#from what I’ve been told blue sky is way better

[bellaartz]

Considering starting a Blue Sky account

[dreaisgrayte]

Half Blood | Muzan Kibutsuji x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, TW! YN does get assaulted, mentions of blood, drinking blood, gore, how many times do I mention claws? Oral fem!receiving, fingering, kissing, breeding kink, virgin sex, creampie, and overstimulation.

Word Count: 4.9k

a/n: guys this started off as a quick break from a Sanemi fic I'm working on (keep in mind I think short fics are no longer than 3k) and here I am... with a way longer fic than I intended and something I actually want to expand on in the future. It was a lot of fun to write this so I hope you enjoy it <3

“You,” His pink irises are illuminated by the moon high in the night sky. The blood within your body cools as you stare back at the man who stored your fate. His inky black hair flows down his shoulder in waves. A deep blue yukata loosely hung on his frame. “I’ve been watching you.” Muzan growls, edging ever closer to where you stood. His pointed canines glinted in the light, his nails sharp and ready to claw at your jugular. The demon king rolls his tongue along the tips of his teeth, studying you carefully. Was he deciding whether or not to feast upon your flesh?

He had never seen such a creature as yourself. Your skin was glowing, soft, and supple. The lavender color yukata covered most of your body, a delicate pattern of white flowers spanning the kosode fabric. Your obi was white with purple vines flowing around it. You wear simple white tabies paired with purple strapped zori. Elegance and grace radiated from you. He could smell the wisteria perfume in your hair. 

It was strange, you were a confrontation to the world he wanted to live in – yet something he could not tear his eyes away from. Here you were, standing in front of him without fear. He rather thought it would be better fun if you were afraid, he did so enjoy the chase. Though, there was – of course – a reason you relented in running away from him. Your eyes were stormy, eclipsed by thousands of emotions. That’s when a different smell, that had not yet hit him, tickled his nose. Blood, and not just any blood. You had the blood of a demon in you. Your stern, furrowed brows, with the revolting smell of wisteria burning his nose. You confused him. “What are you?” He purs out, not sure if what would come out of your mouth would be a lie or truth. He could always figure it out for himself one way or another. 

Your lip ticks, a show of annoyance you’d yet to master. The man in front of you knew, he could smell it, of that you were sure. Yet, he dared ask. What are you? You’d been told many times what you were. An abomination. A curse. A monster. “Are you not the demon king?” You spit back, growing angry. Would the other half of you reject your existence as well? You had hoped at least the demons would have the scarce bit of comradery running through their systems. Muzan’s brows lift, then knit together. Did he need to answer you? After all, he could easily swipe at your neck to kill you for being so insolent. The eager need to hear what you had to say captivated him though. 

When the man does not answer you tut, crossing your arms over your chest. “Here I thought the mighty demon king would be able to tell me apart from the rest.” You shake your head, laughing stiffly into the night. In a flash Muzan has you pinned to the trunk of a tree. Splinters etch toward your face from the very force of his hand. His muscular body cages you in and it takes you a moment to realize how your body aches to be near him. 

“I can smell you,” He mutters, squinting his beautiful eyes like he couldn’t quite distinguish what he was looking at. “You assault my senses, it’s driving me mad. There’s something different about you.” Muzan had first observed you walking in your village one evening, the way people sneered and cowered at your presence intrigued him. He found himself looking for you every night, wondering what your story was. These villagers were shunning you. He wished to know why such a pretty thing as yourself would be outcasted in her own village. “You smell like me, yet you are not. So I ask you again, what are you?” His voice is low, edging on the precipice of anger. 

You do not yield in holding his gaze. “I am you, yet I am not. Born of the sun and moon. A half-blood.” 20 years ago your mother found herself in the entertainment district, serving the pleasures of others. A man came to visit her on multiple occasions. Eventually, the two ran away together. Sharing in love and secrets. Your mother was a demon and your father a local carpenter. How you were able to be conceived was a mystery, even to them. They lived in peace, until one night. The villagers had finally seen through your father’s lies, storming their house. They slaughtered both of them and assuming you were a child taken captive, they whisked you away to a widowed mother. As you grew it was obvious where your origins lay, yet no one in the village dared to lay a hand on you. 

Muzan lets his gaze drop to where your heart pulsed, bouncing the skin of your jugular. “You are human and demon?” Something pulled tight in his chest. Could you walk in the sun? Did you regenerate? Were you the answer to his plight? “You are radiant.” He cannot stop the words from falling past his lips. Your eyes light up with recognition, acceptance, and for a moment your past falls away. He had the ever-growing urge to sweep you away. Your very existence was tantalizing to him in the least. He tilts his head, wrinkling his nose at the obscure way you smelt. 

Your eyes settle on the way he reacts to you, wondering if he’ll take you away someplace. Some place away from these villagers who had slaughtered your parents who just wanted to live in harmony. They did not deserve to die and you did not want to live one more second with their murderers. Muzan wanted to take you, but he couldn’t. Not yet. You were so fragile. If he were to touch you he would fear you would break on the spot. “Are you going to take me away from this place?” You whisper, hopeful tones floating to Muzan. He swallows something deep and thick. 

Muzan backs away from you, eyes tensing. “No.” He replies softly. He could not take you into his den, the other demons were too stupid to realize how precious you were. You would be dead within seconds. The line between your brows hardens again as his words hit you. 

“No? Why not? Am I not good enough for you?” Your voice is rising. You sound like a whining child who hasn’t gotten their way. Muzan winces at the obvious pain seeping into your voice. You were nothing like he’d ever seen before. Something beautiful, a miracle in his eyes. Therefore, he did not answer you. He simply faded back into the shadows. With his disappearance, your hopes and dreams faded as well.

—

The next time you see Muzan is two years later. His hair is shorter than you last saw it, the curls kissing the nape of his neck. This neat look couldn’t contain the loose curls that framed his face. A starched white collar shirt was tucked into an ornate waistcoat. He looked utterly different, yet he was your Muzan. He had the same eyes, the same far-off look, and on top of that, you could practically taste his scent. It was overwhelming, crushing even, but in a way, you enjoyed the rush. 

It was also a fact that you had escaped your village after one of the men tried to see how strong a half-blood was. He told you he was turned on by how revolting you were and he would take you as his wife in duty only. Until then you had never seriously thought about killing a human. The realization was both terrifying and freeing. So you fled to the entertainment district, living off of what you could at the Kyogoku House. There were so many smells here. Food, humans, sex, and demons. 

You worked under a beautiful oiran, and you could tell�� she wasn’t human. Part of you wanted to become friends with her, but if she hadn’t reached out for the sake of commonality, you didn’t think there was a chance of any other relationship than servant. 

Muzan’s brows furrowed. He had come to visit Daki and yet your scent prosecuted his brain. Ever since he left you in the forest that day he had been thinking of a way to retrieve you. You were too precious to let out of his sight again. This time he would secure you. He could feel his blood boil at the thought of you living in the Ukiyo. Kyogoku House was well protected, but anywhere without him wasn’t safe for you. Were you being used by men far beneath you? Muzan had never felt such rage toward the thought of men touching a woman. He often indulged in watching, humans were ever so entertaining – but you weren’t human. You were one of his and he swallowed harshly at the fact that you weren’t only his. 

He brushes past some of the lower-ranking courtesans, his eye twitching at their giggles. You watch from afar, the familiarity of his back etching a cold ache into your heart. He would leave again, of that you were sure. You hug the fresh sheets to your chest, making your way to the linen closet down the hall. “Ah, YN, I’ve been looking for you.” The Okaasan Omitsu stands before you. She has a cunning sneer behind the kind smile she wears. 

You bow, storing the sheets away before turning your full attention to her. “Yes Okaasan?” You can smell the evil intent behind this woman, it makes your stomach sink. 

“You wouldn’t mind doing me a favor would you?” She uses the word favor like you’d have a choice. She is the Okaasan after all. It’s like she thinks you’re some stupid girl that will follow whatever she says. Using the word favor is a manipulation tactic and if you were a naive girl, you would be eating out of the palm of her hand. 

You tilt your head to the left, plastering a fake smile of your own onto your lips. You knew anything out of your mouth except ‘yes Okaasan’ would make things harder for yourself. So with all your better judgment pushed aside, you say exactly that. 

Her eyes gleam. “Thank you, my dear. If you will kindly follow me.” She walks back up the hall, toward one of the private Ozashiki rooms. You glance around, nerves settling into your bones. You couldn’t be headed into one of these rooms, you weren’t even a kamuro. You were just an older shinzō. 

She stops in front of the panel, a cruel smile lifting the corners of her mouth. No, please, not this. “You are very blessed my dear, one of our chūsan is interested in you.” She slides the door aside and sitting against a wall smoking a pipe is a middle-aged man. Cushions are scattered around the floor and a twisted smirk plays with his mouth when he sees you. Okaasan bows then slides the door shut behind you. 

The room was stifling, the smoke choking out any of the senses you had. It was dizzying. “Mmm, you’re a lot older than I thought.” The man sneers, setting his pipe down. The fog of opium seemingly wraps around your throat, making it hard to breathe. “But you’ll do.” He laughs, patting the cushion next to him. “Why don’t you come a little closer?” He offers. Your body tenses. You were in danger, of that you were sure. You were not willing to give your virginity up to such a man but if you denied him the right to your own body, there would be outrage. You swallow, tentatively kneeling on the cushion next to him. 

He leans over you, sniffing the area around your shoulder. You stiffen. “You smell so good, better than all those flora bitches.” He growls. “I like your natural…musk.” Oh Gods did this man – who probably has a wife and children – just compliment how you smell when you’ve been working all day? “What do you like about me?” What a loaded question. 

You smile, one that shuts your eyes – if he saw the look in your eyes he’d be sure to know you were lying when you said, “I appreciate your generosity.” You bow your head and the man laughs heartily. 

His tongue darts out to coat his lips. “I can be more generous if you’d like?” He moves himself closer to you. “I was blessed with wealth, good looks, and a tool to make women scream.” Please let the tool be an ice pick so you can lobotomize yourself. “Whad’ya say, darling?” He coos, going in for what appears to be a kiss even though you hadn’t been given the time to answer him. 

You grimace away from his advance, shoving at his chest. The eerie playful tone in the room suddenly seems to vacuum out. The fog is still thick from the burning opium, but you don’t miss the way the man before you lunges for you. He’s panting above you with a charming pointy sneer. “Ah ah ah, not so fast. You haven’t serviced me, whore.” He digs his nails into your shoulder, pinning you to the wooden floor. “Look at you, begging for my cock with your eyes, ooohh you want it that bad you slut?” He hisses, fumbling with the buckle of his Western-style pants. You squirm wildly under his grasp but it’s like he’s infused with superhuman strength. “I’m gonna fuck you and then, as your reward,” His face is next to yours now, eyes glowing an electric yellow, pupils in slits. “I’m going to kill you.” His hand is on your throat, crushing your windpipe. You choke on what little air you were able to breathe earlier. 

A demon, this man was a demon. One of your kind. No… he wasn’t. He was something else. He was driven by the carnal desire to fuck and kill. You were too weak to push him off, your internal forces constantly warring against each other. You had always presented as human, meek, malleable, and obedient. What you would give to have your demon side come forth, bite this fucker’s head off. You want to scream – but on account of his claws sinking into the back of your neck – if you even moved that would surely be the end of your life. 

He tears your yukata to shreds, ripping the soft skin of your stomach open as well. Your mouth opens the pressure of a scream pushing against his hand. Blood mixes with the tattered cloth, the cotton dying red.

Muzan pauses, Daki grumbling about some inferior human drama. His eyes search the room, this time Daki taking notice from her self-indulged rant. Where was that smell coming from? He stands, silencing Daki before she can start whining again. The potent smell of blood was swirling to the top floor, but not just…any blood. “YN,” He hisses, the annoyance, rage, and blood-boiling sensations he felt earlier returning tenfold. Why were you bleeding? This was fresh cut blood, not from the dues women endured every month. He needed to find you, or he feared the worst. “I need to go.” He barely says to the demon next to him. Her face morphs into one of anger, and before she can hurl anything at him, Muzan slips out of her room. Where were you? He follows the pungent scent, clambering down the stairs and rushing down the hall until he’s in front of a private room. He’s sweating, for once fear is humming in his ear. He shoves the door to the side, witnessing a demon hunched over your body. 

Your blood is pooling around you dying the wonderfully blue yukata you wore earlier a sickly brown color. The demon doesn’t have time to look up because Muzan is already crushing its head, slashing its throat to shreds of what it once was. 

The room is covered in blood but the demon is dead. Muzan slides to the floor, cradling you in his lap. “YN, no, no please don’t die.” You were his miracle. You were his hope. If anything could save his damned soul it would be you. His arms are trembling as your stomach bleeds out, the skin marred, and…God the smell of your blood was driving him mad. It was something he shouldn’t be thinking about as you bleed out under him. You needed to regenerate. He wasn’t sure if you could so maybe your demon just needed a little push?

With his free hand, Muzan tears the flesh from his arm, bringing it down to your mouth. His blood trickles onto your lips, sliding into your mouth. After a few silent beats, your eyes shoot open. Muzan has never felt such joy as this very moment. Your arms wrap around his, bringing it into your mouth. Muzan hisses at the way your tongue dances around his wound, lapping up the blood he shed for you. You’re panting, gasping for more. Your eyes glow as you drag your tongue up the muscle of his forearm. His blood flows through you like your own life force, strengthening your nerves, hardening your muscles. He has made you stronger. 

It sends a pinch of desire through Muzan. He hadn’t felt the heat of wanting to sink his cock into the warmth of a cunt in decades. You were mouthing at his arm, wounds healed on both ends, but now that you were moving the once whole yukata falls off your shoulders. Blood trails from your lips down your chest, between your breasts. Muzan was never one to fend off his desire to want. He took whatever he wanted, without a care. He wanted to take you without a care. Fuck you senseless into the floorboards, claw at you, feed on your blood while you fed on his. It was ecstasy just imagining driving his cock into your pretty tight pussy. 

“I should’ve never left you.” He whispers and it sends a rolling wave of want through you. You move to straddle his lap. 

“Then don’t leave me now.” You could both smell it, the heat and arousal in the air. “Take me, my Lord.” He smirks, holding onto your thighs. 

He hums, enjoying the way you’re bare in front of him. You were a sight to behold. “Mmm, such a smart girl.” A portal opens underneath him, the wooden floor sinking into an expanse of rooms, platforms, doors, lights, and endless corridors. The sheer speed whips your hair around your face until – it doesn’t. You’ve stopped in the middle of whatever this place was. “Welcome home,” Muzan’s pink eyes darken to a deep crimson as he sits up straighter, pressing himself into you. You moan in delight as his hands work their way up your hips, sitting you down on the stiff part of his lap. 

You tilt your head, peeking at him. “I’ve never liked pants,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his. He chuckles his smirk growing. 

“And why is that?” He inquires, moving his tongue to lick up the blood that has traveled toward your navel. You choke out a moan as he makes his way between your breasts. You can feel his teeth against your skin and it’s a wretched thought. “Aheh,” He swipes at the crest of your breast. 

“H-hard to get off.” Muzan hums against your skin in agreement, but he’s too preoccupied with the way you tremble with untapped pleasure. 

He wants to tear into your flesh, mark you as his, burn only his name onto your tongue. “Such an eager kitten,” He licks his lips, capturing the back of your neck in his hands. “You want me bare that badly?” All you can manage is a small nod as he gingerly moves you so that you’re laying down. Your hips are still lined up with his as he gazes at you. “I can promise you I have a similar urgency.” He grins, pulling the belt from his breeches with a smooth movement. He tosses it to the side, but doesn’t make any more movements to pull his pants down. Muzan notices your heated gaze pointed toward his hardened groin. 

Did you know nothing about the workings between a man and woman? His eyes trail down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs. He wraps his arms around the bend of your knee, smirking when your eyes widen in surprise. He tugs you upwards, to where your legs are over his shoulders. Being this close to your glistening pink cunt made his groin stiffen even more, if that was possible. The smell of you was intoxicating. He couldn’t help himself. “What a fucking view.” He growls. 

Muzan buries his head between your thighs, latching his mouth onto your swelling clit. You gasp in pleasure, breaths turning into ragged moans as he plunges his tongue deeper into you. “O-oh my God, f’ck, ngh.” With the way his tongue his twisting and sucking inside of you, breathing seemed impossible. His claws dig into your outer thigh, scratching red trails to your knees. He devours every bit of you he can reach, crazed by the tangy sweetness of your arousal. Your walls were squeezing around his tongue, heat running through your body. 

Your own hands find your stiff nipples, rolling them around in your fingers. You couldn’t get enough, it was the same feeling you received from drinking his blood. Heat rolling around in your veins as his eyes take in your puffy cunt and how your eyes roll to the back of your head. He maneuvers one hand from under your knee to the one place that was being ignored on you – your entrance. It was like the gate to a shrine and he wanted to worship there for eternity. “Look at how fucking wet your cunt is.” His pointed nails shape into shorter rounder ones, he dare not damage this holy place. Then, without warning, he presses two fingers into you. A yelp echoes across the void of the infinity castle. “Ahhh, shit,” You huff, tensing from the sensation of your pussy being stretched. 

Muzan knew you were a virgin, he would be lying if the fact didn’t make him grow more feral to have you sit on his cock and take his seed deep within you. He wanted you. He wanted you. He wanted you. That was all he could think about while lapping up your wetness. 

The slick from your cunt was sucking his fingers in, a growl rumbling around your clit. This makes you scream out as a shockwave shoots through you. Your thighs are shaking and every once and a while – as Muzan still selfishly fingers you through your climax, sucking on your clit – your body will twitch. Heavy and heady moans fall from your lips, breaking into whines as you come down from your high. 

“You did such a good job my sweet,” Muzan lowers you gently back to the floor. Your neck is sore from being at an awkward angle for so long, but you would give anything to see the disheveled man before you with your arousal still on his lips. “That’s it. Prefect. You’re so perfect.” He mutters, licking his lips and watching you still play with your nipples. 

Though you feel like you’ve just ascended, you crave more. You want Muzan to breed you like his own personal slut. “M-more,” You gasp. “I feel so empty my Lord.” You huff, the edges of your voice bleeding to a whine. Muzan’s eyes widen. He hadn’t intended to fuck you just yet. Give you some time to grow accustomed to sexual things so it wasn’t rushed, but your eyes are pleading him to continue. He’s… nervous, which isn’t like the demon king. He’s so eager to please you. Make sure you’re comfortable. He wants to give you hell, heaven, and the earth. 

“You’re practically begging me.” He chuckles, unsure if you really knew what you were asking. There was no way that once Muzan slid into your heady cunt that he would not ravish you. There was no way to tell time in the infinity castle, so there was no way for him to know when to stop until he was satisfied. You squirm to get closer to him, spreading your legs wide for him. His gaze drops from yours to your center, whatever shred of humanity that was left in him suddenly flying away. “Such a filthy slut. You’re already hungry for more? You want me to fill you up? Then beg for it.” His eyes narrow into slits, the magma growing in his belly. 

Your body cools with a shiver of excitement, as you reach down in between your thighs. You purse your lips and then spread your labia apart. The cool air tickles the sticky wetness but you can tell it’s doing something for him. “Please, my King, I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t think. I want you to take my virgin pussy and make it yours.” 

The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smirk. “As you wish my Queen.” He frees his cock and you have to take a moment to gulp at the sheer size of it. The head is leaking precum and bruised a red color from the lack of release. The shaft is a pale pink, a thick vein running down the underside. The muscles of his hips also catch your attention. They were unlike the drawings some of the courtesans had shown you. His were muscular, ready to thrust into you for hours. 

Muzan lines himself up at your entrance, this time with the head of his cock. The idea was thrilling, finally pushing into your pussy and breaking the barrier of your womanhood. He hisses as your slick coats him, making it easy enough to start entering you. Your face contorts with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Shhh, you can take it.” You want to wiggle away from him, the pain of his member stretching you out is enough to break you. “Ah ah ah, you’re not going anywhere pretty girl. Remember you asked for this.” Muzan leans over you seizing your mouth with his own. You share a leisurely kiss as he swallows your moans. 

He feels the head of his cock hit your hymen and with a wince he thrusts past it. He can feel the rush of silky blood around his cock, but he tries his best to divert your attention with heated kisses. You break free, a long drawn out moan gasping out of you. “Ahhh, oh my, hngh nngh yes!” 

Muzan nuzzles into your neck, the feeling of your walls clenching around him driving him practically insane. “Yeah? Tell me how good I am. Tell me how good I am at fucking you.” He hisses out, desperate for your compliments and approval. 

“Nnnggh, s’good, f’ckin’ me s’good.” You slur, drunk on how he guided a new path into you. You pant and writhe under him, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Not yet my love, I want you to watch.” He starts to move his hips and you wince in burning pleasure. “That’s it. You’re doing so good.” He grunts, snapping his hips back into you. The wet slap of skin hitting skin sends shivers down your back. 

You’re straining against the build up in your stomach, a pit of coils wanting to spring forth. “Mmm, harder.” You huff, reach out to grab the back of his neck. He shakes his head, a playful smirk on his swollen lips. 

“Use your manners.” He teases, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Please fuck me harder.” You mewl just as he starts to thrust into you with a quickened rhythm. Your breath is sucked away by the pure bliss aching from the friction. 

Muzan bites down on his lip, brushing a few curls that had come free from behind his ear. “You like it when I do that?” He quizzes, fucking you harder. You can only manage a nod.

Your voice has grown hoarse from moans breaking into screams and whines. You buck your hips along with his as you arch your back, tumbling over your peak. “F’ck, haa haa hnngh,” You squeeze his cock and release his neck, breathless from your second orgasm. 

“Cum all over my cock, fuck,” Muzan growls, the feeling of your slick cum coating his length. He was gliding into you with such ease. He would apologize to you later for this. He pounds into your sensitive cunt, overstimulating you as you cry out. He rams himself into you and stays deep within your pussy. Panting heavily Muzan finally crashes over his own wave of pleasure. Splurting his cum around the walls of your pussy. He doesn’t want to pull out – for one fact he wanted all of his cum to stay within you – and for another fact, you were all the salvation he needed. He could find redemption with you. He rolls you both onto your side, hiking your leg over his hip to make sure he can stay inside of you. 

This was it, you had driven him to the edge and he would make sure to never let anything else touch you. As he gazes upon your soft features drifting off to a satisfied slumber he feels what once was his heart ache. “We should get married.” He blurts out.

[russo-woso]

Celebrating || Alessia Russo

Masterlist | Prompt list

Request balcony sex during away game

Warning smut 18+, dom!lessi, fingering, cunnilingus, strap

Summary You and Alessia find a way of celebrating after winning.

The lionesses had just one 2-0 over France in Paris.

It had been a perfect match, England having been the dominant side the whole game and it showed at the final scoreline.

Both Alesia and you had scored, both of you having assisted each other’s goals too.

When the group talk was over, you immediately searched the pitch for alessia, quickly setting eyes on her and jumping on her back.

“Hi, baby!” You exclaimed, pressing a kiss just under her ear.

“Hi, love. You played so well today.” Alessia said, hoisting you further onto her back and walking the pitch with you on her back.

“So did you, lessi.” You whispered, burying your face in her neck.

“Changing rooms?” Alessia asked, stroking your inner thighs as she held you up.

Alessia was a touchy person, you always knew that, but you knew the different type of touches.

And them touches were ones that told you that tonight would be a long night.

—

“We’ve got such a good view, don’t we?”You questioned alessia who laid on the bed.

You were on the balcony at the hotel staring out at the Eiffel Tower which was lit up.

“I’ve got a better view.” Alessia said. You could hear the smirk in her voice.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

Alessia got up and walked towards you, grabbing your hips and leaning in so you could feel her hot breath on your face.

“You.” She whispered

“I don’t believe you.” You replied, a smile now on your face too.

“Want me to show you? I can show the whole of Paris how pretty you are too.” Alessia murmured, reaching for the bottom of your oversized shirt, which was the only piece of clothing you were wearing along with your bra, and pulling it over your head.

“You’ve planned this out, haven’t you? I bet you’re been wearing the—” before you could even finish your sentence, alessia grabbed your hand and rested on the strap she was wearing.

“It’s been on my mind since we got back to the hotel.”

“You dirty girl.” You whispered in her ear

You moved your head so you were looking her in the eyes.

Her natural ocean blue eyes had turned dark like the night sky.

“What are you thinking?” You asked her, pressing a kiss to her nose.

“You want to know what I’m thinking?” She questioned as you nodded. “I want you leaned over the railing, me fucking the life out of you as you scream my name for the whole of Paris to hear.”

You looked at her with wide eyes, her sudden burst of confidence shocking you.

“Okay.” You replied, a lingering smirk on your face.

“Okay?” Alessia asked, her turn to be shocked by you saying yes.

“Sure, baby.” You pressed your lips to her cheek, before pulling her shirt over her head.

“Fuck, can I take your bra off?” She asked, reaching for the back after you nodded.

She attached her mouth to your right nipple, sucking and biting at it.

You hummed in contentment, playing with the baby hairs on her neck.

“Feels so good, lessi.”

“You’re so perfect.” Alessia mumbled against your left nipple, sucking harshly, definitely leaving a mark. “Over the railing now.”

You obliged, leaning over and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, so so perfect.” Alessia muttered, falling to her knees as she flattened her tongue against your pussy.

Your knees almost buckled at the contact, her name falling from your lips effortlessly.

She lapped at your folds, before sucking at your clit.

You rested a hand over your mouth, trying your hardest not to moan.

“Let them hear you, baby. Want everyone to know you’re mine.” Alessia said, pulling your hand away from your mouth.

You let out a moan that was almost pornographic as alessia stuck her middle finger into your pussy.

“Yes! Fuck, less.” You moaned, grabbing at her hair.

Her fingers continued to thrust in and out of you whilst her tongue flicked at your clit.

“Oh god — yes, less — fuck!” Your legs spasmed around her head as you came with a cry.

“Stay there, baby.” Alessia said, pulling down her trousers to reveal the strap.

Your mouth watered at the sight, desperate to feel her in you.

“Are you okay?��� Alessia asked, pulling a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Perfect.”

“Ready?”

“Ready.” You confirmed, nodding your head as she lined the tip up with your pussy.

Slowly and gently, she pushed the strap into you.

You grabbed the railing as she bottomed out, the feeling overwhelming your body.

“Such a good girl taking my dick.” Alessia purred, thrusting in and out gently before speeding up her pace.

The moans escaping your mouth were pornographic, being thrown out for the whole of Paris to hear.

You gripped the railing harder, supporting yourself up due to your legs feeling weak and shaky.

Alessia leaned forward, pressing kisses to your back as her hand found your clit.

You hissed when her fingers circled your clit, the overstimulation from when she ate you out still there.

“Doing such a good job for me, pretty girl.” Alessia told you, rubbing your back.

She pounded into you harder than ever, your legs starting to shake.

“Fuck! Less, right there! Fuck I’m gonna cum!” You screamed, your legs liked jelly.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum on my dick.”

You let go, coming around alessia with a cry.

She rubbed your back through it, gently thrusting in and out.

“Did so so good.” Alessia whispered, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“I know you’re both like horny teenage boys, but please can you give it a rest. Some of us are trying to sleep.” Leah shouted from the balcony below you.

You and alessia looked at each other, embarrassed.

“Shit.”

[icyminghao]

workplace crush

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader genre: fluff, workplace!au warning(s): brief mentions of food word count: 1k

summary: jeon wonwoo, also known as the company’s “IT Department Crush”, doesn’t seem to faze you in the slightest, much to your best friend’s dismay.

a/n: meant to be the couple from here, but can also be read as a standalone

���Oh my god! There he is again, look!” Minhee, your childhood best friend and current colleague at work, exclaims suddenly, tapping your arm with a newfound fervor.

“Who?” you deadpan, poking at your lunch with your fork.

“It’s Jeon Wonwoo! Sejeong really wasn’t kidding when she said he was the IT Department’s eye-candy,”

The name raises an eyebrow, but you’re quick to shake it off and regain control of your poker face.

“Jeon Wonwoo, huh? He looks okay,” you reply without turning to look at the subject of the conversation.

“Just okay? Come on, y/n! Just because you have a boyfriend doesn’t mean you can’t admit that Mr. White Button-down over there is hot as shit,” Minhee scoffs in amusement as she urges you to sneak a glance at the man of the hour. Deciding to appease your friend, you turn around to do just that and find the acclaimed Jeon Wonwoo sitting at a nearby table with a few other people, presumably his colleagues. He’s dressed in a white button-down with rolled up sleeves and a pair of navy-blue jeans, and to top it all off, he’s sporting a pair of horn-rimmed glasses you’ve never seen anyone pull off better than him.

“My boyfriend’s hotter,” you shrug, going back to eating your food. Minhee purses her lips in thought at the response.

“Is he? Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him,” she muses.

“You haven’t? No way,” you respond immediately, quick to wave off Minhee’s observation.

“What do you mean, ‘no way’? You haven’t introduced your boyfriend to any of us! I’ve been dying to see who exactly met your sky-high standards,” Minhee whines, much to your amusement.

“You’d be surprised,” you chuckle and look up to see that Minhee’s attention has been diverted to something (or someone) behind you.

“Pause. Don’t look, but Mr. IT Department Crush is coming our way right now,” Minhee’s voice drops an octave as she whispers through gritted teeth, eyes widened in warning. You suppress an amused smile at her behaviour and watch as a certain Jeon Wonwoo takes a seat beside you. All the while, Minhee looks on the situation with a wide-open mouth as you try your hardest to hold in your laughter.

“Hey, y/n,” Wonwoo greets you as he settles down, then turns to nod at Minhee, who nods back in equal parts confusion and awe, “Jeonghan was wondering whether you wanted to join us for karaoke night later?”

“Sorry, Wonwoo, but I have plans with Minhee tonight. Maybe next time?” you frown apologetically at having to reject Wonwoo’s proposal, but he simply nods in response, flashing you the smallest of smiles in return.

“It’s okay. I’ll see you later?” he hums in response before nodding once again at Minhee in greeting and leaving, presumably to return to his colleagues at the IT Department.

Silence ensues as you and Minhee blink at each other for a solid minute or so, before Minhee lets out a huge breath and breaks the silence.

“Did you just… have a whole conversation with the IT Department Crush? You never told me you knew him!” Minhee whisper-shouts, slapping your arm lightly for dramatic effect. You rub your arm and feign an injury, to which Minhee simply pouts at you in response.

“You never asked!” you reason.

“No wonder you didn’t bat an eye when I talked about him!” Minhee huffs, crossing her arms as she squints at you. You shrug, bursting into laughter at Minhee’s behaviour.

“Whatever. My girlfriend’s hotter, anyway.”

“y/n…” Minhee suddenly drawls halfway through your meal with her, and you hum in amusement.

“Earlier, what did IT Department Crush mean by ‘see you later’? You’ve been with me the whole time since lunch break and we’re off work now,” Minhee furrows her eyebrows in thought, and you tilt your head in confusion, trying to recall the interaction.

“He did? Must have been a slip of the tongue,” you shrug nonchalantly, and Minhee leans forward, putting on a look that you know she always puts on whenever she’s about to analyse something (or someone).

“The two of you seem close,” she muses, clearly suspicious, much to your amusement.

“You could say that,” you hum, pursing your lips together. Minhee purses her lips together in thought before shrugging in response.

“Eh. Anyway, did you see the boss’s new outfit today? I’m dying to know where she got it from,” your best friend is quick to change the topic, and the subject of a certain eye-candy of the IT Department is quickly forgotten for the rest of the dinner with Minhee.

“How are you going home tonight? We could give you a ride, my girlfriend’s coming soon.” Minhee asks after the both of you had stepped out of the restaurant, greeted by the glittering moonlight shining down on the streets bustling with nightlife.

“Oh, it’s okay, my boyfriend’s coming over,” you politely reject Minhee’s offer just as a white sedan pulls up in front of you. Minhee sighs.

“There goes my chance of meeting your mystery of a boyfriend,” Minhee fake-whines, “I’ll see you next week, okay? Let us see him soon!”

“Yeah, yeah, I will!” you chuckle, waving Minhee and her girlfriend goodbye as they drive off, leaving you alone on the street.

Shortly after, you hear the familiar roar of an engine, and your boyfriend pulls up in his navy blue coupe, rolling down the passenger window to send you a greeting smile.

“Hey, darling,” you greet as you enter his car, settling down before looking at him in entirety. He’s still wearing the same white button-down from earlier, but his hair looks a bit tousled as compared to how neat it was just this morning. You reach forward and ruffle his locks just because.

“How was today?” Wonwoo grins at the touch, giving you a small peck on the cheek before driving again.

“Well, I heard from Minhee that you’ve garnered quite the reputation in the company,” you decide to tease him.

“I have?” Wonwoo replies, confused.

“They call you the IT Department Crush,” you explain, watching him closely for a reaction.

“I guess that’s pretty accurate, considering you had a crush on me,” Wonwoo chuckles, reaching a hand out to rest on your thigh affectionately.

“You had a crush on me first! Must I remind you how Soonyoung-”

“Okay, baby, you win,” Wonwoo concedes, “I had a crush on you first.”

“It’s okay, darling,” you giggle, “We had a crush on each other.”

Wonwoo groans. “You’re lame.”

a/n 2: 230926 jeon wonwoo you will be the death of me (also this was pretty bad i’m sorry lol)

taglist: @slytherinshua @xomingyu @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia @kwantaro @chanceonceli

masterlist

[xothatnerdykid]

guilty as sin

You're a dedicated nurse who loves their job even when it means taking care of stubborn, battle-worn pro-heroes (or maybe especially then). Aizawa Shouta x gn!reader. Set between S6 & S7. Fluff, slight angst with comfort. SFW, 2k words.

The sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air as you walk down the pristine white hallways of Central Hospital. The raid against the Paranormal Liberation Front had left the medical facility overcrowded, understaffed, and bustling with activity. You yourself had been working tirelessly for the last 24 hours straight to care for the numerous injured heroes and civilians. 

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders, your feet dragging slightly with each step. Your shift was supposed to have ended hours ago, and you were more than ready to clock out and get some much-needed rest. However, there was just one patient left to see.

You knock at the door. 

"Good morning," you greet the man lying down on the bed. You don't have the strength to muster a smile, but that's okay. He doesn't seem to either. 

Instead, he gives you a familiar nod. "Good morning."

He was a brooding, reserved man of a few words. With dark hair and even darker eyes - well, eye, the other being wrapped in bandages - he looked more tired than you some days. You can't fault him for that though. You knew he had been at the front lines of the battle that day and had paid a heavy price for it. 

He sits up as you come closer, approaching his bedside. The room is quiet, save for the soft beeping of the machines monitoring his vitals.

"How are you feeling today?"

He shrugs. "I've been better. I've been worse."

"I can see that," you nod, noting the way his complexion is less pale and his hair less unruly today compared to the past week. You open the blinds for him, warm light streaming into the dim room. “More sunlight ought to be good for you.”

“Mhm,” is all he says, blinking up at the bright, blue sky out the window. 

You take that as your cue to go about your usual tasks silently, adjusting his IV, checking his bandages, writing down his vitals. 

Then, out of the blue, he says, “You’ve been working long hours lately. You should get some rest.” 

"Believe me, I will. Just as soon as you're taken care of first."

"I'm fine,” he responds in a clipped, dismissive tone of voice.

“Fine or not, it's my job to make sure you’re comfortable and healing properly. You went through a lot, losing an eye and a leg. Frankly, I’m not sure we should go through with discharging you tomorrow.”

He heaves a tired sigh, “Like I said, I’ve been better, but I’ve been worse, too.” 

Frowning, you sit down on the bedside chair and take a moment to look at him. Despite his stoic facade, you can see the toll all those years of being a hero have taken on him, especially the past few weeks. The dark circles under his remaining eye, the weary lines and scars etched into his face. The worried, pained look that lingers even when he's trying to relax. 

"You know, it's okay to admit that you're not feeling great. From what I've been told, it seems like you've been through hell and back."

He shrugs again, leaning back against the pillows with a wince that he tries to hide. "It comes with the job. If anyone deserves your concern, it's my students."

“It must be hard, seeing them fight in a war. They’re just children, after all.”

He nods grimly, his mouth a tight line. "And because of this—" he touches the bandages covering his eye "—my quirk is pretty much useless now, especially on the villains we’re up against.”

He doesn't say it, but you can hear it in the tightness of his voice, his clenched jaw, his hands fisting the bedsheet. You know what he really means: “I'm useless now."

You want to reach out to touch him, maybe place your hand atop his, but you're not sure if he'd welcome such a gesture, especially from someone he's only known for a short time. You settle for a few sympathetic words instead, folding your hands in your lap. 

"Aizawa-san, do you honestly think your quirk is the only thing that makes you a hero? You've done so much for your students, for so many people. You're a mentor and a role model to these kids. I'm sure they trust and look up to you more because of this, not less.”

He looks at you for a long moment, that same unreadable expression on his face.

"I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t protect them the way I used to."

"Maybe not, but even without your quirk, you have your experience, your wisdom, and a heart that cares deeply for them. That's more than enough."

Instead of responding, he stares silently up at the ceiling. You don't push him, resigning to let the moment simply stretch out. After all, this is the most you've ever talked to him the whole week.

As he gets lost in his thoughts, you find yourself mentally tracing the contours of his face, where the sunlight bathes his skin in a soft, warm glow. It accentuates the strong lines of his jaw, his nose. Softens the look in his dark eyes. 

You take a quiet breath, surprised by the fluttering sensation in your chest. It's an odd time and place to notice something like this, but you can’t deny there's a certain rugged handsomeness to him.

You shift your weight, feeling a little self-conscious about your own thoughts. It’s unprofessional, you chide yourself, to think of a patient this way. But the inexplicable attraction you feel for the man before you is unmistakeable.

Aizawa turns slightly, catching you off guard as his eyes meet yours. When he finally speaks again, his voice is softer, almost contemplative. 

“It's strange. There was a time in my life when I wouldn't have cared what happened to me in the line of duty, whether I lived or died. But now...I want to live for those kids. My kids.”

You manage a wobbly smile even as your heart aches at his words. "Your students are lucky to have someone who cares about them so much."

“You remind me of them a little bit.” He lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling softly in the quiet room. “Determined, stubborn, always insisting on helping.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

The corner of his lips quirk up, and the realization that he might actually be teasing you sends your heart aflutter. 

“Mostly good,” he murmurs. “A little bit troublesome for me though.”

“Yeah?” You bite back a smirk. “You’ve been a bit troublesome for me, too, you know.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back against the pillows. “Is that so? And how do you propose I make it up to you, then?”

Maybe it’s the huskiness of his voice, the quiet intensity of his gaze, or the faint smile tugging at his lips, but something about him in this moment makes your stomach freefall. And you’re suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss him, passionately and spontaneously, as if afraid to see sense. 

You know you shouldn't indulge this, should put a stop to this train of thought before it gains too much momentum. You’re thankful you manage to keep your voice steady despite the rush of blood pounding in your ears. 

“Well, Aizawa-san, you could start by taking me out to dinner. Dealing with a patient as stubborn as you has its price, you know.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you wonder if you’ve made a terrible mistake. But then his gaze flickers down to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and you feel your breath hitch. He tilts his head, his expression thoughtful yet guarded, as if trying to read between the lines of your playfulness.

“I suppose,” he concedes softly. “But you might find that I’m not as interesting as you think, Y/N. I’m just a man who cares about the people in his life and does what he can to protect them.”

"That's exactly what I like about you.” Your voice drops to a whisper, your hand lightly brushing against his.

He groans softly, and you feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the sound. He rubs his hand down his face, seemingly weighing his options. 

It’s not too late, you assure yourself in a rush of anxious thoughts. You haven’t crossed any lines you can’t go back on, haven’t overstepped the delicate boundary between patient and nurse, between flirtation and something more. 

“Will you let me kiss you at the end of the date?”

Oh.

The line is a dot now.

You swallow hard and — heart pounding in your chest, everything else spinning dizzyingly out of focus — you rush forward to close the distance between you, pressing your lips urgently against his. 

The spark you felt before intensifies into an electrifying current now, racing down your spine as he tangles one hand in your hair and another holds you by the nape. He tilts your head back to kiss you deeper, his lips hungrily exploring yours, and you feel drunk on the pleasure of his touch, the intoxicating scent of his skin and his aftershave.

The softness of his lips contrasts with the roughness of his stubble, sending shivers of delight coursing through you. His mouth is warm and inviting, and you lose yourself in the sensation of his kiss, the way he breathes you in, the quiet sighs of pleasure that escape both of you. 

Your mind spins with the realization of how much you’ve wanted this and how many ill-advised daydreams you’ve had of him these past few weeks. When you finally break apart for air, you keep your forehead pressed against his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. The sound of your blood rushing in your ears drowns out the rhythmic beeping of the machines around you, and for a moment, the world feels narrowed down to just the two of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” Your breath comes in ragged gasps. Your fingers gingerly touch your lips, which are pursed in surprise. “That was reckless of me. I shouldn’t have.”

Aizawa blinks at you, his dark eyes wide and dazed, like he’s trying to process what just happened. He licks his lips, a gesture that sends a fresh wave of warmth through your body.

“Do you…” His voice is husky, tinged with uncertainty. “Do you regret it?”

“No, of course not,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I only regret not doing it at a better time.”

His eyes widen slightly in surprise before softening, the tension in his shoulders seemingly melting away. 

"Good," he murmurs, reaching for you, his thumb cradling your jaw and tracing small, soothing circles on your skin. “Because I’d like to do it again—”

He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And again—”

He brushes his lips teasingly against yours, feather-light and promising of more.

“And again.”

The admission sends a thrill through you, a rush of joy and excitement that makes your pulse quicken. "All the more reason to look forward to dinner, I suppose. After you get better, that is."

He chuckles softly. "Shouldn't be a problem, seeing as how I have an excellent nurse taking care of me."

"Mmmhm. Speaking of, is there anything else I can do to make you…more comfortable before I leave?” You can't help but ask, a playful lilt in your voice.

He captures your lips in a delicate kiss, so sweet and tender, like a dream barely skimming the surface of reality. You've finally calmed down enough to hear the sound of his heart rising, betrayed by the loudening beep of the machine. His hand trails down your arm and he laces his fingers with yours, smiling against your lips. 

“I can think of a few things.”

[milla-frenchy]

October

2k3 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist

Summary: autumn is here, and you always loved that season. This year, you will probably love it even more Warnings: none, fluff. Meet cute, soft!Javi, book lovers, cats, alt POVs. No age specified.

a/n: this is written for @jolapeno & @goodwithcheese 's fall challenge. I ordered Peña’s Pumpkin Latte and A fall walk 🎃🍂🍁

@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing and everything, as always 💕🫶 dividers @steddiecameraroll-graphics 🙏

Autumn has always been your favorite season. The cooler temperatures, cardigans, blankets on the couch. The thicker socks. You loved staying in and watching the leaves fall from your couch. Drinking coffee or hot chocolate, your cat on your lap.

You also loved going to bookstores or cafes, walking on the fallen leaves on the ground. Listening to their crunch under your feet. The streets painted in a mix of red, orange, brown colors were beautiful. The first rains didn't even bother you.

That Saturday, you took your notebag and the book you were currently reading and headed to one of your favorite places. To get a coffee sprinkled with chocolate powder, and to eat some of those ghost-shaped cookies that the owner cooked every year, from October to November. You finished your book there and decided to get a new one, so you walked to your usual bookstore. The one where the owner's cat sleeps on the books. He's beautiful, black and white. He lets you scratch his ears every time you go there, purring so hard that it always makes you smile.

It started to rain and you forgot your umbrella, so while waiting for the rain to stop, you picked three books from the shelves, and sat down in one of the armchairs to choose one of them. You turned the pages and the smell of old paper rose up to your nostrils. You loved that scent.

“Good choice,” you heard.

You turned your head towards the man who just spoke to you. Dark hair, mustache, black coat. He had two books in his hand. You'd never seen him there before.

“Your book,” he added to answer your questioning look, pointing at it. “It’s one of my favorites.”

His smile was warm, friendly. His eyes were a curious contrast of seriousness mixed with a twinkle.

“Oh, right, the book,” you replied, smiling. “Yeah, I’ve read great reviews about it. I just finished my last one and I am looking for a new one.”

“It's bittersweet, a little sad but very beautiful. If you're not afraid of a rollercoaster of emotions, it's perfect.”

“Well, I’m gonna follow your advice and buy it. Thank you…?” 

“Javi,” he responded, smiling again.

“Thank you, Javi,” you replied, and told him your name. “The rain has stopped, I’m gonna go. Have a good day!”

“Thanks, you too.”

You paid for the book and left quickly, seeing that new threatening clouds were approaching.

On Sunday, you walked to the park near your house. The weather was way better that day, the sky all blue. You sat on a bench sheltered by hedges that had grown well since last spring, put a blanket you brought on your knees and began reading  your book. 

You started it the night before, and you were glad you followed the advice of that man, Javi. The book suited your tastes perfectly. 

You stayed in the park until it started to get a little chilly, the blanket not enough to keep you warm, then you gathered your things and left. 

On your way back home, a curious black kitten approached you. Its fur was a bright contrast to the orange leaves on the ground.

“What are you doing here all alone, kitty?” you asked him, crouched and scratched his chin. He rubbed against your legs, purring, then left as quickly as he‘d arrived.

As you got up, you saw Javi on the other sidewalk and waved at him.

“Hi!” he greeted you, walking towards you. “You enjoyed some quiet time in the park?” he asked, pointing at your blanket.

“Yeah, I wanted to enjoy the nice weather. I go to the park every Sunday afternoon when I can. I started to read the book!” you added.

“Oh great! What do you think?”

“I really love it so far. Thank you for the recommendation.”

He smiled at you. He was cute. And handsome.

You smiled at him too. And for a few seconds you were just smiling at each other. Those slightly silly smiles that you share when you meet someone and want to know them better.

“I was going to have a coffee, do you wanna come?” he finally asked you, breaking the silence.

“Sure.”

You had never usually had coffee with strangers, but you felt like you already knew him a little. As if the fact that you had the similar tastes in books had helped you to take the leap.

He told you he always drank black coffee, but wanted to try something new, so he ordered a pumpkin spice latte. You laughed when you saw him wrinkle his nose after tasting it.

“I’m gonna stick with my usual,” he chuckled.

You spent the afternoon there, talking about whatever you could think of. Your jobs, your families, your lives, your hobbies. He had moved into the neighborhood a couple weeks ago and didn't know anyone there.

You parted ways, saying “see you soon”.

The following Saturday, you hoped to run into him. At the bookstore or at the café. Or in the neighborhood. You didn't see him and you were a little sad about it. You had often thought about him during the week.

On Sunday, you went to the park. It was a beautiful autumn day. To your pleasant surprise, Javi was waiting for you. With pastries and two coffees.

“Too creepy?” he asked with a cute, almost shy smile, as you stopped surprised in front of him.

“No… too cute,” you grinned, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He was dressed in black. Coat, sweater, pants. He was really handsome. You couldn't believe he was waiting for you there, that he remembered what you said about loving to come there every Sunday afternoon.

You drank your coffees and ate the pastries, sitting on the bench, your blanket on both of you.

He told you he bought furniture the day before, that he finished putting it together late at night. As if he was trying to explain why you didn't see each other yesterday.

“I'm glad to see you today,” you told him.

“Me too.” He looked at you, his eyes landing briefly on your lips. Smiling shyly afterwards, as if to apologize.

You saw each other for the next three weeks, every Saturday and Sunday. Doing fall walks to the cafe, bookstore, park. Every day of the week, you looked forward to the weekend. Aware that you were slowly falling in love with Javi, even if you didn't show it. You weren’t sure if he had feelings for you.

One day, you didn’t know what pushed you to do it, but you couldn't resist and you kissed him under your umbrella. He had just caressed your cheek, and his eyes were the only thing you were able to see. As if everything else had disappeared. 

He kissed you back, his lips pressing against yours, his soft mustache against your skin. You didn't talk about it, didn't want to. You just loved being with him and everything had been perfect so far.

He was always calm, reassuring and didn't rush you. You liked that he didn't feel compelled to fill in the blanks in your conversations.

“Did you see that the café is closed for renovations next Saturday?” he asked at the park, that last Sunday.

“Yes…” you looked down at your feet. You didn’t want to spend a Saturday without seeing him, so you gathered some courage. “Would you like to come and have coffee at my place?”

“I’d love to,” he added quickly, as if he was relieved to know you wanted to see him too.

You gave him your address, and added, “it's the last house on the right. The one with the pumpkins, electric garlands and candles in the living room window.”

He smiled and said “see you Saturday, Hermosa,” before leaving.

Javi wasn’t expecting to meet anyone with whom everything seemed so easy. Not so fast, not so smooth. That Saturday at the bookstore, he saw you a few seconds after the bell on the door rang, announcing an entrance. Always used to analyze every situation, every noise around him. He had done nothing but that for decades. Some habits were hard to break.

You went straight to the cat sleeping on the books, awake as soon as you had lulled him with your soft words “hey kitty, how's your day going? You're such a good boy, always taking care of those books. You love their smell, don’t you? I love it too.” 

He heard the cat purring from where he was. Javi wasn't a cat person, he preferred dogs, but found it rather cute, that loud purring sound.

He had thought back to Puff, Steve and Connie's cat. Fucking sicarios.

His years at the DEA would haunt him for years, probably for his entire life, he knew it. He had tried to work on his father's ranch, but everything reminded him of the DEA. His childhood, his teenage bedroom. The discussions with his parents about his desire to join the agency. Lorraine. He wondered what he had missed, even though he did not regret his years in Columbia. He had done the best he could.

He had thought that maybe he would recover faster if he left Laredo. If there were fewer people who spoke Spanish around him. He needed a change of life, so he had moved to the other side of the country.

And then you arrived in his life, kind of. 

When he saw you, holding his favorite book in your hands, his heart skipped a beat. There were two other books on your lap, but you were looking at his favorite. He didn’t hesitate long before coming up to talk to you. As if that book was some kind of a sign that he had to meet you.

On Sunday, he saw you sitting on a bench in the park, immersed in the book. He didn't want to disturb you, so he waited for you to leave and came to meet you while you were crouching next to a cat in the street. You really were a cat person.

The smile you gave him reached his heart a little too fast. As if you were a constant in his new life. Already. 

It could seem silly, he didn't know you. But he didn't really remember what a normal life was, either. With no drugs, no guns, no threats, no deaths. You were none of that. Maybe that was the reason why he never felt the urge to be grumpy or sassy around you.

The following Saturday he went to buy the last pieces of furniture he was missing in his apartment. He started to assemble them, without realizing how much time was passing. Until he saw that night had almost fallen. He ran to the café, to the bookstore, to the park, but he didn't see you. It was too late.

He cursed between his teeth, and hoped to meet you the next day. Yes, the next day, if the weather was nice, he would go to the park.

He smiled when he woke up the next morning, seeing the blue sky. He waited for the afternoon, then bought two coffees and some pastries. Hoping that you would be there.

You greeted him with a big, beautiful smile when you saw him. Thanking him for what he had brought. And damn, you had a charming smile.

Then, you saw each other every weekend, all October. Each week passed too slowly for his liking, while each moment in your presence passed at the speed of light.

One Saturday, in that café, he didn’t even realize that he had rested his head on his hand, turned towards you, and that he was drinking in your words. You were so close. It made you smile shily. He wondered if you were as enamored as he was. 

But he didn't want to move too fast, didn't really want to know if you were. It had been a long time since he had spent such moments with a woman. Someone who wasn't related to his job. Since high school, probably?

He didn’t want to know, but when you came out of the cafe and it started to rain, you opened your umbrella and offered him a cover rom the rain under it. Your eyes plunged into his, and he couldn’t resist the urge to brush your cheek covered in a few drops of water with his thumb. Your eyes slid from his eyes to his lips, and you bit yours. He didn’t move, not wanting to break the moment. Not wanting to go too fast. But he let you get closer to him, until your lips landed on his, offering the softest kiss he had ever received. He felt his cock throb, tightened in his pants. It was happening to him more and more when he was with you, but he didn't want to think about it. He wanted to put his arm around your shoulders to protect you from the cold, but he didn't dare. 

Though, he couldn't help himself from resting his hand on the small of your back, brushing it over your coat. He felt you getting closer to him and you walked without speaking. The silence wasn't awkward at all, and he loved that.

That last Sunday, when you offered him to have coffee at your place, he didn’t hesitate for long. He wasn’t so sure if he wanted to take his time anymore.

He knocked on your door and when you opened it, he held out a book.

“This is my second favorite, if you want to give it a try,” he said. As if he was not really talking about giving a try to that book, but to him.

You smiled, pulled him by the collar towards you and kissed him.

He definitely didn’t want to take his time anymore, and apparently neither did you.

Javi p masterlist

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[bonesandchalamet]

admission - azriel

masterlist | pairing: azriel x fem!reader summary: a man who never shares his secrets learns how to admit the truth. warnings: none (at least to my knowledge) a/n: I’ve spent the last month reading acotar series and I’ve fallen in love with azriel 🫣 I’ve been MIA bc school but I’m back!!

those dark black eyes.

if you’d been oblivious, you’d take them as just azriel being distant, and cold. but spending centuries along side him, those eyes yearned for something you could never place a finger on.

he doesn’t show much expression, that was a given, but azriel showed a lot more to you in past months than he’d shown his own friends.

maybe it was always because he could feel you reading right through him. you saw exhaustion, anger, and disappointment where others saw a mask of him.

he couldn’t shy away from you, he’d given up all his fighting to let you work yourself into him and ease the pain or burden.

“Rita’s?” cassian turned to azriel, his eyes glimmer with a playful excitement that he could never mimic back. his dear friend had a way of making him stay out, dance or drink until the pinks and blues danced across the sky.

“pass.” was all azriel could get himself to say. the whole dinner he was silent, often how it went, but your eyes played a conversation that nobody else was apart of. your own secret language.

“y/n?”

shaking your head, you catch Mor’s frown, but she understood. in someway, you think she caught onto you and azriel, but if she did she was silent. and if anybody caught onto it they knew azriel wouldn’t fight them, but rather show them to never speak a word about it. protective, he’d once called it, idiocy is what you saw it as.

swirling the wine in your glass, you take a final sip before dismissing yourself from the long evening. your home was only a block away, and having spent all morning training feyre with cassian, you were exhausted.

azriel would stay longer. he’d stay until cassian and mor left for Rita’s and then find his way home to you. it’d been a day of reporting to his spies and keeping his head down until dinner time where he could actually enjoy something: you.

public affection was not azriel. even if it was, he’d never show his vulnerability to the world and risk losing you. he spent the better half of his life fighting darkness, only to have it wiped away the second you entered his life. it was evident to his friends he was much lighter in previous times, but he’d always shrugged it off and told them there was a price for prying into his life.

“headed out soon?” feyre was the first to bite, her body swaying in the seat beside rhys, a bit tipsy off the wine.

shrugging was his typical answer, and that’s what he’d given her in hopes the conversation would change, and luckily amren could read a room. unlike a few others at the table.

another hour passed and Rita’s seemed to be the next stop for the group. azriel joined them on the way out the door, but instead of heading into town he headed to you. he’d let them have that bit of knowledge, even if he knew tomorrow would be another round of begging for information.

instead of winnowing in, he takes the front door, allows you to listen to the lock of the door, his boots clattering against the wood floors. he knows all time spent signaling his arrival, is time you spent readying for him.

the creeks of the wood from below bring a flutter to your heart. you pull back the white silk sheets, fluff his pillow like you always do, and seat yourself on the edge of the bed waiting for the dark fuming cloud to whisk away into your arms.

“long day?” you ask watching him slip into your room and immediately discard his black shirt off his back. your arms were outstretched for him, and he moves towards you allowing your warmth to work its way into his body until he was nothing but mush and happiness.

your soft delicate fingers worked the muscles of his body, allowing him to lean into your touch, he rants about the little things he wouldn’t dare tell anybody else.

“what about you?” his voice a faint whisper into the air, “your day, I mean.”

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lips pressing against his rough skin, “better now.”

“you can always tell me more.” azriel sits up out of your grip, he spins away from your body, turning so you’re both facing each other, “I listen well.”

a chuckle escapes your lips before you press them onto his, “you hold too many secrets, az, I’d never burden you with more.”

his brows furrow, “burden?” the words echo off his lips like it was a new word and he’d never heard it before, “you could never.”

you bite your bottom lip, as if contemplating to tell him how training feyre was more like an ass beating or how cassian makes you want to bang his head into wall and shove him down a flight of stairs. though, you’d never tell him the worst of it all. you could tell him always the little things.

he takes your silence away, lips pressing hard against yours, a gasp is your reaction. his fingers work the little bit of lace you’d left on for him, and suddenly you’re back is pressed against the sheets, his membranous wings are coddling you like a cocoon.

“a secret for a secret.” he whispers in the dark purple and black enclosure, his eyes are all you can see beside some faint outlines of his face.

“you first,” you whisper into the darkness, your fingers pressed against his warm skin wishing to pull him closer.

“I think I always knew I loved you.” he whispered into the darkness. he couldn’t see your eyes, you must’ve closed them to give him the privacy for admission, but when you open them, deep swirls of violet and black stare into yours with passion, “your turn.”

“i wish you let me love you for the world to see.” you say looking up for the white walls, but only to find the darkness of his wings surrounding you.

“did you know you can’t mask your face like me?” he removes himself from around you, allowing the bright lights of the night sky to return to your vision and the white walls to ache after darkness.

you roll your eyes. the countless hours of him trying, but failing, to get you to to hide your facial expressions weren’t a reminder of it all. you could never hide your love or even far worse expressions from the world to see.

“I say this, because they already know.” he emphasizes. you’d had small hints of the inner circle knowing, but you’d brushed it off as just another way to get under your skin because Azriel always put the group in their place.

“mor knows, at least suspects.” you turn your attention to him. you read him in the way he hates, but so desperately loves. you can feel his hesitation to touch you, but when you reach out and place your hair down his torso, he reaches for your cheek.

“mor knows you’re my mate.” a breath hitches in him before he continues, “and Rhys acts like he doesn’t know, but he’s also just like you,” he taps his finger against your nose, his face inching closer, “horrible with facial expressions.”

you attempt to roll away from him, before he pulls you back into his body, a perfect fit for his, “so now will you tell me what’s bothering you? I’ve admitted far too much tonight.” his lips hover your neck, his warmth heats your body that you can’t help but sink into it.

“I suppose I can.”

[so-mordor-itis]

Eye on You

“give peace a chance, let the fear you have fall away, i’ve got my eye on you. say yes to heaven, say yes to me.

if you go, I’ll stay.. you come back, I’ll be right here. like a barge at sea, in the storm I stay clear, cause I’ve got my mind on you”

I told you I'd write a drabble but uhhhhh this ain't no drabble- @unhealthy-leon-brainrot

1998.

Leon loved differently back then. He loved in a way a 21 year old man freshly graduated from college could. He was giddy whenever the person in his interest would smile at him, would give him any time of day. His hands would become clammy, and his heart would race as if he were still a teenager. Sometimes, he truly felt like one at heart. That his soul was trapped in that time period, and it wouldn't ever leave.

It's why when he met you for the first time, and when you smiled at him as if nothing could go wrong, his face burned, and his heart almost burst right then and there. You were a brilliant flame, and he felt like a small candle stick awaiting to be lit.

He asked you out in a sputter of words, hating himself immediately after listening to them tumble. Leon didn't want his nervousness to show. He had been practicing for weeks in front of bathroom mirrors and sometimes in the Officer's Academy shower, hoping nobody overheard him. He wanted it to be perfect because that's what you deserved.

You giggled, and somehow, his heart both fluttered and sank. Your eyes glittered with an emotion that made him slightly hopeful. "You want to take me out on a date?"

"Yeah," he replied, all too quickly. "If you'd like to that is--only if you'd like to." He wished he could stop himself from talking, but he couldn't.

You smiled at him, and dammit there went the last of his coherent thoughts. "You know what? Sure. I don't have anything interesting going on." You laughed again, looking away shyly. "I can't say no when you're looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Leon asked, though he fully knew what you were talking about.

"Like I'm the only thing on your mind," you responded. You were fidgeting with your shirt, and Leon wanted nothing more than to grab your hands and hold them.

You weren't incorrect, either. You were on his mind a frightening amount. This affection for you was a buzz in the back of his mind, a throb in his chest.

You still said yes.

"So it's a date?"

"Yes, it's a date."

He swore he grinned from ear to ear, and he saw you return it.

--

The day he was supposed to pick you up, he never did. You were more worried than disappointed. Leon didn't seem like the type of guy you ask you out, gazing at you as if you created the sky and the stars, and then drop you like a hat. Despite the bitter part of you wanting to think he ditched you, the rational part knew better.

He called you hours later, apologetic and broken. "I'm so sorry. Something... something came up."

"Forget the date," you quickly muttered, surprised at how swift the words left your mouth. "Are you okay?"

He was silent for a bit. "Not really."

"Where are you? I'm coming to you."

"No, wait," Leon called your name almost in a plea. "I don't want you to drag yourself into this."

You weren't backing down without a little bit of a fight. "Leon, please."

He paused before stating he was in a hospital outside of Raccoon City.

--

Leon knew he loved you after that. He never admitted to himself until he was sure, but he couldn't prevent that innocent crush from growing into something more powerful.

You became a firework, blazing in his lonely, starless sky. You had always been.

2004.

He liked to believe he still loved the same. Wanted to love the same as he did all those years ago. His heart pounding and his palms becoming clammy, blue eyes full of innocent love.

He knew he didn't.

Leon was reserved now, awkward with his affection, hesitant with his touches yet still craved it. He hated that you had to watch him develop--no, perhaps devolve was the better word here--this trauma response. This training, this work, it all collapsed on top of him, and sometimes he felt as if it would eventually crush him.

Yet, some part of you still saw his old self. That stupid, lovesick boy who craved your attention the way a puppy would a scrap of food. You still gave him love, still kissed his scars, still told him sweet nothings when he broke down crying because the pressure was too much.

He once asked you if you were okay with all of this still, okay with him. You gave him your usual smile, the one that made him weak and touched that lovesick boy deep down. "You're stuck with me, Leon. I gave myself to you the day you asked me out. I'm staying. No matter what happens, I'm here."

He kissed you hard that day. Harder than he ever had. Placing a promise against your lips that he would always come back to you. No matter what.

--

You often wondered what he would do without you. If he would crash and burn the moment you turned around, if the night terrors would claw at his throat and suffocate him.

It was hard, watching him suffer mentally when all you could do was give him words of affirmation. Reassure him that the nightmares weren't real and that you were truly there with him and not bloodied up and dead.

Those moments made the good ones feel like precious gifts. Not just for you, but also for him. You carried them in your heart and held on to those when the bad days would storm over his head.

You remembered one of those good days so clearly, so vividly it never failed to make you smile. One day, while looking over some files, Leon had fallen asleep. His glasses--the ones he usually only used whenever he was reading important work files--were scrunched against his face, pushing up against the bridge of his nose. You remembered walking into his office, snickering a little at the sight. You sighed, shaking your head. "What am I going to do with you?"

You approached him quietly, as if the smallest movement would ruin his peaceful slumber. You grabbed the rims of his glasses carefully, pulling them off his face so he'd be more comfortable. As you did, you caught a feel of his soft locks and couldn't help but lightly smooth between your fingers. You took note of his facial features; his cheekbones were more rigid, and the shadows of his eyes were sunken in. His hair was even a bit darker, looking dirtier blond than it had when you first met. Still handsome, that would never change.

The urge to kiss his forehead had you twitching, but you didn’t want to disturb him. Especially since he had probably been staring at documented words for who knows how long.

You moved to quietly nudge yourself away before his sleepy voice mumbled. "Gonna go so soon?"

You blinked, looking down to see his eyes were now open. Still hazy from his rest. You practically beamed at him. "Didn't wanna wake you."

Leon sat up, stretching a little before putting his glasses back on. "Guess I must've passed out. These reports practically put me to sleep. I can't believe this is part of what they pay me for."

You attempted to catch a glimpse of whatever was on the document, but he placed them flat on the table when he caught you.

Leon snickered. "Classified. Sorry, baby."

You pouted a little. "Can't I help my boyfriend out a little?"

He stood up and stretched more, popping his back. "Not if it means you getting in trouble by seeing the reports. I'd also get in trouble, and we definitely wouldn't want that."

"Man, and here I thought I'd be able to see the famous missions Leon Kennedy goes on," you teased.

Leon just rolled his eyes as if you two had had this discussion before. You have. You just like to see him smile. Distract him as much as you could.

"Become an agent, then we'll talk." He took off his glasses and put them back on his desk. He placed his gaze upon you, and you could feel the adoration in his eyes. He still looked at you as if you had created the sky, the moon, the stars. As if you were his sun and he orbited around you and only you. You would never get over it.

Leon mimicked the action you were doing earlier and parted your hair from your cheeks so he could kiss your forehead.

His work phone rang loud, interrupting the moment. Leon sighed and kissed you quickly against the lips before the obligation to his duty forced him to go answer it.

"Kennedy. Yes, sir."

You observed his body language as he discussed with his superior. His shoulders went rigid, his eyes focused as if he were already on the field. He was prepared for whatever they were about to tell him because he had to be.

He hung up after a minute of giving affirming hums and a variety of yeses. Leon plopped his phone on the documentations and gave you an apologetic look.

"Don't worry about it." You shook your head. You knew what he was about to say. He didn't even need to tell you anything out loud. His eyes told the whole story.

"I really don't deserve you," he mumbled. "Makes me wonder how you do it."

"Because I love you." You said simply. "I'm here to stay, remember?"

--

|Tags:|

@seraphiism , @uhlunaro , @izuniias , @honeyfict , @konigbabe , @leonskillshot , @airanke , @muffimtv , @justonemore-fic , @mandalhoerian , @tosuckmyweenis , @boundinparchment

[jakeotters]

Okay get ready cause I’ve got a TON

1. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this

2. I like you damnit! Is that what you wanted to hear?

3. You make me want to be better

4. Can you please come and get me

5. “Why didn’t you tell me?” , “I thought you’d bench me”

I have more

thank you so much for sending these!

I Don’t Deserve You (scott miller x reader)

warnings: kissing, scott is NOT a dick (surprise), there’s a thunderstorm

a/n: i apologize for taking so long to get to requests, i’ve been in the process of moving and am still trying to get settled so i haven’t been able to sit down and write :(

my inbox is open for requests! rules for requests are on my pinned post :)

Your passion for weather extended long beyond the confines of your chase vehicle and the stormy skies during the months of April and May. It may have been the offseason, but that didn’t stop you from running outside to stand below the darkening clouds that hung in the sky above you.

And here you were, standing on the concrete pathway that lead up to your front porch, head tilted up, staring at the sky like you’d never seen a storm before. The darkness of the clouds caused a shadow to hang around you, the light fading as the thick blanket of clouds took over the afternoon sunlight.

Scott watched you from the screen door that separated you from the inside of the house. He loved storms just as much as you did, but something about your love for them was so endearing to him. He always watched when you’d stand at the door, watching the towers of cumulonimbus clouds grow into thunderstorms, some of them growing into supercells.

Scott waited for the moment when you’d jump up and pull your shoes on, running out to see what awaited behind the safety of your house. It was almost like you had a sixth sense that told you when storms were coming.

He’d stand at the door and watch when you were outside, you were just as the beautiful as the storms you loved watching. It was one of the only times when his rigid demeanor would melt away and his hard personality would soften.

You watched the clouds, a steady rain beginning to fall from the grey sky above you. Thunder rumbled in the distance, low but clear enough to give a stern warning of what was coming. You didn’t say anything, the twinkle in your eyes was enough to show just how amazed you were.

Scott opened the screen door, stepping out onto the porch. He was quiet, not wanting to disturb you. You looked so peaceful, so relaxed despite the rumble of thunder growing louder and the rain beginning to fall faster. The wind picked up, goosebumps forming on his arms as the cooled air hit his skin.

Lightning began to flash across the sky, illuminating the sky and the ground below. The white flashes shined in your eyes like shooting stars. The rain was starting to soak your hair and your skin, the wind blowing water on you, but you didn’t move. You stood there, eyes focused on the sky like nothing else existed.

Scott stepped off the porch, making his way down the pathway to where you were. The rain immediately hit his skin, the lightning shining in his blue eyes. For the first time, you took your eyes away from the storm. You looked at him, immediately feeling his presence behind you.

Scott didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to, the way his lips met yours was enough to tell you what he felt. The rain dripped down your face and his, but at that moment, nothing mattered. He kissed you long and passionately, wanting to feel your lips on his forever.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. The smell of his colgone filled your nose, mixing beautifully with the smell of the rain.

“Scott…”

Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve any of this.”

You were taken aback by his words. He wasn’t one to be soft, or express how much something meant to him, but his admission felt so raw, so personal. You met his eyes with yours.

Both of you were soaked, your clothes and skin dripping with rainwater. His eyes were soft, everything about his usual harsh demeanor was gone. You couldn’t wrap your mind around any words to say, all you could do was wrap your arms around him. He responded by holding you to him.

He loved you. The storms were beautiful, but there was no one like you. He didn’t deserve you.

[katebishopshands]

Can you do Kate Bishop and reader getting back from a long day of missions and get all cozy together then take starts teasing and it leads to the bedroom. Thank you <3

Teehee I like this one :)

I made reader a magic user because I never see the dynamic in any Kate fics :))

I <3 in universe Kate so much

(Tags: thigh riding, tit groping, slight nipple play, strapping, strap ons, Kate and reader are quite literally the defintion of switches, Kate bishops strap is purple and sparkly bc I said so, showering together ( non sexual, it’s actually really cute))

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･

Call it what you want ✨

Kate Bishop/Reader

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･

Your whole body ached. You weren’t even sure how your feet were able to hold the weight of your body up as you stood waiting for Kate to open the door.

You’re sure the two of you looked ridiculous. Still in your hero suits, covered in cuts and bruises, probably smelling a little funky as well.

Thats one thing they don’t mention when you become anAvenger, it only looks glamorous when you’re receiving hero’s medals and keys to the city, attending charity events in gowns you could realistically never own. They don’t mention that you have to lug all your things back to your girlfriend’s dingy apartment and wait for her to unlock the door.

Kate’s fumbling with the keys, the gloves she wore to protect her fingers from her bow strings getting in the way. You give a slightly annoyed sigh as you gently take the keys from her hands being able to quickly find the correct key and unlock the door.

“Thanks!” Kate smiles at you. You returned her smile with a tired one of your own as you step through the door. You prop the door open for Kate with the arm closest, Kate hums appreciatively and ducks under your arm. You can’t help but snort at her a little as she gives you a kiss on the cheek while she passes you. She could’ve gone around you, but wanted to add a little flair and go underneath your arm. Sometimes what went on in her mind just flabbergasted you.

Lucky raises his head from his bed in the living room, giving you both a happy dog smile. You assume he can sense the fatigue coming off of the both of you because he stays put, resting his head back on his paws politely.

“Christ, that was rough” you say as you rub the back of your neck attempting to loosen some of the tight muscles there. Kate groans, dropping her bow and quiver. A few arrows skid across the kitchen floor, bow clattering on the checkered ground.

“Tell me about it, I don’t think I’ve even been nearly blown up that much in my whole life”

You look at your girlfriend’s form as she begins to unclip the utility belt that held all or trick arrowheads around her waist. She’s slightly covered in dust, it coats her usually pink cheeks in a fine layer. Parts of her suit are singed, a few scrapes cover her nose and chin. Somehow,despite everything, she still looks good.

Kate drops the utility belt on the floor next to her quiver and bow. She throws her head back, nose to the sky and gives a giant groan. You roll your eyes.

“I swear, if Sam would’ve just listened to my plan the whole thing would’ve gone way more smooth” she looks at you with watery blue eyes. You pout a little at her.

“Easy there Hawkeye,” you walk over to her, cradling her face in one of your hands. Kate leans her head into you and reciprocates your pout. “You’ll have your time, Sam can’t be the leader forever”

“I love him but he can be so stupid sometimes”

“Isn’t that how we feel about most bosses?”

“Touché” Kate shrugs and keeps her head in your hands. You roll your eyes at her and begin to trace her injuries with your other hand.

“We should get these cleaned up” you trace your thumb over a cut on her chin. She jumps and bit and winces.

“can’t you just cast a spell and make it better?” She bats her long lashes at you a couple times. Despite how many times you have told Kate, that’s not what you use magic for it can never get through her head.

“That’s now how it works Katie, and you know it” you smile at her, your hand drifting from her chin to hold her hand.

“But I hate the alcohol wipes” she pouts at you again. You actually almost feel bad for the archer. But you knew it was an act to get you to do some sort of magic for her. She was the most dramatic girl you’ve ever met.

You give her a kiss quickly.

“We need to shower.” Kate blurts. She’s rubbing your fingers with her thumb. It was your time to groan. She was right and you knew it, but the idea of taking off your suit sounded exhausting.

“Ugh but that takes so much effort”

“I’ll get out the fancy soap Laura gave me for my birthday last year”

Kate knows you can’t resist the temptation of the homemade lavender soap that Laura Barton had gifted her. Anytime Kate had showered with it and you had been around her, you were obsessed with it. Finding every excuse you could to press your nose into the crook of her neck to smell it on her warm skin.

“Sold” it was Kate’s turn to roll her eyes. She begins to drag you towards the small bathroom for the apartment. You’re dragging your feet, letting your socks glide across the smooth floor of her apartment. Kate giggles and pulls a little harder, pulling you into her.

Her back is against her bathroom door as she holds you against her. Her hands lay comfortably on your lower back as yours sit pressed against the front of her chest. You both say nothing, just looking at the other and smiling. After a day filled with almost dying, it was nice to just bask in each others presence.

Kate’s hands begin to wander downward, one hand giving a firm squeeze to your ass. You jump a little.

“Yknow we could…” she trails off, eyes glancing at your lips. Her other hand joins at your ass. You lightly hit her and scoff.

“Hey! You promised me fancy soap!” You pout at her. She throws her hands up in a surrender.

“Okay okay..I was just thinking..”

“Kate Bishop I am not banging you until you don’t have dried alien blood on you” Kate grimaces but fully surrenders as she opens the bathroom door. You follow her into the bathroom and begin to grab essentials for you both. A couple of clean towels, bathrobes for after.

While you’re doing that Kate fights with the shower temperature, it being too cold or too hot. Kate curses under her breath. You give her a look of pity before gently grabbing her hand and removing it from the faucet. You maintain eye contact with her as you use your magic to bring the water to the perfect temperature for you both. Her blue eye go soft and she smiles.

“You never cease to amaze me” she grabs your hand and pulls you into a kiss. A single kiss that turns into several small ones peppering your cheeks.

“I know I do, but the spell won’t last forever so let’s get in, yeah?” You pull the archers head away from your face, gently cradling her cheeks in your grime covered hands. She nods and begins to strip down. You help Kate out of her suit, being careful with it as you know how important it was to her. Kate returns the favor, carefully helping you out of your “wizard clothes” as you’ve so affectionately named them.

Kate massages your shoulders a little, placing a few kisses here and there as she helps you. You sigh in relief once everything is off. Feeling a million times lighter and less constricted.

“Fancy soap time?” she asks. You nod

“Fancy soap time” you confirm and step into her shower. Kate grabs a bar from the cabinet next to the sink. You can’t help but laugh a little at how pale her bare ass is. A couple freckles decorate across her lower back and her butt. It’s cute.

“Are you laughing at me?” Kate asks while standing up. You shake your head

“No” you lie.

“Whatever” she rolls her eyes and joins you in the shower.

You both take turns helping the other to wash up. Massaging over Kate’s sore back muscles with the soap. She leans her head back and sighs contented. You press a kiss to her shoulder as the warm water rains down on you both. It’s comforting to have help in the shower. Not trying to get in the others pants at the other moment. Just taking in the others presence, letting the warm water wash away the blood and grime from your assignment earlier.

You admire Kate’s muscles. Years of martial arts, gymnastics and archery had left her in fantastic shape. Sometimes it was confusing to you as to how you managed to pull her, but you would never have it any other way. Kate’s biceps flex as she squeezes some shampoo into her hands.

“Turn around, let me wash your hair” you oblige her and turn. Kate rakes her fingers through your hair, scrubbing at your scalp. You close your eyes as Kate works at your hair. Gently maneuvering you under the water to rinse the suds and then apply conditioner. You inhale the scent of her coconut shampoo mixing with the lavender from the soap. An odd combination but a combination that reeked of Kate.

Before you’d like it, Kate’s shutting the water off and exiting the shower. She wraps a towel around herself and then holds a large purple towel open for you to jump into. You let her wrap it around you before working with it to dry yourself off. Together you brush your teeth, wash your faces and take a comb through you hair in comfortable silence. That’s one thing you’ve always loved about being with Kate, is that she knows when to turn off her mouth when you really need to reset.

Once you’re both done kates sat in her bed tucked under the purple duvet. You’re shuffling through her vinyl collection, attempting to decide what to put on. You land on one of her well loved Taylor swift vinyls and put it on the turn table. The first few notes of the album begin to play and you turn to her.

You had left a pair of sweats at hers from sometime earlier when you had visited her, so you wore that and a sweatshirt of hers. It was some archery team sweatshirt from college, her last name “BISHOP” written in bold white letters across your back.

“Should we order something? Chinese….pizza?” Kate looks up from her phone, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Ugh Kate you only want pizza because you live above a pizzeria” you hit her with a pillow as you sit down next to her. She laughs and shrugs.

“Okay okay, guilty, then what do you want?”

You spend a few minutes arguing over what you wanted to eat. Both of you hadn’t eaten since early that morning before your assignment. Eventually settling on something, you curled into Kate’s side. Both of you doing your own things on your phones. She fiddles with the ends of your damp hair absentmindedly.

You let your phone drop and sigh, staring at the wall. Kate ignores you and continues scrolling. Your fingers trace small circles on her stomach. She continues to ignore you. Another, louder sigh. Nothing.

You’re creeping your hands up her abdomen towards her sports bra clad chest. Your hand is sat on her boob, yet she’s still engrossed in scrolling.

You squeeze

Kate jumps in response. Looking away from her phone and down to you near her chest.

“The hell was that for?”

You bat your eyelashes a bit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you feign innocence and you give another squeeze to her tit.

“Oh you’re asking for it” Kate sits up fully, grabbing under your armpits as she manhandles you to sit on her lap. You protest a little, trying to shove her away. You both laugh a bit. Kate grabs at your sides , and you jolt in her lap. Trying to squirm away from her you shove her face away as she leans in to kiss you.

“You seemed so eager for my attention a few minutes ago, and now you’re all shy?” Her face is mere inches away from your face. You can feel her breath fan across your face. Your head towards the bottom of her bed, Kate on her knees straddling across you.

“You were paying attention to only your phone” you jut out your bottom lip at her, feeling extra bratty.

“And so were you!”

“Nuh uh!” You cross your arms and avoid looking at her. You’re hoping it pushes her to initiate something. It does.

Kate grabs at your sides again. Pushing her warm hands under your sweatshirt to touch your bare skin. You could’ve sworn her fingertips were burning holes through your skin. She started kissing your neck, working her way up to your jaw and then eventually up to your lips. Kate guides your head back to a front facing position as her hands slide up your torso, hands making their way to your bare tits. She starts to knead at the flesh as she works at your mouth.

You groan into her, arching your chest into her eager hands. Your hands tug at the roots of her hair, still a little damp from the shower you took earlier. She smells like everything you could want from her. Her coconut shampoo, the lavender soap you love so much. No longer smelling like the battle you were engaged in for most of the day. She was back to just Kate. Not Hawkeye. Your Kate.

Kate pulls away from you, but continues to grope at you. She pinches your right nipple between her pointer finger and thumb. You press your chest upwards again, a small whine falling from your mouth. You lift your head up, attempting to kiss Kate again. She pulls her head back, opting to stare down at you with a smug smile on her face. Her eyes flick up and down your face, from your lips to your eyes.

“Paybacks a bitch isn’t it?” Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she wedges a knee between your legs. You were so incredibly fucked.

Upon contact you moan. Her knee colliding so perfectly with your sensitive core. You hadn’t even realized how worked up you had gotten from just a little teasing.

“Katie..” you do your best plead with her. You HAD started this whole thing by being a brat, and now you were getting consequences for it. She quirks an eyebrow at you. Kate stops groping you, pulling her hands entirely from your shirt. Her gaze goes soft as she sits up fully, keeping her knee between your legs. You grind down on it.

Locking eyes with Kate you do it again, making a show out of the moan that escapes your mouth. Your hands run up your torso, dragging the gray sweatshirt up your body. Kates eyes trail your body as your body becomes more and more exposed. You watch her breath get hitch as the fabric gets pulled over your breasts, leaving your chest bare infront of her.

You continue to rile her up, groping at your tits and humping onto her knee. A slew of pornographic and almost obnoxious moans falling from your mouth. Kate continues to not touch you, clearly enjoying watching you get yourself off on her knee a little too much. You watched her chest heave up and down with every breath she took, blue eyes dilating with every moan that left your mouth.

If you were being completely honest, you were putting on a show for her. The thick sweatpants you had on were getting in your way, with only a small amount of actual friction getting to your aching clit. Despite Kate’s burning stare and your own ministrations at your tits it wasn’t enough. Holding Kate’s eyes, you let your hands slide back down your bod, thumbs hooking around the waistband of your sweats. Kate swallows impatiently. You knew she had to be soaking at this point.

The way she licked her lips, the way her fingers twitched. This was torture. Clearly she hadn’t have thought this plan through as much as she thought. If she wasn’t going to help you through it, you were going to do it yourself.

You slide your sweats down your legs, carefully removing them before sitting up fully so you were finally sat on Kate’s toned thigh.

Kate slips her bottom lip inbetween her teeth as she feels your heat on her. Nothing but a black thong separating you two. You reassume your previous motions. Dragging your hips back and forth across Kate’s thigh you sling your arms over her shoulders, pressing your bare chest into her own. You play with the long black locks that fall down her back as you ride her thigh. The friction of her sports bra on your peaked nipples add a spark of pleasure through you. Your nose presses against hers, just barely grazing it. You let open mouthed moans hit her face.

Kate stays strong, resisting the urge to touch you. A flex of her thigh bumps against your clit and you whine.

“Fuck this” Kate’s resolve finally breaks. She had tried to be strong, teach you a lesson for being a brat but she just couldn’t. Not when you’re moaning into her mouth.

She grabs your hips, fully taking control of your speed. You don’t protest. You let Kate dominate the pace, quickly accelerating the once dull feeling of an oncoming orgasm. Kate crashes her lips onto yours, effectively swallowing any sounds that could’ve escaped your mouth.

Your hands move from behind Kate’s back to underneath her bra. You knead at her boobs, pinching at her nipples. She jerks away with a whine. You keep at it while Kate guides you on her thigh. Your motions are limited under the constriction of her sports bra so you grab the bottom of it, beginning to pull it off of her body. Kate’s hands leave your hips for a moment as she raised them above her head.

You yank the sports bra off her body and over her head, throwing it out of sight and out of mind . Your bare chests rub against each other as you continue to rut against Kate. Almost to your orgasm. Kate whines into you every time one of her stiff nipples rubs against your own, her own hips bucking into yours uncontrollably.

A gentle bite to your lip and a flex of Kate’s toned thigh sends you over the edge. You’re finishing in your underwear. Kate moans a bit as she feels your warm release coat her thigh. You’re leaning into her, forehead resting on her shoulder as you catch your breath. Kate rubs at your back, letting her nails give you light scratches. You sit silently as you both calm down for a second.

“You’re such a brat” Kate gives a playful pinch to your butt. You roll your eyes as you sit up to look at her.

“Brat or not, you benefitted from it.”

Kate turns her lips downward a little and looks up to consider something. She shrugs.

“Well..I didn’t finish so..did I really?” She’s smug with it. Are you brave enough to accept her offer and put her in her place? She wants to push your buttons as payback.

“Fuck you” you say standing.

“That’s what I’m trying to get you to do!” Kate laughs as she lays down again. She rolls over to check her phone for what time the food will be there. Something else is on your mind though.

Accepting Kate’s challenge.

You crouch by her bedside table, opening the drawer. You look over to Kate’s back. She doesn’t stir. After a little digging you find what you want.

A clear purple glittery strap on stares at you from Kate’s drawer. It’s her prized possession. You didn’t even want to know how much she had spent on it.

Using your magic, you silently lift it from the drawer and put it on. Letting the harness adjust itself to your measurements with your magic as to not alert Kate. You clear your throat, asking for Kate’s attention once more. She rolls over, eyes going wide at the sight of you wearing her strap.

“Jesus Christ.” It’s almost like you could see her head go blank. She lays there, eyes wide.

“You said you didn’t get to finish? Well let’s finish” you grin as you straddle yourself over her. You lean down to kiss Kate. Your girlfriend eagerly reciprocates as she juts her chin out to deepen the kiss. You groan a little as Kate’s hands dig into your hair, pulling at the roots. You detach from her lips as you make your way down her neck, sucking and leaving little love bites on her neck and chest. It was times like this where you thanked whatever higher power that was out there that your girlfriend dressed decently conservatively or else you’d both never hear the end of it from the rest of the Avengers.

Kate throws her head back as you grab at her tits, pinching a nipple between your thumb and pointer finger.

“Cmon..” Kate pants impatiently.

“Oh and I’m the brat?” You say slightly annoyed, pulling off of her.

“Fuck you” she responds with the same attitude. Kate grabs at your head, trying to bring you down for another kiss. You dodge her. Giving her a taste of her own medicine from earlier.

“No Katie, I’m fucking you” you grin at her as you tug her own sweatpants and underwear down her pale thighs . You can see that she’s soaked.

Kate was often generous in letting you finish and not finishing herself. Today was not one of those days. You guide the strap through her folds, wetting it and making sure to bump her sore clit. Kate jumps in response.

“Come,” bump “on”. She’s so impatient. You decide to oblige her, sinking the strap on into her cunt.

“Shit!” Kate curses. “You could’ve at least given me some warning!” Her blue eyes are wide as her hands search for something to grab onto. You grab one of them, giving a kiss to it.

“You told me to come on, so I did” you state plainly, batting your eyes a few times at her. You give a few experimental thrusts just to watch Kate squirm under you. Some slow, some fast and short, some long. Every thrust of your hips has Kate writhing. She squeezes her eyes closed as she gets used to the feeling of the strap inside of her.

“I am so getting you back for this” Kate retorts. You thrust into her hard enough to make her tits bounce. She moans, loud.

“Bold words for someone who’s got my dick shoved inside of her” you could’ve sworn you felt her squeeze around the silicone cock at your hips. She groans.

You stop.

“God, just shut up and fuck me” she grins at you as she leans upwards, you meet her halfway. You kiss her as you begin a steady rhythm into her. Kate smiles onto the kiss, her hands anchoring themselves into your hair.

The harness rubs perfectly at your own clit. Mixed with the pleasant feeling of Kate’s hands in your own hair you can feel your own arousal seeping down your thighs again as you fuck into Kate.

Kate’s whining underneath you as you thrust in and out of her, one hand going down to play with her clit. She gasps once she feels your hand down there.

“Shit I’m close” she’s breathless, her voice barely above a whisper. And honestly you are too. You were still relatively sensitive from riding Kate earlier so the friction of the harness was working you at a steady pace. You keep at the solid pace, pinching Kate’s clit in an effort to get her to her peak.

“You got it, doing so good” you praise her. And that’s what does it. Kate gushes as she receives your praise. She’s finishing on the silicone cock with a whine of your name.

You give a few desperate thrusts in an attempt to finish yourselves once more. You’re whining with desperation , rhythm thrown out the window as you chase your high.

You’re finishing again with a final thrust. Pulling out of Kate as quick as possible to not overstimulate her and make her uncomfortable. You shed yourself of the strap and your soiled underwear, joining Kate as you lay down.

You kiss her neck gently,rubbing at her sides. She wraps her arms around you and plants a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thanks uh…for letting me finish.” You can’t see her face, but you can feel Kate’s smile pressed against your head. Despite smelling like sex, her skin still smells like the soap you love so much. You her a kiss under her jaw.

“Of course, I couldn’t have left you hanging.” You smile at her. You can hear the record player still spinning. You had no idea when the record had stopped playing. You lay with your girlfriend for a few moments. You trace lines from freckle to freckle on her stomach. Another kiss is pressed to her bare chest.

“Do you think we’ll have to fight more aliens tomorrow?” She asks, looking at the ceiling.

“God I fucking hope not, I need to sleep for at least a day to rest up from today alone” you groan. You really had no more patience for intergalactic threats.

A buzzer rings, jolting you and Kate from your comfortable silence. The buzzer for Kate’s front door. The food was here. Lucky barks at the buzzer and you can hear his feet tap against the flooring on the lower level.

You and your girlfriend give a moan of annoyance, having just got comfortable. You sit up holding your fist out to her.

“I win, you go get the food and if you win, I get the food…best two out of three?” You smile expectantly at Kate.

Kate laughs at you and holds out her fist, ready to kick your ass in rock paper scissors.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･

Back to my roots with the little one off fics !!!

Kate deserves to get strapped every now and then, I stand by it

[gay-dorito-dust]

I heard you are looking for Barbie prompts👀👀

1. Ken learning to kiss (he's never done it before lol)

2. FtM reader struggling, Ken helps him realize he's just as much of a man as anyone else

3. Ken asking for advice on winning over Barbie, only to fall for reader

4. Ken revealing his struggle with toxic masculinity and his shame

God so many amazing prompts, I wish I could write them all but I don’t wanna bore anyone with how long of a fic that would be. So if anyone wants me to do the other prompts (1, 2, or 4) plz let me know.

Prompt 3: Ken asks for advice on how to win over Barbie, only to fall for reader in the process.

You cringed as another one of Ken’s failed attempts of impressing stereotypical Barbie. You had to applaud your friends’ tenacity because had it been you, you would’ve just given up in the moments where Ken had done nothing but persist in his pursuit of the beautiful blonde. You honestly didn’t a clue in whether or not it’ll do Ken any good in telling him that he would be better off in giving up, or it’ll just further persuade him into trying even harder in his efforts in a desperate form of hope that one day she’ll see him. Like actually see him.

Whatever the outcome, you knew that not matter what was being said by anyone, Ken was one to never know in when it’s okay to quit. His supposed advancements weren’t advancing anything in regards to his and Barrie’s relationship; they were still on square one in your humble opinion, as it was quite blatantly obvious that Ken needed Barbie like she was the oxygen he breaths but Barbie didn’t need Ken, she could very well breath happily without him.

Quickly seeing how you and Ken were the only ones left upon the peachy pink beach, you sighed as you made your way next to your blonde friend -who was very much in the literal sense lying face down within the sand- before sitting yourself down next to him with your knees propped up so that your arms may rest atop of them, followed softly after by your head feasting atop of your arms as you stared out beyond the horizon.

‘Well, that certainly went off without a hitch, didn’t it blondie.’ You said rhetorically whilst Ken groaned as he removed himself from the sand before practically slumping himself against your side.

‘First of all, my names Ken, not blondie, and secondly what is it that I’m doing wrong?’ Ken said, ‘I’d thought that she would totally be girlfriend/boyfriend with me by now but it seems that no matter how many times I’ve tried to make her see the man behind the tan, the more she doesn’t want me…what do I have to change about me to get her to admit that she likes me?’ He adds solemnly before looking over at you with a look of sheer desperation and hopelessness. ‘Tell me what it is that I have to change about myself in order to make Barbie see me.’ He asked of you, making you look his way as he grabbed your hands in his, almost like he was pleading to you to hear him. ‘Tell me what to change and I’ll do it, tell me what will make her see me as more Ken the boyfriend then Ken the friend.’

You stayed silent for awhile as you made the conscious choice to stare into his beautiful cerulean blue eyes that looked almost midnight blue with how they perfectly mimicked the starry sky above, or how they perfectly encapsulated the deepest depths of the very ocean he often -though not that often as he liked to claim- surfed. It was without saying that the Ken before you, your best friend Ken, was probably the most beautiful Ken you’ve ever come across, and while it’s not uncommon for friends to hype up the others beauty; there was obviously lines in the sand in regards to how far one can speak so highly of another’s appearance without it having somewhat romantic implications.

Upon realising how long you had been inside your own head, whilst externally just staring at him like a weirdo, you began to talk. ‘Here’s one thing you can stop doing and that’s going to extreme lengths to impress her.’ You told him, watching as his face slightly drop before feeling a panic consume you into continuing soliciting your advice, ‘I’m not saying you should cut it out all together but maybe tone it down a little, nobody here wants you to end up badly hurt yourself one day. Besides I think it’d be best if you just let her see the so called ‘man behind the tan.’ You added on as you pulled one hand of yours away from Ken’s hold in order to press it against his chest; more specifically where his heart lies. ‘Show Barbie the Ken that I know and love, the Ken who isn’t above helping others, the Ken who loves horses despite never having ridden one, the Ken who loves the beach, the Ken who loves his friends and will go above and beyond for them.’

You paused before trailing your hand upward so that it was now resting behind his neck, your thumb running across his skin in soothing patterns as you smiled at him, causing Ken to take a sharp inhale of breath. ‘You don’t have to change Ken, I don’t want my best friend to change for someone who won’t realise how lucky she is to have you in her life Ken.’ You utter softly before adding, ‘because I am and I prefer you the way you are right now, but I’m not the one your perusing and therefore I have no say in who you change for, just hope that you never do.’ You hauled yourself onto your feet before making your way off of the beach and back to your home, leaving Ken to stare after you in wonder and in awe.

‘Have I? Have I been going after the wrong person?’ Ken asked himself as thoughts of Barbie quickly became thoughts of you instead and the feeling that usually blossoms within him for Barbie, seemed to have only blossomed more then ever in regards of when it came to you. Naturally Ken was conflicted about the sudden change, wasn’t he suppose to be with Barbie? Then why did the notion of being your boyfriend felt more natural, more likeable then being Barbie’s boyfriend? He couldn’t understand how after perusing Barbie for as long as he has, his heart and mind have seemingly made peace with the fact that she wasn’t even at all interested in him, just as they were immediate in their change of trajectory and instead decided to set their sights on you after this particular night on the beach, and engaging within a conversation that relied on him to being open and honest about his feelings.

Ken just couldn’t understand why he felt so breathless when you smiled at him not too long ago, it felt as though you knocked the wind clear out of his lungs and he was still struggling on getting it back the more his mind stayed stuck on that particular moment. Ken was afraid to admit that he had fallen for someone new, but a small part of him was telling him that he had fallen for you way before the events that lead up to tonight’s conversation, telling him that it was no longer Barbie he was trying to impress but you.

[thewidowsghost]

The Sky (Annabeth Chase x Jackson!Reader)

After hearing Annabeth gripe about her father for the last two years, (Y/n) had expected him to have devil horns and fangs. She had not expected him to be wearing an old-fashioned aviator’s cap and goggles. He looks so strange, with his eyes bugging out through the glasses, that she, her brother Percy, Thalia, and Zoe take a step back on the back porch. 

“Hello,” he says in a friendly voice, “Are you delivering my airplanes?”

Thalia, Zoe, Percy, and (Y/n) look at each other warily. 

“Um, no, sir,” Percy says. 

“Drat,” he says. “I need three more Sopwith Camels.”

“Right,” (Y/n) says, though she has no idea what he’s talking about. “We’re, uh, friends,” - not exactly - “of Annabeth’s.”

“Annabeth?” he straightens, as if (Y/n) had just given him an electric shock. “Is she all right? Has something happened?”

None of the demigods answer, but their faces must’ve told him that something was very wrong. He takes off his cap and goggles. He has the same sandy-colored hair as Annabeth, and intense brown eyes. He’s handsome, for an older guy, but it looks as though he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and his shirt is buttoned wrong, so one side of his collar sticks up higher than the other side. 

“You’d better come in,” Dr. Chase says grimly. 

The Chase’s house smells like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and jazz music is coming from the kitchen. It seems like a messy, happy kind of home – the kind of place that someone had lived in forever.

“Dad!” a little boy screams. “He’s taking apart my robots!”

“Bobby,” Dr. Chase calls absently, “don’t take apart your brother’s robots.”

“I’m Bobby,” the little boy protests. “He’s Matthew!”

“Mathew,” Dr. Chase calls, “don’t take apart your brother’s robots.”

“Okay, Dad!”

Dr. Chase turns to us. “We’ll go upstairs to my study. This way.”

“Honey?” a woman calls. Annabeth’s stepmother appears in the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Who are our guests?” she asks. 

“Oh,” Dr. Chase says. “This is . . .” He stares blankly at the demigods.

“Frederick,” she chides. “You forgot to ask them their names?”

The demigods introduce themselves a little uneasily, but Mrs. Chase seems nice to (Y/n). She asks if the demigods were hungry, and they admit that they were, and she lets them know she’d bring up some cookies, sandwiches, and sodas. 

“Dear,” Dr. Chase says. “They came about Annabeth?”

(Y/n) half expects Mrs. Chase to turn into a raving lunatic at the mention of her stepdaughter, but she just purses her lips and looks concerned. “All right. Go on up to the study, and I’ll bring you some food.” Her gaze rests knowingly on (Y/n), and she smiles at the daughter of Poseidon. “Nice meeting you, (Y/n). I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Upstairs, they walk into Dr. Chase’s study, and a gasp of amazement escapes from (Y/n)’s lips. 

The room is wall-to-wall books, but what really catches (Y/n)’s attention are the war models. There is a huge table with miniature tanks and soldiers fighting along a blue painted river, with hills and fake trees and stuff. Old-fashioned biplanes hang on strings from the ceiling, tilted at crazy angles like they were in the middle of a dogfight.

Dr. Chase smiles. "Yes. The Third Battle of Ypres. I'm writing a paper, you see, on the use of Sopwith Camels to strafe enemy lines. I believe they played a much greater role than they've been given credit for."

He plucks a biplane from its string and sweeps it across the battlefield, making airplane engine noises as he knocks down little German soldiers. 

(Y/n) smiles slightly, looking up at her girlfriend’s father. 

Zoe comes over and studies the battlefield. “The German lines were farther from the river.”

Dr. Chase stares at her. “How do you know that?”

"I was there," she says matter-of-factly. "Artemis wanted to show us how horrible war was, the way mortal men fight each other. And how foolish, too. The battle was a complete waste."

Dr. Chase opens his mouth in shock. “You –”

“She’s a Hunter, sir,” Thalia says. “But that’s not wy we’re here. We need –”

"You saw the Sopwith Camels?" Dr. Chase says. "How many were there? What formations did they fly?"

“Sir,” (Y/n) breaks in this time. “Annabeth, sh-she’s in danger.”

That gets his attention. He sets the biplane down.

“Of course,” he says. “Tell me everything.”

It isn’t easy, but they try. Meanwhile, the afternoon light is fading outside. 

The demigods were running out of time.

When they'd finished, Dr. Chase collapses in his leather recliner. He laces his hands. "My poor brave Annabeth. We must hurry."

"Sir, we need transportation to Mount Tamalpais," Zoe says. "And we need it immediately."

"I'll drive you. Hmm. it would be faster to fly in my Camel, but it only seats two."

"Whoa, you have an actual biplane?" Percy asks.

"Down at Crissy Field," Dr. Chase says proudly. "That's the reason I had to move here. My sponsor is a private collector with some of the finest World War I relics in the world. He let me restore the Sopwith Camel—"

Sir," (Y/n) says. "Just a car would be great. And it might be better if we went without you. It's too dangerous."

Dr. Chase frowns uncomfortably. “Now wait a minute, young lady. Annabeth is my daughter. Dangerous or not, I . . . I can’t just –”

"Snacks," Mrs. Chase announces. She pushes through the door with a tray full of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and Cokes and cookies fresh out of the oven, the chocolate chips still gooey. Thalia and Percy inhale a few cookies while Zoe says, "I can drive, sir. I'm not as young as I look. I promise not to destroy your car."

Mrs. Chase knits her eyebrows. "What's this about?"

“Annabeth is in danger,” Dr. Chase says. “On Mount Tam. I would drive them . . . but apparently it’s no place for mortals.”

It sounds to (Y/n) like it was really hard for him to get that last part out.

(Y/n) waits for Mrs. Chase to say no, but to her surprise, Mrs. Chase just nods. “Then they’d better get going.”

“Right!” Dr. Chase jumps and starts patting his pockets. “My keys . . .”

His wife sighs. "Frederick, honestly. You'd lose your head if it weren't wrapped inside your aviator hat. The keys are hanging on the peg by the front door."

“Right!” Dr. Chase says. 

Zoe and (Y/n) each grab a sandwich. “Thank you both,” Zoe says. “We should go. Now!”

The four hustle out the door and down the stairs, the Chases right behind them. 

“(Y/n)” Mrs. Chase calls as they’re leaving, “tell Annabeth . . . tell her she still has a home here, will you? Remind her of that.”

(Y/n) takes one last look at the messy living room - Annabeth’s half brothers spilling LEGOs and arguing, and the smell of cookies filling the air. Not a bad place, she thinks. 

“I’ll tell her,” (Y/n) replies, smiling slightly at her girlfriend’s stepmother. 

They run out to the yellow Volkswagen convertible parked in the driveway. The sun is going down, and (Y/n) figures they have less than an hour to save Annabeth.

. . . 

At the top of the mountain are ruins, blocks of black granite and marble as big as houses. Broken columns. Statues of bronze that look as though they’d been half melted. 

“The ruins of Mount Othrys,” Thalia whispers in awe. 

“Yes,” Zoe says. “It was not here before. This is bad.”

“What’s Mount Othrys?” Percy asks, feeling like a fool as usual.

“The mountain fortress of the Titans,” Zoe explains. “In the first war, Olympus and Othrys were the two rival capitals of the world. Othrys was –” she winces and holds her side. 

“You’re hurt,” (Y/n) says, ignoring her own possibly cracked ribs. “Let me see.”

“No!” Zoe protests. “It is nothing. I was saying... in the first war, Othrys was blasted to pieces.”

“But . . . how is it here?”

Thalia looks around cautiously as they pick their way through the rubble, past blocks of marble and broken archways. "It moves in the same way that Olympus moves. It always exists on the edges of civilization. But the fact that it is here, on this mountain, is not good."

“Why?”

"This is Atlas's mountain," Zoe says. "Where he hold s—" She freezes. Her voice is ragged with despair. "Where he used to hold up the sky."

They had reached the summit of the mountain. A few yards ahead of them, gray clouds swirl in a heavy vortex, making a funnel cloud that almost touches the mountaintop, but instead rests on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze dreams. This is what (Y/n) had seen in her dream - though it hadn't been a cavern roof that Artemis was forced to hold. 

It was the weight of the world.

"My lady!" Zoe rushes forward. 

But Artemis says, "Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now." Her voice is strained, and she is drenched in sweat. (Y/n) had never seen a goddess in pain before, but the weight of the sky is clearly too much for Artemis.

Zoe is crying. She runs forward, despite Artemis’s protests, and tugs at the chains. 

A booming voice speaks behind them: “Ah, how touching.”

They turn. 

The General is staging there in his brown suit. At his side are Luke - and half a dozen dracaenae bearing the weight of the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. 

Annabeth stands at Luke’s side - her hands cuffed behind her back, a gag in her mouth, and Luke is holding the point of his sword to her throat. 

(Y/n) meets her girlfriend’s gaze, her sword, Tsunami, still in pen form in her hand, a thousand questions running through her head. There is one message Annabeth is sending her, however: RUN!

(Y/n)’s face hardens. “Luke,” (Y/n) snarls. “Let her go.”

Luke’s smile is pale and weak. “That is the General’s decision, (Y/n). But it’s good to see you again.”

(Y/n) spats at him. 

The general chuckles. “So much for old friends. And you, Zoe. it’s been a long time. How’s my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you.”

“Do not respond,” Artemis groans. “Do not challenge him.”

“Wait a second,” Percy says. “You’re Atlas?”

The General glances at him. "So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the general of the Titans and terror of the gods. Congratulations. I will kill you presently, as soon as I deal with this wretched girl."

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Percy says, and (Y/n) grunts her agreement. “We won’t let you.”

The General sneers. “You have no right to interfere, little heroes. This is a family matter.”

Percy frowns. “A family matter?”

“Yes,” Zoe says bleakly. “Atlas is my father.”

The terrible thing is: (Y/n) can see the resemblance. Atlas has the same regal expression as Zoe, the same cold proud look in his eyes that Zoe sometimes got when she was mad, though on him, it looks a thousand times more evil. The Titan was all the things (Y/n) had originally disliked about Zoe, with none of the good she’d come to appreciate in her friend. 

"Let Artemis go," Zoe demands.

Atlas walks closer to the chained goddess. "Perhaps you'd like to take the sky for her, then? Be my guest."

Zoe opens her mouth to speak, but Artemis says, "No! Do not offer, Zoe! I forbid you."

Atlas smirks. He kneels next to Artemis and tries to touch her face, but the goddess bites at him, almost taking off his fingers.

"Hoo-hoo," Atlas chuckles. "You see, daughter? Lady Artemis likes her new job. I think I will have all the Olympians take turns carrying my burden, once Lord Kronos rules again, and this is the center of our palace. It will teach those weaklings some humility."

(Y/n) looks at Annabeth. She is desperately trying to tell (Y/n) something. She motions her head towards Luke. But all (Y/n) can do is stare at her. (Y/n) hadn't noticed before, but something about her had changed. Her beautiful blond hair was now streaked with gray - but that didn’t make Annabeth look less beautiful in (Y/n)’s eyes. 

"From holding the sky," Thalia mutters, as if she'd (Y/n)’s mind. "The weight should've killed her."

"I don't understand," Percy says. "Why can't Artemis just let go of the sky?"

Atlas laughs. "How little you understand, young one. This is the point where the sky and the earth first met, where Ouranos and Gaia first brought forth their mighty children, the Titans. The sky still yearns to embrace the earth. Someone must hold it at bay, or else it would crush down upon this place, instantly flattening the mountain and everything within a hundred leagues. Once you have taken the burden, there is no escape." Atlas smiles. "Unless someone else takes it from you." He approaches the group, studying Thalia, (Y/n), and Percy. "So these are the best heroes of the age, eh? Not much of a challenge."

"Fight us," (Y/n) spits. "And let's see."

"Have the gods taught you nothing? An immortal does not fight a mere mortal directly. It is beneath our dignity. I will have Luke crush you instead."

"So you're another coward," (Y/n) snickers.

Atlas's eyes glow with hatred. With difficulty, he turns his attention to Thalia. "As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you."

"I wasn't wrong," Luke managed. He looked terribly weak, and he spoke every word as if it were painful. If (Y/n) didn't hate his guts so much, she almost would've felt sorry for him. "Thalia, you still can join us. Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!"

He waves his hand, and next to us a pool of water appears: a pond ringed in black marble, big enough for the Ophiotaurus. Percy can imagine Bessie in that pool. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more he was sure he could hear Bessie mooing.

Don't think about him! Suddenly Grover's voice is inside my mind—the empathy link. Percy could feel his emotions. He is on the verge of panic. I'm losing Bessie. Block the thoughts!

Percy tries to make his mind go blank. He tries to think about basketball players, skateboards, and the different kinds of candy in my mom's shop. Anything but Bessie.

"Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus," Luke persists. "And you will be more powerful than the gods."

"Luke . . ." Her voice is full of pain. "What happened to you?"

"Don't you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods?

Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!"

Thalia shakes her head. "Free Annabeth. Let her go."

"If you join me," Luke promises, "it can be like old times. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don't agree . . ."His voice falters. "It's my last chance. He will use the other way if you don't agree. Please."

(Y/n) doesn’t know what he means, but the fear in his voice sounds real enough. She could believe that Luke was in danger.

His life depends on Thalia's joining his cause. And (Y/n) is afraid Thalia might believe it, too.

"Do not, Thalia," Zoe warns. "We must fight them."

Luke waves his hand again, and a fire appears. A bronze brazier, just like the one at

camp. A sacrificial flame.

"Thalia," (Y/n) mutters. "No."

Behind Luke, the golden sarcophagus begins to glow. As it did, (Y/n) sees images in the mist

all around us: black marble walls rising, the ruins becoming whole, a terrible and beautiful

palace rising around them, made of fear and shadow.

"We will raise Mount Othrys right here," Luke promises, in a voice so strained it is hardly his. "Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia. We are not weak."

He points toward the ocean, and (Y/n)’s heart falls. Marching up the side of the mountain, from the beach where the Princess Andromeda was docked, is a great army. Dracaenae and

Laestrygonians, monsters and half-bloods, hellhounds, harpies, and other things (Y/n) can’t even name. The whole ship must've been emptied, because there are hundreds, many more than (Y/n) had seen on board last summer. And they are marching toward the mountain. In a few minutes, they would be there.

"This is only a taste of what is to come," Luke says "Soon we will be ready to storm Camp Half-Blood. And after that, Olympus itself. All we need is your help."

For a terrible moment, Thalia hesitates. She gazes at Luke, her eyes full of pain, as if the only thing she wants in the world is to believe him. Then she levels her spear. "You aren't Luke. I don't know you anymore."

"Yes, you do, Thalia," he pleads. "Please. Don't make me . . . Don't make him destroy you."

There is no time. If that army gets to the top of the hill, we would be overwhelmed. (Y/n) meets her girlfriend’s eyes again. Annabeth nods.

(Y/n) looks at Percy, Thalia, and Zoe, and she decides it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to die fighting with friends like this.

"Now," (Y/n) says, and together, they charge.

Thalia goes straight for Luke. The power of her shield is so great that his dragon- women bodyguards flee in a panic, dropping the golden coffin and leaving him alone. But despite his sickly appearance, Luke is still quick with his sword. He snarls like a wild animal and counterattacks. When his sword, Backbiter, met Thalia's shield, a ball of lightning erupted between them, frying the air with yellow tendrils of power.

As for (Y/n), she does the stupidest thing in her life - which is saying a lot. She attacks the Titan Lord Atlas.

He laughs as (Y/n) approaches, her sword Tsunami springing to life in her hands. A massive javelin appears in Atlas’s hands and his silk suit melts into full Greek battle armor. “Go on, then!”

“(Y/n)!” Zoe calls. “Beware!”

(Y/n) knows what Zoe is warning her about. Chiron had told her a long time ago: Immortals are constrained by ancient rules. But a hero can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as she has the nerve. Once (Y/n) attacked, however, Atlas would be free to attack back directly with all his might. 

(Y/n) swings her sword, but Atlas knocks her aside with the shaft of his javelin. (Y/n) flies through the air, and slams into a black wall. It isn’t Mist anymore. The palace is rising, brick by brick. It’s becoming real.

“Fool!” Atlas screams gleefully, swatting aside one of Zoe’s arrows. “Did you think, simply because you could challenge that petty war god, that you could stand up to me?” 

The mention of Ares sets a jolt through (Y/n), and, ignoring her throbbing ribs, she shakes off her daze and charges again. 

The javelin’s point slashes towards (Y/n) like a scythe. She raises Tsunami, planning to cut off the Titan’s weapon at the shaft, but her arm feels like lead. Suddenly, the sword weighs a ton. 

And then (Y/n) remembers Ares's warning, spoken on the beach in Los Angeles so long ago:

When you need it most, your sword will fail you.

Not now! (Y/n) pleads. But it is no good. She tries to dodge, but the javelin catches her in the chest and sends (Y/n) flying like a rag doll. (Y/n) slams into the ground, her head spinning. (Y/n) looks up and finds herself at the feet of Artemis, still straining under the weight of the sky.

“Run, girl,” she tells (Y/n). “You must run!”

Atlas is taking his time coming towards (Y/n). My sword is gone. It had skittered away over the edge of the cliff. It might reappear in her pocket—maybe in a few seconds—but it doesn’t matter. (Y/n) would be dead by then. Luke and Thalia are fighting like demons, lightning crackling around them. Percy is fighting the dracaenae, and Annabeth is on the ground, desperately struggling to free her hands.

“Die, little hero!” Atlas says. He raises his javelin to impale (Y/n). 

“No!” Zoe yells, and volley of silver arrows sprout from the armpit chink in Atlas’s armor. 

“ARGH!” he bellows and turns back towards his daughter. 

(Y/n) reaches down and feels Tsunami back in her pocket. She couldn’t fight Atlas, even with a sword. And then a chill goes down her back. She remembers the words of the prophecy: The Titan’s curse must one withstand. (Y/n) couldn’t hope to beat Atlas, but there is someone who might stand a chance. 

“The sky,” (Y/n) tells the goddess. “Give it to me.”

"No, girl," Artemis says. Her forehead is beaded with metallic sweat, like quicksilver. "You don't know what you're asking. It will crush you!"

"Annabeth took it!"

"She barely survived. She had the spirit of a true huntress. You will not last so long."

"I'll die anyway," (Y/n) replies. "Give me the weight of the sky!"

(Y/n) doesn’t wait for her answer. She takes out Tsunami and slashes through her chains. Then she steps next to her and braces herself on one knee—holding up her hands—and touches the cold, heavy clouds. For a moment, Artemis and (Y/n) bare the weight together. It was the heaviest thing she'd ever felt, as if (Y/n) was being crushed under a thousand trucks. She wanted to black out from the pain, but (Y/n) breathes deeply. I can do this.

Then Artemis slips out from under the burden, and (Y/n) holds it alone. 

Every muscle in (Y/n)’s body turns to fire. Her bones feel like they’re melting. She wants to scream, but she doesn’t have the strength to open her mouth. She begins to sink, lower and lower to the ground, the sky’s weight crushing her.

(Y/n) concentrates on breathing. (Y/n) thinks about Bianca, who’d given her life so they could get to this moment. If she could do that, then (Y/n) could hold the sky.

(Y/n)’s vision turns fuzzy. Everything is tinged with red. She catches glimpses of the battle, but she isn’t sure if she is seeing anything clearly. There is Atlas in full battle armor, jabbing with his javelin, laughing insanely as he fights. And Artemis, a blur of silver. She has two wicked hunting knives, each as long as her arm, and she slashes wildly at the Titan, dodging and leaping with unbelievable grace. She seems to change form as she maneuvers. She is a tiger, a gazelle, a bear, a falcon. Or perhaps that was just (Y/n)’s fevered brain. Zoe shoots arrows at her father, aiming for the chinks in his armor. He roars in pain each time one finds its mark, but they affect him like bee stings. He just gets madder and keeps fighting.

Thalia and Luke go spear on sword, lighting still flashing around them. Thalia presses Luke back with the aura of her shield. Even he is not immune to it. He retreats, wincing and growing in frustration. 

"Yield!" Thalia yells. "You never could beat me, Luke."

He bares his teeth. "Well see, my old friend."

Sweat pours down (Y/n)’s face. Her hands are slippery. Her shoulders would've screamed with agony if they could. (Y/n) feels like the vertebrae in her spine are being welded together by a blowtorch.

In her daze, (Y/n) can’t place Percy’s or Annabeth’s positions. She watches, however, as Artemis advances. The goddess was fast, but the Titan’s strength is impossible. His javelin slammed into the earth where Artemis had been a split second before, and a fissure opens in the rocks. He leaps over it and keeps pursuing her. The goddess was leading him back towards (Y/n). 

Get ready, the goddess speaks in her mind. 

(Y/n) is loosing the abulity to think through the pain in her ribs. Her responce is somthing like agggghh-owwwww.

“You fight well for a girl,” Atlas laughs. “But you are no match for me.”

He feints with teh tip of his javelin and Artemis dodges. (Y/n) sees the trick coming. Atlas’s javelin sweeps around and knocks Artemis’s legs off the ground. She falls, and Atlas brings up his javelin tip for the kill. 

"No!" Zoe screams. She leaps between her father and Artemis and shoots an arrow straight into the Titan's forehead, where it lodges like a unicorn's horn. Atlas bellows in rage. He sweeps aside his daughter with the back of his hand, sending her flying into the black rocks.

(Y/n) wasnts to shout her name, or run to her friend’s aid, but she can’t speak or move. She couldn’t even see where Zoe had landed. Then Atlas turns on Artemis with a look of triumph in his face. Artemis seems to be wounded. And she doesn’t get up. 

"The first blood in a new war," Atlas gloats. And he stabs downward.

As fast as thought, Artemis grabs his javelin shaft. It hits the earth right next to her and she pulls backward, using the javelin like a lever, kicking the Titan Lord and sending him flying over her, (Y/n) sees him coming down on top of her and she realizes what would happen. (Y/n) loosened her hold on the sky, and as Atlas slams into her, she doesn’t try to hold on. (Y/n) lets herself be pushed out of the way and she rolls.

The weight of the sky drops onto Atlas’s back, almost smashing him flat until he manages to get to his kness, strugging to get out from under the crushing weight of the sky. But it is too late. 

"Noooooo!" He bellows so hard it shakes the mountain. "Not again!"

Atlas is trapped under his old burden. (Y/n) tried to stand and fell back again, dazed from pain. Her body feels like it was burning up.

Thalia backs Luke to the edge of a cliff, but still they fought on, next to the golden coffin. Thalia has tears in her eyes. Luke has a bloody slash across his chest and his pale face glistened with sweat.

He lunges at Thalia and she slams him with her shield. Luke's sword spins out of his

hands and clatters to the rocks. Thalia puts her spear point to his throat.

For a moment, there is silence. 

“Well?” Luke asks. He tries to hide it, but (Y/n) can hear the fear in his voice. 

Thalia trembles with fury.

Behind her, Annabeth comes scrambling, finally free from her bonds. Her face is bruised and streaked with dirt. "Don't kill him!"

"He's a traitor," Thalia says. "A traitor!"

In her daze, (Y/n) realizes that Artemis is no longer with her, and Percy had taken the goddess’s place at her side. The goddess had run off toward theblack rocks where Zoe had fallen.

"We'll bring Luke back," Annabeth pleads. "To Olympus. He . . . he'll be useful."

"Is that what you want, Thalia?" Luke sneers. "To go back to Olympus in triumph? To please your dad?"

Thalia hesitats, and Luke makes a desperate grab for her spear.

"No!" Annabeth shouts. But without thinking, Thalia kicks Luke away. He looses his balance, terror on his face, and then he falls.

"Luke!" Annabeth screams.

Percy helps (Y/n) as they rush to the cliff’s edge. Below them, the army from the Princess Andromeda had stopped in amazement. They are staring at Luke’s broken from from teh rocks. Despite how much (Y/n) hated him, she couldn’t stand to see it. She wants to belive the son of Hermes is still alive, but that is impossible. The fall is at least fifty feet, and he isn’t moving.

One of the giants looks up and growls, "Kill them!"

Thalia is stiff with grief, tears streaming down her cheeks. (Y/n) pulls her back as a wave of javelins sail over their heads. They run for the rocks, ignoring the curses and threats of Atlas as they pass.

"Artemis!" Percy yells.

The goddess looks up, her face almost as grief-stricken as Thalia's. Zoe lies in the goddess's arms. She is breathing. Her eyes are open. But still . . .

"The wound is poisoned," Artemis says.

"Atlas poisoned her?" Percy asks.

"No," the goddess says. "Not Atlas."

Artemis shows them the wound in Zoe’s side. (Y/n) had almost forgotten her scrape with Ladon the dragon. The bite is so much worse than Zoe had let on. (Y/n) can barely look at the wound. Zoe had charged into battle against her father with a horrible cut already sapping her strengh. 

(Y/n) feels a hand lacing through her’s. She glances over to find Annabeth standing beside her. 

“The stars,” Zoe murmurs. “I cannot see them.”

“Nectar and ambrosia,” Percy says. “Come one. We have to get her some.”

No one moves. Grief hangs in the air. Even Artemis is too shocked to stir. The demigods may have met their doom right there, but then (Y/n) hears a strang buzzing noise. 

Just as the army of monsters come over the hill, a Sopwith Camel swoops down out of the sky. 

“Get away from my daugther!” Dr. Chase calls down, and his machine guns burst to life, peppering the groud with bullet holes and startling the whole group of monsters into scattering.

“Dad?” yells Annabeth in disbelief.

“Run!” he calls back, his voice growing fainter as the biplane swoops by. 

This shakes Artemis out of her grief. She stares up at teh antique plane, which is now coming back for another strafe. 

"A brave man," Artemis says with grudging approval. "Come, We must get Zoe away from here." She raises her hunting horn to her lips, and its clear sound echoes down the valleys of Marin. Zoe's eyes are fluttering.

"Hang in there!" Percy tells her. "It'll be all right!"

The Sopwith Camel swoops down again. A few giants threw javelins, and one flew straight between the wings of the plane, but the machine guns blazed. I realized with amazement that somehow Dr. Chase must've gotten hold of celestial bronze to fashion his bullets. The first row of snake women wailed as the machine gun's volley blew them into sulfurous yellow powder.

"That's . . . my dad!" Annabeth says in amazement.

They don’t have time to admire his flying. The giants and snake women are already recovering from their surprise. Dr. Chase would be in trouble soon.

Just then, the moonlight brights, and a silver chariot appears from the sky, drawn by the most beautiful deer (Y/n) had ever seen. It lands right next to them.

"Get in," Artemis says.

Annabeth helps (Y/n) get Thalia on board, and Percy helps Artemis with Zoe. They wrap

Zoe in a blanket as Artemis pulls the reins and the chariot sped away from the mountain,

straight into the air.

"Like Santa Claus's sleigh," (Y/n) murmurs, still dazed with pain.

Artemis takes time to look back at her. "Indeed, young half-blood. And where do you think that legend came from?"

Seeing them safely away, Dr. Chase turns his biplane and follows like an honor guard. It must have been one of the strangest sights ever, even for the Bay Area: a silver flying chariot pulled by deer, escorted by a Sopwith Camel.

Behind them, the army of Kronos roars in anger as they gather on the summit of Mount Tamalpais, but the loudest sound is the voice of Atlas, bellowing curses against the gods as he struggles under the weight of the sky.

. . . 

Annabeth and (Y/n) fly along side by side on the back of the pegasai. 

“Your dad seems cool,” (Y/n) tells Annabeth. 

It was too dark to see her girlfriend’s expression. She looks back, though California is far behind them now. 

“I guess so,” Annabeth replies. “We’ve been arguing for so many years.”

“Mhmm,” (Y/n) hums. “You mentioned that.”

“You think I was lying about that?” It sounds like a challenge to (Y/n), but a pretty half-hearted one, like she is asking it of herself.

"I didn't say you were lying. It's just . . . he seems okay. Your stepmom, too. Maybe they've, uh, gotten cooler since you saw them last."

She hesitates. "They're still in San Francisco, Percy. I can't live so far from camp."

(Y/n) doesn’t want to ask her next question. She is scared to know the answer. But I asks it anyway. "So what are you going to do now?"

They fly over a town, an island of lights in the middle of the dark. It whisks by so fast they might've been in an airplane.

"I don't know," she admits. "But thank you for rescuing me."

"Hey, you’re my girlfriend. I would go through Tartarus to rescue you."

"You didn't believe I was dead?"

"Never."

She hesitates. "Neither is Luke, you know. I mean . . . he isn't dead."

(Y/n) stares at her. She doesn’t know if Annabeth is cracking under the stress or what. "Annabeth, that fall was pretty bad. There's no way —"

"He isn't dead," she insistas. "I know it. The same way you knew about me."

Word Count: 5630 Words

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER

Gojo has had better ideas than putting all of your friends together in one house, but at least you have a pool. 

wc — 2k

tags — large friend group, set after cruel summer but can be read as a stand alone, summer vacation

It’s already evening by the time you arrive. The sun is still warming the sky, but it’s descending steadily. It’s a shame. You had wanted to be there earlier. 

The minute you step out of the car and onto the grass, verdant in a way it never is in Tokyo, a large shape comes hurtling across the grass to snatch you up. Gojo grabs you around the waist and hauls you up so you’re trapped, kicking uselessly as he spins you around. He’s always been too strong for you. You pound his shoulders with your fists uselessly, demanding to be put down. 

“Hi,” he says breathlessly when he finally does. “What took you so long? I was waiting for you.” 

That shouldn’t make you as pleased as you are, but it does. You allow yourself a small indulgence, gentle brushing one stray lock of hair out of his face. He nuzzles into your touch like an overgrown cat, so sure of himself and what he deserves. 

Ijichi clears his throat. He cowers when Gojo shoots him a nasty look. You press your hand over his face and shove him back, leaning into the car through the passenger seat window to talk to the poor man. 

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

He eyes Gojo. “Absolutely, ma’am.” 

“I’ve told you that you don’t have to call me that,” you say affectionately. “I’m only two years above you, you know. Have a safe trip back.” 

As soon as he’s determined you’re done with your conversation, Gojo pulls you back to his side. He’s too handsy in a way only he can be, the way he always has been. He slings an arm around your shoulder as he steers you towards the house. You can hear music coming from inside, the strains of some pop melody off the radio’s top 100. Over it, Getou’s voice croons the lyrics, sweet and cheerful. 

It’s a beautiful house. Utahime picked it out and Gojo paid for it. It’s a beautiful pale blue, even more faded from the constant wear and tear of salt spray so it matches the soft hues of a perfectly sunny sky. The white trim makes it look like it’s been pulled off a movie set. It’s an adorable little thing. Utahime did a good job. 

As soon as you step through the doors, you’re attacked again. Haibara crashes into your arms so forcefully you knock backwards into Gojo, feeling your breath being crushed out of your chest. You wheeze in response, but still bring a hand up to stroke the crown of his head. You can’t be mad at him for being so excited to see you. 

Gojo can.

“Hey,” he warns, peeling Haibara off you. “Gotta be more careful.” 

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that you, Gojo, Getou and Shoko are the oldest now. Utahime graduated this year. 

“Sorry,” Haibara whines. Then he jumps on Gojo, too. 

Gojo laughs and pats his back. “You saw me two minutes ago, man.” 

As Haibara clings on to Gojo like a suckerfish, testing how long Gojo can put up with him, Nanami gets up off the couch. “Here,” he says, a hand out for your bags. “Let me take your things.” 

You follow him into the kitchen, where Getou and Utahime are arguing furiously. Shoko, without a care in the world, sits by the sink with her headphones in. Her eyes are closed, hair ruffled by the breeze coming in through the window. It’s beautiful outside. The previous owner had planted an apple tree right by the window, and now pink blossoms press against the glass like kisses. 

Utahime lights up when she sees you, opening her arms to you immediately. She looks so domestic in her white, frilly apron and floral sundress. Some part of you wants to fall into her arms forever. She laughs as she peppers your head with kisses. “So spoiled,” she says, but you know she loves you. She wouldn’t baby you so much otherwise. 

Of your entire class, Utahime had met you first. You were her first underclassman. She’s always been softer towards you and Shoko, but you have a special place in her heart. 

Getou’s a little more patient than Gojo is. He waits his turn for Utahime to release you before he scoops you up in a hug as well. You’re still wondering when Gojo and Getou will stop growing. It’s getting a little uncomfortable to hug them at this point. Even standing on your tip toes can’t get your arms over their shoulders, so your feet lift off the ground when he hugs you back. 

Shoko moves over on her seat to make room for you as the only two competent chefs in the entire house go back to arguing. Utahime throws syrup and ice in a shaker as she talks, pouring it into a tall glass of some sparkling liquid.

“No drinking before the pool,” she tells you as she hands you her signature mocktail. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” 

Getou rolls his eyes. “What are you worried about? Gojo and I are there.” 

She shoves his shoulder to get to the stack of plates she’s prepared. “Just because you guys are special grace sorcerers, you think you’re lifeguards too?” 

“Come on,” you interrupt. “No fighting, please! We’re here to have fun.” 

Utahime pauses on her way to the plates. She sighs, turns around, and plants another kiss on your hair. “Alright, alright. Truce?”

“We were never fighting.” 

You and Shoko exchange a look. Out back, Gojo has the grill set up. Nanami had taken your things to your room, but Haibara was already in the pool swimming laps. 

“Finally,” Gojo says when he sees the four of you coming with plates of food. 

“Show some gratitude,” Getou tells him playfully. “Utahime and I put a lot of work into these, you know.” 

Gojo’s already adding skewers to the grill. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Thank you mom and dad, we’re so appreciative of everything you do for us.” 

“Brat,” Utahime says, coming to your side. “Isn’t he such a little jerk?” 

You laugh. 

“She loves me,” Gojo says confidently. “She’s on my side.” 

That’s when Getou gets a sneaky look in his eye. “Want me to take over the grill?” 

“Nah,” Gojo says. “I’m better than you so- whoa!”

Getou snags Gojo by the waist and drags him towards the pool. He, in turn, grabs your wrist and takes you with him. When Getou dumps him in, you take the plunge too. 

Underneath the water, you open your eyes. Gojo’s white hair has turned blue in this underwater light, a few shades lighter than his electric eyes. He’s watching you back, his lips curved into a smile. 

Then, he grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you up with him. Breaking the surface, you gasp for air. 

“Are you okay?” Utahime calls. 

Gojo gives her a thumbs up as he starts pushing your wet hair away from where it hangs in your face. His hands are as pretty as the rest of him, long and slim, but they feel almost rough as he works. Maybe it’s the friction of the water against your skin. 

His hands feel good. He’s just touching you normally, but even the slightest bit of contact has your stomach in knots. 

For a second, you think he’s going to kiss you again, like he did last summer, but he just affectionately bumps your cheek with his. 

“Are you happy?” He asks, treading water. 

You follow him, regardless of where he’s going. “I’m always happy when we’re together. All of us.” 

He smiles. “Then I’m happy too.” 

Having finally reached his destination, he grabs the water gun floating on the surface of the pool that Haibara had left in earlier. Just as Nanami steps outside, he aims. 

Bullseye. 

Nanami curses him out as Haibara, who was on his way to greet him, ducks and weaves, ditching his best friend. Sometimes there are casualties in war, and he knows how to cut his losses. 

“I’ll avenge you!” He vows, tears in his eyes as he goes for the second gun. His aim is terrible. Instead of hitting Gojo, he hits you. 

Just as Gojo aims, Utahime calls,” Food’s ready!” 

It gives you deja vu. From the look on Gojo’s face, he feels the same. He gets out of the pool first and offers you a hand. You use it to pull him back in and climb out yourself. 

“Brat,” he mutters, parodying Utahime’s words. 

You just giggle, leaning into his side as the two of you walk towards the candlelit table. Utahime really does look like a mother in this light, her soft black hair falling over her shoulder. It’s slightly frizzy from the salt of the ocean nearby, but it only makes her look more charming. She’s wearing a floral bandana to push back her hair as she bustles about arranging plates. 

Nanami, ever dutiful, gets up to help her. When he passes her, he mutters something in her ear that turns his pale cheeks red, but she only coos and calls him her good boy. That makes the blush even worse. 

Gojo gives you a knowing look that you meet readily. “Ten bucks on the end of the summer?”

“Fifteen before,” you retort. 

“Ah, but there’s Getou,” Shoko says, coming up behind you. She drapes one arm over each of your shoulders. You turn your head to press a light kiss to her wrist. 

“Who says she can’t have both?” Gojo says. 

That’s sort of the crux of the situation. Both, all. It doesn’t really matter to you how things shake out as long as you all stay together. There’s a faith in this, something larger than yourself. Your friends are a god of sorts to you. This thing that all of you share is unbreakable, holy. No matter in what form it comes, you will always love each other. 

“Oh dear,” Shoko says, watching Haibara struggle under a stack of plates he insisted he could carry. “I’ll be right back.” 

Gojo secures you two one of the loveseats around the table. When you sneeze, he grabs a towel from the stack Nanami set out earlier and wraps it around you. You lean into him, relishing his warmth as he wraps an arm around you. 

“Nanami,” he calls. 

“No.” 

“Do me a favor?”

“I’d rather die.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we all know about your emo taste in music. Can you wrap a blanket around us?” 

“Why can’t you do it yourself?” 

“But I want you to tuck me in, please?” 

Utahime’s watching him. He brings the blanket. 

“Good boy,” Gojo coos, and Nanami turns bright red again. He stalks off to help Getou cook the last of the food, his shoulders rigid. 

“You tease him too much,” you tell Gojo as he settles in. Utahime comes by with a plate she already prepared for the two of you. Gojo blows her a kiss when he notices she’s piled his favorites on. She scoffs, but she’s pleased. 

She knows your favorites too. You snag her wrist and press a kiss to her hand. She ruffles your hair affectionately. “Eat up,” she tells you. “We have plenty more.” 

Slowly, the seats around you fill up. Shoko, carrying half of Haibara’s now much lower stack of plates, settles in on your right. Getou sits with her, letting her sprawl across him. He should be the one asking for more room, being so much taller, but it gives him more joy to indulge her. He feeds her a skewer by hand. 

Nanami and Haibara surround Utahime on either side. She rests her head on Nanami’s shoulder, taking slow, small bites. She’s always been elegant like that. Haibara leans against her in turn, chowing down with relish. Nanami hands him a napkin when he inevitably gets messy. 

When you’re done cataloguing your friends, making sure they’re comfortable, you realize you’re being watched yourself. Gojo’s eyes are intent. 

“Are you happy?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?” You laugh. 

He pretends to bristle. “What, I can’t care about my friends?” 

You give him a look that says please be serious. 

“Hey! I’m a changed man, you know. I can think about other people.” 

You laugh and snuggle in closer to him, letting his body heat continue to warm you up. “I’m just teasing. I know you care about us.” 

“So?”

“I’m always happy when we’re all together.” 

“Okay,” Gojo says softly. He pulls the blanket over your heads for a minute. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he presses a light kiss to the corner of your lip. “I’ll make it happen then.” 

“Hey!” Getou kicks Gojo in the leg. “What are you guys doing under there? Hands where we can see them, mister!”

[slutouttanowhere]

WIP WEEK

Drew McIntyre x (plus size) Black!oc

Warnings: Not for Minors, unprotected sex, light fem dom mentions, rough sex.

A/n: aside from the fact I’ve been desperate to post something, it’s a wip week, and this is a scene for a fic that’s already posted(‘Never Lose Me’ see masterlist). The chapter in general was already getting way too long so I cut this part out so I guess you can call this an alternate ending….that still somehow isn’t finished. This wip even though it relates to an already made plot, I remixed it a little for funsies. Hope you enjoy, follow me for more. Title inspired by Better Than Me by Doja Cat

Better Than Me

Drew hooked his finger underneath my chin, and gently turned my face back to him, his gray-blue irises looked like a stormy sky. His eyebrows drawn together, he said, “She never took me away from you.” He declared, no longer upset with him, and Mandy long forgotten, I launched myself onto Drew’s side of the sofa. My arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, and my face nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

A strong scent of tea tree mint wafted into my nostrils, my lips turned upward into a smile for the first time today. Just as he was wrapping his arms around my waist I pulled back, “Are you still washing your hair with the same hair company I recommend?”

“Of course, why would I change it?” His lips curled into a playful grin, my fingers played with his soft, dark hair. He never let it get too long, he usually kept it trimmed at his shoulders. His hands crept underneath my sweater top, caressing my skin, slowly moving up, and down my back. I straddled his waist, my knees on either side of his thighs, and I stood up on my knees so that I now towered over him.

“I love seeing you like this, so fucking beautiful.” He breathed, his hands slid up my thighs to my hips, then moved further up to my waistline and squeezed me in his palms. “So soft.” He whispered as his hands continued to worship me. On his way back down his fingers gently traced over the stretch marks along my hips before moving on to my ass. He gripped a handful of my booty in both his hands, and spread my cheeks apart. “Can I taste you…please.”

A dark sensation washed over me, and I was suddenly in the mood. My fingers gripped his hair with authority, and pulled his head back. Drew let out a deep groan, his nails digging into my flesh, but the stinging sensations sent a tingle down my spine and right between my legs. “I liked it when you begged me, you should do it more often.” I whispered, my lips just barely touched his, and when he tried to move his head to meet me halfway, I yanked his hair.

“Relax baby doll.” I teased, I trailed kisses down his neck, licking, and sucking his skin as I went. His body melted under my lips, I pulled his shirt over his head, and continued to pepper kisses across his broad chest.

When I get past his belly button he starts to make a fuss, “We don’t have to–

“Don’t speak unless I say so, you deserve this.” I snapped at him, Drew’s lips pressed together agreeing to be compliant. I understood that he could physically overpower me if he wanted, and since he didn’t I knew he craved this tonight.

“Look at where acting like a slut got you, right back to me.” I traced the line of hair that ran from his bellybutton, and disappeared underneath his jeans. The hairs across his chest, and stomach were soft, thin, and even spreaded. Such a drastic difference than when we first met, he was damn near hairless.

“Take off your jeans.” I ordered him, nearly jumping up off the sofa, and doing what was told. The cats had long since abandoned us, and my food had gotten cold as it sat half eaten on the glass coffee table. He kicked his jeans off, “briefs too cowboy.” I teased, he was hasty with his movements not wanting to waste a second, I patted his spot where he was sitting. “Sit.” My voice dropped to a whisper, I moaned out upon seeing his semi hardened cock. He was thicker than I remembered, fat even, it flopped around as he got back into a comfortable sitting position. The sound of his flesh slapping against flesh made my pussy tingle with desire.

He reached his hand down to wrap around himself but I smacked his hand away, a look of annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Oh you still think this about you tonight? You can leave ya know?” I folded my arms over my chest, daring him to challenge me, but he didn’t move off the couch.

“Desiree please—

I cut him off before he could continue, “Do it again.” I smirked, my heart beating excitedly, I was getting a rush of adrenaline from the power I was feeling.

“Say…please.” I mocked in a melodic voice, I sat perched on my knees beside him, I placed my hand on his thigh. His eyes slid closed, I leaned in, tucked his hair behind his ear, and softly kissed the tip of his ear. “I hate to have to ask twice.” I whispered huskily, my hand crept up his thigh, and up to his lower stomach. He still didn’t give, his eyelids snapped open, they sparkled with defiance. I bit my lip to hold back my laughter.

“Always thought you were a brat, that’s fine.” I shrugged, my hand ghosted over his tip, I watched his face closely as I gently swiped the pre-cum off with my index finger. He watched as I brought my finger up to my lips, flicking my tongue out, and licking the stickiness off. I licked my hand, then reached down again, this time gripping his dick in my palm; not too tightly, but just the way he liked.

“Shit, please, I just need to feel your lips. I missed them so much, please.” He begged, his breathing deepened, and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

My unoccupied hand reached up to wrap around the top of his head, I caressed his hair like a pet. “That’s a good boy, now, was that so hard?” I pulled my sweater over my head revealing my bare breast, Drew’s eyes dropped to my chest, I could feel his fingers twitch against my thigh where his hand rested. His eyes darted back up to my face, and back to my chest, wordlessly asking me for permission. I lifted an eyebrow questioning him.

“Can I touch you?” He blurted out as if he had been holding his breath, I stifled a laugh, and wondered to myself if this was how I looked when our roles were reversed.

“You can touch me anywhere you want.” I caved, though I’m proud of myself for getting this far, and astounded Drew allowed my shenanigans to ensue. I missed the way he touched me, he’s always gentle as if he might break me.

His hand slid from my thigh up the side of my hip, and around to my lower back. The other grasped onto my hand, placed it back around his dick, the tip of him peeking out more and more as he became more aroused. “Fuck, you always know how to stroke me princess.” He groaned, he grabbed me by the chin, and met me halfway in a deep, heated kiss. Our lips intertwined as we moaned into each other, wordlessly begging for more.

“Tell me what you want from me first.” Drew mumbled between kisses, his hands caressing my body, and found their way to my breast. His fingers took my nipple between his thick fingers, at first he squeezed gently as if testing his own strength, but then applying pressure.

My back arched, stinging sensation traveled down to the core of me between my thighs. “My pussy, I need it.” My whine, I held on to his large shoulder for balance. Drew sucked on my skin, following up with wet sloppy kisses, then repeating the same with my other breast. He presses his face into my cleavage then breaths me in, his hands on my back, nails digging into my skin as he drags them down. I let out a shuddering breath, for a moment we just stay there like that.

“Lay back.” He murmurs against my skin, then kisses me one last time before letting me go so I could reposition myself. I rest comfortably on the sofa pillows, my hands found their way to my breast, and lightly ghost over my nipples. The tickling sensation causes them to tighten, almost painfully; I open my eyes to see Drew already staring down at me, slowly stroking himself. I place my feet on his thighs, and slide them up, replacing his hands. “Fuck, that feels good princess.” He moaned as I gently brushed my toes against him, his eyes closed for a moment, and his breaths deepened. Grabbing me by my legs, and pushing them back further, and spreading me open wider. He lowered between my thighs pressing his lips softly, and leaving a wet trail of kisses down to my core.

“Spread it open for me sweetheart.” He instructed huskily, his chest rising and falling, and sweat lining his forehead. His eyes watched mine as my hands moved down between my sticky thighs, I slipped two of my fingers into my vagina. Drew’s eyes were intently focused on my hand, when I slowly pulled my fingers out, and spread myself wide for him. He licked his lips, then gently, he pushed himself into me. Not only had it been two years of not being with him, but a long two years of not having the touch of a man at all. I had hit a depressive low causing my desires to fully leave my body, I didn’t want to be looked at or touched by anyone but myself. Drew stretched me in a way I had forgotten about, he slowly, and carefully slid into me. At first the pain was unavoidable, my hands gripped his sides, and I couldn’t help the way my nails dug into his flesh.

“Drew.” I cried, my eyes began to water, but soon the pain was gone after a few more thrust. My muscles gripped around him, and my arm hooked around the back of his neck.The way he was rocking my body from his rough hip thrusting I needed something to hold on to.

“I know princess, it’s been a while, but I swear to you I won’t make you wait any longer.” He grunted, his accent thicker than before, and I loved every bit of it. My other hand pulled at his thick, dark beard, our gazes intensely locked on each other, and our breaths nearly matching.

“I bet you never fucked Mandy like this.” I breathed out, his body lowered on top of me as if trying to get as close as humanly possible. His body weight pressed me into the bed making it difficult for me to breathe, but his strokes felt too good for me to care.

“Fuck no baby, being inside you is something I’ve dreamt about—ugh god you’re pussy is so fucking good, I wanna cum in it.” He moaned out, he slowed his pace nearly pulling all the way out of me, and slammed back in.

Wrapping my legs and thighs around his waist, and arching my back off the sheets, my words came out barely above a whisper but he heard me. “Give it to me.” Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around me holding me closer to him, his hips drilled into me at a pace I couldn’t keep up with. Both our bodies overhead in a sheen of sweat, my bonnet long since slid off, and all my coils fanned out around my head.

“I'm all yours, fuck I’m so close.” He whimpered out, I couldn’t even see straight, my muscles were tense, and my pussy throbbed pleasurably. The back of my head pressed against the pillow, I could feel my own wetness roll down my thighs, and I knew I was done for.

“Tell me I’m yours, I need to hear it, please.” Drew begged in my ear, his lips pressed to me, and I wish I had the ability to argue right now because I sure as fuck didn’t have the ability to talk.

“Mine, mine, mine, you’re —ah!” My own orgasm cut me off, my words caught in my throat, my whole body prickled with goosebumps. Never had he made me cum as hard as I did right then. My hips twitched and spasamed underneath him, but that didn’t stop Drew from finishing us off. His hot stickiness shot inside of me, it was enough to fill me up twice, and he didn’t stop there. He pulled out of me, and watched his milky white semen spill out of me. His hand was still wrapped around his shaft slowly stroking himself, his head fell back as he sat on his knees before me. Mouth hung open, and his eyes screwed shut, I knew he wasn’t empty yet.

“Fuck I’ve got more baby.” He breathed…see I told you.

[demelzathemer]

My Heart Is a Haunted House

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 + 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘛

@dbdpromptober Day 14: Sorrow (words: 1308)

(I did it!! After five days and four rewrites, we've reached Tears to Shed. Idk why the cat king chapters are hardest to write but end up being the ones I'm most proud of)

Payneland Corpse Bride AU

First Previous

𝓘𝓯 𝓘 𝓽𝓸𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪 𝓫𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓵𝓮 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓷𝓸 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷

𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓴𝓷𝓲𝓯𝓮 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓶𝓮

𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰

𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓭

𝓨𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵

𝓣𝓻𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵

𝓘𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭

The Cat’s whiskers quivered. The wind has changed and it brought along a taste of magic. A spell has been used.

He hopped down from his spot on top of a high wall where he’d been lounging. His senses told him that Edwin had returned.

The bell jingled when a door was opened and then slammed shut. Fast footsteps made their way in a hurry. The Cat’s ear twitched. So he’d come back alone.

He picked up his pace into a trot and followed with his tail up. The cobblestone molded itself apart and shut behind Edwin, the streets splitting into multiple ways and curling into itself. The Underworld could become what the residents wanted, and what it was doing for Edwin was melting into a maze so dense no one could find him.

The Cat reached him a minute later. The alley was a dead end, pale light from the sky cut off by a tall wall, leaving a deep shadow behind. Edwin was pacing back and forth, his hands in tight fists by his sides.

Silently the Cat jumped up to sit atop a propped up coffin and elevated himself on Edwin’s level. He swung his tail once as an acknowledgment.

“He lied to me,” Edwin huffed. “He did not go to see his parents, he just left me there and walked away and when I followed, he- he-”

Edwin tugged at his hair in frustration, his whole body sharp, taunt lines. His restless hands didn’t know how to settle and he turned around again, his steps frantic.

A clicking of claws on stone and curious croak announced that Monty had finally found them as well. He hopped closer, but had to dive out of the way of Edwin’s upset stomps.

“Who is it?” The Cat asked.

“Crystal,” Edwin’s voice was strangled.

“How surprising,” the Cat drawled, voice dripping sarcasm. “Of course, it’s that messy psychic wannabe. The living can be so near-sighted.”

“He was never going to marry me,” Edwin said, his words loud and precise. “Why would he, when he has a living girl waiting for him?”

“He’s a fool. You deserve so much better, love. Don’t waste your emotions on someone like that,” the Cat yawned, rows of sharp teeth showing. “If he can’t see how amazing you are, it’s his loss, really.”

Edwin stopped, staring hard into the distance. His brows furrowed, but the tight press of his lips eased, parting helplessly.

The Cat knew that face. It was Edwin willing himself not to cry by sheer willpower alone.

“No,” he breathed. “Charles is… so good. Dare I say, the best person I’ve ever met. And that is why…”

That’s why it hurts twice as much. The Cat sighed. He’d known Edwin long enough to finish the quiet parts for him.

“That Charlie boy was suspicious from the start. I mean, who proposes out of the blue? No one knew you were even in there,” the Cat shrugged. His sleek black tail swished a long arc from side to side.

“I cannot figure out how he did it, but the truth is that he found me. If that doesn’t mean anything, it’s the cruelest joke from the universe,” Edwin said firmly.

The Cat rolled his eyes. The self-loathing rolling off of Edwin’s tongue made his skin crawl and fur standing on end.

“Look, some things are just not meant to be,” he said harshly.

“That doesn’t mean that you don’t matter.”

He hopped down and trotted over to Edwin, headbutting his leg. “Would you like to pet me? It’s the best remedy for upset feelings.”

Edwin stood still. The Cat rubbed his warm body on his legs, purring up a storm. He noticed the first salty drop that hit the pavement. Monty dared to approach again and snapped his beak, bobbing up and down for attention.

Neither of them got it. Edwin wiped his face furiously and whirled around, walking away. He tucked himself into a low alcove on the wall, back against it and legs up.

“Why would I ever think he could love me?!”

Edwin cried out. He scowled like the tears wetting his cheeks had somehow betrayed him. He dislocated his skeleton hand from the elbow and stared at it.

“No one could love me. I’m a rotting corpse!” He hissed, hurling the arm away in disgust.

“I’m a bloody, decaying body,” Edwin repeated. His voice was full of hatred but grief was glinting in his red-rimmed eyes.

Monty flapped his wings as he skipped where Edwin’s rejected arm lay abandoned. He pinched his beak around a distal phalanx and started to slowly drag it back towards him.

“What does that matter? Living is just a temporary state,” the Cat pointed out, watching him from afar. “That boy is terribly dumb to think the girl is a better choice, when she’ll be flesh and bones as well in no time.”

“That is the point!” Edwin pierced the Cat with a furious look. “He did not choose her over me, because there was never me. I was never real to him. Whatever we did, whatever we had, he can brush it all off because it never happened.”

The way he gasped was almost a sob. He tilted his chin up, all the anger gone, leaving him raw and broken. His upturned gaze betrayed the thought that was at the back of his throat, hurting, consuming him with misery.

It was real to me.

The Cat knew. He’d seen it on Edwin’s face last night. For seventy years he’d waited and waited for that moment when Charles would find him. And then he did. And Edwin, tired and lonely and lovesick, just let it all go.

Against any better judgment, he had let himself love and believe in it.

It was written all over his face, the silent awe and fervent adoration. He’d never looked at Cat or anyone else like he looked at Charles that night. For a bright, brilliant moment right there he’d trusted, truly, deeply, even if it was foolish.

That Charles would choose him. That Charles would finally be the one who could love him.

The Cat walked over to Edwin and pushed his head under his arm, forcing himself on his lap. Edwin gave in without a fight and just let his hand rest on top of soft fur. The Cat pressed his forehead against Edwin’s rib cage, where his dead heart was enclosed, unbeating yet still able to hope, love and be broken.

“Please, won’t you just go? I want to be alone,” Edwin whispered.

“Of course, dove. But I’d prefer it if you didn’t brood all alone here, out in the cold,” the Cat said.

“I can’t feel cold,” Edwin reminded tiredly. He was staring straight ahead, eyes glossed over.

Monty hopped closer, having brought his arm back. He tilted his head, worried as well, then flapped his wings twice. Edwin didn’t look at him when he mechanically reached for his arm and slotted it back into its joint.

Monty let out a soft caw and nudged his hand once with his smooth beak.

The alcove had a small fountain mounted on the wall in the shape of a skull, water trickling out of its mouth. Above it, an oval copper mirror gave off a faint gleam. Edwin stood up and put his good hand over the cool metal.

“I’m finding the study now,” he said quietly.

The surface under his fingertips rippled like quicksilver. At the end of the road, where he was staring at, the stones in a wall arranged themselves out of the way, uncovering a dark wooden door. It was carved with intricate decorations, topped with a round brass doorknob.

“I’ll see you later,” the Cat called after Edwin and watched as he walked away, sealing himself inside his office.

[sleepershell]

Azgeda Charm

synopsis The sister of Ontari from Azgeda decides it could be fun to free the sky boy pretending to be her sister’s fleimkepa.

word count 2668

note originally posted on Ao3

warnings 18+ minors please DNI, smut, swearing, penetrative sex, oral sex female receiving, dubious consent but not really, dom! reader, sub! murphy

pairing John Murphy x f!reader

“Chains? Really, she’s chained her pet up now?” She’s always been a bit overzealous, but my sister really has gotten herself into it this time. How does she expect no one to find out that she isn’t a true commander? Without the flame she’s just my idiot sister. “Give me the key. Now.”

I shove her man aside and stalk toward her quarters. He grunts, but won’t do anything about my treatment of him. If there’s anything good to say about my sister it’s that she protects me. In fact, I’m probably the only person other than Roan, Nia, and their goons who could ever talk back to her without getting skewered.

I’m quiet as I near the door, creeping extra slowly in my heavy boots. With my ear to the wood I hear the muffled sounds of her speaking to him–the scrawny Skaikru boy.

“There’s somebody else, okay? I’m sorry.” Doesn’t sound sorry to me. My breath tightens in my chest, my sister doesn’t like to be told no. And, if he fights her on it, she will certainly win, one way or another…

“Is she a commander too?” Well, you’re not really a commander are you, Ontari?

“No.” Chains rattle within. So she did have him chained up. What a charmer my sister is. I feel my heartbeat quicken but I can’t tell why. As though I’m in battle when I am not.

“Would she kill you if you ever lied to her,” The chains make a cracking sound, and I hear him grunt. “Did anything to break her trust, or upset her in any-”

I’m moving before I can think better of it. I don’t know why I would do such a horribly foolish thing but I do. When the door slams open Ontari is there, pulling him toward her by a chain that is cuffed around his neck. The look on his face is a perplexing one, hesitant but willing, typical man. I scoff. Loyalty is a myth. Ontari is bare, of course flaunting the body that has always been so much better than mine.

“Sister!” She is displeased. “You are interrupting.”

I shake my head at her. “Chit yu dula op?”

“Just having a little fun.” She grits out. I raise my brows at her, and she crosses her arms over her perky, bare breasts like an insolent child.

“Well. Glad to see you’ve learned some things about enslaving people.” I glance pointedly at the chain still in one of her hands. I can tell that upset her, but it’s true. How can she abuse her power like this when we’ve lived under the fist of others for so long? “Anyway, you wanted to know when King Roan arrived. He has.”

My sister sucks in a breath, composing herself. “Of course. Thank you, sister.” I lean in the doorway as she dresses and shift my glance over to see that her ‘fleimkepa’ is eyeing me cautiously. I narrow my eyes in return. He must be a snake to have fallen in with Ontari. Of course, I’m not much better. I’ve killed for her.

She slips past me. “And what should I do with your prisoner?” I mock.

“Don’t touch,” she hisses.

“Don’t worry.” I slam the door behind her before turning to take in the scene before me. It’s a pitiful display. The sky boy’s face is decorated in lines of dried blood, and he looks ridiculous in the robes he’s clad in. “Hello, liar.” He frowns. I can tell he doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to reveal his hand without knowing how much I already know. “What is your name?”

“People call me Murphy.”

“I didn’t ask what people call you. I asked for your name.”

He smirks but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It seems he’s used to playing pretend. “John Murphy.”

I approach him, our eyes not breaking contact. His are dark blue and difficult to read. I reach up and unlock the collar around his neck, dropping it to the floor in a loud metal thud. He isn’t bad looking. I noticed it when Ontari first began toting him around. I’m unsure if it’s the strong nose or the way his lips curl into a sarcastic smile at the slightest hint of play. He’s like a child that way.

“Well you’re welcome, John Murphy.” I turn away from him, walking toward the window. Everything is so big in Polis, and it’s startling to look down from so high up. “You should go before my sister returns.”

“Go? So you’ll disobey her?”

I can’t help but giggle at that. When I turn around he looks deadly serious. “I’m not afraid of her. Not like you, sky boy.”

“Sky boy.” He chuckles. “Alright, so if I walk out that door right now you won’t be killing me?”

“Nope.” I extend a hand toward the door. He shrugs and approaches it.

“Thanks. Your name?” He asks.

“(Y/n).” He nods. He does not go anywhere. I feel my stomach knotting. Ontari would very much not like this.

“Why do you stay with your sister?”

“She’s my sister.”

“Look, I’m not going to pry the answer out of you. You clearly don’t like her.” So casually he speaks to me, though I could easily murder him right here and anyone else surely would have already. There’s a knife at my hip, another in my boot. It would be too easy. “You could leave.”

At that, I scoff. “With you?”

“Well, I could manage getting out of here myself but it’d be a lot easier if you walked me out in chains.”

Ontari was right about him. He is smart, foxlike. I’ve always admired foxes, you know, before my sister would go in for the kill. I suddenly feel bare, but there’s no way he could know how much I’ve wanted to leave. I’ve spent my entire life in Ontari’s shadow. My perfect Natblida sister. And she has no idea the way Nia’s men would treat me behind closed doors, no idea the things I’ve done to protect her. My feet are moving now–what is it about this boy that makes me so thoughtless?

He holds out his wrists and I begin to tie them up. He flinches in pain as I pull the knot tight, and I tut at him. “Is it the sky that makes you all so weak, or just the coddling from your mothers?”

“I don’t have a mother anymore. Or a father.”

I meet his eyes, and again have no idea what I see in them.

“Then we are the same. Come on.” I yank him along with me, taking a huge breath before leaving the room. This could be very easy or end in Ontari slaying him on sight and finding some way to punish me. Why did I care if this pet of her’s died? “Hurry.” I hissed.

We’ve made it down the first hallway when I hear sounds from around the next corner. Luckily, there’s a shallow alcove in the dark to our left. I slam him into it, clasping my hand over his mouth and pressing my body tight against him. Hopefully this will be enough. He winks at me and I glare back.

Whoever it was passes us without incident, and we make the rest of our journey out undetected. Outside, he holds his hands out to me.

“I don’t think so.” I grin.

“Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into now.”

I lead him out of Polis, toward the surrounding forest where we won’t be so easily found. Pleased with our progress, I stop to rest.

“Are you letting me out of this anytime soon or should I be trying to escape?”

With my back to him, I ask the question that’s been on my mind. “You said to my sister there’s someone else. Is there?”

“There was. But, no, not anymore.” It’s a loaded answer, but one that causes my stomach to flutter regardless.

“So, you rejected your commander even without another woman on your mind?”

“We both know she isn’t a commander. And I don’t have a commander. Kind of a loner, when I’m not chained up.”

I turn. “And you find yourself chained up often, I assume?”

He shrugs. “More often than I’d like.”

I take a step toward him. If I could just read him this wouldn’t be so difficult. But if there’s one language I’m familiar with, it’s force. So, as I walk past him, I kick his knees out from under and he falls forward onto them. “So I’m to believe you don’t like being tied up?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I circle him, his eyes trained on me.

“How far would you go?” I am so out of my depth, but the way he looks up at me from below is like a drug. I could be this girl, the one who makes men fall on their knees. Maybe that’s who I am when men aren’t asking me to talk to my sister for them.

He blinks, and the first real smile I’ve seen breaks out on his face. “I’m yours.”

Those words alone send me into a frenzy. A sound escapes my throat and I grab him by the back of his head smashing my lips into his. He knows more of this than I do, I can tell, but when I back away there’s nothing mocking in the way he looks at me.

I take off my jacket first, then hesitate. This is the part I’ve always feared. “I don’t look like Ontari.” As if he couldn’t see already that she was built athletic and delicate like a doe and I was certainly not.

“And?” What an ass. But it works. I swallow and began to undress. As I do so, I don’t expect him to say anything. I know I’m bigger than her. But I can still have this. I don’t look at him until he clears his throat. “You’re beautiful.”

“What?” I croak.

“Do you need me to say it again? I want you.”

That’s it. I close the space between us. He eyes my tits from below. “Touch me.” I command.

He lifts his bound hands and raises a brow. I Shake my head ‘no.’ He'll have to figure it out. And he does. He brushes them up one leg and I shiver. He traces figure eights at the apex of my thighs. I part my legs in response, then grab his hand and bring it to my mouth. I take his first two fingers as far as they go, getting them wet, before returning them to him.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. He brushes his fingers over my folds and then parts them. The fingers find their way to my entrance and I let out a moan. In response, he dives into me, pulling his fingers almost out before sliding them back in, over and over. His index finger curls inside me and my legs threaten to give out.

“John.” His eyes shoot up to me, as though I’ve said something more jarring than his own name. “I want your tongue.”

I lean back on the rough bark of a nearby tree and tilt my pelvis forward to give him access. He wastes no time in finding my clit, swirling his tongue around it. It’s almost too much all at once and I pull back.

“Can’t handle it?” I give him a halfhearted smack across the cheek, and it gives him all the answer he needs. His mouth finds me again, this time determined and rhythmic. Fuck. Who taught him how to do that?

My fingers find their way into his hair, and I tug at it as his mouth brings me closer and closer to oblivion. As it nears, I can’t hold back my whimpering moans, and he groans in response, the vibration of it sending me over the edge entirely. Braced against the tree, my body tremors in pleasure. When I glance back down he looks too smug.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, nothing. Although you might want to work on your knot tying.” He raises the rope I’d tied around his wrists, his face smug.

I trace a finger down the side of his face, down along his neck. When I reach his chest, I give a hard shove, knocking him back onto the ground. While he’s still in shock, I grasp his hands and pin them down. Now he looks hungry.

“Would you like to be let go?” I ask in the sweetest voice I can muster, fluttering my eyelashes.

He shakes his head once. His eyes do not meet me, but are focused on my breasts which dangle right above him. I know what he wants, so I lean closer and he takes one of my nipples in his mouth. His tongue swirls, and I feel the hardness in his pants against my swollen cunt. I can’t help but rub myself on it and soon can’t take it anymore.

I let go of my grasp on him so I can undo the buttons on his pants. Apparently I take too long, because he slips his hands under mine and whips his cock out for me. My eyes widen and my pussy clenches at the sight. He is much more endowed than I would’ve expected from one of the weak sky people.

“You like what you see?” He is amused, and so I give his cock a light smack. He winces.

“I could kill you.” We smile at one another. This could be a very good arrangement.

I ease myself onto his hard cock. I’m so wet from before that it slips inside me with no resistance. We both let out involuntary moans as I’m filled with him.

“Fuck, your pussy is so tight.” He gasps.

His cock is long enough that I whimper when it is fully sheathed. He looks to pleased at that, so I lean forward and let his cock fall out. He growls in frustration as I thrust my clit on him.

“If you want me to put it back in, you’re going to have to beg.”

“You’re sadistic.”

“You seem to like it quite a bit.” I look down at his cock to drive my point.

“Fine. Please ride my cock?”

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that.”

“(Y/n), please ride my fucking cock, I feel like im going to burst.”

“Yes, John.” I slide him back inside and roll my hips. His hands find their way to my waist and I start to bounce on him. He feels incredible inside me, and I start to ride harder. I want his fucking come inside me.

My hands find their way around his neck, beginning to cut off blood flow. His eyes roll back, and suddenly he’s lifting me up with his hands so that his hips can do all the work. He pounds so hard that he is hitting what feels like the very end of me. I clench around him, wanting it to never fucking end.

“Harder.” He groans, and I oblige, clenching down around his throat.

His face begins to turn color and I start to wonder if I’ve gone too far when he lets out a long, animalistic groan and I feel him twitching inside me. His pleasure goes on longer than I thought possible, and the load inside me must be huge. When he’s finished, I lay forward, letting him remain inside me. We are both spent, our panting breaths nearly in tandem as I lay bare on top of him in the forest.

I place a kiss on his jaw, close to his ear and whisper. “Well, that was fun.”

He cranes his neck to look down on me, his brows furrowed slightly. “Where are you going now?”

I realize I have no idea. I’ve never been without my sister before. So I shrug.

“I’m taking you with me.”

xx