#Roll the dice and watch them fall
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Doodle of Mikhail (Chapter 7 and 8)
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I have no idea how I got the motivation to draw the Fatui uniform but woah it looks very nice!
Mikhail's hair is just barely past his shoulders. I thought about making him blonde, but he looked a bit too pale so he's got light brown hair now.
Bottom right - Mikhail was just served his pan fried pork buns. Absolutely delighted. He has zero idea what's going to happen this chapter. (He should be wearing his mask, but I thought that bit looked better without it)
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for the last fucking time! listen to bisexuals when we tell you what bisexuality is all about! it's when you're obsessed with both sandra hüller AND swann arlaud! i won't repeat it again!
#sandra hüller#swann arlaud#anatomy of a fall#man every day i roll the dice to see which one of them will have control of my braincells#i need to go watch their entire filmographies it's THAT serious#according to jules
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In terms of conflict resolution gimmicks in tabletop RPGs, dice are always a classic, but I've also seen playing cards, tarot cards, party spinners, dominoes in both their matching-game and tip-them-to-make-other-dominoes-fall-over modes, coloured beads, coin flips, chess boards, dance-offs, stop-watches, Jenga towers, guessing games, public speaking, fire, knives, candy, baked goods, and in one notable case, a dildo covered in edible glitter which players compete to thwap with those little rubber sticky-hand things. I've played games which employ these devices in ways which emphasise random chance, games which employ them in ways which emphasise player skill, and a game whose method of resolving psychic powers was once criticised for affording unfair advantage to characters whose players are actually psychic. Though there's inevitably a sense of trepidation when pushing the boundaries of one's medium, I promise you, whatever goofy conflict resolution method you've come up with for your indie RPG probably isn't even the weirdest one to be published this week, let alone overall. The usual crowd is going to sniff and harrumph at anything that isn't "roll a single twenty-sided die plus modifiers versus a flat target number" anyway, so fuck 'em – do it for you.
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Imagine: Falling Asleep During Game Night with the Inner Circle
The House of Wind was filled with laughter, the kind that echoed off the walls and warmed every corner of the grand dining room. It was game night with the Inner Circle, and everyone was gathered around the long table, plates pushed aside to make room for cards, dice, and various betting tokens. Rhysand and Cassian were loudly debating the rules of some card game Feyre had just learned, while Mor was dramatically telling Amren how she was, once again, going to win it all.
You sat beside Azriel, leaning against his broad shoulder as you watched the chaos unfold. His hand rested protectively on your knee, a gentle reminder of his presence amidst the boisterous crowd. Every so often, his thumb would brush over your skin, sending little sparks of warmth through you—a silent conversation only the two of you shared.
Tonight had been long, filled with laughter and the gentle teasing that came with friends who were more like family. The warmth of the room, the comfort of Azriel’s presence, and the steady hum of chatter began to lull you into a soft haze of drowsiness. You blinked, trying to keep up with the game and the playful banter, but the edges of your vision grew fuzzy.
“Alright, next round—Y/N, you in?” Cassian’s booming voice cut through your thoughts, and you jolted slightly, blinking up at him. You caught a smirk playing at the corners of Azriel’s lips as he watched you try to focus.
You nodded, fighting off the sleep tugging at your eyelids. “I’m... I’m in.”
Azriel leaned down, his voice a soft whisper meant only for you. “You don’t have to stay awake, you know. No one will mind.”
You shook your head, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips. “I’m fine, I want to—” but your words trailed off, and you let out a soft yawn, snuggling closer to his warmth.
Rhysand, watching from across the table, exchanged a knowing look with Feyre. “I think someone’s had enough for the night,” he teased gently, his voice full of amusement.
You rolled your eyes playfully, though you could barely keep them open. “I’m still awake,” you mumbled, but even as you said it, your head lolled onto Azriel’s shoulder.
Azriel chuckled softly, a sound so rare and reserved that it made your heart flutter even in your sleepy state. He shifted slightly, wrapping an arm around you and adjusting so you could rest more comfortably against him. His shadows swirled gently around your form, like a protective blanket, shielding you from the noise and commotion.
“Go to sleep,” Azriel murmured, his lips brushing your temple. “I’ll be here.”
You managed a small nod, your eyes finally closing as you let the comfort of his presence envelop you. You could faintly hear Cassian’s mock protests, something about you being too adorable and stealing all of Azriel’s attention, but it was all a distant hum now.
Azriel’s arm tightened around you slightly, his other hand resting on the table as he continued to play with the others, only now with a slight shift—every move, every decision made with one arm still holding you close. He didn’t miss a beat, keeping his cool demeanor even as his thumb absentmindedly stroked your arm.
“She’s out,” Mor whispered with a fond smile, glancing over at you, your breathing even and peaceful against Azriel’s side.
Azriel simply nodded, a soft, rare smile gracing his lips as he gazed down at you. “She’s had a long day,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a gentle affection that made everyone else around the table exchange knowing glances.
They continued the game, softer now, as if instinctively not wanting to disturb you. Azriel never moved, never faltered, keeping you cradled against him as you slept, a silent sentinel in the midst of the cheerful gathering.
To anyone else, it might have seemed insignificant, but for Azriel, this was everything—having you close, safe, and resting in the warmth of the bond you shared. As the night wore on, Azriel stayed right where he was, his heart content and his gaze occasionally drifting from the game to the peaceful rise and fall of your breaths. He could feel the bond thrumming softly between you, a steady, soothing reminder that you were his, and he was yours.
And in that quiet moment, as the laughter continued around the table and the stars shone brightly outside, Azriel knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
#azriel x female!reader#azriel x reader#azriel x reader fluff#azriel x oc#azriel x you#acotar reader imagine#acotar#imagine fluff
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too sweet ☆ jay park
☆ bad boy! jay x nerd! fem! reader ☆ summary: after months of an on-and-off relationship with you, jay feared that he'd hurt you. you know that he won't. maybe a few sweet words (and kisses) could convince him. ☆ genre: angst to fluff, suggestive, inexperienced! reader (-ish), jay is really really really DOWN BAD, insecurities ☆ warning(s)? n/a ☆ word count: 2.0k words ☆ everyone clap for hozier’s “too sweet," for my starved jay stans
reblogs and feedback are appreciated!!
"So, you're telling me that you want us to end?"
Jay sucked in a sharp breath, clasping his hands together. "That's not what I mean."
You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him. The thin gold chain hanging around his neck kissed his honey gold skin deliciously, his silvery hair falling over his brows. You watched as Jay rubbed his knuckles, his jaw clenching with each thought that ran through his mind.
"Then what do you mean?"
If he thought that you'd ever let him go, he was insane.
Jay took a moment to think, before words tumbled from his lips in a slow drawl, as if he was afraid of them.
"We can't be together because I'll hurt you," he said simply.
Jay watched your expression closely, eyeing your swollen lips— God, were they perfect, like always— as they curled. He could hear the cogs turning in your head, and for a second, Jay thought that he could win the fight.
You and Jay met under rather interesting circumstances. He was slacking in his classes, running the risk of not passing the semester, so the counselors stepped in and had you to help.
At first, Jay thought you were the most insufferable snob there was. But the next thing he knew, he was pinning you against the wall, hungrily kissing you like he was a starved man and you were his salvation. There was always something so intoxicating about you, the way you were able to chide into his ear why he was failing his classes, yet stayed silent with wide, innocent eyes as his fingers squeezed your thighs. Jay longed for the way you could read him like a book, the way that your black pawns stacked up against him, cornering his white king that made it impossible to escape, all the while holding a polite smile on your face.
It was always unconventional; how could the school's most notorious slacker and shady delinquent even be in the same room as the smartest girl?
Everyone seemed to have something to say about it, and for a second, Jay couldn't help but drink up every word, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss that was his mind.
You were too good for him. You had everything laid out for you, you were just perfect. He wasn't. He was troubled, and stupid, and brash.
He was mean and bitter, you were bright and sweet.
So sweet.
Too sweet.
"You'll hurt me?" you scoffed again, looking at him incredulously.
Under your critical gaze, Jay nearly faltered, as if this wasn't the millionth time that he reconsidered this entire conversation, as if he didn't crave your touch every waking second.
Just ten minutes ago, you were on top of him, your fingers tangled in his hair, ravaging his lips like they were your last meal. Knowing that he was the one that taught you that— how to devour him like a starved hyena— made him feel dizzy.
"When have you ever hurt me?" you pressed, your face pinched.
It was only when your delicate fingers began to unbutton his shirt, soft, but desperate, breaths brushing up against his collarbone, that Jay gently pushed you away, taking you off of his lap and letting you sit beside him on your bed.
"I haven't," Jay swallowed the lump in his throat, unable to ignore the nerves bundling in his stomach, gnawing at him, almost like they were screaming at him to stop. "But I can, a-and I know I will if we don't stop seeing each other."
"What makes you think that?"
Jay chewed on his lip, thinking about his next move.
Loving you was like playing a game, a game where life and death were at stake. He was willing to roll every dice and destroy every odd if it meant being with you.
You were stone-faced, save for the questioning quirk of your eyebrows, but Jay knew better.
The moment that the words "I think we should break up" left his lips, Jay could see your pawns retreating; he could see the way that your walls were beginning to come up again, the cage wrapped around your heart tightened, and all he wanted to do was hold you and apologize.
But he couldn't, because this was for the best.
He'd rather hurt you once, than hurt you a million more times in the future.
He was afraid of himself, of what his hands could do, of what tears you would shed over him.
He was fundamentally flawed, someone who could not be fixed. That was something that both you and him needed to accept.
"You know me," Jay murmured, his eyes glued to the fluffy carpet on the floor. He couldn't look you in the eye after this, after hurting you. "I'm not good for you."
You stayed silent for a few pulses, only the sound of your shaky breath filling Jay's ears.
Then, you reached out for him. But, the moment that you soft fingers met his shoulder, Jay violently flinched away.
He knew that if he let you touch him, he'd never be able to pull away.
"Jay..." Your voice was small, and when he looked up to see your face, your brows were furrowed together. You looked hurt, and he wanted to punch himself; he wanted to melt into your warmth, feel your hands on his skin, and taste the paradise that was your lips.
You slowly retracted your hand, something that made Jay's heart ache.
"Sorry..." he mumbled, quickly averting his gaze once again. After today, he didn't deserve to look at you.
Another few pulses pass in sheer silence, a silence so suffocating that Jay felt his throat tighten.
"Did it mean anything to you?" you finally asked shakily.
"W-What?"
"Did anything that we did at least mean something to you?"
The word "yes" almost came spilling out of his mouth, eager to prove to you that he indeed loved you— loved you enough to save you. But, Jay stopped himself.
You would never take an explanation that didn't make sense. You'd push and push and push until you got the truth.
He couldn't draw this out any longer, or else he'd crack.
"No," Jay pushed out of his mouth, grimacing at the bitter taste on his tongue.
He heard you take in a breath, before you clicked your tongue.
You didn't believe him, and you weren't going to take no for an answer.
"Tell me the truth," you murmured. "All those times we've kissed, why would you kiss me first if it meant nothing?"
He really couldn't do this, he couldn't lie to you.
"W-Well, it's because you're always close to me." Horrible explanation, and he knew it.
You cocked a brow. "No one’s forcing you to kiss me."
Jay gulped. You were reading him like a book, seeing right through him.
"Any man in my position would kiss you," he stammered, unaware that the way his nose scrunched gave him away. Jay's eyes glazed over you. God, you were just so beautiful. "I mean, look at you."
His ears burned with shame, blinking back hot tears that brimmed his eyes. He couldn't believe that he was actually doing this, purposefully lying to your face. He felt disgusting; weak. You were the first person that he's ever loved, the first person that made him feel all sorts of weird, giddy feelings, the first person that made him feel safe and loved. He was ruining it for himself, but he'd rather ruin himself than ruin you. After this, how was he ever going to recover? He couldn't imagine his life without you, not after feeling your warmth, not after having the privilege of seeing you beneath him, pretty eyes filled with stars gazing up at him—
If Jay wasn't so caught up in his head, he'd notice the way that you observed his flickering expression, before suddenly climbing back onto Jay.
"H-Hey—!"
You pushed Jay down onto the bed so that he was lying on his back, sitting right on his abdomen, pinning him down for good.
"You're a horrible liar," you muttered before grabbing his face, pressing sticky kisses against his jaw.
No, no, no! This isn't supposed to happen! You're supposed to hate him!
Your lips trailed from his jaw to the crook right below his ear, the spot that you knew was Jay's sensitive spot. You bit down just enough to make Jay let out a high-pitched sigh. You pulled away, admiring the purple-pink mark you left on his skin, before trailing down to the birthmark on his neck. You ran your tongue over the heart-shaped mark. Jay's hand jerked out for your waist, squeezing it.
"B-Baby..." he breathed, slipping back into his habit of using that name for you. His mind was doing everything in its power to resist you, but all he could do was tilt his head back to give you better access to his neck.
"Baby?" you purred against the shell of his ear. "Thought I didn't mean anything to you."
"I— Shit, don't do that, Baby—" you slid your hand under his shirt, your lips making vulgar noises as it attached to his honey skin.
"I don't fucking care if you hurt me," you spat in his ear, and chills ran down his spine. Since when were you so... obscene?
What has he done to you, for you to start off as an innocent and curious girl and end up shamelessly touching him? Had he corrupted you too much?
"You said you wanted to give me the best firsts?" your voice was so harsh, so mean that Jay almost questioned how someone so sweet could be so ruthless. It also made him question why in the hell it made his stomach do a flip. You bit down on a collarbone. "Then stop being a pussy and just let me love you."
Jay threw his head back, letting a groan escape his lips. God, how was he going to win this? How was he going to ignore the shudder of his shoulders as you touched him? How was he going to act like his body wasn't yearning for you?
"I'm pretty and you know it," you rasped in his ear. "So stop resisting me."
Your words were candied, sweet like syrup, seeping into his head and swaying all resolve he had. He almost gave in. Almost.
"L-Look, I know you’re hot and all," it took every fiber in Jay's being to not give into your tantalizing lips, "B-But you know this is wrong."
You hummed against his skin. "But I don't."
Jay's rendered speechless when you press your hips against his, squeezing his eyes shut. His stomach did a flip, a wave of heat coursing through his body. It felt electric, it felt wrong.
"I don't know that this is wrong, and even if I did, I wouldn't care" your tone is so soft, so innocent, but your actions were so dirty. "Ignorance is bliss."
Jay opened his mouth to let more dumb words pour out, dumb words that were his final (and extremely futile) attempt to restrain himself, but his breath got caught in his throat when they ran your hands through his silver hair, gripping it and pulling it back. You held his head in place by his hair. The sensation of pain on his scalp was delicious, enough to make him feel like putty in the palm of your hands.
"If you don’t stop," his voice was airy and high-pitched now, labored breaths escaping his lips. He wasn't going to win this fight. He never was going to in the first place, not when you were his opponent, "I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."
"Then don't," you said simply against his neck. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Your eyes were wide and shiny, innocently staring up at him. Your voice was so pretty and sweet, so sweet that he couldn't believe that you were doing and saying all these things to him. "Don't control yourself."
As Jay fell back into the comfort of the mattress, letting heat spread across his chest and face as you hungrily sunk your teeth into what was his heart, his Adam's apple bobbed.
You were too sweet for him, too sweet for a bitter person like him.
He wouldn't mind getting tooth decay, yeah?
#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen fic#jay enhypen x reader#jay enhypen#jay park#jay fluff#jay imagines#jay fic#jay enhypen fic#jay enhypen fluff#jay x reader#park jay#park jay fluff#park jay x reader#park jongseong#park jongseong fluff#park jongseong fic#star-sim#vanya-writes
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Never in a million years did Steve Harrington think he'd be standing in the drama club room in front of Eddie the Freak--who's sitting on a goddamn throne with his full lips pulled into a smug grin--asking to be taught how to play Dorks and Goblins. Yet, here he is, face a burning shade of crimson, as he explains for the sixth time what, exactly, he needs.
"Munson, it's not that hard. Henderson wants me to play in the--the game thingy they're doing when Will is home for a visit."
"Yeah, Harrington, and I stop listening every time you call it a game thingy. You obviously don't care about this at all, so why should I waste my time helping you?"
Steve rolls his eyes. "What if I pay you?"
Munson's face goes through a complicated series of changes before falling into a neutral mask, no smirk or teasing smile to be found. "You'll pay me to teach you dnd? Are you fucking kidding?"
"No?' Steve draws a hand through his hair, watches as Munson's dark eyes track the movement. "I thought you might help me out cause those kids never shut-up about you, but I'm willing to put money on it."
"Huh," Eddie says. He steeples his fingers under his chin. "Maybe I misjudged you, Harrington."
Steve lets himself smile at this. "I don't think you did. I don't give a shit about this game."
"Didn't take you for one to have a bunch of nerdy child friends."
"I'm their babysitter," he says, realizes immediately it was a mistake.
Eddie cackles until it turns into a full-bodied laugh, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "You are something else, Harrington," he manages.
For his part, Steve hopes Munson hasn't noticed how bright red his face is. "Does that mean you'll help me?"
"I guess," he rolls his eyes. "But if you're just screwing around, I'm out."
"No, yeah, totally," Steve nods too hard, sends his hair cascading into his face. "Sounds good. How much?"
"Huh?" Eddie tilts his face up, giving Steve a perfect view of the smattering of faint freckles across the bridge of his nose.
"I said I'd pay you. What's the going rate for dnd lessons?"
"Oh, nah, free of charge, Harrington. Henderson would eat me alive if he knew I made you pay."
The smile they share is soft, tentative, and Steve doesn't notice the swathes of pink decorating Eddie's pale cheekbones.
---
They meet up in the drama room after the last bell. Eddie is waiting on the throne with his feet propped on the table, sipping a Mt. Dew. His eyes widen when Steve walks into the room.
"You're on time," he says.
Steve scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Eddie shrugs, sets his feet on the floor. "Just wasn't aware that the King put a lot of stock in punctuality."
"C'mon, man, I'm trying not to be that guy, and I'm definitely not king of anything. Unless maybe it's Family Video, but even then, that's Robin."
"You're kind of weird, Harrington, you know that?" Eddie's dimples bracket his smile. The sight does weird things in Steve's chest.
"I've been told, yeah." Steve smiles back. "Where do we start?"
They start with dice, with a character sheet.
"Chaotic-good human Paladin?" Eddie asks.
He shrugs. "That's what Dustin keeps screaming at me. I got no idea what any of it means."
"That's not entirely true," Eddie says. "You've kept up with me so far."
"Yeah, that's you. Dustin rambles and then accuses me of not listening when it's over my head. When he goes on long enough, I start to get a headache right here," Steve rubs the spot between his eyes.
"That kid," Eddie says with the right combination of affection and frustration. "I don't know, you seem to have picked up on some of the stuff he said. You have a solid idea on gameplay, at least. I'd say you're doing pretty good."
"Thanks," Steve laughs. "No migraine yet, so that's a point in your favor."
"Migraines?"
"Head trauma."
"Byers?"
"And Hargrove."
"That was Hargrove?" Eddie asks.
"Hit me in the head with a plate."
"What the fuck."
"He was pissed that Max was friends with Lucas. He came after them. I couldn't just let him--I think he would've killed Lucas."
Eddie nods, hands fiddling with a die. "No wonder those kids love you," he says.
"We've been through some shit together."
"Guess it makes more sense why you wanted to learn dnd."
"As much as it pains me to admit," Steve rolls his eyes. "I love to make those little shitheads happy."
"Well, based on the way they talk about you, you succeed."
"You too, you know?" Steve offers. "All I've heard about the last three months is 'Eddie's so cool,' 'Hellfire's so fun.'"
"Jealous?" Eddie laughs.
"Completely," Steve admits.
"Don't worry, Harrington, I'll make a nerd out of you yet."
---
They meetup after school every day they can over the next two weeks. At first, Steve is surprised that he doesn't really mind spending so much time with Munson, that he actually, kind of, has fun. And the more time they spend together, the more Eddie infiltrates his space. Leans into Steve's side as they sit next to each other, brushes their hands together, hovers over his shoulder, faces nearly touching, as he checks stuff on Steve's character sheet.
It makes Steve feel--well, it makes him think of what it would be like to run his fingers through the soft gloss of Eddie's curls; wonders what that plump mouth would be like pressed against his own; can't stop thinking about if Eddie is as vocal in bed as he is everywhere else. He knows he also likes guys, has for a while, but he's never in his life wanted someone this viscerally; so much he can feel the ache of it in his teeth.
It's the last day before the campaign for Will, and Steve is fucking sad. He thinks maybe Eddie is too. He's at least quieter than normal, explanations not at their usual fever pitch. An hour before they usually call it quits, he claps his hands together (too gently, too unlike himself), says, "That's it, Harrington. You're not going to be more ready than this."
"Right," Steve says. Can't help his eyes from darting over Eddie's face, aching to know what he's thinking. "You'll be there tomorrow?"
Eddie bends his head over his notebooks. "Nah, I don't need to intrude."
"But--"
"It's okay, Stevie. I get that it's family only." He looks like he really means it, but his eyes are sad, don't shine like they should.
Steve doesn't know what to say to that, just nods, and then there's nothing else. They stare at each other for a few very long, quiet seconds, before Eddie says, "I'll see you around, Harrington."
"Right, yeah. You too." And he walks out of the drama room with the heaviest heart he thinks he's ever had.
---
Steve thinks he won't miss Eddie. That if he doesn't dwell on those hours spent with Eddie, learning dnd, that the missing will go away.
It doesn't.
Which is how he finds himself back at the high school on Wednesday, standing in front of the drama room door, willing himself to go inside. Eddie's on the throne, the typical notebooks and binders and Mt. Dew cans clustered around him, but he's not engrossed in imagining up a new campaign for Hellfire. No, his head is in his hands, knees drawn up to his chest.
"Eddie?" Steve asks.
His head pops up, and even in the low light, Steve notices the silvery tracks of tears down his cheeks.
"Steve! What are you--" he hastily wipes at his face with his shirt sleeve. "What are you doing here?"
Steve's acting only on instinct, crossing the room and dropping to his knees, taking Eddie's jaw between his palms, thumbing away the wetness on his cheeks.
"Did someone hurt you?" he asks.
Eddie's laugh is wet. "Nah, Harrington. I only have myself to blame for this one."
"Can I do anything?"
"Are you trying to kill me?"
"Sorry?"
"You, Steve Harrington, kind and compassionate? Learn dnd to make your little nerd friends happy? Who are you?"
"I'm just me, man," Steve blushes. "But, uh, I came to thank you." He's still holding Eddie's face in his hands, can't help but notice the way he flushes, how his dark eyes dart away from Steve's.
"I really liked hanging out with you," Steve says. This close to Eddie, his mind doesn't quite feel like his own. All he can think of is big eyes, soft curls, full lips.
"Yo--you did?"
"So much," Steve whispers. He doesn't quite remember moving, but now their foreheads are pressed together, warm breath mingling, lips almost, almost touching.
"I liked it too," Eddie breathes. After a few seconds, he laughs. "Knew I'd make a nerd out of you, Harrington."
"Shut-up," Steve laughs.
"Make me," Eddie says, and it's just that easy. Steve crosses the space still separating them, presses his mouth against Eddie's.
The kiss is slow, exploratory, the gentle discovery of how they fit together, the promise of all the things they can do in the future, all the pleasure they can bring.
"I'm not a nerd," Steve says when they part.
"No, you're right. You're like a nerd by marriage. Nerd-in-law," Eddie giggles. His eyes are bright, face pink, the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen.
"Shut-up," Steve giggles right back.
Eddie raises an eyebrow, the dare obvious, and Steve doesn't hesitate to kiss him again.
"You wanna get out of here?" Steve asks when they part, significantly more breathless, jeans significantly tighter, than when he arrived.
"You're gonna have to role persuasion for that, Stevie," Eddie smirks.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#fluff#ficlet#oneshot#dnd lessons#falling in love#mutual pining#eddie's down so bad#first kiss#secret nerd steve harrington#i don't know anything about dnd actually so sorry if it's wrong#strangers to friends to lovers#alternate first meeting#big eyes soft curls full lips can't lose#“shut up��� “make me” is a love language
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— isn’t it delicate?
luke castellan x fem!reader
warnings: a little bit of fighting
summary: how did game night turn into your first kiss with the boy you’ve been crushing on at camp?
a/n: it’s kind of all over the place and i didn’t proofread it so i apologize ahead of time!
this ain't for the best
across the dim-lit cabin eleven, luke could still spot your twinkling eyes that were attracted to the dice rolling in front of you. the euphonious laughter coming from your lips sounded like music to his ears. how your head slowly tilted backwards before catching your balance and opening your mouth once again.
my reputation's never been worse, so
he thanked the “gods” that your cabin agreed to game night as he was almost begging on his knees to your half-siblings that it was a once-in-a-summer experience and they would miss out.
he wasn’t lying, with the stoll twins creating a game tournament behind the little white lie that hermes cabin was just introducing the newbies to fun sleepovers for bonding and friend making, to keep chiron happy and out of their business.
you must like me for me
lounging around in his cabin, trying to take his mind off of the possibility of your cabin, more importantly, you entering the door, luke was making everyone’s beds. as an annoying chore that all the campers avoided, they dared not to interfere or ask him why he was rapidly fluffing pillows and folding blankets.
we can't make
but as his best friend, chris put a hand on his shoulder and spun him around. “you can calm down y’know. it’s only like—six o’clock only.” he pointed to the clock above the treacherously haunting front door. luke sighed and sat down on one of the beds, running his hands through his dark curls.
any promises now, can we, babe?
“but this was the perfect opportunity!” he suddenly exclaimed but quickly lowered his voice once surrounding campers looked at him.
“perfect opportunity to do what exactly? you’ve talked to her like twice—at a max three if you count her saying hi to you this morning.” chris reminded and sat beside the sulking boy. he yet again put a hand on his shoulder, giving a little reassuring pat.
but you can make me a drink
luke faced his best friend to respond but there was a knock at the door that interrupted him. chris thanked whoever it was, or else he would’ve had to witness luke spiral and start his crazy overthinking. a camper near the door went to go reach for the handle but a loud voice stopped him.
“wait! i-i’ll get it!” luke jumped from his seat, giving chris a scare.
dive bar on the east side, where you at?
he rushed to the door as the startled camper now backed away, obviously not wanting to go against the cabin counselor. before turning the handle, he took a deep breath and slightly adjusted his hair. chris mentally cringed at the sight of his best friend being so nervous, yet it was quite funny.
phone lights up my nightstand in the black
mr. cool guy, head counselor, and ‘best swordsman’ at camp was nervous about whether a cabin accepted his proposal of joining hermes’ cabin for a night of monopoly and poker. yes, possibly hilarious even. stifling a laugh, he watched luke open the door with a resounding sense of false confidence.
around ten to twenty campers of all ages were standing in front of him with pillows, blankets, and snacks in hand. for a moment, he was frozen.
come here, you can meet me in the back
not in fright, he’d seen most of these kids wincing on the ground during sword training or fall of the rock wall mid climb, he was the one teaching and catching them.
he was stunned because you weren’t in sight.
“welcome! you guys can chill and relax, meet your friends, and start on games! luke and i will be there in a bit!” someone announced from behind him, alarming just a little. but he easily recognized the voice of his best friend saving his ass.
dark jeans and your nikes, look at you
the excitedly hyper campers burst into the cabin, amping up the noise a couple levels. while they were coming in, luke was stuck in a trance once more but not cause of jitters or worry but because of you and your mere presence.
oh damn, never seen that color blue
as the campers of your cabin were entering the blaring room, you found luke’s eyes. softening your expression, you smiled at the familiar face.
dazed, luke stood straight until chris nudged his side and returned to attending to the campers as promised. leaving the two of you alone and the lack of luke’s acknowledgement of your existence, you decided to clear the awkward air.
just think of the fun things we could do
(cause i like you)
“hey luke.” maintaining your sweet demeanor, you closed the door behind you from letting in more of the cool summer air into the warm cabin.
this ain't for the best
as if someone snapped their fingers, luke blinked and returned to reality. his chest rose while he took another deep breath to calm himself and returned your smile.
“y/n, you came!” he regretted his choice of words and tone the second it came out of his mouth. gritting his teeth, he swore to let you do most of the talking from now on.
my reputation's never been worse, so
“of course i did! i’m known as the ‘monopoly master’ so you know i just had to come to defend my honor.” you emphasized the ‘had’ but deep down you knew it was a simple yes or no question when your cabin asked if you wanted to go. as cabin counselor, you were supposed to always keep an eye on the campers but it was just one night anyway.
you must like me for me (yeah, i want you)
you debated it in your head, did you really want to leave your cozy bed next to your best friends to play some board games with chaotic and overexcited children who were some of the worst sore losers you’ve ever encountered? no.
we can't make
but before you could refuse, your best friend stepped in. in a sing-songy voice, she added a detail that may have swayed your decision making just an inch.
any promises now, can we, babe?
“hermes cabin is hosting it—aka castellan’s cabin.” she smiled at her comment and crossed her eyes with both eyebrows raised. waiting for your answer, you bit your lip and looked to the floor.
okay, so spending your night with campers full of sugar and crying sore losers but luke castellan possibly sparing you a glance and perhaps maybe even a few words? fine, you’d make an appearance.
but you can make me a drink
now here you were, both of your maybes becoming certainly’s. your words were coming out quickly, way faster than you wanted them to. were you rambling? no. yes. no. definitely.
is it cool that i said all that?
why in the heavens did you just say ‘monopoly master’?! why was he not speaking? was he just being friendly by saying hi? of course he was.
is it chill that you're in my head?
you looked away in search of your friends or anyone at this point to make this conservation a little less awkward. but everyone was already sitting and playing games or conversing with each other. you cursed your head for telling you to come, how did you possibly think that he would talk to yo—
a laugh.
he was laughing with the brightest smile ever, his eyes still remaining on yours though. he had one of those contagious laughs, immediately urging you to join him. you couldn’t help yourself but follow, making the both of you look like two crazy idiots laughing at nothing but air.
'cause i know that it's delicate (delicate)
“well i think we better see if your honor will be challenged later tonight, miss ‘monopoly master’” he replied and gave a light-hearted grin.
you could’ve sworn that your heart just fluttered and there was something flying in your stomach. catching your breath, you walked towards the laid out board games where luke was right on your tail. his footsteps were only inches from yours, wanting to be close to you as possible.
is it cool that i said all that?
now luke was admiring your laugh once again. someone would’ve had to drag him with all their strength out of that cabin before his eyes were peeled off of you.
unbeknownst to you, he had been staring ever since the game had began. opting out of this round, he joined chris’ team mid game but remained quiet the rest of the time.
is it too soon to do this yet?
you couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t speaking. he was usually peppy and very talkative, so you’ve heard and seen, but never really experienced. luke was very popular in every group, with the kids who saw him as a role model, those who saw him as their fearless counselor, and especially the girls who fawned over him and his every move (you).
'cause i know that it's delicate
so why was the socially favored extrovert sitting still, fiddling his thumbs from time to time. keeping your head in the game, you could only look up whenever it was chris’ turn, using it as an excuse to peek at him who was almost like a shadow.
isn’t it, isn't it, isn't it?
with such little lighting, only his facial features were highlighted from the candle next to luke. you didn’t mind though as his sharp nose, faint scar and rare flash of a smile were still in view.
isn’t it?
suddenly there was a furious roar of thunder outside, enough to get your attention. you felt an elbow nudge you to the right, making you turn to face your best friend next to you. she leaned in, making sure no one except you heard her whisper.
“are you gonna to go or just keep drooling and dreaming about your boy?”
isn’t it, isn't it, isn't it?
only your eyes widened, now staring back at your friend, dumbfounded. she gave you a ‘stop making it obvious and go!’ look and you kept your eyes down, on the monopoly board. grabbing the two dice and rolling for your turn, you moved your piece and unfortunately landed on a space that chris occupied.
isn’t it delicate?
you groaned in both not wanting to lose and the inconvenience that the universe continued to hand you. however, chris was everything but disappointed, two seconds away from jumping up and down in excitement. you had somehow avoided getting caught in someone else’s city for about ten turns in a row, but now you were stuck by the person you were actually avoiding.
or at least his team member’s.
third floor on the west side, me and you
paying in full to a happy chris, you didn’t catch luke’s chuckle at your expense. not in a ‘ha ha we’re going to win’ way but because of how upset you truly looked. he thought it was cute how badly you wanted to strangle chris for costing you six-hundred million and potentially the win.
“seems like your winning streak is coming to an end!” chris implied and put his hands together as if he was thanking you.
handsome, you're a mansion with a view
you narrowed your eyes, just adding fuel to the fire of your competitive nature. for gods sake, you were an ares kid. tonight, it sure didn’t seem like it though. with your stumbling introduction and now your downfall in monopoly!
“what is the meaning of this!”
everyone collectively jumped and stopped what they were doing, no matter if it was playing cards, a pillow fight, shoving candies in their mouths, or jumping on the beds. even without turning, the voice was evident in its owner: mr. d.
do the girls back home touch you like i do?
“i want everyone in their cabins now! ares cabin return and go to bed right this instance. i will check to see if you are all there, with the lights off soon.” he demanded in a stern voice, forcing your cabin to rapidly grab their belongings and run out the door, unable to even say their ‘goodbye’s.’
long night with your hands up in my hair
“hermes cabin, i want you all to clean this mess up in no more than an hour. i will also come to check that this place is tidy as earlier and that you are all in bed, sleeping. all of you will receive punishments tomorrow morning at six am in the mess hall. do not be late.” he continued, but the last of words left campers moaning and muttering in defeat.
echoes of your footsteps on the stairs
you were collecting your campers and pushing them towards the exit, about to do the same yourself until chiron interfered.
“not you, ms. y/l/n.”
slowly turning to look up in confusion, he continued. “as head counselor of ares cabin, you know the responsibility you earn with that title, correct?”
stay here, honey, i don't wanna share
putting your head down, you avoided his eye contact but nodded. you caught one of the last campers and told them to do as they were told and you would be back soon.
“mr. castellan, i want to speak to you as well.” he insisted and luke reluctantly made his way next to you. something he would never refuse to.
this ain't for the best
“i’m very disappointed in the both of you. knowing both of you were the head counselors of your cabins, i thought you would do the best in keeping them in order and avoiding such events but i was clearly mistaken. c’mon guys, there are only like five major camp rules!” he explained, putting his fingers to his temples and crossing his eyes.
my reputation's never been worse, so
briefly giving each other glances, you mouthed ‘we’re so screwed’ to luke who seemed very relaxed compared to your tense figure. sure, you��d gotten in trouble maybe once or twice but first of all, that was trouble by yourself which meant not costing your entire cabin punishment and it was very unintentionally, making mr. d let you off the hook since it was your first offense.
you must like me for me (yeah, i want you)
however, those were the only times you had ever been caught. there were countless times where you had secretly broken the rules by sleeping in your other friends’ cabins, entering the forest by yourself, switching your seat during meals, and staying in your cabin past eleven at night. one that you have broken yet again.
in response to your nervousness, luke smirked.
we can't make
‘why the hell are you smiling?’ you mouthed but he looked at mr. d now, quite mischievously if you may add.
“mr. d, we terribly apologize for the inconvenience and we swear to never do this ever again, this will be the first and only time.” luke spoke with such sincerity in his tone. he only prayed that mr. d could not detect his lie of it being his first to host.
any promises now, can we, babe?
“well thank you luke, but you two are stil—”
“we are so sorry that we thought it would be best if we made it up to you. perhaps that bottle of 1985 château haut-brion in the galley that has been calling your name ever since it arrived?” luke swiftly suggested, eyebrows raised in persuasion.
but you can make me a drink
mr. d stood invested in luke every word, deeply interested in his statement. he took a breath, almost coming to a realization that luke was trying to bribe him but then he put his index finger to his finger, actually thinking about the offer.
is it cool that i said all that?
you were shocked, in the least. luke castellan was not only a troublemaker and a liar but a hell of a good one. in any of other circumstance, you would be hesitant about bringing up such a suggestion to mr. d but if it meant no punishment for you or luke then you were all for it.
is it chill that you're in my head?
“mr. d, when was the last time you’ve had wine? c’mon you and i both know that diet coke won’t cut it for tonight, i mean it’s friday night!” you stepped in and added in on the coercion.
following your voice, mr. d’s head whipped to face you, definitely tipping the scale towards a ‘yes’ now. luke watched proud at you chasing his suggestion, now with full confidence in his chest.
'cause i know that it's delicate (delicate)
“are two seriously saying that you guys would go down to the galley…get that merlot…and bring it back here to me…?” he repeated and narrowed his eyes.
for a second, you guys were back into your frozen positions until mr. d responded to himself. “cause if you guys are going to do that, then we can just forget about all this.” he admitted, sort of laughing at the mess around the cabin.
is it cool that i said all that?
after agreeing to your end of the bargain, mr. d had let you both off the hook. by the time everything was settled, the campers had finished cleaning up and everyone was ready for bed. therefore, in order to not disturb them, the two of you took a moment outside before you had to run back to ares cabin.
is it too soon to do this yet?
the cabin luckily had an overhead covering near the front door, creating a safety net for you two from the rain. it was raining heavy, yet it wasn’t cold and the summer air still remained. it always rained on the first week of august, like a set reminder to the campers that time was slipping away.
'cause i know that it's delicate
both of you were already slightly drenched from running to the galley and back but using the trees and several camp buildings on the way, you managed to stay quite dry. you couldn’t say the same for luke though, he shook his wet hair to dry off, in search and need of a towel.
“jesus—you’re acting like a wet dog.” you commented and kept moving your head to dodge the water droplets flicking in your direction. trying to maintain a straight face, you kept a tight-lipped smile but laughs slipped from your lips.
isn’t it, isn't it, isn't it?
“why you don’t like it? you’re getting a free shower right now, i think you should be grateful!”
his sarcasm was abundant and stepped closer to you while matching your laughter. you backed up into the outer cabin wall, as he continued to approach until he was only inches away from your face. even with the rain surrounding the pair, you could hear his breathing after his laughs.
isn’t it?
he stayed with a smile on his face, such admiration found in his eyes while staring at you. automatically there was a tug on the corners of your lips, a genuine smile creeping onto your face. he gently moved a strand of hair out of your face, placing it behind your ear.
isn’t it, isn't it, isn't it?
you stayed put, reaching out to the wall supporting your weight. your heart sped up as he got closer, feeling his body heat on yours. you parted your lips to speak but he beat you to it.
“you’re beautiful.”
isn’t it delicate?
his words melted into you, the only warmth in the middle of the rain. you blinked three times before confirming that this was reality, it wasn’t a dream or a fantasy, it was real.
luke castellan had just called you beautiful. the man you were crushing over since he’d pinned you on the ground in capture the flag last year.
sometimes i wonder, when you sleep
no one had ever dared to come near you, too much in fear how old easily you could defeat them. but luke liked a challenge, thus he went straight for it and ignored the rest of plan. something he would definitely pay for later by a pissed annabeth.
he found you in the middle of the forest, the closest person to guarding your team’s flag. he had battled a couple of rouge kids on the way, effortlessly blocking and knocking them down.
are you ever dreaming of me?
he took pride in his swordsmanship and ability to fight, when he first arrived, all he would do was train and practice, day and night.
all of it paid off though in the end, earning the title of ‘best swordsman at camp’ and being quite the deal when it came to activities like capture the flag. however, campers still came at luke, sword in hand. while you were all alone, the only thing accompanying you being the geckos that slithered in the area.
sometimes when i look into your eyes
as a child of ares, you most definitely had a temper, but otherwise you were known to be one of the more ‘composed’ siblings unlike clarisse who would fight a bug that got in her way. you stood out because of your swordsman skills though, climbing up the ranking until you were right below luke.
on the day of capture the flag, you swore that you would beat him and then steal the title he so proudly wore. but when he did arrive to your position near the flag, he didn’t cower in fear or come straight charging at you.
i pretend you're mine all the damn time
instead he casually walked towards you, sword in hand of course but he didn’t even hold it up. he held it like some sort of an accessory, as if he’d never held one before. almost excited to see a person after hours of waiting though, you instantly jumped at the opportunity, discarding his relaxed posture.
is it cool that i said all that?
gripping your sword, you charged first, something you usually did not do but the greed in achieving the title made you think otherwise. he bested you though, eventually proving himself to you why he was known as the ‘best swordsman at camp.’ he ran off with the flag while you were left with a gash on your right arm.
is it chill that you're in my head?
even though after his team won the game and luke had beat you at your most respected trait, he immediately approached you afterwards. this time, he wasn’t holding a sword or wearing armor but just his camp shirt and cheery demeanor. you could’ve bet that it wasn’t him and a completely different camper.
“hey, i’m really sorry about what happened back there. is your arm okay?” he asked, now with worry in his voice like he was one of your close friends or half-siblings.
'cause i know that it's delicate (delicate)
you looked at him weird, confused at the sudden switch-up in his actions. “y-yeah i’m fine.” you responded and looked to join your half-siblings in plotting some devious revenge or something.
but he grabbed your wrist, making sure to not hold the wrong arm. “are you sure? i can walk you to the nurse if you want?” he insisted and pointed to the infirmary that was just down the path.
(yeah, i want you)
“seriously i’m fine.” you continued. it wasn’t like you hated the guy but for someone who just swung a sword at your face and cut your arm, he was surprisingly considerate.
“oh—okay. you were really good out there, i’ve never met anyone else at camp who had their sword so close to my neck.” he joked, attempting to clear the seriously awkward air.
is it cool that i said all that?
you have him a half smile, trying to take his off in lightening the mood. “thanks, i can clearly see why you’re the ‘best swordsman at camp.’” to which he lightly chuckled.
“yeah yeah, but i think you might take that title from me next time!” he mentioned. you couldn’t even tell if he was being sarcastic or not, too distracted with his charming smile.
is it too soon to do this yet?
after that day, luke castellan had been stuck in your mind. you’d see him in the mess hall during meals and passing on campus with his friends, but you never got the courage to talk to him again like you did after capture the flag. maybe it was because you were so annoyed and he just happened to be the first person you ran into! whatever it was, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. no matter what.
'cause i know that it's delicate (delicate)
under similar circumstances, luke watched you quickly dismiss his offer of accompanying you to the nurse and walk off to join the ares kids. you looked back once, probably to see if he was watching you or not and he easily got caught, his eyes lingering. once being noticed, the ares kids started laughing but so did you.
is it cool that i said all that? (isn’t it?)
even though they were clearly laughing at him, for once he didn’t mind it. he couldn’t even see the other kids as you were the only one in view. your hair swaying in the wind as your head moved back and forth. your laugh was sweet, putting a smile on his face as it continued.
is it chill that you're in my head? (isn’t it, isn't it?)
afterwards, he found his eyes attracted to you. if you were at the arts and crafts table or in the archery range, he wasn’t focused on the task at hand or his campers asking a million questions.
he would use his head counselor advantages to sneak glances at you across the field from time to time. pretending to look for a ‘missing’ camper or informing his friends that he thought there was a rare bird sighting, his gaze fixated on you.
'cause i know that it's delicate (isn't it delicate?)
your eyes twinkled in the faded moonlight, water drops laying on your eyelashes. luke’s damp hair aided his curls, his fresh scent seeping through the rain. he reached for your waist as you went for his shoulder, closing the gap between you two.
shutting your eyes, you went for it.
your whispered, unsteady breath indicated your nervousness but it was now or never. luke’s arms curled around your waist, pulling you in completely until your lips met. your hands unconsciously wrapped around his neck, embracing the kiss.
(yeah, i want you)
if you both weren’t holding onto each other, your knees may have buckled right then and there. luke’s chest was pounding, almost loud enough to hear but was too invested in how the other tasted. his lips were soft, a delicate touch that matched his behavior. even with luke’s certainly intimidating figure, he was always sweet and made sure to show his caring abilities towards campers. this was the first time that you felt it firsthand.
is it cool that I said all that? (isn’t it?)
he could tell you were hesitant at first, suddenly pulling slightly away in the beginning but becoming familiar with the feeling. a fire was lit in the pit of your stomach, signaling you to continue. luke could feel it too, your body reaching for his.
now breathless, both of you pulled back, still your hands remaining where they were. his eyes were wide as if you had opened a new world to him. you couldn’t help it but swallow, waiting for him to break the silence.
is it too soon to do this yet? (isn’t it, isn't it?)
“i like you. a lot.”
a little startled, you were left speechless but after observing his worried expression, you had to let him know you felt the same.
“i do too—like you a lot. if you couldn’t tell.” you joked and smiled at him.
'cause i know that it's delicate
that was when he realized he needed this girl. he couldn’t bear to see her smile or laugh with someone else. he wouldn’t let it happen, because his heart was yearning for her. and her only.
a similar grin crept up his face, making you understand why you wanted him so much. his alluring smile had gotten you again, whisking you away from your deepened emotions and warming your heart.
isn’t it delicate?
there was only one possible question you could ask now:
“can i kiss you again?”
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x you#lc#pjo series#pjo tv show#pjo x reader#percy jackson#percy pjo
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uhhhh please tangerine lemon and handler/agent!Reader playing scrabble or monopoly to relax but it's so incredibly not relaxing
this sound so damn fun! enjoy! for fem!reader
~ * ~
"You're a fuckin' cheater," Tangerine hisses as he sulks on the floor. He had completely given up on being a civilized person once the game had become heated. His hair is messy from the constant re-arranging and he keeps loosening his tie like it's suffocating him.
Somehow, It tends to always become heated when playing monopoly with the Twins, so you aren't surprised by Tangerine's manic state. Lemon rolls the dice, ignoring his brother as he delicately moves his thimble.
He's winning.
"Next fuckin' time, I'm the fuckin' bank. I can't trust you for shit," Tangerine piped up again, groaning in frustration as Lemon passes his properties, safely landing on the starting square.
"Paying up, double this time," Lemon smirks as he reaches into the bank and taps his index on the starting square.
"Oi! No! Since when is it double if you land on it?!" Tangerine argues, grabbing the bank and sliding it towards him on his side. Lemon yanks it back, his eyes dark as he sends Tangerine a glare.
"Since forever," you add quietly, organizing your property cards. Tangerine sends you a glare.
"Whose side are you on, love?"
You shrug and smile, still very sleepy. "The winning side so this can be over with and I can finally sleep," you reason with a yawn. You're completely losing the game but it doesn't matter. All you wanted was a relaxing evening.
You should have never let Lemon suggest monopoly.
Tangerine grumbles something under his breath, seeing how sleepy you've become. He does feel bad since the mission has been stressful, mostly because of him, and now he's stressing you out again.
"C'mere," he mumbles as he leans against the sofa, opening one arm so you can move closer.
You happily shift over and sink your nose into Tangerine's chest as your eyes flutter shut. His hand finds your head, massaging a gentle circle with his hand as you hum, feeling yourself drift into sleep. The game has completely slipped your mind.
"Y/n, it's your turn," Lemon hands you to dice.
Tangerine takes them instead. "She's with me now."
"That's not how that works," Lemon begins.
"One more word from you and I'll shove these monopoly bills so far up your ass you'll be coughing up fake money for days," Tangerine quips, his voice eerily calm.
You wince at his vulgarity, but you're too exhausted to speak up, as you tighten your grip around his sleeve and watch through the slit between your eyelashes as Lemon scrunches up his nose and hits his brother's shin from underneath the coffee table.
"Bastard," Tangerine hissed and clutches his leg.
"Fuckin' language!" Lemon scolds, eyebrows scrunched.
Tangerine kicks him right back, hitting the small table with his knee and scattering some monopoly money onto the carpet. His movement causes you to hum and he freezes, looking at your sleepy state.
"You fu—"
"Shut up," Tangerine whispers harshly, snapping his head towards Lemon as he rests his hand on your head again. Your breathing has slowed and your eyes are fully shut. "She's asleep."
Lemon calms down, slowly picking up the bills as he sends his brother a knowing look. Tangerine is stroking your hair, the game completely abandoned as he focuses on you and making sure no one disturbs your slumber.
"Fuckin' whipped as shit," Lemon mutters, cleaning up the game as he suppresses a smirk. "I win, ya twat," he taunts but Tangerine isn't even listening.
His gaze is locked onto you, watching your chest rise and fall. You look so peaceful and his stomach flips. He knows. He knows instantly that Lemon isn't the one who won.
No. Because how could Lemon have won when you're the only prize that truly matters? And you're not Lemon's girl, you're his girl.
He's fuckin' won.
#tangerine 🍊#tangerine blurb#tangerine fic#tangerine x fem!reader#tangerine x reader#tangerine bullet train#tangerine bullet train x fem!reader#tangerine fanfiction#bullet train lemon#lemon bullet train#lemon and tangerine#tangerine#tangerine x you#tangerine x y/n#tangerine fluff#tangerine imagines#tangerine imagine#aaron taylor johnson#aaron taylor johnson fic#aaron taylor johnson fanfiction#bullet train#tangerine bullet train x reader#bullet train tangerine#bullet train movie#bullet train fanfic#bullet train fanfiction
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Part of my Valentine's Day Collab!
A/N: My second installment!!! I wrote this one in one sitting, hopefully, y'all like it, please give me feedback because I love to read it <333
Pairing: FWB!Hyunin x Reader
WC: 2.5k
Warnings: Unprotected sex (obvi, it's me, Ju...), sex dice, foot job (m! receiving), fingering, cumming inside, fluffy sex but also not??!
Hyunjin, your best friend from high school, the man you had been sleeping with for the last 5 months because neither of you could find anyone to work around your schedules to sleep with, the person who you were getting drunk off of the expensive wine he was gifted, was begging you to roll a sex dice.
It all started with the two of you deciding to spend Valentine’s Day together, instead of falling into cheap marketing tricks of spending upwards of hundreds of dollars on your significant others, you decided to spend it with your fuck buddy.
You had come to his apartment at around 7 at night, holding a box of chocolates that your co-worker had given you as well as takeout food for the two of you.
The two of you sat down, watching a random show while munching on the Chinese food you had brought.
“They definitely fucked after the episode was shot” Hyunjin giggled, taking a bite of the egg roll that was in your hand causing you to let out a quick “hey!”
“I believe it” you replied back, taking note of their on-screen chemistry. “Their chemistry is just a bit too good”
“Kind of like ours?” he giggled, stealing another piece of your food even though he had his own on the plate in front of him.
“I aspire to be as delusional as you” you giggled, stealing a bite of his noodles as a way to get back at him. “Hey! Stop stealing my food!” he shouted, wrapping his arms around his plate to try and hide it from you.
“So when you do it, it’s okay, but when I do it hell freezes over? That’s not very kind of you Mr.World Renound Model”
“Exactly!” he grinned, kissing your lips before going back to the show in front of the two of you.
Your brain short-circuited for a second, he had just kissed you, on the lips, when the two of you weren’t having sex. This is the first time he’s ever done that, maybe it was on accident you thought to yourself, trying to distract yourself, you quickly asked him if he had anything to drink.
Maybe that’s what you had to do, loosen up, maybe you were just being a bit too up-tight because it was Valentine’s Day and you had vowed to never do couple-shit, but here you were with Hyunjin, but the two of you were just friends with benefits, right?
That’s what you kept telling yourself as you watched him open the bottle of wine for the two of you. You watched as his muscles flexed, his body ridden in only a black wife beater and grey sweatpants, the outline of his dick could be easily seen.
You could feel yourself getting wet at the sight of him, no wonder he was so famous, he’s fucking beautiful.
“I don’t have glasses anymore” he groaned taking out two mugs from his cabinet. One was littered with cats and the other with Minho’s face.
You looked at the mugs gobsmacked as it took you a second to process them, and as soon as you did, you busted out laughing. “Holy shit, are these the only things you have?” you giggled, watching him pour the contents of the bottle into the mugs.
“Hey, they were a gift from the cat lover himself” he replied, an offended look on his face.
“I’m just kidding, this will do just fine” you grinned, taking the cup with Minho’s face from him only to be stopped. “I don’t want you drinking out of this one” he quickly stated, handing it back to him only to grab the one with Soonie, Doongie, and Dori.
Little did you know the reason was because Hyunjin felt possessive over you, he didn’t want you drinking out a cup with another man’s face, an attractive one at that.
He watched as you took a sip of the drink in your hands, the way the red liquor stained your lips, the slight blush on your cheeks as the two of you drank out of your designated cups. He could feel his cock slowly stir in his pants, the sight of you was enough to get him hard, but it wasn’t just that.
He wanted to kiss you for hours, go on dates, and cuddle with you, but he was too scared. Too scared to ask, too scared that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings. He sighed as you ate one of the chocolates you brought, watching the way you licked the caramel sauce off your fingers, grinning at the sight of your childish ways.
The two of you reminisced as you drank backs pressed against his couch, each sip of the fruity smooth liquid causing more and more of your secrets to slip, your laughs overlapping one another. It was peaceful, the sound of his laughter sounded like home, and for him vice versa.
As more secrets spilled from both of your lips, he stated something that caught your attention. “Hannie actually gifted me sex die for Christmas as a joke” he chuckled, reminiscing on how he glared at him as he saw what was in the velvet box.
“I thought they were the earrings I really wanted, but nope sex die. He did actually give me the earrings too, so not all was lost” he giggled, pouring more wine into his mug.
“Want to try them out?” you shrugged watching as he almost gagged on his drink.
“You really want to?” he stuttered, wiping the bit of wine that dribbled out of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I mean, why not? We can put that gag gift to use!” you grinned, crawling over to him, and straddling his lap. “Come on Jinnie, do you not want to?”
You looked up at him with the doe eyes he was a sucker for. He couldn’t say no to you, especially when you had asked ever so kindly.
He picked you up, your legs wrapped around his hips arms around his neck as he walked you to his room, gently laying you on his bed as he rummaged through his desk for the die.
You were on your back, hair splayed around you as you watched him, his eyebrows becoming unknit as he finally found them in the back of a drawer.
“Here” he giggled, giving you the die to roll. “Let’s see” you whispered, looking at what it landed on.
Right there, clear as day, the body part had landed on foot, the act was job. “Guess I’m giving you a foot job!” you giggled, watching his face go from one of worry to one of perplexity.
“A what!” he shouted a bit too loud, causing you to laugh. “Come on, don’t tell me you are scared. Plus, aren’t you the one who wanted to and I quote “eat my feet”?”
“I was, but this might be uncomfortable for you” he whined, not wanting you to do something you weren’t one hundred percent sure about.
“I’m not uncomfortable, plus I want to try it. If I don’t like it, or you don’t we don’t have to do it again” you explained to him, getting up on your knees to be face to face with him, your lips kissing his in reassurance.
“I mean if you aren’t opposed to it–”
“I knew it, Seungmin owes me 100 bucks”
“You bet on me having a foot fetish?” he stuttered out.
“Yes, now lay back” you stated, dragging him onto his bed, his back against the headboard as your foot brushed against his cock. He let out a groan at the contact, his dick already hard as soon as you brought up the die.
You slowly rubbed your foot against his sweatpants, watching the way his head was thrown back, slight moans leaving his lips as he pulled down his joggers. His already erect cock slapping against his stomach.
You slowly brushed your pedicured foot along the underside of his cock, watching the way he bit his lip as your toes ran along his tip. “Fuck baby, just like that” he groaned, a hand slapping over his mouth as your toes curled along his length.
Each pump of your foot around his cock made him closer and closer. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum” he whined. You slowly got up from your position across from him, straddling him as you kissed his lips.
His lips formed a pout as you pulled away, your hands gravitating towards his head, brushing his hair behind his ear. “Has anyone told you how pretty you are” he whispered out loud, taking in the rise and fall of your chest.
He slowly pulled your shirt off your body, groaning at the sight of your tits, a black lacy bra adorning your breasts. “Fuck, these are so beautiful too” he whispered against your collarbones, kissing and biting them as he slowly traveled to your breasts.
He reached behind your back, unclipping your bra only to hear your breath catch in the air as he slowly pinched one of your nipples, sucking on the other one.
“Jinnie” you whined, your hand running through his hair once again as he continued to abuse your chest.
“Such a whiney baby for me, I love it” he groaned as he left marks all over your chest, cupping your breasts.
“Need you” you whined feeling your pussy drip at every passing moment that he wasn’t inside of you.
“My baby needs me?” he chuckled, kissing your lips before slowly pulling down your own sweats, and throwing them somewhere in your room, along with your underwear.
Before you could even do anything, he flipped you over, your body underneath him as he took sight of you. Your chest is littered with hickies, and your lips plump from kissing him over and over again.
You were heaving as your hair surrounded your face. You were art and he wanted to stare at you forever. He took sight of your leaking pussy, his fingers trailing across it, catching the juices.
“You are so wet for me sweetheart, can’t believe you were trying to help me without taking care of yourself, such a selfless little girl” he whispered before slowly pushing his fingers into your cunt, stretching you out on his long fingers.
“Just for you Jinnie, want to be such a good girl for you” you whimpered, your walls clenching around his fingers.
“Yeah, you are a good girl for me, such a good girl, the best” he chuckled, kissing your lips as his fingers continued to abuse your cunt. He wanted to find that spot inside of you that made you go crazy.
“You want to cum baby? Want to cum for me?”
“Want to cum on your cock” you whined as you felt your high get closer as he slowly brought one of his fingers down to your clit.
“My poor baby wants me to cum inside her, is that what’s it?”
“Yes, want your cum Jinnie, please want it deep inside of me”
“Who am I to deny such a sweet girl?”
He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, eyes blown out at the sight of you whining at the loss of contact. He slowly ran the tip of his cock along your folds, watching as your poor little hole clenched around nothing but the air.
He gently slapped the tip against your clit, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips before dragging it down and slowly pressing his cock into your cunt, watching you as your eyes rolled behind your head as he sheathed the entirety of his cock into your tight little cunt.
“Take my big cock” he groaned, slowly thrusting inside of you, your back arching slightly off the bed as he thrusts into you harder, lifting your hips up so he could hit the spot he had with his fingers minutes prior.
“Is it good baby?”
“So good, such a good cock, only cock I want” you whimpered as his thrusts began to get faster, a finger trailing down to your clit giving you the extra stimulation you needed.
“There we go baby, come on, cum on my cock. You can do it, cum on Jinnie’s cock” he groaned into your ear, feeling the way your cunt was wrapped around him, sucking his cock in as he fucked you.
“Ah– too deep” you whined, you could feel him hit your cervix, the tip of his cock thrusting against it, but he didn’t stop.
“There we go baby, good girls cum on my cock” he groaned, he could tell that your high was nearby the noises that escaped your lips, and the way your thighs were wrapped around his torso.
It only took one more particularly deep thrust for your cunt to spasm around his cock, sucking him in deeper.
“So good!” you screamed, your head lolling to the side as he continued to pound into as he chased his own high.
“Fuck, gonna cum into this tight little pussy” he whined into your neck, his thrusts getting more sporadic as he came deep inside of you, your walls drinking up every ounce of his cum.
He fell on his back as you wrapped your arms around him, his cock softening inside of you.
He looked at you, brushing the hair off your face.
“I should get going” you whispered to no one but yourself. Before you could even get up, he stopped you. “Don’t please” he whined, his hand wrapped around your wrists.
“Please baby, I want to spend every Valentine’s Day with you. I want to take you on dates, I want to make you breakfast in bed. I want to do every sappy thing we said we hated about couples with you. Please, let me do this for you, with you” he pleaded, kissing your cheeks and then your lips.
He pulled away, waiting for your response, his eyes pleading for you to say yes.
“As long as you don’t poison me with your terrible cooking, I would love to go out with you” you giggled, kissing his lips.
“This isn’t a dream is it?” he whispered out loud, thinking to himself.
“It isn’t” you giggled, cuddling him closer to your body, your head laying against his chest. Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t as bad as you thought.
#Valentine's day collab#ju <3 writes#ju's <3 moots!#stray kids#skz smut#skz#straykids x reader#skz x reader#straykids smut#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#skz hyunjin#hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin
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Polaroids
just fluff - maybe this will distract u guys from the ending of last chapter hehehe
You leaned back into the worn-out car seat, the low hum of the engine mingling with the crackle of the old radio. The old country music drifted over the airwaves, soft and faint, nearly swallowed by static. The radio itself was a relic, knobs worn and dials stubborn, the plastic casing chipped and yellowed with age. Sometimes it cut out completely, leaving only a soft crackling, but today it clung to the melody, filling the cab with the warmth of old tunes and distant memories.
Sunlight filtered through the cracked window, spilling across your face and hands in fractured beams. Outside, the landscape stretched on, an endless expanse of dust and decay, each mile marked by the skeletons of a world long gone—a place suspended in ruin, holding its breath.
Joel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, low and steady. “Not much longer now. We’ll get what we need and move on.”
You met his words with a nod, too tired to reply. You’d been traveling for days now, driven by the promise of Jackson and the slim hope of civilization. Supplies were running low, as always; every stop felt like a roll of the dice, hoping to find something, anything, left behind.
It had only been a few months since he’d found you, though time had blurred into a haze, each day bleeding into the next. Exhaustion hung between you both, heavy and constant, like a second skin you couldn’t shake, worn thin from days on the road and nights too quiet to let you sleep.
Joel had saved you when you’d been cornered, trapped in an old, crumbling building with nowhere to go. You’d been running from a small group of infected, adrenaline pumping as you turned down a dark hallway only to find it a dead end. Your options had narrowed to one: wait for them to close in or make your last stand. Just when it seemed there’d be no way out, Joel appeared—silent and swift, moving with a brutal efficiency that left you stunned. In a matter of seconds, he’d cleared the path, his hand gripping yours as he pulled you to safety, his strength as grounding as his presence.
Since then, you’d stayed by his side, even though he’d made it clear he didn’t want company. He worked alone, he’d insisted, in that blunt, no-nonsense way of his. But you hadn’t given him much choice, and over time, it seemed he’d stopped minding. Now, you were the thorn in his side—a place you gladly occupied. With Joel, you felt a kind of safety you hadn’t known in ages. He’d pulled you out of more tight spots than you could count, watching your back like an instinct.
And though his gruff persona suggested otherwise, you liked to think you offered him something in return, even if it was only the company he didn’t know he needed. Maybe, just maybe, he’d gotten used to the rhythm you’d found together, the unspoken understanding that had grown between you with each mile.
The truck rolled to a stop, the engine dying into silence. You reached for the door, and as always, Joel shot you a quick, expectant look. You knew the routine by now—he wanted you to lead.
He’d insisted on it from the start, claiming it was safer, though you’d never been entirely convinced. A few times, you’d tried to switch places, hanging back to keep an eye on his back. But each time, he’d glanced over his shoulder every few seconds, his unease written in quick, silent looks that said, Get up here.
Eventually, you’d stopped fighting it, falling into the rhythm he’d set. It was easier than watching him practically break his neck to check on you every few steps.
There was something almost sweet about it, a kind of silent protectiveness you’d caught yourself thinking about more than once. But you’d always shaken it off just as quickly—this was about survival, after all.
Nothing more.
As you stepped out first, the wind stirred a broken sign on an old gas station up ahead, its faded letters barely readable. Moving quietly, you swept your gaze over the cracked concrete, dark windows, and twisted metal—every shadow a potential hiding place. Raiders, infected—it didn’t matter. You’d learned to stay vigilant, to read your surroundings like second nature.
The gas station loomed closer, dark and silent, and the air felt thick, weighted. You tightened your grip on your knife, every nerve alert. And even now, without turning, you could feel Joel’s gaze on you, fixed and ready, trusting you to lead but always prepared to step in if needed.
You eased open the door, and the little shop bell above jingled sharply, shattering the silence. You winced, instinctively glancing back at Joel, who fixed you with one of those stern looks that seemed to say everything without a single word. You mouthed, What? as if you had any say in the bell hanging there. He just shook his head, giving a quick gesture for you to keep moving.
The gas station was a relic from another world, frozen in time. The air hung thick with dust and stale, long-forgotten scents. Every shelf wore a layer of grime, and faded signs advertised snacks and drinks that hadn’t been stocked in years. You and Joel swept through the space in silence, checking for any lurking danger before easing up slightly, letting yourselves relax just enough to take in the scene.
You moved slowly, scanning each shelf with eyes trained to spot anything useful. Most of it had been picked clean long ago—torn-open packaging and discarded wrappers marking the hurried visits of those who’d come before you. Still, you continued your search, hoping some overlooked scrap might still be hiding among the debris.
You found yourself wandering into the magazine aisle, eyes catching on a rack filled with faded covers, each magazine a window to a lost world. The glossy pages once held glimpses of celebrity gossip, fashion, sports, news—details from lives people used to care about. It was strange to think of a time when you could pick up a magazine, sink into a chair, and read, unbothered by the weight of survival.
Shaking the thoughts away, you made your way toward the back room, pushing open the door. Inside, it was chaos. Torn sleeping bags, empty food cans, and scattered belongings littered the floor. It was clear that people had stayed here, leaving pieces of their lives behind in a hurry. You stepped over the debris, wondering about them—the strangers who had once huddled in this cramped room, just as desperate as you. Each item felt like a clue, a fragment of someone else’s survival, each as temporary as the lives that had passed through here.
You sifted through the mess, nudging aside tattered blankets and empty cans, until something caught your eye. Your breath hitched. No way.
Nestled under a pile of discarded clothes was an old Polaroid camera, scratched and battered, but unmistakable. You picked it up, heart thumping as you opened the film compartment—still a few shots left.
A smile tugged at your lips as your thumb traced the camera’s worn edges, the feel of it strangely comforting. You used to have one of these—your walls once covered with Polaroids of friends, family, frozen moments from a world that felt like a distant dream.
The thought of taking a picture, capturing even one still moment in this endless chaos, felt like a luxury you couldn’t resist. Carefully, you slipped the camera into your bag, casting a quick glance over your shoulder. Joel’s rules on “essentials only” echoed in your mind; you could almost hear that familiar, gruff tone reminding you of what mattered. But this felt worth the risk.
“Find anything?” Joel’s voice cut through the quiet, jolting you as you straightened up. You turned, giving a casual shake of your head. “No,” you murmured, but the way his gaze lingered told you he wasn’t entirely convinced. He’d grown attuned to your every tell over the past few months, as if he could read the slightest shift in your expression. He knew when you were lying, just like he’d picked up on the way you got a bit snappy when you were hungry or the way you got quiet and withdrawn when you were tired.
You could see his eyes narrow slightly, that small tic he had when he sensed something was off. He didn’t push, though, just let out a sigh and gave a slight nod, the silent acknowledgment that he knew you were keeping something back, even if he wasn’t going to press you on it.
“Alright, let’s go,” he said, his tone steady as he turned to lead the way back. You followed him out of the gas station, stepping carefully over broken glass and crumbling concrete, the weight of the camera tucked away in your bag a secret thrill you couldn’t quite shake.
A few days later you and Joel had stopped by an old, abandoned farmhouse. The building stood crooked and half-collapsed, but it provided some shelter and, thankfully, a well you’d managed to draw fresh water from. As the sun began to dip low in the sky, casting everything in a golden wash, you found Joel outside, seated on a weathered tree stump, quietly cleaning his rifle.
He looked up as you approached, his face softened by the fading light. You felt that familiar pull, the itch to capture this version of him—the one without his guard so firmly up, the rare glimpse of the man beneath the gruff exterior. Without overthinking it, you brought the Polaroid up, snapping the photo with a quick click and a whirl.
The sound broke through the quiet, and Joel looked up sharply, his brow furrowing. “What the hell are you doing?” His voice was a mix of surprise and irritation, but you only grinned, holding the photo as it developed.
“Just… keeping a memory,” you replied, lifting it slightly to see the faint outline of his figure slowly come to life on the film. The fading light, the rugged set of his face, the rifle in his hands—it was a glimpse of this strange, fractured world you’d both managed to carve out for yourselves.
Joel shook his head, letting out a deep sigh as he returned his focus to his rifle, muttering, “Where’d you get that thing?” You tensed, expecting a lecture, but he didn’t sound as mad as you’d thought he’d be. Instead, he glanced up, one eyebrow raised in faint amusement. “Wasting film on me, huh? Thought I told you to stick to the essentials.”
His tone was more resigned than scolding, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of softness behind that familiar gruffness.
“This is essential,” you shot back, tucking the photo carefully into your bag. He huffed but didn’t push it, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he refocused on his task. And as the last rays of sunlight slipped below the horizon, you felt the weight of that small photo, the tiny moment frozen forever in your pocket.
A few days later, you stopped by the edge of a forest, setting up a small camp as the sky turned dusky and violet. Joel had wandered off to gather more kindling, and you settled in by the fire, lost in thought as you stared at the flickering flames, letting the rare quietness sink into your bones.
Unbeknownst to you, Joel had returned, lingering a few paces away. He paused, watching as you sat by the fire, its glow casting soft shadows over your face and deepening the worry etched in your brow. There was something about the way you looked, as if you were carrying the weight of the world in silence—a moment he suddenly found himself wanting to keep, just like you had done with him.
Moving quietly, he crouched down, rifling through your bag with a muffled groan as he pulled out the Polaroid camera. He raised it, aimed, and snapped a photo before you even noticed he was there. The click was softened by the crackle of the fire, and as the image slid out, he quickly tucked it into his pocket, a quiet secret meant only for him.
He found himself drawn to the Polaroid more often than he’d like to admit. Most nights, after you’d fallen asleep, he’d sit alone by the dim light of the fire, turning the photo over in his hands. His thumb would trace the worn edges, lingering on the image, on the softness in your expression that he rarely saw during the daylight hours. There was something about it—a quiet reminder of who you were beneath the survival instincts and guarded walls, something gentle that you rarely let anyone else glimpse.
He couldn’t say why he held onto it so tightly, why he’d tucked it away like a small, fragile piece of something he didn’t quite deserve. But each time he looked at it, he felt an odd sense of peace, a warmth he hadn’t known in years, and a growing hope he barely understood.
It wasn’t until later, one day while packing up camp, that you noticed something unusual in Joel’s belongings—a corner of the Polaroid peeking out from his jacket pocket. Curiosity got the best of you, and you carefully tugged it free, turning it over. The image was slightly faded, but there you were, captured in that rare, quiet moment by the fire. Seeing yourself through Joel’s eyes was strange and unexpectedly tender—a side of you that looked softer, contemplative, even a little vulnerable.
It felt like a secret glimpse into what he saw when he looked at you, something he’d wanted to hold onto. And suddenly, you understood just how much he’d come to care, even if he’d never say it out loud.
When he caught you holding the photo, he stiffened, eyes narrowing as though ready to snatch it back, maybe grumble something about “minding your own business.” Instead, you raised an eyebrow, holding it up for him to see. “What’s this?” you asked, feigning casual curiosity.
He shifted his gaze, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Oh, that?” he muttered, attempting nonchalance. “Just thought… you looked nice. Pretty, I guess.”
The words hung in the air, simple but disarming, unraveling you in a way you hadn’t expected. Pretty. You’d forgotten what it felt like to be seen like that—to be noticed in a way that was more than survival, more than function. In his gruff, awkward way, Joel had reminded you that there was still a part of you worth noticing, worth remembering.
You felt your cheeks warm, a flicker of something both comforting and terrifying sparking in your chest. You held the photo close to your chest, feeling a warmth spread beneath the morning chill. Carefully, you slipped it into your bag alongside the picture you’d taken of him, keeping them together.
Neither of you spoke, but a quiet understanding settled between you, a small truce in a world that rarely left room for moments like these.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller fanfic#ellie tlou#joel miller one shot#joel miller smut#pedro pascal fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal one shot#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller tlou#joel tlou#joel and ellie#pedro pascal fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#ellietlou#joel miller x you#joel the last of us
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Backgammon | [A.H]
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Gn!reader CW: Fluff.
WC: 0.4k
@ssaaaronmontgomery Tagging you cause we talked about this fic earlier 😉
It was a quiet evening at home, the kind where no pain or case could end it, just for a little while. You sat cross-legged on the living room floor, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating the backgammon board between you and Aaron. The warmth of the room made everything feel peaceful, this was your little pocket of calm amidst the usual chaos of Aaron's job.
Aaron was focused, as he always was - his brow slightly furrowed as he studied the board. He made his move with a calculated accuracy, sliding his piece across the triangles. You couldn't help but smile at how seriously he took it, even in moments like these. “Your move,” he said, looking up at you with that soft smile of his you only got to see.
You grabbed the dice, shaking them in your hands dramatically just to see him roll his eyes, but you caught the hint of amusement in his expression as you whispered a wish to the dice of what number you wanted them to land on.
“You always do that,” he said, a chuckle in his voice. “Well, I like to build suspense.” You grinned, tossing the dice onto the board. They clattered across the surface, landing on a six and a four. You moved your pieces, biting your lip as you carefully plotted your next move. Aaron was watching you with patience, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He loved these little moments of competition between the two of you, even if it was something as simple as a quick game of Backgammon whenever your lives permitted you the chance. It gave him a chance to ground himself. “You’re going down, Hotchner,” you teased, making your final move with a flourish. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting as he challenged you. “Oh, really? We’ll see about that.” As the game went on, you found yourself leaning in closer, caught up in the friendly competition. Eventually, he made his final move, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And that’s game.” You groaned, falling back dramatically onto the floor. “I was so close!” Aaron leaned over, hovering above you with a teasing smile. “You’ll get me next time,” he said, his voice was warm and affectionate. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you couldn’t help but smile, even in defeat wrapping your arms around his torso to steady you as you pulled yourself up. “We’ll see,” you muttered, already plotting your revenge for the next game.
#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#aaron hotchner x reader#hotch#hotch thoughts#criminal minds x reader#hotchner#x reader#hotch x you#fluff#fanfiction#aaron hotchner fluff#fluffy hotch#aaron hotch fluff#hotch fluff#hotch x reader#thomas gibson#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds x you#criminal minds fluff#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotch
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Doodle of Whisp in Chapter 3
Notes below
Whisp's first meeting with Kaeya.
I was thinking of making their hair and eye colours grey, but I ended up deciding on green instead. I think it turned out nice - dark green hair and light green eyes.
I tried focusing on posing their body and getting the proportions okay this time. I separated out the drafts to see how much progress I made (bottom right looks very blocky haha).
I'm not that happy with the face on the left, I feel like the head is tilted too high, but couldn't manage to find a nicer way to draw it. I feel like Whisp's mouth should have been covered by their arm like the draft on the bottom middle. The hair turned out okay (it's slightly falling into their face - the hair is in front of their face instead of behind it).
I like how the doodle on the top right turned out though! I decided to have Whisp's hair length roughly chin length.
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Part One Two Three Four Five
What the fuck are you even so happy about? You fucked it up. Jesus you both fucked it up. I didn’t even know something like that could happen.
Eddie smiles at his bedroom ceiling in the dim light, “it was amazing.”
You hugged. Congratulations, you hugged a boy. Eddie can feel Billy roll his eyes.
“You don’t get it.”
There’s nothing to get, because nothing actually happened. Because somehow you both fucked up something as simple as kissing.
Eddie laughs, “you mad Billy? Mad you didn’t get to make out with Harrington?”
Fuck off. I don’t give a shit.
“Uh hu,” Billy is finally quiet. He leaves Eddie alone, lets him grin up at the clean ceiling from his clean new bed, in the room Steve set up for him. Filled with the things Steve went out of his way to save from the old trailer. There’s no beeping here, no hospital smells, he’s warm and comfortable and he’s full of Steve’s casserole and mashed potatoes.
The scent of Steve’s aftershave lingering in his nose, on his cheek.
They were going to kiss, Eddie’s pretty sure they were. They were both so close, heads tilted and eyes wide, but someone twitched wrong, something happened, both of them simultaneously sublimating whatever it was they were doing into a hug instead. Steve’s arms wrapped carefully around Eddie’s middle, conscious of the still healing wounds, his face tucked carefully against Eddie’s neck, ‘never done anything with a guy before.’ The whispered confession from Steve Harrington, the soft lips and sharp stubble against Eddie’s neck.
A confession that means he was going to do something with a guy. Or at least was interested in doing something with a guy, and that guy was, presumably, Eddie.
An incredible turn of events, really.
‘Never done anything with anyone,’ Eddie had whispered back, earning himself a snort of a laugh. God natured though. Happy.
‘We can go slow.’
And Steve had left with a big sappy smile and a dorky little finger tip wave and a promise they would hang out tomorrow.
Eddie sighs. Then grabs a pillow so he can scream into it. And then he’s kind of just grinning, laughing a little, he’s just so fucking happy.
Jesus christ, you fuck ups are actually made for each other.
“I hope so.”
What is this we’re doing now.
Eddie ignores him, sets up his DM shield, his books, his dice. Unpacks his pencils, his notes. Eddie always plays it fast and loose, he’s got a vague plan sure. As long as he knows the plan and the motivations of the bad guys, everything else falls into place pretty easily.
So this is the nerd thing you’ve been planning for.
He wants this one to be good; first game with Will the Wise present, after all. Steve’s in the kitchen, left Eddie to set up the finishing touches. They’re going to hang out and watch a movie once all the kids have gone, and Eddie’s pretty sure he couldn’t have planned a more perfect day if he tried. Steve’s even making them snacks. He’s done something to the dining room table to make it even bigger, unfolding some extra hidden bit of wood to make it longer; wild rich people shit.
The bell tolls; the kids are at the door, and Eddie can’t suppress his joy at having all the kids here together, everyone alive and well. Well, except for Max, which is shitty, but all the kids are going to go and visit her after this, so that’ll be nice for her.
He wants to prance to the front door, leap and skip and play he’s so buzzing with excitement for this, but one single hop is enough for his body to remind him, pretty sharply, that he is absolutely not ready for that sort of nonsense just yet, so he walks instead.
Jesus christ, this kid is a straight up savage.
Lady Applejack stares Eddie down over his DM shield.
Could have done with her against the Mindflayer.
“I’m going to attack.”
Of course she is.
Eddie claps joyously, “everyone roll for initiative.”
Eddie’s standing now, can’t possibly just sit with all this going on, “and that is a hit, his mighty war hammer crashing into your armor with a resounding smack, for one D10 of damage…”
“Dustin,” Mike hisses, “how much health do you even have?”
Dustin shakes his head, worried, but doesn’t answer. Lucas is hanging onto Dustin's shoulder, looking down at Dustin’s character sheet. Eddie’s dice clatters on the table behind the DM shield, Lucas signals ‘five’ to will with his fingers.
The whole table collectively holds it’s breath as Eddie watches his die roll and settle on a nine. “It’s a glancing blow! Your armor must absorb some of the hit as you take four points of damage!”
Eddie, no, don’t lie. Kill the little shit-you're too soft on them.
Will immediately starts on his turn, so excited, “I cast Cure Light Wounds!”
Of course he does.
Why is this taking them so long?
The most simplistic puzzles are the best.
Literally all the have to do is match the colors. I can’t believe how dumb they are.
Eddie does his best to hold in the snort. Doesn’t quite succeed and earns a scathing look from Erica. Yep. They are over thinking it a little.
This is so frustrating, how can you even sit through this.
Watching them struggle is the fun. They’ll get it in a minute.
We’re going to grow old and die here.
They sit and listen to the kids argue a little longer, coming up with wilder and wilder theories on how to solve what is the simplest color match game Eddie could come up with.
Baldie is staring at us.
Don’t call her that, Eddie’s reply is reflexive, but Billy is right. El is watching them.
Eddie isn’t surprised when she lingers. Deliberately makes it so that she’s the last standing on the porch. The boys shot off on their bikes, but El, Mike and the ferocious Lady Applejack are hitching a ride with Nancy.
She waves to him through the wind shield, then turns, talking to Mike.
“Do you talk to him?”
No preamble. Just those big fucking eyes looking up at Eddie. Knowing. A little kid should not look like that.
“Yeah, all the time.” In his mind, Billy is still and quiet. Watching warily.
“Is he alright?”
“He’s still a massive dick, so, I guess so, yeah.”
“Does Max know?”
She cuts right to the heart of it, this kid, “she’s the only one who knows.”
She nods, “for now,” and then leaves, running to get in the car without a care in the world.
She’s terrifying.
I know, fucking great isn’t it?
Part seven
#eddie munson#steve harrington#billy hargrove#stranger things#steddie#pre getting together#pre steddie#pre metal sandwich#metal sandwich#metalsandwich#ficlet#harringrove#harringroveson#mungrove#ghost of billy hargrove#getting together
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Relic - Pt. 3 "Dying of the Light"
PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC
SUMMARY: ✧༺༻ Dreams are messages from the deep ༺༻✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.
TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder
WORD COUNT: 3.4k
A/N: I must warn you of the "implied/referenced (child) abuse" tag very insistently for this chapter 🥺
Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️| Relic Masterlist
Divider by @saradika-graphics
Tag list? Do let me know if u want me to tag u 👉👈
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Day 48
"Since when do you prefer golden glow globes?"
"What?" Feyd snaps sharply, fingernails leaving crescent shapes in the apple he's been reluctantly eating, scarfing it down despite his lack of appetite.
"The servants have reported to me that you prefer the glow globes in your quarters golden now."
A shiver rolls down Feyd-Rautha's spine, cold like fear, wet like the sweat that comes with fear. The sanctity of his quarters hasn't been defiled in a few years, but even though his uncle's older, frailer body may not come and visit him there in the flesh anymore, his eyes watch him always, and he has many eyes, too many to count.
"And since when do you prefer your livers sliced instead of diced? Is a man not allowed to have moods?" Feyd takes a bite of the apple that tastes like ash and bile.
"A man, yes…"
"You accuse me of not being a man?"
"Well, physically you are, I can't deny that." Feyd's jaws are tense as a coiled spring, his guts shriveled, his sweat cold against his armpits. "But mentally, dear nephew… You still remind me so much of the boy you were."
Feyd stands abruptly and throws the rest of his apple on the floor where it splatters into a myriad of soggy pieces. A servant hurries over at once to clean up the na-Baron's mess and Feyd stabs them in the stomach not once but six times. Their crumpled body lands face down in the smashed fruit and Feyd whips his blade, spraying blood across the servant's white plastic robe and the tall polymer pillar that supports the arched ceiling of the royal dining room.
The baron chuckles as his nephew stomps away and Feyd is livid with himself. He shouldn't have let him crawl under his skin, shouldn't have thrown a tantrum like the child he accused him of being, shouldn't have provided his uncle with a fresh meal. At his back, Feyd hears the dead body being hoisted on the table by four pairs of trembling hands, a knife being whetted.
Without delay, Feyd's feet carry him to his chambers. His earthly presence may not be safe there, but this is where the door to a better world awaits him, standing open every night. All he needs to do is step through.
He goes back to the dream where his soul comes to cry.
Night 61
Soft fingertips caress Feyd's chest as they lounge in bed, bathed in the gentle, golden shine of a glowglobe which keeps the achromatic daylight at bay. His woman is in distress today and Feyd sees it as his utmost duty to hold her and soak up every word of hers to fragment it in his head, analyze it and piece it back together to provide solutions to all of her problems.
"I'm always so glad to see you," she mumbles against his clavicle, tickling him with her lips. "You're soft," she adds, sighing.
"Do you like me soft?"
"Oh, yes, very much so." Her lips twitch into a smile against his skin and she exhales a shuddering breath. Feyd's hands calmly dance across her back, creating comfort as easily as the waves wash up on the beach.
"What troubles you?" Asking this with genuine care makes a new flower blossom in Feyd's garden of discovery.
"I know nothing but fear when I'm awake. But I never need to be scared with you."
"And what's so scary when you're awake?" How warm his chest feels, how full his heart.
"The war," she mutters flatly, tracing the dent between his pectorals mechanically.
The great Houses currently aren't at war and Feyd can't remember all the meaningless little wars and feuds on lesser planets. No doubt there are plenty of them, no doubt they are terrible for their populaces. Fascinating, how he's never even considered wars on smaller worlds as events of importance.
He almost asks - Where, how and why? Is she safe? How can he help her? House Harkonnen has all the means to liberate one of the lesser of the thousands of planets of the imperium from a local war. But if he takes that step, she will take the next and there will be no stopping this avalanche. If he asks about her world, she will ask about his. If he intervenes, she will find out his name, his status, all of his tainted colors.
It would destroy everything they have. Their treasured place of peace would break down like a house of cards, so he better not touch it.
Feyd decides that he is glad for the war. It means that his woman looks forward to being with him at night. Selfishly, he hopes her waking hours are as miserable as his, so their shared nights will always be the light of their days.
"And how involved are you in the war?" He carefully prods, holding her body closely against his quicker beating heart, fingertips dipping I to the little spaces between her vertebrae.
"Not as much as others. I have a safe place to sleep at night." Why does she sound so guilty saying that? Feyd battles his own guilt upon realizing that this is the most important information of the night. So much for wanting to solve all of her problems. As long as she is safe, he will not shake the pillars of their peace, just like he won't chop his own leg off.
"That's good, my darling, don't get involved, can you do that for me?" She begins to cry, nodding as she curls up against Feyd's chest, tearful face hidden in his neck as if she's only been waiting for someone's permission to disengage.
Feyd holds her tight, whispering sweet nothings: "It's okay, it's okay… My poor darling." Her tears slip down his neck like fresh rain on Feyd's flowers.
Night 83
Tonight he gasps like a drowning person when he falls into the dream, floundering as he squeezes her body to him with damp hands. Feyd's heart drums like thunder against his ribs. He has finally escaped, yet he hasn't. Sticky imprints of real nightmares still cling to him even in the dream, too fresh, too disgraceful.
"My love? What is wrong?" She flinches upon his tightening grasp on her clothes and sudden frantic breath Feyd exhales. He had been breathing and cuddling her so peacefully only a moment ago.
"I o-only just arrived," he grates out, swallowing down a big lump in his throat, but it comes back up twice as large immediately and he turns his face away, fighting with the last vestiges of his strength and dignity against the humiliating torrent.
"You're hurt," she notes and touches his shoulder so gently that he starts weeping.
"Can I-, ju-ust, hah, just c-cry to-ni-ight?" His eyes burn like acid, his face scrunched up into a painful grimace and he is blinded by the wetness that veils his eyes and slips down his cheeks in hot rivulets. Anyone could stab him in the back in a state like this
"Of course, my beloved, please come here, please, please…"
Feyd-Rautha curls up on her chest, crying like a child until his tears and his saliva have soaked her gown. She cradles his head so softly, touching his scalp and the nape of his neck. His legs curl into a fetal position, surrendering to the choked sobs that shake his chest.
The breathing exercise hadn't helped this afternoon.
"He-, he just-" Feyd tries to convey his thoughts, trying to form a sentence that doesn't make the bile rise in his throat.
"I know, I'm so sorry. Listen to me, Feyd, you deserve none of that, do you hear me? You are so precious, you are so loved."
"By who?" He asks. She's told him she loves him already.
"By me, I love you more than there are stars in the universe."
Feyd's teeth scrape against her chest as he cries with his mouth open, emitting sounds that he's never heard himself make before, not as a grown man. He sounds like a dying animal. She holds him as long as it takes to drain the river of his tears until only the drying salt is left on his cheeks. His throat hurts like he has cut himself open with razor blades and his head radiates a throbbing ache with each exhausted heartbeat.
Throughout it all, while she holds him and coos at him, she cries quietly as well, feeling his suffering like physical pain that throttles her heart. She feels bad for lamenting about the war when Feyd has gone through all of this all his life. It wasn't hard to figure out that he has no one to talk to and his suffering has accumulated, layer after terrible layer around a vulnerable core. She wants nothing more than to free him from this pain, but he had asked her to only let him cry tonight, so she will not offer advice.
Eventually, the room falls silent. Feyd hasn't cried for a few minutes, only breathing against her neck while she tirelessly caresses his smooth scalp. She thinks he might have fallen asleep and is surprised that it actually worked within the dream, but then she feels his lips moving along the column of her throat, peppering it with soft kisses. She doesn't complain about the intimate touch and kisses his head. When she told him he is so loved, she meant it with every cell of hers. Feyd stirs in her arms, raising himself on his forearms.
"Can I fuck you?" Red-rimmed eyes look at her feverishly, lips parted for breath because his nose is stuffy.
She is caught by surprise, momentarily not knowing what to say. "Are you sure you want that tonight?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I'm so sure." Feyd delves for her mouth, capturing it in a kiss, though he quickly has to part for breath. His lips taste of salt and his warm, hectic breath flutters across her skin as he lets out little sounds of desperation.
She kisses him back with a sliver of reluctance, letting her hand slide from the back of his head to his neck and over his muscled shoulders as he leans over her, slotting himself between her legs. Already he unlaces his trousers and bunches up her gown, rubbing circles over her clothed clit in a way that feels rushed. His cock is half hard and brushing against her inner thigh. While her eyes are closed, she feels the frantic rhythm of Feyd's hand, stroking himself.
He isn't usually this impatient.
"Feyd, wait a moment, I'm not wet enough," she objects when he tugs her underwear aside.
"Why?! Why the fuck not?" Hurt raptor eyes snap up, lips pressed into a tight, trembling line. The tension in his jaws adds a bump on each side like extra bones protruding from his skeleton.
"Because you've been crying!"
Feyd viscerally pulls away. He is a pathetic excuse of a man. How dare his eyes cry more at her words? He will never cry again. Never.
"My beloved, don't go," she pleads, wrapping her arms around Feyd's narrow waist from behind. How easily he sinks back into her embrace is just as pathetic, he thinks, trying to stifle his tears with anger, but he can't stop crying while his woman holds him so softly against her chest like he is only half of the size he is. He slumps back down with no energy left, crying dry sobs into her breasts.
Very gently, she turns him on his back, making sure his head is on the pillow before she climbs on top of him, covering every part of him with her warm, soft body. Instinctively, Feyd's arms wrap around her middle, squeezing her close like he would have hugged the stuffed animal he might have had as a young child.
"Can you just touch me to make it go away?" He pleads into the crown of her head.
"Of course." She lifts her face, regards him earnestly, like she isn't at all deterred by the sight of his puffy eyes and lips and his salt-crusted cheeks. "Where do you need me to touch you?"
"Everywhere," he confesses, shuddering at the terrible truth and his head won't stop swaying from left to right.
"Okay," she softly hums and starts by kissing under each eye, letting him know that his tears will never stand between them. She loves him with tears on his cheeks as much as she loves him without. Her lips tickle his lashes as she kisses his half-closed eyelids, the softest, tenderest part of him. Then across his smooth, thick brow bones, over his scalp and down on one side while she caresses the other side with gentle fingers.
Sweetly, she nuzzles his ear with her nose, placing pecks on the shell that make him sigh. From the corner of her eyes, she sees his lips part.
Proceeding downwards very slowly, she draws a trail of kisses down his throat, lingering just under his jaws for several minutes, increasing from light pecks to generous suckles that tint his skin pink. Soft moans chime after the first few love bites and Feyd's fingers twist into the fabric of her gown.
"Would you like your clothes off?" She whispers and licks gently over his Adam's Apple which jumps when he speaks.
"Yes, please."
She begins with his tunic, fingers slipping under the hem and across his smooth, twitching belly, lifting the fabric as he lifts his arms so the shirt can be discarded on the side. Each dip and curve of his muscles receives loving attention, a wet tongue sliding between the subtle mounds of his abdominal muscles, into his navel, between his pectorals while her fingers are splayed across his ribs, feeling the corded muscles flex there when her mouth caresses each hardening nipple.
Humming softly, she nuzzles her cheek against his chest, fingers dancing lightly across his side. Tentatively, her hand dips lower, thumb drawing a line from Feyd's navel to the hem of his trousers. His muscles flex, hips jumping. The tent in the fabric can't be missed, yet she doesn't free him until he sighs: "Everywhere please," and a one hand settles on the top of her head, pushing her down.
While sliding his trousers down, she kisses over his hip bones, and down to his smooth, muscled thighs which fall open, hard length twitching and flopping back down on his tummy.
"Ahh~" Feyd moans.
"Not yet, my love. Soon." She continues her journey, pulling his trousers over his feet as he angles them downwards. Her hand glides over the smooth back of his foot and he is distracted by that, not realizing how she lowers her face to his other foot. Only when her lips brush against him softly, he flinches.
"You don't need to kiss my feet." He sounds so worried all of a sudden.
"But what if I want to?" She peppers kisses around his ankle, up his shin and then back down "You have cute toes for a man."
That makes him chuckle and her heart blossoms with warmth at the sound. A tearful thickness still clings to Feyd's voice, but his laughter sounds genuine and his raspy moans are sweeter than anything when she kisses his feet goodbye and lets her hands and lips journey upwards, following the corded muscles of his milky legs. Again, she stops before his cock, noting how his balls have grown plump and taut against his writhing pelvis.
"You said everywhere," she apologizes and Feyd allows her to lift his right leg slowly, without thinking about anything except how good her lips feel and how nicely his skin prickles in all the places where she's touched him. Tenderly, she kisses the back of his thigh, sliding her nose across the smooth skin, down towards his ass cheek, inwards.
Feyd instinctively grabs her hair to pull her to his leaking cock, but he only ends up holding her in a loose grip as she continues the worship of his milky skin, every plane, every bump.
"You're so pretty everywhere." Her hot breath brushes over his balls as she switches to the other thigh and a heavy blush heats up Feyd's cheeks. He can't help the writhing of his back and hips against the mattress, legs shifting further apart, neck arching so that his Adam's Apple sticks up like the peak of a snowy mountain.
Teeth nibble at the back of his thigh, closing in on the protruding tendon that connects leg to pelvis. Feyd shivers, fingers tightening in her hair, staring down at her bowed head with rapt anticipation. Finally, her tongue delves over that tendon, eliciting a fierce shiver from his body, nerves screaming their gratefulness for being almost touched where he needs it. The side of her tongue just barely slides against his balls and the moan he lets out is guttural, toes flexing against the sheets.
"So, so pretty. The prettiest I've ever seen. I'm so lucky to get to see you like this. Do you have any idea how lucky I am?"
Feyd can only whimper when her lips wrap around his ridiculously hard and flushed cock head, tongue swirling across the slit to taste the salty, heady beads of inky pre cum. She is no longer afraid of the foreign color. Her hand is wrapped around the base, massaging him almost too gently, but even that gentle touch licks at his overly sensitive nerves like white-hot flames.
"Do you want to close your eyes for me and relax?" She whispers, kissing the saliva-wet head of his cock. Feyd hesitates, slightly tensing, and shakes his head. "That's alright, then keep them open and look at me, okay?"
That he does, watching her take the thick head in her mouth, tongue lapping at the sensitive underside. The hand that isn't holding him begins to dance across his inner thigh, making him spread his legs wider. Her hand drops from the base of his shaft to his balls, squeezing them which makes his cock strain and twitch against her teeth. She doesn't release him from her soft, wet mouth, bobbing at a slightly faster pace, fondling his balls.
Feyd's moans increase in pitch and a big, gentle hand with long fingers caresses her head incredibly softly for someone who is used to meeting violence with violence and forcing himself down a partner's throat with no respect for their well-being, who gets off on the sound of choking and gagging.
He cries out when she pulls off his cock, drawing strings of saliva after her which snap and create a web across his shaft as she leans down, tracing the thick veins with the tip of her nose, then with her tongue. Feyd lets out one long, guttural whine when her tongue delves all the way down and she sucks his balls into her mouth, one at a time, hands splayed across the back of his thighs, holding them open. Feyd grunts, heels ruffling the sheets as he pulls his knees closer to his body, hips jerking.
Sweat beads on his forehead and he watches incredulously as she opens her jaws as wide as can be and takes both of his balls into the hot, wet cavity of her mouth, creating pressure and suction. Feyd's core coils with heat, the wave of release approaching at near impossible speed.
"Oh God, oh please, oh fuck~"
She feels the throbbing of his climax with her tongue first and hums around his sac, wrapping her hand around the head of his spit-wet cock, jerking him off until the crescendo of his moans peaks and topples and inky seed splatters all across her hand and his tummy. His hips keep twitching until moans turn into whimpers and his head sinks into the sweat-damp pillow. Only relief occupies Feyd's mind when his muscles go completely slack, save for the pleasant shudder that passes through him when she releases his sac with a wet pop.
Some of the rot has been cleaned by the cathartic touch of her hands.
Feyd meets her gaze, blue eyes drowsy and full of bliss. Meanwhile, she looks up at him with eyes like wet fire. If only there was a way to save her beloved from his waking nightmares.
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - Dylan Thomas
[Tag list: @nostalgichoya, @sebastianswallows]
#feyd#feyd rautha#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd x reader#feyd x you#feyd x oc#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#feyd rautha x oc#feyd smut#feyd rautha smut#feyd fanfiction#feyd rautha fanfiction#dune fanfiction#dune part two#dune part 2#austin butler#feyd imagine#feyd rautha imagine#peggysuave fanfics#peggysuave;relic
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cruel summer - a.leclerc
masterlist
t-swift inspired works list
requested: n
pairings: Arthur leclerc x gasly!fem!reader
warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of alcohol + teasing + mentions of flings/hookups
a/n: yes my tags are under f1 I just don’t know how many people view the f2 works tags. wrote this at 5am a couple weeks ago! feedback is always appreciated xx
《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》
Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes
you’re not looking to fall in love you’re just looking for something fun for the summer. after having dealt with a harsh break up, the last thing you need is a man occupying your mind.
that’s until the annual gasly and leclerc siblings vacation in Italy. Arthur was just facing a fresh new start after a rough breakup as well, and a month in the countryside couldn’t have sounded more appealing. he’s also not looking for anything serious.
that’s until he sees you curled up under the blankets around the bonfire, body leaning against his older brother, Lorenzo. the orangey red flames reflect your beautiful features to him, and all of a sudden any idea of a summer fling has fallen short. he’s now realizing maybe there’s a chance to fall in love again.
you’re sipping on the last of the limoncello when Lorenzo calls it a night for himself. he presses a kiss to your forehead and wraps the rest of your blanket around your body. Charles nods along saying it’s late for him, but you and Arthur could stay longer. and you do.
“you’re not tired?” he asks, watching your tipsy body sway in the chair. your brother, Pierre, takes your glass from you officially cutting you off for the night.
“don’t need to get wasted on the first night.” he shakes his head in disapproval, and it’s his turn to head in for the evening. the three older boys have a big day ahead of them, they planned to head into town and do some racing while the two of you hung back.
“I should probably go to bed too.” you sigh watching the flames dance around the fire pit. you look up to see Arthur’s fixated on the flames too. you’ve noticed the distant lost look in his eyes, you didn’t question his appearance, you’re sure you look the same. it’s a cruel summer so far, and god you’re hoping it turns around.
—
it’s 3am when you find yourself tending to your drunk cravings. you tossed and turned in the bed trying to fight sleep, but the liquor still in your system was craving something salty.
you’re sitting at the dinning room table attempting to make as little noise as possible with the bag of chips in front of you. the house is silent, the only thing that fills the air is the sound of light snores and now you’re loud bag of chips.
it wakes Arthur up— but to your lack of knowledge he’s already awake. he hadn’t been able to sleep, your face in the glowing lights of the fire still dance around in his mind. the words of his ex girlfriend telling him he was “unlovable” linger in too, he tries to fight the words and the pictures, but falls short.
he throws the covers off his body, deciding maybe a movie or a television show would tire him out. he wasn’t expecting to see you awake in the kitchen, crumbs of chips around your lips while you munch on them. god even half awake his heart nearly beats out his chest.
“did I wake you?” you ask, guilt washes over you watching him shake his head as he slips into the chair across from you. you tilt the bag in his direction but he declines.
“I was already awake.” he explains watching you devour the salty treat in front of you. he studies how you waste no time to chew before shoving another one in your mouth. he watches you close your eyes in satisfaction of the salty cravings being met.
“how’s your summer been so far?” you ask deciding to fill the silence between you both, growing a little irritated of listening to the light snores.
“could be better, you?” he asks reaching across the table using his thumb to wipe the excess of chip and salt that linger your lips. you nearly stop breathing when his thumb comes in contact with them, his thumb is soft and gentle against your lips. his skin just brushes your chin, heart beginning to pound like crazy over this act.
“yeah same.” your breath is uneasy as you exhale when he finally pulled away. he chuckles to himself watching your pupils dilate, mouth slightly agape, and eyes lustful. he watches you fix yourself and your tipsy state returns once again.
“happy to be out here, away from the world.” he looks out the window adjacent to the table. stars fill the sky, you couldn’t see stuff like that for days in the city. he loves his summers in the countryside; just drinking, tanning, swimming, and most importantly now you. you and your little bikinis your brother warns you not to wear, you and your tight skirts, you and your beautiful figure. he can’t wait for a whole month of it.
“it’s going to be a fun month.” you sigh relaxing into the chair finally full from all the salt and crunching. he takes the bag of chips from you beginning to munch himself.
“yeah? what do you plan to do?” he asks leaning forward. maybe you could be his summer fun, his one time thing that he’ll maybe regret later on, but he won’t now. not when you’re this stunning and so beyond out of his world.
you shrug, “I don’t know, have some fun.” you smile pushing yourself up from the chair feeling exhaustion finally hit you. “I’m just looking for fun.”
he watches you walk away, you’re almost up the stairs when he adds one more thing. the last thing to say before leaving you to dream of tomorrow, “I know how to have fun, y/n.”
“goodnight, Arthur.”
—
you’re laying against your towel, back facing the burning rays, while the four boys play spike ball. the noise of their laughter and grunts are disturbing of your attempt at peace.
you give in to the sound of the wave crashing against the sand and decide to take a swim. you feel a familiar pair of eyes watch you walk past the four boys. you’re wearing the tiniest of bikini bottoms, and a top that’s a size too small for your chest. arthur noticed, of course he noticed. after yesterdays conversation all he can think about is ruining that stupid “bro code” Pierre made him promise to. he promised to never date or mess with his sister.
except it’s summer time, those rules don’t apply to a fun summer, right? he just wants something to occupy his mind, and you already said you’re not looking for anything beyond fun. he’s the perfect contender for this summer job.
“focus, arthur!” Charles fakes a throw at his brothers head, the younger boy flinches in reaction. he nods along going back to the game, but out of the corner of his eye every time the game stops, he sees your body floating across the cool salty waters.
“I think I’m going to go for a swim.” arthur announces when the three others call it a day on the game. they nod along watching him make his way towards where you are. you’re standing, feet sunk into the sand, allowing the waves to crash against your body, every so often going underneath to hear the muffled sounds of the waves crash against the sand.
when you look over towards the boys you notice they are all hanging around on their towels, and one leclerc is missing. your eyes dart around the beach before feeling someone yank your leg from under the water. it’s him.
“you scared me.” you laugh watching him come up for air, wet hair pressed against his forehead. he takes the palm of his hand brushing the hairs back, chuckling at your scared state, hand over your sunburnt chest.
“that was the point.” he says, noticeably moving his eyes up and down your body. taking in the way your bottoms nearly fell down your hips, and the way your top lifted upwards exposing your under breasts.
“cannot believe Pierre let you leave the house like that.” he licks his lips shaking his head, watching your already red face become a darker shade just by his comment.
“well he doesn’t own me.” you say, his body drifts closer due to the waves, you don’t mind, you allow yourself to be taken by them nearly stumbling into his chest. he’s praying to god your brother isn’t seeing this.
“you’re right, but maybe he should’ve said something because the things you do to me. god,” he exhales, a smirk forming his lips as he shakes the dirty thoughts, “it’s unholy.”
you exhale an uneasy sigh feeling warmth spread across your chest, heart rate picking up. you want this, god you want this with him, “tell me about them.” you run your fingers down his abs, they run over every divot and peak of his body.
“why don’t I show you tonight?” he takes his index finger resting it underneath your chin, thumb stroking the side of your face. you can’t say any words just nodding in agreement.
“can’t wait.”
—
the dress you’re wearing flows with the wind, all five of you moving around the winery watching the sunset. you think he’d behave himself this close around your brother, but he allows his arms to slip around your waist every so often, and hand squeeze your ass in any private moment. he’s tearing your patience, and that dress of yours is testing his.
pierre leaves you with the leclerc brothers to go to buy a bottle of wine for you and your family to take back home. you nurse the last couple of sips in your drink listening in on the three boys conversation. your eyes gravitate towards him, his white linen shirt has two buttons undone exposes his cross necklace, and his sun kissed chest. he knows what he’s doing, just like you knew what you were doing when you slipped on the dress with a low v. you’re both making each other beg.
“I’m going to go see what’s taking him so long.” Charles mutters leaving the three of you alone. Lorenzo makes an excuse you can’t remember because now it’s just you two. and he’s already whispering dirty secrets in your ear.
“we are in public, Arthur.” you giggle feeling his hot breath against your ear, it tingles a sensation throughout your body that trickles down your spine.
“I want to take you in this winery.” he whispers, hands pushing the few hairs that brushed in front of your face with the wind. you want him. god you want him bad, you can feel warmth spreading against your panties.
“my brother is here, you can’t.” you hiss, you want to break gaze from him, check on the status of Pierre and see if he’s coming back. but your eyes stay glued to those beautiful thick pink lips. god, you want him to take you in this winery.
“whatever happened to having fun? you don’t want to meet me in the restroom in say five minutes?” he checks his watch beginning to set a timer, he taps it and turns away. on his way inside he runs into Pierre telling him he’s using the restroom before they all leave, and now you’ve got five minutes to make that same excuse.
you sigh unsure what you’ve got yourself in to, but five minutes pass and you’re now heading to the private restroom. softly knocking on the door praying this is the one he’s in, and to your luck he is.
he opens the door and you slip in before anybody could notice, he presses your body against the wall, hands pulling the material of your dress up your thighs while you’re undoing his belt. this is the fastest you’ve got things done, you don’t have much time knowing the three out there would get suspicious.
“I can’t stand you right now.” he mutters, when he finally rips the wet material that’s against your throbbing pussy. you could whine you’re so needy for him.
“you’re cruel, leclerc. teasing me like that.” you spread your legs for him, his fingers grip your thighs as he enters you. you’re doing everything you can to keep yourself quiet— that includes biting the collar of his white linen shirt practically leaving teeth marks.
his thrusts are quick and short, he doesn’t have much time but he’s still showing you how he feels. his tip nudging your clit, pleasure washing over you. you bite down even harder on his shirt feeling tears well against the brims, you so badly want to scream, you can feel your legs beginning to shake. he’s too good for you, he wants to take his time get every part of your memorized.
“that’s it, come on.” he whispers still edging you on, hands twisted in your hair he watches you relax against him. teeth unclenching his shirt, your body practically exhales on him. your head hits the wall when he pulls out rushing to find toilet paper to clean you up.
“such a good girl.” he mumbles, the sandy paper gently brushes against your inner thighs. he helps you return back to your normal state, combing out any knots in your hair, both of you now leaving the restroom.
“wasn’t that fun?” he asks, you have a few more feet until you’re in front of your brothers and this talk couldn’t go on anymore. you just let out a dry laugh shaking your head.
“yeah if you didn’t have to take me so quickly.” you nudge his shoulder with your elbow. Pierre catches your eye, and he knows somethings different. you weren’t this happy nearly an hour ago when you arrived to the winery, and he’s not stupid when he sees the teeth marks in Arthur’s linen shirt.
“do I need to remind you that my sister is off limits to fuck with?”
“you’re a little too late, because I already did.”
No rules, in breakable heaven
It's a cruel summer
With you
#arthur leclerc#arthur leclerc x reader#arthur leclerc imagine#arthur leclerc smut#arthur leclerc x y/n#arthur leclerc drabble#arthur leclerc fic#arthur leclerc fluff#f2 imagine#f2#f2 x reader#f2 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 driver x you#f1 imagines#f1 fic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#charles leclerc#pierre gasly#f1 smut#f2 smut#formula 2#formula 1
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Poker Face
Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader
Summary: A cocktail waitress in the Gran Tesoro casino takes a liking to Zoro and you can’t stand it. Reader is toxic. Pettiness ensues.
Note: Takes place during Film Gold although it’s just the backdrop. No canon characters apart from Zoro.
Word Count: 4.6k
Warning: Basic toxic behavior, degradation, spitting, hair pulling, devious back shots
Tags: @eelnoise @bby-deerling @kibblz-n-bitz @sunshinescribes @sleepymarimo
You were going to kill him. You were going to throttle him if he didn’t get that busty cocktail waitress’s hands off of him.
All night you’d been trying to convince yourself that the woman was simply doing her job of preying on the weak-willed desires of male patrons in exchange for their lecherous ogling. But Zoro wasn’t just any male patron, and her needling went far beyond a means to an end. She wanted him, and she’d done everything outside of plop herself into his lap to make her point.
Cacophonous hoots and hollers from the other Blackjack tables dulled in your ears as you watched the woman scratch her talons up and down the starched sleeve of his cream suit jacket. He remained infuriatingly obtuse while draining another glass in his typical, uncouth manner. Though he continued to ignore her advances, you still ground your teeth when her blood red, coffin-shaped claws dug into his arm. There was only so much of his obliviousness you could take—after all, he wasn’t the type to allow just anyone to put their hands on him. At this point, it appeared that he was playing some sort of game to fuck with you. For what reason, you couldn’t say.
The urge to ruin her perfectly installed lash extensions with a violent slam to the table spread like venom in your veins as an envious green serpent curled and coiled into a hiss behind your darkened eyes. He was more than aware of the murderous intent licking at your fingertips, yet he refused to spare you any glance or make any move to shove the woman off. Yes, he was most certainly fucking with you.
Another roll of dice bounced softly onto the felt tabletop and the man beside you raised his glass with a jubilant shout. He’d been hopelessly trying to win your affection by purchasing all of your drinks and asking you to blow on the dice as his “good luck charm”. He is quite handsome you thought to yourself as you admired him. A bit on the older side, and much more clean cut than what you were used to, but cute enough all the same.
With wicked ease you ran your fingers down his arm to mirror the wretched tart on the other side of the table. You caught the polite man’s warm smile and tried to picture yourself falling for someone more elegant like him, but unfortunately your heart had already been claimed by the rugged, classless oaf sitting on the other side of the table.
Before you could stop yourself your feet carried you to the other side where the two of them sat—her head resting on his shoulder, and his eyes flitted to you when you stood in front of them.
“Well, isn’t this cozy.”
He’d only been mildly thrown off by the acid in your tone, but she had more sense to cower.
“I’m sorry, is there something that you need?”
You couldn’t decide if you were satisfied with the tremor in her voice, or annoyed that she’d even dared to speak to you.
“This doesn’t really seem like very “professional” behavior.”
“I’m…sorry?”
The woman was an idiot. Anyone with half a brain could see you weren’t in the mood for mindless chat, especially with someone as irrelevant as her. You chose to ignore her and returned your attention back to him.
“Are you really doing this?”
He remained silent while little flickers of amusement tickled his lips. The woman eventually gained enough sense to disentangle herself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he was your-“
“He’s not. Have at him sweetie.”
You placed a palm to his face and mushed it as you walked past while simultaneously knocking your shoulder into hers. Under her breath there was an utterance of some sort that involved the word “bitch”, and it took everything within you not to whip back around and hurl your purse at her head. No use damaging a perfectly good bag.
As your heels clacked across the marble floors your body trembled with rage. A stiff drink probably would’ve done you some good but you weren’t in the mood, and the rest of the crew were off gallivanting around the casino but you had no desire to join them.
As luck would have it, a stool was vacated right as you arrived, and once settled in your seat, you plopped your purse on the counter and rolled your shoulders. The tension in your muscles slowly faded, and the heat simmering beneath your skin was cooled by the vent blasting overhead.
Your short-lived luck soon met its end as your attempts at flagging down the bartender were unsuccessful. After several fruitless waves, you made the decision to just end the night, but your movements were halted when a warm hand softly touched the small of your back. The touch was much too unfamiliar to be anyone from the crew—and certainly not that damned swordsman. You geared up to tell off the unwelcome guest but when you turned around you were met with the sensual gaze of the handsome man from the previous table.
“Need some help?”
You flashed him your most dazzling smile. He deserved it.
“From you? Of course.”
You heard his short intake of breath and knew you had him completely hooked—not that it took much effort really. From appearances alone it was obvious he was someone who easily garnered lots of attention. And yet you were the one who’d bewitched him, and he longed for your company. He wished to serve you, and you began flirting with the idea of allowing it. Hopefully that shitty asshole a few tables over had a perfect view.
The harried bartender finally arrived with your seltzer and lime, and your prior annoyance was quelled by his sincere apologies. The gentleman stopped your hand when you offered a tip, sliding his card over instead.
“Someone as pretty as yourself should never open their wallet.”
You snapped your clutch closed with a smirk. The guy was completely entranced.
He sat down beside you and began to ramble about his name, where he was from, and whatever it was he did that made his pockets long. You were sure it had to be interesting, but all of his words were diluted by the fog of your lingering jealousy. It was unfair to him, but you needed the distraction to keep yourself from being vexed for the rest of the night.
The squeak of Handsome Stranger’s chair blew aside your bitter thoughts when he tried to subtly inch closer, so you threw him a bone and adjusted yourself to allow the slit in your skirt to reveal more skin. Embers of his desire glowed deep his eyes, and he took a nervous gulp of his scotch before speaking.
“I hope I’m not being too forward but I would love to invite you back to my penthouse suite for a little nightcap, if you were so inclined?”
Your suddenly rose when you felt a piercing, steely glare from somewhere off to the side. Observation haki was not something you were completely practiced in, but it always seemed to appear in the most convenient times.
It was unfortunate that this sweet man was an innocent casualty in the toxic web he’d been ensnared in. The dim lights of the casino reflected in his enlarged pupils as he waited expectantly for your reply—as did the gruff man in the distance.
“Oh I would love to. But I have my nightly upkeep that I must maintain. Lots of serums and oils and creams to remain all nice and soft and sweet for tasteful men such as yourself. I wouldn’t want you to catch me looking anything less than perfect.”
He leaned closer and gently placed a cool hand over yours.
“If you come with me tonight I’ll have people that can handle your every need. Just stay with me. Let me take care of you.”
The guy was smooth, you’d certainly give him that. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles and he cocked his head to the side as if to bring his lips to your cheek, but a large hand grabbed his shoulder and forcefully shoved him back.
“She’s not going anywhere with you.”
Well. That barely took any time. You’d planned on at least allowing the man to walk you to the elevator.
“Excuse you,” you pouted theatrically, “that was very rude.”
Zoro slipped between the two seats to block the man from your sight.
“You done having your fun?”
Still playing nonchalant, you removed your lipgloss from your clutch and applied a few swipes across your lips.
“I don’t know what you mean. Please step aside so I can finish chatting with this lovely gentleman.”
Zoro side-eyed the man still gathering himself from being nearly toppled over and let out a dry laugh.
“You’re kidding, right? You’re gonna have to do a lot better if you wanna get a rise outta me.”
You sniffed and pretended to touch up the rest of your makeup though you knew it wasn’t needed—you looked absolutely divine.
“Well clearly it has, otherwise you wouldn’t be over here harassing my-“
“Your what?”
The man finally straightened himself out and stood by your side.
“Miss, is this guy bothering you? Shall I call security?”
Aw, what a sweetie. You began to feel a little bad for him when he was shouldered aside by Zoro’s massive body.
“So,” he scoffed, still ignoring him, “not only are you tryna piss me off, but you’re doing it with someone who thinks you’re weak?”
“Not everyone needs to use brute force to get their point across Zoro. We’re not all Neanderthals.”
Zoro’s face morphed into a taunting smirk that filled your belly with lava.
“True. But I know someone who needs brute force when they’re being a hypocritical brat.”
You fought the urge to tug him closer by the lapels of his suit jacket and bite his stupid lips just to shut him up.
The head of the unsuspecting man ping-ponged between your prickly jibes, and he stepped back as the realization of his use as a ploy began to sink in.
“I think I’d better just go.”
Zoro flashed him a maniacal grin as he stumbled away, and you began to gather your things when his arm hooked around your waist to drag you back into his chest.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Well,” you sighed as you tried to pull yourself free from his grasp, “you’ve effectively ruined my fun for the evening so I’m off to bed. Maybe you should go find your little girlfriend from earlier.” You heard him snicker as you walked away.
A sea of affluent casino-dwellers parted as you lead him back to the elevators, and he pressed his hard body into your back as he reached out to push the button. His warm breaths against your neck melted your glacial attitude, and his closeness was so foreboding that the levy of your sanity nearly collapsed.
The elevator doors slid open and he pushed you inside as a crowd of elaborately dressed guests exited. The night was fairly young so it was unlikely that anyone from the crew would come looking for you.
The lift climbed the floors with smooth efficiency and paused occasionally to allow more guests to enter and exit. The excitement in the box was palpable though it couldn’t quite penetrate the curtain of tension separating the two of you from the rest of the crowd. His fingers curled firmly around your hip and the subtle poke in his slacks left you breathless. Glancing at your glossy reflection in the gold-plated walls proved to be a mistake as you were met with menacing eyes and a callous grin that promised retribution.
You were under no impression that you’d part ways once you arrived at your floor, and your hands shook as you searched your bag for your key. Anxiety clawed at your chest when he swiped the key from your hands to slap it onto the card reader, and the soft click of the locking mechanism signified the final nail being hammered into your coffin. You were fucked.
Before you could gain your bearings you were shoved roughly into the wall with your arms pinned behind your back and a harsh mouth pressed to your ear.
“Bet you’re real proud of yourself, aren’t ya?”
Your heart pounded in your chest as you wobbled on your heels.
“You’re the one who started all of this with that slutty harlot downstairs.” Your sane mind would’ve admonished you for using such degrading language towards a woman, but your morals had been cast aside the moment he’d stepped out in that delicious cream suit—effortlessly sexy as always.
His low chuckle carried the rumblings of an approaching storm that rippled down your spine. “All I did was sit there and mind my drink. I can’t help it if a random woman has some kind of agenda.”
“Come on Zoro, you’re not dumb. You know what her agenda was, and you could’ve shut that shit down, but you didn’t.”
He loosened his grip on your arms when he felt your muscles strain but then re-tightened it when he remembered you mushing his face earlier.
“Why should I have shut her down,” he asked smugly. He obviously was living for your embarrassment.
“Because she’s not even someone you’d be interested in fucking.” He quirked a brow in surprise.
“Oh, she’s not?”
You chose not to speak and he pressed himself into your backside—the imprint of his arousal nestling between your cheeks.
“And who’s someone I’d be interested in fucking then?”
You had no witty reply as he pulled your long skirt up your thighs, so slowly you could almost feel every satiny fiber rub over your skin. He bunched it around your waist and gave your ass a squeeze.
“You played too close to fire the sweetheart. Now I’m gonna fuckin ruin ya.”
With a swiftness even you weren’t prepared for, he ripped off your lacy underwear and tossed it aside where it lay in tatters on the marble floor. He turned you around and shoved a thigh between your legs to prevent your escape. Not that you ever would.
“You chose the right guy to piss me off you know, knowing full well he wasn’t gonna rough you up the way you want.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was just having an innocent conversation.”
“Don’t play cute with me, you knew what you were doing.”
He forced your head back to leer at you through those stupid green-tinted sunglasses and you wanted to smack them off his face. Dick. How could he make something as tacky as wearing sunglasses indoors look sexy?
“Why have you been fucking with me Zoro?”
“Someone had to wake your ass up,” he murmured with a satisfied smirk.
You realized just how foolish you’d been—you were never the one who was in control. The man was an analytical genius, and you were always meant to be the prey. Your carefully curated web of petty games paled ten times over in comparison to anything he could construct.
“Okay. Since you’re the one that’s clearly in charge here, whatever am I to do?”
He rolled his eyes. “Quit the blushing good girl act and get your ass on the bed.”
“Couldn’t I at least get a kiss first,” you pouted and fluttered your lashes. You knew he hated when you pretended to act sweet and demure.
“No. Clearly you don’t deserve it yet.”
You must have taken too long for his liking for he took matters—and you—into his own hands by hoisting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. The weight of your body had hardly ever been an issue for him—what was an issue was your smart ass mouth.
“I’m surprised you could even find where the bed is.”
Your suite was fairly large so realistically it could take more than a few steps to actually reach it, but he clearly wasn’t in the mood for your diatribes. With a scoff, he roughly deposited you onto the luxurious bedding.
“The worst thing I can do right now is leave you here unfulfilled and unsatisfied, so maybe you should keep your mouth shut.”
You buttoned your lip and began unbuckling your shoes, and his eyes softened as he watched you wince while wiggling your toes.
“Dunno why you even bother with those things anyway, you know you can’t stand on them for more than an hour.”
“It goes with the outfit,” you sighed, tossing them aside.
“It’s a shame you’re not gonna get anymore wear outta that outfit.”
You leaned back on your elbows and watched him pull off his suit jacket and unzip the jumpsuit underneath down to his waist, though he didn’t remove any more than that.
He grasped your ankle to pull you back to the edge of the bed and tore your skirt apart at the slit as if it were rice paper. In the blink of an eye you were left bare and splayed before him like a feast waiting to be devoured. And oh how ravenously he would devour you—gnashing his teeth as he pulled you apart, and leaving nothing but the entrails of your bleeding heart behind. And then he’d sink his teeth into that too.
With his length completely exposed he flipped you over and propped you up on your elbows. His hand pushed your head down into the mattress, and he slapped your ass a few times, smiling to himself as you yelped from each impact. You felt him bite into the meaty flesh of your ass before following it with another harsh smack, and you hoped a reddened imprint of his teeth and hand would remain on your skin as a dirty reminder.
“I know you can do better than that. Spread your legs and arch your back more.”
Annoying as always, he demanded more while giving you virtually nothing. Your first instinct was to display disobedience, but his threat of leaving you high and dry made you compliant.
“Please Zoro, I’ve waited so long.”
You heard a clattering behind you that you assumed was his sunglasses being tossed aside. His rough fingers slid up and down your opening, and you whined when he refused to probe any deeper. You wiggled your hips in a wordless command.
“You’re such a needy girl, aren’t ya? Where’d all that fake innocence go?”
His fingers continued to tease you while he taunted, and your annoyance gave way to desperation.
“Zoro please. I’m begging you, please.”
A harsh smack on your pussy made your knees buckle.
“The begging’s nice, but I’m still waiting to hear an apology.”
You’d do anything but that. He was the one who started all of this.
“No?” He sighed in exasperation. “Alright then. Guess I’ll just leave you here to take care of yourself.”
“No wait!”
His hands crawled up your spine to grip your shoulder and the back of your neck, and he leaned over to tickle your ear with his lips.
“You want my dick that badly?”
Your tears wetted the sheets as they spilled from your eyes.
“I do, I want it so bad. So fucking bad. ’m sorry for being a brat.”
“Yeah?” His voice was strained. Clearly he was also holding himself back from giving in until you’d truly earned it. After a final swipe of his fingers along your slick folds he tapped your ass with his cock a few times before positioning himself.
“There it is. Keep begging for it.”
He gifted you with his tip, but your euphoria was short lived when he refused to fill you any further. You needed to feel every pulse that beat along the veiny underside of his length. As he stretched your walls torturously slow, your relieved whines were muffled by the silken sheets. The wait had been torturously long.
He slid his cock between your lower lips and the lubricant of his precum mixed with the wetness leaking from your pussy. One of his hands grasped your wrist to twist it behind your back and he repositioned himself once again at your entrance.
“Even though you don’t deserve it, I’m gonna fuck this needy pussy anyway.”
You gasped and sighed thankful whimpers as he pressed forward and stuffed you with a burning stretch. You’d have to adjust to his girth—every single part of his body was impossibly thick and wide. Calloused fingers tripped over your clit in an attempt to loosen your muscles, and before you knew it the two of you were fully connected.
His fingers crawled into your scalp and hooked around your tresses to tug your back, and you clenched walls and you unhinged your jaw with a deep moan. Finally, for the first time tonight, your desires were being fulfilled.
His hips snapped against your ass and all you could do was lay there and take it. The stillness of the room was rattled by the harsh slaps of your skin connecting and your rhythmic whiny moans. He was quiet, save for a couple of low grunts as he held you in place to mercilessly slam into your sex. He seemed disconnected—using you as his own personal toy to get himself off, so you were then taken by surprise when his gravelly voice finally acknowledged you.
“This what you needed to get you to behave? You’re something else. You know this is only meant for me, right? This is all mine, understand?”
He pulled your head further back and cupped your jaw, and you could see his eyes glow red from your peripheral.
“Yes. I understand.”
“You understand what,” he demanded as he smushed your cheeks together.
“My pussy is yours. I’m all yours. Only yours.”
You felt his cock throb inside you and he cursed under his breath. His groans rose in volume when your tongue slid and curled between the two fingers he’d stuffed inside your mouth, and he pressed them further down your throat to make you gag.
“Fuck, you’re so needy. Look at you tightening up around me.”
You heard him chuckle and he removed his fingers to caress and grope your curves—pinching your nipples and squeezing bruises into your skin. He never ceased his thrusts as his hand slid between your legs to circle your puffy clit. Jolts of pleasure electrified your nerves as he defiled you—hammering away until your foundation crumbled to dust.
He finally let go of your hair to hike his knee up on the bed and your body flopped bonelessly onto the mattress. The bed frame knocked noisily against the wall from the merciless onslaught, and you mourned the definite loss of your security deposit.
He sunk his teeth into your shoulder to draw out more of those precious sounds he loved so much while his tongue licked to soothe the raw skin. You could hear the faint tinkling of his earrings clinking together when he nuzzled the crook of your neck.
“Stop being so quiet. Use that big mouth of yours and let me hear you.”
You gulped, filling your lungs with muggy bits of air.
“I don’t…want anyone to hear.”
His movements stilled.
“Yes you do.”
The air in your lungs was trapped as you held your breath.
“Why would you stop?”
“Because I know you’re lying.”
His cock twitched and he relinquished some of his practiced control by sensually grinding his hips, achingly slow. A totally different rhythm from what he’d started with.
“I know you wish that waitress could see us now.” His voice had dipped to an intimate murmur as he stroked your walls. You could hear the crude sounds of how slick and slippery you were at the base of your connection—he’d reached so deep that he prodded your delicate center.
“You want her to see who all of this belongs to. That I’m all yours.”
You whimpered with every rough slam of his hips, and he picked your head up to crush your lips together. His tongue invaded your mouth and you gripped the sheets as trails of saliva trickled down your chin.
He ceased his invasive overtaking of your mouth to lick up the wetness dribbling down your jaw.
“Open your mouth.”
His voice was a puppeteer that held the strings to control your body. You opened your mouth in a stupor and stuck out your tongue, and he chuckled at your immediate compliance before spitting the remnants of your saliva back into your mouth.
“Hold it there and keep your tongue out.”
You dared not disobey. He kept your head in place to examine your face and you rubbed your ass against him in an attempt to get him to fuck you harder. He smirked and finally let go of your jaw.
“Swallow.”
Immediately you closed your mouth and gulped, savoring your tastes mixing together. He continued grinding against your ass until he pressed you back down into the mattress to resume his rough thrusts. You went to bring your fingers to your clit to help yourself along but he yanked your hand away and pinned it back onto the bed.
“Nuh uh,” he tutted, “you don’t get to finish. Be good and lay there.”
You whined and begged him to let you cum but he smiled wickedly and selfishly chased his own high. Even if you weren’t permitted to touch yourself, his cock still reached the deepest depths of your insides—kissing that fleshy patch of bliss which left your body immobile. His grunts became faster as his balls slapped against your ass, and the squeaks of the weakened bed frame synchronized with his frantic thrusts. You chanted his name and arched your back as he gripped your waist to pound you into the mattress.
He fucked you in a frenzy—biting incoherent curses into your skin. And with one last slam into your abused pussy his body seized and he groaned as he released inside of you so fully that it spilled out to form a ring around the base of his cock. Your walls fluttered as you desperately rubbed your clit—still keeping your back arched to hold him in place as you rushed to follow. It only took a few firm circles around your bud before the muscles in your core tightened and your legs shook as electricity spread throughout your body to shock every one of your nerve endings. You let out a cry into the sheets and Zoro thrust lazily to help carry you along until you sighed weakly and relaxed.
He pulled out smoothly and the warmth of his cum slid down between your thighs and onto the floor. After straightening back up he turned you around and finally pressed his lips to yours. You hummed and wrapped your arms around his neck, and his hands came down to squeeze your ass a few times before giving it a smack.
“That’s my girl,” he smirked as he laid you back down onto the bed and laid next to you.
“That was so mean,” you giggled as you rested your head on his chest and dragged your fingers over his pec.
“You deserved it. Acting like such a brat, as if it wasn’t obvious that I’m already yours. And you’re mine.”
Your body buzzed from his words and you cupped his cheek to kiss his jaw.
“Yeah, I’m yours. And you’re mine.”
#myfic#once piece#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x yn#roronoa zoro x black reader#roronoa zoro x black! reader#it’s been so long#i hope yall like it#one piece
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