have their first hour spent on the Archery fields. Mainly because it’s when the sun is rising, shining on them in the early mornings and giving them their power to hit the bullseye. You included, even if healing was more your purview.
So you’d missed probably around twenty classes, give or take a few. Your form was, well, subpar at best. Lee had to spend the entire hour making sure you didn’t accidentally hit one of your siblings — and that was after he had to re-teach you the basics.
You probably would’ve been better had you not been so distracted — your mind whirring with thoughts of Luke. You wished your brain would just leave it alone, but apparently you weren’t done mulling over the situation. You wanted to slap yourself across the face and say hey, idiot. The three weeks is up, he’s healed. It’s over. But your siblings would probably look at you weird, so you decided against it.
Instead, you threw yourself into your duties. Archery was a bump in the road, but now you were smooth sailing. You didn’t focus on anything else but what you had to do that day — not taking a moment to breathe because if you did that, you’d start thinking about Castellan again. You didn’t want that, you really didn’t want that.
It was going really well, too. But then Chiron just had to interrupt your canoeing session, asking you to clear out any medical supplies you left over in the spare room of the Big House since nobody was staying there anymore.
Oh, great. You were thinking about him again.
And then all the thoughts you’d been suppressing since ten in the morning were overflowing your head, and you thought you might have had to ask Mr D if you were going mad because when you cracked open the door and peeked your head in, Luke was sitting on the edge of the bed like usual and you had to blink to make the hallucination go away.
Except it didn’t go away. Instead it looked at you and smiled, “Hi.”
Your lips parted, and you stepped in. Your eyebrows curved in on themselves, “Uh, hey. What are you…”
You were still about seventy percent sure that he wasn’t real, but nobody was there to listen to you talk to air, so you replied anyway. Luke clicked his tongue, let out a chuckle, then sighed, “I don’t think I can do it.”
Okay, fifty percent sure.
“Do what?”
“Go back out there.” He gestured a hand to the window that pointed outside, although it was still covered with the curtain. “I thought…I dunno, I guess I got too excited yesterday. Thought I was ready to jump back into it.”
You stepped fully through the threshold, and he followed you with his eyes as you walked over to the desk. Nothing but a few spare bandages that you scooped into your arms before looking back at him. You tilted your head, “Healing isn’t linear. It’s perfectly normal to feel like you’re on top of the world one day and then like it’s crumbling around you the next.”
He stood, walked over to you. Thirty percent.
“I don’t want to disappoint them.”
“You won't.” You shook your head, “You made a big step, coming back to camp. That's it for now, you don’t need to take any more big steps for a while.”
He nodded, “No more big steps.”
“Not until you’re ready.”
Luke’s hands reached out, taking the bandages from where you cradled them to your chest. He put them back onto the desk behind you. Ten percent.
His eyes bore into yours, “I don’t think I’m done healing.”
You shook your head surely, “I don’t think you are, either. And that’s okay.”
He nodded, lips clicking when he parted them, “Which means you’re not allowed to leave me yet. You have to stay with me until I’m fully better.”
You shook your head then, stammering, “It’s — that’s not how it works. What you went through, it — you might not ever be fully better.”
But Luke just nodded like he knew that already, taking a step closer, “I think I’m okay with that.”
“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. What the hell do you say to that? “Okay.”
He nodded, pressing his lips together, “So you’re not gonna leave me.”
Five percent.
A shake of your head, “Not until you ask me to.”
“Good.”
He wrapped his arms around you, and you froze. Okay, he was real. He was really there. You were sure. You hugged him back — he buried his face into your neck and whispered something about you never leaving him again and you whispered something in return about how you wouldn’t dream of it.
So, apparently, you severely underestimated what it was like to be friends with Luke.
You’d thought about it — of course you had. You would imagine what perfect golden boy Luke Castellan was like when he didn’t have to be a perfect golden boy. When he could just be a boy, hanging out with his friends like a normal person would. What jokes did he tell? Did he still keep up that Luke Castellan Grin or did he relax into an easy smirk? Did he make his friends follow the rules even when they were alone? Did he follow the rules when he was alone?
You wondered, although you never thought you’d actually find out. But he’d made it clear you were never leaving his side so long as he still needed you — and he was sticking to that. Firmly.
The summer sun was hot on your back — only this time your dad seemed to be going easy on you, as you weren’t completely uncomfortable under the warm cotton of your camp shirt. You still wafted it every now and then, proving some cool air to your chest, but overall you were feeling good.
You walked into the Amphitheatre with the rest of your siblings — who were less than amused that, despite Luke’s return to camp, Tyler P from the Hephaestus cabin was still running sword fighting practice. They heaved themselves onto the tiered seats with dramatic groans, but he simply grinned at them.
You paused from where you were about to sit down next to Alina when a waving hand caught your peripheral. It was Luke, tucked into the very top corner of the steps, smiling at you from the shadows.
“What the hell are you doing?” You asked when you reached him, raising your brow in amusement. He patted the spot next to him and you sat down, just as Tyler began to talk. Luke leaned in.
“I’m watching.” He muttered into your ear, then he smirked at you, “You can’t stop me from doing that.”
“I wasn’t going to.” You murmured, leaning back on your elbows and watching as your siblings paired up reluctantly. “Thanks for pulling me away, though. Gives me an excuse not to take part.”
Luke huffed a laugh, “He can’t be that bad, right?”
“Just you wait.” You smirked.
Turns out, Tyler was that bad. Every ‘new skill’ he tried to teach them either (a) they already knew, something Luke liked to whisper at you with a shake of his head, or (b) he couldn’t even do it himself, let alone teach others how to. Another thing Luke commented on from where he sat beside you, hands aching to get in there and show him what was what.
“Just one tip, and then I’ll go.” He begged under his breath as Tyler dropped his sword for the umpteenth time. “Please.”
“No.” You didn’t even look at him, “Because one tip turns into a demonstration. And a —“
“— a demonstration turns into a class, yeah yeah.” He rolled his eyes, but you just grinned at him. He smiled, “You’re mean.”
“I know.” You said in a faux-sympathetic tone. You pouted at him, “I’m just so cruel, aren’t I?”
His eyes narrowed, and his mouth stretched into a disbelieving grin, “Damn, doc. What happened to you?”
You scoffed amusedly, “You did.”
His mouth dropped open and you smiled, looking away. He poked your side and you shuffled away with a giggle, attempting to ignore his riled up smile. He didn’t relent, for every inch you moved away from him, he scooted right back towards you. You looked at him with a narrowed gaze, “I miss when you were too miserable to talk to me.”
“No you don’t.” He shook his head. He was right, you didn’t.
He let out a slow breath through his nose, and you felt it on your face. That was when you realised how close your faces were — mere centimetres apart. You swallowed thickly, but you didn’t move away. Luke’s smile stretched, and his hand began to inch up your arm.
You squinted, “What are you doing?”
It was his turn to feign confusion, pulling his lips into the same pout you did only moments earlier, “What are you talking about?”
His hand was at your elbow now, sliding higher. You shook your head, a minute movement, “Doctor Patient Fraternising isn’t allowed.”
He gasped, pulling his hand back in favour of placing it dramatically against his chest, “It’s not?”
“Nope.” You grinned amusedly, “Sorry.”
“Damn.” He leaned back, glancing at you for a second before looking back towards Tyler’s shitshow of a sword lesson, “Guess I’ll have to get another doctor.”
You snorted, “You’re a loser.”
You stood up and went to rejoin your siblings, and Luke shouted after you, “I’m your loser!”
“What was that?” Lee asked when you stopped beside him.
“What? Oh,” You glanced back at where Luke was sat, and he averted his gaze from where he had been looking at you. You looked up at your brother, “He’s just happy to be back, is all.”
He chuckled, “Sure.”
Whatever. He was your person again and Lee could suck your dick if he had anything to say about it.
🏷️ @aceofswordsandarrows @cowsandcomics @number-onekidqueen @kestisvrse @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons @how2besalty @iinlovewithfictionalppl @lilacspider @l0ve-dov3 @coffi-cake @ironmanbaldes @onecojg @hiraethavis @freaking0utficrecs @delphifarms @wildlyfreemoon @candylandy8173 @sinnercry @featherofthecrow @babellucci @telliette @totallynotnic
#i hate this#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan is a loser and i love him#percy jackson#luke castellan x you#pjo
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