#I have hated my voice since I was like fucking 12
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Reminder to everyone that someone you know loves part of you that you hate so pls treat urself kindly <3
#A freshman I know just told me that she loves my voice#I am barely holding myself together rn#I have hated my voice since I was like fucking 12#And this little 14/15 year old tells me that she loves my voice#I must protect this child at all costs#personal
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Sport is not safe for intersex people. I’ve known this ever since I first heard about how the olympics has treated intersex athletes. Especially intersex people who aren’t white. Hell, I have a whole pretty popular post that still gets reblogged about how much the high level sporting world has hurt and ruined the lives of intersex people. But I’ve been reminded again of this in the past few days. It’s so fucking hard and crushing to see people all over talk about how people like you are disgusting, cheaters, freaks and more.
I’ve been playing competitive soccer for years, since I was about 12. I’m obviously not an Olympic level athlete, or anywhere close, but I’d say I’m pretty good at my position and have put in countless hours over the years to get to this point. I grew up watching Christine Sinclair score goals for Canada and I screamed so hard with happiness my voice gave out when I watched as Stephanie Labbe made an amazing save in penalties to win Canada the gold at the Tokyo olympics. Like a lot of kids, I’d sometimes dream of standing beside them, triumphant on the podium. But it seems that that dream isn’t one intersex kids are allowed to have. Because god fucking forbid we be athletes, or even worse, good athletes. God fucking forbid we are better in our sport than another person, because a target is painted on our backs. Especially, especially for intersex women who aren’t white.
Intersex people in sport aren’t allowed to be strong or talented. We aren’t allowed to be world class athletes. The world doesn’t want us to exist, but especially not in sport.
It makes me so fucking angry. Because much as the dream of competing in the olympics will never materialize for most kids, it’s still a dream that’s allowed to exist. Intersex kids don’t get to dream of the olympics the same way, because the sporting world hates us.
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I don't usually request things but I saw that your request were open and that you're more of a fluff writer and thought this would be perfect for you. I'm not sure if you e written so.ething like this or not, so if you have feel free to ignore.
Lando Norris with a gf who always wears contacts and has to switch to her glasses for some reason but he didn't know she wore contacts (since they are a pretty new couple only a few months) and he thinks her glasses are so fucking adorable because they are kinda big and nerdy and now he always wants to see her in them
glasses | l.n.
my masterlist
You hated being blind.
Ever since you were little, you had been prescribed glasses because you couldn't see all that well. Of course, hoping you would be rid of them in a couple of years at most.
Oh, how wrong you had been.
There you were, in your 20s, still blind as fuck. But this time, nobody could really tell you needed glasses because you had opted for contacts instead.
That's the Y/N that Lando knew. Not the glasses, just the normal you.
You'd never actually told Lando about your vision problem, and he hadn't managed to figure anything out. You would put your contacts in as soon as you woke up and take them out before bed, all without Lando giving you a second thought.
But, unfortunately, your contacts era was going to come to an abrupt end.
You had scheduled a regular check-up with your optometrist, wanting to check things out as you usually did. But she seemed very concerned when she explained her findings to you.
"It looks like your eyes are very irritated because of the frequency with which you've been using your contacts, Y/N. I'm afraid you're going to have to switch to your eyeglasses for a while" those words had hit you like a ton of bricks.
You hated the way the glasses made you look, all big and round on your eyes like a nerd. You hated them, you hated even seeing them hidden away in your nightstand, and now you had to wear them?
Permanently?
Oh, boy.
Getting home to an empty apartment had never felt as good as it did in that moment.
Lando has been in the UK at the MTC for the last couple of days, and was supposed to be coming home in the evening. Plenty of time to think about what you were going to do when he got back and saw your glasses on the bridge of your nose.
You knew you were practically making a big deal out of nothing, but you couldn't help the thoughts swirling around in your mind.
How would Lando react? Would he love the glasses? Would he despise them because they made you less attractive or something? You couldn't have any of that, you loved him too much.
You sat on the couch, lost in your thoughts for what seemed like hours. The only thing that broke you out of your trance was the sound of keys jiggling in the lock and the door opening and closing.
"Babe, I'm home" Lando called out, just around the corner from the living room.
Your eyes widened, not realizing so much time had passed that Lando had already arrived home.
Any kind of plan you might have come up with in those few hours went out the window, now replaced with accepted defeat that in a few seconds, Lando would round the corner and come face to face with you.
Just as predicted, Lando entered the living room 5 seconds later, leaving his suitcase at the entrance while making his way to you.
"Hey" you said, your voice small as you timidly raised your head to look at him.
He stopped in his tracks, his eyebrows furrowed with confusion at the sight of your glasses.
“What’s with the glasses?” he asked, chuckling as he inspected your face.
In all truth, he thought you looked adorable with them. But to you, his silence was the worst possible thing in that moment.
You sighed, resting your head in your hands. Seeing how beat up you seemed to be, Lando took a seat next to you on the couch and started rubbing your back.
“I can’t see all that well, have had a prescription ever since I was 12 and I’ve had contacts for years now. When I went to my optometrist this morning for a checkup, she told me my eyes are irritated because of how long I’ve worn contacts, so I have to wear my glasses for a while” you explained, your voice slightly muffled by your palms but clear enough for Lando to understand.
“Okay, and what’s wrong with them? They look hot on you, why do you look so sad?” he asked, making you look up at him in confusion.
“What do you mean they look hot? They are ugly, they make my face look big and I hate wearing them” you explained the problem, but nothing you were saying was phasing Lando in any way.
He smiled at you, his eyes lingering on your glasses for a couple of seconds before he started speaking.
“Baby, you look hot both with and without your glasses. I personally prefer you with them” he cooed as he held your face in his hands.
“But they make me look like a nerd” you pouted, making your expression even more adorable in his eyes.
Lando shook his head, standing firm on his statement.
“Y/N, I don’t care whether you wear glasses for the rest of our lives or not, you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world in my eyes, even more so with them on your pretty face” he said, pecking your lips twice.
You sighed once you pulled away, your chest feeling much lighter now. The fear that you had been feeling since the morning wore off, relief settling in instead.
“Thanks” you said, biting your lip before leaning against his side, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder.
Thank God.
And so, ever since that day and for the remaining of your relationship, Lando made it his mission to show you just how much he loved those glasses on you.
Especially in bed ;)
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REASONS WHY SAE ITOSHI THINKS YOU'RE A MURDERER
you're kinda fucked up but not a criminal! but don't worry, sae kinda likes it
happy late birthday sae itoshi ur a cunt i love u
THE APARTMENT
The first time Sae meets you is at Aiku’s birthday party. He hadn’t intended on going, but it was either going to the function or have Oliver and the rest of the U-20 team get on his ass for being a no-show. Both options sucked, but Sae ultimately decided on wearing some plain, black button-up and one of the five identical black slacks he owns (they were bought at the same time, Sae doesn’t know why he did that but he had an urge and he had the money). When Aiku opened the door to apartment 408, the first thing Sae noticed was you, still dressed in creased and suspiciously stained pajamas, dragging a black garbage bag across the floor. He made the wrong decision, Sae concluded.
It was at the party where he got formally introduced and learned your name. He expected to forget it but that night, he found himself searching it on Google, making sure you weren’t a criminal just to sleep without worries. Before drifting off, he swore he saw a search recommendation as “...’s victims” but he’d rather not go to practice the next morning with the heebie jeebies.
THE DEPARTMENT STORE
A shelf of pots stood in front of Sae, each one lined perfectly with each other as a row of pans hung from above. Sae ran his fingers across the handle of a black stainless steel pan, feeling the cold metal glide across the rough calluses of his fingertips. Ever since he landed in Japan and moved out of his parents’ place, his diet was lacking and blasphemous for an athlete of his caliber. The culinary skills he had acquired in Spain were put to waste in his apartment that looked more like a rent listing.
“Oh, Itoshi? Good morning!” At the sound of his name, Sae shut his eyes and inwardly groaned. The last thing he needed to deal with was a fan approaching him in public but the recognition of an oddly familiar voice urged him to take a slight glance at whom it may be. In the corner of his eye, there stood you, holding the largest butcher’s knife he had ever seen in his eighteen years of living.
The blade was the size of your head, reflecting the beaming smile on your face, one too bright for your menacing stance. Your eyes glimmered underneath the department store’s white lights as you grabbed the handle of the weapon with both hands after rapidly waving. Sae’s heartbeat intensified and he placed the reason for the imminent threat before him—there could be no other definitely more rational reason.
Sae grumbled back a “good morning” before walking off with a sturdy saute pan. He could not answer if it was out of fear, to be polite, or maybe a secret (and evil) third option.
THE ATTEMPT
Hot steam had fogged the mirrors of Sae’s bathroom when he stepped out of the shower. As he dried his hair, the screen of his phone lit up with a new notification. Recently, the only phone alerts he had been getting were from his manager and occasionally his parents. It wasn’t that Sae Itoshi was a loser—he just hated almost everyone in his contacts. But when he opened his phone to an unknown number, his brows furrowed in confusion.
YOU: hi its y/n!!! oliver gave me ur number hope u dont mind ^_^
SAE: <thumbs up>
YOU: thumbs are my fav finger by far they look so chewy
SAE: Wtf
YOU: do u wanna get lunch together tmrw :D
SAE: Ok
SAE: Why tomorrow
YOU: I know what your entire schedule is.
YOU: Meet me at my apartment at 12:00 PM
YOU: Do not be late.
SAE: <thumbs up>
Sae looked out of his window and made sure all his doors were locked before going to bed (but he also stood in front of the full-body mirror in his room, holding different shirts and pants up to himself, wondering what you would like to see).
THE ATTACK
Apartment 408 smelled strongly of herbs and spices when you opened the door for Sae. The cologne he had put on that morning would be overpowered by your cooking and he’d drive home reeking of a hearty lunch rather than designer fragrance. On the kitchen island, a pot of stew rested on a large coaster as a rice cooker was set to “Keep Warm” on the counter. The strong aroma was delightful to his senses and the slight rumbling of his stomach led him to sit and quietly thank you for cooking.
“What do you want to drink? I got all kinds of tea and beer ‘cause Oliver is kinda an alcoholic,” you ask, holding the refrigerator door open waiting for him.
“Water is fine, thanks.”
You grab a pitcher and glass for him then move back to the dishwater for plates and utensils. Before sitting, you untie your light blue apron and fold it next to the kitchen sink. If Sae were any other person, he would almost miss the suspicious red stain in the inside of the pocket but considering the two of you were in an environment with several potential weapons in the vicinity, Sae decided keeping quiet was the smartest choice.
“I hope you like beef stew, Oliver says it’s the least potent thing I make and would have the best impression on you,” you confess. “Help yourself, I don’t think I put anything lethal in it.”
“Don’t think?” Sae questions with a raised eyebrow.
“Who knows with all the chemistry shit that happens, maybe I made mustard gas without knowing…”
“You invited me over, shouldn’t you care more about the guest’s safety?”
“Not really, it’s more exciting this way. Aren’t you feeling a thrill right now?”
“I’m only feeling concern for myself.”
“Isn’t that so fun?” you inquire with too much glee for the predicament. Sae thinks you’re 100% fucked up in the head and thinks he has around a 80% of making it out alive. “It’s like Russian Roulette!”
"Haven’t you considered that the average person doesn’t want to die from poisoning?”
“Who said you would die?”
“You?”
“Oh. Whoops. Still exciting though! Let’s see who wins!”
It didn’t take long for Sae to finish the last of his meal—it was unfortunately tasty. Sae wiped his mouth clean with a napkin you gave him and brought his dishes to the sink.
“Guess you didn’t kill me,” Sae nudges you with a smug grin. “You should try harder next time.”
“Wait—next time?”
“Yeah. Try again text week, I’ll text you my schedule.”
“Thank you so much for that, you don’t know how much I had to spend to get this week’s schedule from a stalker fan,” you confess in relief, blissfully unaware of Sae rapidly turning his head to stare at you.
“You what?”
“You’re literally the best; rent’s coming up so I really need that.”
Sae concludes you’re a danger to society but to keep himself and the public safe, he has to see you again. Sitting in his car, he quickly pulls out his phone and sends his manager a text to keep Tuesday of next week free—that’s when you have the most time (to spend with him). He puts the date in his calendar and this time, turns the notification on.
#blue lock#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#bllk#bllk itoshi sae#sae itoshi x reader#sae itoshi#itoshi sae#itoshi sae x reader#blue lock itoshi sae#blue lock sae#bllk sae#blue lock fluff#sae itoshi fluff
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𝖒𝖞 𝖋𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖎𝖘 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖓
✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ plug!ryusei shidou x f!reader
Genre: smut Notes: iiiiiii want him n need him desperately ♡ i made him icky, manipulative and dress like pete davidson warnings: 18+, (soft?)dom!shidou, sub!reader, dubcon, drug use (weed), blowbacks/shotgunning, reader has pubes!, ryusei has a gold tooth, virgin!reader, corruption kink, dumbification?, fingering, blowjob, head pushing ♡, male masturbation, use of nii-chan (not referring to ryusei), slight dacryphilia, shush!kink, praise, pet names, cum eating ♡, he calls your pussy 'her', slut used once. words: 7.1k
“No way am I coming over. Your big brother would kill me.”
Ryusei can’t stop himself from smirking when he can hear your attempt to conceal a whimper. And he just knows there’s a plump little pout on that pretty little face on the other end of the line.
He’s been dealing to your brother for years, they’re basically best friends if you subtract the client aspect from the equation. They smoke together, they’re always hanging out and Ryusei isn’t a stranger to the apartment you and your brother share.
“How did you even get my number anyway, darlin’? Reaaaal naughty of ya to be calling me like this. Gonna be in big trouble if I tell your nii-chan.” he tells you. And this time you hear the smirk behind his voice. He’s teasing you. He’s toying with you, but you still can’t stop yourself from becoming paralysed with fear.
“He gave me it for emergencies! Please don’t tell ‘im!” you sigh. “He’s on some weekend work trip because he’s tryna get a promotion. I’m just lonely…”
“Awe, and why is that my problem?” he asks, harshly. It takes you aback slightly though your determination doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath and try to formulate a response in your mind.
“You guys are always havin’ fun together… but you never let me join in. I wanna have fun with you too, Ryusei—”
“No.”
“But—”
“I said no.” he stands firm and shows no signs of backing down. He hears the little deflated exhale you release, and he licks his lips as he thinks. He doesn’t want you to be sad, but he knows fucking around with a client’s sister behind his back is a stupid fucking idea. “You’ll be alright on your own. Why don’t you invite one of your friends over.”
“W-Well… I just wanted to see you.” you tell him, honestly. “I— I wanted to try smoking with you.”
He chuckles when he hears that. It hasn’t been a discreet crush you’ve harboured since you saw him for the first time. You may have thought otherwise, but Ryusei has always known. He kisses his teeth and laughs again as he thinks about this tantalising proposition being thrown onto his lap.
“You’re really tryna get into trouble this weekend, huh? Do you always invite drug dealers over?” he wonders, knowing the answer already. He knows you’re a good girl who always does as her nii-chan says. But today you want to let your hair down. Today you can let your hair down because he isn’t here for the whole weekend. You can be a little naughty and reckless and have some fun for a change. “Are you that lonely, baby? Jus’ want some company?”
“… Y-Yes. ‘m lonely…” your lower lip wobbles as you think about being in the same apartment all by yourself for the next two days. You’re fine now, it’s only 12:30pm. But what about when it gets dark out? You’re a stupid girl who lets her mind run wild with the possibilities of ghosts and home invaders. You’ve seen one too many horror movies while your brother and Ryusei are high in the front room for no regard to your taste in genre. You hate horrors but you’ve seen so many thanks to them. And now your mind is racing. What if you got kidnapped or killed for the fun of it? “I don’t wanna be alone, Ryusei… ‘m so scared.”
He grits his teeth, resolve crumbling as he thinks about you all alone in the apartment he’s spent so many nights in. So many pointless nights where he could have been out making more money or fucking a multitude of girls who don’t hide their attraction for him. So, is he really about to sacrifice the same for you?
Lonely, frightened, you?
“Well, we can’t have that, can we? I’ll be there in twenty.”
Now that he’s here you’re not sure what you were thinking. You’ve never smoked before. You’ve not even had a sip of alcohol before! But you know drugs are Ryusei’s whole life right now. Selling, buying and occasionally consuming. He locks the door behind himself as he enters. He’s wearing a wide grin as he comes in and approaches you.
He thinks you’re just the sweetest little thing.
Your feet walk you backwards as he gets closer to you, lunging forward to grab you when you almost trip over your pink Kirby slippers that your brother got you for your most recent birthday.
“Clumsy girl.” he grins, gripping into the fat of your underarms. He leads you over to the couch and more or less throws you down onto it. He dumps his backpack on the coffee table. “What time does your brother come home, sweetheart?” he asks, not even looking your way as he takes out his belongings and spreads them out on the table.
“Uh—” you think, eyes squinting as you look up at the ceiling and try to act natural. “Monday… morning.” you tell him.
“Well, I’m sure he won’t mind if I keep you company ‘til he gets back, right?”
“R-Right…” you aren’t so sure about that, but you’re hardly going to disagree with him. Though in truth, he knows he’ll be furious. But the time he cared about your pathetic brother’s opinion has been and gone. What kind of man would he be if he left a poor defenceless thing like you all on your lonesome in such a sketchy part of town?
You watch him carefully as he pulls out a grinder, some papers, and a large baggie of weed and puts them all down on the table. Your mind wanders as he describes the effects to you, none of it is computing. And it gets even worse when he starts talking about different strains doing different things. As far as you were aware, weed was just… weed. You’d never heard about strains or effects. All of your knowledge comes from movies. Tripping, munchies, all of the cliché stuff.
He grins when he sees your dumb expression. Of course you’re not understanding anything he says. All you need to know is that you’ll be okay because he’s here to look after you. He’s here to take you through it.
You watch him as he grinds it up in a tall metallic grinder. And seeing him roll is like witchcraft to you. It’s not like it’s the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve seen it up close. Your nii-chan always exiles you to your bedroom when they’re rolling and smoking. You’re only allowed out once they’re high, though it’s never stopped you peaking from the crack of your door.
Your eyes widen in disbelief as he holds eye contact with you while he licks the paper. Suddenly you’re looking anywhere but in his direction. He’s revelling in it, making you so uncomfortable and shy. You really are sweet ‘n innocent, huh?
“Here.” he hands it to you, his voice earning your attention and you look into his pink eyes before they drop to the blunt in his hand. You look back at him, confused, and he finds himself adjusting the baggy shorts he’s wearing in hopes that you haven’t noticed the way his cock jumps when you tilt your head so stupidly. “What? This is what you wanted.” he speaks, his defensive tone surprising you.
“But… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never smoked before…”
“Never? Not even a cigarette?” he asks.
“Nothing… never smoked or had a drink or even been to a party. Nii-chan is too protective.” you pout. He wants to fucking ruin you. You’re so fucking cute and stupid he thinks he might cum in his underwear just from hearing you speak. You’re so obedient and it makes you so fucking stupid. As if you aren’t a grown woman who could get her own apartment and do whatever she wants. “Will you show me?” you speak, cutting through his thoughts.
He nods, effortlessly. He lounges back into the couch, legs spread wide as he lets the blunt balance between his lips. It’s lit instantly, and you can’t believe what a pro he is. He’s got one of those stupid lighters. The ones with the metal bit you have to spin with your thumb rather than one of the plastic ones you just push down. You can never use them. Your brother always lends them to you when you want to light a candle, but he always ends up lighting them for you.
“Get me somethin’ to use as an ashtray.” he tells you, it’s a rude demand rather than a request. But his lack of manners doesn’t stop you from immediately jumping to your feet and rushing over to the kitchen sink. You just washed your brother’s ashtray this morning. You smile happily as you hand it to him, clearly willing to do anything he asks whether he’s polite about it or not.
He takes a few more drags and flicks the ash every so often. And when he’s halfway through, he looks at you, expectantly.
“Your turn.” he tries to hand it to you again. You take it, and you flinch as he also forces the lighter into your palm. “You didn’t invite me over just to watch me smoke, did you? What, are you trying to take advantage of me?” he laughs, running his tongue along his top row of teeth. His golden canine twinkles at you, halting you from speaking for longer than you’d intended.
“It’s not like that! I just— I’m nervous, and I hate these lighters.” you explain. You stiffen as he rolls his eyes and adjusts his body, angling it to face you. His stare is harsh, bordering on agitated. It’s only fair, you think. He hadn’t planned on spending his day babysitting you or showing you how to do something so simple. “’m sorry.” you speak, it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it. Almost.
“Open up.” he commands. You’re confused at first, and before you know it his rough thumb is tugging at the fat flesh of your lower lip. “I said: open up.”
You clear your throat and angle your body in a similar way to him. Although you’re nowhere near as tall or intimidating as him. You’re like a sullen little dormouse, respecting the orders of your master. Your lips part ever so slightly as he places the blunt between them. Your lips close around it, keeping it perched firmly between them. He can see lip gloss residue smearing on the paper; his depraved mind is going into overdrive. His lewd thoughts encompassing him, he needs to break free and focus on you before you start to ask more silly questions.
He tucks your hair behind your ears and away from your face. A brief thought crosses his mind of how embarrassing it would be to get caught by your brother because he singed your fucking hair.
“Don’t just suck it, yeah? Breathe it. You wanna feel it go in your chest, alright?” he asks you, it sounds like a reminder. Like he’d already told you this and he’s making sure you are listening this time. It’s hard not to when all you can focus on is him. How he’s staring at you. How he smells like cheap aftershave and weed. The smell of weed is revolting, truth be told, you aren’t sure how you’re going to be able to inhale it without gagging.
He flicks the lighter a few times and keeps an eye on your expressions and your breathing to make sure you’re doing it right. You look terrified.
And he likes it.
Your eyes get wider and wider the more you inhale, and he’s worried they might pop out of that pretty head of yours. You suck and you breathe in as much of the earthy smoke as you can until it embraced your lungs like an invader claiming its new home. He can’t hide his laughter when you begin to choke, realising you are the good girl you’re claiming to be and absolutely have never smoked anything in your life.
“Everything hurts.” you tell him, still coughing and sputtering out lingering smoke as your eyes water. “It tastes like shit…” you continue, covering your mouth as you can’t stop yourself from choking anymore. He gets up, handing the ashtray to you to balance the blunt in and he flees the scene of the crime without a word. He returns a few moments later with a glass of water, he even added in a few ice cubes for you.
“Think you’re all grown up because you’ve had your first puff?” he wonders, “Never heard you swear before, darlin’.” he finishes as he hands the glass to you.
“I swear… I’m allowed to swear, Ryu.” you answer defiantly.
Cute, he thinks. You really are trying to sound all big and bad for him. But he’s never going to take you seriously after that little display, you’re just a little girl trying to act tough. A cute girl trying to be the cool girl.
But you both know you’re far from cool. A cool girl wouldn’t care so much about pleasing her brother and being a good girl for him. A cool girl would do whatever she wants without fear of the consequences.
At least you’re trying, he thinks.
You glug and you glug until you soothe the suffocating dryness in your chest. He’s transfixed on a droplet of water clinging to the corner of your mouth, unable to tear his gaze as it begins to run down your face. And he can’t think of a cuter sight than you still trying to be the cool girl, wiping it away with the back of your hand before he can notice despite it being much too late for that.
“C-Can I do some more?” you ask him, big wet eyes blinking at him as you hope he’s still willing to guide you.
“Think you can handle it?” he asks. “Get some more water.” he commands, not even letting you answer first. It’s probably the right call, though, you’re hardly going to be accustomed to the feeling of smoke contaminating your insides after one heavy inhale.
You follow his pathing from moments before, getting yourself some water and fresh ice cubes before returning and facing him again. You drink so much; he grabs your wrist and moves the glass away from your lips before you down the whole thing.
He lets out a heavy breath as he holds the blunt and sees how your lips immediately part for him this time without being asked. Fast learner. His thumb pulls at the metal wheel twice, each time it sounds make your eyes flicker further open.
“Breeeathe.” he demands, and you obey. You take it waaaay better this time, holding it for longer after he pulls the lighter away and takes the blunt from your lips. “That’s it, atta girl.” he smiles as you slowly exhale, only coughing a little bit. Your little hands are immediately reaching for the glass of water you set down moments before.
“I feel…” you try and think, eyes darting around the room in search of the right words to use. Your eyes close without your permission, humming happily as you embrace the feeling, a cheery smile visible on your face. “Weird…” you giggle, deeming it the only appropriate word that springs to mind.
“Is that right, baby? Feelin’ weird?”
“Mhmm.” you sigh, dreamily, letting the feeling consume you wholly. You want to melt into the couch beneath your thighs; and you involuntarily begin to lean back into the plush leather before Ryusei stops you. “My eyes are hurting, Ryusei…”
“Mm, I’ll bet. They’re all bloodshot, princess. Think you’re high.” he smirks.
“Wan’ some more.” you tell him, reaching to take the blunt from his hold. He moves his hand away. The fat, brown joint just out of your tired reach. And fuck he can’t stop his cock from twitching when you don that pout. That pretty little pout that you can’t stop yourself from displaying any time you’re disheartened. “P—lea, p-please…” your lower lip juts out further.
“C’mere.” he instructs you, his empty hand patting at his adjacent thigh. He sees the hesitation in your eyes. The little protest lodged in your throat as you think what a bad idea this could be. Why does he want you to sit on his lap? Your heart is racing with possibilities. Is he going to try and kiss you? Or is it simply an easier position for him to help you smoke? “Move, baby, now.” his voice is firm, almost scary. Your movements are slow, but you find yourself moving on his order regardless.
You go to him, but he stops you as you try and sit nicely in his lap. It isn’t quite what he had in mind. He doesn’t want to baby you like the princess you want to be for him. You’re like a ragdoll as he positions you, limbs loose beneath his touch until you realise you’re straddling him. His legs are spread wide, relaxed, and you’re hovering above him a little.
“Open your mouth f’me.” you’re like a robot, complying with each and every command he issues without hesitation.
You’re too good, too perfect. And Ryusei Shidou is quite the opposite; he’ll ruin you if you aren’t careful.
But right now, you couldn’t care less.
Your dewy lips part, wider than they had earlier until Ryusei seems satisfied. He’s relieved you’re only hovering over him, or you’d have definitely felt the way his dick twitched at the sight of your pudgy lips widening for him.
He relaxes, fully, his own eyes becoming more bloodshot as the minutes go by. Weed doesn’t affect him like it used to, not in the way it’s affecting you. But he’s calm. All of his thoughts are collected, and he feels at peace. It’s probably the reason he’s being so brazen and not giving a second thought to the consequences of being with you anymore.
While you’re waiting for his vision to be realised, while you’re waiting for the reason as to why he wants you in this position with your lips spread, he lights up the blunt once again. You watch him through a heavy-lidded stare as he takes a hefty inhale.
You sense him planning something, the cogs whirring sinfully in his mind as he looks between your eyes and your lips as he inhales the smoke deeper and deeper into his lungs. He rests his arm over the rest of the couch, harbouring zero consideration for the potential ash staining the cream carpet below.
He tries to close the distance between your bodies, and you instinctively jolt away from him, your lips clamping shut just as quickly. As much as he wants to smile, to laugh, his lips remain neutral and sealed. His empty hand holds the small of your back. His fingers drift, trailing up the column of your spine. He flattens his palm between your shoulder blades, pushing your face and body closer to his. His right hand remains between your shoulder blades, the other coming around to tug your viscid lower lip until your mouth is ajar. He leans in, closer. The closest he’s ever been to you in the entire time you’ve known him.
He's going to kiss you.
Your heart is thumping, the intense beating, hammering your heart through blood, muscle tissue and flesh. Your eyes close instinctively, and at that, he does smirk.
His eyes alternate between yours, and your gloss covered lips. And then his are ghosting yours, not close enough to touch but not far enough for you to not feel their presence. His gaze becomes heavy, lustful as he observes you. He’s fixated on how you react as he blows the smoke from his lungs into yours.
Your eyes widen as you realise he isn’t kissing you, but your mind is hazy as you realise what he is doing. His lungs shrink as he empties them, but he doesn’t move. He smiles, though, and you fucking feel it. He’s waiting patiently to see just how desperate you are for him to kiss you.
Your breathing is intense. He can hear each breath you take through your nose as you try and compose yourself. You try and calm down and hide your burning shame from him. He knew what you’d assume and chose not to correct you. Just to see you squirm.
But you want to kiss him.
You want him to kiss you.
He chuckles lightly when he sees a nervous little gulp plummet down your throat, he’s sure if he blinked he would have missed it. He wonders if your eyes always vibrate so intensely when you’re nervous.
“Did you like that?” he whispers, his lips still inching away from yours. You feel each and every breath it takes for him to speak that sentence.
“Yeah…”
“Yeah?”
“Mm… mhmm…” you nod, eagerly and yet somehow still awkwardly. “D— Can you do it again?” you whisper. It’s so meek and downright precious he can feel pre fucking ooze out of his tip.
He adjusts his position, nodding, his lips almost catching yours but not quite before he pulls away to smoke some more. Your lips part beautifully and he’s smiling sinisterly yet again. His hand travels from your back to hold the crown of your head, you can’t back away this time, not that you’d want to. He’s keeping you in place as he slowly begins to puff smoke past your desperate lips.
You moan, involuntarily, as you feel your mind cloud and your body grow wearier. But still, you can’t get enough. You can’t fully satiate your desires of intoxication. Not with drugs. Not with attention. Not with touch. You need him. More of him.
“Baby?” you hear him mumble, his lips clumsily toying with yours as he refuses to fully close the gap between them. “I think ya wanna kiss me.”
You squeak, almost, a high pitch whine sounding through your nose as the uncomfortable statement surges through you. Were you so pitifully obvious the whole time? You lean in closer, attempting to close the separation between you. But he pulls away, ever the tease, and he can’t help but relish the whimper that claws its way up your throat.
“You ever even kissed anyone?” he asks, closing the gap once again. “Y’know, since you’re such a good girl.”
You feel the tips of your ears and face begin to sear with heat, embarrassment flooding through your blood. You nod, defiantly, doing all you can to assure him you’re not the big loser he seems to think you are.
“I have… ‘ve had boyfriends before… Ryu…” you tell him, though it’s still a little humiliating.
“So,” he starts, his hand holds your hip as he adjusts himself slightly. Thumb stroking your side calmly, despite his cock driving ever so gently into your core as he moves. Not hard enough to set off alarm bells, but just enough to leave a lasting impression. He bites lip and releases it just as fast as his eyes rake over you, and you feel so small under his stare, despite him being the one looking up at you. His fingers weave and comb through your hair until he gets a tight enough grip. Your noses are touching before he tilts his head, your lips barely lingering on one another’s as you each fight against fully committing. “If I kiss you right now, it’s gonna be worth my time?” he whispers.
In truth, it’s been a while since you kissed anyone. You haven’t had a boyfriend since high school and that seems like a lifetime ago now. But you don’t want to go another second without feeling his lips fully pressed against yours. So, you nod. It’s weak and unconvincing, but you nod anyway.
It’s enough for him. In truth, he wouldn’t have cared if you’d never been kissed before. He’d be more than happy to teach you, though he’s sure he’ll teach you plenty anyway. He’s going to turn you into a masterpiece; one that has been created only for him to enjoy.
His lips slot against yours and it’s like an explosion. You’ve been fucking starved for him, and you can barely remember to breathe as it intensifies. Suctioning sounds repeat as you kiss without stopping. Neither of you remember to come up for air until you’re gasping.
Your lips part divinely as his tongue pushes past them and it’s so rapturous as your little wet muscle meets his. He groans, loudly, as he licks and swipes all while you’re moaning pathetically into his mouth. He bets your soaked, he’s rock hard and leaking like a virgin getting his first hand job after all.
“Stick out your tongue.” he tells you, and like always, you do as you’re told. He licks at it, swirls his own tongue around it. He sucks it until he’s heady with lust.
His body collapses against the back of the couch, and like the perfect pet you follow him. You can’t stop making out with him now. You can’t possibly get enough. You doubt it would even be enough to crawl inside his skin and live out the rest of your days there.
You’re addicted to him.
He pushes your body down so that your crotch is fully pressed into his. The feeling of his throbbing cock almost entirely against your panty-clad mound is a surprise to say the least, you hadn’t expected it and your surprised expression gives you away instantly. But he doesn’t comment right away, instead, he grinds his crotch against yours as you carry on kissing. Your breath fans across his face, you’re delirious from the sensation of him being against you like this, you’ve never known anything quite like it.
“Feel what you’re doin’ to me?” he chuckles, parting away from you enough to look up at you again and lick his lips. But you chase him, you think you might stop breathing if you deny yourself of him. Your tongue pushes past the seam of his lips, and of course he doesn’t object. He feels your little wet muscle searching for something, and he can’t contain the amused scoff when he realises you were tracking down his gold tooth, the tip of your tongue licking it from behind all of the way to the front until you reach his gums. “Fuck… you’re filthy.” he informs you before kissing you again.
You giggle before he yanks at your hair. Flirtatious laughter being forced into a tantalising gasp, your head angled so that you’re looking up at the ceiling above. The column of your neck is almost enough to make him cum. It’s so fucking bare. So pure and untainted. He wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you. To cover you in hickeys and bite marks so that everyone knows what he fucking did to you.
But he knows, deep down, it isn’t worth it. It isn’t worth the questions and the bullshit and the drama. Not this time, anyway. Instead, he leaves gentle kisses and soft suckles against your skin. His tongue leaves fat, wet stripes over your throat and pulse point, hot breath fanning over them between kisses. You’re keening for him as his lips begin to ascend. You’re shuddering against him as he breathes heavily, deliciously, into your ear. His hand drifts to squeeze your tit over your crop top as he continues to breathe thickly into your ear canal. The intensity forcing your skin to break out in goosebumps.
You mewl, and it’s a fucking siren song as he sucks on your earlobe. He drives his covered cock up into you as he takes the cartilage between his teeth, alternating between that and sucking like he’s trying to get milk from nipple.
“Does anyone else know what a naughty little thing you are?” he talks directly into your ear, thumb rubbing over the thin material of your top, your hardened nipples unfortunately hidden behind your push up bra. “Or do you only get like this f’me?”
“Jus’ you…” you sigh, your arm wraps around his neck so that you can hold his head the same way he had yours. Tiny little fingers toy with blonde and pink tufts, he groans slightly at the comforting feeling.
“Darlin’… you know you have to pay, don’tcha?” he asks. It’s so out of the blue, you push away from him. He grins as he watches the confusion and horror take over your facial expression. You were so blissfully at peace, lost in the feeling of his lips and his touch all over your body. “Drugs aren’t free, y’know.”
“B-But…” you think, panicking, “I— nii-chan only left me enough for emergencies…” you tell him, hoping he’ll take pity on you. He offers a fake little pout, tutting at your excuse. It’s so feeble and pathetic and he loves how easy it is to mess with you.
“Awe, baby.” he offers faux sympathy, his thumb stroking over your cheek yet again. “You better do what I say then, yeah? Gonna have to keep bein’ a good girl f’me, ‘n then we can forget the whoooole thing.”
“What do you want me to—”
He thrusts his hips up, and you lose balance, falling perfectly into his arms. He tugs at your crop top, urging you to take it off. You start pulling it upwards, though it’s too slow for his liking. He yanks it over your head, getting a quick eyeful of your tits and aqua blue bra before he sucks hard into the fat flesh of your breasts.
You’re too busy moaning, rolling your hips against him to notice he has unclasped your bra with one hand. He pulls carefully at the straps, ridding you of the material covering part of your modesty. He bites his lip and breathes heavily as he ogles them. You feel the way his cock pulses against your cunt.
“S’fuckin’ pretty—” he muses. You feel different, now. You’re fully on display for him and you are completely at his mercy. Your rational mind is telling you to give him the emergency money your brother left and send him on his way. But sadly for you, your poor neglected pussy wants him to stay and have his way with you. “You’ve gotta suck my cock, baby. Now.” he demands.
Your heartrate sky-rockets. Things are moving so fast you can barely process it at all. You look down between your thighs and see the ever-growing bulge in his shorts. Can you argue with him? Reason with him? It doesn’t matter either way, you’re already sliding carefully onto the ground and getting down on your knees between his spread legs. You aren’t sure where to start. Everything you think about doing dies a sudden death with each new idea that comes to the forefront of your mind.
“Pull it out, hurry up.”
Little hands shake as nimble fingers grip onto the waistband of his shorts. You pull and you pull and he lifts his body to help in your efforts. He almost grunts as his cock springs free, pearlescent pre leaking a ton from his twitching slit.
“Mmmm…” he moans as he grips his cock at the base, shaking it a few times so that the tip hits your nose softly, soupy liquid sticking to you as he does. “Be a good girl, show me how bad you can be.”
There’s not a single universe where you’re successfully concealing your apprehension from him, though he thinks nothing of it. He thinks you’re nervous because you’ve had a crush on him for quite some time now and you don’t want to disappoint him. Your hands carry on shaking as you grab onto his length. He’s huge, both of your little hands are holding him in your grasp and there’s still more of his thickness unable to be held.
You think to start off you should clean the tip; you lick and lave over his throbbing head and your face scrunches as you register the warm tanginess permeating your tastebuds.
His body almost dissolves into the couch as you start to take more and more of him. He shoos your hands away and holds himself so that you can balance your hands on his thighs. His free hand holds your head, forcefully attempting to shove you further and further down on his length until you’re choking on him. You’re spitting and sputtering just like you had when you smoked.
“S’cute.” he moans. The light praise encourages you to keep trying for him. So, you do, try. You try to give him mind blowing head. You try to remember to use your tongue to keep him nice and stimulated as you bob up and down on his cock. You even remember one of your friends telling you that squeezing your thumbs stops you from gagging as much.
But it’s all in vain.
Ryusei hisses, flinching from an amalgamation of too much teeth and not enough spit. He snatches you away by your hair, seeing red veins stabbing through the whites of your eyes as they begin to gloss over. A watery sheen telling him of your deepest shame and embarrassment.
“Are you a fucking virgin, baby?” he wonders. His cock spills more pre as he sees tears fall from your eyes and cascade down your cheeks. The little sniffles you can’t stop are a symphony to him and he can see the way your throat is choking back audible cries. He can hear the little croaks trapped there, though, poor thing. “Never sucked a cock before, have you?”
“’m s-so sorry.” you stop fighting your losing battle as you start to cry, utterly humiliated that your secret has come to light because you did such a terrible job giving head. “I’ll— g-get my purse ‘n then you can just g-o. I’m sor—”
He leans forward, hand snaking between your thighs to cup your cunt. “Never had a cock in her, huh? What about fingers? Anybody ever ate your pussy, sweetheart?”
“N-Nothing!” you speak, almost defiantly though that wasn’t your intention. You’re feeling vulnerable and defensive. You’re embarrassed, and he has his hand somewhere nobody has ever touched you before. “Only kissed before…”
“Mmm… no wonder you’re so wet.” he speaks, though he isn’t seeking a reply. He’s simply musing to himself. He should have known, really. When would you get a chance to fuck and learn how to suck cock when your brother practically holds you hostage in this shit hole apartment? “I won’t fuck you, today. You’re not gonna suck my cock either. Come here.” he continues, he grabs both of your wrists and drags you back to your previous position with little effort. You’re above him, again, your thighs straddling his. “Stand up, actually.” he orders, you obey.
Your tits are still exposed and you’re standing in nothing but your pleated mini skirt and silk panties beneath. He twirls his finger, encouraging you to do a spin for him. You complete it, quickly, your skirt raising ever so slightly and exposing a peak of pink silk before you find a neutral position once more.
“Slower.” he tells you, so you spin again. Slower, just for him. “Stop.” he tells you when your back is facing him.
“Is something wrong, ah—!” you yelp as he ruthlessly kicks the inside of your ankles until your legs are spread apart from each other.
“Bend over, put your hands on the table.” he instructs you. You’re slow in doing so, not wanting to rush this time; though you still feel your heartbeat in your throat. Your skirt rides up, the pink silk completely covering your most precious secret. Though he grunts at the sight, unable to control himself. His jaw clenches and bubbles at the sight of brunette curls peaking from the sides of your panties. “Holy shit, fuck.” he sibilates, thick long fingers hooking into the pink silk. He wastes no time tearing them from your body, shoving them into the pocket of his hoody.
He grabs the globes of your ass, kneading the flesh under your little skirt and parting your pussy lips in the process. He’s enamoured by the sight, the way your arousal has soaked your pubic hair. It’s shimmering, he can’t help but to touch and toy with your pubes when they’re taunting him like this. He can’t remember the last time he fucked a girl with a cute bush of hair like yours. It’s always fucking waxed and landing strips and of course he won’t complain, but seeing your intimate form in all of it’s glory like this… you’re perfect. You’re fucking holy.
He pushes a single finger hastily into your wet hole. You almost fall forward; you cry out from the feeling of being stretched for the very first time.
“Never shave this fucking pussy, yeah? Leave it like this f’me.”
You don’t reply, mind spiralling from the feeling of pain and pleasure as he burrows his finger in deeper and begins to curl it when he feels that perfect little spongy spot buried deep. Your cheeks are stained with glittering tears, the overbearing living room light not offering you any courtesy in that regard. Your tear-stricken face will be exposed to him, eventually.
Will he care?
Will he show concern?
Will he be sympathetic since he is the cause?
It appears not. He holds no consideration as he pummels a second finger inside of your gummy interior. He scissors them again and again and again until you’re practically screaming. It feels worse when he pushes against the spot. That spot that blinds your fucking vision.
“A-Ah. Aaah—!” you sob, scream, anything your body can physically project in your current state. It almost feels like an out of body experience. “Ouch! Ow, R-Ryusei. Hurts! Hurtin’ me—!” you explain. He wraps an arm around your midsection, fingers still cosy deep inside. He pulls you back, your spine flush against his chest. His hand moves from your stomach to your mouth, silencing your cries and whimpers as his fingers carry on battering your g-spot.
“Shhh, it’ll feel good in a minute.” he informs you. “Rub your clit, baby, show me how you touch this virgin cunt.” your entire body becomes scalding in an instant, the lewd language and very notion that you masturbate filling you with unease. But without question, your fingers find the swelling nub between your pussy and begin to rub and rub.
He rests his forehead against your shoulder, smiling down as he hears painful cries turn to libertine moans. His smothering hand frees your airways, allowing you to send your mewling into the airspace freely. He squeezes his cock, hard, and begins to masturbate himself. A sticky, clacking sound filling the room. It’s mixing in with the sound of your squelching cunt.
Your eyes cross as he finds a perfect rhythm with you. You’re sure you look like a bona fide whore, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re balancing on the balls of your feet with your legs spread open wide, putting your cunt on full display. Your left hand digs into the leather arm rest beside you, the only form of balance you have.
You’re so fucking loud. He’s never heard anyone scream or moan as loudly in his life, though he’s one to talk. He’s on the verge of cumming after so much torment and he couldn’t be more vocal if he tried.
“D-Do you want all the neighbours to hear what a little slut you are? Want ‘em to tell your brother you got fucked stupid while he was gone?” he asks, it’s rhetorical, of course. He doesn’t care that you’re being loud. He just wants to torment you, tease you and build that unadulterated shame that you’ve had embedded in you your whole life. You are the product of repressed sexual urges. Would you have let a drug dealer strip you and play with your cunt if you weren’t so desperate and needing to be toyed with?
“’m gonna c-cum. Fuck, Ryusei! Cumming f-for you—!” you cry, your walls squeezing his fingers until they feel close to breaking. “Oh my god…” you sob. Your poor little virgin slot throbbing and pulsating around his thick heavy fingers and you continue to cum for what feels like a lifetime. His curling fingers dragging out the feeling for as long as humanly possible.
“Hah- haah- ah, fuck!” he finishes, white, gluey fluid shooting up your back. He fucks his fist until he drains every last drop from his swollen balls. He admires his work, smearing the remaining residue on your ass cheek and your skirt. He wonders if you’ll remember to wash it, God forbid your stupid brother find a cum stain on it.
He scrapes his cum onto his fingers and orders you to face him. He brings his sperm to your lips, expecting you to know what to do.
“Eat.” he says. You hesitate. He wants you to what? It’s a liquid, you can’t eat it. Does he want you to lick his fingers? Put them in your mouth? He’s sick of waiting, however, forcing them by your lips until the bitter taste coats your tongue. “Eat it.” he looks at you with venom in his stare.
You hold his hand sweetly with both of yours. He watches you as you suck his fingers, internally thinking how much better you are doing this than you are at sucking cock. He bears his teeth, the golden one glimmering in your eye once again as you continue to clean the cum from his digits.
“Thaaaat’s it, good girl. It’ll get the taste of weed out of your mouth.” he tells you. You finish sucking, releasing his fingers with a gentle pop before placing his hand back on your thigh.
He allows his fingers to lightly caress your skin. The pads carefully glide over you as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him for the final time during this encounter. But he wanted to fuck you, didn’t he? He wanted you to suck him off properly, too. He’ll let it go for today, but this certainly won’t be the one and only time you’ll bare it all for him.
You still owe him for the weed, after all.
He thinks he might set up a depraved little payment plan for you.
© 2023 rinitxshi
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Lift Me Off My Feet
Chapter 12: Finale
Masterlist
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12
“You are not listening!” You shout, frustrated with the man.
In the couple of weeks that you have known and lived with them, you never expected that you would end up arguing with them. Even less with Price.
“No, Birdie. You are the one that needs to listen!” The man argued back.
“You got me fired, John! What else do you want me to hear?” You ask, running your hands through your hair.
It finally set in, the reality that the idyllic life of living with the four of them without a worry was just an illusion. You were here because you were hiding, and they were here because they were hiding you.
“I didn't get you fired, Birdie. Your boss did.” Price says, crossing his arms.
“Don't get sassy with me! He told you that they needed to know if I could get back to work any soon or they would be forced to fire me and you told them to do so!” You shout again, feeling like Price is lying to your face. “Why would you do that?!”
“Because you hate that job!” He shouts back. “And you don't need to work!”
“Yes, I do, Price! Yes, I do!” You say, a dry laugh leaving your throat. “Like everyone! I can't just live sponging off of you guys!”
“That's not what's happening and you know it, birdie!” He exclaims. “Don't manipulate the situation into making it look like a bloody transaction!”
“I'm manipulating the situation?!” You ask, pointing to yourself.
“Yes! You are making it look like we are paying you to stay with us, birdie!” He explains, moving his hands to his hips.
“Oh, for god's sake, Price!” You exclaim, rubbing your face. “Why don't you exaggerate it a bit more?! I don't even know why I'm arguing with you about my job!”
“Neither do I?! Because I think it is pretty much settled!” He says, walking away towards the kitchen.
“IT IS NOT SETTLE!” You scream, shocked by his response. “The reason why I don't know why we are arguing is because I don't know who gave you the right to choose over me!”
That makes him turn around, looking at you like you grow a second head. “Well, excuse me. For believing I have a say in your life, I just assumed I could since we bloody love each other and all that!”
“Don't pull that shit on me, Price! This has nothing to do with love!” You say, crossing your arms. “I don't have a say on your work! So why should you have it on me!”
“It's not the bloody same!” He says, rubbing his face.
“It's not for you because it doesn't benefit you!” You scream, looking back when you hear the door open as Gaz, Soap and Ghost enter the house. The three of them having left the house not too long ago to buy breakfast.
“What's going on? We could hear the shouts from outside.” Gaz asks, entering first and looking between Price and you, seeing the wide cliff between the two of you.
“Nothing!” Price barks, crossing his arms again.
You ignore the looks on everyone's face, instead walking to the door.
“Where are you going now?!” Price asks, moving to be able to see you.
“Out! So I can fucking breathe without feeling I'm choking!” You say, opening the door after the boys closed it.
“Don't go far!” Price says, still caring under all his bad mood
“I KNOW I CAN'T GO FAR!” You say, slamming the door on your way out.
You hate screaming, hate shouting, hate raising your voice and even more if it is at Price or any of the men inside. It's not their fault and screaming at each other is not the way to fix it. But you can't help it, tired of being pushed around at everyone's mercy without asking what's your choice.
Sitting down on the step right outside the house, not wanting or needing to go any further, you hide your face behind your hands, letting your palms get wet with your tears.
“Hey, you alright?” A man's voice says, making you look up, to come face to face with an unfamiliar face.
You don't have time to answer, because something hits the back of your head and everything blends to black.
Price updates the boys once you are out, he tells them your ex-boss called, told him you needed to get back to work the next day or he would fire you, he tells them how he told him to go ahead since you couldn't go back to work jet, he tells them about how he wasn't able to tell you about the empty position at base that you could filled to work with them because you started screaming, he tells them about how he lost his cool and just screamed back instead of explaining.
He tells them everything, feeling like the worst person in the world for making you leave the house with tears on your face. It's Gaz the first one to stand up. “I'll check on her.” He mumbles, as he walks outside to an empty staircase. He walks down, checking both sides of the street only to find it just as empty.
An anxious feeling starts to brew on his stomach, entering back to the house with a worried expression on his face. “She's gone.” He says almost casually, as if not voicing one of the biggest fears the men around him have had for the last month.
“What do you mean she's gone?” Soap asks. “She must be around the block, she'll be back in a bit, mate.”
No one believes him, not even himself. You wouldn't have walked out of his sight like that, not without dragging them with you, not without a phone, not without telling them.
There is a beat of silence, each debating whether it is plausible that you simply left, all of them feeling that the most possible chance is that something happened to you.
“I'll check the car camera, it is parked right in front of the door.” Ghost says, taking his phone out to check it.
They all check the screen, seeing the door open and close. They see you sit down, body shaking as you cry, Price feeling his heart shrunk at the sight knowing it was his doing.
They then see the two men walking in front of you, how one of them takes advantage that you have your face covered to stand behind you, how the other calls your attention to look at your face, and how once he knows it's you he nods to the other man, who knocks you out hitting you with a bat at the back of your head.
The wave of all the different emotions hitting them at once keeps them in place for a second, paralyzed on their chair. Soap jumps first, talking about checking the cameras on the street, checking the cars, their licence place, anything.
But it doesn't reach Price's ears, the only thing he can hear is the voices in his head telling him that he has failed twice now. The first one he wasn't able to keep you close enough when you left in the middle of the night, and now he was the one that pushed you away.
You were just on the other side of the door a moment ago and now… now he didn't know where you were. All because he didn't explain himself and let his emotions take control of him.
“Price!” It's Ghost's voice that wakes him up, standing beside the sergeants. “Move.”
That's all he says, and that's all Price needs.
They'll get you back, whatever it takes.
Two weeks.
That is what it takes them to finally find a trail.
That is what it takes Price to breathe again.
That's what it takes Simon to let be seen outside the office.
That's what it takes Soap to let himself be embraced by any of the others.
That's what it takes Gaz to stop baring his teeth to everyone.
They have a trail.
And god knows that's all they need.
What you need, is a doctor. A shower. A glass of water. A nap. Anything that is not forced or thrown at you.
Two weeks of torture.
Two weeks of just getting hurt, insulted, humiliated, all of it just for the purpose of causing you pain.
The henchmen of the man you used to say good morning to were the ones that have stolen you away.
The ones that have thrown you into an empty dark room.
The ones that have “interrogated” you about who you worked for.
The ones that have “interrogated” you about how much they paid you.
You didn't say a word, which usually resulted in a punch to the face or a kick to the ribs.
You want to believe that they will find you.
That they will take you back home.
That Price will forgive you for shouting at him.
Hell, if you die and the last thing you did was shout at him.
You'll live.
They'll find you.
Two weeks.
Of fighting with yourself.
The side that says you'll live.
And the side that tells you to give up already.
The second one usually wins.
Like today, when the man that enters the room every day walks up to you, limping and with a knife in his hand.
He yanks your hair, pulling you up on your feet and pressing the knife on your throat. “Make a sound and it'll be the last thing you do.”
He moves you into a chokehold, pushing you in front of him as he walks down the hall. There is shouting and the sound of guns inside the building.
The moment he sees the car where they push you in, the one they saw on the cameras; Price almost needs to pull Simon back from running inside the building.
This is it.
This is the headquarters they couldn't find for so long.
The headquarters where all the important information and the guns they have looked for so long are at.
The headquarters where everything that matters is.
The headquarters where they kept you at.
Price sends Ghost to the building on the other side of the road, not trusting the man in face to face with what they can find inside.
And he obliges, hating the rank differences.
They move in, clearing room after room.
No sign of you.
The move to the second floor.
You are not there.
More and more people that hit the ground when they found them.
You are still missing.
Until you see it.
The unmistakable blue cap on Gaz's head.
And you shout.
You shout louder than you shout at Price.
You shout louder than when Soap scared you hiding behind the door.
You shout louder than when you called for Ghost when you thought he fell on the shower but it was just the shampoo bottle.
You have never shouted at Gaz.
Until now.
And the moment you do you feel the blade dig into your skin, moving your hand between the knife and your neck.
The three of them turn to you, immediately updating Ghost and telling him to move.
The window behind you is almost like a target for a perfect shot.
But Ghost can't shoot.
Not when he can see your head.
Not when there is a possibility that he may hit you.
But he can when you move.
When you grab the blade, breaking the skin of your fingers, and you pull back just enough to squish yourself down.
You are still against his chest, the man still holding you. But Ghost can now see your head, lower than before. And the arms around you quickly go limp, falling forward taking you with him.
A ringing in your ear keeps you from Price's voice calling your name. Everything is dizzy for a moment, there is a warm sensation on your elbow and when you look back a red pool of blood is bleeding onto your clothes.
You liked that t-shirt.
You'll need to try with peroxide, see if you can take the stain out.
Your brain ignores the corpse lying next to you, but for some reason you can't stop looking at the blood on your elbow.
It isn't until Price cups your face, your grimey, bloody and sunken face. And you look up to him, his blue eyes.
And you let yourself cry.
After two weeks.
You cry.
So hard you can't see nor hear anything.
You cling onto Price, hiding your face on his neck, digging your nails on his back needing to feel him under your skin.
Apologies fly from one to the other.
For shouting, for pushing away, for failing to protect, for not shouting, for being taken away.
You feel two more pairs of arms around you, feeling the fourth person only when you start to leave the building.
Not much longer an ambulance arrives, finally taking you to safety.
The four men in the car right behind.
Recovery is just as slow.
No permanent physical damage.
But not all the wounds are on the skin.
Those heal quite fast.
And soon you are back on your feet.
On your scared, wobbly feet.
The boys are back around, always one of them close.
“I'm never leaving you out of my sight again.” Price says, cupping your face as he kisses your forehead. “I don't care if I sound like a madman.”
They make it easy to get back.
Price finally tells you about the job at base, which you gladly apply for.
Surprisingly you got it, and started working soon.
It was easy.
You got a better flat, easy to pay when four more people chime in for the bills.
You got a better job, with better pay and a better boss.
You got, not only one, but four lovers.
And you have all the time of your life to heal everything that's left.
You still wonder how you managed to get into your garage that night.
But now you're glad you did.
And with this, ladies and gentlemen.
Lift Me Off My Feet comes to an end ❤️.
Thanks for joining along, for all the support that you have given me the last couple of months, for the patience between chapters, special thanks to @darkangel4121 for listening to me complain so much and to everyone who has joined and will join the blog.
I love you, my lovelies 💗
TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @cassiecasluciluce @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tired-writer04 @evolutionarry @prettykinkysoul @pagesfalling @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3 @tooloudarts @sodavrr @anirok2 @lilliumrorum @ladyxtiger @multy-fandom-lover @thriving-n-jiving @lotionlamp @spicyspicyliving @xxeiraxx @vampirekilmerfic @keiraslayz @risingofjupiter @witchthewriter @soupinasock @phantomly27 @arbesa-mind @multifandomheathenannie @spadekip @cmbghost @herefor-tojis-tits @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe
#call of duty#ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod x reader#cod#john soap mactavish#ghost cod#simon riley#john price x reader#task force 141#call of duty x reader#cod modern warfare#soap x reader#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price#captain price#call of duty modern warfare#captain price x reader#gaz x reader#soap#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick#kyle gaz x reader#john mactavish#john mactavish x reader#poly 141 x reader
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Watching interviews from the olden days and finding gold.
Finding out that Hugh Jackman having to "be the alarm clock" for James Mcavoy and Micheal Fassbender because of how hung over they were is simply hilarious.
Also finding out that James slammed them into a Lexus (only doing 12 miles an hour) got thrown 10 feet, immediately got up and looked back to see Micheal (who was once on the back of the golf cart) now sitting upright in the drivers seat after smacking his head on the seat and got a gash scar on his leg from it- Only to start "maniacally laughing" and literally RAN AWAY once blamed, Is also so young cherik coded.
These crack heads definitely were getting into some nonsense trouble.
Micheal saying he thought the scene from the strip club with charles and angel "I thought we looked like the two old men from the muppets"
Micheal calling the x men "Charlie- boy's kids". Perfection.
Also the way James looks at him when ever Micheal just bursts out into song is so pure. The "wow this idiot... thats my idiot." Glitter in his eye.
James finding out that Micheal isn't american by driving up to him on a vespa, and screaming at him in his normal voice is so funny.
"Fuck you erik-"
"His names derik."
"How long has he name been derik?"
"Since the begining- you just keep calling him that."
Even the bloopers of Hank and Charles are such a vibe.
"Hold your breath but make it look like you aren't holding your breath" Man these leather suits gave them so many problems fr.
"I already said im not a man. I cant jump this damn wall!" I think storm says as the director goes right up to hugh and is like "Litsen when I say so youre gonna jump this wall" and hughs like idk about that mate. "Ill be talking to you through the big microphone that everyone hates" says the director. "Were gonna take the batteries out if it" says someone else.
Hughs stunt double: *screams*
Hugh: Let it go sis
Hughs stunt double: *dies*
Something about how the directors talk to hugh and how hugh speaks directly to multiple set members makes me feel like half the cuts they had to make was because of him joking and being a silly theater kid LMAO
Everyone randomly dancing all the time, including old magneto.
James too. The blooper of him violently killing a bug on the chess set in the plane scene is so "insane charles" iconic.
Also poor Evan peters. He kept slipping everywhere. And theres so many shots where hes just standing there in charater getting absolutely soaked while charles and Logan do some ridiculous shit lol. Him at panels is so awkward too. Describe your character " hes a little weird uhhhh hes fast. Hes quick. He talks fast he runs fast..... uhhh its like at the atm waiting for the bastard infront of you to move out the way" "I wish my dad magneto could try these 😀" "thats my dad"
Evan also wishes they would have done the scene in apocalypse where he tells him hes his son and all the metal in the room drops. Im someone has written this already but that sounds great.
"THATS MY SON, QUICKSILVER!" Shouts Micheal multiple times. "My boy!" "Its in the genes darling." "I had him when I was very young 😁"
#bloopers#x men mcu#james mcavoy#micheal fassbender#cherik#evan peters#hugh jackman#x men days of future past#x men#x men movies#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#beast#hank mccoy#quicksilver#dadneto#x men apocalypse#x men dark phoenix
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Making Amends
summary: a fancy party & praising || you finally see why michael hates going home for the holidays and treat him the way he deserves
pairing: michael gavey x f!reader
warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, breast/nipple play, heavy praise, riding, brief cockwarming, cursing, brief mention of daddy kink but it’s not used, dirty talk, angy michael (not at reader), angst but happy ending, parents being stupid, choking, let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 3.4k
a/n: happy day twelve of 12 days of smuff!!! we did it!!! a very merry christmas to all those who celebrate; i hope your holidays are full of love and fun! I hope y’all enjoy this one & i look forward to writing many more stories in the new year!
TAUNT | Part 1
PRAISE | Taunt Part 2
this one can be read as a continuation of taunt & praise or as a stand alone!!
12 days of smuff masterlist!
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!
“Ohh, Michael!” An older woman croons, making you and your boyfriend turn your heads at the same time, “How lovely to see you!”
“Nice to see you too, Aunt Janet.” Michael says, his voice monotone, and gives the woman an awkward half-hug. You give him a sympathetic grin when he rolls his eyes at you over her shoulder.
“And who is this?” She asks, turning to look you up and down with a smile.
“She’s my girlfriend,” Michael explains, taking a second to introduce the two of you, “We met at uni.”
“Nice to meet you.” You smile politely and shake her hand.
“How wonderful!” She turns to you and puts a hand on your forearm before leaning in slightly with a grin, “We were beginning to give up on this one ever finding someone to put up with him!” She grins, giggling like it’s the funniest joke in the world.
You merely awkwardly chuckle, though it only takes one glance at Michael to know he’s fuming. You can’t really blame him, this is how it’s been all evening, ever since you’d arrived at his parents house. Michael had tried to talk you out of accompanying him to their annual Christmas party, claiming that hell would be a lesser punishment, but you’d insisted, saying it couldn’t be that bad.
When you’d first pulled up to the Gavey’s home, you’d been excited! They’d gone all out with the decorations, though Michael claimed they usually did, but that didn’t stop you from marveling at all the garland, lights, and wreaths that adorned every inch of the house. And since this year’s party was apparently more formal than usual, that just gave you the chance to ogle at your boyfriend in a tux, which was an automatic win in your book.
And yet, here you are, listening to yet another joke at Michael’s expense and hating every second of it. It seemed like every relative and family friend had one in store, if it wasn’t about finally finding someone to put up with him, it was about what he must’ve done to bribe you into it, or that he must be paying you to be here. Not to mention the backhanded compliments; you’d grown so tired of hearing remarks about how they’re so happy that Michael had finally found someone or, “Oh, finally! Took him long enough!”
“Old fucking bat,” Michael mutters under his breath as Aunt Janet totters off, “Knew we shouldn’t have come.” He grumbles, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.
“M’sorry, babe,” you sigh, giving him a small half smile as you place a comforting hand on his leg, “I don’t understand why they can’t simply be nice.
He scoffs next to you, rolling his eyes with a sardonic smile, “Wouldn’t be a real Gavey Christmas without snide comments, fucking losers.”
The evening continues in the same fashion and suddenly you understand why Michael has always been so defensive and eager to prove himself, you would be too in a family like this.
You can tell your boyfriend is operating on a very short fuse and offer him a placating smile every time you notice him clenching his jaw or notice his breathing pick up, chest heaving under his black suit jacket.
However, it’s finally a comment his father makes during dinner that sets him off. You’ve hardly started eating when it happens, with everyone sitting around the Gavey’s impressively large dining room table passing various dishes back and forth.
“So,” Mrs. Gavey started, giving Michael a pointed look as she refilled her glass of wine, “How were your marks this term?”
You glance down in time to see your boyfriend white knuckle his fork and quickly stroke a hand over his knee, which seems to help lessen his tension somewhat, thankfully.
“Distinctions,” he answers dryly, keeping his eyes fixed on the table, “Obviously.”
His mom simply nods, not offering any praise or even a generic, “Well done,” much to your surprise.
And a few seconds later, everything blows up.
“How’s that friend of yours doing?” Mr. Gavey butts in, setting his steak knife down as he speaks, “What was his name? Owen… Oscar, maybe?”
“Oliver.” Michael corrects him, so quickly and quietly that you’re surprised his dad even catches it.
“Oliver! Of course, and how’s he doing? Hm? You haven’t mentioned him in some time.”
There’s a beat of silence in which you fight the urge to kick Mr. Gavey under the table, knowing exactly where this would go.
“We don’t… talk anymore. I haven’t seen him for ages.” He grits out; his leg tenses up under your palm once again when his mother lets out a disappointed sigh, as if she were getting ready to scold a small child.
“Michael, honestly,” she starts with a small shake of her head, “It’s not good for you to be so socially isolated all the time.”
“I’m fine.”
“What about that other boy you used to go around with, hm?” His mom continues on, seemingly oblivious to his foul mood, “The one you were so close to in primary school, oh, he was lovely.”
“Felix, wasn’t it?” Mr. Gavey quips, “Whatever happened to him? I always thought he had such a good head on his shoulders.”
“He’s a cunt.” Your boyfriend seethes lowly, all but vibrating with rage as he spits each word out.
“What was that, dear?” His mom asks, none the wiser.
“He’s a cunt!” Michael exclaims, his fork clattering across the table as he tosses it down, scraping his chair back across the floor.
“Michael!” Mrs. Gavey chides, a horrified look on her normally placid face as she, quite literally, clutches at her pearls.
“If you’ll fucking excuse me.” Michael mutters, tossing his cloth napkin down onto the table with a dull thud before retreating from the table with a growl.
The silence that follows is deafening as everyone stays frozen at the table for a moment; you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the shell shocked expression on his grandmother’s face.
After a beat, Mr. and Mrs. Gavey begin falling all over themselves to apologize, awkwardly laughing as they make excuses for Michael, as if their bullying hadn’t made him snap.
“I’m gonna go check on him,” you say after a moment, giving polite smiles to his parents as you stand from the table, “Just to make sure he’s okay.”
“Of course, dear,” his mother nods sagely, ever the beacon of motherly wisdom, “We know how sensitive little Michael is.”
As soon as your back is turned you roll your eyes, nose wrinkling in disgust. Little Michael? What the fuck?
It only takes you a minute to locate him upstairs as you quickly spot the door to his childhood bedroom tightly closed. You smile sadly as you walk over to it, you pause for a moment before knocking softly.
“Michael?” You call, pressing an ear against the door, “You in there?” Your brows furrow when you hear a small sniffle from the other side of the door and your hand automatically goes to the doorknob, a sigh of relief leaving you when it easily turns.
Your heart breaks when you push the door open and peek inside, quickly spotting Michael on his bed, head in his hands, shoulders shaking.
“Oh,” you breathe, hastily closing the door as you let yourself into his room, “Michael.” You sigh, sitting beside him on his small twin bed and slinging an arm around his shoulders.
“M’fine…” He says softly, dejectedly.
“You are not,” you pull him to you, rubbing a hand over his bicep as you hold him closely, “No one would expect you to be, not after all that.”
He merely nods and tucks his head into your neck, sniffling sadly as his blond hair tickles your chin, one arm wraps around you while he busies himself with plucking lightly at the hem of your dress, running his finger over the smooth satin seam.
“You wanna talk about it?” You ask softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of his head.
“Not tonight,” his voice is muffled slightly against your collarbone as he speaks, “Please.”
You nod, opting to stay quiet and simply hold him for the time being.
You don’t know how much time passes but eventually, he seems to calm down, at least his shoulders stop trembling and he stops rubbing at his eyes and sniffling.
Finally, once his breathing has evened out, you decide to speak up.
“They don’t deserve you.” You murmur, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart twisting when you see his beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red.
“Love…” He sighs, ready to fight you on it.
“That’s all I wanted to say,” you assure him quickly, “They don’t.”
You hold his face in your hands gently, studying him with a soft smile. He really did look delectable in his suit, so smartly put together and polished.
Michael must be feeling the same way, no doubt riding the small high that usually came after a solid rush of emotion. His eyes darken as he looks back at you, Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly in his throat as he swallows thickly.
You don’t know who moves first, unable to find it within yourself to care as his warm lips slot perfectly against your own.
A relieved groan sounds from his chest and his hands immediately come up to cup your waist, his thumbs rubbing appreciatively over the soft material of your dress as you shiver, already getting lost in his touch.
“Mikey,” you murmur, biting into your lower lip as he kisses down across your jaw, his hands scrambling to pull you into his lap, “S-Should we?” Your voice trembles as he gently sucks at the sensitive spot on your neck, drawing your mind further and further from the party taking place downstairs.
“Need you,” he rasps, unable to stop himself from smirking as you keen against him when he skirts his hands up your form to cup your breasts through your dress, your nipples already hard and wanting against the satin, “Just – I need you, love.”
He’s so desperate, you couldn’t say no and finally decide to throw caution to the wind. You smile triumphantly as you run your hands over his trim waist, tucking them under his jacket to get closer to him, savoring the feel of his warm skin even through the thin material of his button down.
Finally, you push the suit jacket off his shoulders and, needing to feel him against you, waste no time hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt, yanking it out from under his trousers and belt before quickly dropping both to the floor.
Apparently just as impatient, Michael chooses to simply push the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders and growls deeply when your dress falls down your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Without missing a beat, he pulls you closer to him, groaning as your core presses tightly against his still-clothed erection. As soon as your chest is level with his face, he mouths at the underside of your breast, cupping the other in his hand. He peers up at you through his glasses, already fogging up against his cheeks, as he wraps his pink lips around your nipple and gingerly sucks it into his mouth, groaning against your supple skin at the breathy moan you let out.
You hold his head against your chest, fingers gripping tightly at his short hair as your head tilts back, small whimpers and whines escaping past your lips as you try your best to stay quiet. Your hips seem to move of their own accord, rocking against him as he worships your breasts.
“Michael,” you whimper, your core clenching tightly when you look down and take in his flushed face. You press your lips against his again, frantically kissing him as your tongue invades his mouth, “What do you want?”
“You.” His reply is automatic, his hands kneading greedily at your tits as he stares up at you, bare chest already heaving.
You can’t help but chuckle a little, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that he’s already this strung out. Nevertheless, you give a quick shake of your head, smirking when he whines impatiently.
“How do you want me, Mikey?”
The desperate look behind his eyes softens instantly, his pink lips parting enough to reveal the tiniest sliver of his front teeth. Somehow, he blushes more and just barely shakes his head at you, swallowing thickly like he always does when he’s flustered.
“Can you be on top?” He asks quietly, blue eyes flitting between yours behind his gold-rimmed glasses, “I just – I don’t have it in me to be daddy tonight, love.” He confesses quickly.
You chuckle again, always impressed with him when he shows his more vulnerable side, and instantly you nod, cupping his soft cheeks again.
“Of course I can do that,” you keep your voice soft, even the small kiss you give him is soft, “Lay back for me, yeah? I don’t wanna wait.”
Nodding eagerly, he doesn’t waste time and leans back on the narrow bed, helping you climb atop him as he does. He groans appreciatively as you settle on his hips, licking his lips as he stares up at you. He watches as your breasts heave with every breath while his hands trace down over your hips to cup your ass.
“You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmurs, tugging your dress up over your bum before kneading the supple flesh, watching intently as you whimper above him, “So soft and pretty and fuck– fucking perfect.” He finishes with a growl, blue eyes rolling back when you rock down against him.
Heat courses through your veins at his words and you hurry to undo his belt, the metal buckle tinkling softly in the quiet of his bedroom as you push it to the side, too frantic to bother to pull it off him entirely. Your fingers quickly find the button of his trousers and you all but yank them open the second you have the zipper undone, sighing happily as his hard cock bobs against his stomach, the head already flushed and steadily leaking.
“Jesus Christ,” he groans, his back arching a little with the relief of his erection finally being freed, “Y’gonna ride me, princess?”
“Mhm,” you nod with a smirk, wiggling on his lap as you situate yourself perfectly above his length, “You deserve to be taken care of, Michael.” You coo softly, bending forward a little to pull your lacy underwear to the side, not having the patience to properly remove them.
Your comment seems to have gone to your boyfriend’s head and you smirk when you feel his cock jump up, twitching against your center as a soft groan leaves him. You bite your lip when you grab his length, loving how warm it felt in your hand. Carefully, you position him at your dripping center and slot the head against your entrance.
Both of you moan in unison as you sink down slowly, his thick length filling you completely as your hips finally press against his.
“Goddammit,” he curses, roughly grabbing your ass as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep himself anchored even though he knows in the back of his mind it’s useless with how tightly you’re gripping him, “You feel so fucking good, pretty girl, fucking love this sweet little cunt.”
His praises go straight to your core and you clench around him, somehow tighter, making him grunt underneath you. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start moving your hips over him, using your thighs to push off of his lap before sinking back down, whining when you feel the head of his cock press perfectly against that delicious little spot inside you.
“You’re so good, Mikey, fuck,” you pant, fighting to keep your eyes open to savor each expression that crosses his flushed face, “Y-You feel so perfect, holy shit, everything about you is perfect.”
He groans deeply, lower lip trembling as he stares up at you in awe, brows furrowed as he takes in every inch of you. Blue eyes trace slowly over your form, lingering on your face before looking over your breasts. He swallows thickly as he pauses to watch them bounce tantalizingly, matching every one of your thrusts against him. Eventually, he looks down and moans softly, watching your slick pussy move over his length.
“Yeah, princess?” He encourages, making you smile softly as you realize how badly he needs this, how badly he needs to be told how good he is.
“Y-Yeah, shit,” you whimper, head spinning when he leans up to lick over one of your nipples, gently suckling at the bud as you continue, “You’re the best, Michael, fuck – best boyfriend, you’re so smart and s-so precious and f-funny and – and God!”
You practically squeal when his thumb comes down to rub at your clit, your eyes crossing at the sudden jolt of pleasure that washes over you.
“I love you, holy fuck,” you huff, thighs burning as you move somehow quicker over him, “I love you, I love – oh, shit – everything about you.” Your voice is hoarse as you breathe through soft pants, practically squirming on top of him as your head spins every time he circles his thumb over you.
“I love you too, princess,” he hums, pulling you down for a quick, desperate kiss, “You’re so damn good to me.”
“You deserve it,” you say quickly, swallowing as you pant above him, your heart hammering wildly in your chest, “You deserve everything, Michael, you’re so, so good.”
He growls at that, lips parting as he watches you. He keeps circling a thumb over your clit but fans the rest of his fingers out, holding your hip more securely. You hardly have time to think before you squeak in surprise, gasping as he begins rutting his hips up into you, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot at a dizzying speed.
“O-Oh, shit!” You huff, eyes wide and wild, “Michael, Mikey, I –” You cut yourself off with a loud cry, too loud given the circumstances, but your brain whites out the second he reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, not tightly enough to choke you but enough to hold you steady above him.
“Y’close, love?” He pants, smirking when you quickly nod, “Fucking cum with me, princess, shit, you fucking deserve it.” He hisses through clenched teeth.
All you can do is obey, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders as your high finally washes over you. You freeze, tensing up above him as you cry out, uncaring for the party below as your cunt clenches tightly around his length, rhythmically milking him.
“Shit, shit, fuck,” he grunts beneath you, eyes rolling back as he feels your walls contracting around his cock, drawing his own high from him as well, “Good girl, good girl.” He praises before finally cumming with a snarl. You whimper when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his thick spend.
The two of you lay panting for a while, neither of you wanting to get up or break the spell of the safe little bubble you seem to be stuck in as you lazily press kisses against whatever bits of skin you can reach.
Eventually, the sound of holiday music seems to float up to you from downstairs, along with the sounds of laughter and loud conversation. In the background, you can just barely make out the sound of wrapping paper tearing and taped boxes being pulled open.
“Sounds like it’s time for gifts,” you muse, tracing shapes on Michael’s chest as he holds you to him, softening length still buried within you, “You wanna join them again?”
He hums softly and shakes his head no with a small smile before tilting his head to look at you, his glasses sitting slightly crooked on his nose as he studies your flushed face. One hand rubs soothingly over your back as he holds you tightly to him, relishing the way your soft skin feels against him.
“Don’t need any gifts from those entitled idiots,” he laughs softly and leans down just enough to press a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead, “I have the most perfect gift right here with me already.”
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#michael gavey#michael gavey x reader#michael gavey x you#michael gavey fanfiction#michael gavey fanfic#michael gavey smut#saltburn#saltburn fanfiction#saltburn fanfic#saltburn smut#fanfiction#fanfic#smut#my writing#12 days of smuff
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Kikaaaa im really in love with your writing 😭✊🏻
Could I please ask for a Lando short fic?
I was thinking about something in the scenario where the reader is a currently Redbull driver, but has known and been an opponent of Lando since the karting days. Despite them being rivals, they don't hate each other and are always making jokes with each other, about something that went wrong in the race or about the strategies the team made for them etc.
On this specific day the reader was a little more upset with her result in the race and when Lando comes to make a joke about it she gets really angry and Lando doesn't understand. The discussion ends up turning into provocations about the reader's sex life and they end up in bed, to relieve the sexual tension they built up during the day.
I would be forever grateful if you wrote something about this 🫶🏻✨
Warnings: Angst, smut, 18+, sexual tension, praise
Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader
A/N - chat this request just jumped the queue of my other 12 because oh my word, I’ve never read a request that makes me feel so good. LIKE CHAT??? First and last lines had me in love <3 it’s not short coz I can’t make it short with all the detail
“That’s P2, well done Y/N,” your engineer said on the radio as you smiled. “Who’s third?” you were already aware your team mate, Max, would be first. “Norris in third,”. Your smile grew even more - though you’d been competing against Lando from a very young age, but the bond between the two of you was unbreakable. Not as in friends, you were friends, but not close.
You drove into the pits, thanking the team as usual as you drove into your second place spot, seeing the orange car on the other side of the Max’s. “Nice job, Y/N,” Max shook your hand as you stepped out the car. “Cheers,”. You were distracted by the voice of Lando, waving to you from where his team were standing. “Nice one Y/L/N,” he said, lock-in your sides as you avoided his finger.
“Thanks, Norris,” you said, emphasising his surname, as he sighed, “another result ahead of me,” he sighed dramatically. “Can’t help I’m just better,” you shrugged as Lando rolled his eyes, watching you take the microphone for the interview, poking your tongue out at him. That’s how your friendship worked - constant teasing between each other.
“For fucks’ sake,” you groaned, watching as the cars raced past you, the smoke fogging from your engine. You’d been so close to winning the Grand Prix and there it went, an engine failure, wow. “Y/N, retire the car, please,” your engineer said. “Fuck!” you groaned, pulling into the pit lane, driving into the garage. You’d been on a streak of getting podiums since the start of the season, and now, there it went, your win and your podium.
You stayed in the garage to watch the race, Max in first, followed by Lando, then Oscar. “C’mon,” one of the engineers tugged your arm to stand under the podium and watch the celebrations. “Bad luck, Y/N, sorry,” Max said, shaking your hand as you nodded. And then, Lando came. “Aww, someone crashed?” he raised an eyebrow. Usually, you’d be okay with it, but being so close to a race win?
It hurt. “Well fuck you,” you put on a sarcastic smile, ignoring the hand he’d put out to shake. “Alright then,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “someone’s in a mood,”. You rolled your eyes at his words, turning, ignoring him pointedly, and watching the podium. As you walked back of the garage, to mull over your result and what you did wrong (even though you did nothing), you felt a tap on your shoulder.
“Y/N,” a voice said, stern and cold, from behind you. You turned around, raising an eyebrow to Lando. He was covered in champagne, his eyes half narrowed. “I thought I said fuck off,” you said, without really thinking about it, rolling your eyes. “Yeah? Well I don’t wanna,” Lando said, making you stop where you were walking.
“What do you want, Lando?” you paused. “To know why you’re having a goddamn tantrum over one DNF?”. That made you scoff, he clearly didn’t understand how you felt. “Lando, I was so close to a win, and it wasn’t even my fault!” you snapped, crossing your arms. “Guess you and your engine have something in common, you both blow up at random fucking points!” his tone was harsh and disgusted.
“Cheers, Lando,” you scoffed, turning away. “Why did you have to yell at me? We make jokes like that every time. You did last time, too!” he snapped, his price way too high than to just accept it. You said nothing, watching his outburst. “Oh yeah, sorry I interrupted your little eye fucking session with Max,” Lando spoke sarcastically, making your ears perk up.
“Excuse me?” you snapped, hands on your hips. “Oh, so you reply when Max is involved? Yeah, Y/N, all you two do is eye fuck in the cool-down room, I hate being there with you lot,” he said, venom in his voice as you paused. “Seriously, Lando? You sound desperate,” you laughed sarcastically. “Desperate? Really?” he snorted, “You’re out here looking like the desperate slut with those ridiculous little puppy eyes you pull on him,”.
You’d never heard anything to stupid, but your attention focused on one word. “A slut? Really?” you scoffed, “You go round fucking whatever girl looks remotely pretty, every single decently attractive girl will end up in your bed for one night, then they’ll be out,” you spat. “You’re such a prude, god, Y/N,” he rolled his eyes, “and ‘every’ attractive girl?” he laughed at your words, the disgust poorly concealed.
“Good job, your ears word,” you jeered, flicking your hair back over his shoulder. “You know that’s not true, Y/N,” he raised his eyebrow. His tone changed momentarily, but it went back to normal. “What?” you asked, bemused at his words. “Haven’t seen you in there, so it’s not every attractive girl, is it?” Lando’s words were quiet, but carried a certain level of power.
You brushed off his comment, not wanting to give it anymore attention than it deserved. “Your point?” you asked, eyebrow raised at his words. “My point is that I’m not the whore, you are,”. Shaking your head, you turned back away from him, walking towards your motor home. “Seriously? You’re just gonna walk off?” he scoffed, following you into the room.
Lando had never been in my room, before, we didn’t maintain that kind of friendship. It was a surprise to me as well as Jim, but I said nothing. “You’re not getting me in your bed, Norris,” you shrugged, taking your Red Bull hat off, along with your coat. “You’re the one undressing,” Lando commented under his breath. “I’m hot,” you said, like it was obvious, which it was, the heat of Spain hitting hard.
“I know you’re hot,” he said, eyebrow raised as his eyes roamed over your body, lingering on your chest. His comments were getting really flirtatious now. “What are you trying to do?” you turned to him, a suspicious look on your face. You watched as he stood a step forwards, a few inches away from you. “Nothing,” Lando took another step forwards, your body pressing against the door.
“Did you know,” he said, eyes dropping momentarily to your chest, “sex is good for stress?”. You did know that, obviously. “You look stressed,” he pointed out, making you pause. “D’you want me to get Max?” he cooed innocently. “Wow, Norris, I don’t know if you’re just stupid, but you’re not Max,” you rolled your eyes, “I don’t want Max,”.
“Right, so what driver then?’ Lando scoffed, his face centimetres from yours. “Oh, I dunno,” you said sarcastically, maybe you?”. The way he froze made a smirk flicker onto your face before it fell as he leaned forwards. “You want me?” he asked slowly, blinking at you, his eyes wide. “I believe I just said that,” you shrugged, eyes rolling.
Lando’s lip curled at your eye roll, his face leaning closer to yours. “Better behave or I’m gonna make them roll for another reason,”. Your cheeks flushed at his words, your eyes wide as his lips bit down on the skin of your neck, your eyes wide. “Lando,” you gasped, his hands tugging at your shirt, breaking off of you to take it off.
“Wanted to do this for so long,” he ran his lips over your jaw as he pulled your baggy trousers down. “Oh fuck,” you moaned as he pushed your knees apart, your legs over his shoulders as he held you against the wall, his tongue against your clothed clit. “Lando,” you mewled, eyes wide as he flicked his tongue, your hand tugging at his curls.
Lando had been picturing this for so long, his head buried between your legs, licking at your sweet goodness, your hands tugging at his hair. Fuck, if he could see this from third person, he’d cum just like that. You rolled your hips softly against his mouth, his tongue pushed your drenched panties to the side. “Someone desperate?” he pulled back, a whine leaving your lips.
“Lando,” you tugged at his curls as he looked at you, standing up fully, his body the same height as you, due to how he was carrying you. “You’re gonna be patient for me,” he said, hand running through your hair, “and you’re gonna be good,”. You nodded, eyes wide as he lifted you onto your bed, your legs slung over his shoulders still.
As he moved you, his finger slid against your wet folds, his thumb toying at your clit, as he pulled inside of you. “Lando, fuck!” you moaned, eyes wide before squeezing shut, your hand instinctively tugging at the waist band of his joggers. “Someone’s needy,” he commented, letting you take his joggers down, his cock springing against his abdomen.
His other hand wrapped around yours, pumping your hand up and down him as he groaned, your body squirming from his fingers. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Lando smirked, your back arching for a second as you wriggled, his fingers pumping in and out, fully. “Open,” he said, his large hand on the back of your head, your lips parting a bit. “Really, Y/N?” Lando raised an eyebrow.
“You know won’t fit,” he commented, hand pumping his own cock as you complied, opening further. Instantly, you felt his cock hit the back of your throat, before he fully pulled out, letting you dictate how far in he went. Your hand pumped the parts of his length that you couldn’t reach, his throbbing head hitting the back of your throat as you gagged, Lando’s other hand with his fingers still deep in you.
“Fuck,” he pulled you off, he would cum merely at seeing your pretty little mouth struggling with his length. He lifted you onto his lap, lifting your thighs up, so he could align his throbbing dick with your folds. You whispered as he ran his dick through your folds a few times, before pushing into you slowly, your muscles tensing.
“That’s it,” Lando cooed, one hand holding you up as he sank you down, the other cupping your cheek. “Open,” he said, your mouth falling open instantly. You flinched as he spat into your mouth, pressing his thumb to your tongue as you gagged slightly, resting your body weight on him. Lando turned you over, your body against his, legs round his hips as he slowly pushed into you, and then out again, before he quickened his pace.
Your mouth fell open at his ever quickening speed, his hips slamming into you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other cupping your breasts as you tightened your arm round his neck, your head on his shoulder. “Lando, fuck feels s’good,” you moaned, body rocking quickly at his rough movements.
“Been wanting to fuck you for ages,” he groaned, feeling your nails sink into his backs, clawing desperately, as if scratching would give you your orgasm, “look so pretty taking my cock baby,”. You loved the way he spoke, his words dirty, but his tone soft, so opposing to his rough slams. You felt the knot in your stomach building up at his words, your eyes rolling softly. “Told you I’d make them roll,” he smirked, grinning at you, “look pretty like that,”
The knot in your stomach came undone as you sank your nails into his bare back, his chain dangling on your lips as his hips stuttered, his cheeks flushed red. “Gonna cum in you,” he said gruffly, hips jittering as his slams became messier and messier. “God, fuck,” he groaned, his cum pooling in you, the thick toped ropes hitting your insides as you moaned. “Mmm, fuck me, Lando,” the words came out, not even paying attention to what you were saying.
“Just did,” he said, sitting up, your body slumped on his. “So fucking tight,” he groaned, holding your body as he pulled out, your pussy clenching round him as he did so. “Fuck, baby, you gotta let me go,” Lando chuckled, pulling you off of him fully. “That’s what you get for a DNF,” he snorted as you watched him, panting from your recent orgasm, “let’s see what happens when you win, love,”.
#lando norris#lando norris imagine#lando norris x you#f1#lando norris smut#lando x reader#lando norris x reader
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I think this is it.
Aight, thank you. Here's my request: So Pro-hero Bakugou has a husband (reader) and a son who didn't inherit his quirk. Instead, he got m readers' "weak" healing quirk. The kid hates/dislikes reader for getting his "useless" quirk instead. Meek reader doesn't want tell Bakugou that the son has a crappy teen ego, but Bakugou comes home early to see son berating reader. And Bakugo just scolds the son and explains why the the healing quirk is useful and how reader is amazing. Its a bit angsty, but can we have some fluff comfort at the end pls? Thank you again. :)
I got this
🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐
One thing no one in U.A expected was for Bakugo to get with Recovery girls grandson, the Omegas quirk being "healing aura" the ability to create a healing must up to 12 feet.
The two teens didn't get along initially, Bakugo crass and rude and (name) very much no nonsense and stubborn, the two constantly butted heads during their stay at U.A.
It was a surprise towards the end of their high school career for the two to move in together with an upcoming engagement "when did they even start dating?" Some would ask only to realize those arguments and comments were actually the two flirting.
(Name) ended up much like his grandmother and travelling agency to agency and helping out post villain attacks and doing what he could, gaining adoration and fans through how much he helped.
They almost forgot he was an Omega till he went on maternity leave.
(Sons name) was very much like Katsuki, a spitfire who had many little options and though Katsuki calmed down considerably there was no denying they were practically clones.
And because of this, it devastated (sons name) when he didn't get his sires "heroic" quirk but instead got (name)s quirk, the boy over time developing a resentment to his Dam.
Due to (name) only being called for emergencies, he ended up taking his late grandmother's place at U.As Medical wing.
And because of these hours, he was often left to care for his son alone while Katsuki did hero work, and because of this missed his son developing into a mythic asshole.
(Name) was exhausted after work, needing to use his quirk a lot today along with quirkless medical practice as many students didn't need his quirk but a simple bandage and such.
The house was a mess, whenever (sons name) came home he always made a mess, deeming it "Omega work" as the teen scrolled his phone "arent you supposed to be studying for the written exam?"
"Why should I? Dad got me in on recommendation, thank god since all you gave me was a shitty quirk" the teen snapped and (name) looked absolutely heartbroken at this as the teen continued "thank god dad's been teaching me martial arts since it's so useless-- seriously why did I have to get stuck with something as useless as your quirk, I'm amazed dad settled for someone as useless as you"
"The fuck you say?" The two turned to see Katsuki Bakugo walk in, out of uniform after finishing work at his agency "d-dad..." (sons name) looked sick and (name) on the verge of tears "your dad's "useless quirk" literally saved countless lives and your dad hauled ass saving countless People from villains" his voice cold as he dropped his duffle bag "why's the house a mess? You not fucking helping your Dam? I know he just got home so I know this ain't his mess" he laughed without any humor "disrespectful little shit, get up and clean this mess, after we train and get ready because it's gonna be hell" Katsuki promised coldly and the teen got up not wanting to piss off his dad more as the pro led (name) to their room.
"How long?" He said pulling the exhausted Omega into his lap, only soft for his mate "honestly since he found out his quirk, it's just been coming out the past few months..." Katsuki was shocked at this, how did he miss this?! "Why didn't you say anything?"
"... You were busy... You were working so hard on building your agency and I wanted to lift some weight off your shoulders" he wanted to cry as his husband held him close "stop being stupid" his voice loving despite the harsh words "I'll whip I'm straight, rely on me idiot"
(Name) was left to relax in the bedroom as Bakugo handled his son, calling a few hero friends to help especially the teens uncle Izuku and uncle Aizawa-- the teen spending his break at his uncle Aizawas and subsequently with uncle Shinsou who was visiting.
By the written exam he was kicked into shape and Bakugo made sure his mate was reminded over and over again how loved he was.
#omega male reader#omegaverse#male reader#bnha x male reader#bnha x reader#mha x male reader#mha x reader#bakugo katuski x reader#bakugo katsuki x male reader#bakugo x male reader
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“What surprise awaits me today?” Hero leans against the bars of Villain’s cell, smiling. It’s their daily ritual, something Villain hates to admit they always look forward to. Hero is kind to them.
“You have such high expectations of me. You guilt me delivering them.”
“And you never disappoint.” Hero drops their head to meet Villain’s eyes from outside the cell. Villain smirks like they’re sharing a secret.
They hate that this is the happiest they’ve ever been—behind bars, swooning at the attention of the hero who put them there.
Villain retreats to a small desk in the corner of their cell. It’s littered with graphite drawings, a privilege granted for ‘good behavior.’ Villain scoffs at the irony, but decides not to challenge it.
They return to the bars, slipping a choice drawing through. Their fingers brush against Hero’s as the drawing is passed along. It’s calculated, Villain knows it. Just like the visits—a prescription to keep them from going off the rails and trying to escape. Villain swallows the medicine.
“Beautiful. As always.” It’s a landscape. A recreation of something they sketched years earlier. Hero seems pleased.
Emboldened by their reaction, Villain tests, “When do I get a surprise from you?”
Hero is nothing if not generous. They play along. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?”
“Give me a hint?” Villain sets a hand on the bar, They shift their weight so the motion is hidden from a security camera in the corner.
Hero isn’t phased by the gesture. “What would you want from me anyways?”
“Hm…” Villain trails. “Something genuine. Something beautiful. That’s what my art is to you, isn’t it? You should return the favor one of these days.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
For a moment, Hero’s hand finds Villain’s against the metal cell before they leave. Villain knows their routine by heart. They know Hero will never return their affections unless they need information or expertise out of them. But they’re content to play along, bask in a bit of that attention.
Villain believes Hero is kind. But at night, Villain does everything to squash the fractional piece of their heart that believes Hero cares for them.
Hero appears outside Villain’s cell late one afternoon.
“Where’ve you been?” Villain asks, approaching the bars. “It’s nearly dark. I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.” They keep their voice light, agreeable.
“I’d never. I just needed to prepare something.”
Villain crosses their arms. “And do I get to know what that is?”
Hero is beaming. “Of course. I tell you all my secrets.” Liar. “Come here.”
Villain indulges them and steps forward. Before they know it, Hero grips their arms and pulls them close. They embrace through the bars of the cell. Villain’s stomach plunges and their eyes dart towards the security camera.
“What are you—“
“I’m looping the footage. We should have about five minutes before it goes back to normal.”
Villain focuses on Hero. “Are you crazy? What the fuck are you—“
“You wanted a surprise,” Hero interrupts. They grip Villain’s side, steadying them. “How’s this for one?”
Hero’s lips crash against Villain’s before they can comprehend the fingers lacing through their hair. They can’t believe this is happening. They give into the desire they’ve been fighting since their first battle with Hero.
They part slowly. Villain keeps their gaze low. “Why did you do that?” They mutter.
“I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while.”
Rationally, Villain knows it’s not the best idea to trust a hero. “We’re enemies. You put me in prison.”
Hero grins. “But, you have to admit. Now we get to see each other more often!”
Despite everything, Villain can’t deny the gesture. “You’re insane.”
“You know, we still have four minutes. Care to do it again?” With a nod from Villain, Hero takes the lead and connects their lips again.
Villain supposes they can figure out what this means for their relationship tomorrow.
—
snippet #12
#hero x villain#hero x villan#heroes#heroes and villains#heroes x villains#spilled ink#villain x hero#villains#writeblr#writers on tumblr#hero x villain community#fluff#heroxvillain#villains and heroes#villain and hero
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A Doe in Fall (Part 9)
⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things 📍 Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie
Part 9 - Shiny Things
Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.
「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」
Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!
🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.
this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop
It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman.
“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm.
“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”
Charming.
“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.
An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”
“Why would I have more than one bed?”
A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”
The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her?
The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.
How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.
“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?
Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.
“No.”
A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”
You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.
An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction.
Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that.
“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.
She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”
Right.
A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock.
“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”
Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”
You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her.
“Love” her.
There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.
Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.
Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself.
Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.
You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move.
Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door.
A random memory flashed behind your eyes, washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value.
“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”
Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”
Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?
“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”
“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”
The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response.
“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.”
“Oh hey!”
You turned back.
“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”
The numbness blanketed you with a chill.
“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”
Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers.
She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.
An open palm waiting for your money.
You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin.
“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.
“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”
A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up.
A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”
You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back.
She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.
“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.
You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off.
“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”
She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.
“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms.
An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”
Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.
“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”
Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”
She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”
“Clever.” “Handsome.”
You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.
“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.”
“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.
“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”
“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”
Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”
With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”
Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?
“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”
You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.
Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners.
“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”
That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.
You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”
“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!”
“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”
“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth.
But, Yes.
Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.
Or, fine.
Yes, he was a man.
No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.
When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before.
Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him.
A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.
“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.
The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”
“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”
Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.
“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”
You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.
You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”
“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”
As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love?
And did that matter at all?
You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words.
Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours.
A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.
Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”
He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant.
“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.
Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens?
When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?
No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.
You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.
He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely.
The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge.
“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”
You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”
Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”
Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe.
“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.
“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”
“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.
“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.
“Further.”
“How far?”
“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession.
The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”
“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”
You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful.
A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others.
The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.
“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”
Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust.
If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.
Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him.
Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below.
But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough.
He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:・
˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖12:43 a.m. (m) — choi yeonjun
genre: smսt (minors/ageless blogs dni), angst for flavor, fluff, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption (so somewhat tipsy sex warning!!), this has more plot and is much longer than i initially expected but it is still very self-indulgent LOL
wc: 2.9k
“you should talk to him.”
the sound of beomgyu's voice a concerningly close distance from your ear causes you to flinch, a bit of the drink in your hand sloshing over the side of the can and onto the already sticky floor. tearing your eyes away from yeonjun, you meet beomgyu's half-lidded gaze; he's drunk, painfully so — and a drunk beomgyu means a considerably more irritating beomgyu.
“why are you over here?” you say, waving your drink around the dark corner of the living room that you staked claim on earlier in the night after chaewon had bailed on you. “shouldn’t you be, like, making out with someone by now?”
“well, you looked miserable, so i decided to be a good friend ‘n come check on you first,” he grins, stumbling when he tries to lean closer and bar you from staring at the man across the room. with a huff, you shove him away and help situate himself against the wall next to you.
“my hero,” you deadpan, blocking out whatever half-baked words beomgyu spews out next in favor of watching yeonjun, your lips pursing as he laughs along with the group of guys surrounding him.
you must admit, he looks...amazing tonight. a light grey tank top allows you a perfect view of his muscle-thickened arms. loose-fitting jeans lay low on his hips, and you catch a peak of his toned stomach and the band of his boxers when he lifts a hand to high-five someone. the self-assured smirk on his lips has not left since you first spotted him. it's almost infuriating; you wonder how he seems so okay, uncaring, after what happened, while your life has all but fallen apart without his presence. you never knew how losing a close friend — okay, a close friend who you have not-so-platonic feelings for — could be so harrowing. until now. the urge to cry and run away battles with the gnawing impulse to stomp up to him and yell straight into his stupid fucking face. you bite the inside of your cheek.
the boy next to you flicks your forehead. “quit staring like a creep and go to talk to him.”
“um, no. i’m pretty sure he hates me now,” you reply, finally looking over at him. “we haven’t talked since last week.”
“since the incident,” beomgyu adds, nodding sagely, before he takes another large swig of the suspiciously bright green liquid in his cup. slouching further against the wall, you shoot him a scalding glare. in response, he simply laughs, the sound squeaky and borderline grating, as leans his head against your shoulder.
it's quiet between the two of you for a few minutes, in which you stare at the small dents that have appeared on the can in your hand due to your unrelenting grip. you can feel the effects of the two drinks you have consumed beginning to kick in: your mind is a little less cluttered, your muscles releasing their built-up tension as warmth flows through your veins. you're still acutely aware of your surroundings — you are not as far-gone as beomgyu, that's for sure — but your situation does feel slightly less dire now that a bit of alcohol flows through your system.
“uh oh,” beomgyu mumbles over the music, leaning up to bring his mouth closer to your ear. “look who’s comin’ over.” glancing up, you find the very person you would rather not speak to making a beeline straight towards the two of you. the carefree expression he sported prior is long gone, replaced with furrowed brows and downturned lips.
you sober up immediately. panicking, you shove beomgyu off of you, ignoring the quiet “oof!” he emits as collides with the wall. he scoffs. “what’re you doin’?”
“leaving,” you mutter, ignoring the slight blur to your vision as you push through the crowd toward the dimly lit hallway that you know contains a bathroom.
without even turning around, you can tell that yeonjun is hot on your trail. you pray that the bathroom is unoccupied — and when you reach it, you luckily find that it is. slipping past the door as quickly as you can, aiming to slam the door and lock it, but a foot shoves it way past the jamb before you can fully execute your plan. you curse under your breath as yeonjun shoves his way inside, clicking the door shut behind him.
for a moment, you and him stare wordlessly at each other. in this light, you are able to see the light flush across his cheekbones from the alcohol, the dark roots of his hair that have grown out since you helped him dye it a couple weeks ago. being confronted by him in this manner makes both your heart ache and your blood boil.
“why are you here?” you spit, breaking the suffocating silence. his blank expression does not falter despite your venom-drenched tone. instead, he crosses his arms in front of him, his biceps bulging, and props himself against the wall across the counter that you presently lean on.
“why was beomgyu so close to you?” he does not answer your question, rather asks one of his own, a slight slur to his words. red tinges the edge of your vision at his blatant disregard of your query. it’s none of his business, not after what he did.
“i don’t think that really concerns you,” you decide to say. “why the fuck do you care, anyway?”
“you know why,” he prods, and the dull ache in your chest grows thorns, puncturing your lungs. your nails dig into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself. he seems to notice.
“no, actually i don’t, yeonjun.” yeonjun. it’s his name, but it is scathing coming from your lips. jjun, jjunie, anything but yeonjun. please. “please, enlighten me as to why you care if my friend is touching me.”
“because i want it to be me instead.”
the dam holding your feelings back explodes.
“you want it to be you, huh?” you laugh humorlessly. “you kiss me, eat me out, fall asleep next to me, then what? throw our it all in the trash? act like i don’t exist? real fucking funny, yeonjun. what a great way to treat one of your closest friends.”
he gapes at you, silent, while you wait for him to say something, anything. taking his lack of response as your cue to leave, you reach for the doorknob, only for his hand to envelop yours. his warm chest collides with your cheek, and his arms wrap around your waist. he buries his nose into the crown of your head.
“i’m sorry,” you hear him murmur, his arms curling around you tighter, and you can’t find it within yourself to break away from his grip. “i was so fucking terrified that you thought that what happened last night was a mistake. that i would lose you forever, i,” his breath stutters in his chest. you feel it against your skin. “i don’t want to lose you. you mean too much to me for that to happen.”
you push away from his chest, finding nothing but sincerity shining in his umber eyes. “why couldn’t you have just talked to me?” your next sentence tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. “don’t you know how long i’ve loved you?”
the gape of his mouth makes your heart race. you feel as if you have confessed something that you should not have. and yet you push forward. “yes, love. how could i ever possibly think that that was a mistake when it’s always ever been you?”
it takes him a few seconds to process your words, and you watch as his expression morphs from confused, to shocked, to...wait, is he smiling?
“can i kiss you?” he asks. the air vacates you lungs at the hopeful quirk of his lips. your resolve breaks and you allow a small nod. that’s all it takes for him to surge forward and his lips to envelope yours. it feels intrinsically different from the kisses you shared last week — no longer fueled by drunken lust and raging hormones, no teeth knocking against each other, and no sense of urgency. slow, soft, he takes his time in savoring the way you taste of your favorite lip balm mixed with the seltzer you had finished off before you tried to escape from him. gentle hands rub soothing circles against your waist while you pull him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck.
he pulls away. “i love you.” kiss. “i love you.” kiss. “i love you.”
the movement of your lips against each other grows increasingly aggressive as you continue. needy, wanting to feel each and every contour, savor every breath each other emits. he breaks away again to kiss down your neck. when you whine, the energy in the room shifts. silently, he urges you up onto the counter, your legs dangling off the edge as he slips his body between your thighs. he finds your lips once more. his hands rest upon your hips, squeezing every so often. this time, you're the one to stop him with a gentle push to his chest.
“wait,” you say as he whines and tries to pull you in again. your fingers splay across his broad chest. you nearly gulp at the sight before you’re shaking the thought away. “you’ve been drinking. i don’t want—”
“baby, i’m fine,” he interrupts. your heart flutters at the pet name. “i wanted to be able to talk to you tonight, so i had, maybe, three drinks? i’m tipsy at most — do i seem drunk? do you feel drunk? we can stop.”
“well, no, you don’t. and i drank less than you,” you admit. “i’d like to keep going...i’m just worried, um, after last time. i don’t want this to be another fluke.” your voice grows incredibly smaller as you speak, trailing off at the very end as you realize how stupid you must sound.
“baby, look at me,” he says, cupping your face. there’s a little haze in his gaze, but the sincerity in his pupils is as clear as day. you know that you look the exact same. “this will never, and i mean never, happen again. you’re mine, and i am yours. if you think i was attached to your hip before, you’re never gonna get rid of me now.”
you giggle at his joking tone, your body the lightest it’s been all night, and you reach down to guide his hands to your thighs. “then make me feel good, jjunie.”
his goofy smile turns sharp at the edges at your words, his fingers digging into your flesh as he leans down to nip and suck at the skin of your neck, your collarbones, his lips trailing down to the valley of your breasts. hands slide underneath your shirt, and you tug at his hair as he slips it off of you, making quick work of your bra. he guides the straps down your arms and off completely, leaving you bare from the waist up. he stares in awe, capturing your hands before you can cover yourself.
“so fucking pretty,” he mumbles, pressing a gentle peck against your wrist. “wanna make you feel good forever.”
“that’s a long time— oh, fuck!” you cut yourself off when his plush lips wrap around one of your nipples, playing with the bud as it pebbles beneath his tongue. he hums, and shockwaves travel straight down to your core. he switches to the other tit, his thumb circling the one that he left.
“jjun,” you moan despite his unrelenting ministrations to your breasts. “fuck me, please.”
he stands up at his full height, peering down at your desperate, needy expression with slight amusement. “yeah? you want my cock?”
“so bad,” you whisper, kiss bruised lips smeared with lipstick and spit. “please?”
he groans. “you drive me crazy.”
he falls to his knees in front of you, helping you remove your shorts and panties. a shaky exhale falls from his mouth when he sees just how soaked you are. a finger slides through your folds, collecting your wetness before bringing to his tongue. he visibly shudders.
“know you want me to fuck you, but i need to taste you first,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you before he dives in with an enthusiasm that is akin to whenever he dances, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking, hands holding open your thighs as you whimper and try to close them around his head. he’s desperate to make you cum, to bring you a level of pleasure that you’ve never experienced before. it doesn’t take you long to fall over the edge, but he does not let up until you begin to push his head away from your center.
“okay, okay,” he laughs as he stands again, taking his tank top off in the process. you gape at the sight, the hard planes of his chest, his defined biceps. it makes you wonder just how strong he is, how he could throw you around and have his way with you — another time. another time.
you reach down to palm him through his jeans, eliciting a whine from him. unbuttoning and unzipping, he helps your shove both his jeans and boxers down until his pretty, pink-tipped cock slaps against his abdomen, achingly hard and sensitive. your fingers immediately wrap around it and begin to stroke up and down, thumb collecting the precum that has collected at the tip. he bucks in your hand once before he's grabbing your hand.
condom?” he asks, and you shake your head, telling him about your birth control. he makes sure with you once again before he leans in to kiss you again, the head of his cock sliding through your folds, sliding against your throbbing clit. finally — finally — he lines up with your soaked entrance. “ready, love?”
humming, you roll your hips forward, and he hisses out a quiet "so impatient," before his hips slowly push forward, stretching your walls as you adjust to the intrusion. both of you moan at the feeling, hands flying everywhere to feel each other. he takes it slow at first, the rolling of his hips into you rhythmic and gentle — but you crave more, need him to fuck you like he means it, to take all that you're giving him and returning just as much to you.
“faster, harder, jjunie,” you pant against his lips. “wanna feel you deeper.”
“god, fuck,” he curses, your dirty words spurring him on. “don’t fuckin’, ngh, talk like that. gonna make me cum.”
his gaze grows hazy as he thrusts into you, your own eyes glazed over, both of you overwhelmed by the sensation of your walls snugly wrapped around him and him stretching you so perfectly. the pretty flush that was once contained to his cheeks has spread out across the rest of his face and down his neck, locks of his dusty rose-orange hair sticking to his forehead. you cup his cheeks and bring your foreheads together. he watches as your eyes roll back into your head after a certain thrust, so he angles his hips to press into that spot again. and again. and again. your cute little whines and moans of his name motivate him to maintain that pace.
“yeah? right there?” he queries, already knowing the answer. “so fucking cute, baby. this pussy was made for me, hm? all mine?”
“a-all yours!” you parrot, the words feeding into your dizzy state. the tendrils of an orgasm begin to wrap around you, your legs beginning to quake. you reach down to play with your clit. desperation laces your next words. “gonna cum, jjunie! please make me cum!”
he's groaning at the sight of you falling apart when your second high of the night hits. a string of curses tumbles from his mouth as his thrusts grow sloppy, his hips slapping hard against the inside of your thighs. he thrusts once, twice more before he spills inside you with a high-pitched whine, burying his head in the junction between your neck and shoulder as he holds you close to him.
“my baby,” he whispers tenderly with a quick peck to your lips when you finally come down. you chase his lips for a longer one, and he concedes easily to your silent demand. you’re smiling like fools at each other as you pull away. “never gonna let you go.”
“my jjunie,” you coo back, holding his face between your palms. you lean in to capture his lips again when a knock startles both of you. you scramble for your crumpled clothes on the floor — until you realize exactly who it is on the other side.
“are the two of you done fucking?” beomgyu’s distinct voice calls. “i need to puke.”
“way to ruin the moment,” yeonjun grumbles, and you chuckle, wiping off the stray lipstick on your face before you’re turning to him, legs still a bit shaky.
“i guess we should help him?” you say.
squeezing your waist, he pulls you closer with a sly grin. “nah, he can manage. i have my lovely little girlfriend to take care of.”
masterlist
© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.
#txt smut#yeonjun smut#txt x reader#yeonjun x reader#txt imagines#txt drabbles#yeonjun drabbles#yeonjun imagines#txt hard thoughts#txt hard hours#agust.nsfw#💌 — jjun
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Day 12|strap-ons
Character: Hazel Callahan x fem!reader
Tags: strap-on use, praise,
A/n: i love this little queer woman right here
kinktober masterlist
Where did you get that thing?” a grin rose to your face, eyes trailing across her body, noticing the hot pink silicone strapped against her pelvis. The ribbed fabric that indented her gym shorts remained in place as she swung the dildo around, giggling at its motion. “I found it at Spencers.” her hands pulled at the straps, beginning to pose in an attempt to make you laugh.
You had been at her house, watching old horror movies, when she suddenly hopped out of bed, using the explanation of “gotta piss.” and shocking you when she came back with that over her shorts.
“And you just…bought it?” flexing her arm in front of you, putting on a serious face, she replied, “Uh…yeah.”
“I mean, I was kinda hoping we could use it.” her voice turned raspy at the end of her sentence, voice quieting in embarrassment as she moved back to a regular standing position. “I wouldn't hate using it…especially since it's strapped to you.” your words made her eyes light up. “really? I mean we don't have to, not that I don't want to! I really, really want to.” your body lifted from her bed, Hazel walking closer to you, hands meeting your waist. the feeling of the silicone pressing against your thigh made you giggle, prompting Hazel to do the same.
A sigh left her lips after the fit of laughter, parting her lips to speak, “Can I kiss you? And while I still have self-control, can I touch you too?” you answer her question by kissing her, and clutching her hand to drag it down your torso. her hand grazed the hem of your dress, pulling it up slowly, distracted by the sweet taste of your lips. yet, her fingers were quick to pull your panties to the side, the swift movement feeling like whiplash. “This okay?” she mumbled between kisses, “Mhm.”
Her skilled fingers toyed with your clit, dragging your hand up to press it against her chest, as if it kept you grounded, kept you from floating away in pleasure.
“C’mere, let's get up on the bed. get on my lap, honey.” her voice hypnotized you, nodding at her, desperate to get her lips back on yours. your hips met her abdomen, “do you think you're ready?” you quickly nodded, grasping the cock in your hands and positioning yourself to slide down on it.
The sharp sting of fullness in your cunt made your hands fall against her shoulders, “Go on, baby. You're doing so good.” your hips sank onto the silicone cock, lips parting to let out the cutest whimper Hazel had ever heard. ”so good.” her eyes were transfixed on your tits bouncing in your dress, holding herself from the urge of kissing you again, just to stare at them.
“Oh fuck- right there.” her hands guided your hips down on the plastic cock, unknowingly grinding the base of it against her own clothed clit in the midst of your desperate pleasure. her thumb trailed itself down to your clit, rubbing circles, following your body as it pushed itself up and down. “you close? yeah? I can hear those pretty moans getting louder.” her voice sweet-talked you, bringing you closer to your impending climax. your hips began to rut down harder, grinding harder against her, causing a drawn out moan to leave her lips.
Your impending orgasm soon came to its peak, clasping onto Hazel's shoulders as you moaned into her ear, hitting the perfect angle on her clit, sending her spiraling into orgasm with you. you held each other, listening to the heavy breaths of one another, hazel pulling away to kiss your forehead.
Your body rolled off of hers, chest heaving while trying to catch your breath. “Thank you for buying this stupid piece of plastic, I had fun.”
“Thank you for letting me use that stupid piece of plastic on you, i had fun too.”
#hazel callahan#hazel callahan x reader#hazel callahan smut#hazel callahan fanfiction#bottoms 2023#x reader#smut#kinktober
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Celandine (c.b. one-shot)
𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “Princess” he said his voice cracking a bit and he led you to the bed, sitting and pulling you into his lap “I could never stop loving you. I would have to be warm and dead to stop loving you. Y’hear me? You, and little dude, are the only things in this world that matter t’me…and maybe the restaurant…but-“ he said, just to bring a tiny smile to your lips
♡ Chapter Inspo: Celandine - Cures depression, brings victory and joy. Serves as a protective ward when worn. Carry to increase self-confidence when facing adversaries. Use in ritual work when you feel trapped in undue negativity. ♡ Summary: You are feeling a bit blue about your body PP, Carmy takes it upon himself to show you just how beautiful you are! :) <3 ♡ W/C: 1.2K+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/27/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello! Happy day 2/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡ Here ♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! Here's another celebration ask on the books! This ask is from lovely @jesscolon529 I hope you enjoy, my darling! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Speaking of pregnancy, Fem/AFAB!reader, No use of y/n, feelings of self hate / insecurity, sad reader, comforting carmy, established relationship, not edited, Pics are just vibes, reader isn't described!! Established relationship
♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡
➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡
It had been 12 weeks since you’d delivered you and Carmy’s first baby, and your postpartum depression was in full effect. It really had not much to do with your baby, and everything to do with you. You felt gross after you delivered, you barely even wanted Carmy to look at you which he took like a stab in the heart.
When you came home, it wasn’t really different. Even though showering was…very painful, and you could really use the help and would appreciate that help very much - you couldn’t accept it. The idea of your husband seeing your naked body that you considered to be mangled and gross brought tears to your eyes. The idea of him watching blood run down the drain as you carefully rinsed your mangled bits he used to devour nearly every night made you want to throw up.
There was still a tiny part of you that believed he did this to you, so he shouldn’t be upset with the result - but somehow that just made you more angry because what if he was upset with how your body looked now, and just wasn’t saying anything? And how dare he not like your body after all you’ve done for him, for your family?!
You were stood in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom after you showered, observing yourself. You could have sex how, if you wanted. But you had convinced yourself you’d never let Carmy see you naked again in fear he would shriek and cover his eyes and run away, a bit dramatic - but still you couldn’t face the idea of your husband not loving you anymore because he saw what left you have to give after 9 months of hell.
You touch your now jiggly, wrinkly belly, pulling the skin back with your hands and sighing a bit, remembering how you used to look. Tears welled in your eyes, “you’re so fucking vain” you whispered in the mirror.
“Baby?” Carmy nudged the door open and you shout
“JESUS CHRIST!!! IM CHANGING! Shut the door Carmen!”
He jumps a bit at your sudden outburst, a frown coming to his features “why?” He asked and shut the door behind him. You quickly grabbed your shirt, sliding it over your head and pulling it out so it wouldn’t rest over your belly.
“Cause- cause I deserve privacy?” You snap, angry that he wasn’t just running away like you’d expected him - or wanted him to.
“Privacy? From…y’husband?” He comes over and rubs your arms gently “baby- are you gonna tell me wha’s up?” He asked.
Your lip wobbled, more tears coming to your eyes. You shook your head quickly and looked at the floor, squeezing your eyes shut and hot, thick, shameful tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m ruined now” you said, your voice watery and defeated.
“What?” He wiped your tears and hugged you, rubbing your back “baby what’s been goin on? You haven’t let me see you in months. I miss you, y’know that, right?” He kissed the top of your head as you sniffle in to his shirt
“I- I’m ugly now an-and wrinkly and covered in stretch marks and- and all…different down there. What if you stop loving me?” You burst into sobs. He could barely contain the lump growing in his own throat as he hushed you and rubbed soothing circles into your back.
“Princess” he said his voice cracking a bit and he led you to the bed, sitting and pulling you into his lap “I could never stop loving you. I would have to be warm and dead to stop loving you. Y’hear me? You, and little dude, are the only things in this world that matter t’me…and maybe the restaurant…but-“ he said, just to bring a tiny smile to your lips
“Mmm? See there’s that smile” he wipes your tears “what’s been bugging you baby, show me. I promise, I love every bit of you, I love you more every day- I still don’t know how that’s possible, but you make it work somehow” he teased and you blush, hiding your teary cheeks in the crook of his neck as he rubbed your back and side soothingly.
“You say that but what if you see me and you can’t help it” you sniffled a bit.
“Not possible honey” he countered. “Cmon- tell me. What’s been buggin you?”
“My belly. And - and my thighs are so big now. My belly is all…ugh. Wrinkly and has all these red marks on it. And my bellybutton looks all weird” you whine
“This belly?” He rubs his palm over it “the belly that kept our son all warm and happy n’safe till it was time f’him t’come home?” He asked and you huff
“Yes but..it’s not…normal anymore” you said and he hums in agreement.
“Y’right, it’s better, it’s new, it’s gonna take you some gettin’ used to- but I love it. Can I tell y’somethin and y’promise not t’be mad?” He asked and cuddled you into him more, kissing your cheek and hairline, wherever he could reach.
“Mm” you hummed, sniffling softly
“Your body now is the most beautiful it has ever been. Because it’s yours. It’s my wife’s body, my beautiful Mrs.Berzatto, it’s your belly, and your thighs, and your new different pussy you’re so afraid of” he said playfully in your ear to which you giggle a bit, cupping his cheek and looking at him with tear rimmed eyes.
“Y’not just lying to make me feel better?” You asked and he shook his head
“Nope- all the truth babygirl. Why would I lie t’my best girl mm? My only girl” he kissed your lips gently and rubbed your hip over.
“And - and you really like it?” You pouted
He raised his brows in the ‘are you fucking with me’ Carmy way, “want me to show you?” He asked and you felt heat in your cheeks, looking down shyly. “Okay-“ he laid you back on the bed carefully, pushing up your shirt. “I think-“ he starts kissing from your ribs, over your sternum, down, down, over your belly, making it a point to kiss each little dimple and mark
“I fed you and little boy sooo good while you were pregnant, so these? You can blame me. But I love them as selfish as it makes me” he kissed over your hips. “And these” he squeezed them with his hands “mmm fuck I looove these- I can’t wait to hold these while I’m fuckin’ you mm?” He traveled his hands up your waist, squeezing gently and continuing to ravish you in kisses.
“And these” he gently squeezed your breasts together in your nursing bra “are fucking amazing. And a literal life source for our boy. An’he’s growin so well. He’s in the 95th percentile, he’s so healthy, and chunky. Y’doin amazing babe.” He cups your cheeks.
“The most important thing though baby is you. You’re still my beautiful, kind, thoughtful wife. And I wouldn’t change anything about you, not a single fuckin’ thing, hear me?” He kisses you deeply.
You felt more tears running down your cheeks, but it wasn’t fear or sadness this time that brought them,
It was gratitude.
#Capri 200 follower celebration#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto blurb#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto smut#carmen berzatto x reader#Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader#Carmen Berzatto x you#carmen berzatto x female reader#Carmen Berzatto one shot#Carmen Berzatto drabble#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy berzatto fic#carmy berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto smut#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x fem reader#carmy berzatto x female reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto blurb#carmy berzatto x oc#the bear fx#the bear#the bear fic#the bear hulu#the bear fanfiction#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto fanfiction
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do we have any sick!trouble and luke taking care of everything for her??(including her hehe🤭) if not then i’d like to think she would probably try to push herself through the day making sure camp doesn’t get set on fire bc older sister core! + dionysus probably dgaf 🤷🏻♀️ and maybe only luke noticing that she’s breaking out in a cold sweat and her movements a little more sluggish than usual but shes stubborn af so she refuses to rest
🐥
also ur works are crushing me jo they’re soo good😭💗
🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥
luke castellan x dionysus!reader
a/n: no trouble tags fuck it we ball! no edits either lmfao fluff :) can be a standalone just know reader is camp mom and Luke calls her trouble/slight cabin 12 mentions but not important (partners in crime series if you wanna check it out)
wc: 860
Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen you be quiet.
Your voice is synonymous with the harmony of Camp Half-Blood in all of its forms: early morning announcements over the loudspeaker that serve as a wake-up call for campers to be ready for cabin inspections, hollow outcries to keep certain deviants in line (the Stolls and your brothers are a deadly force to be reckoned with), comforting words like kisses for scraped knees for the little ones, down to the gentle blanket of your singing at lights out. Luke also just knows by now that you love to have the last word—gods forbid someone else beat you at something you’re good at. Words always come easy when it comes to you (abilities of sons of Hermes aside) he finds out—but he can’t think of what can convince you to go back to bed today, especially with a temperature of 100.7 F.
He’s been circling you like a hawk this whole morning, not chastising (because clogged sinuses and all you’d probably fight him to your last breath), but rather helping out where he can. He swiftly double-checks counselor assignments once your puffy eyes leave the page, steers you away from walking straight into the fires of the forge instead of the exit at the armory, and waves off any bystanders who dare to get caught in the crosshairs of your bullheadedness.
In times like these, Luke’s almost grateful to be his father’s son (still a hard no, but you get the point). Doing these tasks undetected and mostly through a sleight of hand is better than worrying you even if he’s already at his wit's end; you’re quick in your own right too, body and brain separated today yet working on autopilot through a foggy sick-riddled mind. He hates leaving you like this even for a moment despite your protests of being able to handle yourself, but the two of you are spread thin today with all the work to do.
Luke finds you later after his workshop with your head against the cool stone of the climbing wall. You sniff into your sleeve, a wet sound stifled by the worn-down orange uniform you all wear, though yours looks as exhausted as you are, eyes closed and motionless even with lava slowly trickling from the top.
“Trouble? Are you okay babe? Grover fell off the wall already, you should… restart the mechanism,” he mutters, a big hand clasping at the nape of your neck like someone grabbing a kitten by its scruff.
“He’ll be fine, he’s a big boy,” you mumble with your face still attached to the rocks. “I’ve seen him climb over the Ares table for the last donut at lunchtime, molten lava and boulders should be a piece of cake.”
“At least cake is less painful and more delicious,” the satyr groans, hairs singed down to his hooves. Luke sighs, helping Grover back onto his feet for a well-deserved break.
“Babe…If you don’t move, sooner or later the lava’s gonna smother you.”
He shakes your arm since the controls are wedged between your body and the wall but it’s as if your body is bolted to the floor. A dissonant noise crawls out of your throat, “Dunno, kinda sounds nice. Maybe it’ll clear my sinuses.”
“Maybe it’s time to admit you’re sick.”
Even if he can’t see your face he knows there’s a scowl carved across it, “M’not sick. Just some allergies. I don’t get sick, Lu. Being sick is for the weak!” Lava continues to slide down the wall like molasses, inching you closer to a fate of fire— and your boyfriend watches you try to welcome it with weary arms.
“If you’re not sick, then I’m the best singer at Camp Half-Blood,” Luke drones as he crosses his arms. He can hear Percy laugh from the sidelines at that, silenced quickly by a glare.
“Now that would really clear her sinuses—even better if he dresses up for Theatrics again,” the son of Poseidon sniggers until a stray boulder comes barrelling towards where he and Grover are sitting. Everything’s suddenly less funny.
“It was one time, Jackson, and I wasn’t…” Luke sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Trouble was just mending a costume.”
“It’s okay Luke, not everyone can pull off a corset.”
“Grover, another word out of you man and I’ll make sure your legs are permanently hairless,” Luke grits, finally tired of the chit-chat and more focused on getting you to rest. In one quick movement, he sweeps you off your feet and over his shoulder while his other hand slams on the button to reset the gears of the climbing wall. A delayed reaction falters from your throat, something of a yelp and an exhale.
“Luke! Put me down!”
But he’s already off in the direction of Cabin 12 to get you settled under the covers for at least the rest of the day until you’re up and kicking again. Your protests are scratchy but loud as he takes you away from the two kids and it's as if everything is right in the world again.
“Remind me not to get a girlfriend that stubborn one day,” Percy mumbles, bumping shoulders with his best friend.
#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆。°✩#trouble!verse#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x dionysus!reader#percy jackon and the olympians#luke castellan fluff#made by ma1dita ♥︎
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