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kamaluhkhan · 3 months ago

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LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

mail to:

Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE!

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later.

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year.

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy.

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too.

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow.

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!”

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis.

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples.

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!”

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears.

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond.

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand.

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it.

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.”

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.”

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you.

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke.

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat.

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly.

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you.

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface.

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all.

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father.

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief.

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes.

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.”

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze.

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained.

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up.

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others.

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways.

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why.

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s.

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too.

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars.

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all.

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely.

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he’d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him.

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you.

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just ��

“hey.”

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you.

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking.

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed.

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….”

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time.

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash.

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully.

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too.

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together.

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill.

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise.

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw.

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves.

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost.

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly.

it fell just as quickly.

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others.

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids.

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow.

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party.

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun.

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away.

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.”

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways.

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy.

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.”

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.”

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek.

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.”

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart.

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile.

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way.

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you.

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit.

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you.

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased.

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further.

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin.

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.”

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?”

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body.

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes.

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner.

so, it’s fine.

this, this thing with eros, is fine.

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.”

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden.

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin.

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words.

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not.

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more.

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger.

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.”

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego.

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers.

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into.

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while.

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it.

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies.

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.”

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over.

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.”

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really.

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you.

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief.

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while.

but that isn’t all.

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat.

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move.

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness.

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night.

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday.

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on.

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters.

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.)

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake.

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how.

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was.

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder.

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything.

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same.

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were.

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out.

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship.

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too.

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army.

and once it was all over?

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood.

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?”

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience.

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question.

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though.

by the end of august, you’d be gone too.

now

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water.

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.”

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope.

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst

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lactoseintolerentswag · 1 year ago

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Rise Characterizations Pt. 3!!!

Now that Leo and Raph are done, it's Donnie's turn for character analysis as a writing reference. So without further ado,

Donnie Character Notes

Language Habits:

Straight up talks like a redditor who hasn't touched enough grass (affectionate)

Oscillates between very scientific paper polished, sometimes adding a dazzle of shakespearean for dramatics, or abbreviations/a shorter version of a word with a more fun connotation (i.e. "brekkie" instead of breakfast)

Uses food as surprised exclamations or curses, "oh my peaches and cream", "banana pancakes!"

Emphasizes each syllable of a long word when he's excited or trying to make a point. Conquered becomes con-qu-ered

Either exaggerates his speech or speaks in deadpan

The science terms he uses as battle cries aren't chosen at random, but rather are related to the action/subject at hand, i.e. yelling "fibonacci" when throwing his spinning tech-bo

Will overly describe an item or a situation, and often gets caught up in these observations before processing what just happened

Will repeatedly yell "help!" when he's distressed and/or outnumbered

Refers to Mikey as "Michael"

Refers to his brothers as "brethren" or "gentlemen"

Refers to splinter as either "father", "papa", or "dad" depending on the weight of the situation

Refers to his tech as his "babies"

Answers the phone with, "You're conversing with Donatello"

Uses "gesundheit" instead of bless you

Personality:

The fixer, he supplies the family with tech and resources. He always has a trinket made for the situation at hand and/or offers his knowledge/data collected. He's always prepared to help. Even with outside resources, he likes to feel useful in solving their problems (i.e., building Todd that dog park)

The theater kid, in a similar vein to leo, Donnie has his own style of dramatics. He often uses shakespeare-like language, is mentioned to regularly recite the jupiter jim musical soundtrack, and has a music mode for his battle shell. He belongs on a stage, or at least thinks he does

Not good at lying, despite the glamour he can put on in the spotlight. This may be due to the side of himself that over explains his thoughts

An over-thinker, who really tends to over-complicate things. His first theory or idea will always be the most extreme buck-wild concept. After some filtering, he still word vomits

A dreamer/big idea guy. He does have big ideas and goals. A lot of these he's able to put into place, although some go a little haywire (see Albearto). He doesn't do things in halves, and puts everything into a project

Meticulous, someone who's very detail oriented. As mentioned before he tends to over-complicates things. This may be impacted by his love for data and collecting information (he does record Everything for a reason)

Always on the edge of violence, which is surprising. Donnie's not known as being the angry archetype of tmnt, but he can get a little violent in his fighting style and does often cite his desire to use lethal force

Low empathy, which is mainly due to his issues processing and recognizing emotions. He's been pegged as unemotional, but in canon he's rather emotional and expressionate, just lacking the skills to process such emotion (he's just like me fr)

Praise motivated, as seen with his interactions with Splinter. Also desires the praise of his brothers, who he doesn't feel understand him with all the teasing that's sent towards his direction. This also pushes him to seek validation and acceptance in other groups (i.e. the purple dragons), to feel a sense of security or belonging

Ignores his own mistakes, and will often pretend like they didn't exist or ever happen. This most likely has to do with his desire for praise, so he feels bad when he fails. If he never made a mistake, he never has to feel bad

Miscellaneous:

Fourth to unlock mystic powers

Uses "Bootyyyshaker9000" as most of his usernames and passwords, with his alt. username being "Alpha-Bootyyyshaker9000"

Has a fear of bees, spiders, and of course beach balls

Breaks the fourth wall the most

Loves the smell of pineapple, hates the texture

Has a hobby of rooting around in the junkyard and dumpster diving

Uses cheat codes in video games

Mikey's next of course :)

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #character analysis #long post #fanfic #writing #critter talks

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antsday · 4 months ago

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in the palm of your hand

[i was re-reading @habken's incredible scammers to lovers au and wrote this short fic. I really love their work and couldn't help myself lmaoo. anyways i hope you all enjoy!!!]

“Hi! Can I help you with- oh,” says the angel from the IT department, spinny chair swiveling to a stop. “It’s you again.”

The first week Katsuki had come in, Deku had been relatively understanding and chipper- bright and sunny and shit. More personal than the strained smile and forced cheer that most customer service workers spoke with- of course I’ll fix your laptop, no problem, just leave it to me.

Now, about three weeks later he looks at Katsuki like he’s just bitten into a lemon. As in, like Katsuki had come into the IT department, looked Deku in the eye, bit into a lemon, and then made a puckered up face and writhed in discomfort and then showed up with another lemon the next day, rinse and repeat for nearly a month. A complicated mix of intrigue and confusion and mild horror at this endless display of masochism.

Which is fair; there really is no other way to look at a top ten Pro Hero who repeatedly comes in to have his laptop fixed and won’t admit under penalty of death that it was because he clicked a pop-up in hopes of having a proper conversation with a dreamy IT guy. Not that Dreamy IT guy in question knows about all of that, but whatever. If Katsuki was in Deku’s position, he would also be worried about the fact that the safety and integrity of the public was left in the hands of guys who can’t stop getting scammed by obvious pop-up ads.

“Your laptop’s broken again?” Deku says incredulously, as if reading Katsuki’s mind. His voice is really nice, even when he sounds confused as shit. Smooth and soft like- like a satin pillowcase. Or something. Whatever. It’s not like they pay him to be good with words.

Then again, it’s not like they pay him to (unsuccessfully) flirt with the guy he’s normally supposed to see once a month max, but here he was.

“Yeah,” says Katsuki, like he said two days ago, and then three days before that, and for the past month. It’s easier to say than I got a pop-up ad for a BL manga and I am ninety percent sure the twink on the cover was just a recolor of Sasuke Uchiha and I clicked it because I’m a fucking dumbass and I needed an excuse to keep coming in here and gazing into your dreamy-ass eyes. If you even care.

He’s surprised Deku’s even asking. He’s been consistently coming in here for exactly the same reason: his laptop ‘mysteriously’ got a virus and now he needs it fixed. He’ll be back to pick it up soon, no, he’s not getting a new laptop, no, he’s not sure what happened, no, he’s not going to install some fancy-ass ad-blocker because he doesn’t want to (and it would get rid of his excuse), and Deku’s never asked this but yes, he would love to go get dinner sometime, he’s free today and tomorrow and the day after that and the rest of his life, forever, actually-

“...Did you,” Deku begins, like he’s searching for the right words. “Uh. Do you have any idea what could have happened? Any idea at all?”

I gazed into the dead-eyed stare of poorly-recolored Sasuke’s green eyes and thought of you because your eyes are also green, and less unnerving to look at, and the more I thought about that the more my mouse moved away from the ‘x’ button and the next thing I know, I have a virus and my desire to carnally hold your hand has overpowered any other logical thought. That’s what happened.

“No,” Katsuki says belatedly. “Fuck. Look, can you fix it or not?”

“Of course,” says Deku. He’s still got that little furrow in his brow. Katsuki wants to bite at it like taffy- which, is a weird fucking thing to think, scratch that- “Just- give it over, and I’ll be sure to have it ready for you in a little while.”

“Cool.” He holds out his laptop. It’s reminiscent of when he was four and showing off the cool rhinoceros beetle he caught to his mom. He’s internally beaming with pride at his success so far, and Deku’s got that same baffled, borderline horrified expression that his mom did.

Although, that particular interaction ended with the thing flying out of his hands and into his mom’s cardigan and with him getting yelled at, so, maybe it’s not the ideal scenario to compare this to.

But this encounter will end differently. He’s got a grip on the rhinoceros beetle, now. He just has to play his cards right.

“So,” he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks so Deku won’t see how fucking sweaty they are. “You’ll have it ready by lunch tomorrow?”

Deku takes the laptop and tilts his head. “Uh. Yeah, I will. In fact, I can get it to you earlier than that-”

“I’ll be busy for the rest of the day,” Katsuki lies. All his incident reports are done, and he’s got the night shift on patrol tomorrow. “You’re done by 2 tomorrow, right?”

“...Yes?”

“Great. Look, I have to stop at that fucking- crepe place, down the street, right,” he says, praying to every God there is that he looks cool and casual and not like a ‘Deranged Goblin Man’, as the Hero Times described him a few months ago. “So. When you get off work you should meet me there. At the crepe place. Tomorrow. At two pm.”

He doesn’t know what’s worse- the fact that he’s really doing this, being reduced to the same sort of emotional sap he would have made fun of only five years ago; or the fact that Present Mic’s lessons on subtlety and hidden meanings in text were actually good for something.

Look at him, effortlessly weaving together words to create sentences with underlying motives. He’s like a modern-day Shakespeare. He’s golden. He’s killing it. Bakugou Katsuki, master of words. He’s on cloud-fucking-nine. He’s-

…aaaaand Deku isn’t responding.

Deku blinks. He opens his mouth. Closes it. He sets the laptop down, staring up at Katsuki intently, and Katsuki starts to sweat.

You are Bakugou Katsuki, he reminds himself. You might be down bad, but you’re not weak. It will not kill you if he rejects you. Well, it’ll kill you a little. But not that much.

“At the crepe pla- to give you the laptop, right?” says Deku slowly. His face is turning bright red. Katsuki goes a little weak in the knees.

“Sure, yeah,” Katsuki says half-heartedly. “Look, if you want, I could. I dunno. Fucking- buy you a crepe or something. As payment.”

He’s so smooth. Eat your fucking heart out, Dunce Face. ‘Zero game’, his ass.

“Sure,” Deku says, scratching the back of his neck, smile just a tad bit shy. His face is still mildly flushed. Katsuki swoons (and does his best to not let it show on his face). “I- uh. I’d like that. I guess.”

“Cool,” says Katsuki. “Cool. Great. Okay, bye. Be there or else. Bye. See you.”

He turns on his heel and power walks out of the room, not once looking back, even when Pigtails nearly crashes into him or when Deku makes a noise suspiciously like he’s slamming his head against the desk. He walks out of the room, into the hallway, back to his own office.

The door slams shut behind him. He takes a deep breath. Squeezes his eyes shut. A breathlessly excited grin forces his way onto his face, and he pumps his fists, victorious.

He's got a date.

part one/part two

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bkdk #bakudeku #dkbkdk #scammers to lovers #IT!deku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bkdk fic #ant writes

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hamsternella · 3 months ago

Note

please do a NSFW alphabet of Stanley Pines, please I'm begging you. The one with Ford was amazing.

Here it is!

Stanley Pines NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

It takes him some time to catch his breath, but rest assured that through it all Stan will be wrapping your body in a gentle embrace, accompanied by his laughter. He always tells you how much he loved the encounter, and how beautiful you look despite the sweat and the palpable smell of sex. Not exactly romantic; but amidst all the talk and laughter you always find in his eyes a look of intense love and tenderness.

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Did you know that in addition to generating conflict and lying a lot, Stan's mouth is good for other kinds of really cool stuff? Like giving you the strongest orgasms and the deepest kisses. If he had to choose, it would always be his mouth. His penis, too—but that last one doesn't exactly sound amazing. Of course his cock feels great; but he prefers that with which he can confess to you precious things, like how much he loves you, or how hot you look riding him. Stan is an expert with words.

Now, as for you… it's complicated. Stan loves everything about you—your whole body is his favorite thing. But if you were to urge him to pick one in particular, he'd say your face. There are many things that turn him on; but your face, in particular, gets him more than anything else in the world. Seeing you in his eyes as he pushes your head so you swallow his cock whole, gasping at you about how good you're being to him and that you're in for a great reward for being so obedient, makes Stan lose himself in a limbo of unimaginable pleasure.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot and hard. He loves to do it on your ass, or inside your mouth; always making sure you've swallowed it all. If you would give him the approval, then he would also do it inside you.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When Stanley can't stand the growing desire for you that consumes him, the cameras tracking your position throughout the cabin help him lessen the need. Whether it's paperwork, business matters, the presence of many buyers or your own personal affairs, Stan tries to use any excuse to control himself, although there are days when it's impossible. A little of your figure or your smile helps him enjoy himself in the privacy of his office.

It's not always him patting his bulge through his pants, his body leaning fully against the chair; sometimes it's the necessity of having to watch you smile while he lets out sighs like an idiot losing his breath because of love. Whether it's one or the other, Stan refuses to let you catch him daydreaming in the gloom of his office. How are you supposed to look him in the face if you knew the adolescent attitudes he has in privacy?

Some recordings end up saved for when you're away. Eventually this guy takes up the activity of taking pictures—of which you don't ever have to know. Unless you find the box tucked away in the back of the closet, of course.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced. Your first night with Stan is unforgettable, and all those that follow equally so. He knows exactly what to do and say to make you a mess; no matter the place or the situation. He is a man who has lived diverse experiences, which help fuel everything that crosses his mind about sex. Rough, tough; soft or sweet—whatever you want and however you want. Stan is willing to teach you everything it takes to make you feel good.

F= Favorite position

It would be difficult to decide the best position, but there are a couple that always end up being used the most.

Rocking horse, because it's the easiest way to have your face close to his, with your eyes on his—the intense gaze of your man devouring your whole figure as you ride him. Impossible to lose sight of you. Stan loves that.

Missionary, because who doesn't love the classics? Nothing better than owning your body from above, bursting into your core with every thrust as Stan rips out a couple of those sweet sounds he loves so much.

Doggy, because if there's one other thing that drives him crazy, it's being able to take the tender flesh of your ass between his hands while watching himself enter you. Stan can grab you by the hair, caress your back or handle you at will. Better yet: you won't see his face when you moan his name; the way his eyes fill with longing.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Stan is as serious as he can get. He won't be a sea of laughter or jokes, but neither will he be completely at the mercy of an unflappable face or a tense body. A joke here, a joke there; sometimes a couple of stifled chuckles and crooked smiles, but all a product of the situation itself and the emotions that overwhelm him. It's nothing to be uncomfortable about, I assure you. Stan is a playful guy, who enjoys seeing you made a mess in his hands. Some humor doesn't hurt; but be assured that nothing he does or says is going to be to make fun of you in a bad way.

The effect is always the opposite, in fact.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Hairy and unkempt. That's just the way he is. Stan attributes it to his genes, no matter how much you insist that fixing it is a separate issue. Of course, if that's the way you like it, there won't be a problem; but if it's the other way around, and no matter how much he complains about it, rest assured that Stan will get to work to at least trim it a little. The truth is, he likes hair—and that includes you, too. There is no need to feel ashamed!

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Extremely aware of your needs, which was a surprise the first time together. Stan may seem like a difficult guy —because he certainly is—, but in privacy his heart comes out, even with the heaviness of carnal desire upon you. He's a sensitive man; his rough hands always shy when the heat of the moment subsides, his eyes heavy with concern and his face red, sweaty.

The hoarse words of love and hugs are not lacking. Never. There comes a point where you consider that he needs it more than you do.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Stan used to do it regularly when he first met you, being that you didn't see each other often. But once you put your presence in the cabin, the masturbation thing becomes more of a regular occurrence if you two do it together. Stan loves to watch you touch yourself in front of him; just as many other times he did it himself to play with you, watching you get desperate. It's that way you see him so hungry, so needy, that makes him throw himself on you, bending your body over as best he can to fill you up.

Seeing you is all he needs—you are all he needs.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Blindfold sex, dominance and praise kink.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

Naughty hands are everywhere. Stan allows you a moment's respite when there are people around; but there will always be a kiss or a couple of dirty words stirring up the floor. Now, when it comes to sex he prefers private places, because the last thing he wants is to risk being seen by someone else; or being interrupted and causing a scene. Sometimes Stan has certain fantasies, but they don't amount to much for the same reasons. The bedroom or office —even the kitchen or bathroom, if you're alone— is more than enough. He's a simple guy.

The car is another perfect place. You are the best travel companion!

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If you make a pass at him or if you get rebellious Stan feels his pants bothering him. Suddenly his hands itch with the need to put you in your place—maybe a good spanking will help make you say all those dirty things that make him push his cock all the way down your throat.

If you use honesty to tell him how much you need him you may be spared punishment, but still get what you want so badly. Stan tends to warm up to your honesty when it comes to him. This guy loves that you want him as much as he wants you. That's what love is like.

N= No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Some burning is fine if you let him; but direct harm and anything else you dislike is a complete NO.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Stan loves to give oral. He loves the taste of you in his mouth and the way you squirm. But oh, my, he'd be lying if he said he doesn't prefer to have you with your mouth wide open and your eyes full of tears. How this man loves to keep you warm and full to the brim; wet lips and his hands on your head or your cheeks, cheering you on from above with pride shining in his gaze—because you're so good and you do it perfect, so well. You look beautiful when all you do is eat pure cock.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow at first, not so deep because he prefers to savor the pressure around him. Then it's a constant of hard and fast movements.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He likes them a lot, but it is something that tires him out and eventually the time comes to accept that at his age it is an activity that requires preparation and patience. At the end of the day Stan prefers regular foreplay, and the actual sex in the bedroom, in peace.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Stan is willing to experiment and take risks. He has no problem with it. As long as these kinds of experiments don't involve other people, of course; other than that there are plenty of things he's willing to put into practice with you.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

At the moment Stan gives the impression that he is a beast, but when the heat of said moment subsides you realize that he tires quite quickly, and doesn't give room for many rounds. Not that it is so necessary, either, because such is the intensity of the sex that there is nothing else to bring to the table. It's something that at first gave Stan insecurities—all this about his inability to go further. But a talk with you is enough to clear up certain misunderstandings.

Sex is amazing, especially because it's between you. There's nothing more to say.

T= Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

YES, no more questions. Stan is more than willing to experiment with you. Either using them with you, or even letting you do it with him. Whatever it is, it's a matter of finding out what else comes out of all this. Possibly fun! That's never lacking with Stan.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Very much so. Even though you tell him it's hopeless, he loves seeing you so needy. It's like an addiction—seeing that face and those eyes, that way your lips quiver. Stan would never stop doing it. He doesn't plan to, either.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts and gasps, lots of dirty talk in between. It's almost at the end that the sounds increase, but he always manages to drown out most of them.

W= Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Stan is not only a very jealous person, but also extremely insecure. There are many ghosts from his past that still haunt him; that persist since you came into his life, to be more specific. It's complicated for him, but talking about it with you makes him embarrassed. Words of affirmation and acts of service always help to remind him how important he is to you.

On the other hand, Stan is touch starved. It's one thing to rub hands together, to just kiss, or to smile and flirt in public. But it's a different story when you're alone together: cuddling to sleep, deep kisses and confessions of an almost needy, even timid love. He is simply lost in you. You're so perfect that maybe you're not even real.

X= X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not so long—but thick. Slightly curved downward, with a fat head.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Stan needs you badly. That's all you need to know. Even if there is no sex, touch is never lacking. It would be a crime not to be able to enjoy your skin against his; the heat of your body feeding that desire that burns inside him. Stan needs you with a voracious hunger.

The longing is too much if it's about you.

Z= Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Very fast. It's hard for him to keep his eyes open, but at least he manages to talk to you a little to make sure you're okay before he falls asleep in your arms. The caresses are not lacking; his fingers still tremble in your hair as sleep takes hold of him.

Can there be anything better than sleeping next to you?

#fanfic #reader insert #reader #gravity falls #gravity falls stanley #stan pines #stanley pines #ns//fw #stan

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 month ago

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brocon | a. oliver

✮ tags ; afab + fem!reader, unrequited love (from reader but not to oliver), presence of honorfics (nii-san mostly), incest (incestual roleplay and one sided incestual affection lol), oliver is not the older brother but he wishes he was, Too Casual About Incest in this one, oral (m!recieving), mentions of cervix fucking + deepthroating, cream pies, casual sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 2.5k

✮ a/n ; im reading too many doujinshis. everyday i become a little more insane. i miss you all. i also hate this guy.

c. consider this like a prelude by the way. im definitely going to expand on this universe rip.

also im dead fucking tired so tenses are all over the place. im gonna skip class tomorrow i think lol

✮ synopsis ; oliver is not put off by your brother complex. he probably should be.

Oliver isn’t very meddlesome.

He’s a captain, but that’s as far as he’s ever willing to extend himself when it comes to getting deeply involved with other people. He loves soccer, loves strikers, etc. Annoying shit is tolerable if it’s for the love of the game.

So in terms of his willingness to interfere, it starts and stops at soccer.

The same is not true for relationships. Never has been really. He isn’t sure if he’s always been like that. He got his heart broken in high school, before his career took off and get much time to think about what he wanted after.

He’ll never claim to be paragon of morality. Whether or not he’s pre-disposed for it, he’s been around the block and doesn’t take anything too seriously. A lot of what he’s down for just depends on where he’s at and he stands to gain.

But, he’s always been straightforward about it so whatever.

From experience, he prefers dating women with a lot to lose - career driven types. Long term, they’re the easiest to break up with because they rarely chase after him and have little desire for the spotlight. He likes cute, innocent types too, for different reasons - but it can get messy easily so he has to be off season to fuck them or date. His type in men depends on what he’s feeling. He likes getting topped by quiet, stoic men and likes topping slutty pretty boys.

Case and point, Olivers type is whoever wants to fuck him and he wants to fuck too. It’s not complicated and isn’t defined by any particular thing. When it comes to appearance and personality - well he’s fine with whatever. He’s not really interested in being exclusive. He likes to have fun and like freely, or something like that.

His only real criteria for sex and partnership are: discreet, sane, want to fuck him.

You fit one of those parameters for sure. You’re very discreet.

But while you and Oliver are sleeping together, it’s not him you actually want.

Oliver met you a few months back. You were by yourself in the bar of a nice motel and dressed to the nines, crying alone over a drink. The game plan was simple. He would chat you up, console you, and bring you to bed. You both get to feel good, and you get to forget for a while.

An attempted act of kindness and sincerity.

He did just that too. Slid up next to you easy, bought you a drink. You were mostly sober - told him you had to drive early the next day. Alcohol was just to soothe your broken heart. You broke down after that. Red-rimmed watery eyes, barely keeping it together - it didn’t take much effort for Oliver to get you to open up. Apparently someone you loved had just got married. You even gave a speech for the wedding. Sobbed a little about how you’re happy he’s happy but you’re devastated.

Oliver offered you a shoulder to cry on. Whispered in your ear real sweet about licking each others wounds for the night. How he’d be happy to help you forget. You went back to your hotel with little fuss. And he’s a half decent bastard after all, so he didn’t go too hard on you during the sex. Gave you boyfriend treatment as a consolation prize for your efforts. Foreheads pressed together, arms around his shoulders, lots of kissing and making eye contact.

That kind of sex is fun sometimes, at least when it’s not very serious.

You had great compatibility in bed. Some post coital pillow talk also revealed that your mutual interests meshed pretty well - so you decided to see each other again for the purposes of fucking. Oliver needs a reliable partner who won’t try to ruin his career and you need a shoulder to lean on and forget about your true love.

It was working out well for him really. And like he said, he’s not really the type to pry into other peoples affairs.

For better or for worse though, having frequent sex with someone usually gets you acquainted with random aspects of their life. The friends parts of friends with benefits usually means you’re seeing some part of them you didn’t sign up for.

It took three months of sleeping with you, around the 8th time you met up for sex, for him to realize who your unrequited love actually was.

He thought it might’ve been someone off limits from the way you spoke about it. Though you tended to avoid the subject altogether.

Had he known he was going to get involved with a girl that has the worst brother complex he’s ever seen, he would’ve reconsidered seeing you again.

Maybe. Or maybe not.

Truthfully, Oliver is less bothered by brocon thing than he thought he’d be. He hadn’t realized because of anything you told him. Just that once, you were laying on his chest when you got a call in the middle of the night from your older brother.

You’re not the sweet type, to put it bluntly. Oliver would categorize you as the working professional sort with a lot to lose - high spec and calculating. Aside from the night he met you, he’d never seen you act in a way he would consider needy or childish - even after sex. Or ever, really - even when something happens that might garner that response.

Seeing the way your eyes lit up, the way your whole demeanor changed as you spoke with him on the phone. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. He didn’t have plans to confront you about it at the time. It wasn’t really his business, or at least that’s what he told himself.

At a certain point though, he felt like he couldn’t dance around it.

He brought it up on a whim one night. Regretted it because he liked your current relationship and didn’t want it to end, but he felt it had to be done.

He doesn’t know what exactly he was expecting, if anything at all. He thought you’d cuss him out or something. Tell him to fuck off and mind his business. Tell him to not be gross, maybe.

But he didn’t expect tears, nor did he expect the childish sadness that came along with the mere mention of you beloved nii-san.

That had made him wanna pry.

It wasn’t hard to get you to open up about it. Frankly, he didn’t actually give a shit about the incest part, so you felt safe enough to tell him when he asked. Your older brother was basically your whole life. You’re half siblings, abandoned by the same parent. You had a rough upbringing but your older brother took care of you and sacrificed a lot. You realized you were in love with him in middle school and kept it in since. He’s about four years older than you and his wife is a very gentle person.

Oliver isn’t concerned about the details. He’s nosy - so he asks but he wouldn’t’ve forced you if you didn’t want to talk about it. But it seems like you really did, since you were happy to tell him anything on your mind.

You were…different after that. After he knew, you relaxed considerably. He didn’t think of you as guarded until you stopped being that way and started acting more… docile.

Oliver doesn’t mind that change either, which is shocking for him. Usually you’re far off but after you cum, you soften up and act kind of… cute.

You’re a little clingier, and generally speaking - sweeter to him when you’re guard is down. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose. You never ask Oliver to treat you any softer or get demanding with him. And there’s never an instance where he has to worry about if that’ll change because as nice as you are to him, it’s clear as day that no one in the world will ever surpass your affection for your older brother.

(Once, after sex, Oliver asks you what you like about about your older brother. The question comes as a shock to you both, but mostly to him because he isn’t sure why he thinks to ask. You’re happy enough to answer it though. According to you, he’s perfect.

He’s kind and thoughtful, gentle and doting, tall, strong and handsome. You’ve got little hearts in your eyes when you say all this. You add towards the end that part of the reason you sleep with Oliver is because they’re so different you can forget all about it.

He laughs at that, but he isn’t sure how sincere it is.)

As time goes by, Oliver never gets totally used to the change. As soon as you get a call or text from your beloved nii-san, you perk up like all the life has been breathed back into you. He hears you talk sometimes and it’s clear that your brother also probably has a bit of a sister complex.

You’re more open around Oliver sure - but it pales in comparison to when you get a call from him. How could a person be so different? He assumes the answer is love, but he can’t wrap his head around it having that much impact on your character.

Oliver tries not to think about it.

You’ve continued sleeping together out of habit and as time went by - you started to hang out for no real reason. It’s remained casual. You never want anything from him except dick and sometimes attention, but its clear that it isn’t from the one sided hope of becoming his girlfriend. And he knows almost too well that you don’t care for him in a special way because he knows what that looks like on you - and every kindness you’ve shown him is just who you are.

It’s not like Oliver isn’t keenly aware of all of that.

But it doesn’t stick until he offers up roleplaying with you on a whim.

He suggests it to fuck with you really. And maybe because he’s a little irritated by it. He wants to upset you a little, petty as it is. See how you react. He was expecting you to get pissed off, maybe even cuss him out a little over being a jerk.

That is not the reaction he receives. Instead you flush all over. Your hands fist on your knees and you get shy over just the prospect. He’s had you bent in every position known to man but he’s never seen you more embarrassed then the very idea of uttering the name nii-san in relation to sex.

You do have a moment of sobriety after the fact, hit him with your pillow and tell him not to be a dick.

But then, he can’t let it go. So he grabs you by the wrist and says it’s fine. It’s what he’s here for isn’t he? Always has been.

Only seeing it does it start to really click.

It’s the most intense sex you’ve ever had , and it doesn’t feel profoundly fucked up until you take his dick into your mouth. Hearts in your eyes while he strokes your hair, swallowing his cock - nuzzling it, kissing, it and being so devoted he doesn’t know if he’s the most unlucky man alive or the least.

You’re always a sight for sore eyes when you’re hoping to please him somehow. You’re a little haughty in bed in a way he’s into—

But fuck, it’s different when you’re doing it for your big brother. He’s never seen you so horny in his life. Touching yourself so desperately while you’re deepthroating his length, eyes rolling back into your skull as you swallow him all the down to the base. Moaning into it even as you gag and hiccup and spit.. Drool clinging to your lips, stretched all the way to the corners - wetness sliding down the curve of your neck and chest. Your face flush, damp tears clinging to your lashes while he strokes his thumb against your cheek and tells you the same few words over and over.

Nii-san’s so proud of you. You’re being so good for your me. Over and over, reinforcing it again and again. Hearing the words and just thinking of it seem to be enough for you.

It’s about the same when he does finally fucks you. Oliver gets into it at the end. Puts you in a full nelson and fucks you stupid, the head of his cock battering into you and demanding to be let in. You feel good split apart on his dick - pussy stretched so tight it barely fits him.

You always do your best to take him, but he sees what the affection does to you. You get so horny that you spread your legs without being fucked open on his fingers first. Your body is responsive to it. He almost feels bad for your brother, not getting to know what it feels like. Oliver is only playing pretending but your cunt squeezes his dick so tight, holds onto him like it doesn’t want to let go. It’s not even the real thing yet your body is keen on milking him. Built and bred like it was made for your older brother to fuck.

He’ll never get the chance too. Oliver relishes in it more than he can be honest about.

Once he’s inside, you tell Oliver in a lust drunk haze that nii-san can have whatever he wants. That’s when he knows you’re running on nothing but lust. And by then, he is too. You whimper when he moves - say yes when he hisses that he’s gonna fuck you deep enough to flood your cervix. Nod desperately when he offers to fuck your cervix open too.

It’s nothing but filthy bullshit but the words come out easier as his cock keeps slipping out of you from how wet you are over the thought alone.

It finally settles in when when you’ve nearly fucked yourself unconscious. Riding his cock with your tshirt pulled up over your tits, eyes closed and legs wobbling - saying it over and over. Begging for your brother who you love so dearly while you fuck on him with all the strength in your hips.

Seeing that makes him realize that he’s not a stand-in.

Only because it’s an impossible outcome in the first place.

It’s the first time he cums inside of you, and the first time you cry after sex. Oliver holds you afterwards. You whisper a thank you so sincere to him afterwards he loses his fucking mind, all soft and watery and needy. Don’t protest when he pulls you into a bath or holds you.

You stay with him through the night and he realizes right about then that he’s completely and utterly fucked.

It’s his karma, he assumes. Wanting a girl who has a severe brother complex is Oliver’s own special hell - hand crafted to make him feel as fucked up as possible.

But damn does he want you bad anyway.

#tw oliver aiku #oliver x reader #bluelock x reader #oliver smut #bluelock smut #incest cw #im delirious as fuck sdkjhsjdflmkj #writing tag #me when i post this in the middle of the night and disappear HEKSDJKSD

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eustasskidagenda · 1 year ago

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anon asked: Hi! I just read your Kid, Zoro, Law & Sanji hc with a s/o afraid of having sex and I just loved it! Your writing is amazing and I really enjoyed it. I struggle with vaginismus so I pretty much know how stressful this situation could be. But I’m actually curious to request you the same hc but with much BIGGER boys, especially Doflamingo, Crocodile and Katakuri. Please feel free to add other big men bc I honestly can’t get enough of them.😭😭😭

Hi hi! So I feel really dumb because I accidentally deleted the request, but luckily, I had copied/pasted the text of my doc before. But sorry, anon D: Anyway, thank you so much for liking my work and for requesting! That was pretty fun to write. I decided to add King and the sweet Corazon. And before starting, please have a look at this, lol. Those guys are so BIG, help.

☆Doflamingo, Crocodile, Katakuri, King & Corazon with a s/o afraid of having sex

CW (generals) : smut, MDNI, v!sex, f!reader, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), size kink

WC : Oh my God, I got carried away... 4,3k. Enjoy. :D

⇢ You can read the part one here & the part three here

Doflamingo

CW : a lot of teasing, creative use of devil fruit, slight praise, slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, pet name

Doflamingo is, let's say, complicated. Of course, he considers you as a part of the Donquixote family, and he cares deeply about his close ones. But, on the flip side, he can't help but love when people are stressed or afraid because of him. It plays with his constant need for dominance. So first, he would grin, almost laugh, and be extremely pleased with himself. "My poor little bird is afraid… because of my size?" While running his fingers along the length of his cock through his pants. "I'll make it good for you, don't worry, just leave it to me."

Doflamingo craves dominance, so he would be more than satisfied with this situation, his eyes roaming over your body with eagerness. He's a really patient man and also loves to play and tease you all the time. "Lay down comfortably on the bed." He would say, placing his heavy, large hands on either side of your hips, slowly pushing you down on the mattress, his eyes shining with nothing but pure desire.

He loves how tiny your body looks when he's towering over you. It makes you look so vulnerable. Oh, sure, he loves when his s/o is smaller than him. Again, it plays with his constant need of domination. He finds it fascinating that he could destroy you with one hand. Luckily, you're his precious bird, so he would probably play with you and inflict some pain on you, but only what you're able and willing to take.

His hands would be surprisingly feather-light while running all over your body, tracing all of your curves, and fondling your breasts. Then, pinching your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and index, delighted by all of your shivering and sighs.

"Mh, you're so needy, y/n" with a low, teasing laugh as he slowly runs his fingers down your trembling thighs, tracing along the sensitive skin before slowly, really slowly reaching for your wet folds. He would smile, his eyes fixed on your pussy, fascinated by how needy you are already for him. But that's not enough. He is eager for more. "So pretty"

He would begin to tease you mercilessly, tracing soft patterns on your inner thighs and lower-belly. He likes to play with anticipation. He's not the kind of man who just roughly and mechanically slides his fingers inside you. Without teasing, there's no fun.

The more you squirm and moan, the more he's pleased, watching your pussy becoming more and more wet.

"So eager already." Purring close to your ears, making you shiver even more, leaving a trail of goosebumps along your spine. "What should I do now? What do you want y/n, my tongue or my fingers?"

You'll have both in the end, so don't worry.

It's clear that Doflamingo has mastered using his long tongue. And the same applies to his fingers always fidgeting when he uses his devil fruit. He's probably a master when it comes to fingering and oral sex. So he would slowly sink between your thighs, licking your soft skin before finally allowing you to feel his tongue against your sensitive folds, keeping your thighs open enough for him with his heavy hands.

You just can't help but arch your back as he eats you out, turning you into a whining and moaning mess. He would drink your juice as if it was a precious wine. "That's it", humming against your slit, licking your clit. Slowly, he would slide a thick finger inside of you. His mind would probably be a bit dizzy, thinking about how good he would feel with his cock inside of your tightness.

"You're so responsive, little bird," before adding another finger and hitting that sweet spot, still licking your clit.

And he won't stop until you cum all over his tongue and fingers. "Good girl"

With eyes darkened with desire, he would finally removing his pants, his heavy and extremely long cock springing free, leaking in pre-cum and twitching in anticipation. You can't help but look at his length, stressed. "Do you like looking at my big cock, little bird? Does it turn you on to know that I'm going to fuck you senseless?" So sure, he would grin again before lying on his back and letting you ride him.

He perfectly knows how to control himself so he won't just push roughly while you line your pussy with his cockhead, trying to brace yourself-up. You definitely want to do it, but you feel nervous. "Need some help, little bird?"

As you nod, he would use his devil fruit to guide you. With one broad hand wrapping around your waist and the other guiding the strings, he would slowly force your hips to move down, impaling you on his breathtaking thickness, his eyes sparkled with mischief. That's the moment you would see him lose his grin as he can't handle how tight and wet you feel all around him. "So tight…"

"You can take more?" As long as you tell him to keep going, he would continue to guide your hips down his length, groaning softly, with his hand fondling the flesh of your waist. "That's it, take it, take it all."

As you start to moan, he would say "What's up little bird, you love how well I am stretching you?"

And as you slowly get used to his cock stretching your walls, his cock throbbing inside you, Doflamingo would nicely use his strings to guide you moving up and down, delighted by the sloshing noises. The way your core swallows his length would be mind-blowing for him. The sight of your wetness covering his cock every time you move up and down is something he would love to see more often. Be prepared to entertain your king again.

Crocodile

CW : slight domination kink, praises, he's smoking because well it's Crocodile, oral sex (Crocodile receiving), slight hair pulling, using of his hook in a slight creative way but nothing extreme, belly bulge, unprotected sex

Another DILF and dominant man.

Crocodile is a silent man. So the second you tell him you're nervous because it's been a while since the last time you had sex and that you're also nervous because he's both long and thick, he would just raise an eyebrow. Just like Doflamingo, he would love the feeling of you being intimidated, because Crocodile definitely has a thing (and a kink) for dominance. He likes when you acknowledge his rank and qualities.

"You're afraid because of my size?"

He would lead your hand until you reached his cock. "If you're nervous, then you have to become familiar with it." So he would feel the girth and the veins, breathing deeply, delighted by the sight of your small hands trying to correctly wrap his thickness. "That's it, y/n. Touch it and get used to it. Soon, it will be all within you."

He would talk with his usual deep, raspy, and calm voice, the one that always sends shivers down your spine. And sure, he would act all dominant, smoking his cigar while you try so hard to satisfy him. Of course, he would look down at you. You are in his hands. So let go of all your intrusive thoughts and just focus on him. Only him.

"Suck it."

He would watch closely as you try to wrap your tongue around his cock, tracing all the veins, and licking hungrily all the pre-cum leaking from his cockhead. He would grab a hand from your hair with his heavy and broad hand, leading your head back and forth, while watching you drool and struggle to breathe all over his cock. He would slowly lose his composure, sighing huskily, unable to handle how cute you look with your mouth full of his cock, trying to figure out how to take more of his length. He would find the sight of his member glistening with your saliva to be quite entertaining.

"That's a good girl. Come get your rewards."

The moment he blows out his cigar and removes his rings, you know the real deal is about to start.

He would likely use his large hook, carefully running the sharpened tip along the soft skin of your stomach. Before slowly leaving a trail of kisses along your neck. Avoid running your hands through his hair and stay still like the good girl you are. Otherwise, he might punish you with a hard pinch on your nipple and a rough slap on your ass cheeks.

Slowly but surely, then, he would reach your inner thighs and then your pussy. He would eat you out with his hand holding your thighs apart. He would you lick your pussy in a classy way, not like a vulgar starving. He would be fond of all your moaning and incoherent mumbling as you can't handle how good it feels. "You won't cum until I say so." While circling your clit with his thumb, teasing you, drinking your juice. Your shivering and tremblings are both entertaining and satisfying. Crocodile rarely goes down on someone, but when he does… oh, it's quite mesmerizing.

"Stay still" if you start to squirm because of how good it feels.

And, once you're finally reduced to a whining mess, he would use his hook to grab one of your thighs, pushing them apart, spreading your legs wide enough to fit in between. "Spread your legs for me." He would put a pillow under your back while manhandling you. And then, again, he would use his hook to slightly raise your upper body, until your pussy is lined with his cock.

"Can you take it?"

He would enter you in one go as soon as you nodded. Not in a forceful way, but he doesn't see the point of taking a lot of breaks. Once his cock is buried deep inside you, he will soothe your trembling thighs by running his hand along your lower-stomach, feeling the bulge created by his cock. "Good girl. You're taking me so well." He would likely hold your legs tightly, trying to fight his own desire to fuck you roughly.

He's a patient man, so he'll wait until you're ready for him to start thrusting.

So deep and slow at the same time while he stretches you further, his cock throbbing and twitching. Not a grunter, but a pretty deep breath as you tighten around him. For this occasion, he will spare you from his usual roughness. But next time… you better be ready.

Katakuri

CW : The reader is smaller than him, but there's not a BIG size difference, food play, unprotected sex

"I know, love." Yes, he would speak before you even have time to express your fears. Blame it on his haki. Katakuri has a lot of sisters, so he would be well-aware of those kinds of thoughts. If you're nervous, he would take some time to ask why, making sure to fully understand the situation.

"I'll take care of you, everything will be alright." Despite his lack of words, you have faith in him. He's aware of the future, so if he says it's going to be fine, you can trust him and it's already really soothing.

The Sweet Commander is a gentleman and he's aware of size. He would never just slam into you, especially not if you're already afraid. Before even thinking of reaching for your pussy, he would start with a lot of soft kisses all along your neck, and then on your breasts, sucking on your nipples, pinching them nicely. He just loves your breasts. They feel soft under his palms. He could spend hours worshipping your chest. As you slowly arch your back, moaning softly, and relaxing under his touch, he would continue to kiss your stomach, honoring every inch of your body.

You're so beautiful. Despite his quietness, his eyes would be brimming with pride. Being intimate with such a beautiful woman like you fills him with pride. "You're doing great."

His voice would always be calm and deep, as usual. The control he has over himself is quite mesmerizing.

And well, Katakuri probably has a food play kink, so he would love to devour your body covered in cream. So intoxicating. Your body tastes amazing. The taste of sugar is also amazing. Both? Total heaven.

He would then sink his head between your thighs, eating you out like your pussy was one of his dearest donuts. He'd like nothing more than to please you, so feel free to guide him. Katakuri being both smart and observant, he would quickly learn all of your sweet spots, turning you into a whiny moan, begging for more.

If you don't tell him to stop, he could eat you out for hours. He can't help it; it feels so good and you taste so good. He would drink your juice, circling your clit with his thumb and wouldn't stop until you cum against his lips.

"So good."

He would take advantage of your wetness and dizzy mind from your orgasm to slowly push one thick and long finger inside you. It's so tight and warm that he would struggle to keep his calm composure. Especially because his haki showed him some really nice pictures of what's going to happen.

As long as you need him to continue, Katakuri would honestly just pamper you with kisses and caresses. He knows how big he's, so you have to tell him when you're ready to take him.

Katakuri would keep your thighs apart with an impatient hand, exposing your wet folds to his eyes. He would look hungrily. His cock twitching crazily in impatience, leaking in anticipation. "You're ready?"

He already knows the answer, but Katakuri is a gentleman and cares a lot about consent. It doesn't matter if his observation haki shows him everything in advance.

Katakuri would intertwine his fingers with yours before slowly easing his cock into you in one go. A slow, but steady one. And as he fills you up to the brim, he would lose his composure and sigh in relief. Your pussy feels like heaven around his cock. It's a perfect blend of tightness, warmth, heat, and wetness. "Y/N, you feel amazing."

He would adjust his pace to what you're capable of. If you need him to slow down, he will. And he would be more than happy to comply if you asked him to be rougher. He is here to satisfy you. And you will be satisfied. Reduced to a shivering, moaning mess. The way his fat cock slowly slides in and out and hits all your sweet spots is just too good. It's such a delight to see the big, stoic Katakuri looking his composure because of your body…

King

CW : The reader is smaller than him, but there's not a BIG size difference, kind of blindfold kink I guess (?), slight spanking, unprotected sex

Even with you, King doesn't like to show his face. He struggles with intimacy. Your confession would make him feel embarrassed. What is he supposed to do? He was about to fuck you without any further thought, but now he needs to take more consideration.

He would slap your thigh with a sigh. "Turn around."

While slowly lying on your stomach and complying, he would slowly remove his heavy mask, running a hand through his beautiful white hair. But you don't have the right to watch. The only thing you're allowed to do is imagine. You've already seen his face. So you close your eyes and imagine his beautiful, almost mesmerizing beauty in your mind: brown skin, white hair, and an expression that is both cold and determined.

He would make you feel. Feel his mouth licking and kissing your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Wet kisses. His hair would softly caress your skin as he devoured the back of your neck, his big hands roaming along your waist to keep you steady. "Stay still" he would always speak with his lips near your ear, enjoying all of your shivering.

And suddenly, he would yank your panties or just push them asides, eating you out from behind, spreading your thighs. "Get on your all fours," he would command, just to have a better view of your glistening folds, before sinking back between your legs. He would keep your cheeks spread and lap at your pussy, intoxicated by your moans, your taste, smell, and how you feel against his lips. You're arched for him, exposed, so beautiful.

Even if he eats you out, he would love to spank your ass every time you squirm, forcing you to stay still. "Don't move and let me eat you out." He can sense that you're tense. And he doesn't understand why because usually, he can slide into you with ease. But he would take his time, fingering you, rubbing your clit, turning you into an almost crying, whimpering mess.

He would obligingly ignore his cock, twitching and throbbing in anticipation, taking his time to work on your tightness, stroking your back. "Shh, it's alright, we'll take our time."

He would love to watch how beautiful you are, with your ass up and chest against the mattress, and your head buried in a pillow. What a stunning sight. The way your pussy is messing up on the bedsheets is quite stunning.

He would use the fact you're unable to see him to his advantage, teasing you, running his fingers along your slit, then rubbing his cockhead, mixing his pre-cum with your wetness. "Please…"

Please keep begging, it's a lullaby to his ears.

And finally, he would grab your hips firmly, filling you up to the hilt in one go, hitting your cervix. He would fight against his own desire to destroy you by digging into your soft flesh with his fingers. His strong grip would leave bruises on your skin tomorrow.

With his huge cock nestled deep inside you, almost splitting you in half, he would let out a shaky breath. So good. So intoxicating. As you lie down, at his mercy, the sight of his cock slowly thrusting in and out of your tight hole, all stretched out around his thickness... it's too much to handle. As he plows into you from behind, he would moan. His member, all glistening and shining, covered in your wetness, the way your ass is swallowing him...

He just can't.

His hands would be glued to your ass cheeks all the time. "You keep sucking me in, it won't let me go."

He would try his best to stay nice. Stretching you out slowly. Even with slow strokes, his size is so overwhelming that it drives you crazy. Holding onto the bedsheets, closing your eyes, all you're allowed to do is imagine his jaw tightly clenched and his muscular body looming over you.

"Does it feel good, Y/N?"

The instant you say yes and he feels you loose around his thickness, he will smash into you roughly, grunting loudly, slapping your ass, intoxicated by your you. And you alone.

Corazon

CW : Body worship, praises, face sitting, protected sex, wholesome, soft sex

To end on a sweet note, the lovely Rosinante.

Let's assume it's your first time ending up in the same bed. Rosinante is always kind to you, and you know he won't do anything to hurt you. But still, if you explain to him you're nervous because he's big and also because you're always a bit stressed when it comes to sex… then, Rosinante would just be even more sweet.

"Sweetie, we'll take it slow. You trust me?"

He would be both careful and nervous due to his goofiness. What if he just falls on you? What if he crushes you with his weight? What if... oh, no, he's thinking too much again, his hands twitching on your body.

"It's okay Rosi, I trust you."

As you ease him down, he would kiss every nook and cranny of your body: neck, collarbone, breasts, stomach, belly button,... leaving red lipstick streaks all over.

His large, heavy, and yet kind hands would hungrily roam your figure, your shoulders, learning each of your curves, scars, and every single part that makes you, you. He would make you love everything you hate about yourself, making you feel safe and loved.

His hands would be soft and heavenly as he fondled your breasts, mesmerized by how warm and soft they felt against his big palms. Well, he's still goofy, so he might accidentally pinch you or scratch your nipple, apologizing again and again with wet puppy eyes.

And slowly, his hands and mouth would continue to explore your skin, kissing your lower stomach, and slowly reaching for your damping wet panties. "So wet for me."

He's genuinely amazed. Rosinante would be in awe: does he attract you so much? He just wants to smile warmly at you.

He would accidentally rip your panties apart, and then apologizes again. Please, just laugh or reassure him. After all, his goofiness is adorable.

He would be incredibly sweet if you're a bit nervous about exposing yourself fully to him. "Sweetie, I swear you're mesmerizing. So perfect and beautiful, I want to love every inch of your skin". While slowly running his hands along your inner thighs. "It's alright, sweetie. Just open your legs for me. Can you do this for me?"

If you're still nervous, then Rosinante would lie down and allow you to sit on his face with your wet pussy pressed against his lips. Rosinante would love to eat you out while rubbing his hands along your back, ass, and thighs. Soft kisses on your clit, hungry tongue drinking your juice while it flows down on his chin.

He would gently massage your bottom while slowly sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue. Rosinante would just love to have your thighs squeezing his cheeks. Move, all you want against his tongue, all he wants is to satisfy you and soothe all of your worries. His focus will only be on you, regardless of how hard his cock is.

He would slowly slide a thick finger inside you, curling it nicely to hit that sweet spot, making sure you're ready and aware of what's happening. The way you moan his name and use his mouth as you please is mesmerizing.

With two fingers gently stretching out, Rosinante would continue to worship your body with his hands and tongue. He's probably trying to hide his coughs because he's suffocating with his face stuck between your thighs. But who cares. The way you taste is like heaven.

If you want to cum, he would allow you to cum against his lips. If you want to stop before reaching ecstasy, that's okay too.

"I'm ready for you, Rosi."

Totally flushed and nervous, Rosi would let you ride him. He's too stressed by his goofiness, so it's better if you take the lead. And at least, you can control the rhythm and depth.

Rosinante would definitely use a condom. But, he would struggle to open the packaging and then roll the protection over his length due to his nervousness, excitement, and goofiness. His big, shaking hands would likely cause him to split one or two condoms. Please, help this poor boy.

The shows continue with the lube. It's likely that he would let the bottle to fall, spilling all of the liquid onto both your belly and his hands. "I'm so sorry, sweetie!" And he would stupidly try to steal some lube from your stomach to smear it over his length. You can't help but laugh warmly, caressing his hair. "It's okay Rosi, relax."

His heart melts as you straddle him, his length twitching and leaking wildly. He's big, both in length and girth, and he's aware of it. He would allow you to take all of your time to prepare yourself. The way he looks at you tells how much he cares about you and how honored he feels to have you by his side.

"Whenever you want, Y/N" with his deep, soothing and soft voice.

As he feels your tight entrance against his cockhead, he would bite his lips, grabbing the bedsheets tightly. Because he would never dare hold you roughly and leave bruises on your body. When he sees that you're still a bit nervous, he would sit up while you're still straddling him. He would slowly raise your hips before easing his cock inside you. Pushing gently, each inch, slowly yet steadily. "Shh, it's okay, I've got you, you're taking me so well. You're so perfect for me."

He would hold you tightly as you sit down on his lap, your breasts pressed against his chest. "It's okay sweetie, you're doing great, it's okay, almost there, just a little more, you feel so good around me." With his hands squeezing your hips to keep you still.

His entire body would be shaking. The sensations are overwhelming for both of you. You're so tight, so wet, and his huge cock is stretching you so nicely, throbbing inside you.

He would soothe your back gently as he finally penetrates you fully, his large size stretching you out even further. "There it's over. Look at you, taking all of my cock so well. You're such a brave girl. "

He would slowly guide your hips up and down, unable to handle how good it feels. " I've got you, let me take care of you."

A lot of kisses, soft, heavenly touches, his breath deep against your breath as he continues to slide gently yet firmly inside you. He would praise you all the time, worshiping your body. A bit goofy from time to time, loweering you to roughly down his cock, scratching you or biting your lips instead of kissing you softly.

But a really, really sweet moment, and a lot of cuddles during the aftercare.

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lenaellsi · 8 months ago

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if you take "I can make a difference" at face value you simply must also consider "you're the bad guys.” like they are both vital aspects of aziraphale's decision. the problem is not just aziraphale's attempt to lead a corrupt system, it is also his continued belief in the superiority of heaven and angels over hell and demons. that's why crowley was so hurt. it's not just a miscommunication, or a disagreement on the practicalities of changing hearts and minds in heaven--it is a fundamental misunderstanding of morality and of crowley as a person. if crowley had asked aziraphale to come to hell to help fix it and protect the earth, he would not have gone. he says so. it’s not just about safety, or reform. it is about being Good.

and all of this happens because aziraphale is not just motivated by fear and love: he is also motivated by shame. he is insecure in his identity as an angel and a Good Guy, and both his alienation from heaven and his relationship with crowley have always aggravated this insecurity. it’s why shax’s mockery hit him so hard, and why he’s so susceptible to manipulation from the metatron. he desperately wants to be taken seriously and treated with respect and to have power and be an uncomplicated Good Guy, and that is just as much of a motivating factor in his decision as his desire to protect humanity and crowley.

and re: “appoint you to be an angel”: I know people want to insist that aziraphale has never wanted to change anything about crowley, but I’m sorry, I just don’t think that’s true. over and over in season 2 aziraphale demonstrates a desire to sand the rough edges off people and things for the sake of the Greater Good, without consideration for the free will or complex emotions of others. obviously this tendency culminates in the ball, where he exerts control over all of the humans to make everything perfect for maggie and nina, and in doing so, infringes on their autonomy and nina’s (crowley’s narrative mirror!) capacity to feel her own anger and sadness. and he has never liked that crowley is a demon. in his mind, the problem has always been that crowley was put in the wrong category, not that the entire system of dividing people and angels into Good and Bad is ridiculous. that’s the exact lesson he needs to learn.

and yes, his intentions are good, absolutely. I don’t think aziraphale ever acts out of malice, and I do think he genuinely wants the best for the people around him, particularly crowley. after all, if crowley is accepted as an angel again, as aziraphale has always secretly considered him to be, their relationship can (in his mind) finally stop being so fraught with danger and conflict. (the other side of that, of course, is that aziraphale can also stop being so ashamed for loving someone who is supposed to be Bad, and everything in his life will make sense again, the way it hasn’t since he met that star maker who got so upset about god’s plan.)

but that’s not who crowley is, and it never has been. even before he fell, crowley’s recklessness and relentless questions made aziraphale uncomfortable. their relationship has never been safe or easy, and in wanting to make it so, aziraphale is demonstrating a desire to change the parts of crowley that led to his fall, whether he intends to or not.

I’m rambling, but the point is: the insistence on reframing this moment as a purely selfless, calculated, self-sacrificing decision by aziraphale to protect crowley and the world ignores the uglier parts of the things he said in order to make their eventual reconciliation less complicated, and it’s really frustrating to me. crowley is in fact right to be upset by what he said, and it’s not just a misunderstanding that can be fixed with aziraphale saying “I was only trying to protect you!” and another kiss. it’s a culmination of all of the double think aziraphale has been doing in order to preserve his vision of heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good since before the beginning of time, and it’s time for him to finally unpack it.

(and because every post on the final fifteen needs a disclaimer: aziraphale is trying his best and has an incredible amount of love in his heart and wants so badly to do good and ALSO the things he says, does, and believes can be incredibly hurtful and destructive. all of these things can be true.)

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #final fifteen #good omens meta #good omens 2 #long post

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mehiwilldoitlater · 1 month ago

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remember that ask about yuán fèn being able to communicate with sun wukong's spirit, well how bout' u mix it with ur last sad fic and make the reader a reincarnation of that guy's dead wife, not that i also see him giving yuán fèn advice on his relationship and look at them and realize they look at each other the same way he and her past self did

Yuán Fèn never liked to be jealous. He hated it, finding that emotion despicable.

But it was always natural to him, feeling the urge to hide you from every possible suitor's eyes, even now that you were completely and utterly his own. You loved him, and he loved you, that was all.

But he had instincts, and it's complicated to control them or satisfy them when the one that causes this emotion is a spirit that lives in his head.

When did Wukong start to look at you in that way? When did it happen? When he merged with him? When you both vowed each other your loves? Or it was something that had grown with time?

Despite his desire to attack something that was more in his head than outside of it, he had noticed that the looks on the sage's face weren't of desire or longing; they were pityful looks, like those of someone who is regretting something.

A few times I wanted to approach the subject to understand his strange new obsession with observing you, but it was always not the right time or just an avoided matter like many others. His eyes looked at you like some old man that observed the sky that changed towards time, and he wanted to know why.

Like every time he found him there, in the side of his eyes, looking at you. He was sitting on the wooden porch of your new shared house; the sunset colored the sky like the day that he had fought his shell in his mind. You were there, in the distance, playing some games with a few of the small monkeys, laughing and trying to catch them. On the sage face, a small smile.

"I know you're in my head, but I would appreciate it if you could stop staring at her."

He waited for a response from the former king, only to meet silence. He sighed, explaining why he was so difficult. He followed him to his spot on the porch, looking at you falling in the grass while a small monkey had climbed on your chest.

"At least you could tell me the reason?"

"The smile is the same."

Yuán Fèn looked at him confused. He expected everything—some remarks, a stupoid joke—instead he was talking like that now.

"...Same?"

"Yes, the same... I wonder... but if it's true, or the karma it's an amazing thing, or It just love to play dirty games."

"Oh, please!" he burst out, passing a hand on his head. "Spill it out! Tell me and let's get it over it!"

A frown appears on Wukong's face. That was hard to face for many reasons: restment, some shame, some desire to Just don't think about it. But mostly, it was the fact that it was all his doing and it was hard to digest.

"You remember my wife, Kid?"

"The untold story, yes, what about it?"

"And you know how cycles and reincarnation work, right?"

Yuán Fèn looked at him, trying to connect. Once it was done, his surprised expression turned into a sad one.

"But... she came from another world... she can't possibly..."

"That made it worst... She wasn't made to come here, but something still brought her back here, to you...and to me."

"Sadly," he continued, with a grin that showed all of his pointing teeth. "I won't be the one enjoying her! Good for you, guess."

The younger monkey wanted to make a comment about the comment but found himself uncapable to even do that. He felt just a sense of sadness and cruelty in these big schemes.

Once, they were lovers. Now he was just a projection of his mind, and you didn't even know. Was she still asleep? Maybe she just didn't want to see him... Was she still angry or in pain for being put second to the monk? Tò face death for his plan?

He pondered a little... and then he went to talk with you.

///

"Are you sure about it?"

"Yes."

"You're trembling..." His hand caressed your cheek, trying to bring comfort to your unspoken fear.

"I just... I don't want anything to happen to you. And... well, I'm going to talk to him... it's just really a big thing for me."

He knew it was crazy, but something. He talked to Wukong, asking him about it, and he just stayed there, watching buffled about it. He made the Great Sage buffled... That's new...

"I know, it's crazy... But...he would make him happy, I think."

"Well, if it's a way for him to stop his midnight talk with you, then okay! Let's do it! and I watched the Exorcist! So I know what to do in the worst scenario!"

He laughed about it; he really didn't want to know what your plan was in case the thing didn't work.

But he loved you, and he knew that he would let anything happen to you, not even by his own hand...possessed hand.

He took a big breath, closed his eyes, and stratified to concentrate. He needed to clean his mind from every doubt, emotion, and thought—he needed to make space.

A wave reached to him, and he felt like he was going underwater. There was no right, left, up or down, only the void. This is where Wukong belonged, and now... he needed to take his place.

When Yuán Fèn opened his eyes back, you knew that what was in front of you wasn't him. His warm eyes were so fiery that they could set you whole on fire; his kind expression now was stoic, fuelled with an ancient power that could have crushed you any time.

So that was the feeling when you were in front of Sun Wukong.

You tried to look as normal as you could while those two golden and blood-red eyes kept on studying you, but you only felt the urge to run and hide, to call back Yuán Fèn and call you out...but you couldn't, because you too knew that it was important.

"Ehm..." you cleared your voice. "G-great sage? ...Mister SWukong?...whoever lives in my fiancè head? I'm... well, I guess you know me."

His hands grasped you by your shoulder; he held you mid-air, analyzing you with a new look. He was scared; he was shocked. He was speechless. And you were scared—so fucking scared.

"Hold on, hold on, calm down, mister Sage. I don't think it's-"

Before you could really call for Yuán Fèn, you could feel his arms around you, holding you with desperation, like you could disappear. His hands trembled, holding your dress to the point that you thought that he wanted to rip it off. His chest trembled so much... and his hot tears were falling on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, my love! It's all my fault!"

His loud cry, his hiccups, his moan of pain—this pain—this was Wukong pain. After so many years...

"You were right; you were always right! I was mistaken! I just wanted the world to see that we were important and that you were important! But... but I dragged you down. I should have protected you, listened to you, and failed as a husband."

He cried louder, harder, collapsing on his knee and bringing you down with him. So it was true...he wnated justice for himself and his wife, just like the book said...

"My precious one, my only light, my one treasure! I ruined every chance; I ruined you! IO wanted to have our life back, and instead I... lost you again! Please! Plase, I'm sorry!"

You didn't know what to do or what to say—he was desperate. There was no word you could say to a pain that was there, lingering and fermenting for this long. You were afraid to touch him even. You prayed to have at least one idea, one suggestion!

Maybe someone responded... or just gave you the right words to say.

"My beloved..." His eyes widened; your pained expression was so soft in his eyes for his pain and desperation. "There's nothing to apologize...not anymore. We had given the miracle to be found by each other, and I'm grateful for that. I had always loved you, and forever I will."

Your hand gently caressed his pained expression, caressing away those fat tears. His hand stopped you from leaving his face, holding like trying to melt in you.

"Forgive me."

"I forgive you."

"I was so lost..."

"Now we're found."

And when he hugged you, you felt like a weight on your shoulder, like someone pulling him closer.

///

When he woke up, his face just hurt. He couldn't open his eyes without the need to wash them, and he felt like he needed to drink an entire lake. His head on your legs, your hand caressing his hair.

"...What happened?"

"You passed out after crying for hours."

"That explains why I feel my eyes hurt."

You hummed; keep on caressing his features, now more relaxed than ever. He took your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles. Somehow, this scene seemed nostalgic, like you saw it before...maybe in another life.

Despite the curious thing, you fell into bliss and were at peace with yourself.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan @lightlumi

@cleverfeststarlight @anfie01 @tunadunanana @jeminiikrystal @jssy96

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adventures-in-mangaland · 2 months ago

Text

Yet Another Dead Boy Detective Fic Rec List

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I've been having so much fun with these, so I've decided to make another! See above for links to my other fic rec lists. ♥️

Like We're Gonna Die Young (Again) by RoseGanymede95

The latest installment in the superb Codependency World Cup series has the boys attend a nefarious house party and grapple with old frenemies, 90s fashion and temporary amnesia. Also fleshes out their achingly sad backstories, but compensates with the triumphant return of Pierre the rabbit.

When I Picture You by Gruoch

Charles gets braceleted by the Cat King instead of Edwin and receives his heart's desire... being alive again. This author has a special gift for taking fun sounding premises and turning the angst up to 11. So excellent.

young blood (never get chained) by ghostinthelibrary

University AU in which half-demon Charles intervenes in Edwin's ritual sacrifice and inadvertently binds their souls together... I'm genuinely obsessed with this AU, it has so much potential for tons of delicious tropes. Human!Edwin getting a crash course in supernatural shenanigans! Soulmate vibes!Found Family! Demon lore! What's not to love??

Ghosts and Monsters by justafandomfollower

Charles is also sacrificed and the boys meet in Hell! Fantastic premise and executed really well. I loved Masterful Edwin taking charge and protecting Charles while inwardly despairing. Highly recommended.

back to back they faced each other by ShanaStoryteller

The Night Nurse has a theory about how Charles was able to rescue Edwin from Hell so quickly... I'm genuinely shocked I haven't recced this one already. Sorry guys, I forgor. Anyway, this has interesting "Guardian" (angel?) lore, great meta and we even get some temporary amnesia as a treat.

boyfriend jacket by skadii

5+1 times Edwin borrowed Charles' jacket. The characterisation is on point, and it has some great OCs (Kyle the snarky seeing-eye cat!) and really sweet payneland moments. Plus Charles' jacket doing its most to annoy the Cat King.

Looking Like the Sunrise by letters_of_stars

Edwin thinks he's cursed so he and Crystal must team up to solve the case of his Mysterious and Suddenly Appearing Rizz. Funny and sweet friendship fic with some quality Edwin-Crystal bonding and discussions of trauma.

The Case of the Anonymous Confession by Mayarenerose

College AU featuring Charles posting an 'anonymous' online confession about his complicated feelings for his bestie. The closet is glass, but Edwin is oblivious and Crystal is in pain. Cute and funny epistolary social media fic done really well.

the middle of something wonderful by KiaraSayre

Does what it says on the tin and gives us a trope salad of cosy vignettes, including a time loop, temporary amnesia, sudden corporality and Crystal and Edwin trying to get a good grade in Party. Wholesome.

My heart is like a haunted house (series) by halffulljampot

Charles (unknowingly) befriends the ghost of Edwin's mother and constantly gushes to her about his amazing best friend/boyfriend. Beatrice is a great OC and it's just nice (though extra tragic) to read a fic in which Edwin had loving parents. Read it for Family Feels and wholesome intergenerational friendship.

the first rule of fight club by e_va

The boys are captured by an evil underground fighting ring. The fic is from Charles' PoV, so the prospect of having to fight Edwin was especially stomach-churning. Still, we get Edwin being a badass and a brilliant surprise cameo I don't want to spoil.

The Case of The... by sophisticatedyet

Edwin borrows Niko's negligee and Charles' brain breaks. There's also a case and giant squids, but Charles' Distracted By The Sexy crisis is the main (hilarious) event.

in those heavy days when love became an act of defiance by aletterinthenameofsanity, JUBE514

Daemon AU and first meeting fic! Loved the worldbuilding, insightful character work and lovely use of Greek mythology. Honestly, this fandom needs more daemon AUs.

spinning around and around in an ocean of grief (your ladder came down to the sea) by Ingi

Prequel to DontOffendTheBees' excellent College AU, expanding on the boys being alive and in school together. Also has its own prequel about their first meeting from Edwin's point of view. This one, though, is a Charles' Bisexual Journey/Feelings Realization fic. So lovely.

head in the clouds but my gravity's centered by shadowquill17

Face Touching: The Fic. I just love non-sexual intimacy in fics and this one is so tender. I also love Accidental Kissing and Feelings Realization so my cup runneth over.

i don't want to rest in peace by handwrittenhello

Different First Meeting fic featuring Poltergeist Charles! Loved the concept, even though it made me sad.

the great snogging debacle of '95 by thatgayprince

Edwin disguises himself as a girl and Charles starts and then defers a sexuality crisis for 30 years. Funny, steamy and emotional.

a beautiful day to say goodbye by ofstitches

The agency take on the case of a depressed house. This is another bittersweet Edwin backstory fic with discussions of grief.

Smitten in the Stacks by cordelianoir

Adorable prequel to lolotr's equally adorable library AU. Meet cute featuring (platonically married) Dad!Charles crushing on the hot librarian who leads Children's Storytime.

Jenny Green: Butcher, Hot Mess, Reluctant Queer Elder by Money_Maker

Jenny-centric fic! The focus is on Jenny and her financial, mental and emotional struggles post-canon, but mentoring Edwin through his queer self-discovery becomes a big part of that. This turns into a really sweet friendship, plus Found Family Feels and some fun outsider PoV of the boys' dynamic.

I've always got more recs so watch this space! ❤️

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obey-me-disaster · 1 year ago

Note

Hey there! How’s it going? If I may, can I request some headcaons on the obey me brothers trying to seduce MC? Please and thank you!

These guys have to literally take a 'seductive speechcraft' class at RAD, in theory they should be good at seducing, in practice not so much

Warning: slightly NSFW

Obey me brothers trying to seduce MC

Lucifer

He keeps it simple. He doesn't see the point of doing complicated mind games when he knows that MC will choose him. That's not to say he won't try to win MC over or make them feel special.

Between Lucifer encouraging MC to be bolder when it comes to their advances and his confidence there isn't anything that could go wrong, in his mind at least.

He is often assertive in a way that would make MC feel like being swooped off their feet while still leaving room for them to refuse. He will make sure they know he will take care of all of their desires.

He often invites them over, either to his study room or the music room to spend some time alone together where he can be more forward.

Mammon

Mammon is really smooth when it comes to flirting and seducing, just not when it comes to MC.

He is too caught up between being a tsundure and just being genuinely worried about making them uncomfortable by being too forward. Still, after a while he will get over some of his worries, he is MC's first man after all!

He is one of the most sought after models in the entire Devildom, he knows how to use his looks in his favour and how to get people's attention, especially MC's.

With how much time he spends with them, Mammon knows how to make MC feel like they are the only person that matters to him and to make them think about only him.

That also includes what words to say and in what way too touch them. Still, he always leaves it up to MC to decide if they want to take it further. He will let them take control so they could go at their own pace.

Leviathan

Tries to think of it like MC is a love interest in a video game, otherwise he would never be able to do it.

Tries to kabedon MC and it works at first, until he realizes how close the two of them are and panics.

Depending on the MC, his cringefail personality and being borderline pathetic and endearing at the same time would probably do the trick and seduce them imeanitworkedonme

Still, he has his moments where he can be more dominant! Especially if it would be in a virtual world, where he is more in his element. Sure, he would still be nervous but he would actually manage to flirt with MC.

To add to the previous point, he actually did that in a devilgram, where he lowered one of the sits in the car and told MC he could be in charge too.

Also I am sure he has at least 3 slutty cosplays. All he needs is a little bit of courage and he could use them.

Satan

A really by the book approach, the type of thing you would see in books. He has a lot of connections but most of them were not made by seducing other demons.

His attempts would be a bit awkward at first, feeling a little bit too stiff, but after observing to what MC responds the best he will start to get better at it.

Does MC respond better to words? Well he doesn't have high grades in seductive speechcraft for nothing. He knows how to get MC wrapped around his finger. Starting from innocent remarks to comments that would leave MC's imagination run wild.

Do they like physical touches more? He may be a little bit more awkward but nothing that MC would notice.

He is probably experimenting with new feelings too, cause seducing MC, someone he actually fell for, is way more different than his normal seductive speechcraft.

Asmodeus

Literally the best, that's his whole thing. Sure he has his eyes to help him, but he has been a lust demon for a long time, he knows how to seduce someone without magic. And like Mammon, he knows how to use his body to get other people's attention towards him and his body.

Has the best combination of lingering touches that just leave you wanting for more and of words the can be left up for interpretation, really making MC think that they want Asmo even without all the seduction.

He knows just from looking at MC's slightest change of reactions when to stop or when to push forward. He knows how far he can go with exploring their body without ruining the sexual tension. He would get them so riled up that MC would be the one initiating anything. In his mind he is just giving them a little push.

He also loves to tease them throughout the day only to disappear, leaving them wanting for more. He doesn't need to even see to know that he is all they can think about.

Beelzebub

I will be sincere, I don't think he really knows how to seduce people in the traditional sense. He would probably seduce MC by accident.

He would just call them in order to record his workout routine and when MC would get there he would be shirtless and sweaty, and they would have to sit behind a camera filming a shirtless Beel literally flexing his muscle

He would also lick food right off MC if they happened to drop some on themself. He literally licked wiped cream off MC's fingers in season 2.

He does all of these things by accident, and while he may be oblivious and not the best at seducing he isn't dumb. He will see how MC reacts and will start doing these things more often.

He would probably make them help him with his workout so MC could really get close to him to see and touch his muscles. post work out sex I am just saying

Belphegor

He really takes advantage off all the time cuddling with MC to see how far he can go when it comes to touching them, while still making sure they are comfortable.

It starts either with a hug from behind when MC is doing something else or with simple cuddles. His hands will start to wonder just slightly under their shirt or just barely over their thighs all while trying too see their reaction.

Everything he would say would be done so either with his face in the crook of their neck or as a whisper near MC's ear. It probably just be normal stuff at first, but the more he sees MC get into it the more he will start going about what he would actually want to do with them.

It's a really slow process but the little shit knows how to use his words and from what started as innocent cuddles it leads to MC doing nearly whatever he wants.

I also feel like he would go into their dreams and try to seduce them there too. This would led to MC having to seek Belphie out once they wake up from that dream.

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whateverloomis · 5 months ago

Note

I just came up with a good idea for a prompt. So basically #5 on the list but maybe make it a vampire AU?

Essentially everything’s the same with Billy and Stu but the only difference is they are both vampires. Like a vampire Ghostface 👀

And only because I enjoy it, extra bloody 🩸

Anon, this idea is crazy and I absolutely love it. Buckle up because this one is a wild ride 😈

Prompt: "Is that... Blood?"

Warnings: Reader has pre-determined clothing, reader has pre-determined desires and likings, AFAB reader, SMUT, period sex, BLOOD, and lot's of it, lot's of juicy plot, teasing, vampire bites, infidelity, making out, some Stully action, unedited. If I missed anything else lmk!

Reader: They/them pronouns (highlighted in bold,) AFAB

Word count: 5k (I went insane with this one, okay?)

It was bad enough with Casey Becker and Steve Orth getting murdered, now there's reports of people disappearing and found dead, bitten in multiple parts of their bodies and completely drained.

The police says that the bite marks weren't big enough to fit the description of maybe a bear or wolf. Neither of those animals drain the blood out of their pray either, which automatically discards them from the suspected killer creature. The case was more complicated than it sounded. It wasn't as simple as to pin it on a random animal and call it a day, those were serious murders and the amount of people that were disappearing from Woodsboro was alarming.

Some people started speculating and coming up with crazy theories. Sending in reports with the descriptions of some kind of a specific white mask that looked like a ghost, but it was decorated with fangs in it's mouth. There were also reports of two individuals spotted running around fields at unnatural speeds.

It was easy to come up with those kinds of things. People were desperate for an answer. Losing a loved one and knowing that others were at risk was terrifying. It was understandable, but complete insanity at the same time. The town seemed to be going collectively crazy.

"What if there are vampires out there... It sounds crazy but there have been reports of very similar cases in many other places outside of Woodsboro." Tatum questioned, that time around sounding more serious than previous. Randy scoffed at her comment and stood up. It looked like he was going to tell a speech or something.

"Listen, this started off as a typical slasher movie and now we're mixing Dracula with it? C'mon guys! It doesn't make sense! It's like believing aliens exist or something-" - "Aliens do exist man, I saw a UFO once. It was insane." Stu added and Randy looked at him in disbelief of his stupidity level. "This isn't a game, Stu. I bet you were high as fuck when you saw it." - "Correction, I was drunk, therefore no hallucinating was involved. It was definitely a UFO." Stu said, 100% convinced.

"I believe you, Stu." you answered and Stu pointed at you. "Hah, see?!" Stu said excitedly and you laughed softly, clearly leading the boy on to mess with Randy.

"YN, you're not helping my case here." Randy said and you shrugged, rolling your eyes playfully. "Listen, going back to the main topic here. These murders are definitely strange. Bite marks? And they don't even seem like it was an animal that made them? Something's off." You said, "Plus it'd be kinda hot to have vamps running around." you continued. "I second that." Tatum said with a smirk on her face.

Billy and Stu looked at each other, devious smiles on their faces that only you saw. Billy quickly shot a glare at you and you looked away, sudden goosbumps taking over your body.

"You're insane. If you guys want to be delusional and believe that nonsense go ahead, but there's a logical explanation to this. I just need more time to figure it out." Randy said and Billy sighed, annoyed at the boys rambling. "That's nice and all, but I have a class to attend." - "Billy, you're like 15 minutes late." Sidney said, slightly concerned at his carelessness. He looked at her and gave her a quick kiss, reassuring her that it's not a big deal.

You felt a pang of jealousy at the sight.

Billy's a player. He had been cheating on Sidney for months with you and he even told you that he didn't have feelings for Sidney anymore. He admitted that he was developing feelings for you and you were definitely falling for him too, but it was complicated. Billy kept telling you he couldn't break it off with Sid because she was hurt and vulnerable because of her mother's death. That he needed to find the right time, but it was starting to affect you emotionally. The pain was overwhelming at times and Billy had promised you he wouldn't display any form of affection towards Sidney in front of you. That promise was broken. He walked past you and gave you a loving stare. Despite the hurt you couldn't help but feel the overwhelming love that radiated from him.

Then there was Stu. You also had a relationship with him behind Tatum's back. She had dated your ex for a while after he cheated on you and broke your heart, so you hooked up with Stu as revenge, but things escalated and even if the feelings weren't nearly as strong as they were for Billy there was definitely something developing.

All three of you knew about each other and it had slowly become a triangle. It was a complicated mess, but it was yours and you didn't plan on breaking it off any time soon.

The boys didn't display any kind of behavior that revealed their truth. That revealed that they were vampires. They had been feeding non-stop, (hence the multiple murders,) to keep themselves calm and collected around you. It was very difficult at times, though. You smelled so sweet and they had been tempted multiple times to taste you. Relish in your sweet blood and make you theirs forever. It consumed them at times, but they couldn't ruin your life like that. Having eternal life wasn't a choice for both of them and it was difficult at times to process that reality. They didn't want to do anything to hurt you, yet they needed you. It was painful. It was torture.

•

"He broke a promise Stu, a promise is a promise." you explained as the boy listened carefully. As you spoke about how hurt you were about Billy kissing Sidney in front of you, Stu was trying to figure out how to comfort you without exposing his and Billy's plan about killing Sidney Prescott, and much less them being vampires.

"I understand that you're upset baby but you know he'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you. He loves you, YN." - "I just don't understand why he can't break it off with Sidney already. They're nothing at this point." You replied instantly and Stu sighed, seeming defeated. "It's a complicated subject YN, you know this. I can't speak for Billy, but I can guarantee that he's handling this the right way. The kiss was clearly to calm her down and not have her after his ass bitching about being 15 minutes late to class. You know how it is, hm?" He said as he scanned your face. You looked at his blue eyes and couldn't help but get lost in them. It was as if there was some kind of force convincing you that you were overreacting. That you needed to be patient, even if you had been feeling it decrease rapidly.

"You're right." The words slipped right out of your mouth, almost as if you didn't even think about saying them. You just spoke. "I know he wouldn't hurt me on purpose I just..." You stopped yourself. You felt greediness consume you. Felt selfish about what you wanted to admit to your boyfriend, but you needed to let it out. "C'mon babe, you can talk to me." Stu said, his voice soft despite his usual goofy nature. "I just want him to myself already. Sidney doesn't deserve him, all she does is bitch at him over her mother and think about herself. I think about him. Care about him. About you. About us." You said and tried your hardest to keep the tears from falling out of your eyes. You hated how vulnerable you were at the moment, but you also knew Stu was there for you. He loved you even if you had a completely different relationship with him.

Stu let out a breathy laugh and cupped your face. He gave you a lingering kiss and ran his hand down your arm soothingly. "You have us, YN. Stop worrying so much. Everything will fall in place sooner than you think." He reassured and you smiled at him softly. Despite him being an ass and goof ball, Stu was easy to talk to and so magnetic. You couldn't get enough of him. "Now c'mon, let's go meet up with Randy and Tatum, we don't want them thinking we were making out or something." He said suggestively, a smirk adorning his face. You rolled your eyes playfully and smacked his arm, "Later, I'm still sad." - "Ugh, fine." Stu replied and walked away with you, spanking your ass along the way.

•

After having an impromptu hang out at the mall with Stu, Tatum and Randy that day, you felt a bit better about the incident with Billy. It was only a temporary fix that lasted until you got to your dorm though.

After a few hours of trying to distract yourself with assignments and reading, your emotions started to consume you once more. You sat on your bed with a few movie tapes in your hands to choose from, and of course they were horror movies. They provided a strange sense of comfort and also reminded you of Billy and all those nights you watched scary movies those first few days of your relationship, ending up tangled between the sheets. You couldn't get enough of each other.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize Billy was knocking on your window. You looked at him in surprise and set the tapes down on your dresser before opening the window for him.

"Hey." He whispered before letting himself in. You closed the window and shut the curtains before turning around to face him. "What are you doing here?" You asked firmly and Billy gave you a confused look. "What am I... What's wrong?" He asked, immediately sensing that you were upset. "You know what's wrong." You said and walked past him. Billy followed you with his eyes, your delicious scent hitting his nose immediately. You were fertil and he knew it was going to be difficult to pay attention to your words, but he had to try. For you. For your relationship. "I don't, can you explain what happened? Please?" He asked, fully attentive. You sat on the edge of the bed and he followed your actions, sitting next to you. His thigh touched yours and he was searching for your eyes desperately.

"You kissed Sidney in front of me today." You explained and looked at him seriously. Billy widened his eyes, concern written all over his face. "Fuck... Baby, I'm. I didn't realize, I wasn't thinking ab-" - "Yeah, exactly. That's the problem. You weren't thinking about it." You interrupted and stood up, facing him. "Do you even care about the things that I say to you? It was a simple request. You said it wouldn't be complicated yet you-" You stopped yourself, exhaling to try and calm yourself. Your heart rate was accelerating and Billy could hear the blood pumping in your veins. His pupils dilated slightly at the realization but he couldn't let himself act on any urges. He had to stay focused. "YN, please. You're the only person I care about. Your words are the only ones that matter to me-" - "Well you sure aren't acting like it, Loomis. It sure seemed like you wanted to kiss h-" - "Don't go there." Billy interrupted, sudden anger taking over him. "I love you and only you. I only want you. I just have to keep Sidney in the loop a bit longer, and I didn't want her on my case s-" - "So you used it as a distraction. Yeah, Stu explained it to me." You finished his sentence and he bit his lip in thought. "You went to Stu about this?" He asked, you couldn't detect any emotions coming from him along with the question. "Yes. I was upset and angry. I didn't want to talk to you because I knew I'd end up arguing, which would've made this whole situation worse." Billy nodded and stood up, towering over you. "I'm sorry baby, it won't happen again." He said softly and placed his hand on your cheek. "You have every right to be mad, and if you need space I understand completely, just tell me what you need, okay? I can't stand knowing that you're mad at me." he continued and placed his hand on your neck, running his thumb over your pulse point. He felt the throb of your vein and closed his eyes to contain himself before moving his hand down your arm. "I don't need space, Billy. I need you to keep your promises. I need you to show me that you really care." You said and he exhaled softly. "I do care," the boy paused and sat down on the edge of your bed again, pulling you towards him. "And i'll make it up to you, okay?" He continued and pulled you, sitting you on his lap. "I'll even go to Stu's stupid party tomorrow, and when everyone leaves it'll be just us three, nobody else." Billy finished and kissed your nose. You couldn't help but smile and kiss his lips softly. It had been a while since the three of you spent time together with nobody else around. You missed it. Missed them. "Okay, deal." You whispered before kissing him again, prolonging it.

Billy felt like he was gonna go insane with you on his lap, kissing him like you were. You tasted so sweet on his tongue, your touch felt electric and he swore that he could've came just by you grinding against his hard cock. He had to feed or else he was going to hurt you.

As much as he wanted to fuck you and devour you, Billy had to control himself. He came up with a cheap excuse to leave your room that night and fed on one of the girls from your dorm. The poor woman was walking towards the building alone, and Billy launched at her. He practically dragged her to the back of the building and pinned her against the wall, brutally biting her neck with his sharp K9s, drinking her dry in a matter of minutes. The last thing she saw was a white ghost face mask with fangs before he left her there. Another corpse to be found the next day that was sure to create more drama in the news.

•

"Samantha?! I literally saw her that night before she left to the drive in." You told Tatum who broke the news about another one of the many bodies that were found drained that weekend. You remembered that Billy left at around the same hour the incident happened. You thought maybe he had seen something. That he could provide some useful information so you met Billy at the benches behind the college campus, which was very secluded and gave him a soft smile when you saw him walking towards you. "Hey." You said, your tone soft and sweet. Billy smirked at you and placed his hand on your hip, "Hey baby." he greeted and kissed you tenderly. "Did you hear about Samantha?" You asked him, worry coating your words. Billy visibly stiffed but kept his cool with his facial expressions. "No, what happened?" He asked, expertly pretending that he was clueless. "She got killed the same day you came over to talk... I was just wondering if you saw something when you left. We weren't friends or anything but... Billy, I'm kinda scared." You admitted and he frowned, pulling you into a comforting hug. If only you knew he was trying to keep you safe. To keep you alive and well. To keep your love for each other growing. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, you hear me? Nothing." He said firmly. You pulled away and looked at his eyes. He was dead serious and you immediately felt comfort. You knew Billy would do anything for you, just like you would do anything for him. You thought back to that night when he suggested you guys staying over at Stu's, and with the incident it seemed like it was the best option for everyone.

"Awh, look at you love birds." Stu said walking towards you guys. "Keep it down, would you?" Billy said, annoyed at his friend being so verbally open. "Oh c'mon, it's just us here, lighten up." Stu replied and hugged you from behind. You looked at him over your shoulder and he kissed you. "That's my baby." He cood and you couldn't help but giggle at his words. Billy stood there in front of you guys, his eyes roaming your body and observing how you behaved with Stu. He couldn't deny that he liked seeing you two being so affectionate with each other. "You want a kiss too?" Stu asked Billy teasingly and the boy rolled his eyes, annoyance written on his face. "Take a hike." he said and Stu laughed. "I love you too."

You laughed at their interaction. Stu was undeniably attracted to Billy but the boy was hard to read. Your relationship kept growing by the minute and you wouldn't be surprised if they ended up having some kind of dynamic in the future.

"You guys coming to my fiesta tonight?" Stu asked and Billy raised at eyebrow. "Yeah, we're staying over." He said, pointing at you and then at himself. Inviting you without a care. "Well shit, okay." Stu said teasingly, releasing a breathy laugh. Billy smirked then looked at you. Tension was surrounding the air around you and you blushed as a consequence.

•

Stu's house was packed. There were people you didn't even recognize hanging out and you were determined to go to the pool to avoid as many people as you could.

As you approached the back doors that lead to your desired destination, Tatum, Stu and Sidney were already in the pool, close to the steps. Stu and Tatum were in the water trying to convince Sidney to get all the way in as she complained about it being too cold.

"Mind if I join?" You asked, already taking your cover up dress off. You had a blood red colored bikini on that hugged your body perfectly. Your tits were on display, the slightest bit of under boob was visible and the cheeky bottoms made your ass pop out.

"Looking hot YN, you're gonna have to tell me where you got that bikini later." Tatum said, a genuine smile on her face. Despite her dirty move with your ex she was an honest girlie, which you appreciated despite your resentment. "You've got that right babe." Stu answered and stuck his tongue out. Tatum rolled her eyes playfully, not knowing that her boyfriend's usual flirting wasn't casual in the slightest.

You dipped your toes and widened your eyes. "What the fuck guys, the water is cold." you agreed with Sidney and sat next to her, trying to get half of your body used to the temperature first. "Oh c'mon guys! Get in!" Tatum shouted and pulled Sidney by her legs, the girl releasing a yelp before sliding all the way in the pool. Stu walked towards you and picked you up by the waist and over his shoulder, walking deeper into the water. "No! Stop it!" You said playfully and Stu released you, the cool water hugged your body and the shock of temperature felt good in a torturous way. As you floated up, you took a deep breath and hit Stu on his bicep playfully. "Asshole." - "Oh don't be a cry baby." He said and you rolled your eyes. "Hey, where's Billy?" You whispered at the boy and he smirked at you, "Mmm you want him to see you in this little bikini of yours?" Stu replied teasingly and played with the straps of your top. You smiled teasingly and flicked his hand. "Relax, he's getting us some beer from the garage."

A few minutes later Billy walked out with a six pack in his hands. "There's my booyy, and he brought just enough for everyone." Stu cheered and winked at you. The girls walked out to grab their drinks and you followed them. "Can you get me mine babe?" Stu asked, staying behind. "Seriously?" - "C'mooon" He begged, and you couldn't deny him when he was being that cute and whiny.

The girls grabbed their bottles first and you followed second. Walking towards Billy you smirked at him as he shamelessly looked at you from head to toe. "Fuck, baby... Are you trying to kill me tonight?" He whispered and you let out a breathy laugh. "Mm, who knows? Maybe I'm the vampire." You said teasingly and Billy laughed at your dark comment. You winked at him before grabbing two beer bottles and approached the edge of the pool where Stu was. You sat on the floor, dipping your feet in. The boy grabbed the bottle from your hands and took a swing.

Suddenly, he got the sweetest smell from you. A faint musk to it as well. He looked at Billy to see if he also detected it but the boy was making small talk with Tatum and Sidney.

"So, is Randy around?" You asked Stu and he shook his head slightly before taking another swing of his beer to ground himself. "Yeah, he's inside watch..." he suddenly stopped talking and looked between your legs. A small amount of blood and water pooled between them. "Is that... Blood?" Stu asked, his pupils dilated slowly. "What... Oh my God..." You looked between your legs. You got your period early. "Fuck..." You whispered and moved subtly reaching for the towel on the chair behind you. Stu felt like he was getting intoxicated by your delicious aroma. He felt his fangs starting to grow and he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to control himself. Luckily, you picked up the towel in time to wrap it around you and excuse yourself.

Stu made eye contact with Billy. He also knew. When you walked past him his pupils started to dilate as well, but he had much more control than Stu when it came to the urge of tasting you. Billy made his way to Stu and crouched down in front of him. "Get ahold of yourself, we can't risk getting caught, you understand?" He whispered, aggression lacing his words. Stu sighed and looked up in defeat. "Man, how the fuck are we gonna be able to resist if they're going to sleep over tonight?" Stu asked, desperation slowly overwhelming him. "We'll figure it out later, okay? Just keep it in your pants for now." Billy replied and glared at him before stepping inside the house to make sure you were okay.

•

You stepped out of the shower after excusing yourself for the rest of the party. Billy was constantly checking up on you until everyone left and all three of you were finally alone.

You put on leak safe underwear since you preferred to free bleed, and one of Stu's sweaters which covered your body perfectly, given your size difference.

When everyone finally left the house, you went down stairs to look for the boys and help clean up the after party mess. To your surprise, Billy and Stu had taken care of everything. You wondered how long it took them to finish everything, it hadn't been long since you heard the music stop playing and the sweet silence of the absence of the herd of people that were drowning the house.

In the kitchen, Billy and Stu were talking quietly. You couldn't make out a single word they were saying, so you assumed they thought you were fast asleep and didn't want to wake you up.

You barely took a few steps in the room and their eyes were already on you. They seemed darker than usual.

"Hey baby, how you feeling?" Billy was the first to speak. He walked towards you slowly and placed his hand on your cheek. "I'm fine, I just didn't want to be around people." You answered.

The vibes were off. The boys were strangely quiet and mellow. Their gazes were intense and their eyes didn't look the same as they usually did. They were scanning your body like hungry animals and you were starting to get a little bit freaked out.

"Why is everyone acting weird? I just got my period a day early, it's not a big deal. Seriously." You said, starting to get kind of annoyed at their strange behavior and lack of words.

"You see, that's what you don't understand YN, it is a big deal." Stu said and started to move towards you almost as if he were hunting a prey. "Stu." Billy said in a warning tone.

You took a step back and swallowed thickly. Your breathing picked up.

"You smell so sweet and it's driving me insane." Stu said and you gave him a confused stare. What did he mean by that? "And you know what? I don't care anymore." He continued and his eyes turned completely black. You gasped at the sight. Confusion was the only thing going through your head. Fear, but intrigue at the same time. Stu bit his lower lip before smiling, and there it was. Fangs. "What the fu-" you attempted to run but Billy held you from behind, moving you quickly so you ended up behind him. He was shielding you with his large frame. "Stu, for the love of fuck, get ahold of yourself!" the boy said and you held his arm from behind. "Does he want to kill me?" You asked and he turned around quickly. Stu seemed to calm down when he heard your words. "No baby, we would never hurt you. He just-" Billy paused and looked at Stu over his shoulder before meeting your eyes. "Wants to taste you... Your blood." You looked at him with curiosity in your eyes. What would it be like to be bitten by a vampire? "Would you guys... Kill me if I let you?" You asked and Billy's pupils instantly dilated, his eyes turning completely black just like Stu's. The fear you felt mixed with excitement. You felt an energy shift with them like this. Wild and ready to pounce. It was risky. It was crazy, and you wanted it.

"Taste me." You said, and that was it.

Stu walked towards you and picked you up, his big hands around your waist. He sat you on the counter and stood between your legs. He could smell your arousal mixed with the blood between your legs and groaned. "Finally." He whispered and moved your head to the side softly. You bit your lip and prepared for the unknown pain you were about to experience.

Stu licked and kissed your neck a few times before digging his fangs in your flesh. You released a high pitched moan. The pain was pleasurable. You felt your blood run down your neck and over your chest.

Billy was leaning against the counter close to the both of you. A smirk on his face and his cock impossibly hard against his jeans. The sight of Stu savoring you excited him more than he thought it would. He bit his lip and hissed, his fangs fully displayed with the action.

Stu took the sweater off your body, exposing your bloody tits to both of them and Billy couldn't take it anymore. He walked towards you and Stu moved to the side, opening your legs more so Billy could be in front of you as well. He took another bite below Stu's mark and groaned at your taste. He licked the stripe of blood that ran down your chest and moaned. Stu joined him and lapped at the fluid as well. Their tongues touched occasionally against your skin and you were going insane. You moaned and whined at the sight of your vampire boyfriends tasting you.

Billy desperately took your underwear off and tossed them somewhere on the kitchen floor. He inhaled sharply and moaned at your scent. Stu slid down between your legs under Billy and licked your bloody cunt. Billy kissed you desperately as the boy between your legs moaned against your center.

You were tasting yourself on Billy's tongue, a metallic and somewhat sweet flavor palette. You were so turned on that you didn't even care about the fact that you were practically consuming your own blood from your boyfriends mouth.

Stu dipped his long tongue inside you and you arched your back at the feeling. Billy couldn't handle not being between your legs eating you up so he slid down your body and positioned himself next to Stu. They both licked your clit and savored your cunt like it was their last meal. The sight of them touching tongues while pleasuring you was enough to send you over the edge. You came the hardest you've ever experienced. The wave of pleasure was so overwhelming that another mini orgasm washed over your body right after. You were practically screaming at that point but they weren't done with you yet.

Both of them stood up and pulled you down from the counter by your legs. You crashed against Billy and he pinned you against the fridge. He kissed you with passion and rubbed your clit a few times before finger fucking you. "Fuck, fuck... Please! Just fuck me already!" You moaned and he unbuttoned his jeans quickly, picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his torso and he spun around, leaning against the fridge. You felt Stu grab your waist to keep you steady while he unbuttoned his pants. Suddenly, Billy slipped inside you all the way in. The lubrication your blood provided created the perfect slide and the pleasure was intense as well. Billy started thrusting at a steady pace and moaned in your ear while he held you close.

Stu inserted his cock inside you a few minutes later after making sure you were stretched enough for him. Your boyfriends filled your hole deliciously and your moans filled the room. There was blood and arousal running down your thighs. You were a mess and felt like you were going to pass out any moment from the loss of blood and the intense pleasure you were receiving.

Billy and Stu lapped at the blood dripping down from your neck once again and moaned in unison. They couldn't handle it anymore and came inside you, filling you up with their seed. They rode their highs inside you before pulling out. Stu released you and you leaned against Billy.

"You okay?" Billy asked, his voice husky against your ear. You let out a breathy laugh and bit your lower lip. "I need a shower" You replied, energy drained from your body.

"Let's go." Billy whispered and Stu carried you up the stairs.

#billy loomis smut #billy loomis x you #scream (1996)#billy loomis x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostfacesmut #stu macher smut #stu macher x billy loomis #stu matcher x reader

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padfootagain · 2 months ago

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Love in Verses (XI)

Chapter 11: ‘Lived to see you throwing me aside.’

Hi! Here is another chapter! On the menu today: a dinner with Sam and Frank… I’ll let you guess how well this will go… (I hope my choice for Andrew's pic for this chapter gives you a clue...)

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2933

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Hesitate to call

Lived to see you throwing Me aside. That fought Like nettled fish inside me. Saw you throbbing In my syrups. Saw you sleep. And lived to see That all that all flushed down The refuse. Done? It lives in me. You live in me. Malignant. Love, you ever want me, don’t.

Louise Glück, The First Five Books of Poems

Andrew checked his appearance in the mirror for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

He was nervous beyond reason, after all he was heading to a restaurant to see Sam. And after a long-term relationship, he shouldn’t have felt so troubled by it. But things were different now, things were… complicated, to say the least.

Still, he heaved a sigh, checked his appearance once more. He had let his hair loose, had put on contacts, was wearing a black shirt and some dark jeans. He looked tired, exhausted even. Work was a lot at the moment, he had a thousand things to do. He still struggled to sleep, was still tortured with thoughts and dreams of Sam, of her leaving, of her loving someone else.

November was ending, and with it, the remnants of Andrew’s and Sam’s plans. Plans…

A weekend in Kerry in September. Saimhan with friends. Now, Andrew should be packing. He should be choosing clothes, not for an evening in a restaurant, but for a weekend in Glasgow. A flight late at night leaving from Dublin, another one during the night between Sunday and Monday. And in between, a couple of days just for them, spent eating, visiting museums, seeing the sights, walking around the town. A night in a hotel, one she had chosen, spent on filling their hearts with love and their bodies with lust and desire.

He looked at his reflection again, stared right into his own hazel eyes. They were greener than usual, probably because wearing contacts made his eyes water. He would have been more comfortable with glasses, more relaxed as well, more himself, in a way.

He blinked tears away as a thought crossed his mind, a painful one he wished he could have kept at bay, but he didn’t have the strength for that. Beating himself up was a habit, since childhood. There were thoughts sometimes that formed in his mind that brought him pain, but he listened anyway. Sometimes they were quiet, sometimes they were deafening. These days they were loud and clear.

He went to get his coat, grab his car keys, get ready to leave. He petted Elwood, told him to be a good boy, that he would soon be home. The thought followed him outside his home.

Being himself was never enough for Sam to love him.

Christ, Sam was so beautiful…

It was breaking his heart that they weren’t on a date. As he entered the restaurant, saw her sitting at a table waiting for him, Andrew was reminded of hundreds of evenings spent like this, going on a date in a restaurant, at the cinema, it didn’t even matter where. At the end, they didn’t go out much anymore. Sam always seemed to be too busy for that. At the time, Andrew thought it was only because of her job. Now, he wondered if maybe she had not already started to give up on them.

But he hadn’t. To this day, he hadn’t given up on them…

He kept on admiring her for a few more seconds, until the rest of the table was revealed to him, and the illusion waned. You were there too, facing Frank. The restaurant was posh, he felt a little uneasy in this atmosphere. He wouldn’t have chosen such a place for a date, but he had no doubt that Sam liked it.

He forced a smile as he approached, was greeted warmly by Frank, the first one who spotted him as he approached. You turned on your chair to greet him with a relieved smile, and his heart made a happy jump at the sight of you. He had an ally tonight, he wasn’t on his own…

“You’re late.”

He turned to Sam, his heart dropping again. Her tone was flat, emotionless, and he knew her enough to be aware that it was worse than annoyance. She was angry. He struggled to swallow.

“Yeah, sorry… Had some stuff to take care of before coming.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing it was a lie. Or well, it wasn’t a lie, but the real reason was simply that Andrew was always late. To everything. He couldn’t do much about it; if left unattended, he simply lost track of time. The alarms he had set up had done little to help him tonight. He didn’t add anything, merely took a seat.

“Ha, no worries!” Frank reassured him, and Andrew could tell that he was nervous and willing to make Andrew feel welcome. As a result, Andrew was highly uncomfortable.

“The food looks… interesting,” you commented, trying to drag the conversation away from Andrew, and he was grateful for it.

“The oysters are particularly good!” Frank recommended.

You said nothing, but Andrew frowned.

You… hadn’t you told him once that you weren’t such a fan of seafood?

Indeed, when you chose what to eat, you didn’t follow Frank’s advice at all.

Conversation drifted towards work, and your respective lives. Catching up or getting to know each other.

And Andrew understood Frank’s appeal tonight, as he watched him lead the conversation. He was louder than Andrew ever was, bright, clearly extraverted, longing for people’s attention. He was funny, charming. And handsome, that too, Andrew couldn’t deny that either. His complete opposite. Average height, muscles that threatened the fabric of his sleeves while he passionately talked about his work and moved his hands around, blond with electric blue eyes.

So… that was what Sam longed for? What had made you fall for him?

Andrew tried not to think this way. There was nothing he could do about his physical appearance, his ridiculous height, his gangly stature… there was no need to torture himself over that. He could show that he took care of Sam though. That he paid attention to her. That he loved her…

Because Frank didn’t seem to care all that much. Andrew saw it as you talked about your work, about how nervous you were as you got ready to give your students their first test of the year. And if Andrew was intently listening, Frank was clearly uninterested. He drew the conversation away from your job as soon as he could, offering encouraging words, and quickly moving on. You smiled, but you weren’t fooled. Andrew saw it in the way your gaze saddened, in the way the excitement that had been glimmering there died out instantly. His heart ached at the sight. And when Frank spoke again, Andrew didn’t care.

“Will you set a limit for the length required for the essay?”

Frank grew quiet, frowned. You turned to Andrew, clearly surprised by his question.

“Erm… I haven’t decided yet. I usually don’t.”

“Once a student gave me a twenty-pages long essay…”

“Twenty pages?!”

“Yeah… she was thorough, for sure.”

“Did you read the whole thing?”

“Of course. And now I set a limited word count.”

You chuckled, nodded.

“Maybe I should do that. What about your class about Yeats? Have you decided on a subject for an essay?”

“I’m still hesitating… I want to prepare one about Yeats’s involvement in the Irish Literary Revival… but I could choose one of his love poems about Maud Gonne too.”

You chuckled.

“Why do I feel like they’ll hear a lot about No Second Troy…”

“I love that poem.”

“Anyone who speaks of literature with you for more than ten minutes knows that,” you teased. “It’s a short poem to study, though.”

“Yeah… but that means they would really have to work on each line, instead of simply skipping whatever element they struggle with.”

“True.”

“I feel like it would be easier for them to work on the more political side of Yeats’s work during exam season. The material is easier, and we’ll go thoroughly through the most important aspects of these texts in class. So… I think I’ll ask them to work on love poems at home.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

You exchanged a smile. When Andrew looked up at Frank and Sam, they had stopped listening and were both eating their meal in silence. Sam was looking at something on her phone, a habit she had developed in the past couple of years.

She hadn’t asked him about his job. She hadn’t asked him if he wrote, how he felt, if he was suffering because of her. Perhaps she didn’t want to hear his answers. Perhaps she didn’t really care. Andrew was starting to have doubts. The more the evening was progressing, the more he realised that she didn’t seem to care. Sam and Andrew had spent years together, but she wasn’t listening as he spoke of his work, of the things he loved most on Earth.

Did she even care at all about him anymore? She used to listen to him talk about music and poetry for hours, back when they were students…

Or did she? She had never liked his own writing, but he thought she listened when he spoke of what he loved, still. She didn’t seem willing to make an effort these days… but then again, they weren’t together anymore. So, why would she?

“I’ve listened to your record, by the way!”

Andrew blinked, looked at you again.

“What?”

“Duke Ellington and John Coltrane. I’ve listened to it.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Did you? Really?”

You nodded, an excited smile on your lips.

“Of course! I’m going to sound very basic, I think In a Sentimental Mood was my favourite… although I really loved My Little Brown Book too.”

His mouth broke into a bright grin.

“Grand! Like… that’s grand! I’m glad you liked it.”

Frank stared at you for a moment.

“Who are you talking about?” he asked, trying to slither in the conversation.

“Andy recommended me some music! I have a whole list at this point,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow and making him chuckle and blush.

“It’s Jazz,” Andrew explained. “Some of the greatest, honestly.”

Sam heaved a sigh, still focused on her screen.

“Oh… nice,” Frank nodded, although he didn’t sound convincing at all.

“I really liked it a lot,” you went on. “I don’t really have the vocabulary to describe it, like… on a technical point of view, you know? But I liked it. It was very… like… drawing me in, in a way. There was tension, and then once I was trapped in the song, there was so much emotion there… And it’s unusual for me to be so focused when listening to instrumental music. I have a busy brain, I get distracted easily.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I have a busy brain too… but that’s what Blues and Jazz do to me. They kind of… shush my brain. Make it go quiet.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“You like music, then, Andy?”

Andrew looked at Frank again, wanted to correct him and ask to be called Andrew… but he didn’t want to seem rude. He didn’t like it, though, how he used his nickname.

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Andy wanted to be a musician, back in the days,” Sam intervened, putting her phone down again.

“Really? What instrument do you play?”

“I sing, mostly… play guitar too.”

“But you didn’t make a career out of it? Not that it’s surprising, it’s a tough field to work in. Most people can’t make a living out of it. Like… there’s so much competition, so few who actually get to make it. It must be a tough life.”

“A few of his friends made it though, and he had the talent for it,” Sam went on. “But Andy is not one to compromise easily.”

Andrew stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?”

She shrugged.

“You could have had a record deal, had you accepted to change a few things about your songs.”

Andrew huffed, he could barely believe his ears…

“There was never an opportunity for me to record my own songs, and you know that. I didn’t want to sing those… attempts at pop hits that felt soulless to me.”

“And you didn’t get a record deal.”

“I didn’t want that kind of deal. I wanted to record the songs I had written.”

She didn’t say a thing, but her thoughts were loud enough for Andrew to guess them.

And then you didn’t record any of those either.

“Why are you saying all that like you’re resenting me?” Andrew asked, and Sam shook her head.

“I don’t resent you, of course! It was your choice.”

“You do sound like it though…”

“I’m just pointing out that you’re not the kind of guy who compromises much.”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow and huffed again.

“You’re one to talk…” he mumbled.

Andrew spent his time compromising. Had he not compromised when he wanted to take a job in London and had settled for Dublin instead because she didn’t want to move there? When she refused to move in with him and asked for more time to find herself? When she chose most of their topics of conversations? When he barely talked about his work?

He let out a long exhale, took a bite of the overpriced fish he had ordered. He didn’t even like the food…

Sam spoke again, about some stupid tv reality she had been watching with Frank, and you listened even though you hadn’t seen it. Meanwhile, Andrew wanted to talk about music with you again. He wanted to ask you about Duke Ellington, he wanted to ask you what songs you liked, he wanted to listen to you ramble about how music made you feel. Your thoughts were always interesting, he could have talked with you for hours… and sometimes he did.

But he shook himself. He wanted Sam. He wanted to have Sam back, and nobody was perfect. There were some things in Sam that annoyed him or disappointed him or that he didn’t understand but at the end of the day she was Sam, and that was enough for him.

He was quieter throughout the rest of the evening, trying to do some damage control over the couple of tensed moments that had occurred during the night.

But then the conversation settled on the wedding itself, and things turned ill all over again…

“And we need to settle on a cake too! Christ, everything is complicated when you’re planning a wedding!” Sam laughed, while Andrew was tightly closing his fists under the table, until his nails drew crescent marks into his palms, while you looked away in a hurry.

“You know… I thought we could choose a strawberry cake,” Frank said. “It’s a classic, most people like those…”

“Sam is allergic to strawberries,” Andrew answered without thinking.

An uncomfortable silence settled across the table.

“Oh… you didn’t tell me that, babe,” Frank told Sam, who frowned.

Clearly, she had told him before, but she said nothing.

“Well, we’ll choose something else!” Frank shrugged.

“What about your career, then?” you asked your ex, staring intensely at him.

“My career?”

“You… you used to say that you wanted to wait to get married because you needed to focus on your career.”

Slowly, Frank nodded.

“Yeah… that’s true. I used to want that. But… it’s different with Sam.”

Andrew saw the pain that shot across your features. There was so much anger that ran through his veins then…

“Right,” you nodded.

“Like… my work seemed the most important, but now… not anymore. Or… not in the same way. So, why wait?”

“Why wait, indeed…” you slowly nodded while Frank and Sam exchanged a tender gaze, one that made Andrew nauseous.

He looked down at the piece of cheesecake he had barely touched, decided not to eat it. He couldn’t get anything more down…

The meal ended in a quiet mood, with conversations spent mostly between Sam and Frank, but the couple seemed satisfied with this situation. When they disappeared in a cab together, Andrew felt emptier than ever. A shell without a pulse or any other semblance of life…

“Andy?”

He turned around to look at you standing behind him in the street, right before the restaurant. Your frame was illuminated by both the white light coming from the restaurant’s sign and the orange hues of the streetlights.

He caught himself thinking that you were beautiful, had to push the thought away. But you were. You had dressed up tonight, undoubtedly to impress Frank, just like Andrew had tried to impress Sam with his careful choice of outfit. And Andrew was impressed, at any rate. You were gorgeous…

You offered him a humourless smile.

“Tonight was… a lot, right?”

He nodded, letting out a long exhale through his nose.

“You can say that…”

“I can’t say that it went… incredibly well.”

“No… it was… strange.”

“Let’s put it that way, yeah.”

“I’m not sure it helped us make any progress.”

“I’m not so sure either. On the contrary. But we tried, at least.”

Andrew nodded, looked at you as you heaved a sigh.

“You know what I want right now?”

He shook his head, tilting his head to the side as he waited for you to speak again, his hands now buried in his pockets.

“I really… really… want to get drunk. Like… hammered. Properly destroyed.”

Andrew exploded with laughter.

“You know what… sign me up! Getting very drunk sounds nice!”

“Let’s go to my place. I don’t want to be surrounded by people anymore,” you offered, and Andrew easily accepted.

As he followed you throughout the street, he reckoned that at least one thing in this evening could be pleasant, after all.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier series #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au #series #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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ashthemadwriter-archived · 2 years ago

Text

"Either I'm insane or you were just masturbating in our living room"

"Open your mouth for me baby"

"Do you know what happens when you misbehave?"

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing: Fyodor X Fem!Reader

Request: "HIIII I'm here for your September event ! God, I hope it's not too late and you'll take my request (and I hope you're having a good day). So I'll like 17, 1 and 5 with Fyodor. If it is possible a Fyodor... Not very nice, you know, a little psycho. OK it's weird, I hope you will accept T-T Have à great day !!" ◜By dear @concombre-2-mer ◞

Genre: Smut

Format: Fic

Warnings: Explicit smut, Porn with a plot, Orgasm denial, Yandere themes, Toxic relationship, Mean dom!Fyodor, Sub!Reader, French!Reader(Just pretend that you're French if you aren't lol), Lovesick!Reader,Heavy degrading, Praising, Slapping, Choking, Spitting, Dacryphilia, Fingering, Vaginal penetration, Pet names(Dear, Darling, etc), Name calling(Slut, whore, etc), Dirty talk, MDNI, Dark content dead dove do not eat

Word Count: 4.4K (I KNOW)

A/n: Ahhhh this took so long I am very, very sorry. Also, I hope I reach your expectations lol.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, a complicated, brilliant, dangerous man, with so many plans in his head.

You met him at a ball where your dad, the most powerful senator of France, was the host, and he was one of the VIP guests. The second your eyes caught a glimpse of the raven-haired man, your heart missed a beat. It wasn't just about his looks- although you could never overlook how attractive he was. It was the way he calmly witnessed everything and talked in a nice but also careful manner, or perhaps how he smiled elegantly while looking at other people blabbering, like he knew all their intentions inside out- which you found out later that he actually did; nothing can escape this mans sharp eyes.

Whatever the reason was, he had you fascinated by him from the very beginning.

You made the not-so-wise decision to approach him and start a casual conversation, which only made you more curious about this mysterious, fetching man. Your discussion that was supposed to be a short chit-chat lasted for hours, but it couldn't be any other way. You had the same interest, the same likes, the same taste in literature; it was nice having someone who understood what you were talking about and didn't look at their clock every ten seconds as company; nice, and rare.

When the party was over and Fyodor walked you to your room as the gentleman he was, he couldn't miss the hints of lust in your eyes, and how you were looking at him so desirably, hoping he would step inside the bedroom and spend the night with you; but all you got was a kiss goodbye on your cheek and a formal farewell.

That night you couldn't sleep. Between all the tossing and turnings, you thought about the ball. How you found the perfect guy, spent the whole event with him while others were laughing and drinking at the buffet, and how you got rejected in the end. Maybe he was just playing with you after all; just to get information about your father and to take advantage of you, like everybody else had done. He was never interested in you in the first place.

You were wrong.

Not about the information part. He did got the information he wanted through his intellectual methods and you carelessly gave it all away; but for the first time in his life, Fyodor found himself curious about someone, for reasons that weren't involved with his work. He didn't care about your father and his political status anymore, he wanted to know about you; which explained why your phone was ringing with an unknown number showing up on the screen the day after the event.

He asked you to give him a tour around the city and to accept his invitation to a lovely dinner as a thank you gift, and you accepted without giving it a second thought.

Nothing happened that night either.

You were frustrated. Everything was going great, he even smiled at your funny remarks a few times- actually, he was smiling the whole time, examining your expressions with a vague look on his face. But the second you arrived at your home, he was gone again, rejecting your offer to come inside for "a cup of coffee".

Who was this man? Why did he kept doing this? He was not someone you could read his mind easily, you had no idea what was going on through his head; all you knew was that you'd only known this man for two days, and you're already obsessed with him.

Given how many times he had humiliated you, it was stupid to accept his offer for another date the day after again, but you weren't really thinking anymore.

Just like that, you kept going on small dates with each other every night, and he kept refusing to come inside each time; but you were happy that you got to spend time with him; you could always open yourself on your fingers pretending that they're his afterwards. You could see a future for yourself with this man, living in a fancy house together. He would read to you when your head is on his lap, take a bubble bath with you in the bathtub, you could even get yourself a cat. A baby would be nice too, if Fyodor would be down for that...

Little did you know, you were digging yourself into a bottomless hole, which you'll never be getting out of.

Fyodor had the same thoughts as you.

You were so sweet, so kind and lovely. He liked it that you were actually smart, but lost all your senses when it came to him. You were sweetly stupid and it made his heart clench every time he had to drag his feet out of your alley to head back to his empty, cold apartment alone, but it was all part of his plan, and the only key to it was patience, because he needed to make you desperate, to the point that you would kneel and accept everything he tells you to, not needing to be told twice.

And it happened. You found yourself to be at Fyodor's beck and call, agreeing to his every word without putting much thought to it; Even when he asked you to run away with him.

You were skeptic of course; not enough to reject his offer, but you needed to hear him saying it was ok, it was the right thing to do. And he did, assuring you that your parents would never let you come with him if you tell them beforehand, that it's the only option you've got left and you will eventually visit them after a while.

How could you refuse when he was the one asking?

You didn't hear anything from your parents until a few days later, when the tragic accident of fire that had devoured the home of the great senator and the occupants alive got all over the news.

You haven't seen Fyodor for over one week.

Months have passed since the "accident" and your so called "get away", but things have gotten worse, if even changed slightly. You've been kept in a small apartment ever since, and haven't caught a glimpse of the sun for so long, not even through the windows.

Fyodor said it's for your own good, that people who killed your family are after your blood and you need to stay somewhere he can protect you, but you're not sure if sealing the windows are really related to that. You don't have a key to the apartment, even to the rooms; Fyodor has set many ground rules of things you should and should not do, and it's frustrating.

Your patience knows limits, and it might already be at it.

You're lying in front of the TV, with a bowl of ice cream in your hand, looking at some romantic movie in your own language. You watch the people laughing, dancing, making love, but the only thing you feel is one single emotion.

Envy

You're envious of other people. How they go on fancy dates and end up fucking in a public bathroom, while you haven't even kissed Fyodor yet. You don't have the faintest idea why he asked you to come with him in the first place. That's what Fyodor does to you, always keeping you in the dark and only coming back when he decides it's the right time.

Him, not you. Your opinion does not matter one single bit.

Sighing, you turn the TV off and put the empty bowl on the table. You're already way too depressed, you don't need to see other people's happiness and regret about your own choices.

But that's the problem. You don't regret anything. You don't regret taking Fyodor's hand when he offered you a dance at that part, you don't regret spending time with him and having wet dreams about him at nights, you don't regret agreeing to come to this place;

you even know that he was the one who slaughtered your entire family, but you decide not to think about anything other than him because sometimes, ignorance is a bliss.

As you lean back to the couch, you wonder where your boyfriend- if you can even refer to him as that, is right now. What might he be doing? Is he planning another murder? Is he on a date with another poor woman to manipulate her, use her and then just throw her away like she's worth nothing? Is he holding her hand and whispering sweet promises about the future to her?

Ah, you just remembered.

His hands.

Fyodor has long, skinny hands and stretched, pale fingers. You admire the way his veins lay bare under his skin when he holds a coffee mug or writes a letter. His nails are always cut shortly, exhibiting his smooth skin and how he takes care of them. His hands are cold, not at a shivering state but cold enough for you to offer him your gloves, or just hold them to warm them up.

God, you can't wait to hold his hands again, and to feel them inside you once he finally gets around to it.

Sliding your hand in your pants, you close your eyes and imagine how his fingers would curl up and massage your sweet spot, dragging pleasure outside of your cunt. Will he be gentle, taking his time, making love to you? Or is he the kind to be rough and would make you scream his name by the end of the night? It's your call, since this is all an illusion and he isn't actually here.

Fyodor hates masturbation. He told you that once you brought the topic up on one of your dates. He thinks that it's pathetic, useless, and offending to a person's partner, But Fyodor isn't here; it's only you and your pitiable moans filling the room.

You whisper his name as you scissor yourself open on fingers that are actually supposed to be his, but unfortunately, they're attached to the pathetic body of yours. Tears find their way out of the corner of your closed eyes, staining your cheeks, and you wish he was here to wipe them off your face, plant a kiss on your forehead and say how well you're doing for him.

I miss you so much, Fedya…

You feel getting closer to your orgasm as your fingers speed up, but the sensation isn't nice, not as much as it would be when he's the one helping you out; yet this is all you're going to get for now, so you shouldn't complain and just take it.

With a cry out of his name, you come. Arousal covers your fingers and you have no choice but to clean them up with your mouth. Your whole body stings and you just lie there, panting and half way through crying. What would he do if he was here? Would he scold you? Punish you? Or say something like...

"What are you doing?"

Until a few minutes ago, you thought that when he comes back, you'll jump into his arms, kiss his face over and over while telling him how much you've missed him, and that he should bring you along with him everywhere he goes; but now that he's actually here, you just want this to be a mirage.

It isn't.

You desperately open your eyes and tilt your head toward the doorway, only to look at the tall man standing there through your blurry vision.

Fyodor is as handsome and terrifying as ever. There's a bouquet of roses in his hand, and he's wearing his usual outfit, an Ushanka and a black cloak. Everything looks the same as ever, except for the look on his face.

You expect him to be angry, to shoot daggers your way; but through the violet shades of his penetrating eyes, you find another emotion; one that intimidates you more than his anger and sends shiver down your spin.

Disappointment.

You stay silent and keep staring at his figure with widened eyes. Fyodor doesn't scold you. After a few seconds, he slowly walks toward you and places the roses on the table, standing next to the couch.

"May I take a seat?"

You want the ground to swallow you whole.

"S-sure, do as you wish"

He calmly makes himself comfortable on the couch, while you nervously curl yourself up against your side. Feeling like you need to explain yourself, you want to say that it's not what it looks like, but you know you would only tie yourself up in knots. Besides, it's exactly what it looks like, and Fyodor isn't stupid.

With an expressionless face, he points at the flowers on the table.

"These are for you"

Roses are your favorite type of flowers. Sitting there with your legs crossed and your arms wrapped around your shins, you sense his thoughtful gesture to be a slap in the face. Guilt and fear makes your heart ache yet you don't have the guts to start crying again.

You didn't want him to come back. Not like this.

"Ah, thank you..."

He couldn't have heard you since you mumbled so quietly, but he's got sharp ears. You look unsure when you stretch your arms out to pick the flowers up, but when you sniff them, your face brightens up with delight.

"They are lovely"

"So, care to tell me why you were calling out for me like that?"

He's not going to let it slide, is he?

"Nothing. Where have you been?"

"Answering my question with another one? I see"

While you struggle to breath, he takes his Ushanka off and places it between you, and all you do is watching him carefully for a reason you're unaware of yourself, but he probably is, since he's a mine of information and knows every twist and turn of your brain.

"To answer your question, I could say I was tying up a few loose ends. But fill me in, dear; was I hallucinating earlier? Because, either I'm insane or you were just masturbating in our living room"

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but words seem to have been erased from your mind and your tongue doesn't roll in your mouth as it did before. When he doesn't hear a response, he flashes you a pitying look and shakes his head.

"No comeback? You're not even denying it"

How long was he standing there anyway? Was he there from the beginning? Because god, if he was then you don't want to face him ever again.

"You know dear, I thought that we should wait until we were in a better place; but if you're so eager... I shouldn't keep you waiting for so long"

Ah, what?

When he catches you staring at him, like you're unable to believe your ears, he merely smirks; standing up and taking the direction to your bedroom.

"Aren't you coming, sweetheart?"

"I'm... coming..."

You don't have a clue of what is going on, still, you've waited for this moment from the year dot; you won't be letting it pass this easily.

As you enter the bedroom, the sight of Fyodor taking his cloak off catches your eye. He takes a peek at you from the corner of his eye, only to find you standing next to the wall awkwardly.

"What are you waiting for? Get undressed"

"...Ok"

Stripping out of your clothes, you feel slightly embarrassed when your whole body is exposed to him for the first time, and his eyes scanning you up and down are not exactly helping.

Fyodor pauses a little, like he wants to say something but he's not sure if he should; then looks you in the eye.

"Get on the bed"

You obediently listen to his demand and lie down on the bed, getting excited when he follows you to hover on top of you. He gently cup your cheek with his hand, and cracks a smile.

"I don't think I've ever told you how pretty your eyes are, Darling"

You blush at his sincere comment that gives you enough courage to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down a little so that your lips are only inches apart. The idea of you initiating the kiss doesn't even cross your mind; Fyodor is the one in charge and he has to have control over everything. Thankfully, he's kind enough to not push you away this time, playing along by attaching his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. And you kiss him back with so much desire and longing, like you did every night before going to sleep in your imaginations. You won't be doing that anymore, now that you have the real thing.

Not only Fyodor doesn't stop you when he senses your hands on his body, trying to unbutton his shirt, he even helps you out with some of them. You smile into the kiss when you feel a certain "something" pressing against your core, which doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"You sure get cocky, But I don't blame you dear; you certainly taste nice"

"Mhm... Touch me more, Fedya"

The mans face breaks into a mischievous grin. He places his hand on your collarbone, lightly rubbing it with his thumb.

"You want me to touch you more, Darling? Where do you want me to touch you?"

His hand roams down on your body, until it reaches to your boobs, And cups one of them.

"Here? or..."

You let his limb wander on your body, thrill taking over you as you anticipate where its destination might be. A soft moan skips your lips when he finally cups your womanhood, fingers teasing your clit.

"Maybe here? Hmm?"

"Fedya…"

"Yes, honey?"

You look at him with plead through your dewy eyes.

"Stop teasing and just give it to me, ok? I've been waiting for so long..."

Fyodor briefly examines your face and his small slowly fades away. You feel shaken by his sudden change of mood, wondering if you said something wrong.

"I will; but, do you think you deserve to be touched? You looked like you were having so much fun with your own hands back then"

As his gaze pierce through your soul, you find yourself to be in dire straits. Despite the position you're currently in, you know you should rack your brain and say something acceptable, or else you won't see the light at the end of the tunnel, or even tomorrow anymore.

"I'm... Really sorry about that... I guess I was just under so much pressure, you looked like you weren't attracted to me and you were gone for a quite amount of time... But It won't happen again, You have my word. I really am sorry"

As you wait for him to react to your genuine confession, his stare becomes more gentle, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

"I know you are Darling, I know you are"

His fingers lightly rub circles on your clit to make your mind go numb while he deeps his face in the place between the pillow and your ear, making you shiver every time his lips brush against your earlobe.

"Tell me y/n; which feels better? My hand or yours?"

You choke a moan out as his digits slide inside with the help of the arousal from your lewd activity earlier. They are longer than your fingers; longer, professional, and more importantly, they belong to him.

"Y-yours of course, Fedya"

"Good girl. That's what I thought"

Fyodor doesn't hurry anything. His moves are calculated, and with each shove, his fingertips hit just the right spot. As you whine and hold him closer, you think about something more exciting. When he can make you feel this good only using his fingers, god helps you when he unzips his pants and opens you up on his probably lengthy cock...

Which makes you brave enough to ask him, because if he fingers you for a little longer, you'll probably come and the chance to make him feel good will slip away from your hands.

"Fedya honey..."

"What is it, Love?"

"I need to feel you inside me"

His smile looks dazzling.

"Aren't I already inside you, dearest?"

"You know what I mean!"

Pulling his fingers out, you almost regret asking him to do so, but you try to comfort yourself since he's gonna stuff you with something better and you won't be feeling empty for long.

"Alright then; but first, open your mouth for me baby"

Deeming he probably wants to clean his digits up, you part your lips to help him out, but instead of fingers, he leans closer and abruptly spits in your mouth. You're stunned, but you still swallow it down your throat under the proud look in his eyes.

"So perfect for me, Myshka. Now, lie down and relax. Let me handle things from this point"

As if he wasn't already.

You can't believe your eyes when he uncovers his member from his pants. It's not the thickest cock, but the length is definitely quite something.

Fyodor smirks as he catches you staring. He adjusts himself on your entrance and casts an eye on your expression.

"Does my darling like what she sees?"

"Yeah..."

"I bet you'll like it more when I'm fucking your cunt"

Yeah, no shit.

With a bright groan, he pushes himself into your hole. Your pussy is slick enough to devour his dick, but also tight enough to send pleasure his way. He has a breather before thrusting in and out you, find the steady rhythm and the perfect place to hit inside, making your eyes roll at the back of your head.

While Fyodor does everything, holds you in place, sucks hickeys on your neck and rubs your right nipple with his fingers, all you do is whine, hug him tightly and hover your legs over his back. You would've felt disturbed by how cold his body was; but you don't feel troubled, not even the slightest bit. There is no way you would feel like that when he makes you feel so warm inside. Its not just about fucking- it's about him, coming back to you, to understand the pain you went through, and make the most memorable night as a reunion. In this cold bed, you find your body and your heart getting warmed up by this Russian man's love and affection.

Fyodor fastens his pace at plunging in your pussy, meanwhile his tongue rolls around on the sensitive spot on your neck. It's unbelievable how he knows your body like the back of his hand while this is the first time he gets to lay a hand on you. You don't know whether to moan at his cock pounding inside your tight cunt, or at how he doesn't stop marking you up as his belonging.

"A-ah... Fedya… I'm getting close..."

"I can feel it, love. C'mon darling, Come for me. Show me how much you like it when I make love to you"

His praises send you over the edge. You feel so close, this unholy feeling is so addictive and you never wanna let go. Your body is firing up, you start shaking and you're only a little away from your release; which you'll surely get there soon, with Fyodor whispering sweet things in your ear.

"You're doing so good, Milaya…"

"So pretty for me, sweetness"

"Come for me, baby"

"Come for me, beautiful"

"Come for me"

You are literally on the verge of breaking apart on his cock, one second away from releasing all over him and make a mess out of his lower abdomen. You close your eyes and ready to feel the orgasm wash over your stress and sorrow and make you complete again; but in a split second, you feel a tremendous amount of pain, due to the sudden emptiness of your hole.

You feel miserable when Fyodor's length leaves your orgasm undone, and when you open your eyes to know the reason, you're met with the emotion you were searching for not so long ago.

There's the anger and daggers he was saving from your stare, to let them appear at the right time.

Now.

"Do you think you deserve to come, y/n?"

All the warmth you were feeling a while ago, all the heat and certainty was gone; now it's only fear and pain, germinating in your heart, making your chest ache.

His look is dangerous. It's not just anger. It's everything. Fury, disappointment, disgust. For the first time since you met Fyodor, you feel so scared, to your fingertips.

His grip around your throat snaps you back into reality.

"I'm talking to you, slut. Do you think you deserve to come? After what you were doing on my couch, shamelessly touching yourself like some common whore?"

You don't say anything. You can't. You can't even breath. You can't even if he let's go of your throat. You just want to die.

"Ungrateful little bitch. You're so full of yourself. So needy and pathetic. It grosses me out. What do you want me to do? To treat you like the princess you are? To turn a blind eye to your scandalous behavior and make your every wish come true? You think you're still in your daddy's house?"

"N- no- no- I- no-"

His hand finally let's go of your throat, but just as you're about to gasp for breath, his palm lands on your cheek.

"Don't talk back to me. I didn't give you permission to talk yet"

You only stare at him with disbelief, unaware of the tears that have been falling from your eyes from the moment his attitude changed.

It was never about you.

Never about affirming you.

Never about comforting you.

From the very first moment Fyodor set foot in the house, he came to torture you.

"Do you know what happens when you misbehave, precious?"

He knew what you were doing. He has always known.

And yet, you love him with every inch of your soul. With every breath coming out of your lungs.

"Worthless woman. I should throw you out in the streets, where you belong to. You'll die eventually, if some guy doesn't rip your throat apart. Is that what you want, woman? You want freedom? Help yourself! Get out of my sight and never come back again"

"No! I'm sorry! I won't ever do that again! I promise- !- Please! Please- I swear- Please believe me, Fedya!"

Another slap, landing on your other cheek.

"Don't say my name with that filthy, disgusting mouth of yours. Know your place"

You don't say anything anymore. As he keeps stabbing you with heartbreaking words, you only sob and bite your bottom lip so that your whimpers wouldn't interrupt him.

Fyodor looks at your pathetic state, and clicks his tongue. He gets up and picks his clothes from the ground, shooting a warning glare at you.

"Now, I want to see you try to masturbate again"

And with that, he leaves you in the bed, shattered into pieces.

It will never be about you,

And you hate yourself for not hating this, until the day you die.

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