#I'm still not ready to leave all these characters behind I swear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

just-jordie-things · 7 months ago

Text

[part three] we weren't just friends - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 10.2k warnings: smut! oral (f!receiving), fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex, size kink (i think? yuuta's packin) praise kink, pet names (good girl, pretty girl, baby, slut is mentioned) overstimulation, soft sex summary: our two idiots may not know how to express their feelings through words, but they sure know how to find creative loopholes to solve that issue! more info: college!au so aged up characters!! roommates!au, childhood friends to lovers, the way i actuallly wrote smut for once and it's still mega softness

part three: "wish you'd let me stay, i'm ready now" ___

It wasn’t pleasant to wake up with a pounding skull.

Luckily what woke (y/n) up first was the rapping of knuckles on the door, hitting so hard it shook on it’s hinges. It was a brutal awakening, and once conscious she could still feel Mai’s rampant knocking in her head. With a groan, she burrowed her face into her pillow, attempting to block out all sound completely. Unfortunately, feathers and cotton weren't enough to do this.

“Could you stop with the banging?” A deep voice behind her groaned. She weakly made a noise of agreement.

The bed dipped and rose as the boy who’d shared it with her dragged himself out of his own comfortable bubble to go answer to the heavy knocking.

As he approached the door he could hear a faint, “Yuuta make her say sorry” whine from the lump of covers on his bed. He chuckled to himself as he swung the door open and hurried out of the room so he could close it behind him again.

Mai, still donned in the skin tight slip dress she’d worn to the bar last night, gave him a lopsided grin as he pulled the door shut.

“Wasn’t trying to intrude on your first morning after,” She teased, and gave Yuuta no time to defend himself before continuing, “But Maki’s outside, so I’m heading out”

Yuuta’s brow furrowed as he frowned at her.

“You could’ve texted me that,” He grumbled while she laughed and carried her purse and heels in one hand while traipsing her way to the door. “You didn’t have to wake up the whole building with your loudness”

“Apologies!” Mai giggled. “I just wanted to make sure you two would hear me in there!”

As she swings open the front door and wiggles her fingers back at him in a playful goodbye, she’s still giggling. Even when the door shuts again, he swears he can hear her cackling as she leaves the building.

He huffs, drags his hand over his face, and goes back into his room.

(y/n’s) curled up in a ball in the middle of the mattress. With the covers tangled around her so snug it’s hard to make out what’s her and what’s blanket. He chuckles, and there’s a little movement in the heap as she lifts her head.

“Did she say sorry?” (y/n) mumbles.

She’s turned towards him, but her eyes are closed, pinched shut to make sure no light penetrates them and sets her already frying headache on fire.

“She did,” Yuuta hums, sitting on the edge of the mattress and pushing her forehead gently back into the pillow. The force of his palm is tender, but he’s firm in guiding her back down. “She went home. Go back to sleep” He tells her softly.

(y/n) lazily swats his hand off of her head after she’s already laid back down.

“D’n’t tell me what to do” She grumbles into the pillow, already drifting back to sleep.

He chuckles at her, fixing up the blanket and tugging it to her chin. Despite her trying to suppress it, a soft smile tugs on her lips at the sweet act.

“You tuckin’ me into bed, Yuu?” She teases tiredly. He rolls his eyes affectionately. The giggle she lets out is muffled by the pillow.

“Yeah yeah, get some sleep and I’ll make you eggs when you’re up,” He tells her, smirking before she gags in reaction. “Extra runny” He adds when he gets up from the bed, and this time he’s greeted with a louder gag.

“I’ll get sick in your bed!” (y/n) threatens when he leaves.

To both of their relief, that doesn’t happen.

It takes a few hours before she feels steady enough on her feet to even get out of the bed. But at some point it’s too uncomfortable to keep trying to sleep off the hangover, and she prays a shower will soothe some of the aches and pains.

Yuuta bids her a cheeky good afternoon when she shuffles from his bedroom into the bathroom at well-past three o’clock. He’d been working on the final touches for his Econ essay at the kitchen table and was pleasantly surprised to see her up at all. She shoots him a glare but her lips deceive her and tilt into a small smile.

He’s more surprised to hear the shower running, seeing as she’d dragged her feet across the carpet and he wasn’t sure how long she’d be upright for, but he’s glad that she’s at least trying to push herself into feeling better. He doesn’t think anything more of it as he goes back to his work.

Fifteen minutes pass and he vaguely registers that the water has been shut off. And then a few minutes after that, the door creaked open.

“Hey, Yuuta?”

“Hm?” He hums in response, his fingers still gliding across his keyboard as he continues to work on his revisions.

“Would you make me those eggs now?”

He laughs, wrapping up a run on sentence that he’d probably go back to delete again later, before turning his head to give her a nod.

But he freezes and the color drains from his face as his eyes land on her. Almost instantly they begin to sting, burning with the need to blink, but they remain wide open and focused.

She’s standing there with nothing but a towel wrapped around her, water still dripping off the ends of her hair and sliding across her skin until they disappeared under the towel.

It was like someone took the dial on Yuuta’s senses and cranked it up until the knob broke off.

He was so obviously staring at her, his face awestruck as he gaped and his eyes dragged over her figure so slowly his lashes twitched.

His throat felt dry. His palms felt itchy. And when he finally met her gaze, she was raising a brow at him, expectantly.

Oh, right, she asked him a question.

“Yeah,” He said, turning his attention back to his computer so he could actually speak. “I’ll make you some eggs”

He’s quick to save his file and shut the laptop before standing from the table and heading to the kitchen.

“Thank you!” (y/n) calls, and shortly after he hears her door shutting and he can’t help but let out a long exhale.

As he gathers the eggs from the fridge and the pan from the cupboard, Yuuta tries to push the image far from his mind. But after their conversation last night and the incident from the night prior, he wonders if this is just his life now.

If he was the one destined to deal with having a hot roommate that he’d been falling for ever since they’d met in grade school. Maybe this was his torture, only brought on by himself the longer he bottled up his true feelings and pushed them deep, deep down.

This is what he deserved, he supposed. After spending years tripping over his words and his feet when it came to her. Years of struggling to keep his face from flushing when she looked at him, or trying to discreetly look at her when she didn’t notice. Years of trying to forget about the lingering buzz in his chest and haze in his brain left by her, all for the sake of trying to cling onto a friendship which paled in comparison to the ways he truly felt about her- but could never admit to.

With a skilled hand he cracked an egg over the pan and tossed the shell blindly towards the sink. It sizzled and popped as it began to cook, but even as Yuuta prodded it about the pan, his mind was far from focused on cooking.

Because now he wasn’t so sure if things were as one-sided as he previously thought.

Drunkenly making out with your best friend-slash-roommate is one thing. Maybe most would have pointed in his face and laughed for excusing such behavior, but he’d justified it as simple curiosity anyways.

But then she’d admitted to him that there were more times she thought about him in less-than-innocent-and-platonic-ways. She’d told him herself about those times- most of which Yuuta had never even thought twice about before. And then she even told him he was a good kisser!

Which begged the question in the back of his mind- was she still thinking about him?

“Shit” He hissed under his breath when he realized the egg was about to overcook past (y/n’s) liking, and rushed to slide a spatula underneath it and plate it up.

He tried to clear his mind as he cracked a second egg in the pan, wanting this one to be perfectly to her standards- not that she’d ever complain.

Just as he’s adding the second, better, egg to the plate, (y/n) pads back into the kitchen, a grin on her face as she takes the plate from him.

“Perfect, I’m starving” She cuts into the lesser-looking of the two and doesn’t comment on why it’s crispier around the edges, only smiles as she slides the fork out of her mouth.

Yuuta chuckles. All that anxiety over an egg, and she didn’t even seem to notice. Maybe all of this stuff had wormed too deep in his head. Maybe he should relax.

“I’m done with my essay,” He lies, knowing fully well that if he turned it in at it’s current state, it wouldn’t get a passing mark. “Watch a movie with me?”

(y/n) smiles and nods, still picking at her eggs as she makes her way to the sofa, putting him in charge of the remote and deciding on what to watch. Yuuta sits at what he deems a safe distance away from her. Completely on a separate cushion, and when he rests his arm along the back of the couch, he’s careful not to rest it too close to her.

He might still be overthinking everything.

But as the movie starts and (y/n) finishes her four o’clock breakfast, he slowly finds himself relaxing. His muscles feel less tense, his mind stops whirring, and for a good twenty minutes or so, he could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, and things were perfectly the same.

And then (y/n) pulls her legs up onto the couch and wiggles closer to him, until she’s tucked under his arm. He must’ve made a face, because when she looks up at him, she gives him a sheepish smile.

“What? ‘m cold,” She says, shifting closer to him still. “Does this bother you?”

“N-no!” He laughs in embarrassment when he stammers out the answer, and (y/n) chuckles back at him, before turning her attention back to the screen.

“Okay, good,” She hums, leaning her head back against his bicep. His entire arm tenses, and he’s overthinking again. “I don’t want things to be weird forever” She admits quietly.

“Don’t worry, s’not weird” Yuuta mumbles back.

She turns her head against his arm, looking up at him with a small frown. He winces, and feels guilty for lying to her.

“Yuuta, I’ve known you for a long time,” She says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think I can tell when you’re lying”

His wince turns into a miniature smile before he huffs out a quiet laugh through his nose.

“Touche,” He mumbles, and the corners of her lips quirk upwards. “Is… is there something I can do to make it less weird?”

Her brows pinch together, signifying that she didn’t think the solution was that easy. It wasn’t a change in habits, or a lengthy conversation at the kitchen table. It was messy, it was raw, and it was currently being held up by a lump in her throat and an irregular heartbeat in her chest.

“I don’t think so,” She murmurs with a sigh. “What about me?” She turns the question onto him. “Is there anything I can do?”

He shakes his head in a small motion back at her, his eyes flickering between hers with enough attention that he catches the way they gloom with sadness. Yuuta frowns, and before he can think about potentially making things worse, his palm cups her cheek, worry taking over his features.

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” He instructs, as though he were capable of reading her mind. “You didn’t do anything wrong”

“I know- I know, you keep saying that, but I…” Her voice is strained, her throat is burning, and she blames the lingering hangover for the swell in her emotions.

But she knows that’s not the source. She knows that the last few months- no- the last few years of gathering feelings for Yuuta are catching up to her, and their drunken little experiment on this very couch was just the tipping point she needed to solidify what those feelings really meant.

Yuuta’s thumb sweeps gently over her cheekbone, his touch was light but the warmth of his skin lingered there. She found herself leaning further into it, despite her better judgment.

Reason tells her to get a grip. It tells her to pack up the hormones and move on. It tells her to go back to the bar until she finds someone to get under just to get over Yuuta, or maybe even text that stuck up asshole that Maki warned her about. Anything it would take to move past this pebble in the grand scheme of her friendship with Yuuta. Reason tells her it was one night, and she can’t let one night ruin years of a special bond.

Her heart begs to differ. It cries, it pleads, it mourns the idea of not being truthful with him. Her heart weeps with the outpour of love and desire, after spending so long wondering what something more with Yuuta would look like, only to have a small taste, a sample, really. It was killing her, the thought of never having him fully, the thought that they’d go back to their friendship, more awkward than ever.

Currently, Yuuta wishes he could get a glimpse inside of her mind, because he could practically feel her inner turmoil happening before him. Her lips were sealed shut, but her thoughts were screaming behind her eyes. His brows draw together in obvious concern, and when she finally moves, it’s not to speak.

She’s pulled away from him and off the couch in a flurry of anxious movements. Yuuta barely registers that she’s grabbed her empty plate and fork and is hurrying into the kitchen. He blinks in a daze, before getting up and following her to the sink where she’s rinsing off the dirty dishes.

“I’m sorry, I-” She’s still stammering, despite trying to clear her mind and focus on communicating what felt the most important. That she wasn’t upset, that he didn’t do anything wrong, and that she was the only one to blame for all of this.

But that’s not what comes out.

“I just didn’t really see any of this going this way, you know?”

She’s speaking more clearly, but her voice is still a shaky whisper, afraid of not being able to take the words back. Yuuta’s waiting patiently, leaning against the kitchen counter while accidentally staring daggers at her back. She knows he’s just focused, but the heaviness of his gaze adds pounds of pressure to her shoulders.

“I know,” Yuuta tries to keep his voice calm, hoping to ease her anxiety by remaining collected. Even though a fiery mess of words were clawing up his throat and threatening to come out in a humiliating act of word vomit. “But, (y/n/n), I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me all the time”

She looks at him then, her eyes glossy with tears that she was trying to keep from falling.

“Yuuta, I don’t feel uncomfortable around you,” She says softly. Her hands tangle together nervously as she turns around to face him properly. They still wring together as she leans back against the sink and tries to find the words to explain her messy thoughts. “You didn’t do anything wrong”

He tilts his head at her, brows pinching in concern. “You didn’t do anything wrong, either” He reminds her for the second time today.

“I know, but-”

“I’m serious, (y/n),” He steps forward and crosses his arms over his chest, silently begging her not to look away from him so that she’d know he meant every word of it. “Whatever we- whatever I have to do to help you, just, forget what happened, you need to tell me,” He pleads. “I don’t care what it is, I don’t care if it’s ridiculous,” He’s shaking his head as he speaks, a nasty feeling of guilt building up in his stomach that he decides to push past for the greater good of not losing her. “I don’t care, okay?” He lowers his voice. “If you want the place to yourself for a while-”

“No!”

She shoots forward then, her hands latching onto his forearm as if he were about to abandon her then and there, as if she alone was strong enough to hold him in place if he tried. Her eyes are wide with panic, and in the heat of the moment a tear tracked down her cheek. She’s just as quick to let him go and roughly wipe away the wet streak with the back of her hand.

“I don’t want that, don’t- don’t do that,” She mumbles after collecting herself a little better.

Yuuta eyes her hands, no longer tangled together in a tight ball of white knuckles. They’re still strained, stretched out in front of her like she had a fresh coat of polish on them. If he looked close enough, he could see them trembling. He starts to uncross his arms, wanting to take hold of them and talk her down from this stressful moment. He wants to remind her that no matter what’s happened, he’s there for her because he cares about her. But just as he’s about to reach for her, she’s speaking again.

“I think I just wanted that to happen for a really long time,” She sighs, one of her hands darting through her hair to pull the overstimulating loose strands away from her face. “And I… I guess I wasn’t expecting it to be like- like that,”

Yuuta’s completely frozen before her, not having expected that of all the admissions she could’ve made. Mentally he’d been packing his things. Now he felt like he had whiplash and needed a good five seconds to do a full reset on reality.

“And that’s not fair I know I- I initiated the whole thing and I should’ve never listened to the Zen’ins it was stupid but I just thought maybe if it was a fleeting thing I’d get over you and things would be normal but I’m not and things aren’t normal and I feel so-!”

“You were trying to get over me?”

Yuuta’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. In fact the forgotten movie playing in the living room had a clearer volume than him. But somehow (y/n’s) frantic rambling ceased, and a silence settled between them.

He’s waiting for her to confirm that he’d heard her correctly, even though her exact words were still spiraling around in his head on a vicious loop. While she’s waiting for the floor to open up and swallow her whole for getting so worked up and letting her mouth run on autopilot.

“(y/n),” Yuuta calls to her when she doesn’t speak, or even move, to acknowledge that she’d heard him.

He knows she had, he knows she’s aware of exactly what she’d said. He raises his eyebrows at her, wordlessly trying to get her to say something, anything. She gapes at him like a fish out of water- thrown into a completely new element that she’s not equipped for, lost and afraid that she’ll suffocate to death.

“(y/n)” He says her name again, this time stepping forward. He finally finds the courage to grab her tensed hands, and he wraps them in his and squeezes until he feels them relax. A method that he’d used countless times before to calm her down- whether she was ranting about work or having a panic attack, it always did the trick.

Even now, her eyes soften a little bit as she stares at him worriedly, trying to figure out what he was thinking before he had the chance to voice it himself. Her hands fall limp in his, and slowly, she presses her fingers into his palms.

“Yeah,” Her voice is hoarse, and her eyes lower from his, at first out of embarrassment, but then they land on his lips, pink and soft and parted in surprise, and her mind wanders off to recall just how sweetly he’d kissed her.

For that first kiss, timid and new and exciting, he’d been so gentle. If she thought about it, she could still feel the tingle of eagerness in her lips, and the warmth of his hand against her thigh. Her eyes linger a little longer than they should have as she brought herself completely back to that moment. She wants to be sure that if he’d kissed her like that- passionately, desperately- that there must have been more behind it than simple drunken curiosity, right?

“I- I was trying to get over you,” The rest of her answer has long since been delayed, but Yuuta doesn’t seem perplexed when her eyes flicker back up to his. “It wasn’t just a kiss,” She continues, her fingers curling around his hands to ensure he felt every ounce of authenticity in her words. “Not for me,” She shakes her head. “I know I said that it was but I… I was lying. It wasn’t. I just… wanted to kiss you. At least once, or, at least to be sure. About my… feelings… anyways”

Yuuta blinked. His expression had been shockingly blank, and it was starting to unsettle her. She didn’t want to have to apologize or take any of it back, but the longer he silently stared at her, the more unease stirred in her stomach.

“I lied, too,” He tells her suddenly, and her lips twitch into a nervous smile. A chuckle escapes him before he clarifies. “It wasn’t just a kiss for me either. Not even a little bit”

He watches in real time as she reacts to his admission. First her expression softens as her heart begins to melt for him. Then her eyes lit up, brightening before him so brilliantly he couldn’t help but grin, just as she was doing now.

And then before he can tell her just exactly how it is he feels, she’s pulling her hands out of his, grabbing him by the shoulders and shooting up to the tips of her toes so she could reach him properly for a kiss.

He’s startled by the sudden act, but just as quickly has his hands wrapped around her waist and is reciprocating the kiss with fervor.

She’s instantly breathless, gasping for air between fast, heated kisses, but even when Yuuta tries to give her a minute to catch her breath, her lips are chasing his and she’s locking them together needily again. Air could wait.

It only takes a miniscule shuffle backwards on her part for Yuuta’s hands to continue pushing her hips, guiding her to keep blindly tripping until her back hits the counter. A small gasp at the sudden bump escaped her throat but she recovered in a moment's notice.

Just as Yuuta’s stooping lower to her height, his hands wandering down her waist and latching onto her thighs, her own grip tightens on his shoulders as she braces herself for him to lift her up. A sweet, delighted little sound comes out of her when she’s placed on the counter and Yuuta’s slotting himself between her legs in one swift motion. Their kisses barely cease as his hands are at the nape of her neck and in her hair as he skillfully tilts her head to deepen their kiss.

Her back arches and she leans forward off the counter until she’s pressed as close to him as she can get. The bend of her knees are loosely hooked at his hips, and in small movements she tries to tighten their hold on him. This proved to be difficult as the messier his kisses became, the weaker her knees grew.

Oxygen is gifted to her in abundance as Yuuta’s mouth trails along her jaw, swollen lips dragging over sensitive skin in between lazy kisses. Her chest heaves as she pants, and Yuuta must have noticed because he chuckles into the junction of her jaw and neck.

“Why were you trying to get over me, pretty girl?” His lips tickle her neck as he speaks, punctuated with a sweet kiss followed by a filthier suckle of the alluring skin. It has her hips squirming, which Yuuta notices as well, taking great haste to wrap his hands around the dips in her waist, keeping her still and firm against him.

“I-” She’s cut off by her own gasp as Yuuta returns to leaving a pretty mark on the side of her neck, just low enough that there was no hairstyle or collar that could possibly keep it hidden. “I thought it was the right thing”

He lifts his head, finally meeting her gaze with hooded eyes and a lazy smirk that she can’t tear her eyes away from, even as he speaks.

“Right thing,” He repeats back with a chuckle that sets her body ablaze. He leans towards her again, his nose prodding hers to the side until their lips brush as they speak. “Baby, it’s an absolute shame that we weren’t doing this the whole time”

Her hands are gripping at the material of his tee shirt so tight she’s convinced she could rip it right off his chest if she wanted to. Her knuckles are white, and bound to start trembling soon, but she doesn’t care about looking foolishly desperate anymore. Wanting him is the only thought occupying her mind.

Her lips are on his again in a heartbeat, and even though she’s kissing him and she’s the one trying to tug his shirt over his head, she whines in annoyance when Yuuta breaks the kiss to properly get the material out of the way. He’s laughing again, mocking her for the pout on her lips before her hands are on him again and she’s sighing contentedly into his mouth.

And her hands are everywhere. She’s touching him like she’s never felt human skin. She touches him like she lost her sight and mapping out every inch of his body with her hands was the only way for her to know who it was before her. Delicate fingertips trace along his collarbones, down his chest, along his abdomen, through the ridges of his abs, and then all over again. At first it’s a precise dance, but it doesn’t take long for the movements to get sloppy, and the soft caresses turn into her grabbing and pawing at him.

“You c’n take mine off,” She tells him, voice low and strained against his lips. His teeth sink into her bottom lip, only for a quick second out of pure impulsive desire, before his hands are sliding under her shirt and shoving the offending clothing up and over her head. It’s dropped somewhere on the kitchen floor with his own forgotten shirt, and (y/n) grins at him as she loops her arms around his neck, fingers raking gently through the hair that hangs there. “Eager, hm?” She giggles, and for a moment, she looks genuinely delighted, happy like she’d just been told good news.

The look softens and melts into something completely different when he responds.

“Well, ‘ve wanted you since high school” His voice growing huskier than she was used to, and when he catches her lips in a deep kiss, slower and more sensual than the ones before, desire pools in her stomach and she buries her hands further into his hair.

“H- high school?” She repeats back to him in a breathy moan. Yuuta hums in confirmation, stealing another kiss. “Why didn’t you-?” The question fails her while his hands roam over her hips, snaking their way up towards her bra.

“Didn’t think it was the right thing,” He chuckles as he uses her words against her. She’d roll her eyes if they weren’t already in the back of her head from his fingers teasing her through the lacy cups of her bra. “Pretty girl, getting all worked up over nothing,” He sighs, and she tilts her head forward to chase his lips, but he doesn’t grant her another kiss right away.

One of his hands reaches for her face, cupping her cheek almost tenderly as he admires the dazed and needy look on her face. Her blown pupils, swollen lips, heavy lashes- Yuuta always found her to be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, but having her in this state might take the cake.

“If only you’d known the way I thought about you then,” He admits. Her eyes grow a little wider, curious, and excited. “Fuck, I don’t think you’d’ve wanted to live with me” He mumbles, an amused smirk on his lips.

Tugging on the strands of his hair until his face is as close as she wanted him to be, (y/n’s) lips curl into an eager smile.

“Well, we’re here now,” She murmurs. One of her hands travels down his neck and then the rest of his body, almost on it’s own accord, until her fingers prod and tuck into the waistband of his sweats. Her eyes follow the bob of his adam’s apple when he swallows thickly, her smile only brightening. “And this time there’s no one to interrupt us?” She tilts her head as she makes the quiet suggestion, and Yuuta’s smile begins to mirror her own.

“Oh, ‘s that so?” He asks, his hands scooping her up off the counter and lifting her into his chest with ease. The quick movement makes her laugh, her arms winding around his neck, and her legs hooking over his hips.

She’s still grinning like an idiot when she leans down to kiss him again. It’s messier than before, all teeth and breathless laughter, but the moment is so sweet, and it feels so good to kiss him properly- not on some silly whim, but for real- that she doesn’t care about it being sloppy. His hands are secured tight under her legs, and when they part again, she raises an eyebrow at him.

“Would you like to take me right here or…?” She asks, her face undeniably flushing with pink at the forward question. He chuckles, his eyes crinkling at their corners as he smiles back at her, giving her left leg a teasing squeeze.

“Take you, hm?” He mocks, before adjusting her against him, pulling her closer, holding her tighter, and her face grows hotter with embarrassment but she’s grinning from ear to ear nonetheless.

“Mhm” She nods, and is giggling quietly again as he begins to carry her with him out of the kitchen.

He wants to keep kissing her, but he can’t help but let his stare linger on her pretty features. His heavy gaze has her flustering even more in his hold, only making him want to stare at her for longer. It’s making him a bit clumsy, tripping over their shirts on the floor, knocking into the furniture on the way, tipping a chair over and wincing when it hits the ground, but not caring enough to go back and correct it. They’re still laughing, noses brushing and quick kisses being stolen in between quiet giggles and hushed, teasing whispers.

“Don’t you dare drop me”

“Before the chance to ‘take you’, pretty girl? Wouldn’t dream of it”

She’s not sure of the room he’s brought them into until the door is kicked shut and she’s greeted with twinkly orange fairy lights and the lingering scent of incense and her favorite perfume.

Once the door is shut his lips are on hers again, so swollen they almost feel sore but he’d rather go numb than refrain from kissing her again. He moves slowly, memorizing every dip and curve of her lips, every taste of her velvety mouth.

He’s even slow when he sets her down on the bed, and slow to let her go so she can shuffle back on the covers. He pauses completely when she settles at her headboard, her thumbs sticking into the hem of the cotton shorts she’d been wearing, and pushing them down her legs.

She’s biting her lip to keep from smiling too hard when she drops them on the floor, her eyes never leaving his.

“Well are you getting in bed with me, or not?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, kneeling on the mattress and crawling over her until she was caged beneath him, hands settled at either side of her head to keep himself from putting too much weight on her. Her eyes brighten from underneath him, and her hands wrap around the nape of his neck to pull him down to her lips.

“I’ve been wonderin’ about somethin’,” Yuuta hums, appreciating the purple love bite on her neck before deciding she could use some more. His hands slide beneath her, unclasping her bra with ease before reaching for the straps on her shoulders and sliding them down her arms. She hums in response, tilting her chin back as he continued to pepper kisses down her neck and across her chest. “That night, when you hurried off to bed,” He reminds her, a large, calloused palm trailing from her side down to her hip, agonizingly slow. His thumb stretches out to tease at the waistband of the baby blue panties she wore, admiring the lacy trim before flicking his gaze back up to hers. “D’ya touch yourself?”

A bashful giggle escapes her, her head tossing to the side in the hopes of hiding her embarrassment in her pillow. Her reaction was answer enough, and enough to make the corner of Yuuta’s lips twitch in a lazy smirk, but he still wanted a better response than that.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Gotta have an answer, I’m afraid,” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice that’s melting her like putty in his hands.

He gives her the benefit of easing up on the heavy gaze, dropping his head to plant kisses down her chest, through the valley of her breasts, before exploring over to the perky nipple. He rolls his tongue lazily over the hardened bud, before wrapping his teeth and lips around it and giving it a small tug, just as his hand groped at her other breast with a gentle, experimental squeeze. She squirmed beneath him, longing for more. He smirks as he releases her nipple with a pop of his lips, just as his fingers pinch the other one, tweaking it and watching as her face screws up and a long whine is evoked from her. His hands knead selfishly at her breasts a bit more as his lips travel down her chest excitedly, only slowing down once he’d crawled down enough to reach her navel.

“You been worked up since then, baby?” He murmurs so sweetly that she whines. He drags one of his hands down to rest across the lowest part of her tummy. It splayed out far enough to grip at the plush of her thigh, and still trail his thumb over the lacy hem of the last of her garments. She raises her hips for him, desperate to feel just a little more friction from his hands.

And then she nods, shaky and fast, and her hand wraps around his wrist, tugging needily, but he keeps his hold firm on her hip, squeezing a little tighter.

Yuuta grins as she whines in irritation, his eyes flickering down to the wet patch on her panties, and then back up to her pouting face.

“Y’look so pretty when you’re needy like this,” He sighs, before settling down on the mattress completely. Using his hand on her hip he tossed her leg over his shoulder with ease, his other hand wrapped under her thigh, holding it just right so she’d keep them open for him. “You don’t know how long I thought about this pretty girl, ‘bout you”

With his free hand, he ghosted his thumb over her panties, just barely hovering over where she craved the friction the most. This elicited another whine.

“Yuuta,” She huffed, one of her hands fisting the sheets beneath her tightly as a means to let out the pent up frustration he was putting her through. “Please, touch me, please”

He hums, and hooks his thumb through the crotch of her panties, tugging the material to the side to give him a better view of the sticky mess she was making. He couldn’t help but groan as he dragged the fat pad of his thumb from her soaked hole up to the hood over her clit, dragging it back painfully slow. Her breaths grew even more labored, and Yuuta gave into her pleas as soon as her puffy clit was exposed.

“I like when you say please” He murmurs, breath cool over her slick heat.

He didn’t give her a chance to say anything else before he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, giving it a languid roll of his tongue. Her hips stuttered and he quickly found he’d have to hold on a little tighter to keep her legs nice and spread for him.

A few more slow licks and she was moaning for him. Her head tossed back into her pillows, her back arched and hips raised for him while she whimpered and whined sweet noises for him. Every little sound spurred him on further, earning her an eager suck at her throbbing clit.

She got more vocal as his finger circled her needy hole, clenching around nothing as he ghosted around the outside, feeling more wetness spill out the longer he teased her. Yuuta had to press his own hips hard into the mattress just to ease the mind-consuming hardness in his pants.

When he teases the tip of his finger inside, feeling her tight, warm walls practically suck him in, he groans into her pussy, and that was all the more she needed to get louder, and a little more confident about asking for what she wanted.

“Yes, yes, Yuuta, please, put it in, put it in” She’s babbling, carried away by her own building desire, and shamelessly rutting her hips to try and get him to press his thick finger in further.

He hums, sending another jolt through her core as his lips are still wrapped around her clit, and she’s chanting again.

“Please, p- please, please~” Over and over like a mantra, each strained whimper more enticing to him than the last. Until eventually he grants her wish, and curls his finger the rest of the way inside, moving at a slow pace.

It doesn’t take him long to find the spongy spot when he curls his finger just right inside of her that makes her chant his name with so much praise he worries he could cum in his pants just listening to her.

“Gonna-!” She’s cut off by a sharp breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly as his tongue rolls viciously over her overstimulated clit while he plunges a second finger to pump in and out of her. “Yuu-ta-! I’m gonna-! You’re gonna make me-!”

“C’mon pretty girl,” He mutters into her pussy, giving her clit a harsh suck in between. “You can do it, cum for me baby”

The hot, tightening cord in her core finally snaps, washing heat and pleasure over her body in waves so strong she’s tearing up as she cries out his name and clamps down on his fingers, still pumping in and out of her as more sticky cream coats them. He’s grinning at the sight of her shaking legs and screwed up face that relaxes as the sudden climax wears off into a dazed high. He sits up on his knees with a chuckle, sliding his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean almost dramatically before her.

Her eyelids feel heavy as she gazes up at him in all of his glory. His lips and chin are slick with her juices, his pupils are blown wide and his hair hangs in front of his face, a few strands getting stuck to his forehead. But he quickly rakes a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face before he’s lowering himself over her again, kissing either of her hips before working his way up her body.

“Did so good f’me, baby,” He praises as his lips reach the top of her breasts, mouthing at the soft flesh before continuing on to her marked up collarbones. “So perfect, so sexy when you cum,” He continues to babble out praise while she whimpers and wiggles beneath him, already seeking out more friction. “Wanna make you do it again”

Her hands trail down his abdomen, fingernails dragging just slightly over his skin, until they reach the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Then take these off” The demand comes out as more of a whine than she means it to, and she pouts when he chuckles at her.

“Eager, hm?” He teases.

“Stop using my words against me” She huffs, and one of Yuuta’s hands is enough to replace both of hers, giving his pants and boxers a swift tug that pushes them to his thighs, before he peels them the rest of the way off.

“Make me”

He grins at her, but her teasing mood melts away as soon as he’s completely naked on top of her and she watches his erect dick spring out from the confines of his clothes, tapping against his abs. She knows she’s staring too hard, but she can’t help it. It was her first time seeing her best friend’s dick. And she had no idea he was so… big.

She’d never had much trouble with the couple of guys she’d slept with before, and they hadn’t exactly had small dicks, but looking at him now, she wasn’t sure he’d even fit in there.

“You never told me you had a big dick” She mumbles, shyly meeting his gaze. Yuuta tries to stifle his laughter, but her eyes are so wide and full of wonder that he can’t help but chuckle a bit at her reaction.

“It’s not exactly something- fuck-”

He’s cut off when her hand tentatively reaches between them, wrapping around the thick base and giving him an experimental pump before sliding her thumb over the swollen pink tip, gathering the precum leaking out of it and spreading it down the rest of his length. Yuuta shudders out a breath, his eyes falling shut as he tries to compose himself, she’d barely touched him and his fist was clenched in the sheets.

“Not exactly something friends t- talk about” He stammers as she pumps him again, a small smile growing on her face as she watches his composure crumple as he gives into the pleasure.

“Well maybe you should’ve,” She murmurs, widening her legs as she guides him closer to her. “We probably would’ve fucked a long, long time ago”

It’s by far not the crudest thing said today, but it’s enough for him to take her hand and push it into the pillow beside her head. During the action his eyes catch the silver chain daintily clasped around her wrist, little star and moon charms clinking together. His eyes gloss over with an emotion (y/n’s) never noticed on him before, but she doesn’t get the chance to question him about it before his free hand taking his cock and rubbing the fat head through her wet folds. They both whine at the pleasurable friction.

“Fuck, baby,” Yuuta sighs as he lets his hips roll over hers a few more times. If she felt this good just like this he wasn’t sure he’d make it long once he was inside. Nonetheless, he’s eager to line himself up at her entrance. “Ready f’me?” He asks, his eyes meeting hers, and she nods up at him breathlessly.

She might be lying, because truthfully as soon as he pushes the tip in, she gasps and fights the urge to wince at the pain of being split open so wide. This was certainly the biggest dick she's ever taken, and he wasn’t even halfway in yet. But the more he pushes in, the more the sharp pain turns to pleasure of being so filled up.

“Aah- Yuu-” She cries out, her nails scratching up his back a little harder than she intended. He hissed at the feeling but made no move to keep her from doing it. “Too- ‘s too big,” She whines just as he bottoms out. “Won’t fit- won’t-”

“Shh, no, baby, look,” He coos, his hand cupping her face sweetly before he presses a kiss to her lips and nods down to where he’s completely sheathed inside of her. “It’s all in, you’re takin’ me so well, see?” He muses, giving her a small rock of her hips that has her whining again. “Can I keep goin’?” His thumb strokes over her cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen there.

She gives him a shaky nod, before sighing loudly.

“Yes, please,” She hums, and when he pulls out most of the way and slowly sinks back in, her nails are dragging over his back again, clinging tight to his broad shoulders in between scratches.

He groans every time he buries himself inside of her, picking up more of a pace with every thrust, and making sure to praise her as soon as he catches his breath and is able to do so.

“Feel’so good, baby, takin’ it so good” He grunts as his hips slam into hers with a little more force than before, earning a high pitched moan of pleasure out of her, followed by a tighter grip on his shoulders. Yuuta hums appreciatively and repeats the action until she’s letting out nonstop strings of breathy moans and broken syllables that don’t quite make words.

“Does- ah! Feels- feels good,” She stammers out, rocking her hips in time with him and crying out when his tip hits that spot inside of her that makes a familiar knot twist in her stomach. “So good, Yuuta, right- right there-!”

“Here?” He rasps, his hands pulling her hips upwards for a better angle, and he’s rewarded with a yelp of surprise as her back arches further to meet his thrusts.

“Uh- uh-huh” (y/n) whines back at him as he picks up a faster pace.

Just as she’s about to warn him that she can feel her orgasm coming on, one of his hands slides across her hip until his thumb finds her clit, rubbing messy circles into it until she’s crying out his name like he’d show her mercy.

“Gettin’ so tight, baby, you gonna cum?” A fucked out grin takes over his face as he rubs harsher over the bundle of nerves. (y/n’s) jaw trembles as she gasps and moans. He groans as her walls flutter around him, getting tighter and wetter by the second. She was about to snap, if it wasn’t obvious in the way she whimpered and cried out his name, he could feel it coming on. “Be a good girl and cum all over my cock, hm?”

The wave of her second orgasm is more powerful than the first, her entire bod shuddering as Yuuta continues to fuck her through it, watching a ring of cream form around his dick. She’s still whimpering and babbling out nonsense while he’s fucking her, delighting in the hot wetness that of her post-orgasm pussy. The praise falls from his lips before he can think about what he’s saying at all.

“Fuck, baby, you jus’ got so much wetter f’me” His head falls to the crook of her neck, kissing and sucking at any skin he can reach while his lips relentlessly pound into her.

“All f’you,” She mumbles back uselessly, feeling overstimulated in the most deliciously mind-numbing way. “Jus’ f’you, only you”

He nips teasingly at her throat before kissing the spot sweetly.

“That’s right, pretty girl, all mine now, yeah?” He groans, and she nods weakly back at him, teary eyes struggling to meet his as that coil in her core starts wrapping up tight again.

“Mhm” Is all she can manage for an answer.

“That’s it, baby,” Yuuta praises through a deep groan. “Y’gonna cum again, aren’t you?” She can’t possibly work up the energy to respond, only whining and trembling beneath him like a slut. His pretty n’ perfect little slut. “Fuck, love your pussy s’much, wanna fuck y’like this all the time now, love f’cking you, love you s’much”

With the mindless praise comes a confession that was less than meaningless, and suddenly (y/n’s) eyes are wide and his hips are stuttering and the heat of the room begins to make them sweat more than the strenuous cardio.

Yuuta opens his mouth, about to say something, maybe take it back, or explain that he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but (y/n) beats him to it, and she cuts through the bullshit before he can even start.

“You meant that,” Her voice is soft and gentle as she stares up at him with wide eyes. Her pupils are still taking up most of her pretty eyes, flickering over his shocked expression with a curious glint. “Didn’t you?”

The rest of the question comes out in a barely-there whisper, but he watches the movement of her lips, perfectly catching what she was saying.

“(y/n/n), look, I-”

“I love you,” She murmurs out before he can come up with a way to explain himself. Her hands are shaky as she reaches for his face, sliding them around his jaw and pulling him down close to her, whimpering in the slightest when the movement has his cock sliding along her walls just right.

There’s tears in her eyes as she stares up at him with nothing but genuine emotion. Her lips tremble as they curl into a small and her gaze flickers between his eyes adoringly.

“I do, I love you,” She says it again, smiling even wider as the sweet confession tumbles past her lips. “I love you so much, Yuuta- I- I love you so much it’s been driving me crazy” She lets out a breathless laugh before pressing a quick peck to his lips.

His eyes are wide and so focused on her he barely registers her small kiss.

He blinks, trying to clear his mind, trying to focus properly on what she’s telling him.

“I did mean it,” He forces out, lips brushing hers as he mumbles the admission. “I do, love you. I love you- I’ve always loved you, it’s always been you, baby, always,” The block in his throat is quickly removed as the babbling resumes, as does the gentle rocking of his hips.

(y/n) can’t recall a time she’d ever had sweet sex with anyone- she can’t recall a time she’d ever craved sweet sex with someone. But something about being underneath Yuuta, having him fuck her softly while he goes on about how much he loves her, has her breath getting caught in her throat and tears of joy and pleasure sliding down her cheeks. He kisses them away between whispered confessions and promises.

“Loved you f’ so long,” He murmurs against her cheek, before leaning down to capture her lips in a sweet kiss, only to be cut off when she gasps, a third orgasm reaching it’s climax. “Love you always, love you s’much, want you to cum f’me again, baby, m’kay?”

With a weak nod, she drops one of her hands to reach down and circle her clit. It’s so sensitive she cries out right away, and Yuuta groans as her walls spasm around his cock.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it, good girl,” He praises, rutting into her a little harder. “Want you to cum with me” He instructs, and she nods again, whimpering and crying in agreement.

“‘m gonna- oh, Yuuta, ‘m gonna-!”

She can’t finish her words, but she clenches down around him and that’s the final straw Yuuta needed to cum, thick hot ropes coating her walls with a deep groan, simultaneously pushing her over the edge with him as she tightens around him and cums again, breathy moans leaving her in pants as all of her muscles spasm.

Yuuta drops his forearm to the mattress, his hand pushing some of her hair away from her face before tracing gently over her cheek. Her eyes were still shut, lips parted as she came down from her high and tried to catch her breath. They’re both hot and sticky with sweat and various other juices ruining the sheets, but right now neither of them care in the slightest.

He just wants to stay here for as long as possible and enjoy how pretty she looks underneath him.

“I can feel you staring” She mumbles, peeking an eye open to catch him in the act. He chuckles at her, pressing his hand against her cheek, heart fluttering when she pushes her face further into the warmth, despite being hot and sweaty, his heat was comforting.

“Can’t help it,” He murmurs back, pecking his lips to the tip of her nose. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” He praises. “Even prettier naked. And under me. Bonus points”

Now she’s the one to giggle quietly, her eyes crinkling and her cheeks flushing with color.

“Be right back,” He hums, kissing her nose again before climbing off the bed, grabbing his sweats from the floor and pulling them on with tired movements before leaving the room.

He must not have been gone long, because when he’s back (y/n) feels like it still wasn’t enough time to catch her breath. But she smiles when she sees he’s brought a glass of water and a damp rag.

He hands her the water before he slides her legs open to gently clean up the sticky mess they’d both made. He does his best to be careful, knowing she was overly sensitive. When he’s done he tosses the rag into his laundry bin and turns back to her with a smile.

“C’mon,” He hums, sliding his hands around her hips. “Let’s get you into clean clothes, too”

She sits up with his help, and he leaves the bed in search of clean panties and a cozy set of pajamas. She gets dressed with his help too, although she insists she could’ve done it herself.

“Thank you,” She hums once she’s in clean clothes. “I’ll have to wash my sheets-”

“We can do it tomorrow,” Yuuta hums, scooping her up from the bed with a grin. (y/n) smiles as she leans her head against his shoulder, not even bothering to tease him for needlessly carrying her from her room to his. “I just want to spend the rest of tonight with you”

“M’kay” She murmurs sleepily, and thanks him again when they’re in his room and he’s laying her down in his sheets.

As soon as he’s settled into his side she wiggles closer, pressing him onto his back so that she can lay on top of his warm chest, humming contentedly like a cat in a patch of sunshine once her leg is thrown over his and his hand cradles the back of her head.

Yuuta pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a few moments longer than necessary, hoping he could convey every last feeling he held for her through the simple affection.

“I love you, (y/n)” He murmurs softly.

Lazily, her hand reaches around until she finds his, fingers pushing his palm open and sliding across it until she slots them between his. He curls his fingers over her hand, squeezing gently, before letting his thumb trace along hers mindlessly.

She tilts her head until her chin rests on his chest, just close enough to look at him properly without being uncomfortable. A soft smile curls on her lips, which he quickly mirrors.

“I love you, Yuuta,” She whispers back, before sliding up closer to him, propping herself up on a shaky elbow, her fingers also trembling as they touch softly against his chin, and then his lips, tracing the curve of his smile, pressing into the plush of his bottom lip, all the while watching with eyes holding nothing short of pure adoration. “A lot,” She adds almost as an afterthought, before leaning downwards, pausing just short of his lips. “Thank you for not letting me slip away,” She tells him, staring so deep into the dark oceans of his eyes that she wonders if she could drown in them. “Thank you for not letting me go”

His smile softens, and the hand that he had tangled in her hair slides to the nape of her neck, before reaching for her cheek.

“Me? Let you go?” He chuckles warmly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiles at her. He guides her face closer to his. “Never,” He mumbles, before sealing their lips together in a long, gentle kiss. When they part, he holds her close so their foreheads touch, gazing up at her fondly. “You’re my moon and stars, pretty girl”

A flash of recognition lights up in her eyes, and her heart melts just a little more for him.

“Is that so?” She teases, but her words are faint, whispered against his lips with barely any volume behind them. He smiles, brushing his nose over hers playfully.

“Mhm,” He hums. “Always have been”

“Then I guess that makes you…” She trails off thoughtfully, before her eyes light up and she looks down at him again. “The sun,” She murmurs.

Yuuta laughs, his brows furrowing together in disbelief and humor.

“Don’t laugh,” (y/n) pouts. “I mean it. You are the sun. My sun” She adds the last part bashfully.

“I think that’s the afterglow talking” He teases with a chuckle, dropping his head back into his pillow. (y/n) grins, wiggling closer until she slid her body overtop of his, straddling one of his legs and beaming down at him when he wrapped his hands around her hips, slipping them under the tee shirt she had on.

“Maybe,” She drawled, both of them giggling quietly to themselves. “But it’s true. You’re bright, and warm…” She trails off, sliding her hands up his chest and giggling before cupping his face and leaning over to smile right at him. “You shine and make my every day… better because of it”

His lips part, taken aback by the sudden sweet words. (y/n’s) cheeks are pink, but she doesn’t shy away from his gaze, only leans closer to brush her lips over his.

“Who knew you were a softie?” He hums, hooking a finger under her chin to keep her close.

“Well, like you said,” She furrows her brow in mock seriousness. “Afterglow”

He chuckles, shaking his head before pulling her chin downward so he could slant his lips over hers properly.

She melts down into him, the simple kiss turning into a lazy makeout session that only got messier and lazier the more she sunk into him. He chuckles when her tongue glides across his bottom lip, breaking the kiss.

“I can feel you fallin’ asleep, baby” He teases, cupping her cheek and tucking her down into him, before grabbing his blanket and pulling it over them both. (y/n) pouts.

“Wasn’t fallin’ asleep” She mutters back. He hums in disbelief.

“S’ok. There’s plenty of time for that tomorrow, yeah?” He asks, sliding his hand over her hip and caressing soothing circles into her skin. “And the next day… and the next day…”

She giggles quietly at him before giving in and settling comfortably against him. He kisses her forehead once, twice, and then a third time just because.

“Alright, alright. Want to go get breakfast tomorrow?” She asks before yawning, and only sinking deeper into the cozy warmth that was him afterwards.

“Askin’ me on a date?” Yuuta muses, but nods his head right away. “I’m in”

“Okay, then, it’s official” She mumbles, smiling into his neck.

“Official” He murmurs back, smiling stupidly to himself even long after she’s gone to sleep on top of him. ___

bonus:

[maki] : for the record, i told you boning was the way to go.

[mai] : don’t be gross. just be happy for them. [mai] : but. ya. glad u boned ur way to happily ever after you cute n sexy bunnies!!!

[maki] : but what I said was gross?? blegh :p

[(y/n)] : ur both gross but i <3 you anyways [(y/n)] : besides, the stuff toge said to yuuta was waaaay weirder o_O ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#okkotsu yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader smut #okkotsu yuuta smut #yuuta x reader #yuuta x reader smut #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #yuuta #okkotsu

671 notes · View notes

keerysfreckles · 9 months ago

Note

Okay hi I don’t know if I’m doing this right and this is how you rqs something, I saw your cry for help for a luke Castellan fic,

could I pls request something like a daughter of Poseidon reader and her and Luke have been friends for years but haven’t never really seen each other as more than that until some guy starts to hit on her and Luke gets jealous asf and then the Luke starts a fight with him because he said something nasty about reader, and rewarded gets pissed off that Luke’s fighting and it’s super angsty and jealous and they fight and make up and realise their feelings and maybe a kiss?????

Hope that wasn’t too long xx

someone gets hurt — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x poseideon fem!reader

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, a couple swear words, character sexualizing reader

a/n: GETTING THE HOO BOOKS TOMORROW!!!!!!!!

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

"again!"

the sound of swords clanging against each other echoed in the empty field and through the forest.

"luke, how many more times do we have to do this?" y/n was out of breath. her right hand was red from gripping her sword too hard for the past hour, her hair has been tied back by now, and sweat coated her cheeks and arms.

"no offence, but your dad is into water, not swords," luke responds.

"what? you're saying i'm not the best swordsman in camp?"

luke chuckles, "obviously, because i'm here."

y/n only laughs at his response.

"swordswoman."

"what?" y/n's more than confused.

"you wouldn't be the best sowrdsman at camp. swordswoman would be the correct term."

instead of responding y/n shoves her sword inbetween luke's wrist and hip, skillfully pushing her own sword to make his fall to the ground.

"yeah, yeah, miss one time champ. go get some water," luke laughs.

"you know, after being your friend for so many years," y/n starts, but takes another sip of water as luke walks over to the bench she's sitting on. she continues, "you would think i'd learn your fighting patterns, and actually beat you for once."

"that's the thing y/n. my fighting strategies always change. once you find them out, they'll just change again," luke replies.

"you ready to go again?" luke asks for a few minutes, letting the girl have time to rest.

y/n nods, and gratefully takes luke's hand to help her up off the bench. she walks over to the dirt area with a slight limp. luke had cut her leg earlier, on accident of course, and y/n insisted she was fine. after pouring half her water bottle on it, there was nothing more than a light scar. however it still hurt.

"wow! with a limp like that, you'd think i was with her all night!"

corey andrews stepped into the clearing of the woods, with his ares brothers right beside him. ever since he got to camp a year ago he'd been harassing y/n. he always found a way to call her out in front of others. and it made y/n's blood boil.

she was about to walk over to the idiotic camper and punch him, but luke grabbed her wrist.

"leave it," his voice was soft, yet firm.

y/n gives in, and goes back to sword fighting with luke. the pair ignore corey and his friends.

corey on the other hand dislikes the silence. he walks over to y/n's side, and pokes her in the sides. it causes her to let out a small shriek and drop her sword.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" she turns and scolds corey, punching him in the shoulder.

"dude, you never mess with someone while they have a sword in their hands," luke picks up y/n's sword for her.

"oh that was nothing. we're just playing, right babe?"

y/n's stomach drops at the name coming out of corey's mouth.

"what's your problem andrews?" luke gently pushes y/n behind him. a motion the girl would soon be thankful for.

"my problem is that absolute babe, with that kinda body isn't in my bed right now," corey gestures to y/n. she's fully behind luke, holding onto his arm. was it out of comfort? or in order to keep luke from lashing out? y/n didn't know, but luke didn't mind her touch.

"she's busy," luke answers for her, feeling her grip tighten, "we're busy. so if you could leave, that'd be great."

luke needed corey to get out of his sight before he punched him. he couldn't stand what the ares boy was saying about his best friend.

"not before i get a piece of her," corey snickers and lunges to try and get to y/n from behind luke.

"corey!" luke scolds, throwing his arms out to block corey.

"don't touch me!" y/n yells in fear, now holding luke's shirt tighter than ever.

finally one of corey's friends speaks up, "corey, come on, they both asked you to leave her alone."

the other friend can't help but agree.

"y/n, go find chiron and tell him about corey," luke whispers. with a nod, y/n's running in the direction of the big house. anything to get away from corey.

before the harasser can get a gain on y/n, luke's grabbing him by the shirt. he lets go, but only to punch him square in the face.

blood instantly seeps out of his nose, and luke swore he saw fire gleaming in corey's eyes.

"why are you so protective of her? what? you sleeping with her or something?"

luke's expression doesn't change.

"if you say one more thing about her, i swear i'll punch you into the ground."

no words were spoken, making luke release his grip on corey's shirt. corey however takes the opportunity to shove his head into luke's knocking him back a few steps.

corey gets a few punches in before luke regains his balance. a few more punches land on luke's arms, before he shoves corey back, and punches him one last time before the asshole is laying on the ground.

luke's breathing heavily and corey's catching his breath on the groun as chiron speaks up.

he walks fully out of the woods now, with y/n climbing off his back. as soon as she told him what happened, he directed her to get in his back as he ran towards the arena.

y/n ran to luke as chiron started scolding corey and his two brothers, mostly corey though.

y/n holds luke's face in her hands, running her thumbs over the fresh red patches on his cheeks.

"are you okay?" there's nothing but concern filling her voice.

luke dryly chuckles, "you should see the other guy."

y/n leans up and wraps her arms around luke's neck to fully pull him into a hug. in seconds his own arms wrap around her waist.

as they pull away, luke watches chiron walk off with the three ares brothers.

"are you okay?" luke finally asks y/n.

she nods, "yeah, it's uh, nothing he hasn't said before. he's just never lunged at me before."

luke leans over to kiss y/n's forehead, before talking back to their swords. he was going to put them away, with the other dull fighting swords, but y/n's voice stops his movements.

"thank you," luke turns to the girl, "you've saved me a lot from corey, and i've never really told you thank you."

"what are friends for?"

luke's words hurt y/n, not on purpose. y/n can't help but see luke differently recently. she wasn't sure if he grew into his looks, or maybe it was just her hormones messing with her, but she started falling for luke castellan.

"you okay?" luke walks back over to the girl.

she only nods, "yeah, yes i'm okay."

luke notices the shake in her voice and her emotions changing from one to another.

"are you sure?" luke's hands rubs up and down her shoulders.

y/n only nods again, but after a moment her eyes drift down to his lips subconsciously.

luke noticed.

the boy smirks slightly, making y/n confused.

"you look like you want to kiss me."

y/n's cheeks change to the brightest shade of red, and she immediately starts shaking her head.

"no! no, no that's ridiculous," she denies

"what if i said i want to kiss you too?"

y/n's breath catches in her throat. she must've heard luke wrong.

her thought was disproved when luke leaned in slightly. he stopped, wanting to make sure y/n wanted this just as much as he did. the girl simply pulls luke to her by his neck. a small groan emits his lips once they connect with hers.

the kiss was full of force, and pent up emotions. they could both tell, and they knew how long they needed this kiss to happen.

"you guys done sucking face?"

luke and y/n break apart at clarisse's voice.

"we need the arena to practice," she states, motioning to a few of the ares sisters behind her.

"yeah uh," luke coughs, "we'll go."

and with that, he pulls a very giddy y/n out of the arena and toward the direction of his cabin.

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x poseidon!reader #luke castellan x poseidon reader #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo show #pjo tv #pjo series

933 notes · View notes

starryhutcherson · 6 months ago

Text

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones.

It’s no different today.

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils.

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it.

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you.

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom.

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is.

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.”

Mike scoffs.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.”

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas.

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything.

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.”

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation.

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air.

“If anything happens, call me.”

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream.

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that.

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.”

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out.

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity.

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild.

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so.

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you.

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode.

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this.

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly.

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat.

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks.

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble.

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.”

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.”

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth.

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.”

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!”

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house.

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!”

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!”

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is.

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in.

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it.

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.”

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle.

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him.

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.”

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down.

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak.

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever.

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face.

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up.

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you.

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you.

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking.

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed.

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you.

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so.

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter.

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon.

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing.

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to.

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud.

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities.

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be.

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink.

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples.

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him.

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton.

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor.

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his.

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you.

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge.

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps.

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you.

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body.

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly.

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch.

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes.

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently.

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw.

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless.

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach.

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you.

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute.

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him.

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it.

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does.

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins.

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you.

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same.

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it.

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake.

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls.

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well.

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace.

He’s found his new familiar.

masterlist

✩‧₊

#mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #peeta mellark smut #hunger games #michael schmidt #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson angst #josh hutcherson fluff

635 notes · View notes

earthtooz · 2 years ago

Text

x : ABUNDANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: rin doesn’t know when to stop spoiling you and you don't know how to stop him either.

warnings: rich pro-athlete!rin, gn!reader- reader wears lip gloss and perfume but i am an avid believer that they are gn, rin is dramatic (tm), fluff, swearing. 1.6k wc

a/n: rin is a clown in my eyes LMFAO no but this was kinda self-indulgent and i just can't stray too far from itoshi rin before he inevitably pulls me back. haven't written anything for him in a while so it feels good to be back to my roots. also no i'm not off break lol i did say that i was still gonna write and come back to post hehe. ENJOY!! rbs appreciated !!

itoshi rin doesn’t know when to stop spoiling you.

and you didn’t know how to get him to stop spoiling you. you could never resist his presents no matter what shape or size, whether they were little nendoroids of your favourite anime characters to the latest designer bags, you would always accept them with a grateful smile.

however, there’s always a tug of guilt at your chest that makes you little hesitant, not wanting rin to waste unnecessary money on you. yet whenever you make this feeling known to rin, he scoffs and waves your concerns off, ending the conversation there as he urges you to open his presents, more concerned about your reaction than how much money is being extracted from his account.

what’s the point of money if he can’t spoil you with it? that’s always been his philosophy. besides, it’s not like you’re forcing him to, so what’s the big deal?

if there was a certain brand of perfume you wanted, he was going to buy it. if you needed a bigger monitor then he’ll buy it. if you needed a streaming platform to watch a certain show on then he’d buy it too, not a problem. in fact, you’re sure rin is funding the spotify premium for your account because he got tired of all the ads he had to listen to when sharing headphones with you.

despite rin’s insistence that he was more than okay to spend money on you, it didn’t stop the growing feeling of guilt festering in your gut. so eventually you stopped bringing up things you wanted to buy in front of rin, leaving to write them down in your notes app instead.

the pro-athlete doesn’t question the abrupt lack of complaints about things you needed to buy, leaving him blissfully unaware of the things you had been buying for yourself and him.

this dance continues for a little and it’s not until date night three weeks later that he figures you out. you never stood a chance against rin’s perceptiveness especially when one of his favourite things to do was watch you get ready for said date nights, leaving it only a matter of time before he’d realise,

“looking gorgeous as always,” he compliments whilst walking up to stand behind you, dressed handsomely in a crisp suit with his hair swept sideways- a hairstyle he began to wore more often when he realised how often you stared at him during a boring sponsorship event which turned out a lot more eventful thanks to the simple hair change.

you smile at him in the mirror as rin places a kiss on the side of your head, hand going to your hip before situating himself on the bed, glancing down at his watch to check that you were still on time for the dinner reservation.

when he looks back up at you, his eyes zero in on the foreign lipgloss you were holding in your hands and the small smile rin wore falls into a scowl. rin knows he didn’t get that for you, and judging from the sleekness of the packaging, it looks new. he withholds his suspicions, brushing them off.

alarms blare in rin’s head again when he notices the foreign highlighter in your hands. contrarily, you remain ignorant to rin’s inquisitive stare as you lean in close to the mirror to apply the product, too used to the usual intensity of his gaze to bat an eye.

the last straw is the perfume you use, spritzing it on your wrists, behind your ears and neck, doing a little fanning motion with your hands once you were done.

“okay, i’m ready, let’s go before we’re lat-” you say, turning around to look at rin, cutting yourself off when you notice the look of distraught on his face. “what’s the matter?”

walking over to where he sat, you leisurely lay your forearms on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek whilst doing so. the smell of your foreign perfume enters his nose and although it was a very nice and charming scent, the athlete’s nose scrunches in displeasure, eyebrows furrowing further.

“do i have something on my face?” you ask, backing away. rin grabs your hands before you can stray too far.

“no, not that,” he puts your hands on his shoulders again. “did you always have this lipgloss? and i don’t recognise this perfume.”

“oh, i bought it not too long ago.”

he looks at you as though you’ve committed the most blasphemous offence against him, which, you did. “excuse me?”

“i bought it?” you reaffirm, a lilt of confusion in your tone.

rin narrows his eyes, combating your confusion with scrutiny. “you bought it.” you nod. “with your own money?”

“duh.”

he exhales loudly through his nose and you can feel the judgement oozing off him. “no that’s not right. i have to fix this.”

abruptly swapping your positions so that you were now sitting on the bed, rin disappears into the bathroom, emerging with a pack of makeup removers before sifting through your numerous products, that look of concentration never leaving his face.

“we’re gonna be late, rin,” you say from where he planted you, watching helplessly as your boyfriend approaches to stand in front of you, crouching down to be eye level with you. rin takes out a wipe from the packet before gently rubbing it on your lips, touch contrastingly gentle to his fiery gaze.

“don’t care. this is more important.”

rin fiddles with the highlighter that he bought for you, opening it cautiously and using the same brush you always use as he carefully paints your skin with the glitter. it amazes you just how observant rin is as he traces all the spots correctly, knowing you down to of the most insignificant, tiny details.

he does the same with the lip gloss, opening the familiar bottle before putting a luxurious amount of the product over your lips. you don’t complain about it, not when rin’s nose scrunches in concentration and not when he makes a disgruntled noise because he overlined the lip gloss, wiping it from the corner of your mouth.

nevertheless, when rin pulls away, he admires his handiwork with a content grin, the scowl now fading. “much better,” he mumbles, grinning slightly. before you could say anything though, the athlete stumbles away to put your makeup away, returning with a bottle of perfume that he also bought for you.

“do not spray that on me. the scents will clash,” you threaten. rin blinks at you before grabbing your wrist, spritzing a small amount before repeating the same step on your other pulse points.

his actions were sweet and you understood that rin had good intentions, but through the endearment you felt for your lover, there is an undeniable feeling of dejection settling within you. “i liked the products that i bought,” you murmur, tone slightly downcast as you express your thoughts. “i like using my own money sometimes too, rin.”

the smile rin wore falls ever so slightly as he looks at your somewhat-dejected form, crouching in front of you instinctively as to get a better glance at your face.

“i feel horrible whenever you use your money on me. especially on things that are way too expensive and way out of my budget. i don’t want people- i don’t want you to get the wrong idea of us,” you confess the last part breathily, rubbing your arms awkwardly. “and i hate feeling like i owe something to you.”

“hey, you know that will never happen, we’re not like that,” he rubs a hand on your knee reassuringly. “i buy things for you because i know, and don’t talk about this lukewarm shit about ‘owing’ me. if anything i owe you for putting up with me.”

you let his words sink in with a sigh, focusing on the warmth of rin’s palm.

“and i also buy things for you because you only deserve the best. none of that mediocre crap that anybody can buy.”

“but what if i like the ‘lukewarm shit’?”

“then you need better tastes, but i guess i have no choice but to buy it for you.” he stands up ever so slightly to kiss you.

you back away, cutting him off with a press of your finger against his lips. “rin. no.”

he gives you a withering glare for denying his affection.

“that’s not the point. as much as i love and appreciate it when you do buy things for me, i would also appreciate it if you let me use my own money too.”

the soccer player backs away, eyes scanning your expression to decide on what to say next. he sighs when he sees the determination in your face and like a dam giving out, it’s the first sign of rin’s stubbornness surrendering to your pleas. “fine, i’ll respect your choice, but it doesn’t mean that i like it.”

you grin, pulling him back in for the kiss he wanted earlier, catching rin off guard briefly before his shock subsides, letting him melt right into you. your lipgloss was now effectively ruined but you didn’t have it in you to care much. rin could always reapply it for you.

“but i’m paying for dinner,” he asserts against your mouth.

“deal.”

you return home tomorrow to see the same products you bought for yourself on your shared bed. except brand new and still in their sleek packages.

what were you going to do with rin?

#personally i'm abt to make out with him- what... who said that... anyways... hope u enjoyed !!#sorry if this fic isn't coherent #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you #rin itoshi x you #blue lock rin #itoshi x reader #blue lock itoshi rin #itoshi rin drabble #itoshi rin #itoshi rin bllk #blue lock

5K notes · View notes

eternalsams · 18 days ago

Text

The Other Woman ➺ R.LeBeau 'Gambit'

pairing: '97!Gambit x fem mutant!reader

warning/content: angst, jealousy, oblivious Gambit, best friends to lovers?, love confession, Remy talks french, Gambit is said taller than reader, no description of reader's powers, I swear I love Rogue with all my heart

summary: you're so in love with Gambit it hurts, but it hurts more seeing him run after a girl who can't decide if she wants him or not

word count: 2.1k

a/n: English isn't my first language so please take that into consideration. This is my first time writing for Gambit, or for the x-men in general, I'm doing my best writing their characters.

main masterlist

Giggles were heard in the corridors of the school and you sighed. A Cajun accented voice reached your ears and a sad smile stretched your lips. You flipped the pages of the paper you were reading and heard your two friends walk into the kitchen. Remy noticed you first and walked up to you before kissing the top of your head. "Good morning, ma jolie." You smiled up at him and waved at Rogue with a smile. You didn't know what he had said to her but you could see she was still trying to hold in her laughter. "What's so funny?" You asked before sipping your coffee, looking between your two friends. "You wouldn't get it." Rogue chuckled before pouring herself a cup of coffee. You noticed Remy biting a smile and looking down at his feet before he went to grab the cream for Rogue's coffee.

You brushed it off with a shake of your head and finished your drink before leaving the empty cup in the sink. You smiled at Remy on your way out and swallowed the uncomfortable feeling creeping up your throat. Your eyes burned with fresh tears as you joined your room to change and your heart was beating fast and hard against your chest. You loved Gambit with your whole being, feeling like you could die, kill, for him. But for a few months already, you noticed his attention was caught by the pretty red head with deadly touch. You'd be lying if you said you didn't understand the attraction he held for her. She was beautiful, smart, funny and so strong. You knew that if she could take off those gloves and take Remy's hands in hers, they'd be going on real dates and in a few years you'd be standing next to him at the altar, watching him marry the beauty.

You then joined the danger room, ready for your training with Logan and Morph, the two of them being the best adversaries you could ask for. You opened the door, finding Logan and Morph already fighting. You smiled and decided to leave your feelings for Remy out of the room and focus on the training. Morph noticed you and waved you over, earning them a blow from a chuckling Logan who took advantage of their distraction. You jumped into the fight and used your powers on them, trying your best to dodge the different attacks from the two mutants. You managed to push Logan on the floor, and struggled to maintain the wild force still as you fought with Morph, the mutant taking your own appearance and using your powers against yours.

You didn't know how long you spent in the room but you managed to forget about Remy and Rogue for a moment, having fun with your friends. That until you slipped out of the room and fell face to face with Gambit, smiling widely at you. But no Rogue in sight this time. "Ma jolie! I didn't know you were on the schedule this morning." He said before looking over your shoulder and noticing both Logan and Morph behind you. He slightly frowned but his smile never faltered. "Come on, guys. Don't you think it's a little bit unfair against the lady here?" He chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You forced a smile and saw Morph grimace while Logan only walked past the both of you. "Don't worry, Gumbo. She can defend herself pretty well." And with that, he disappeared in the hallways, leaving the three friends alone. Gambit laughed at the nickname and looked down at you, his red irises piercing your more natural looking ones. "Who are you training with today?" You asked, waiting for Rogue's name to fall out of Remy's lips. "I'm alone this morning. Wanna practice my aim without being distracted." He smirked before stepping around you and opening the door. No Rogue? You exchanged a look with Morph who only shrugged before waving you off and leaving to go take a shower.

"Do you mind if I join you in a bit?" You asked, wanting to get a little bit of alone time with him. You missed your best friend. Gambit's lips stretched with a grin and his eyes squinted with joy. "I'd love to, ma jolie." Oh, how you loved when he called you that. He once told you it meant darling, but you got curious and searched it up. For years, Remy was calling you my lovely and you had no idea. Your cheeks flushed with a deep red color and you never mentioned it to him, only appreciating the term of endearment he got used to call you with.

You smiled at Gambit and left him train alone for a bit, doing your best to not rush into the danger room before Rogue could ever have the chance. About an hour later, you joined Remy into the room where he was catching his breath, multiples sentinels defeated on the holographic floor. "Ready for round two?" You asked, planting your hands on your hips and watching him straighten up. You nervously swallowed as he looked down at you, his tall frame dominating your smaller one. His uneven breaths were making it hard for you to focus on something else than his parted lips. But you managed to pull your gaze away, instead looking deep into his dark eyes. Those same eyes that cost him his family and a normal life, as normal as a mutant could ask for. Those same eyes you found yourself falling for every time they looked in your direction. You were about to say something when you heard the door open behind you. "There you are, sugar!" Rogue's southern accent rang through the room. Your smile faltered as Remy's widened, walking past you to join the red head. You turned to the duo and hid your grimace the best you could. "You don't mind if I tag along, do you?" She asked you with a charming smile. And how could you say no when Remy was looking at you the way he was right now? His eyes were practically begging you to accept.

"I don't mind, the more the merrier." You smiled at them and cracked your knuckles before stretching your muscles, getting ready for training. The surroundings changed and now showed a deep forest with tall trees all around you. You could smell the fresh grass, still wet from a rainy night. You looked up and saw some birds flying among the branches. "So, sugar. What did you choose to train on?" Rogue asked Gambit as you all looked around, in search of the enemy. "He should show up any time now." Gambit said as he charged his staff with his kinetic energy before he slammed it to the ground to reach a tree branch where he perched. A man's voice echoed in the forest and Gambit smiled as he looked in the direction of the voice. "There he is." He announced before a flash of red and purple passed in front of you.

You watched Rogue's eyes widen and Gambit jumped down from his perch to land right between you and Rogue. "Team work, ladies." Gambit called before running to Magneto, sending the attack. You followed right after him, using your powers to dodge what the older mutant was sending in your direction and helped Gambit reach a higher point to attack the enemy. Rogue took a bit longer before joining you and you noticed she was holding back when punching. You didn't really know why but guessed she didn't want to harm any of you by accident.

After almost an hour of training, you finally noticed a weakness and you could finish it off if only the three of you attacked at the same time. You shared a look with Remy who nodded, getting your idea. You sent a look to Rogue who also nodded and when both you and Gambit jumped on Magneto, Rogue missed her attack and the two of you were sent back, colliding harshly on the ground. Remy wrapped his arms around your body as you rolled on the ground, protecting you. When you finally stopped, the illusion around you faded and you caught your breath, wincing slightly as your whole body hurt. Gambit got off of you and helped you get up as Rogue ran to you. "Are you okay?" You sighed at her question and turned to her, frowning in anger. "What was that? You could've gotten us seriously hurt!" You exclaimed and you could see she felt guilty for what happened but Remy's hand on your shoulder surprised you. "Come on, it was an accident, ma jolie." His smooth tone and cute nickname for you didn't soothe you, quite the contrary. "We could've had him! If only you followed the movement. What next? You're gonna do the same on an actual mission? Leave us hanging and hurt? Or worse, dead?" You pushed Remy's hand off your shoulder and stepped towards Rogue who stuttered. Gambit called your name but you only saw red, not hearing his voice. You pushed Rogue who stumbled back and Gambit's body slid between the two of you. "That's enough!" He pushed you off her. You snapped back to reality and looked up at him, surprised.

You silently pleaded for him not to choose her but he didn't back off. You sighed and left the danger room, furious and heartbroken. You took the stairs to the first floor and locked yourself in your room, stripping out of your suit and grabbed regular clothes before screaming out your frustration and pain. The anger had your powers make some mess in your room but you couldn't care less. Three knocks at your door pulled you out of your thoughts and you were about to open when you heard his voice. "Ma jolie? Can we talk please?" You sighed and leaned on the door, silent tears running down your face. "I know you're listening, darling. Please open the door." You did as he asked, unable to refuse him anything. Once he noticed your crying eyes, he felt his heart clench. "Oh, ma jolie..." He sighed, stepping into your room and closing the door behind him. Once it was done, he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly as you cried against him. "What's wrong, ma jolie? You never reacted like this before, you scared me."

"I can't deal with her anymore, I just can't..." You whispered, still snuggled into Remy's arms, scared he might disappeared to meet her once again. "Who, Rogue?" He frowned, not knowing what the problem was between the two of you. Things got a little heated in the danger room today but before that, everything was fine. "She's always there, I can't have a single moment with you anymore. I feel like I'm losing you." You confessed, some of the weight on your heart lifting up. "Oh, darling. You're not losing me, I can promise you that. She's not replacing you, ever. She's got another place in my heart than you." And that's what scared you the most, she had the best, the biggest place in his heart. The place you forever wanted. "Why are you so scared of her taking your place?" He then asked, pulling back from your embrace and looking down into your eyes.

"Because I love you." You murmured, looking deep into his demon-like eyes. As tempting as the devil himself. He raised his eyebrows, surprised. "What did you just say?" His arms slipped from your waist, only his fingers now ghosted over your body. "I love you, Remy. I've been falling in love with you for years and it hurts. You have no idea how much it hurts to see you chase after her when she can't pull herself to pick you. I picked you. I always did and will always do." You hiccupped a sob and shrugged your shoulders in defeat. "It's alright if you don't reciprocate my feelings, I can live with that, I have been for years now. But don't keep me around when you're courting her, my heart can't handle it." You added with a sad smile, leaving Remy speechless. You loved him? You have for years? "I... Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asked and you frowned, feeling like the answer was pretty obvious. "You're my best friend, Remy. I couldn't ruin that."

"But I loved you." He sighed, vulnerability deeply anchored in his eyes as your heart clenched at his words.

#gambit #remy lebeau #xmen #x men #x-men #xmen 97 #remy lebeau x reader #gambit x reader #gambit x rogue #x men 97 #x-men 97 #rogue #gambit x you #remy lebeau x you #x men fanfic #angst #best friends to lovers #jealousy

166 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 9 months ago

Text

The Knight & The Judge

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination and humiliation kink, description of physical and mental disabilities, prejudices against disabled people, aggressive behavior, violence, swearing, trauma, mention of an accident with fatalities ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

On that day it seemed to him that the whole world had turned against him. His coffee machine had broken down, there was more traffic than usual on the roads, he was sure he would be late for work, and his brother had woken up in a mood worse than always and cried all the way to the centre.

"I don't want to go there. I-I'm scared of some of those kids." He muttered under his breath, swallowing loudly, whooping with tears. He looked at him in the mirror, feeling a squeeze in his throat every morning when he left him there, but saw no other alternative.

He still hadn't recovered mentally after what had happened five years ago and, according to his psychiatrist, he wasn't ready to attend a normal school until he gained more confidence.

He did not want to force him to listen to unpleasant comments, however, he felt uncomfortable himself.

The centre was huge, classes were taught in different groups of matched children, however, there were times when Daeron encountered kids with a spectrum of disabilities other than physical and was simply afraid of them.

He tried to explain it to him, but how was a child supposed to understand these complicated, sometimes even uncontrollable behaviours and screams?

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, turning on the right indicator with his hand, driving into the car park of the building where he would leave him for the time he spent at work, during which he studied and had various extra classes with children with problems similar to his.

However, was he to surround himself all his life only with children who had mobility problems, who had no arms or legs, who suffered from paresis or lack of feeling in their limbs?

Every time he thought about it he wanted to cry.

He turned off the engine, staring dully ahead, hearing his mother's screams again in the background of his mind as his father fainted behind the wheel and drove off the road into the other lane – he felt once again that hard crash with the big truck coming from the opposite direction that crushed them.

They were only alive because they were in the back seats at the time, Daeron, however, was not as lucky as he was.

Compared to what happened to his younger brother, the glass that smashed into the left side of his face was nothing.

"Mrs Thomson said you can't spend all day at home doing one-to-one tuition. You have to see other children." He calmly repeated the formula he said whenever such a situation arose, opening his door, heading for the boot of his big black SUV – the car dealership had told him it was the safest and biggest model they had.

He took out the small wheelchair that had been put together and unfolded it, driving it closer, to the back seat where his brother sat, opening it – he looked away, unable to watch his brother's weeping face.

"I'm already late for work. Please. I promise we'll play FIFA' 23 together when we get back. Hm?" He muttered, and Daeron nodded, pale, breathing loudly, using his hands to move slowly towards the wheelchair onto which he shifted the weight of his body, hissing loudly as he lifted his legs onto the special supports.

The bones of his little legs had been simply crushed then – he continued to grow, the rehabilitation was hard and caused him great pain.

He would have preferred it to be him who suffered like this and not an innocent child, but God, who he wasn't sure he still believed in despite the deep faith his mother had always instilled in him, decided otherwise.

He closed the car and moved with him to the main entrance, pushing his wheelchair forward. When they got inside they were greeted by a lady they knew very well, several of his friends waved to Daeron, one of them was paralysed from the waist down, the other was missing one arm.

He swallowed loudly, thinking that his brother had to watch someone else's misfortune every day, himself for sure feeling like a cripple, like someone defective, someone who was a burden, even though he loved him the most in the world.

The cruelty of the situation left him with a clenched throat, so he would usually only throw him a few words to say goodbye, stroke his head and leave, only by the car tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, his healthy eye burning from the moisture that gathered under his eyelids.

As he always did in moments of breakdown, he started the engine, selected the number of his sister phone on the display under his dashboard and, turning on loudspeaker mode, started backing his car as he tried to drive out of the car park and drove ahead towards the national prosecutor's office.

"Hello? Aemond, did something happen?"

He heard Helaena's soft, sleepy voice. He knew she was still doing overtime as a doctor, overworking herself as much as he was and thought that he had woken her up after the night shift.

He felt remorse for not being able to handle it himself, although she always reassured him that she would always help him as best she could.

She got Daeron the best possible physiotherapist so that he was even able to take a few steps in the last month while holding on to his supports, however it still caused him great pain, the doctors said his bones would continue to hurt as long as he grew.

Perpetual undeserved suffering.

"I don't know what to do anymore. He says he is afraid of some of the children, those with intellectual disabilities. I know it's cruel, but fuck, I'd be scared of some of them too. Do they have to see each other in the same building, pass each other in the corridor? Shouldn't they be separated somehow?"

"God, Aemond, they're not animals. After all, they're children too." She said with sadness and resentment – he clenched his eye, sighing impatiently, trying to focus on the road again, tense.

"I know. I know. I really feel for them, but it's bad for his psyche. He recently asked me if he was normal, if he too would start shouting and babbling like them. That sometimes they are aggressive and the carers have to drag them away from him and his friends."

"It's horrible. Maybe he really should go there less often?" She asked sighing quietly, he heard her rise up on the bed with a quiet creak of the mattress.

"And what, he's going to sit at home with some boring old teacher? How will I know that no harm comes to him in my absence?" He asked resignedly, hearing silence on the other side for some time.

"Maybe find someone who won't be very distant in age. Someone who won't just teach him, but play with him and spend time with him. Someone old enough to be responsible for him and at the same time young enough not to feel so distant. Someone joyful." She replied, and he rolled his eyes as he drove into the underground car park of his office building.

"Joyful? I am supposed to pay someone to be joyful?" He sneered, shaking his head, his sister sighed again.

"He needs it, Aemond. We're all tired, and he's a child."

He hung up after a few minutes of further discussion, telling her he had to go, grabbed the case folders he'd just brought in and headed for the underground lift. He pressed the button showing the floor he wanted to move to when a woman's hand stopped the sliding doors, which opened a moment later.

Alys smiled broadly at him as she stepped inside with a confident stride – her high black heels emphasised how slender and long her legs were, her fitted, waist high pencil trousers and black blazer with a beautiful white shirt underneath highlighted both her confidence and her attractiveness.

He remembered the last few times the thrusts of his hips had pushed her into her desk, bent over and helpless, with firm, wide buttocks on which he tightened his fingers as he panted heavily, watching what he was doing to her, rooting into her again and again, thinking with mockery and amusement how easy it was to make a mere whore out of such a proud woman.

"Good morning, Mr Prosecutor." She said softly, contentment and calmness on her face, several of their intense close-ups had clearly left an intense mark in her, not just physical.

She liked the violent and determined ones, he knew that – she hid her age well and apparently decided that this was the last moment in her life when she could reach for what she wanted.

"Good morning, Miss Rivers." He replied calmly, uninterested in her ambiguous look, apparently suggesting that she wouldn't mind if what happened between them was repeated a few more times.

He was all about the sex. He was frustrated in this aspect – his artificial eye, although perfectly colour-matched to the other and the still clearly visible scar from where the glass pierced in, were a source of his complexes and shame.

He knew that no matter how perfect a professional he was, it was his appearance that made the first impression.

In the courtroom he still struggled to be taken seriously so much so that his cold, calculating, ruthless nature began to frighten some – his judgement and questioning was harsh and lacking in compassion.

He knew exactly what he wanted and strove to get it.

He preferred them to fear him rather than pity him.

His superiors quickly appreciated how skilful a lawyer he was and his ability to bring cases to an end and push whoever he needed to, hence he quickly moved to the National Prosecutor's Office, where more responsibilities and more money awaited him, which he could spend on Daeron's rehabilitation.

As he sat over the files he thought hard about what his sister had told him and decided that he would install CCTV in the house and then hire someone on a trial basis to see if it made sense.

He put up an anonymous job ad not wanting anyone to recognise him, described briefly his broad expectations and his rate per hour.

It turned out that dozens of people responded to his ad, just as he suspected attracted by the sum he had quoted, but he didn't know how he was supposed to sort them to choose the ones that seemed best to him. He began to read their answers, figuring that already from them he could deduce what types of personalities they were.

I am interested. My phone number is below.

Reject, he thought, clicking the red button informing the message sender that his offer was not accepted, and began to scroll further.

I am a carer with 10 years of experience. I have already cared for 14-year-old Mike with cerebral palsy, Adam with….

Reject, he clicked again.

He had no intention of making his home a second centre for the disabled.

He felt frustration and rage when he found that most of the messages were similar and just as empty in their tone, nothing convinced him about these people.

He knew Daeron wouldn't want to stay with them, and neither would he.

He stopped at one of the messages that looked completely different and blinked.

Good morning! I saw your ad and thought I would speak up. I'm a student, I'm studying costume design at the Faculty of Fine Arts. I'm looking for a casual job and I really enjoy working with children, I teach dressmaking as part of the teaching section of my university classes. I think that helping your brother with his studies at primary school level would be no problem for me at all, and I would also be happy to come up with different extra-curricular activities with him. Even if you decide not to hire me, I would like to sew your brother a costume of his favourite super hero, without any payment of course. You would just have to give me his measurements. I don't think anything makes kids his age happier!!! My warmest regards and I am sending my email below.

He looked at her message not too sure how he felt, at the same time being impressed, on the other hand feeling the seed of uncertainty and extreme caution characteristic of him when it came to his approach to newly met people.

What if this was a psychological tactic to make him believe her to be innocent and unselfish? To make him subconsciously choose her because she was the only one offering him something for free? If it was just her free promotion?

He chose two people reluctantly, but kept coming back to her message, trying to imagine her, seeing some crazy painting student looking like a hippie.

Maybe this was just what he needed? He thought with regret and sighed heavily, opening a new window in his inbox, writing her a short, brief email to appear at their house in a few days' time.

He was going to interrogate her.

The young man before her immediately made him uneasy – he had the impression that he smelled weed from him even though he had taken a shower, so he must have been smoking like crazy, and he had no intention of letting anyone who might encourage him to use any stimulants look after his brother.

The other girl was very frightened – his questions clearly startled her and made her uncomfortable, it frustrated him that she was barely able to make a sound. He thought she had something to hide, that people who have a clear conscience don't behave this way.

He thought with resignation that all he had left was a mad artist.

He sighed heavily as he heard the bell ring suggesting that someone was standing outside the gate. He walked over to the intercom and opened it, seeing in the small monitor a petite girl with dark, slightly wavy hair tied up in a ponytail.

He thought in disbelief that she was dressed for a job interview in a white turtleneck, dungarees and trainers, a fabric floral back on her back.

What the fuck, he thought, opening her door with a cold, indifferent expression on his face.

"Good afternoon." She said softly, a wide smile on her face. Before she walked in she wiped her shoes on the doormat, which pleased him. When she came inside she wanted to take off her trainers – he looked at her surprised, thinking she must be crazy.

"No, you don't have to. You can stay in your shoes." He said lowly, pointing towards the armchair, indicating to her with his hand the seat on the couch next to him.

She sat down in the seat he showed her, looking boldly straight into his eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

She was clearly a tad nervous after all, he thought, musing for a moment that she had incredibly long, dark eyelashes.

"Do you have experience in working with children?" He asked immediately; she blinked and corrected herself in her seat, as if prepared for the question.

"Only in terms of working with them in sewing workshops." She answered simply, without any further explanation, which pleased him.

She was letting him draw his own conclusions, rather than imposing them on him so as to present herself in the most favourable light.

"My brother has mobility problems. How do you imagine helping him, for example, if he needs to go to the bathroom?"

"I think he's old enough that he can tell me himself what he'll need help with and what he won't, and what he'll feel comfortable for me to help him with and when he'll want me to leave." She said without thinking, shrugging her shoulders as if it was obvious. He squinted, intrigued that she was allowing herself to say unthoughtful things in front of him, as if she wasn't afraid of the consequences they might bring.

"And your studies? How will you have so much time to come here?"

"From what I understand, I would be expected to turn up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from eight in the morning until sixteen. I have practice classes then, the costumes I'm sewing I can bring with me and finish them while he's eating or watching something, maybe he'll even like it and want to practice with me?"

"What will you do if I don't hire you?" He asked dryly and she looked at him surprised, a light smile on her face indicating that his words didn't worry her.

"Then I will continue to work in the café. But my words about the superhero costume stand. Even if I can't work for you, sir, I would like to meet him and give him something. Children can be so brave." She said softly with sincere, bright joy and some kind of pride, as if Daeron was her brother and not his, something in her innocence, something in her attitude endeared him.

He could smell a lie a mile away, she wouldn't be able to pretend so well even if she were an actress.

These reactions were natural, she was saying exactly what she was thinking about.

"I will contact you once I have made my decision." He said indifferently, getting up from his seat and pointing with his hand towards the exit, suggesting that their conversation was over.

She stood up and smiled, undaunted by his behaviour or the length of their conversation. Both of them flinched when Daeron appeared in the living room, pushing the wheels of his wheelchair with a light flick of his hand.

"Good afternoon. Who is this lady?" His younger brother asked him, obvious curiosity on his face. He swallowed loudly and glanced at her – she answered nothing but waved at him vigorously, Daeron smiled shyly and waved her back, embarrassed.

"No one. I needed to talk to her." He replied, opening the door for her. She said a polite goodbye to him and his brother, waving at him once more, Daeron waved her back again, looking at him with questioning eyes as he closed it.

"I like her. She seems fun."

With no other choice, he decided he would give her a chance.

The first day she was to be left alone with Daeron he was all nerves despite the fact that his little brother hadn't seemed this excited to him in many years. He told him about his toys and the cartoons he was going to show her.

"First the lessons. Then two hours to play and free time." He replied dryly, tense, glancing at his watch, thinking with rage that she only had fifteen minutes left, that she was sure to be late or not come and leave him in the lurch when he had already cancelled his presence at the centre's classes.

They both flinched when they heard the bell ring; Daeron said, moving briskly forward in his wheelchair that he wanted to open for her and indeed, after a moment the girl he had hired appeared on the doorstep of their house, smiling and content – her cheeks flushed again, her dark hair loose, pleasantly framing her bright face, on her body only a black top and tracksuit shorts as it was a sunny, warm spring morning.

"Good morning, Daeron, nice to meet you!" She said with fondness and satisfaction in her voice, extending her hand in front of her, which his brother shook confidently. Daeron moved ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Come, I'll show you my room. I'll explain everything to you." He said, rolling his wheelchair up to the door, which was located on the ground floor of their house so that he could move around easily. The girl nodded, pulling her trainers off her feet, saying that she will come to him in a minute.

He took the opportunity to walk up to her, towering over her, and she threw him a quick surprised look.

He thought her eyes seemed even bigger than before, he wasn't sure if they were blue or green, both colours blending into one.

"You are to take care of him. I want you to go through all the material that was prepared for today. Only two hours of free time, no more. Behave responsibly and only call if it's really urgent or if something happens to him." He said matter-of-factly, and she swallowed quietly, nodding quickly, clearly horrified by how close he stood and how cold his voice was.

Good, he thought.

He wanted her to be afraid of the consequences of her actions.

He sat in the office all day terrified, stressed and unsure, trying to focus on the file in front of him, while involuntarily still glancing at his phone, checking to see if she might have called him.

Was everything okay? What if something had happened but she was afraid to call him? Maybe he should go home and test her, see what was going on?

He thought he would go mad if he didn't, so he left work an hour early – Alys threw something at him as he walked past her, probably something about a meeting or an evening out together, but he didn't answer her, heading for the stairs and the underground car park.

He drove forward, trying to calm himself down, thinking about how oversensitive he was, that surely everything was fine.

He pulled up in front of their house hearing music in the distance, wondering if any of the neighbours were having a party outside at this hour.

However, as he pressed the key to the gate and it slowly swung open he saw in disbelief the girl he had hired riding with lightness and grace on roller skates in his driveway to the tune of the Scissor Sisters song Don't Feel Like Dancin. Daeron laughed out loud, spinning beside her in his wheelchair, both of them wearing elbow and knee pads, in addition to his little brother wearing a bike helmet on his head.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He got out of the car, furiously slamming the door, his brother wheeled up to him briskly, his companion spinning slowly around them on roller skates – she raised her eyebrows with a smile, seeing the look on his face and waved at him.

"Look how well I dance, brother!" Exclaimed Daeron, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair around his own axis again.

He, however, instead of looking at him grabbed aggressively the arm of his carer who was doing another spin – she nearly fell over because of his tug and caught him abruptly by his jacket in an attempt to catch her balance.

"Ah!"

"What the fuck are you doing? Is this what I pay you for?" He growled and shook her hard. She stared at him with wide-open eyes, her lips slightly parted in accelerated breathing from fear, her face red from exertion, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.

"Let me go, sir. I will not speak to you like this." She said warningly, her brow furrowed. He pressed his lips together noticing that something had changed in her gaze, suddenly confident and angry, ready to fight if necessary.

He felt that look in his trousers, he'd never had the urge to slap a woman's ass as hard as hers before.

He glanced at his brother, who was looking at him in horror, only realising after a moment that the song had long since ended and there was a tense, awkward silence around them.

He let go of her arm, seeing with satisfaction that he had left a bruise on her skin in the shape of his fingers – she massaged at the spot, furrowing her brow.

"You're fired. You're irresponsible. Good thing I came back earlier." He said with mockery and fury, walking over to his brother, unbuckling the helmet he wore on his head. Daeron burst into a loud, uncontrollable sob.

"I don't want to. I don't want to, I don't want to go back there, I want to stay with her. It's my fault, I told her I wanted to dance, please, please, please, I want her to stay, I don't want to go back there." He babbled, running his hands over his shoulders in some helpless, childish pleading gesture from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze fixed on his little brother, sad and resigned – she was leaning over, untying the laces of the roller skates that had once belonged to his sister.

"Something could have happened to you. You could have fallen over and hit your head on the ground." He replied coldly, kneeling in front of him, unbuckling his knee pads.

"But I had a helmet on my head. After all, normal boys fall off bikes and stairs and they're fine! Nothing would have happened if I'd bruised myself a bit, I'm not made of glass!" He burst out suddenly with a fury he had never seen in him before, burying his little face in his hands, all red from tears and despair.

"I won't go back there, I won't go there tomorrow, if she doesn't stay, never, never again, I'd rather kill myself!" He whined out loud, falling into another attack of hysteria in recent months – he had trouble catching his breath, his lungs were wheezing all over. He took his face in his hands, but he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at him.

God, why?

"Remember what I told you?" She asked walking up to his brother in just her socks, kneeling beside him, grasping his hand. Daeron immediately fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes.

"That boy who calls you Quasimodo is just mean. You are my Phoebus, you have his beautiful hair, humour and valour. I'll sew us costumes and we'll go to the carnival ball together. His jaw will drop when he sees that you came with your Esmeralda. What do you say?" She asked softly, and he looked at her in disbelief, wondering if that was the reason his little brother didn't want to go there.

That boy who calls you Quasimodo.

He felt a twitch in his throat and swallowed loudly, his brother nodding quickly, drawing in air loudly, his eyes full of hope.

"Promise?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she smiled broadly, sincerely, squeezing his small hand.

"Promise."

They entered their house as his brother calmed down; he told Daeron to go to his room and leave them alone, which his brother eventually did with great reluctance, crying for a while longer, not wanting to say goodbye to her.

As soon as he heard the door close behind him at the end of the corridor he slipped his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers, took out a few banknotes and threw them on the table in front of her in a careless gesture.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He said coldly, looking her straight in the eye. He saw her lower lip twitch, the pain of humiliation in her gaze, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that such words had left his mouth.

He wasn't paying her to make a circus of herself dancing like some fucking Esmeralda, exposing his brother to danger and injury.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and trembled with rage as she took the money and tossed it in his direction, the banknotes flying scattered around his feet.

"You could dress up as Frollo for the carnival ball, sir. It would suit you." She said drily, turning away tensely – he moved behind her, feeling anger buzzing strongly in his veins at her words.

He grabbed her by the neck with an aggressive flick of his hand and slammed her back against the wall, her voice stuck in her throat in horror, her big, bright eyes open wide in disbelief.

He took a step closer to her, feeling her warm body quiver all over in his grasp, digging his fingertips deeper into her skin, finding with delight that she was obscenely soft.

"Do you have anything else to say?" He asked in a low whisper filled with threat – she shook her head quickly clearly feeling the situation was out of her control, obviously fearing if he was really going to do something to her.

"No, are you sure? I'm listening to you. Tell me something else interesting about me." He said softly, encouragingly, moving even closer to her, the tips of their noses almost touching.

He could finally get a good look at her and he found curiously that he still couldn't tell what colour her eyes were, now slightly reddened from tears of fear.

She shook her head quickly, not making a sound; all he could hear was their quickened, raspy breaths, her hand touched his wrist as if she wanted to make sure he didn't strangle her.

He was somehow delighted by how delicate, long and slender her fingers were, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his trousers at the thought.

"Look at you. So silly. Because you're a silly little girl, aren't you? You would benefit from someone teaching you a lesson. No? Then apologise and I'll let you go and pretend I never met you." He said calmly, her whole body quivering with terror.

"Never." She said quietly, and he felt involuntarily that his lips curved in a dangerous, satisfied grin, his fingers clenching tighter around her neck.

"You're asking for trouble, Esmeralda." He muttered lowly, her nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

"I will report what you are doing to the police." She said dryly and he smiled even wider, feeling her tremble all over as he leaned over her ear, his nose sinking into her soft, flower-scented hair – he closed his eyes and savoured the experience for a moment before whispering something she froze from.

"I am a prosecutor −"

Her hand clenched tighter on his wrist, a moan of despair escaping her lips, as if what he had said had really shocked her, as if she was only now realising what she had gotten herself into.

"− and I've never lost a case yet." He whispered in her ear, sliding his face lower, to her jaw and then to her neck, pressing his full lips to her skin, leaving wet, hot marks on it. He heard her draw in a loud breath.

"− w-what are you doing, sir? − no −" She whimpered, he felt her lift her arms up in a defensive gesture, trying to pull away from him, but he pressed her against the wall with his body, letting go of her neck, his erection throbbing hard in his trousers, pressing again and again against her stomach.

She felt it, a terrified cry escaped her lips as his lips pressed tightly against her neck – he began to suck painfully hard on her skin, wanting to leave her a crimson reminder of himself.

"− how did you put it? − who do I remind you of? −" He asked tauntingly, running his rough tongue over her red skin, feeling the veins pulsing rapidly under her soft, warm skin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry − please, please let me go −" She mumbled out in despair on the verge of crying, her voice trembling all over in terror, her breathing raspy and uneven, her small hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck that he wore under his jacket.

He gasped at her words, sliding his mouth lower, repeating the same process, rubbing against her with his hips – his cock was all swollen and hard, pulsing with pleasure, his hands roaming down her back, sliding at last to her buttocks where they clenched.

"− look at you − so you can be polite after all, hm? −" He asked softly, lowering the material of her tracksuit shorts a little, his large hand grasping her plump, firm buttocks and slapping it hard – she clamped her lips together, trying to hold back the whimper that squeezed its way down her throat.

"− that's what I thought − turn around and let's get this over with −" He murmured, soothingly massaging the place that was now pulsing from his slap, grinning as she did so wordlessly, tears of helplessness and fear on her cheeks.

"− please −" She muttered and he sighed softly, sliding the material of her shorts and underwear down, revealing what was underneath – she shuddered and wept quietly as the tips of his fingers ran over her swollen folds, focusing their pressure on her sweet spot hidden between them, digging into her fleshy skin in circular, calm motions.

"− shhh − this way it will be easier for both of us −" He explained in a soft tone of voice, as if he was telling her something obvious, as if it would benefit her in the future and teach her something.

He heard her shy moan full of fear, then another, a tad louder as his fingers sank more firmly into her skin. He licked his lips at the sight of the wetness that began to leak slowly from inside her and slapped his hand with a short, rough movement into the space between her thighs.

"− quiet −" He ordered, and she pressed her lips together, stifling whatever wanted to come out of them. Daeron was far away, locked in his room, but he still preferred him not to hear anything, and he didn't have the time or desire to take her upstairs to his bedroom.

This situation, her bent figure and her lovely buttocks pushed up towards him, suited him completely.

"− good girl − see? − it's not that hard −" He murmured pleased with how obedient she was despite the fear and terror from which her whole body was twitching. The confident movements of his fingers were accompanied by the louder and louder click of her moisture, her cheek pressed against the cold wall where her hands were helplessly trying to find support in this position, her eyes closed as if she just wanted to wait it out.

She opened them when she heard the sound of his zipper being opened – her lips pressed together with difficulty as he guided the fat, swollen head of his throbbing cock against her opening, leaning with his free hand against the wall just above her head, trying to force it between her tight folds with the motion of his hips.

"− wider − that's it, there you go −" He exhaled as she opened her thighs a little more and he spread her wide on his cock, feeling her muscles gave him a wonderful squeeze – he sighed loudly, surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was.

"− fuck −" He hissed out, clamping his hands on her buttocks, spreading them like a ripe fruit; she squirmed in discomfort as he forced her to take him deeper inside her, filling her so much that he felt like he was going to rip her skin apart.

"− barely fits −" He scoffed, moving his hips back and forth with a splat of her moisture dripping down her thighs – he heard her begin to pant along with him as he deliberately rubbed against her lower wall just above her very entrance, teasing the spot inside her from which her whole body was quivering.

"− here? − do you want me to fuck you here, little one? −" He gasped as he stretched her skin enough to fit all of him inside her, rooting into her again and again with increasingly brutal thrusts of his hips, digging his fingertips into her buttocks, looking at the spot where their bodies joined, at her muscles clenching against him greedily in panic, sucking him inside.

"− please −" She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, her lips parted in disbelief at how pleasurable and terrifying the experience was. He sank his hand into her soft, dark hair and tilted her head back, burying his nose in the hot skin of her cheek, speeding up, stretching her weeping folds with a loud, lewd slaps of his thighs against her buttocks.

"− use full sentences −" He commanded, his other hand from her hip slid down between her thighs – she squirmed helplessly as his fingers sank again into her fleshy skin, sticky from her moisture, teasing her clit with circular, slow motions.

"− here − fuck me here, sir −" She mumbled with difficulty in a voice trembling with exertion, her cheeks all red, the beautiful curls of her dark hair clinging to her sweaty face – he felt with satisfaction that her hips began to respond to his eager thrusts.

"− good girl − that's my good girl −" He breathed out with a quiet groan of pleasure, seeing and feeling her walls squeeze his fat cock at his praise – he licked his lips thinking that Alys had never responded to him the way she did, so frightened and aroused at the same time, relying only on his mercy, his goodwill.

"− you understand that this is necessary, don't you? − that you need to be taught a lesson −" He muttered, feeling that he was losing his temper, thrusting into her so fast that he was barely slipping out of her, slamming into her again and again, his cock throbbing with desire, signalling to him that his peak was coming, her wonderful scent filling his lungs.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm sorry −" She mumbled out –he wasn't sure if she was saying what he wanted to hear or if she really believed it herself for a second, but she clamped her eyelids shut and spread her mouth wide, helpless, girlish, sweet moan of relief burst from her throat as she came, sucking and squeezing his cock, soaking it in her moisture. He sighed in relief when, after a few desperate, deep slaps he spilled inside her, feeling the wave of hot pleasure shake his body.

"− fuck − oh, God, little one −" He muttered, their bodies involuntarily moving for a moment longer, wanting to prolong this surprisingly shocking experience, both of them panting embarrassingly loudly, her body trembling all over – if his arm hadn't been holding her around the waist she would have fallen for sure, her legs completely numb.

He looked down at their joined bodies, his half-hard, throbbing manhood sinking into her again and again, all sticky from his semen and her wetness.

He swallowed loudly, sliding out of her slowly, realising now what he had actually done to her – he heard her quiet hiss of discomfort and sigh of relief, her face flushed from exertion and tears.

"− are you all right? −" He asked in a trembling voice, quickly zipping up his trousers, her shaking hands slipping her underwear and shorts back onto her buttocks.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled in embarrassment, horror and disbelief, not looking at him, in some automatic gesture reaching for her trainers, putting them quickly on her feet.

"Come back on Thursday as we agreed before." He muttered, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart and the panic rising inside him, a complete void in his mind.

What had he done?

"I can assure you that you will never see me again." She whispered in a trembling, broken voice, quickly put her backpack on her back and walked out, slamming the door, leaving him with complete silence, remorse and horror.

He pressed his forehead against the wall, hiding his face in his hands, and burst into tears like a small child.

How could he treat a strange, innocent girl like this?

What if she didn't take her pills, what if she got pregnant?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

What if she really does report it to the police?

I'll destroy her, he thought with a bitter certainty that, after a moment, turned again into terror, regret and shame.

He grabbed his phone quickly and dialled her number, wanting to beg her forgiveness, but she didn't answer. He sat down on the couch and drew in the air loudly, devastated, not recognising himself, realising what kind of man he was.

He laughed desperately, shaking his head, thinking with painful amusement how well she had judged him.

He didn't even have to pretend.

He was like Frollo.

_____

Author's note: Many of you may believe that Quasimodo is the best and most worthy of imitation character, not Phoebus, and this is true when it comes to the book, but I assume that if anything, Daeron at this age has only seen a Disney fairy tale, in which Phoebus is a handsome man with a noble heart. The whole idea of this scene, in which the heroine says that he will be her Phoebus and she will be his Esmeralda, is that Daeron wants to see himself not only as a person with a disability, but as someone handsome, a warrior that a woman could love one day. It's easy to understand how children's minds work and why his works this way, and his "Esmeralda" only wants to help him become the person he wants to be and encourages him not to give up on these dreams and this self-image.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96

387 notes · View notes

manicpixiefelix · 5 months ago

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 23.

Summary: A conversation between you and Oliver as you both try to distract yourselves from thinking about the day behind, and the night ahead.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

A/N: 2957 words. i split the henrys dinner into two parts because the dinner itself was very different tonally to the conversation with oliver that needed to be had i think. this part is sfw but the next part Will Definitely Not Be :) also im putting more gratuitous shakespeare mentions because i love characters pointing out their own narrative parallels. i feed off of the lovely comments y'all leave, so if you have any thoughts you'd like to share, i always love to hear them!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

No matter what you wore, these formal events made you feel like you were choking.

Oliver finds you in the shared bathroom a few hours before dinner began, already dressed and agitatedly fussing with your collar in the mirror. Spotting him in the reflection, your scowl doesn't clear, but you do start vocalising the thoughts that had been running through your head.

"Lady Daphne has three children, all under fifteen."

"What?" Oliver, still looking entirely casual in sharp contrast to you, leans against the sink, watching you with interest.

"Tonight; the woman next to you who isn't Ven, she has three children under fifteen, their names are -" squeezing your eyes closed tightly, willing yourself to remember, you swear with frustration as the children's names elude you. You'd managed to find and memorise Henry of Suffolk's children's names - Henry Jr and Charlotte - but you're again feeling like it's not enough. Your collar feels too tight.

Unbuttoning your top button for what must be the fifth time in the past half hour of your indecision, you groan with frustration.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asks carefully, to which you try and waive off his concern. Clearly, it doesn't work, considering he's making his way over to you to rest a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"I'm fine, it's fine," you tried again, though it still comes out with clear irritation. Closing your eyes again you try and calm yourself enough to focus, "I saw their names the other night in my notes, I know this," you hissed under your breath, "Lady Daphne and Lord Henry; he's Sir James' godson and his own sons are named..." you wrinkled your nose, braced against the counter, "they're fucking French names, I know this!"

"Are Lady Daphne and Lord Henry French?" Oliver asks.

"No, they're just pretentious," you bit out, though suddenly it came to you, "Regis, Gabriel, and Louis." A grin lights up your face at that; the tension leaves you for the moment in the wake of your small victory. You feel like you can breathe again. Oliver gives you a hesitant smile, at least glad to see you're feeling better for having finally remembered. Breathing a relief sigh, you turn to him properly, "how are you, Ollie?"

"Should I remember Regis, Gabriel, and Louis at dinner?" He asks with faint hesitancy. You shrugged.

"I'm sure it couldn't hurt," logically you knew your own anxious preparations were often too detailed for what the night would actually require, but if you had information that could help ease Oliver into this world to which he was unaccustomed, you'd offer whatever you could to make him feel prepared.

But when he asks if you want to stay with him while he gets himself ready for the evening, you still find yourself hesitating.

Farleigh had found you that afternoon as you'd been coming back in from your gardening; he looked more than a little irritated, but refused to explain his mood. There was something unusually guarded about him at the time, something almost bordering on reproachful in the way he looked at you.

As your heart sank with realisation, you tried to find a way to explain to him everything that had happened between you, Felix, and Oliver. The tricky part of it all would most certainly be reassuring him that you believed him entirely, while also figuring out a way to explain why you'd given Oliver another chance despite knowing he was lying to you and Felix. There was no way you'd be able to explain yourself in this moment, and Farleigh seemed to realise this too.

"If you have something to say to me," Farleigh told you tersely, glancing over his shoulder where you could both hear Felix chattering loudly to Oliver down another corridor, "if you can bare to tear yourself away from your darling, little Iago," he spits, and you sighed deeply, expression clearly showing your disappointment, which Farleigh paid no mind to, standing to his full height and fixing his cool gaze upon you, "you know where I'll be."

So now, here you were, after almost an hour trying and failing to distract yourself by skimming through Shakespeare's Othello since Farleigh's latest cruel nickname for Oliver had reminded you of it, you'd decided to bite the bullet and get yourself ready. Really you should head over to Farleigh's room and sort things out with him, talk everything through and smooth it all over, but Oliver looks so helpless at the mere thought of what tonight would require. You tell yourself you can always talk to Farleigh later.

The afternoon eases itself into early evening with far less tension than the middle of the day had brought with it. Simply being in Oliver's company does wonders for your nerves. Even if talk between you is limited, the silence is not uncomfortable; Oliver gets himself ready, and you continue to skim the play while splayed out on Oliver's bed, and the duvet that used to be yours, easing each other's anxieties in quiet parallel.

You're looking for a quote you half remember from when you'd studied the play back in high school, a line that would be all too fitting of an offer to Farleigh when you saw him next, picking up on his allusion while trying to assure him you weren't just blindly believing Oliver over him - there.

I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.

You keep the text open on the bedspread before you as Oliver asks you questions about the unspoken scripts that you all must follow throughout the night. There's something like vindication that wells up within you when you realise how easy you find it to talk him through them.

"Do you always wear suits to these things?" Oliver asks carefully in the intimate moment in which you stand before him, doing up the cuffs of his dress shirt.

"The Henrys dinners? Yes," you nod, nimble fingers dancing against the fabric by his wrist. An amused smile makes it's way across your lips as you explain without even really thinking, "the first and last time I wore a cocktail dress to a Henrys dinner I made one of them, Henry Rochester I think, very uncomfortable," you smirked at the memory, and though Oliver's glad to see you're more smug rather than uncomfortable about the memory, he still doesn't quite seem to understand why.

"Because you're...?"

"Technically yes," you huffed a laugh, letting go of the first cuff to do the second, "because he now gets hard thinking about me in a dress and he doesn't know how to feel about it, and I don't want to deal with that." For a moment, the words simmer in the air between you both, and you finish up with the second cuff, stepping back with a pleased little smile. Oliver, however, still seems to be confused, and finally you acquiesce, giving him the final piece of the story;

"It was a very nice dress, Henry was just so bloody wasted he forgot I was the one wearing it when he couldn't see my face when he walked in on Fi and I in the wine cellar decided to stick around and watch with his dick in his hand," you shook your head dismissively at the memory, rolling your eyes but still grinning, "which isn't our fault, it's our wine cellar, he's the one getting drunk and going for a roam on someone else's estate."

It startles a laugh out of Oliver, the sound bright and sharp as his hand comes up reflexively to cover his mouth. Your expression scrunches up, pleased at the sound. In the few moments that follow, you straighten out Oliver's collar as he's giggling to himself, watching you from behind his hand with warmth and something almost adoring.

"I should show you some time," you wet your lips, crossing your arms as you gave him a leering look over, your intentions obvious. Oliver flushes a little, smiling under your gaze.

"The dress?"

"The wine cellar," you corrected, making Oliver laugh once more.

"You sure you're not going to get me drunk and brick me in down there?" He asked, and your eyebrows rose at the unexpected reference to Poe's Cask of Amontillado. At your obvious surprise, Oliver gives a half smile, reminding you that you'd left a book of Poe's work in the drawer by his bed. He'd read it? You're not sure why you're so touched by that, but you are.

"If we end up drunk in the wine cellar, I promise I won't be leaving you alone down there," there's a surprising amount of affection in your voice for what is ultimately some pretty on the nose flirting, but Oliver seems to appreciate it nonetheless.

When you return from your own room with a pair of cufflinks for him, however, his expression is pensive as he's sitting on the edge of the bed, flicking through the copy of Othello you'd left there.

"Thought my party had something to do with the Midsummer Night's Dream one," he says with faint confusion. You've already got the line you'd found earlier memorised, so you're not concerned that he's flicking through, losing your page in the process.

"No, it is, it's just Farleigh -" except you really don't want to tell Oliver exactly what Farleigh had called him, had implied about him with a single, derisive nickname alone. Iago. You shrugged, "he just said something earlier that reminded me of it is all." Then, sitting down beside him, you shoot for a smile, "what are you up to now; tie?"

For a long few moments, Oliver gives you this utterly unreadable expression. You wonder if he knows the play; if he did, he could almost definitely make an educated guess about what Farleigh's comment may have been, especially given the very recent circumstances. Even if you don't know exactly how Oliver would react to something like that, you're not exactly eager to find out.

The moment thankfully does pass without further comment on the play, with Oliver instead standing and heading to the full length mirror by the wardrobe.

"Is your family helping Felix's with paying for Farleigh's uni and stuff?" Oliver asks with genuine curiosity in his voice as he glances at you in the mirror's reflection.

"What?" The question seems to come out of nowhere, and your reaction is entirely genuine.

"I just wondered if that was, you know, part of the reason he was so loyal to you," Oliver shrugged, though there's something almost apologetic in his eyes, "and, I guess, why you knew you could trust him to be so loyal?"

How did he even know the Cattons were helping with Farleigh's education? Your suspicions were with Elspeth, whom you loved despite how much of a gossip she always was, but Oliver admits that Felix had told him about how he and Farleigh were cousins, and Sir James' guilt over his semi-estranged sister, all the way back at Oxford. Ah, makes sense. Part of it was probably to explain why Farleigh was always hanging around them despite his obvious distaste for Oliver. It takes you a beat to compose your thoughts; knowing both Oliver, and Farleigh, you had to be deliberately sure of whatever information you shared in this moment.

"I'd give Farleigh anything if he asked," you admitted, wearing a faint, sad little smile as you recall how coldly he'd looked at you earlier that day, "but he never has," you shook your head, "not about something like that at least. Why?"

Looking over at the mirror, you see Oliver with his tie done up, looking at you in the reflection as though you're a puzzle he's desperately attempting to solve. But, when you smile, he returns the look in kind.

"I think this might just be one of those times where I have to remember you telling me there's more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy," Oliver says with a wry smile, and you can't help but laugh at the memory of your first proper conversation with him about your friendship with Farleigh on one of Oxford's many rooves.

"Farleigh is simply one of my best friends; I don't begrudge him his pride, it's part of who he is, and I love who he is," with your warm laughter, the mood in the room has lightened considerably, and you finally stand. Wrapping your arms around Oliver from behind, perching your chin on his shoulder, you take in the sight of you both in the mirror.

"You know, I think you'd look so beautiful in a dress if you ever wanted to wear one," you tell Oliver idly, handing over the box with the little, golden cufflinks that you'd been fidgeting with on the bed.

"Beautiful enough to give an old man a sexuality crisis?" He asked with a blithe grin, pulling out of your grip if only to make his way to the cupboard where his jacket had been hung.

"Oh, undoubtably," you don't even hesitate, sitting yourself in the arm chair by the window, watching him once more.

"Don't know if I could start with a cocktail dress," he says, gazing at himself in the mirror with a pleasantly thoughtful look in his eyes as he genuinely considers the idea. Then, "I think I trust you with this more than I trust me," he gives a suddenly self conscious chuckle, ducking his gaze, fidgeting with the collar of the jacket he was still holding.

"You don't have to start anywhere if you don't want," you assured him faintly, but Oliver's smile is so damn affectionate.

"It's fuckin' impossible to describe the kind of effect you have," he tells you, shaking his head, "if you say I'd look beautiful, all I know is that I think I want to look beautiful, just so long as it's you who's looking at me."

"I feel very lucky sometimes," you give an endeared hum at his words, grinning to yourself, "my beautiful boys." Oliver, jacket now on, freezes. He's turning a delightful shade of red at that, looking like he was trying and failing to fight off a pleased grin. Finally, he meets your gaze in the mirror, "would you let me put together a costume for you, for your birthday?"

"What?"

"It's a costume party after all, could I put together a costume for you? Not a cocktail dress, I promise," you teased, and Oliver finally turned back to you, regarding you with nothing but love and affection.

"You know, sometimes I still can't believe you give me the time of day," the words almost seem to surprise him as they leave his lips. Something in your chest tightens, and you pause, once again caught off guard by Oliver Quick. There's a sweetness to the way he speaks that has butterflies fluttering so strangely in your stomach, "you're so..." he turns the words over in his mind, looking for the correct one, before he finally settles, "you're a dream," he says simply, "I don't think you don't get enough credit."

His words fill the sudden silence of the early evening as he steps towards you, cufflinks in hand, offering them as a silent request for assistance. You agree without even thinking.

In the back of your mind, you hear Farleigh calling Oliver Iago, but you can't bring yourself to care. Yes, Oliver spent enough time around you, observing you, talking to you, being in your space, that he knows exactly what to say and how to say it to endear himself to you. Clearly he's genuinely fond of you, but it's not often he gives you a compliment like this. Everything always so deliberate.

But it feels so fucking good to have someone put in the effort for you, someone other than Felix. Felix had always known how you worked, what songs to sing to make you dance if the whim ever struck him. It almost overwhelms you to realise that Oliver had learned how to hum along to the quiet song your heart sings too.

You wonder if you should tell Oliver that he doesn't need to try and manipulate his way into your life, that you'd already made a place for him here, all he had to do was ask to stay.

"I keep giving you the time of day because I'm very, very vain," you can't bring yourself to face his sincerity with any of your own, or you think you may either start crying, or possibly jump his bones, and it's too close to dinner for either. Instead, you grin from ear to ear, teasing tone letting him know how clearly you were joking, as you fixed the first cufflink to his jacket's sleeve, "and you keep saying lovely things about me."

"Lucky for me then that I don't think I'll ever run out of lovely things to say about you," you'd forgotten just how well Oliver could flirt when he really wanted to. Eyes bright and smile brighter, you can see mischief sparkling in his eyes when you look up, meeting his gaze. You love this boy so much it feels like it hurts at times like this.

"Think that means I should keep you very close by, at all times."

"Very few places I'd rather be, sweetheart."

That beautiful bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Later, out of this space, out of this moment, out of Oliver's arms, you could go back to worrying about the night, about all the lies oscillating around your whole situation, about Felix and Farleigh and Venetia. Later, you'll find yourself thinking that Farleigh may have had far more of a point with Othello than you'd first realised when you read 'one that loved not too wisely, but too well' before you put the text back on the shelf.

Later.

Right now, you let Oliver pull you in for a kiss.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #venetia catton imagine #venetia catton x you #venetia catton x reader #venetia catton x reader x felix catton #head heart hand fic #manic writer

96 notes · View notes

explosionshark · 3 months ago

Note

Buffy/Faith + cold, scar, kiss

(For the "send me three words and a character/ship" and I'll write you a scene ask game)

So there's really only one idea for a BodLang sequel that I really care about doing someday and it's this: like two years after the epilogue, Faith goes back to Boston to settle some affairs when she finds out her dad has died and Buffy goes with her. This would be a scene from that hypothetical fic. TW for non-specific references to child abuse (we ARE talking about Faith's family background)

“Faith.” Her name escapes Buffy's lips in a cloud of steam, dissolving into the winter air in a second, so fast it might as well have never existed. Buffy clenches her fists tight at her sides and takes a halting step forward, says it again, softer, more carefully. “Faith.”

Faith doesn't turn around. She's got her hands, bare, gloveless, braced on a metal rail. It's cold enough to snow, though it hasn't yet, and Buffy knows it must be cold enough to burn. She wants to reach out, to fold her arms around Faith's body and pull her back, encircle Faith in warmth, take her away from the pain that seems to lurk in every corner of this city. But she doesn't. Not yet. It wouldn't do any good, not before Faith is ready.

“I'm good,” Faith lies, voice rough, head bowed. Her shoulders don't shake, her hands don't leave the rail.

“You're not,” Buffy says, taking another step closer but stopping short of reaching out to touch her. “And you don't have to be, but don't lie about it. Not to me.”

Faith nods, looses a sigh that deflates the rigid set of her shoulders. She seems to shrink, finally, curling in on herself. She cants her head a little, looking sidelong at Buffy for the first time since she swept out of the apartment. “Sorry.”

“It's alright,” Buffy says and she means it.

“I didn't think it would bother me this bad,” Faith laughs this brittle, hollow laugh, and Buffy can hear the tears in her voice now, even as she shakes her head, sniffing hard to keep them at bay. “I thought, y'know. It'd be good to go back. I'm strong now, y'know? I'm a slayer. And my life is good. I've got friends and I've got you. More than I ever thought I'd get, so. So — y'know, we’re here anyway and it makes sense, come back, get some closure. Thought it would reframe things, being back, really feel how different I am after all these years. How grown.”

Faith pauses and turns around, looking up at the streetlight hanging over them instead of at Buffy directly, the halogen bulb pouring yellow light over her in the dark. “What a fuckin’ joke.” Faith sniffs again, eyes squeezing shut against tears and runs a knuckle over her nose, hard and fast enough to make Buffy wince. “Swear to God, I've never felt any smaller.”

Buffy feels her heart throb in her chest, bruised and aching like a something slammed shut in a doorway. She can't help herself, taking another step closer, reaching a hand out to brush against Faith's cheek. When she doesn't flinch back or pull away, Buffy takes another step forward, brushes back the hair that's fallen into Faith's face, tucks it gently behind her ear.

“The things that fuckin' happened to me in that apartment, B, I swear,” Faith chokes out, sniffing hard again. “I don't even want to tell you.”

Someday, Buffy hopes she will. She dreads it, also, because she knows it will hurt. Faith has let some things slip over the years that paint a nasty picture. And there's more still Faith hasn't had to say, hasn't had a choice in revealing. There's a story in the cluster of too-round burn scars below her ribs, on the back of her right shoulder blade.

“I'm sorry,” Buffy says, finally, trying to make her voice low and soothing, hating herself a little when it shakes in spite of her efforts. “I'm sorry that no one protected you when you were small and vulnerable. You deserved to have someone to take care of you and show you love and keep you safe.”

She can't help the way her own voice breaks at the end of the sentence, or the way she suddenly misses her own mother so fiercely it takes her breath away.

Buffy clears her throat a little awkwardly and continues, “And I'm sorry it still hurts, even now. And that coming back here brought it all up for you again But I promise you — no one is ever going to hurt you like that ever again. You know why?”

“I'm a slayer,” Faith mutters, clenching her cold hands between them. “They couldn't.”

Buffy pauses a moment and pulls off her gloves, biting her lip at the sudden rush of cold against her bare skin. She reached out, carefully, cupping Faith's fists, uncurling them, cupping them between her own warm hands before raising them up between them. She leans down, breathes out hot air against the icy skin. Presses a soft kiss Faith's knuckles.

“That's true,” Buffy says quietly. “You're very strong. You're one of the strongest people I know, one of the best fighters. You've faced down demons and monsters and bad men, and you've beaten them all. You use your strength to help people. To protect people who are weaker than you, who need someone to help them. There's no way to make what happened to you here right, Faith, but that doesn't stop you from making the world better, in spite of the ways it failed you. And I'm so proud of you for that and I'm so glad you're here to do it. Because you're good.”

“I'm—” There's a wobble in Faith's voice and a fierceness in her expression that tells Buffy she wants to argue.

Buffy doesn't let her. “And the other reason no one could ever hurt you like that again is because I wouldn't let them. I won't ever let anyone treat you like that. Someone should have protected you when you were little, Faith, and they didn't and that's terrible. But I can. I will. And not just me, okay? Everyone. Willow and Giles and Dawn and Ange, even Xander.l And all those girls you've helped become real slayers.”

“Buffy,” Faith finally crumbles, lurching forward into Buffy's arms, breath spilling out in hot, wet staccato bursts against Buffy's neck.

“You'll never be hurt that way again because you'll never alone again like you were before,” Buffy promises into the shell of Faith's ear. “Never. I promise.”

Buffy feels Faith's hands clenching tight in the fabric of her coat, clinging to her with all the desperation and ferocity of a frightened child and thinks, not for the first time, that it's probably a good thing that Faith’s mom died before Buffy ever got a chance to meet her. She doesn't know what she would be capable of if she ever actually got to meet one of the people who'd wounded Faith so badly, so deeply, but she doesn't think it would be good.

“I'm— can you?” Faith sniffs, pulling back a little to catch Buffy's eye. “Can we go inside now? Not back there, but— I'm cold.”

“Sure,” Buffy says. She leans forward, presses a gentle kiss to the side of Faith's mouth. She means it just for comfort, a quick peck, and she's surprised when Faith immediately tilts her face, capturing Buffy's lips in another, deeper kiss. There's a desperation here that's familiar to Buffy, after so many years with Faith. An urgent, cavernous hunger, the yearning for reassurance, to feel wanted, to feel herself made precious in Buffy's touch.

Buffy tries her best to sate that need, to pour all of her love, the seriousness of her promise I will protect you, I won't let you be hurt into the kiss. She slides one hand up to press into Faith's back, the space between her shoulder blades, to keep their bodies close. The other hand she cards through Faith's hair, nails light against her scalp, the way that always seems to calm her down. Buffy opens her mouth when she feels Faith’s tongue brush against her lips. She lets Faith in, swallows Faith’s answering whimper, thinking You can have anything you ask me for, I will never turn you away. Wishing she could somehow reach into Faith's heart, untangle all the painful, knotted emotions of her childhood hurts, contenting herself with this instead: loving her now, not letting her forget or doubt it.

“Love you,” Faith whispers, voice raw, when they break apart. “Sorry, I'm — Buffy, I really, really—”

“I know,” Buffy says, kissing her again, lingering, sweet. “I know. I love you too. Now let's go. Let me take you someplace warm.”

#btvs #fuffy #explosionfic #prompt fills #WHOOOOOO haven't written h/c like that in a minute #god i love Faith angst. anyway.#i wrote this on my phone at work and didn't proofread soooooo. cut me some slack

62 notes · View notes

glitchtricks94 · 1 year ago

Text

Bondage Blurbs: Demon Slayer Edition

Shinazugawa Sanemi, Rengoku Kyojuro x AFAB!Reader

I hath fallen back into Demon Slayer thanks to @nymphoheretic's works on the Hantengu Clones, so I feel like I should return the favor and see just what my writing muscles can do for writing characters I adore and have a love hate relationship with. Take a guess who has the pure adoration. First off, lots of flash here, this is an 18+ post. I repeat, this is an 18+ post, so, below the keep reading line is adult content. And I even added the fancy border for this because I'm not kidding. Reader discretion is advised. With all that said, kick back, relax and enjoy~ -Glitchtricks

Kyojuro adores tying his beloved flame up, wrapping them like a present for him to enjoy undoing over and over again, so one could only imagine the Flame Hashira's delight when you told him you enjoyed bondage. He swears he's not smiled so bright in ages!

Carefully weaving the red ribbon and golden ropes over your body, Kyojuro can't help the warm smile and soft praises that spilled from his lips as his fiery eyes trailed over you while his calloused hands worked away.

He gently laid the robes over your chest, squeezing your skin pleasantly, as if he imbued the material with his love for you, the ribbon's cool fabric being wrapped over your nipples and rubbing them gently, sending shivers up your spine. He trailed to rope and ribbons in such a way that held you in place in a mating press, arms firmly laced behind your back, leaving you bare to him. Kyojuro admired his handiwork, his gaze trailing over you with a pleased glimmer in his eyes. The way everything squeezed your pretty curves, your saccharine sweet smile on your flushed face, you looked like the greatest present the man has ever received in his entire life.

"You looks glorious, firefly." He cooed, leaning down to start lavishing your body with kisses. "Thank you for letting me do this to you, you have no idea how much this means to me." He added, beginning to discard his own clothes, revealing more skin to you. "Anything for you, Kyo. I like being tied up like this, I feel safe." You replied, ever so sweetly, making your beloved's chest swell with joy and adoration. "That will always, always be my goal, my love." Kyojuro replied, looking at you tenderly as he placed his hand over his heart. For as loud a man he was, you always seemed to quell even the most deafening yells that emit from his chest. He almost felt as though you would vanish if he was too loud during these intimate moments. "You always succeed, darling." You replied, letting out a satisfied hum as he pressed his lips to yours tenderly, eyes closing to taste the sweetness that always seemed to cling to his lips. Raising to his full height on his knees again, Kyojuro continued to discard his clothing, all up until you were greeted with the luscious sight of his large, muscular frame and erect cock. You couldn't stop eying him while biting your lips. He appreciated that side of you; you never were ashamed to look at him during moments like these. Leaning back over you, Kyojuro braced himself on his elbows and kissed you once more, perfectly slotting himself between your legs, which, as he had calculated, rested comfortable on his broad shoulders as he lined himself up with your dripping sex. Pulling away again, he looked down at you with a smirk, his eyes lidded. "Are you ready for me, firefly?"

Sanemi was never really one for bondage, if anything, he was more for vanilla sex, just using his body to make you lose any ability to think from how many orgasms he draws out of you. It's a bit of a pride thing, and frankly he just gets pissed, like, why would you want toys or anything like that, is he not enough? You weren't saying that when you came on his fingers this morning, so why the hell are you bringing up bondage? Despite his initial anger though, Sanemi still loves you, and will, begrudgingly, hear you out on your request to be tied up. He tilted his head and narrowed his lilac eyes before a smirk emerged across his scarred face. "Alright, but I'll be doin' what I want during it, got that?" He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Of course, 'Nemi, whatever you want." Oh dear, you are lowkey regretting that now. You gagged again as Sanemi thrusted his cock down your throat again, his hand gripping your hair tightly as he let out a growl, his teeth clenched at how great your tight mouth felt around him. Sanemi certainly fulfilled your wish of being tied up, and he even got a little artsy with it, which surprised you, really! You thought he'd just take one of his belts or one of your obis and tie up your wrist. Your eyes widened when you saw the thin, white braided ropes he had picked out. "Are you just gonna stare at them, or were you just trying to piss me off earlier?" He huffed, glaring at how you were eying the ropes as f he had just performed an act of necromancy. "No, no, not at all! I thought you were going to...actually take this seriously, you hate stuff like this..." "I'm doing this for you, okay? And if we're gonna actually go through with this shit, we're gonna do it right." Sanemi muttered, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. Just like that, you remembered why you fell in love with this man all over again. With that, a kiss was shared, you stripped yourself and allowed your boyfriend to get to work. He wove a complicated diamond pattern all across your skin, making sure to squeeze your breasts with the material with some smaller patterns on the skin there, the ropes rubbing against your nipples pleasantly. He had no intention of sinking into your pussy like this though, so he ensured to tie a sizable knot right over your clit so that you still got pleasure while he yanked you around. No one could say that Sanemi didn't think of you. Well, the could, but you'd punch them in the throat as a result. You were yanked back from your thoughts by the sound of one of Sanemi's groans, a telltale sign he was about to cum. He pulled you off his cock at the last second, cutting off his own orgasm, the man looking down at you with gritted teeth and drool streaming down one side of his mouth, his pupils blown. You gazed up at him in a haze, a moan soon being ripped from you as he yanked on the binding in the center of your chest, the knot tied over your clit moving. Sanemi yanked you up and down, making bounce on your knees and stimulating you with just that rope, whines and whimpers belonging to you filling the room; music to his ears as he began to smile evilly at how your slowly unraveled under those damned ropes you begged him for. "Consider this a punishment, princess. You're gonna be cumming on this stupid rope until I decide you've earned my cock back. Let's see how long you last until you realize that I'm better than any fuckin' toy you could ever dare think of."

#kyojuro x reader #kyojuro smut #rengoku kyojuro x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi smut #sanemi x reader #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny smut #kny sanemi #kny rengoku #kny reader insert #glitchwrites.notepad

438 notes · View notes

all-mirth-no-matter · 11 months ago

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: A significant death shakes up the Shelby household just as you find your way back inside. That events and those after make you start to wonder if now is the time to finally listen to Madam Despoina.

Warning: character death, language, yelling

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 13: Ghost

I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies. Kiss me in the corridor, but quick to tell me goodbye. You say that you're no good for me, ‘cause I'm always tugging at your sleeve. And I swear I hate you when you leave. I like it anyway. — Ghost, Halsey

Coming back to the Shelby household wasn’t exactly what you expected. Best case scenario, you expected to be greeted warmly by Polly or Ada; worst case, you expected to have the door immediately slammed in your face by Tommy himself.

Instead, when you knocked on the door, little Katie greeted you.

John’s oldest daughter’s eyes widened and a smile spread across her face when she recognized you, “You’re back!”

She grabbed your hand and pulled you inside as you used your foot to close the door behind you to keep out the cold. When you got into the kitchen, Finn jumped from his chair and threw something into the fireplace.

“Finn,” you scolded. “That a cigarette?”

“Don’t tell Aunt Polly,” he begged, cowering down more in his chair.

Jack ran into the room, a smile on his face as he got ready to watch the show of his youngest uncle getting into trouble.

You hung your jacket on the hook and sat next to Finn, noticing him flinch slightly as you scooted closer. The instinct made you swallow knowing he probably expected you to hit him — one of the discipline actions of the times that still made you cringe despite your attempt to shield your facial expressions.

“I won’t. But you really shouldn’t smoke, especially while you’re still growing. It stunts your growth, ya’know. You want to be this height your whole life?” You tousled his hair playfully to emphasize your point.

Actually, you weren’t a hundred percent sure if that was true — you remember hearing it when you were younger (that and coffee) but you never actually ever did research on it yourself.

“It’s also bad for your lungs,” you added, closing the unattended box of sticks that were sitting in the middle of the table. “It’s bad enough the air quality here is practically smoke itself, the second hand smoke will probably kill us all—“

“Is that what’s happenin’ to mummy?” Katie asked, her hand resting on your knee as she began petting the material of your skirt.

Brow creased, you looked to Finn and Jack, then around the house and noticed no one was around.

“Where is your mum?”

“She’s sick again,” said Jack, or J.J. as you’d immediately called him when you learned that his real name was John, and that he’d been named after his father (Junior). Another moment of instant regret, seeing as you had no idea if initial names or initial nicknames were a common thing yet. But the seven year old latched onto it immediately and you’d apologized to Martha profusely. After the initial shock of her son insisting everyone call him this, who she’d named after John proudly, she finally admitted to finding the nickname quite cute.

That’d been the first substantial interaction you’d had with Martha after just starting in the house. Even before the boys returned, you’d offered to help watch the kids whenever Polly or Ada were babysitting. You’d built a bit of a rapport with the little ones over the months, which had honestly surprised you seeing as you had zero experience with children, being an only child and not having been around family outside of your parents your whole life. It’d taken a little longer to get friendlier with Martha, but eventually you’d found a mutual ease around each other when you were both in the house. But unlike Ada, you didn’t find yourself spending any time outside the house, or alone even, together. And that was okay.

But when she first started getting sick, you’d tried to put in a little more effort to at least let her know you were there for her, or Polly, or the kids, if they needed you. Last you’d heard, Martha had started feeling better around Christmas.

“It’s not smoke, dummy,” J.J. said harshly to his younger sister when she asked again if it was was because of the cigarettes.

“Hey,” you said instinctively, “no need for name calling.”

“Auntie Polly said she’s cold—“

“She’s got a cold—”

“Where is she now?” You interrupted before they escalated, bringing all three of their attentions back to you.

“Auntie Polly took her to the ha’pital,” Katie answered. “Teddy and Annie are with Auntie Ada, said they needed naps.”

And with that, you launched into babysitter mode for the three downstairs. You kept out of the way of the kitchen, especially when the shop opened. When Ada returned with the youngest two, you all took a trip to the shop for food, per Polly’s instructions. By the time you returned, Polly was back and starting dinner.

That’s when she broke the news silently to you and Ada.

Martha had passed away.

Polly was angry with the hospitals, ranting about how she didn’t trust them and how she never should have taken her there in the first place.

“I’ve sent word to John, but he’s still in Digbeth. I’m afraid I’m going to have to break the news to the children.”

You offered to stay the night to help with the kids and housework. That first night had been filled with tears. You even caught Polly’s eyes damp a handful of times during the quieter moments.

Over the next few days, whenever you didn’t have a shift at the Garrison, you ended up at the Shelby house, even sleeping in one of the unoccupied bedrooms most nights. Polly was spending most of the following days preparing for the funeral, while you and Ada tried to make this new world make sense to the children.

You and Ada both had your own experiences of losing your mothers to draw on in an attempt to console the little ones. But it was still difficult, especially for the youngest two, who were still not completely understanding that their mother wouldn’t be coming back. Finn’s patience and kindness to his little nieces and nephews had been the most endearing part for you. He’d been too young to remember his own mother, but was able to explain this new reality in child terms that surprised you.

Since arriving in this time and place, it was hard not to judge the living conditions and lack of opportunities that surrounded you, especially when comparing them to your own upbringing. You’d always considered yourself middle to lower class, but you still had so much more privilege than whole chunks of the world.

Here, even with some of those privileges, you were beginning to understand just how much faster it seemed these children of the time had to grow and mature than you ever had to. Hardships like losing parents at a young age were just the beginning — poverty, malnourishment, lack of education opportunities — these were things that you couldn’t imagine having grown up through. It make you think about Ada and Tommy, your previous image of them running around as children suddenly shifting to something more heart clenching.

Your respect for Polly and her role as matriarch was already high, but over the next few days it only grew as she handled the household, children, business, and funeral arrangements nearly on her own. There hadn’t been a peep from John or any of the brothers until the night before the funeral.

Not yet asleep, you could hear the banging of doors opening and chairs moving in the kitchen. Instinctively, you rose from the cot and grabbed the fireplace stick. On your way down, you stuck your head in the kids’ room, seeing them fast asleep before shutting the door and heading for the noisy intruders.

“Come on, Tom,” you heard Arthur’s voice coming from the kitchen. “She’s got a sister—“

“S’not tonight.” Tommy replying made you pause, your heart jumping at hearing his voice for the first time in weeks. “We’ve got— got the funeral tomorrow, then back to ‘beth.”

His voice sounded lighter than normal, if not slightly slurred.

“Ah fuck it — we’ve been over there for weeks now. The whores here know exactly what I like, them in Dig—“

You cleared your throat, startling both men, though only one reached for his gun to point in your direction. Despite your curiosity to hear more about their escapades, Arthur’s voice had grown louder and you were fearful he’d wake John’s kids, who’d been nightmarish already to settle down.

Tommy’s throat bobbled as he lowered his gun, setting it down on the table. You noticed the dishevelment of his hair and collar of his shirt under his jacket. That, along with the way Arthur was swaying and both with nearly empty bottles in their hands confirmed what you suspected — the boys were wasted.

“The fuck’re you doin’ here?” Arthur asked, his voice not holding as much disdain as you expected, despite the words coming out.

“I’ve been helping Polly and Ada with the kids,” you answered softly, crossing your arms. “They’re asleep upstairs, if you wouldn’t mind keeping your voice down.”

Arthur’s brow creased, his voice still at the same decimeter despite your request. “You ain’t got kids—”

“John’s kids,” Tommy reminded his brother. He gestured toward the door, “Go on now. Don’t you have someone to meet?”

Arthur perked up, “Right! Suppose you won’t join me now, eh? You’ll know where I’ll be!” He gave a final shout before leaving the room and closing the door loudly behind him, causing you to cringe and listen for the stirrings of awakened little ones.

After a moment of silence, you turned back toward the kitchen where Tommy was beginning to remove his jacket.

A deep red stain on the shoulder of his shirt sleeve caused you to gasp, walking toward him without realizing what you were doing, setting the fireplace poker on the table.

“What happened?” You asked, touching his arm gently as you rotated it to see a slash in the fabric.

Tommy shrugged, unsteady on his feet as he instead reached for the fuller bottle of rum on the counter. “Just a scrap ‘fore we went to the pub, ‘s nothin’—“

“I can help—“

“Just go back to the room—“

“Sit down,” you instructed more sternly. He glared at you, but you didn’t let it stop you. “Take off your shirt, that’s going to infect if we don’t clean it.”

“I can do it m’self,” he mumbled and turned to leave, but began to stumble as he became imbalanced.

You caught and stabilized him before guiding him back to the chair. “You’re drunk as fuck, Tommy. Just sit down and let me help you.”

He huffed, but began to slide down in the chair until it creaked with the extra weight. Satisfied, you finally turned to get a fresh bowl of water and clean towels, then the bandages you’d seen Polly use a few times before. He was unbuttoning his shirt when you pulled up a second chair closer to him, ringing the cloth in the water.

“What were you gonna do with that?” You caught his gesture to the fireplace poker on the table, his voice laced with condescension. “Should learn how to handle a real weapon.”

By the time you sat down, Tommy had his bad arm out of his shirt.

“I know how to handle a gun,” you answered plainly, your voice serious as he watched you examine his wound.

Well, you knew how to handle a gun in the 2000s, that is. With your father being a military man, he wanted to make sure you and your mother went through the proper gun safety and etiquette classes since there’d likely be some weapons in the house. You hadn’t been to a shooting range since your father was alive, but you imagined if you had to handle a gun today you’d at least not make a total idiot of yourself. Now, whether you could actually shoot a live person was another question.

Concentrating back on Tommy’s arm, the blood had begun to crust around the cut, but began to bleed slightly as you started to put pressure on it. He hissed slightly at the contact.

“Sorry,” you mumbled slightly as you continued to work. “Why’d you let this go so long? You know better—“

He scoffed, “Do I?”

“I would have assumed so,” you answered honestly. Someone with the military backing he had, he must have known the dangers of infections and exposed wounds. Though as you worked you began to realize it wasn’t as bad as it’d originally appeared.

He took another swig of the bottle before handing it to you.

“No thanks,” you answered, not in the mood to drink tonight.

“For the cut,” he said as he shook his head, a breath of amusement exhaling from his nose at your reaction.

Sterilizing, you realized, giving yourself a duh as you took the bottle and carefully poured some on his skin. He hissed again as blood started to flow once more before you applied proper pressure. You sat there silently for a moment, just holding the rag to his arm, when you noticed him looking down at the cut sleeve, running his thumb across the red stain.

“So much blood for such a small cut,” he said softly, mostly to himself.

Your brow creased as you lifted the rag to look at his arm. The cut itself wasn’t that deep, but it was pretty substantial, at least in your opinion. Maybe comparatively it wasn’t as bad as some of the other injuries he’d had in his lifetime. The thought made your heart clench as your eyes began to notice other scars along his arm and uncovered chest.

You kept going back to a particularly gnarly scar just above his chest as you lifted his arm to wrap the bandage.

“Did you get this fighting?” you finally asked, turning your attention back to the cut, your curiosity getting the better of you.

He grabbed the bottle and took another drink. “‘Cause that’s all we do, eh? Drink, fight, and fuck—“

“I didn’t say that,” you interrupted, your voice strong in defense.

You wouldn’t mention how his brother was just talking about whores. Or how they were both currently drunk. Or how the last time you’d seen him in this kitchen he’d been bloody and bruised from an altercation.

Probably wouldn’t be helpful at this point.

Instead, you tried to appeal to the logical side of him. “Just with the Digbeth expansion, I’d imagine that can be pretty dangerous.”

You finished the tie of the bandage as you looked back up at him. He was already watching you, his eyes red and glassy, causing the already bright blues to appear more translucent against the candlelight. You noticed how much darker the skin under his eyes were, and couldn’t help but wonder when the last time he slept was.

“You’ve got some on your hands,” he pointed, gently wrapping his hand around your own. He lifted it, revealing the deep red smear on the pad of your hand. He used his good hand to squeeze out the rag and began to clean your palm.

“It’s just blood,” you shrugged, trying not to let on that your heart was racing at the intimacy. “Blood doesn’t scare me, Tommy.”

He looked between your eyes. For a moment you felt like he’d suddenly become sober as he lifted his good hand and gently ran his thumb against your cheek. “It should.”

You swallowed. “Tommy, I—“

“You don’t belong here.”

At his words, you felt your back straighten in defense, not realizing how close you’d been moving in toward him. Your heart began to race even faster as you tried to decipher what exactly he meant.

Part of you knew he must have been talking more in general terms. That you deserved something more than Birmingham in a gambling den with gangsters.

But there was something in the rawness of his words. Something that made you feel like he knew what such a phrase could actually mean to you — that you didn’t belong here, in this time or this place.

“I don’t,” you answered honestly, not helping the sincerity of the words falling from your lips. “But here I am. And here is where I want to be.”

Tommy’s expression remained unreadable as his eyes flicked between both of yours, looking for the lie. His adam’s apple bobbed, then he whispered, “With me?”

The sound of soft whimpering caused you both to jump, turning back toward the kitchen doorway. Katie stopped at the archway, dragging a blanket as she used the end of it to wipe her face.

You rose from your seat to collect the little one — this wasn’t the first time she’d woken up crying since her mother’s passing.

Katie nuzzled her face into your shoulder as you turned back toward the kitchen. Tommy was already standing, putting his arm back in his shirt and grabbing his coat and gun, still slightly uneasy in his footing as he headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Tommy—” you called as the door shut behind him.

—-

The next morning was hectic as everyone prepared for the funeral. You didn’t see the brothers again until that afternoon, John’s eyes red despite the stone expression he kept on his face as everyone offered their condolences.

You felt Tommy’s eyes on you as you both navigated through the house, stealing a few glances at him yourself when he wasn’t looking. Neither of you spoke to the other though, and you were beginning to wonder if he even remembered your conversation the previous night. But each time you found yourself thinking in that direction, you shook your head to remind yourself of the bigger picture of the day.

Polly explained that they would start at Charlie’s Yard and walk the body through the town Martha had grown up in before reaching the graveyard. There, the priest would perform the ceremony. Apparently most of Martha’s family was already gone, so the guests would be mostly John’s family and her friends. After the burial, the Shelbys would return to Charlie’s Yard to burn the caravan filled with Martha’s mementos and pictures. Apparently this was more of a Shelby family tradition, something you were greatly interested in learning more about, at a different time of course.

The preparations reminded you of your recent conversation with Polly over spirits. It got you thinking about the tea Madam Despoina had given you again.

Excusing yourself to get ready for the events of the day, you left the Shelby house to change in your lodgings, doing your best to find something black. The only thing you didn’t have was a hat, but Ada had promised to bring you an extra. Your eyes kept shifting over to your dresser drawer.

It’d been almost a month since you’d received the gift. You’d spent months desperate for an answer as to how or why you were here. And it seemed that just as you were given some sort of clue, some key to unlock something — you were rejecting it. You’d gotten caught up in the found family of the Shelbys and the unshakable pull you felt from Tommy. This new life you’d created for yourself had become a distraction and disassociation of the still very real mystery of your circumstance.

Your eyes moved again to the dresser as you looked over yourself in the mirror. Could the answer be in that cup of tea?

A knock at the door caused you to jump, your heart racing at being caught with your own thoughts. Half expecting Ada with the hat she’d promised, you were surprised when it was Tommy instead who stood on the other side of your door.

He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he stood there uncomfortably. He cleared his throat, “Ada wasn’t sure if you’d know where Charlie’s Yard was, so I offered to come collect you.”

“Oh,” you replied, wondering if it was true. “I just need to get my coat then—“

“Tommy? What are you doin’ here?” You heard another man’s voice down the hall as you turned back around to poke your head through the still open door of your apartment.

Benji approached the doorway in a button-up and small bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Tommy’s brow creased as he appraised the man, then looked between the flowers and you before his face hardened and back straightened.

“What are you doing here, Benji?”

He smirked, “We were going to get dinner, remember?”

You hadn’t. The man hadn’t even been a speck on your mind the past week.

“I’m sorry, Benji,” you began, your voice sincere, “um— Martha passed away this week. We’re on our way to the funeral, I can’t see you tonight.”

“Oh,” he turned to Tommy. “Right I heard about that. I’m sorry for your loss, mate.”

Tommy shook his head. “Save your condolences for my brother, Hancock. We’re going to be late, if you’ll excuse us.”

Without waiting for you, Tommy began to walk down the hallway toward the exit. You rushed to grab your coat and lock your door behind you before apologizing again to Benji and hustling after Tommy.

“Suppose that answers my question,” was the first thing out of Tommy’s mouth when you finally caught up with him, still looking straight ahead as you both walked down the lane.

“What?”

“Last night—“

“You remember last night?” you asked surprised. He had been really drunk

He scoffed, still not slowing in his walk nor giving you a glance. “I remember a lot of things. Including you telling me you weren’t interested in Hancock.”

“I wasn’t,” you answered, trying to catch your breath.

He scoffed again and your eyes narrowed.

“But then nearly a month went by after you ghosted me so I thought what the hell, give the guy a chance.”

“Ghost?—“

“You told me to stay away—“

“And staying away means being courted by a Peaky Blinder, ya?”

“Courted?” Your brow creased at the use of phrase. “It was going to be one date — just a dinner, we weren’t getting married.”

He rounded on you, pulling you abruptly into an alcove off the sidewalk until your back was against the brick. His eyes bore down at you as the fire returned to his eyes. “Do you know what happens to people who cross me?” He started, his voice lower than it had been moments before. “They lose their ears, their tongues, their eyes. You have no fuckin’ idea who you’re talking to.”

“I do,” you said, your voice just as strong despite the threatening tone of Tommy hovering above you. His eyes simmered for a moment. “You think you’re a monster. Maybe you are— maybe you have to be, maybe you don’t. I don’t care. I said I was going to help you. So shove off with the chauvinistic ‘I’m pushing you away to keep you safe’ bullshit — I don’t want it.”

You surprised yourself at your own words, though you tried to keep your face from showing it. Deep down, you’d always believed what you said, but you hadn’t known exactly to what extent. Did you not care if Tommy Shelby was a monster? No. And you couldn’t shake why.

“You’ll regret it,” he said, his eyes icy once again with the same hint of desperation you saw the night before.

“Not as much as you’ll regret going from ‘I need you’ to ‘stay away from me’—“

He shook his head, finally taking a step back from you. “I was being selfish—“

“Well then be selfish!” You took a step back toward him. “Because dammit, Tommy, I need you too!”

He pulled your body into his so quickly you nearly pushed him away. But your body immediately reacted to the feel of his lips against yours as you pulled yourself in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You broke away first, the whistling of pedestrians on the sidewalk making you remember you weren’t as concealed in this alcove as you thought. Though Tommy didn’t seem to care, his eyes still focused on you as you caught your breath.

“Don’t think just kissing me absolves you from giving a proper explanation for your actions,” you tried to say as serious as you could muster between breaths.

You were still mad at him. He’d put you through a roller coaster of unnecessary emotions the last few weeks. For him to get jealous at the prospects of you moving on? There was something more, you could feel it. And there was no way you were letting him get away with not explaining himself fully before you felt you could open back up to him again.

The corner of his mouth rose in amusement, “Come to the races with me when I return.”

“What?” your brow creased, though the corner of your mouth tugged upward at the prospects of what sounded like a date (you really were delusional when it came to this man).

“I want to take you to the races. Join me?”

You shook your head, “Is this the Tommy Shelby version of an olive branch?”

He smirked, “Maybe. We can talk more then.”

“Deal,” you answered, pulling his smirk into a genuine smile as you both turned back to continue down the sidewalk.

—-

The funeral was beautiful. Honestly, you hadn’t any idea what to expect when Polly talked about the arrangements. But the words, the songs, and the beauty of the traditions had you in tears. John held his children during the entire procession, and gave a lovely send off before lighting the fire.

Despite the grief you were feeling for the family, your brain hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the tea in your bedroom. Tommy had informed you that they’d be wrapping up Digbeth soon, returning properly in a few weeks.

That night was the first night you’d been back in your own apartment. The first thing you did was open your dresser drawer and remove the box.

You left it on your counter top as you started the fireplace, then the kettle. As you reached for the tea cup, you wondered if it was smart to be alone while you did this. You were, after all, still about sixty percent sure that the old tea was just going to give you either a stomach ache or seizure. But, you guessed that was better than the ninety-nine percent that you’d been at upon first receiving.

You gently removed the leaves and vial of water, following the instructions from Madam Despoina as you made your cup.

Holding the warm tea in your hands, you made the last minute decision to sit on the floor — reasoning that if you collapsed or something, at least you wouldn’t have as far to go.

You settled on the rug, inhaled deeply, closed your eyes, then brought the edge of the cup to your mouth.

You could feel the hot water run through your throat, then down to your chest before the warmth began to spread through your arms and hands, down to your stomach, then legs, then toes.

With your eyes still closed, you sat for a moment, waiting for something to happen.

When nothing did, you took another sip. Again, nothing happened.

Sighing, you sent a small thank you to whomever was listening that you at least didn’t go into any kind of shock, then opened your eyes.

“Hello, darling.”

>> next chapter <;< chapter masterlist

Tag list: @cillixn @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @cillmequick @swordofawriter @sweetmilkshakeluminary @nataliewalker93 @ttae-yong @topstory21 @cole-silas @moral-terpitude @optimisticsandwichgladiator @reallysparklychaos @enrapturedbythemoon @bat-shark-repellant @kpopslur @skxawngs @musicsweetie21 @invisiblexcth @whoisf4yryl0v3r @laylasbunbunny @lordofthunderthr @luvstylesz @roseanimelover @lostgirl219 @berarenado @akemiixx01 @mulletmcghee @jasminxts @oneboygenius @piceous21 @xoprincessmel @the-blueatlas @regatoni1 @goblinjnr @gentyleman @xxbeckybeexx-blog @tanyaherondale @sometimes-i-sing @littlewhiterose @ja-4-leyvam @rubyxx16 @allie131313 @pet1t3 @globetrotter28 @woofgocows @radrouda @wildernessflora @jeysbae @lilianashomaresparza @himikotoga101 @a-asterias @sourholland @samywhale @thecityofspareparts @ponyboys-sunsets @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @vastseamind @optimisticsandwichgladiator @booktvmoviefangirl @drquinnzel0217qqqqqqqqqqq @zodiyack @ofkilljoysandslytherins @bluevenus19 @ce1iat @mgajdaaa @babyotileeblog @arcanebabe @iamtrashsry @snowtargaryen @mottergirl99 @sinarainbows @belledawnidk @laneyspaulding19 @warrior-of-justice

268 notes · View notes

pascaloverx · 8 months ago

Text

Forbidden Romance

Summary: You are in love with Prince Thor. He will soon be King and is hosting a ball between Kingdoms so he can find his future bride. Unfortunately, the Kingdom of Asgard is not ready to accept the Chief of the Royal Guard as the new Queen.

Warnings: inappropriate language, use of violence and adult content in the future of fanfic. some characters belong to the Marvel universe and others were created by the author. this chapter has a slightly steamy part but nothing heavy.

chapter one chapter three

Chapter Two

"Your Highness." You say looking at Thor with a meaningful look. He knows it's important not to give away the idea that you two have an affair. Especially in front of important people. And certainly Steve was important.

"Thor tell me, how did you get a Royal Guard so efficient? She was the first to question my presence here." Steve says looking impressed, which makes you curious. Have you won the admiration of yet another prince?

"She is extremely efficient at what she does. That's exactly why she's head of the Royal Guard and my trusted person." Thor responds by trying to appear more authoritative than usual.

"And she's about to give your royal highnesses privacy. If I may." You say, bowing in front of the two and turning to leave. But from afar you see a shadow and decide to check the corridor.

"I hope you know I can have your head for eavesdropping on a royal conversation." You say to whoever might be in the hallway, but before you can draw your sword to threaten the person, they reveal themselves to you.

"I see that Asgard's training is still as good as it was when you were a simple guard." James Barnes speaks as he looks worried that you will stick your sword in him.

"What is the biggest idiot of all time doing so far from his kingdom?" Your speech seems a bit mocking and James laughs. You and Barnes used to train together when you were younger. He, who was born in Asgard, decided to explore other kingdoms.

"I came after my favorite pupil. It seems you are protecting the future King." Barnes speaks pointing his head towards the two princes who are inside the trophy room.

"You know very well that I wanted to be head of the Royal Guard. And you, I assume, are accompanying Prince Steve." You say as you analyze Barnes. He looks just as hot as the last time you saw him. You and him had an affair before he turned his back on Asgard.

"You won't be surprised to know that I am the Chief of the Royal Guard of the Kingdom of Kyrax. I always knew Asgard already had the perfect Chief of the Royal Guard, so it's my luck to have decided to serve in another realm." Barnes says, trying to flatter you. The truth is, the two of you used to compete to see who would become the Chief of the Royal Guard ever since you met.

"I hope it was worth it, leaving your kingdom to serve another is extremely foolish. But I'm glad Prince Steve has you around. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to prepare for the Royal Ball that's happening later." You say, petulantly. You harbored a certain resentment towards James. He betrayed the kingdom that you both valued so much because he was sure he wouldn't be better than you.

"I missed you." James murmurs as he grabs your arm. The clanking of his armor against yours makes a horrendous, skin-crawling noise. You look at him, without a reaction. As you're about to respond, you notice Thor and Prince Steve are behind you. You move your arm away from Barnes' hands, wondering how long they've been there.

"Are we interrupting something?" Thor asks, clearly annoyed, while Prince Steve strangely seems to just be observing your reactions intently. You could swear you saw him smile slyly.

"Your Highness. Y/N and I were just talking about old times. I must say, it's a pleasure to see you both together." Barnes says, composing himself and stepping back a bit from you. He seems to seek support from Prince Steve, who nods slightly as if to say 'I'll get you out of this.'

"Indeed, Barnes, it's a pleasure to stand beside Asgard in moments like these. That being said, I look forward to seeing you at the Royal Ball later, Prince Thor. And you too, Chief of the Guard. Now, Barnes and I will retire to my luxurious chambers." Prince Steve says strangely, keeping his gaze on you. As if you intrigued him. Thor, like you, seemed to have noticed and appeared bothered, but he only nodded and let Steve lead Barnes away. When you turned to leave, he grabbed you. Your body was pressed against the cold wall of the Grand Asgardian Castle while the future King was extremely close to you.

You had two options, to give in or resist. But something inside you, like a warning, reminded you that this could be one of the last times you could do this. So you pulled Thor towards you with all the strength you had and kissed him. It was almost a violent kiss because in a way you're angry with Thor. He acts as if he has no choice at all, but he doesn't allow you to move on. Thor however seemed to like it, he held you firmly by the waist as if he wanted to grab you and never let go again. The taste of Thor's mouth was almost etched in your mouth. You felt your intimate area becoming increasingly wet as Thor's firm hands passed through your armor. Damn that fucking armor. Not that the royal robes allow you to play Thor the way you'd like. You then nibble on Thor's lips as if you want to tease him at the same time as you want to leave him wanting more. You bite his bottom lip hard enough that it bleeds a little but that only turns him on more. Your kiss, besides taking your breath away, now tastes like blood but that doesn't stop you from continuing.

"Is this all jealousy?" You ask as Thor kisses your neck, almost kissing the armor, and he smiles.

"She says while almost devouring me for being about to spend a night surrounded by women. Or do you think I don't know why my lip was bitten?" You smile, thinking that it seems Prince Thor really knows you. You kiss him lightly as if apologizing.

"It's just a keepsake. Soon this won't happen anymore, and all we'll have are these memories. Treasure them, Your Highness." You say, stepping away from Thor and giving him a final goodbye peck. He seems somewhat taken aback, but you're too busy thinking about how dangerous yet extremely exciting this situation is.

The night arrives quickly as you busy yourself with organizing security and ensuring the Royal Guard is prepared for the event. That's when Loki knocks on the door, all gleeful as if he's about to burst with happiness. You're not in your event armor yet, so you're somewhat inadequately dressed for the occasion, but you open the door as Loki continues to babble your name while knocking.

"I bet you'd prefer Thor here right now, but I bring good news. The grand King Odin has asked me to inform you that you should dress in a beautiful gown. It seems that a certain someone is interested in you. So, no armor tonight. Someone will bring you some dress options since I imagine you don't have any or if you do, they're not suitable for the Ball. Good luck. I always knew you would find something better than my dear brother, but you've outdone yourself. Just wait until he finds out. Anyway, I'll get ready. See you later, and um… remember to smile." Loki speaks so fast that you almost get lost, and he doesn't give you time to react or ask who he's referring to.

Soon, two maids arrive with options of attire and various preparations to make you presentable. Every second that passed while several people who usually only attend to royalty were fussing over you, you felt that something was wrong. And suddenly, the moment arrives. It's time for the Ball.

41 notes · View notes

xxsycamore · 1 year ago

Text

👻🕸️🦇 IKEVAMP SUITORS IN A HORROR-MOVIE SETTING ! 🦇🕸️👻 (headcanons)

Happy Halloween! Yes, this includes all 17 suitors. I'm no expert on the genre but I thought this might be fun! Some of them die. I'm sorry. Warnings: everything that can appear in a horror movie really, including mentions of death, mass murder, blood, gore, torture, cults.

If you feel like reading something more goofy where everyone lives, try Pumpkin Carving Competition At Saint Germain’s Mansion or maybe even “Welcome to Saint Germain’s mansion, please have a fang-tastic night.”

𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍

The "okay guys, we need a plan" guy and welp, he has a sword, he is willing to walk in front, why not trust him? 👍🏻✨He's totally the one to hide being infected because come on, how are they gonna get out of there alive if the leader is down? Has a dramatic scene where he's fighting off the transformation in secret. Ends up being saved by someone and survives.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎

Leonardo is the one you find along the journey, mistaking for an enemy at first as you get into his trap... when it actually turns out he's been there long before you, surviving all alone in this post-apocalyptic setting, adapted to it, prepared for every danger out there with gadgets he made himself! He might not stay alive until the end but plays a key role in the plot.

𝐌𝐎𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐓

He tried to warn them not to do anything stupid... He's now stuck suffering from the group's bad decision-making. He doesn't even know how he ended up there. Mozart is that one character that you're supposed to hate for being an asshole. At one point he falls in danger that specifically relates to a fear of his, and when everyone expects him to sacrifice another person to save himself, he does the opposite. He seemingly dies right there, breaking everyone's hearts, only to be revealed at the very end that he managed to survive!

𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐀𝐂 (credits for the idea goes to @scummy-writes guys she can write a whole fic of those I swear,, it's been such a pleasure listening to her)

Isaac needs to be saved five minutes into the movie... which writes him off as the weaker one from the get-go. This is going to be bad if the situation comes to "we gotta leave someone behind or we all die here!" - but hey, DON'T LEAVE ISAAC BEHIND IF YOU WANT TO SURVIVE! Because the next thing you know everyone falls into this deadly trap that only HE can figure the way out of, using his big brain skills. His worth has been proved! Everyone loves him now! And all he wants is to go back home and never go on a trip with these guys ever again!

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑

I'm sorry, Arthur dies first. The others are trying to warn him about the cases of victims who've been sucked to a dry husk and he's like "later virgins, i have a date tonight". Yeah his date totally killed him. Bonus points if we're dealing with vampires here, because irony. It's fine though, he's still important to the plot after he dies, because we find his writing diary and he left important cues there while trying to escape from his killer. Maybe he even came close to the truth! He knows his mystery genre stuff after all...

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐒

Theo just does NOT believe paranormal exists, not even after witnessing it with his own two eyes. Worst part, he tries to convince the others too. "My broer IS NOT POSSESSED!" Uhuh! Okay Theo! You just saw cryptic images appear on his canvas without him even moving the brush but I guess he was just trying a new painting technique!! And he levitates too and his eyes are tar black but what do we know... Once Theo realizes the situation, he's out there swinging a bat (sexy), ready to beat the shit out of whatever caused this, and he's good at it. Don't worry about him dying.

𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓

Poor baby Vincent is every sinister ghost/demon's number-one target. Vincent listens to the voices. He sympathizes with them! He makes friends with them! Maybe he doesn't even need to be possessed at this rate... Same story with joining a cult, honestly. When their bad intentions begin to come to light, Vincent puts up a fight and is suddenly not as easy to control as they thought.

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍

Jean might take some bullets from our main cast while someone shouts "IT WON'T DIE!" but it's fine he's used to it... he's been dead for quite some time and not just inside. Jean is probably the result of some sick experiment about making an immortal army of warriors and. It's sad. But it's fine because he joins the protagonists now! He's friend! I hope they apologize for calling him a monster. No, he doesn't die by the end of the movie, but at what cost?

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈

"Oh, it was just Dazai." Of course it was, someone has to be that one idiot that scares the shit out of everyone until he becomes the boy who cried wolf. Which usually ends with death! I'm sorry Dazai. At least they can take him seriously now and pay some more attention to the strange things he kept on saying.

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄

A very old-school villain! Bonus points if the setting is modern yet he still has a villain's lair and all that. There's something beautiful and tragic about him and he probably dramatically lets himself be defeated even if he had a chance to escape. Everyone will remember him. Mostly for the mental and physical torture, but still.

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐓𝐄

"But we have one hour left until the curse kills us all, how are we gonna get there on time?!" *sounds of safari jeep pulling over* "Someone ordered a ride?" - yeah. Comte is here to save the day with the power of money friendship. And not just that! Who is the one who suddenly remembers a family heirloom that is as old as time and suspiciously shaped exactly like the key they're searching for? I also want him to lose an eye or a limb for some reason... just for a little touch of gore maybe?

𝐒𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍

Gods, Sebastian is the only prepared one, bless him for that. He's read all about that urban legend while everyone's been busy denying its existence. He is not scared at all, too... you might wonder if he's just geeking out during all of this bloody mess or something. He's so important, please don't let him die please don't let him die... he died.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒

The villain's aide that infiltrates the protagonists' group. By the time his betrayal scene happens and he nearly kills three members of the group with a chainsaw, we get a glimpse of his trauma and that's the key to sucessfully talking him out of doing it, eventually disarming him and catching him. He manages to escape and maybe later returns as an ally! Yay!

𝐅𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓

Gods he's scary. I'm not watching this. Of course he's the killer, what did you expect? Has a tragic backstory of being used by an even more fucked-up killer in the past to do the dirty work for - and kept doing it even after getting rid of them himself, because that's the only thing he knows how to do. You can't fix him.

𝐕𝐋𝐀𝐃

IT'S HIMMM he's the scary little boy from the photos and the same scary little boy that always shows up in the rose garden and his soul just won't rest in peace!! Shows up in his adult form plenty too, just expect his expression to twist into something horrible every second. He needs to be sealed forever somewhere and it would take three sequels to get to know what would actually defeat him once and for all.

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄

... I'm sorry but there definitely is a lighthouse in this movie. And you can totally trust Drake! The poor guy's body just washed up for you to discover, tragically drowned-oh, wait no, he's breathing. He's totally not the same sailor who died around here many, many years ago. He's gonna keep you good company in the lighthouse alone for miles.

𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐎

Galileo is the one who saw the Thing™ with his own eyes, while he was watching the stars one night ages ago. He dedicated not only his massive research but also his life to this, yet noone believes him. If he somehow manages to find that one missing piece that connects everything together, he will die a horrifying death before he can even share it with the main cast. Rip...

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @my-day6 Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

145 notes · View notes

1-800anklebully · 1 year ago

Text

Exchange ft King Kenny x black female reader

Summary! In which old lovers reunite and Kenny still feels like Destiny is the one for him.

Warnings! Swearing,mature content,angst turned to fluff at the end, sappy and jealous!Destiny, and a whole other bunch of things.

Main character: Destiny Korma

➔ ➔ ➔ Excuse any errors!

“Please I’m begging you Destiny. Can you please be in the video?”Harry pestered, while holding his hands in a prayer form,to which Destiny side eyed him in disbelief. Her cousin was the biggest beggar of them all.

“Why does it have to be me, don’t you have a ton of woman in your DMS begging to be in a video with you lot?” She recalled seeing a woman on Instagram being hysterical, because Filly had brushed her hand in the club while he was trying to get through.

This was appalling, because she never understood the hype behind her cousin and his friends. They were normal human beings that lived a normal life except, they were rich and made entertainment videos for a living.

“Because the fans want you, Destiny. Sharky and them did a Q&A on Instagram,and they said they wanted you in a video.” Harry informed her, bored with how she was questioning him too much.

A smirk formed on Destiny’s plump lips and she cleared her throat crossing one leg over her other.

“Sharky? How is he by the way..”

Harry groaned loudly, shaking his head at his cousin's antics. He knew how much she fancied him, but Sharky found the whole thing amusing. So from time to time he would purposely flirt with her, just in spite to make Harry annoyed.

It’s not like he had a chance anyway, the two would never happen as she was his best friend's ex, plus Destiny wanted the real thing and Sharky was not ready to commit, at least not until he was ready.

Just like Kenny.

“He's fine Des. Now are you in or not, because I don’t have time to play cat and mouse with you. I got things to do—“

“Alright chill grumpy pants, I’m in. Just text me the details and I’ll come.”

Sighing in relief, Harry mumbled ‘’thank God’’pointing to the air and stood up hugging his cousin before leaving her apartment. Leaving her to dwell on the fact that she was going to have to face Kenny on Wednesday.

TIME SKIP TO WEDNESDAY BECAUSE I'M LAZY

Wednesday had crept around the corner like nothing, ultimately Destiny planned to sleep in and watch Top boy. However, she received a reminder text from Chunkz, and NIKO. She knew better than to try and bail,because both of those men were persistent and would most likely rock up to her house and drag her out.

So she spent the majority of the day doing self care as the video was scheduled at 3:30. Such as doing her lashes, eyebrows, re painting her nails and even chucking in the time to go and do a workout.

She felt good so she had to embrace the moment.

“Hello.” Destiny picked up her phone while glancing at the caller, she was in the middle of getting her nails done so she had to multitask.

“BITCH ARE YOU ON CRACK, YOU'RE FILMING A VIDEO WITH MY HUSBAND. AND DIDN'T WANT TO TELL ME”. Meet Karin, she’s Destiny’s best friend and right hand woman.

The two met one night when they were at the club, and Destiny got bat shit smashed and she tried to steal Karin’s Birkin mistaking it as hers. Until Karin told her it was not and somehow the friendship formed from there.

They have been seeing each other since then. And haven’t turned on each other's back since. Destiny visibly flinched at her friend's tone, as she didn’t expect her to be as loud as a camel.

“What’s with the shouting? And I promise I was going to tell you, but I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to call your friend right! Well what are you wearing, you better not be wearing some baggy shít or lord help me, I’m coming down from Australia to smack your ass.” Karin threatened, only for Destiny to laugh at the seriousness in her tone.

Destiny had a ugly habit of wearing clothes that were baggy, this was only because her family had taught her from a young age to not wear tight revealing clothes.

Ever since, she hasn’t tried to try and break this habit. It’s only now, at the ripe age of 27 she’s wearing clothes that show a tad bit more skin. Thanks to Karin who is carefree and is all about body goals.

“No I’m not wearing something baggy, I’ll show you when I get home. But don’t worry I’ll make sure to tell Chunkz that you’re sending your love from Australia.”

“Period! As you should, that man wants me; he's just too scared to make the first move, which is fine.”

As delusional as Karin sounds, everything she was chatting was indeed correct. Her and Chunkz have a little thing, and it’s been going on for awhile and he is yet to ask her out.

He’s always so quick to come to Destiny for not being open and honest about her feelings, when he can’t even take his own advice and do the same.

“Alright, well I’ll call you later I gotta finish my nails.”

“Okay bye baby, make sure you take photos and send them to me! Love you pookie!”

“Love you too wifey!”

TIME SKIP

By the time Destiny was done with everything, it was already 2:30 and she knew that she took forever to do everything. So she put on her crocs on sport mode, and sped home to get ready as the studio they were filming at was 30 minutes away from her house.

But with her crazy driving she would make it 20 minutes. Once she had gotten home she quickly did her make up, making sure it wasn’t too dramatic then put on her outfit and she was out.

Her estimation was indeed correct because by the time she got there it was already 3:00. Out of breath, she slammed her car door and bolted into the studio to find most of the women were already there and the boys were talking amongst themselves.

Before she could approach them, a man had gently tapped her causing her to spin around.

“Hey are you Destiny? If so,we would like you to come with us so we can show you your room and where you can put your stuff.”

“Oh okay.”

Trailing behind him, she was quickly pulled into a room where they adjusted her hair, while attaching a mic to the back of her dress, in order for the fans to hear when it’s her time to talk.

Cluelessly, Destiny followed the man and she watched as he motioned for the women to all come together so he would explain what’s going on.

There were a total of 8 eight women and they were all Caucasian, Destiny being the only black woman. She silently cussed to herself, as she was going to give her cousin a handful later about being more diverse.

“Alright as you all are gathered here today I’m pretty sure you are all aware of what’s going on today. Kenny is going to be our lucky man,who’s going to have to distinguish which one of you is the gold digger.” He spoke to no one in particular.

“You will all stand behind this white wall in number order based on the number that we have given. Kenny will then go around asking each individual to introduce themselves. And we’ll go from then on, the last 3 contestants will then go on a 5 minute date with him and he’ll decide the winner from there.

“Now me personally I don’t care if you’re here for money or for love. That’s on you. All I’m asking is that we just tone it down with the swearing and let’s all be respectful is that simple? Any questions?” The women all murmured to each other and he nodded.” Great, now let’s line up please.”

The man had gone around ordering all the girls with a number and Destiny had landed on number 5. They all got into their positions and the video had started.

All she could hear was Nikos booming voice echoing throughout the room, as he was giving the intro. This gave her some sort of comfort, that he indeed was here like he promised.

Now they had gotten all the girls to introduce themselves and it was Destiny’s.

“Contestant 5 it’s your turn.”

“Hello my name is Destiny. I am 26 years old and I’m from Sierra Leone.”

“Oh an African queen, I like that.” She overheard Filly say, and she almost laughed, however she covered her mouth to prevent it from coming out.

“That’s cool love, and what’s your occupation?”

Swallowing, Destiny was hesitant to answer as she didn’t want them to suspect it was her, but she didn’t have a choice but to answer.

No one else besides Harry and Niko, and chunkz were aware that she was invited to the video. As they wanted it to be a surprise to the fans and the other boys.

“I’m a physical trainer in the NBA.” She revealed and heard multiple gasps, some of the girls even rolled their eyes or scoffed in envy. But she didn’t give a damn, she worked hard to get in the position so she was going to earn it.

“DAMNNNN”

“Nah she’s waffling.”

“Ain’t no way she works in the NBA.”

The boys suddenly became a bit more quiet then Kenny spoke.

“Oh okay I see you girl, what team?”

“The Atlanta Hawks.”

“Lads, I think I just fell in love…” Kenny exaggerated clutching his chest, causing everyone including the camera crew to laugh.” I LOVE THE HAWKS, You think you can get me Trae Young’s number?’” He asked, almost sounding genuine, and almost sounding like he wasforced into it.

“We’ll see.”

The boys oooo like teenage boys and Destiny rolls her eyes with a smile. Who knew the boys were still childish after all these years.

“Alright next contestant!”

TIME SKIP-

As the time went on ultimately, Kenny had kicked out the contestants he didn’t like. Remaining with Destiny; and contestant number three and number 6. Now Destiny was not really stressed because Number three was named Bree.

She was a brunette and was a model of course, but she lacked the confidence and she was just talking about herself the entire time, not even asking Kenny the right questions.

Then Number six was named Sasha. She was a blonde and actually seemed genuine. Her only problem was that she was only here for money, unfortunately Kenny didn’t know that but he was getting the sense.

Sasha had told Destiny that she was purely only here to get money to pay off her BMW. Like girl, get a damn job the last thing that should be on your mind is trying to be famous and being on YouTube.

“So what are you into?” Kenny had asked Bree who was grinning so hard that her mouth could snap.

Now he was not entirely convinced that she was genuine so he analysed her response carefully.

“I’m into dancing.”

“Oh yeah, what kind of dance are you into dancehall?” Kenny jokes, showing his dimples however his grin soon dropped,once she stood up from her chair and began doing some tap dancing.

Instantly, Sasha m lol and Destiny made eye contact and bursted out laughing. The two began running to each other, grasping each other's arms, as they cried to themselves.

Filly and them were also heard laughing from the other room because what the hell was even that. Gathering themselves together, Kenny bit his lip to contain his laughter.

“Wow, that really was something.”

“Awwww thank you Kenny, I wish I could do better but these bad boys were in the way.” She patted her heels, thinking she really did something.

Fast forward to Sasha, obviously Bree was let free because Kenny was not feeling that whole dance plus she was giving very much desperation.

Next was Sasha, she was nervous for some reason and kept cracking her knuckles every few seconds. It was only until Destiny approached her that she calmed down slightly.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“No,just nerves. I guess Kenny seems so sweet, just don’t want to ruin it.” She rambled, playing with her fingers and Destiny hummed.

Kenny was her ex, so she knew what he liked and didn’t like. So if Sasha was to go out there flaunting her humongous breasts,he would immediately not show interest.

Sure he loved a more curvy woman, he didn’t discriminate at all. He just didn’t want her to have to show off her body, in order to gain his attention.

He mainly went for personality, yet he wanted something to look at of course. Maybe even something to grab onto if you get my drift.

“So Sasha, I’ve been told that you like boxing, why’s that?”

“I’ve learnt that it was a great way to take off my stress, and my father used to do it with me all the time when I was younger until he passed away.” She recalled, causing Kenny to frown sympathetically.” Oh my gosh, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“It’s fine how could’ve you. It was years ago, but at times I still find myself lingering on the fact that she’s not here.” She cleared her throat, to prevent herself from crying.

Kenny reached over grasping her hands in his large ones causing Destiny to scoff, earning a side eye from the producers. Why was she so bitter, it’s not like she still liked Kenny. Her and Kenny were done, and he’s moved on.

So why is she suddenly so bothered by seeing the way he was gazing into Sasha’s eyes. I mean she was the perfect fit, she was more on the slim thick side. Educated, with a wealthy family and was a boxer. All she needed was a lover.

What was there to not love about her!

Destiny on the other hand, she was also educated and wanted to settle down just like Kenny. It was just finding the right man that was troubling her. The men her age weren’t taking her seriously, she only had one serious relationship after Kenny.

Was with a guy named Stefan, he was African American and came to London for some cruise. While on the cruise, Destiny happened to be there and she had a one night stand with him.

The two went on to date for a while until she found out that Stefan was just using her to get closer to her brother Dean, who was a famous football player he just wanted to be like Dean. So she broke up with him and never saw him again.

“Okay contestant 5 can you please come out and reveal yourself.” Sharky’s loud voice boomed from the other room, and Destiny sighed bracing herself.

With one last deep breath, she adjusted her skirt and made her out from where she was and walked over to the table where Kenny was.

As soon as she came into the camera, the boys began screaming loudly and clapping. Kenny’s face had dropped and he visibly looked as if he had seen a ghost.

“OH MY GOSH BRUVV.”

“IS THIS DESTINY KURMO IN THE FLESH?!”

“SOMEBODY PINCH ME LADS.”

Once all the commotion had died down, Kenny had cleared his throat and began laughing foolishly.

“You can’t be serious… If this is a joke, Niko come out here right now.” Kenny became angry, because he hoped the boys were not playing with his feelings.

They all knew that he still loved and cared for Destiny tremendously, words can’t even describe how much he cried the day they split, she had an immense impact on him and she didn’t even know.

Ask anyone, even the loyal fans they would tell you that boy was sprung over Destiny.

“I promise bro, if this was a skit I would’ve told you but this wasn’t me.” Niko defended himself, also bewildered by the sight of Destiny. More at the fact that she actually showed.

“He’s not lying. Harry was the one that was invited for the video. So take it or leave it, either you can sit down or you can send me home. I don’t mind.” Destiny chimed, taking a seat across from Kenny.

It looked almost like he was having an internal battle with himself. Almost instantly, he gave in sitting across from her and he just stared.

“Yo, cut the cameras.”

“Kenny—“

“I said cut the cameras bro, I don’t want this recorded!” He snapped, and the guy sighed but obeyed, turning the camera off temporarily.

“So what’s your aim? Why are you here Destiny?”

“Kenny-“

“If you want the money you can take it and leave. Because I’m not about to do this again.”

“Do what.” She frowns, not getting why he was so upset at seeing her appear in the video. After all he always wanted her to appear in a video and she was here.

“Be with you again! You left me remember, I told you I wasn’t ready and you just ran off like what we had was nothing.” Kenny argued, Destiny scoffed not liking his tone one bit.

It was almost as if he was blaming her for the fall out that occurred between them, and that was the last thing that Destiny liked. Was when someone accuses her of being the problem, when she wasn’t it.

“Well excuse me for being smart, why waste my time on someone that wants to be a man child forever. I told you from the start Kenny, I wanted the real thing, and you couldn’t give me that. So what did you expect me to stay?! No because I’m not one of those women that will tolerate that Kenny!” She shouted back and it suddenly became silent. It felt almost as if no one else was in the room, just these two.

Suddenly Kenny got the urge to ask her a question that he knew could go either way.

“Do you still love me Destiny?”

Suddenly Destiny’s face had become tense and her face had fallen a bit at his words, why was he switching the attention to her all of a sudden. She was meant to let all her anger out on him, not vice versa.

“Are you serious Kenny, this isn’t about me it’s about the fact that you’re trying to blame me for leaving, when you couldn’t even meet me halfway—“

“Just shut up for a second!”

Everyone had become even more quiet and all Destiny could do was sigh and gaze helplessly into the distance, where Chunks and the rest had all come out from behind the room putting their thumbs up to encourage her.

They knew that she was probably never going to want to make a video with them again, if it was going to be this chaotic but this drama was going to gain views.

“See how you avoided my question? I asked if you still loved me. Not what I did 4 years ago, so I’m gonna ask you again, do you still have feelings for me Destiny.”

“Okay fine, yes I do! I still love you for some reason, after the messy break up I can’t seem to let go of all those years we spent together. And then for us to just break up like it was nothing. You don’t know the damage that you did Kenny.” Destiny could feel her eyes burning with tears, but she wiped them before they could spill.

It physically made Kenny sick to see the love of his life in tears because of him, lord knows the unseen tears that she shed while in private. But he was here now and he was ready to make things right.

Leaning forward, Kenny interlocked his hands with hers and she didn’t fight it. Instead she glanced down at his fingers not wanting to make eye contact. Then he used his other hand to lift up her jaw so that her eyes were glued to his.

And she folded.

“I know, baby. And I’m sorry alright, if I could take back my actions I would do it a thousand times.I was young and dumb, and I wasn’t ready. But I’m 26 now and I’m ready to give you my all.

Looking back. I realised how lucky I was to have you, a woman that was willing to settle down and be there for me. And I was dumb even enough to lose you. So I’m here now and I want you back Destiny.

We’re too grown to be going back and forth about our feelings. I want you and I’ll be damned, if I let you leave this place without being my girl.” Kenny finished and, the boys all cheered loudly at his speech.

Heck even the producers were joining in on the applause because Kenny was a good man. The girls Bree and Sasha, were even tearing up in the corner with smiles. They could tell from the start that Kenny was not as interested in them as he was with Destiny.

As soon as Destiny appeared his whole demeanour, had shifted so quickly that anyone could tell that they had history.

“So what do you say Destiny ?” Niko wraps an arm around him.” Are you ready to take him back?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll gladly take him. He’s quite leng. Have you seen his abs?!”Aj added, and this made all of them laugh at how unserious he was.

“You lot actually crack me up, but to answer your question yes I take you back Kenny. I’m ready to be your woman.” She gleefully says,and the boys all awe as Kenny pulls her by her waist pulling her into a deep and long sweet kiss, kissing her as if his life depended on it.

“YESSS IT'S ABOUT TIME FINALLY WE’RE GOING TO HAVE FOOD AT HOME.”

The day ended with the boys all going to eat at a restaurant, and the whole time Kenny would not let Destiny out of his sight. He clung onto her like a Koala. Not because he was afraid of losing.

Moreso,because he missed her touch for 4 years which he attempted replacing with multiple women. No one matched her energy, her love was one in million. She was irreplaceable. Overall, he was just glad that he was with her finally.

Kenny finally had his girl back

The end.

︳︳︳︳︳︳︳

Author's note!

Please, this was sooo long. But I was having a Kenny era so I had to write a little something for him. And I know it’s so all over the place, but I just wrote what came to mind.

So I really hope y’all liked it. And maybe in the future I might write for the beta squad, cus lord knows I love all of those men!

Once again thank you for reading and supporting my writing, it means a lot and if you have any ideas in mind you want me to write please don’t hesitate to ask!

I’m down to write for whoever that’s if I like them…

Anyways Ciao! 🩷

#king kenny #beta squad x reader #beta squad #black fanfic writer #black female reader #light angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff

78 notes · View notes