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pedropascallme · 5 months

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After The After Party

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: “‘Have you ever noticed,’ Courtney popped her lips together, spreading the gloss, ‘That Damien only ever offers to host when he knows you’re going to come?’ She turned to you again, leaning back, elbows on the sink. ‘Almost like he just wants an excuse to have you over.’”

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) p in v sex, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, dom/sub dynamics, praise, creampie, soft!dom Damien who is also incredibly needy, mentions of drinking/alcohol, brief mention of gambling. If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: This is so dialogue heavy and I won't even apologize for it. Dedicated to the idiots to lovers mfs out there <3 part 2 here!!

Long shoot blocks, you’d learned, usually devolved into long nights out. The cast and crew—or, at least, those of whom had the time and the desire to let loose—often found themselves in bars with high ceilings, with music playing too loud, and drinks that were just strong enough. There were nights when you lost Arasha and Amanda to the grimy dancefloor as soon as you passed the threshold, and nights when you watched from afar as Chanse cozied up to a beautiful stranger.

You liked listening to your friends talk and laugh as if you weren’t all exhausted after the grueling work week.

You liked feeling like part of something.

Some nights, though, when Shayne and Spencer got tired of hugging the wall, and when you’d all realized how expensive it was to go out as often as you did, someone would offer their house as a respite from the outside world. It was a chance to avoid prying eyes and the same top 40 hits that seemed to play at every bar.

Now, you found yourself at Damien’s house; someone had dimmed the lights, and from your spot on the couch you could hear glasses clinking in the kitchen as Tommy poured various liquids into a makeshift mixer. Your friends held mugs of alcohol, pretending to be above the culture of red solo cups.

You watched Amanda and Angela play a card game you didn’t know on the coffee table in front of you.

“Your pile is huge—your pile is huge, oh my god!” Amanda’s voice carried over the other noises around you. You leaned against Angela’s shoulder.

“Because you’re playing wrong! You’re cheating! You’re literally cheating and it’s so uncool.” Angela tried to grab Amanda’s cards, and you smiled at their back and forth. You were admittedly distracted, but trying to play it cool, pretending your mind wasn’t elsewhere as Angela jostled your head.

You watched Damien out of the corner of your eye. He stood across the room, toying with one of his rings, nodding along to something Alex was saying.

You tried not to stare, but there was something so attractive about the way he looked in a space all his own; he didn’t command attention—Damien hated being the center of attention, especially when it was easily avoidable—but he had a way about him tonight that just seemed so relaxed, and it was hard to ignore. Especially when he was already taking up most of your thoughts as it was.

For as long as you’d worked with Damien, he was someone you looked forward to seeing. He wasn’t the only reason you got out of bed, but he was certainly up there on the list. Thoughtful, considerate; he was a generally good-natured person. He made the days go faster, making jokes and ensuring you felt included as a newer member of the cast.

And you liked his laugh, and the way he listened, and the soft color of his hazel eyes that looked somewhere close to green in the light.

It was no secret that you found him alluring, but you felt that it was better to keep those thoughts out of his orbit. If not for your sake, for his. It just seemed unfair to come onto him after you’d spent so much time together as friends, especially when he had given you no reason to think that he felt anything for you beyond camraderie.

You sat up from your position on Angela's shoulder, moving your head to get a better look at Damien. He noticed, shooting you a smile. You reciprocated it, offering a small wave, keeping your elbow low and fingers folded near your palm. He waved back, and you both quickly returned to your respective conversations.

Amanda and Angela had gone back to playing their game, light-hearted fighting words replaced by laughs as they smacked cards down.

There was a tap on your shoulder, and Courtney pulled you up from the couch.

“Come to the bathroom with me.” She set a cup of something that smelled strong on the table.

The rules of the bar still applied to house parties, and you had no problem tagging along on trips to the bathroom, sitting pretty while your friends fixed whatever makeup was still left of that morning’s full beat. You followed Courtney down the hallway and into the bathroom.

“You’re bright red, you know,” They wasted no time in grilling you, running the water and dabbing it under their eyes to wipe away streaks of mascara that had rubbed off.

“I had a Tommy special.” You sat on the edge of the bathtub.

“That’s not—you can handle your liquor.” Courtney turned, combing through their hair with her fingers, “You’re not blushing just because Tommy gave you one vodka cran.”

“It wasn’t a vodka cran. It was a vodka soda.” You could tell where the conversation was headed, and you tried to veer it off track.

“You’re not as slick as you think you are.” Courtney raised a brow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He hasn’t even spoken to me tonight.” You contradicted yourself, markedly aware of what she was referring to and feeding into the topic, but disputing what you could.

“You’re oblivious.” Courtney laughed, fishing lip gloss from her pocket and turning back to the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You stood behind them, watching her reapply the color to their lips.

“Have you ever noticed,” Courtney popped her lips together, spreading the gloss, “That Damien only ever offers to host when he knows you’re going to come?” She turned to you again, leaning back, elbows on the sink. “Almost like he just wants an excuse to have you over.”

“He doesn’t do that. Damien is always offering to host. Doesn’t matter if I’m here or not.” You retorted.

“Not true,” they shook their head, “On days that you're not around and we don’t feel like going to the bar, Tommy always hosts. Or Amanda. Or Ian.”

“Tommy has more alcohol at his place.” You ignored the rest of the list, still trying to change the subject.

“Dude,” Courtney was laughing now, “It’s like you don’t want to see it.”

“See what?” Your ears began to feel hot.

“That he likes you as much as you like him.” The words had a tone of finality. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Bec—are you serious? Why wouldn’t I be nervous? Why would I run the risk of ruining a perfectly good friendship? Or, you know, whatever it is—however you might describe what it is!” You started to ramble, digging yourself into a hole, “What happens if something happens and then—it could ruin work, Court. It could ruin everything!” You suddenly became aware that you were whisper-yelling. You cleared your throat, returning to a normal tone of voice. “It could ruin everything. That’s why people don’t fuck their coworkers.”

Courtney said nothing, just held up their hand and made a point of showing you the wedding band around their ring finger. She cleared her throat.

“That’s different.” You tried to backpedal.

“How?” Courtney looked amused, eager to hear your half-baked reasoning.

“Cause of course that worked out. Look at how Shayne looks at you. Look at how obvious of a pairing you two are.”

“Same way Damien looks at you.” Courtney smirked.

“You’re reading into this more than I am.” You shook your head at them. “He would’ve made a point to do something by now.”

“Are we…talking about the same Damien?” Courtney laughed, and you responded with a tight-lipped scowl. “In what world would he ever make a first move?”

“The ideal one. Where everything goes my way.” You scoffed, folding your arms.

“Right,” Courtney put a hand on your waist, and you looked at each other. “Approach this with more confidence, is all I’m saying. Give yourself—give him—the opportunity to make something happen.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, unfolding your arms and rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, no, you’re right.” She gave you a cocky look, and you slapped their arm gently, “Don’t rub it in.”

“You’re hot,” Courtney rubbed her thumb over the exposed skin of your waist, “And sweet. You deserve the world. And I love the both of you more than words, but you act like you’ve never had a crush before.”

“Not like this.” You admitted, and they smiled.

“I know. But you have nothing to lose.” They looked around as if they were afraid someone might be listening from behind the shower curtain, “I have it on good authority that he feels just as strongly about this thing—” she gesticulated vaguely, “as you do.” She smiled, turning to open the door. You grabbed her by the arm.

“What did Shayne tell you—what did Damien tell Shayne?” You tried to pull them back as they turned the door handle, but she wiggled from your grasp.

“You didn’t hear it from me!” She called back to you, leaving you alone in the bathroom to ruminate on the conversation.

~~~

It was still early when people started to trickle out. You knew when Shayne and Courtney left that the party was over.

“Do you guys need a ride?” You sidled up to Courtney where she stood in the foyer with Shayne, “I don’t mind driving you home. I’m sober. Stone cold.”

“Oh my god—Steve Austin, I love your work!” Spencer called over to you while he herded a cheerfully inebriated Tommy through the door. Shayne let out a quick, barking laugh.

“No, don’t worry about it. We’re ubering.” Courtney moved hair from your face, and you saw something dubious hidden in her smile. She leaned further into your space, lowering their voice, “And you’re not going anywhere.”

“What?” You made a face.

“Give yourself,” they pressed a finger to your chest, “an opportunity.”

You grasped her hand, squeezing her fingers. Shayne looked on, and if he knew what you were talking about, he kept it to himself.

“I’m leaving. I’ll be gone—out the door right after you.” You argued, and Courtney raised her eyebrows, waving you off before exiting. Shayne followed close behind her.

You didn’t leave right after them. As it turned out, you didn’t really want to leave at all.

You liked Damien’s house. It was spooky year-round, warm in both temperature and color palette, and his couch was cozy.

It wasn’t just the furniture; Damien’s presence was equally as, if not more, comforting. He walked around picking up whatever had been misplaced during the night, trying to find the right spot for it all. He hummed quietly to himself, shooing the cats away with his feet.

“I’m sorry for not helping,” you shifted on the couch, lying on your side.

“Don’t be sorry,” he smiled, “It’s fun to organize.”

“That is such a you thing to say, you know that?”

“What is?”

“That organizing is fun.”

“It is. Especially when I have company while I do it.” He looked pointedly at you. You held eye contact.

“You can tell me to leave. If you’re done for the night.”

“Why would I want you to leave?” He looked genuinely curious as to why you would think he’d want you gone.

“If you’re tired, or something. I get it.”

“No,” he shook his head, grabbing a cup that had been left half-full on a bookshelf, “I like having you around.”

“Can I get that as a written statement? Signed, dated…” You sat up a bit, positioning your head on the armrest of the sofa.

“Absolutely not. Nobody can ever know.” He laughed, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Come sit with me.” You leaned over to pat a cushion before returning to your reclined position.

It could’ve just been the liquid courage you’d ingested, but you’d only had one drink. It was hardly enough to make you feel a buzz, let alone get you drunk. Maybe you were just thinking too much about what Courtney had said, about giving yourself a chance, finding an opening to let him in. Or maybe you were just really, really comfortable where you were spread out on the couch. For once, though, the confidence seemed to be your own doing.

Damien put down the cup in his hand and settled on the couch. You rested your feet on his thigh, and he placed a hand on your shin.

You’d always felt that any one-on-one time you got with him had a deadline, like you were on a time crunch based off of when the next video needed to be filmed or when your friends would join the conversation. It made the moments alone with him all the more enjoyable.

You liked being here, alone with him.

You liked it a lot.

“You wanna do something?” Damien leaned his head back on the couch, stretching his arms out beside him. You tried not to pay too much attention to the way the fabric of his t-shirt hugged his arms and the broad expanse of his chest.

“Like what?” You quirked a brow.

"Something low energy that makes us feel like we’re doing something…” He mulled over the possibilities, “Smash Bros?”

You nodded. “Wanna make it interesting?”

“I’m not putting money down.”

“Because you’re scared?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Scared you’ll lose. Wouldn’t wanna take a chunk out of your day rate.”

“You fucking wish,” you kicked at him gently. “I wasn’t thinking the gambling route.”

“So what were you thinking?”

“You ever played strip poker?”

Damien looked taken aback, and you regretted your proposal almost instantly. “Are you suggesting we play strip Smash?” He broke into a fit of laughter.

“We don’t—it was just a thought.” You tried to retract your suggestion.

“I didn’t say no.” He held your gaze, and you felt a tug in your stomach. “But if you get cold, tell me.”

“You say that like I’m going to lose.”

“Oh, is that what that sounded like?” He tossed you a controller, “Good. Cause that’s what I meant.”

You kicked at him again.

You lost your socks first. Then your shirt. You didn’t know whether or not to thank or chastise yourself for remembering to wear a bra. Your pants quickly followed, and though it was far from a matching set, you were relieved that your undergarments were at least presentable.

You were acutely aware of your own body now; the rise and fall of your chest and the way you moved your legs when you got caught up in the game. You didn’t notice Damien: how he bit the inside of his cheek so hard when you took off your shirt that he flinched; how he nearly lost his grip on the controller when your jeans came off; how he kept shifting in his seat.

You especially didn’t notice the way he looked at you. His eyes flicked over your face with a combination of pride and adoration, and they darkened significantly when his gaze dropped below your collar and took in your half-naked form.

“How far are you gonna take this?” Damien was grinning, his voice the only other sound against the backdrop of in-game blasts and the click of thumbs on controllers.

“Down to my skin.” You shot him a glance and he cleared his throat.

“Won’t be long, then.”

“Yeah?” You bumped your shoulder against his lightly.

“You’re oh-for-three.” He pointed out, and you pushed against him again, harder this time, in an attempt to throw him off his rhythm.

“Let me choose a different character.” You tried to reach for his hands to grab at the controller. He held it up and away from his body.

“I don’t think the character is the problem,” he laughed, face lighting up at the way you sneered in frustration. “I’m not pausing just so you can be Kirby.”

“Who said I wanted to be Kirby?” You chastised him.

“Did you want to be Kirby?” He looked smug when he turned to face you, his hands still out of reach. You realized how close you’d gotten to him over the course of your teasing exchange, and suddenly recognized that the opportunity Courtney had been alluding to was right in front of you.

You moved to straddle his waist, legs framing his body and tits inches from his face as you stretched out to grab his hands, removing the controller from his grasp. You tossed it to the side and Damien was frozen as you shifted to look behind you at the screen, your victory now swift thanks to the lack of any opponent.

You turned back to him with a smile. “Did you want to be Kirby,” you imitated him, echoing his taunt. “Lose the shirt, Dames.”

Damien looked up at you, frozen. The tension was almost visible, like fogged glass, and you had no idea how to clear the air. You were nearly certain that you had made a terrible mistake, that everything about tonight was about to go wrong.

You were unable to make eye contact with him—afraid that by looking at him you would completely fall apart and lose the edge you’d only just found. Throughout your mental battle with yourself, Damien still hadn't moved, his gaze fixed on your face.

You tried to make your fear dissipate by breaking the silence.

“What?” You laughed, a little awkwardly.

Damien swallowed. “I...sorry,” His eyes were wide as he spoke, “I just got…very nervous and—and really turned on.”

Oh.

He let out a small, huffed laugh, smiling up at you in a moment of awe. He blinked hard a few times before moving his arm to rest behind his head.

“That…that makes two of us, then,” you stayed where you were, placing your hands on your thighs. You licked your lips, exhaling, before finding the nerve to continue. “You still have to take your shirt off, though. You lost. Rules are rules.”

“Didn't you get to take your socks off first?” He narrowed his eyes playfully.

“You can take them off," your words were coy. "You want me to move?”

“I never said that.” He shook his head, leaning forward just enough to grant him the space to remove his t-shirt. He tossed it to the side, and you felt your whole body flood with nerves and anticipation when he leaned back against the couch on full display for you.

“Are you cold?” Damien brought his hand up to cup your elbow, and it was only then that you became aware of the goosebumps that had broken out over your flesh.

“No…No. Just…” You swallowed, moving slightly on his lap. “Just nervous.”

He let out a small laugh. “Do you—I mean…” He was entranced, unable to remove his eyes from your face for the fear that if he looked at any more of you, you’d be able to feel his reaction. You reached out to trace a hand over his chest, admiring him and letting the heat of his skin warm your palm. “Would you mind if…” He bit his lip, closing his eyes while your fingers grazed his flesh. He took a deep breath. “Can I kiss you?”

You stopped your hand, letting it linger on the center of his chest, just above his stomach. Damien gingerly placed a hand on your waist, and for just a moment you wondered if he could feel the desperation seeping through your skin.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can kiss me.” you nodded, maybe a little overzealous, “Please.”

You leaned forward into him. You could feel the weight of his hand on your body and the thrum of your own heartbeat in your chest as it threatened to break through your ribcage. You watched him suck in a sharp, deep breath before his other hand cupped your face. You closed your eyes, letting him guide you into the kiss.

It was tender. You moved slowly, in tandem with him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting yourself settle into him as you got lost in the way his mouth felt on yours. You let your lips part, making space for his tongue to dip between them and explore you further. You let out a quiet moan when he licked into you, and you let your own tongue delve beyond his lips to take a taste of what you’d been craving so urgently. His grip on your waist tightened in response to your sounds, and you took it upon yourself to test the waters, rolling your hips against him. You were rewarded with the feeling of his stiffening cock between your legs, and a gruff sound that caught in his throat. His hand moved from your face to the back of your head, applying light pressure to keep you steady as the kiss became hungrier, and he bit at your bottom lip.

When you parted, both of you pausing to catch your breath, he looked up at you, quietly chuckling to himself.

“What?” You let your hands wander over his shoulders, “Was it that bad?”

“What? No—god, no. No, I’ve just…I’ve always wanted to do that.” Damien smiled, moving his thumb in a soothing pattern over your hip, “I’ve always wanted to do that…” He trailed off, raking his eyes over you and letting both hands move up and down your sides.

“Really?” You posed the question with your eyes closed, lost in his touch. You let yourself fall forward on his chest.

“Really.” He sighed dreamily, “I can’t begin to explain to you how much space you take up in my head. The real thing is a lot better than the imaginary version.”

“But you can do whatever you want in your imagination.” You pointed out, pressed against him and tracing lines over his collar with one finger.

“Yeah. Sure. But nothing I think up could ever beat this.” His fingers grazed the clasp of your bra, “And, full transparency, I’ve thought up a lot.”

You laughed, pushing yourself up with both hands on his chest to really look at him; his hair was messy, and his cheeks were flushed pink.

He looked flawless. You felt flawless.

“Damien,” your tone was saccharine, still tinged with a shy edge but steadily coming into your own with help from Damien’s clear reciprocation of your feelings, “Do you wanna show me all the thoughts you’ve had?” You watched his face go stern at your words, still hinting his amusement with a small, nearly hidden smile. “Do you wanna act on them?”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him; somehow the feeling of your tits pressed against his bare chest was almost more intimate than the kiss you’d just shared. You squealed, tossing your head back, which he took as an opportunity to leave dainty kisses on your throat, muttering against your skin.

“I don’t think you’ve ever seen my room.” His voice was gravelly, parched from the kisses he left on your skin as he picked you up. You gasped, suddenly off the ground and in his arms as he carried you down the hall; one of his hands trailed down your body, and you felt his fingers dig into the flesh of your upper thigh to keep his hold on you. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, letting him overwhelm your senses.

You got lost momentarily, like time had paused or sped up or stopped completely, but then you were in his room. The lights were dim, just as they were in the rest of the house, and the shelves stacked with various tchotchkes and books that you were too distracted to care about in the moment.

You realized that a person could look like their home, in a way, and you recalled the moment earlier in the evening when you had found yourself so attracted to how Damien carried himself in his own space. It’s because the space was just as welcoming, just as comforting and soothing as he was.

He let his grip on you loosen, and you landed on his bed, hands still wrapped around him and tentative of letting go. But you didn’t have to; he lay next to you, rolling onto his side and pulling you against him in a swift maneuver that placed you comfortably on his chest.

He didn’t kiss you, maybe out of anxiety that he was moving too fast for your taste, or just because he felt the moment didn’t call for it, but he brushed his nose against yours and let his hands linger on your waist.

“Is this what you thought about?” You whispered, letting him continue his quiet ministrations, “Taking me to bed and touching me like this?”

“And so much more,” he breathed, hands moving up your back, trying to commit your entire body to memory. “I hope you—I didn’t mean for it to come off like I’ve only ever thought about fucking you.”

You moved to rub your thumb over his cheek. “What did you mean?”

“That I don’t want you to be my friend,” he smiled, and your heart dropped for a second before he continued, “That I think about you all the time in ways that friends don’t think about each other. And I…” He searched for the right words, “Even after a night like this, even after, you know, seeing everybody and having everybody over—even when a place is full of people, and noise…You’re still the only person I can pay attention to. Or think about.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, and he pulled away from you to meet your gaze.

“Does that sound really stupid?”

“No,” you reassured him, pulling him back towards you, “No, it’s…you put it into words, Damien.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I get it. I’ve been trying to figure out how to describe what you mean to me, and you just,” you laughed again, trying to collect yourself, “You did the work for me.” You smiled, tilting your head back with your chest still pressed against him, making sure he paid attention to what you were saying. “I love you.”

You watched his face change, something in his eyes and the curl of his lips looked different in a way you couldn’t pinpoint. You couldn’t look for long, because he was on you again in a flash, arms wrapping around you, engulfing you with his body and tugging you into him. His lips crashed against yours, and it was hungry, and messy, and passionate, so much so that you couldn’t be bothered to care about the clack of teeth or the small bead of spit that fell from the corner of your lip.

“I love you,” Damien’s voice sounded tight, higher than it had been all night, “I love you.” He freely explored your body now, big hands reaching over your ass and offering soft squeezes before grazing your sides and the swell of your breasts.

“You know how,” you managed to get a few words in between heated kisses, “you said you didn’t want it to come off as if you only wanted to fuck me?” You let out a small moan when he licked a stripe up your neck and to your earlobe, mumbling quiet curses to yourself at the feel of his tongue on your body.

“Mhm,” Damien acknowledged your words without breaking away from you, still nipping at your neck while you let your breathing mellow so that you could continue speaking.

“Want you to fuck me,” you put a hand in his hair, forming a fist in the silver strands and pulling him up to make eye contact. “Damien, I want you to fuck me.”

He looked almost surprised, like he had forgotten physical intimacy beyond kissing you was even an option. The look of mild shock was replaced with clear enthusiasm as he moved to get off of the bed. “I’d hate to make you ask twice.”

He shed his jeans, and you realized this was more of him than you had ever seen before; standing next to you was the man that took up all your thoughts, ready and willing to give you what you wanted, his eyes like pools of reverence as they trailed over your form.

You couldn’t help but feel excited, uncaring if you came off as desperate. You sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, situating yourself on your knees. Your hands found purchase on his chest and slowly moved down his stomach until you reached the waistband of his boxers.

“Eager,” he let your hands wander, watching on as you explored. You paused, looking up at him to wordlessly ask if you were allowed to go further. “Don’t be shy, baby,” something about his tone had changed, and the cheerful voice you’d come to know and love was replaced with a deeper, rasping sound that you thought you might like even more. “You can touch. Take what you need.”

The words reached your core before they fully hit your ears, and you shifted on your knees, pressing your thighs together to give yourself some relief. Sliding your hand under his waistband, you were met with the solid, smooth skin of his cock. He helped you pull his boxers down and over his length, letting it spring free, and you felt your mouth water.

He was big, thick, and while not surprising in the slightest, you couldn’t help but whine at the sight before you. You looked up at him, your hand wrapped around his cock, thumb brushing the reddened tip; you expected him to look smug, proud of himself, maybe, but he looked dumbstruck, in awe of the way your hand looked wrapped around him—in awe of the fact that it was you.

“Damien,” you prompted, and it broke him out of his haze. He nodded. “Can I…”

“Please,” he took a deep breath, “God, yes, please.”

You smiled. “Well, I’d hate to make you ask twice.” He laughed at your mimicry before quickly silencing himself with a shaky moan when you licked an experimental stripe up the bottom of his cock. He tilted his head to the side, unable to decide whether to get lost in the pleasure or to enjoy the view he had of you, bent over yourself on your knees and using your mouth in a way he’d only ever dreamed of.

You spit in your hand, gliding it over him and appreciating the way he felt in your hands; the warmth, the pliant weight. You made sure he was looking when you finally took his tip in your mouth, circling your tongue over him. You moved your hand in sync with the way you bobbed your head. He groaned, hand flying to rake his fingers through your hair, and the way he sighed out your name spurred you on more.

His other hand caressed your back, tugging cautiously at the straps of your bra.

“Take it off,” you pumped him in your hand, letting your tongue flick out to deliver barely-there licks to the tip of his cock. “Take it off for me.”

“Fuck.” He huffed, hypnotized by the way you used your mouth on him. He undid the clasp with one hand, and you let the straps hang off your body. You didn’t want to pause your movements, didn’t even want to slow down at the risk of having to go for even a second without hearing him moan your name; you shook the constricting material from yourself, taking him deeper in your mouth until tears pricked your eyes so that you could slip your bra off your arms. Damien let out a low groan, tightening the grip he still had on your hair.

You took him deeper still, hand working what you couldn’t fit down your throat. When you gagged on him, he let out an absolutely filthy sound.

“You like that?” He was smiling with his mouth open, chest heaving with every breath, “You like choking on me?” You answered with a garbled “yes,” his cock still pressed against the back of your throat, one hand on his hip to keep yourself stable as your other hand stroked the base of him. He moaned. “You look so pretty. Always knew you’d look so good with my cock down your throat, baby.”

You couldn’t help the noise that you let out, something between a gasp and a moan that sent vibrations up Damien’s spine. You continued to move up and down over his cock before removing your mouth from him, spit dripping down your chin and a dopey smile on your lips.

Damien grabbed your face in one hand, fingers pressing hard against your cheeks as he pulled you up to his level. “You really are just so fucking perfect.” He kissed you, letting the drool that coated your chin drip onto his face. “Can I taste you? Can I taste how sweet you are?”

You nodded, the hand he still had on your face moving with you.

“Yeah? Say it.” He demanded, and you whimpered, enjoying the look of dominance on him.

“Want you to taste me, Damien.” When you spoke, his fingers pressed the inside of your cheeks against your teeth. “Want you to taste how sweet I am.”

He growled, moving his jaw in a circle as if to stretch the muscles in preparation for what he planned on doing to you. “How do you ask nicely?”

You felt an adrenaline rush deep in your stomach. It was one thing to be here with your pleasure in his hands, but to hear Damien say the things you’d fantasized about for so long made your head swim.

“Please…” One of your hands grabbed impatiently at his arm, “Please, Damien…want…want you to fuck me with your tongue. Please.”

He kissed you again, smiling against your mouth and removing his hand from your face to push softly against your chest so that you fell back onto the bed. He knelt on the mattress, holding your calves and pulling your legs open. You sank into the pillows at the head of the bed, letting them cradle and support you at an angle that allowed you to look down at Damien, whose face hovered over your core. His fingers danced over the waistband of your panties, and you wondered if he had felt the same tingly sensation when you toyed with his boxers as you did right now with his hands running over your hips and stomach.

He pressed his face against your clothed cunt, impatient and greedy for you. You moaned, one hand fisting the sheets under you while the other came to rest on your thigh, holding your legs open for him when your muscles threatened to snap them closed following the sudden contact.

“Fuck, Damien, that feels—that’s so good.” You squirmed under him as he licked over your panties, tongue brushing your clit through the fabric. You tried to push the material down, wiggling your hips to ease your panties off your body, but Damien caught your hands in his.

“Let me play, baby.” His doe eyes stared up at you from between your legs with a devious glint. You didn't listen, and instead continued to move your hips in an attempt to wriggle out of the fabric that kept his mouth from making direct contact with you. He pressed down on your hips, forcing you to cease your fidgeting. “Be patient.”

He licked a stripe from where your panties threatened to reveal your hole and up to your clit, and you arched your back in an attempt to encourage him further.

“God, Damien, please!” You pleaded, begging for him to touch you without the obstacle of the fabric that remained on your body. “Want it—said you wanted to taste me, you can taste me—you can taste me, I need it. Please, let me feel your tongue, please—”

Damien snapped your waistband and you yelped, effectively ending your rambling.

“You’re pretty when you beg," he kissed your stomach, and you let out a whimper. "But if you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll fuck it.” Damien’s words weren’t harsh, you could hear the joviality buried under the severity in his voice, and somehow that made it even sexier.

Your arousal was heightened when, as you moaned at his words, you felt two thick fingers plunge into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, and you choked out his name.

“Oh my god!” You cried out, looking down to see that he had moved your panties to the side to give himself access to your entrance. His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling to hit your more delicate spots, and the sound was utterly indecent.

“You’re soaked,” Damien was smiling with his top teeth, watching his fingers as they disappeared inside of you. “What got you so wet, baby?”

“Because…s’cause…” You didn’t have the energy to talk, too focused on the way his fingers pushed against the walls of your cunt, forcing your body to make space for him.

“Because why?” He goaded, thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he pushed his fingers deeper, “Because you like the way I touch you? Hm? Because you’ve been thinking about this as much as I have? For as long as I have?”

You nodded, mouth agape and eyes threatening to roll back; maybe you looked pathetic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, completely content with his fingers thrusting into you.

“Aw, come on. If you still want my mouth, you’re gonna have to do better than that.” He removed his fingers from inside of you, using the slick that coated them as lubricant to massage your clit.

“Wanted this for so long—so fucking long, Damien.” Your words came out rushed and breathy, “Thought about you like this all the time. Thought about—about you when I came, every time I came.” You couldn’t stop yourself from telling him the truth, the words tumbled from your lips as easily as taking a breath.

Your admission made him pause his movements, and for a moment the dominance in his face faded into something more tender. But he gathered himself, finally pulling off your panties in one fell swoop, then taking one of your legs and hooking your knee over his shoulder while you continued to babble to him.

“Keep talking, princess,” the nickname made you dizzy with desire, and you whined out for him, your eyes wide and watery when his breath fanned over your now bare, slick coated center. “Keep talking. Tell me all about it while I taste you.”

The first swipe of his tongue against your clit sent shockwaves through you, and you whimpered before recollecting your train of thought.

“Th—oh!” You quickly lost your words again when Damien began to ease his tongue into your entrance, toying with your hole before plunging into you with a purpose. He squeezed your thigh, and you took it as encouragement to continue. “Thought about this all the time—about your mouth against me. Using your mouth on me until my legs got sore from the way you’d hold me open.” He groaned against your cunt, and you extended a hand to comb your fingers through his hair. “Thought about all the ways you could use me. All the ways I would let you use me—fuck, like that, please!”

He had his face buried in you, your slick dripping down his chin and his nose pressed against your clit. You could feel the movement of his tongue inside of you, and you tugged on his hair as the sensation spread over your body.

“Thought about getting on my knees for you. I would let you have me whenever you wanted—wherever you wanted.”

Damien growled. “Yeah?” His brow quirked and he looked up at you momentarily before diving back into your heat, “Have to take you up on that.”

You whimpered, the muscles in your thighs and abdomen tensing from the onslaught of pleasure, and the feeling let you know that you were approaching your peak.

“Knew you would make me feel so amazing, Damien, knew you’d make me cum like nobody else ever could.” You were stringing words together faster than your brain could think them up. But even if they came out jumbled, every last word was true.

“Want you to cum on my mouth,” Damien was grinding his hips against the mattress, the relief he got from the fabric of the sheets dulled his intense arousal only momentarily, but he chased the feeling. “Please, baby, give it to me.”

You pulled his hair, admittedly harder than you had intended, but with the moan he let out, it seemed he didn’t mind. His tongue worked wonders as he extended it over and into you. Right when you thought you were already done for, limbs going slack and the pleasant tingle in your core reaching a fever pitch, Damien wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, letting his tongue flick against the sensitive bud.

It felt good to scream out for him, to let his name fall repeatedly from your lips as you yanked on his hair, but it felt better to hear his voice and the words that rang out from between your legs.

“Beautiful,” he was mumbling, still licking into you, trying to savor the tangy flavor of your cum. “So fucking beautiful, baby. Look at the pretty fucking mess you made. Did such a good job.”

You tugged again on his hair and he let you guide him up to face level. When he leaned in to kiss you, you opened your mouth instantly, and he slid his tongue between your lips. You sucked on it happily, eager to taste yourself on him, eager to experience everything you'd always imagined being able to do with him.

In turn, he held you close, so you wouldn’t slip away like you did when he woke up from his dreams.

You let the kiss linger, leisurely grasping at each other and appreciating the newfound lack of constraint. You curled yourself into him, lying on your side and tangling your legs with his in an effort to get as close to him as you could.

“You look so pretty when you cum,” Damien mumbled, lips grazing your pulse point, dipping down and sucking faint bruises onto your collar. “I want to see it again.”

“You can see it whenever you want,” you closed your eyes, relishing the gentle pressure he was putting on your skin so that the marks would form in small spots across your chest. You cupped his cheek in your hand, and he reluctantly stopped licking the bruises that had begun to pop up. Your thumb stroked the skin under his eye. “I want you to see it again now.”

Damien leaned into you, trailing kisses over your jaw. “You want me to fuck you?” He licked a stripe up your neck and over your chin. When his tongue reached your mouth, you opened for him, letting him lick between your lips, kissing him fervidly and moaning softly. “Yeah? You want me to fuck you? Want me to fuck you even though I just made you cum?" He growled into your mouth. "You need more already?"

“Yeah,” you smiled shyly, rubbing your face against the stubble on his cheek.

“Needy thing.” He removed his hands from you, then snaked his arms through the gap in your bodies and put his hands on your shoulders, pushing you against the mattress and onto your back.

He straddled your legs, keeping you immobile on the bed and kissing down your chest. He nipped at the plush flesh of your breasts, unable to contain himself, unable to hide the obvious pleasure he took in seeing you this way.

“Damien—” You sighed when he circled his tongue around one of your nipples, your fingers wrapping around his bicep.

“I know. I know. Sorry, I just—God, you’re beautiful.” He smiled, more to himself than to you, but the joy on his face was palpable, and you were sure he could detect the pride you felt at being the one to make him feel this way.

He used his knee to spread your legs, opening you up for him, moving his own legs to situate himself between your thighs. One of his hands ran up and down your leg as he stroked himself, lining his cock up with your entrance. When the tip of him rubbed between your folds, you whimpered, moving your hands down his arm and squeezing his forearm.

“Is this what you want?” Damien was looking down, examining how perfectly his body meshed with yours. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yeah,” your words were barely above a whisper, “Want you to fuck me.”

He moved his hand further up your body and squeezed your hip. “Where are your manners, princess?” He smirked, “Say please.”

“Please, Damien,” you stared up at him wide-eyed, captivated. “Please.”

“There you go.” He squeezed your hip again in recognition of your obedience. Slowly, as if he was worried he’d break you, he pushed into you, watching your eager, waiting cunt swallow every inch he offered you. You moaned, squeezing his arm and leaving small, curved marks where your nails dug into his skin. You watched his eyelids flutter, head tilting back with his mouth ajar, letting out a deep groan as he squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again to meet your heavy-lidded gaze.

“Big.” It was all you said, stretched and full of him in a way nobody had ever filled you up before.

Damien swallowed a laugh, flashing a domineering smile. “Big?”

“Too big.” You clarified, not entirely meaning it; you were thrilled to be this packed with him, but it had been so long since you’d felt a satisfying sting like this that it would take you a moment to get accustomed to it.

“You can take it, baby. I know you can.” He pressed his palm over your stomach, brushing his thumb across your skin soothingly. “You tell me if it’s too much, ok? Use your words, say it’s too much, and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t want you to stop.” Your voice came out strong momentarily, so eager for him that the possibility of him leaving you empty made you tense. “Waited so long…” You said, mellowing slightly, “Want you. Want you to…to use me.”

Damien made a throaty noise, something between a laugh and a moan that both relaxed and lit a fire inside you. Unhurried, he pulled out of you, his hands on your hips to give himself proper leverage. You exhaled slowly, mind set adrift by the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls; his rounded tip, every vein that ran up his length—you were certain you could feel it all.

You whimpered when he had pulled out enough so that nothing but the head of his cock penetrated you. You swayed your hips, trying to spur him on, but even with just the tip you felt you had ample stimulation.

He didn’t stop you, just watched on as you tried to fuck yourself with the tip of his cock just barely inside of you.

“You need some help?” He raised an eyebrow at.

“Please—fuck me, please.” You nodded excitedly, aching for him.

He smiled, eyes fixed on your face as he rammed back into you, watching your mouth contort and your tits bounce as your body absorbed the force. You screamed out for him, arching your back, which gave him the ability to push the remainder of his cock as far into you as he could.

“Fuck Damien! So—feel…so full!” You felt a tear fall over your cheek, overwhelmed by the bliss of having his cock buried inside of you and the rough way in which he made it happen. He leaned over you, supporting himself on his forearms as he caged you between them, and met you at face level. He thrust in and out of you shallowly, bringing his lips to your cheek and kissing the path of the delighted tears you had shed.

“Yeah? Feel full?” He whispered, still moving his hips, his cheek pressed against yours so he could speak directly into your ear.

“Yes, Damien—God, yes!” You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to immerse yourself in all of him. You searched for any part of him that you could reach with your mouth, planting sloppy kisses on his collar, his shoulder, the crook of his neck.

“Good.” He kissed your cheek again, before licking the wet, salty trail that your tears had left behind. “Want you to feel me for days after this.” He found your lips and kissed you, the pace and intensity of his thrusts increasing. “And when you can finally walk straight, I’m gonna do it to you all over again.”

You scraped your nails up his back, moaning for him and desperate to have him follow through on his threat. He buried his face in your neck, and you could feel the tug of his stubble on your skin as he panted against you, fucking into you aggressively in a way you’d always dreamed he would.

Each thrust felt deeper, and there came a point where you felt a pleasant pain in your side as his cock brushed your cervix.

“Damien—Christ, you’re so fucking deep,” Your nails jabbed harder into the skin of his back and he let out a hiss. “Please, like that. Just like that, don’t stop. B-bruise me, please, please!”

“I won’t stop, princess,” Damien’s words were snarled, gruff in your ear as his lips grazed just below your earlobe. “I promise. Wanna leave this pretty pussy so nice and sore.” He sucked a mark under your jawline, "Wanna ruin you."

You moved one hand, fingers lacing through his silver hair and yanking at the brown roots to pull him from his spot in the crook of your neck. He took the hint, rising up to meet you, his mouth finding yours and biting at your bottom lip.

“I love you,” you couldn’t bite back the words, not even if you tried; not when his cock was hitting spots you didn’t even know were there, not when he was using all his upper body strength to stay above you just so he could gaze down upon your tear-streaked, fucked out face, not when it was something you’d been dying to tell him in this capacity for as long as you could remember. “I love you, Damien—I love you.”

“I love you,” he echoed your words, voice softening and face relaxing. “I love you so much. I do, I love you so much.”

You raised your hips to meet his thrusts, and Damien moaned out your name, muscle in his jaw tensing before he let his mouth fall slack. He paused momentarily, sitting up while still buried inside you, to take your legs in his hands and press your knees back to your chest. You were bent in half, completely at his mercy and loving it. You yelped, the new angle giving him the ability to drive harder and deeper into you; the control he had over your body made your head swim and your cunt squeeze around him. He leaned over you, smiling through the pleasure that clouded his mind to jeer at you affectionately as he continued to escalate the manner in which he fucked you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He watched you, your head lolling to the side and practically drooling as you looked back up at him, pitiful moans and gibberish the only way you could communicate. “Lose your voice?”

You swallowed hard, gasping for air and overcome with the feeling of him. You searched for the right words.

“Make me—oh!—feel so good,” you panted, “so fucking good.”

“Who makes you feel so good?” Damien pressed, plunging his cock as deep as he could, his hips firm against the back of your thighs.

“You do!” You felt all of him, and still, somehow, you craved more. “You do—you, you!”

“Yeah? Say it princess. Say Damien you make me feel so good.” He grabbed your chin, forcing you to stare up at him with your lust-blown eyes. “Say it.”

“Da—Damien,” you whimpered as he fucked you in quick bursts while waiting for you to speak. “Damien, you—you make m-me feel so good.”

He pressed his lips to yours, further enhancing the way your body was already contorted, and you moaned into his mouth at the feeling of being used like a toy by him.

“That’s right,” Damien licked into your mouth, “You make me feel so good, princess.”

He pulled back from your face, straightening once more; he grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders, gripping your thighs close to his body and using them to pull you onto his cock. The sounds you made were high pitched and pathetic, eyes rolling back while he placed kisses on your calves where they were slung over his shoulders; he nipped at you, teeth just barely grazing the flesh of your legs as his lips did a bulk of the work. The tickle of his five o’clock shadow was a welcome match to the gentle pressure you felt in your abdomen brought on by the way his cock stretched you.

He wrapped one arm around your legs, leaving you powerless to his movements as your head pushed back into the pillows from the sheer delight of feeling him inside of you, heightened by the depth and momentum with which he fucked you. He let his other hand drop to hold your hips, thumb caressing your skin with unidentifiable shapes.

You couldn’t remember getting fucked like this before—if you ever even had been fucked like this before. Somehow Damien knew you inside and out better than anybody else did, maybe even better than you knew yourself. This was proven by the way he drove his hips into you, hauling you over his cock and making you feel the delicious drag of his length in a way that made you feel full to the point of near discomfort. The electrified jolts of satisfaction when the tip of his cock pressed up against your more delicate, hidden spots, were eased by the soft way he touched you. The feeling wasn’t confined to your walls; his fingers brushed your clit, the ghost of a touch sending shockwaves through your system. You wriggled your body, unable to contain yourself and responding physically to the way his digits teased you while he ruined you with his cock.

He was rough, wild, and everything you needed. When you looked up at him, you could still see the kindness in his features, hear the compassion with which he moaned your name, feel the romantic way he squeezed at your body even while he was fucking you stupid. His groaned words of praise, of affirmation, when he managed to gasp your name between panting thrusts brought you to the edge just as much as his physical prowess did, and you let it be known how you were feeling.

“Damien—” You reached out, grasping at his arm where it wrapped around your legs, his other hand kneading your clit in slow circles. You felt your cunt tighten around him, walls fluttering in preparation for your oncoming orgasm, hips bucking on their own accord as you chased the ecstasy he brought you.

“Give me another, princess,” he grunted, pounding into you, his fingers deftly tracing over your clit. “Doing so good, give me one more.”

You turned your face to the side and buried it into the pillow under you, biting into the cloth to silence your increasingly loud screams. He reached down to grab your face, once again pushing your knees to your chest and earning a loud gasp of his name as you wiggled your hips against him, relishing the feel of his cock throbbing deep inside of you.

“Show me that pretty face,” he cooed, sweat lining his temples from exertion, “Let me hear those pretty sounds.” He pressed hard against your clit, and your body responded explosively; you screamed for him, reaching for his shoulders to pull him to your chest and kiss him as a warm feeling spread from your center and out to your limbs. You could feel it in your chest, the fulfillment traveling over every inch of your body, muscles responding in kind with small twitches as your cunt squeezed him tight.

Your legs squirmed free from underneath him, and you wrapped them around his waist, keeping him close to you while you rode out your high, circling your hips over his cock. He moaned into your mouth, the kiss devolving into a messy exchange of spit and sweat and teeth, lips chapped and swollen with passion. You bit his lip and he growled, leisurely swaying his hips and punctuating his thrusts with eager whines.

“Where,” he was breathing heavily, once again finding solace in the crook of your neck. “Where do you want it, baby. Tell me. Please.” He was practically whimpering, begging you for permission to finish by communicating where it was you wanted his cum.

“Inside,” you moaned, the aftershocks of your orgasm lulling you into a sleepy heap of oversensitivity and devotion.

Damien growled as he took in your request. “You’re—fucking christ, you’re sure?”

“Please,” it was all you could say, desperate to feel the culmination of his pleasure inside of you. “Pill. Need it, Damien. Cum inside me. Let me feel it, please.”

Damien groaned at your words, brow knit and mouth open. He sped up his pace, pushing himself up from you and supporting himself on his hands. You whined, content and aching for him.

“Fuck, I'm gonna fill this pussy up so deep.” Damien squeezed his eyes shut momentarily before opening them and looking down at you, “Fuck—gonna cum, baby, I'm—fuck!” His hips stuttered, and you wrapped your legs around him tighter, keeping him secure against you. He dropped down onto you, still providing shallow thrusts, though much gentler than before. “I love you,” he whispered, lips pressing against your neck as he engulfed you with his own body, cock spent and twitching inside of you, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeated quietly, and when he kissed you, you could feel that he meant it; the words echoed in your mind as he eased his lips against yours, taking time now to really savor the way you moved against him and enjoy how perfectly you fit together.

You focused on catching your breath, and he removed himself from atop you as he collected himself. When he slipped his cock from you, you whimpered at the new emptiness, and he kissed your temple.

You both stayed there, lying in bed together while you came down from the high-energy tryst. You still couldn't remove yourselves from each other completely, limbs tangling together and hands gliding over sweaty skin as you appreciated the tranquility together.

“Do you want water?” He asked, nose rubbing against your cheek.

“Yeah,” you gulped a breath, “Yeah. Thanks.”

He got up on shaky legs and found a pair of sweatpants, walking to the kitchen only to return seconds later with a glass of water. His face was radiant and his cheeks dusted pink as he beamed at you.

“Thank you, baby,” you guzzled the cool liquid, mouth dry from the way he'd made you scream.

“Say—” Damien looked down at you, giddy, “Will you say it again?”

You smiled, tired eyes taking in his form. “Thank you, baby.”

He sat down next to you. The mattress shifted with his weight, and you inched yourself towards him.

“I like hearing you say it.” He seemed timid, like after all that had happened, he was still worried you’d reject him.

“I like saying it,” you nuzzled your face into his stomach, resting on his thigh. His hand came down to pet your hair, thumb occasionally brushing over your temple.

“Will you stay here tonight?” He asked, “Only if you want to, I mean—but, I’d like it if you did.” He laughed to himself, “And then, you know…if you wanted to stay every night—I’d like that, too.”

“Well, good, cause the U-Haul is on its way over.” You turned your head to look up at him from your spot on his leg.

“Wow, those guys work fast,” he smirked down at you. “And then, when you, uh—when you finish moving in…could I take you out on a real date?” His face looked so gentle, “You know, away from everybody we know. Just…just us?”

“I would like that.” You smiled, turning to place a kiss on his stomach. He examined your face, still stroking your hair.

“I’m sorry if anything I said was…if you think I was moving too fast—or if I said something you want to pretend I didn’t say yet. Or at all.” He winced, nervous.

“Damien,” you sat up, shuffling to kneel in front of him and cupping his cheek, “I love you. I don’t want to pretend you never said it.” You placed a kiss on his nose, and he tackled you back onto the mattress, kissing your face.

“Thank god,” he breathed a sigh of relief, “Because I don’t think I could ever take it back.”

“You’ve said it before,” you laughed when his head dipped under your chin to suck new marks onto your neck to match the ones that he had made prior.

“I know,” he mumbled against your skin, “But it’s—this is different. I mean it…different…” He smiled, sharp teeth on display, and you laughed again, enamored.

“Good,” you played with the hair that curled against the back of his neck, “I mean it different, too.”

Damien pulled you against his chest and rolled over, leaving you to straddle his waist and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” he sighed happily.

“I love you, too.” You left kisses on his collar bone before pressing your face against his neck.

~~~

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but when you awoke the next morning you momentarily feared that it had all been a dream; that you were back in your own bed, alone, hungover and suffering from the memories of some distant fantasy.

But you were still with Damien. His arm draped over your waist and his face pressed between your shoulder blades as he snored quietly.

You could get used to this.

You leaned back against him, eager to tell him that you loved him when he woke up.

The sun was just barely up, and the minuscule amount of light that made its way through the window illuminated tiny bits of dust that passed through the rays. Zelda had made her way into the room at some point in the night, and her soft purring sent tiny vibrations over the blanket, her body nestled into the curve of Damien’s knee behind you.

You stretched, aimlessly reaching out and inevitably grabbing hold of your phone. You dimmed the brightness, scrolling through notifications you had missed the night before; tagged pictures, drunken Instagram stories, a few Venmo requests and a few more Venmo payments.

Courtney had texted you only about 20 minutes before you had woken up.

Court: How was the rest of your night 👀

Court: Does Shayne owe me $10

Court: Or did you end up going home

You let out a silent laugh, rolling your eyes a little at the betting pool that seemed to have erupted over your love life. You twisted in bed, opening your camera and zooming in on Zelda where she sat comfortably against Damien’s knee, the backdrop of his bedroom on full display. You took a picture and sent it to Courtney with no explanation, amused by your own vague confirmation that you had spent the night with Damien—and planned to do it again. Often.

You put your phone down and it started to buzz on the nightstand, lighting up with Courtney's contact picture. You considered picking it up, but then Damien’s arm tightened around you, pulling you to him while his hand spread out over your ribcage just under your breast. He kissed your back, still half-asleep, before he resumed snoring.

You decided that you would talk to Courtney later, turning over to bury your face in Damien’s chest, letting his breathing lull you back to sleep.

#damien haas #damien haas smut #damien haas fanfiction #damien haas fic #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you #smosh #smosh fanfiction #smosh fic #smosh smut #smosh games #smosh pit #smosh mouth #smosh squad #smoshblr

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slu7formen · 4 months

Note

Girl first of all I want to say that I'm OBSESSED with your writing I love it.

Second of all I would like to make a request about Luke so hear me out.

Luke and reader were in a relationship before he betrayed camp and they were head over heals for each other and then he stole the bolt and when Percy discovers he's the thief the reader is there feeling betrayed and specially heartbroken even though Luke ask her to go with him but she doesn't accept it because she's so loyal to camp and her friends.

Time passed and even if she wants to hate Luke she loves him more than anything. And Luke loves her too so instead of asking Annabeth to escape with him he asks reader and she accepts.

I want to see everything in here fluff, angst, everything you think about.

I hope you like this request and make it real for me because I've been having this idea for over a week.

Okay but I feel so bad ‘cause I totally forgot I had this story FULLY WRITTEN and READY to be published (‘cause I LOVED it), I’m so sorry angel, made you wait a lot more than just a week 🥺, but thanks for reading my stories <3

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: luke´s a traitor, betrayal, use of yn, swearing, kinda angst (?, KISSING, lil book spoiler

₊˚⊹♡

The crackle and pop of the bonfire filled the air, a comforting contrast to the vibrant bursts of color exploding overhead. The annual fireworks display was in full swing, casting shadows on the faces of your friends huddled around the warm flames. It was a picture of peace, a moment of respite amidst the constant threat of monsters demigod drama.

You stole a glance at the empty space beside you. Luke, your boyfriend, had told you he'd just be back in a minute. A few minutes had turned into an eternity, but you chalked it up to his usual impulsiveness. He'd be back any minute, with his signature smile and an arm wrapped around you.

You knew it.

From the moment you met, you and Luke had been inseparable. You were his confidante, his anchor in the chaos of being a demigod and his messy life. He was your rock, always there to make you laugh, to understand the weight of your heritage in a way no one else could.

The warmth of the fire danced on your skin, but a shiver snaked down your spine. Something felt off. The chatter of your friends seemed muted, replaced by a dull ache in your chest. You couldn’t deny the way you noticed how Luke has been acting lately. So weird and distant towards you the last couple days. You loved him, fiercely and unconditionally. You'd been there for him through thick and thin, especially after his quest left a jagged scar across his cheek and a hollowness in his eyes.

But then he suddenly just, snapped.

A memory surfaced in you , sharp and unwelcome. It had been months ago, a conversation in the darkness of his cabin in a particular cold night. Luke, his eyes filled with a desperate fervor, had confessed his anger towards the gods, his belief that they were cruel and neglectful parents. He'd spoken of tricking the Olympians, joining forces with the Titans to fight for a better life for all demigods.

The anger in his voice, the glint of rebellion in his eyes, had scared you. The scar on his face, a reminder of his failed quest, seemed to burn brighter that night.

You understood his anger. The gods were far from perfect, their neglect and cruelty evident in countless demigod lives. He'd begged you to join him, his voice filled with a desperate hope. But you'd refused, your loyalty to Camp Half-Blood and your friends unwavering. You had spent hours talking him through it as you held his hand, reminding him of all the good the gods had done, no matter how flawed they might be. He'd looked lost at the time, seeking comfort in your touch. You'd thought you'd reached him, extinguished that spark of rebellion.

You really believed that conversation was long forgotten. But there was a reason why you remembered it.

Some movement at the edge of the woods caught your eye. But it wasn't the boy you were expecting. Percy, his face pale and etched with worry, practically stumbled into the fireplace, his chest heaving and his grip tight on Riptide.

A pang of concern shot through you. "Percy?" you called out, concern lacing your voice. You pushed yourself off the ground, walking towards him. "What happened? Where's Luke?"

Percy hesitated, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. Shit, should he tell you? His silence was a hammer blow to your gut. You knew, with a chilling certainty, that something was terribly wrong.

"What?" you choked out, the question barely a whisper, expecting some kind of answer from the blonde boy, but nothing came from his trembling lips. The air felt dense, with a truth you desperately wanted to deny. You saw Luke getting into the woods with Percy, you saw it. And now, he was nowhere to be seen.

Then, it clicked. A cold, horrifying truth began to dawn on you.

He lied.

Without a word, you pushed Percy aside and started running, towards the woods. Your heart hammered against your ribs, like a trapped bird desperate to escape. You plunged into the darkness of the forest, the path you'd walked countless times with Luke now leading you into the unknown.

"Luke!" you screamed, your voice raw with anger and despair. You wove through the trees, the undergrowth tearing at your camp shirt, but you didn't care. You had to find him, to confront him, to understand why he'd chosen this path, if he chose it, why he'd lied to you.

But with each passing minute, hope crashed over you. The forest grew denser, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the frantic beat of your own heart. There was no sign of Luke, no echo of his footsteps, no smell, no sense of his presence, only the chilling truth hanging heavy in the air.

He was gone.

He had left.

You sank to your knees, the weight of betrayal crushing you as the first tears you ever cried for Luke Castellan, started to fall. The man you loved, the person you'd trusted with your life, had chosen darkness over everything you held dear. He had chosen Kronos over you.

Grief, a cold and relentless serpent, coiled around your heart. And that feeling never seemed to leave.

The year that followed was a blur of sadness and a desperate attempt at normalcy. The silence from Luke was deafening. Not a single Iris-message, not a single sign of the one who once, was your boyfriend.

You knew you wouldn´t be able to return to Camp, at least not for now. Every corner held a ghost of Luke's smile, every sword clang a reminder of his battles and his betrayal. Your friends, the true ones, bless their hearts, tried everything to cheer you up from a distance, but their efforts felt like trying to pick up the pieces of a broken glass in the sea.

You opted to stay home that summer. But even there, away from the prying eyes and hushed whispers, escape from Luke's betrayal seemed impossible. Messages and news found you no matter where you hid. News of Luke leading a rogue army aboard a stolen cruise ship, rumors of him serving as Kronos's right hand while the Titan slumbered – it all reached your ears.

The nights were the worst. The darkness mirrored the hollowness within you. Tears would stain your pillow as you relived the events leading up to his betrayal. You once seemed to dream about seeing him again, and now you only screamed when you saw his face in your nightmares.

The memory of his touch, the warmth of his smile, the nights you spent loving each other with the sheets tangling in your legs, all felt like cruel illusions now. Yet, a part of you, a stubborn, illogical part, still clung to the love you once shared.

And Gods, did you try to keep yourself as busy as possible. You threw yourself into your studies and little courses here and there, seeking solace in facts and logic. You even began working, a boring but well payed summer job. Yet, the pain lingered, a dull ache that refused to subside.

The more you tried to banish these visions, the more vivid they became. You missed him like a starving man craved a feast, a yearning that gnawed at your insides and threatened to consume you. Frustration gnawed at you. How could you still love someone who'd betrayed you so utterly? How could your heart still ache for a man who chose war over you? The questions echoed endlessly within you, a relentless chorus fueling your self-conscious.

How could you be so weak?

These consuming questions were your companions for a whole year. But as the second summer after Luke's betrayal rolled around, a shift occurred within you. The raw, agonizing pain began to dull, replaced by a quiet resolve.

Finally, you decided it was time to take back control again. Camp Half-Blood called, a familiar haven among the storm. You returned a changed person. The vibrant smile that once adorned your face was a ghost, replaced by a guarded expression that spoke about the pain you harbored in silence. The camp's familiar energy felt hollow, a constant reminder of the happiness you'd lost.

Training became your sole solace. You'd disappear into the arena for hours, your celestial bronze sword a blur as you cleaved through training dummies, each swing fueled by a potent cocktail of grief and anger.

Exhaustion became your closest companion too. You pushed yourself to the limits of your endurance, hoping to find oblivion at the bottom of an empty fuel tank. But sleep, when it finally came, offered no escape. You'd dream of him, leading his army of rogue demigods, his eyes filled with a fanatical zeal that chilled you to the bone. And in those dreams, you'd see yourself, standing beside him, not out of loyalty to his cause, but out of a desperate yearning for the boy you once loved, still love.

In the quiet moments, when your friends weren't around, the dam would break. You'd collapse onto your cool and empty bed, tears streaming down your face, a raw, primal sob escaping your lips. The memory of Luke was no joy anymore, it haunted you like a specter.

You hated yourself for the traitorous flicker in your heart, the desperate, illogical yearning for him. It wasn't the war that tempted you; it was him.

You hated how much you missed him.

The scent of rain clung to the humid night air and to you like a second skin as you zipped up your duffel bag. Another summer at Camp Half-Blood loomed, promising a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and pain, but more training. The worst was yet to come, so you needed to be ready.

New York City, with its cacophony of car horns and the anonymity of millions, had become your refuge these past few months. In Manhattan, the memories of Luke seemed to hold less power for some weird reason, their edges dulling with the passage of time. You'd spent the past months in this tiny apartment, the silence deafening compared to the constant hum of life at camp.

Just then, a sharp rap on the door shattered the silence of your apartment. It was past midnight, an unusual time for visitors.

Adrenaline surged through you. Months of living fully alone had honed your senses. You'd become acutely aware of the city's underbelly – the flickering shadows that could hide monsters thanks to the ever-present mist. You'd seen them stalking the streets, stalking you, their true forms hidden to them mortals, an unsettling feeling crawling up your spine whenever their paths crossed yours. They never attacked, but their chilling presence followed you like a phantom.

Grabbing your necklace, you asked, "Yes?"

Silence. You weren't taking any chances. Pulling down at the pendant once, the necklace morphed into your celestial bronze dagger.

You took a step, two. Could it really be a monster? Could it really be some creature trying to get to you, by knocking on the door? With a shaky breath, you cracked the door open just enough to peek through the gap, hiding the dagger behind your back.

The sight that greeted you stole the air from your lungs.

Standing on your doorstep, bathed in the harsh glow of the hallway light, was Luke. His dark hair was windswept, his face etched with a gauntness that hadn't been there before, but his eyes – those were the same eyes that had haunted your dreams for months. They held a desperate plea, a flicker of the boy you once loved struggling to break through the hardened shell of the man he'd become.

“Luke?”

The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words and a tangled web of emotions. Time seemed to warp in that hallway, a single moment stretched into an eternity. Luke looked different, yes. The carefree boy you knew had been replaced by a man hardened by experience, his features etched with lines that spoke of battles fought and burdens carried. But his eyes, those brown eyes that had once held a mischievous twinkle, now held a deeper sadness that mirrored your own.

"Hi" Luke finally said, his voice raspy.

You stood speechless, the dagger still clutched tightly in your hand. Years of longing warred with the fresh wounds of betrayal. You wanted to scream at him, to unleash the torrent of hurt and anger that suddenly washed over you. But something held you back, a flicker of curiosity, maybe.

"Um, can I come in?" he continued, his posture pleading despite his attempt at nonchalance.

Jesus. Was that all he had to say? After everything, after what he did, all he could muster was a request to enter your apartment? A tide of anger threatened to drown you. Did he not understand the gravity of what he'd done? Did he not realize the pain he'd caused? But you forced your thoughts down. You weren't a child anymore, throwing tantrums wouldn't solve anything.

"Are you armed?" you asked, your voice flat, devoid of any warmth.

Luke flinched at your question, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "You think I wanna hurt you?" he countered, his tone defensive.

"Last time I saw you," you spat back, your voice laced with bitterness, "was three years ago, and I know your little monsters are keeping an eye on me. The first thing I'm supposed to think about is whether you want to hurt me or not."

He sighed, a long, weary exhale. Unzipping his jacket, he turned slowly, patting down his pockets before turning back to you. His eyes, once alive with mischief and love, were now filled with a desperate sincerity. "See? No weapons. Just me."

You studied him, a battle raging within you. One part of you wanted to slam the door, to let him know that he wasn't welcome. Yet, another part, a smaller, more vulnerable part, couldn't help but cling to the flicker of hope that flickered amongst the ashes of your love.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you stepped aside, allowing a sliver of space for him to enter. "Fine" you said, your voice devoid of warmth. "But you better have a good reason to come here"

Luke hesitated for a beat before stepping inside. He closed the door softly behind him, the sound echoing through the tense silence. He stood there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the room, landing finally on the packed bags besides the tv.

"You're heading back to camp?" he asked.

You flipped the dagger in your hand, and the celestial bronze morphed back into the golden necklace. "What do you want?" you repeated, your voice still sharp, a shield against the emotions swirling within you.

Luke stood awkwardly in the doorway, the once carefree boy replaced by a man burdened by the weight of his choices. His leather jacket seemed to hang heavy on his broad shoulders.

"I…" he started, then stopped, seemingly unsure how to proceed. He cleared his throat, the sound scratchy and unfamiliar. "You look different" he finally managed, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

You scoffed, a humorless sound that surprised even you.

"Look, yn" he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper, "I wanna talk, okay? I know what I did was wrong. I know I hurt you."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "You could say that again."

His fingers twitched at your bitterness, but pressed on. "I came here because..." He hesitated again, seemingly wrestling with an inner turmoil. "Because I-"

Frustration bubbled up within you. This cryptic approach, this lack of honesty, it was infuriating. "Because you what, Luke?" you demanded, your voice laced with a sharp edge. "Because you decided to grace me with your presence after leading a rebellion against the gods? Or maybe because you just wanted to see if I'm still waiting for you?"

You watched his face harden, the vulnerability replaced by a familiar defiance.

"Don't twist this" he snapped, his voice firm. "I came here because..." He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "Because I miss you, yn. I miss us."

The air crackled with a tension so thick you could almost taste it.

You took a slow step towards him, then another. He took notes of yourself as you did. The way you had grown internally was so intense that he could sense it everywhere. He might have betrayed you, but that only helped you get on your feet stronger, grow stronger. Become the warrior he always knew you were.

Then, in a move as instinctive as it was fierce, your hand lashed out. The slap connected with a stinging crack, the sound echoing through the apartment like a thunderclap. Luke's head snapped to the side, a crimson handprint blooming on his cheek. Shame flickered in his eyes as he scoffed, quickly replaced by a dull acceptance.

He deserved it, that much was clear.

"How dare you?” you spat, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury, "How fucking dare you come back here after what you've done? After leading a rebellion against the gods, after putting everyone we care about at risk? After betraying me?"

Luke took a shaky breath, running a hand over the burning mark on his face. "I'm sorry” he said, his voice low and ragged. "I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you, and I know a simple apology won't erase the pain or fix things. But you have to believe me, I never meant for things to get this bad"

He stepped towards you, his hands outstretched in a placating gesture, but you flinched back, the space between you a tangible barrier. "Don't touch me" you warned, your voice laced with ice.

He lowered his hands, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I know you hate me for what I´ve done. For joining Kronos, I-“

"You think this is all about Kronos?" you cut him off, your voice shaking with barely contained fury. "You think the reason my heart has been broken these past years is because you joined a fucking Titan?"

Luke remained silent, the weight of your words pressing down on him like a collapsing mountain. He knew better.

"This is about what you did to me, Luke" you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. "I was with you, all the time. I was your girlfriend! And you betrayed me. You left me alone” your voice broke so hard that you had to take a second to swallow the big gulp that was forming in your throat. “Everyone at camp looked at me after what you did," you choked out. "They either felt sorry for me, or they insulted me, saying that I was still loyal to you, that I was a traitor."

You closed your eyes for a moment, the pain etched on your face a stark reminder of the devastation he'd wrought. "You were the most important person in my life" you cried, your voice raw and vulnerable. "But you? You let Kronos fill your head with empty promises, and just like that, you forgot about us."

The truth felt like a bitter pill to swallow. He opened his mouth to speak.

"I asked you to come with me" he finally whispered, his voice thick with regret. "I gave you the chance to leave with me."

"And even after I said no," you countered, your voice trembling like the finger that was now pointing at his chest, "you still left. You threw me away like shit. And do you know what the worst part is?" Tears streamed down your face, tracing a path through the dust of old heartache. "That as much as I try, I can't seem to hate you."

A sob escaped your lips, shattering the fragile dam you'd built around your emotions. "I still love you, Luke" you confessed. "Even though it's a love that fills me with pain, it's still there. I hate myself because I dream about you, about the way things used to be. But when I don't, I feel like a piece of me is missing."

You looked up at him, your eyes brimming with tears and a raw vulnerability that left Luke speechless.

What had he done?

"I hate myself because I can't help but pray for your safety, even though you never seemed to care about mine. I hate myself because even after everything, I still love you, Luke."

Your heart felt like a shattered kaleidoscope, a million shards of love, anger, and pain reflecting back at you in a distorted reality. You walked and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs racked your body.

Luke, his heart heavy with a remorse sharper than any weapon, watched you crumble. The carefree girl he fell in love with was gone, replaced by a woman etched with the scars of his own actions. Hesitantly, he reached out, placing a hand on your back as he sat down next to you, a gesture of comfort that felt more like a branding iron on his guilt.

"yn” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I still love you too."

You didn't respond, the sobs coming in ragged gasps as your body struggled to contain the storm within.

"I know I left you" he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "And you didn't deserve it. But… I was so lost, so angry. Kronos promised me power, a solution to all the problems I saw. He convinced me that Olympus was corrupt, that the gods didn't care about half-bloods like us. And when you said no, he-, he told me to leave you behind, said that it would be easier for everyone…"

His voice trailed off. Easier for who? Easier for him, perhaps, to sever the ties that bound him, to plunge headfirst into a rebellion fueled by manipulated ideals.

"But it wasn't" he choked out, a tear escaping his eye, carving a glistening path down his cheek. "Every day, every step I took… it was a constant reminder of what I'd lost. The guilt was eating me alive, yn, you have to believe me”. His hands desperately reached for yours, trying to get your fingers to intertwine by placing his over yours.

Tears welled up in his own eyes. "I regret everything. I mean it. I don't want to do this anymore."

You finally lifted your head, your eyes red-rimmed and brimming with unshed tears. Luke looked different to you now, the bravado and arrogance gone, replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

"Don't want to do what?" you asked, your voice hoarse.

"This” he gestured vaguely to himself, but you didn’t quite catch it. "Following Kronos. Helping him rise to power. It's wrong. I can see that now."

“Little late to that, isn’t it?” you blurted out.

He took a deep breath, his expression resolute. "yn, there's a reason I came to you. A reason I risked Kronos' trust in me." He paused, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Kronos wants me to become his host."

And the world seemed to suddenly stop. You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. Your mind raced, trying to process what he had just said. Luke, your Luke, becoming a vessel for the monstrous Titan?

"What?" you croaked, fear coating your voice like frost. Your eyes darted around, searching for a way out, a solution, anything. But Luke wouldn't meet your gaze, his jaw clenched tight, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. "No. No, he can't. It's not possible."

The thought of him, Luke, being consumed by Kronos, twisted your insides into knots.

Luke, however, seemed to gather his resolve. "Yes, it is" he said, his voice low and strained. "There are things you don't know, yn. Things I've done."

A cold dread gripped your stomach, a physical manifestation of the terror that clawed at your insides. Your mind raced, desperate for answers. "Then tell me" you only managed to say. "Luke, what have you done?"

He hesitated, looking around as if afraid someone might be listening. "There's no time now" he finally said, his voice tight with urgency. "But I promise I will explain everything. That's not why I'm here."

Taking a deep breath, he dared to reach out, his hand gently grasping yours, finally. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, a stark contrast to the chilling fear that gripped you.

He called your name, his voice softening. "Come with me" he said.

You only feel capable of frowning your brows in confusion. "Go where?" you asked, your voice wary.

"Anywhere" he said, like a plea. "Let's run away, together. It can be just you and me again"

He leaned closer, the air around him crackling with a tension that mirrored the storm within you. As his forehead rested against yours, a jolt of electricity shot through you. It was a familiar warmth, a spark that had ignited countless stolen kisses and whispered secrets back when your world wasn't teetering on the brink of war. His other hand cupped your cheek, the touch a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you. His hand, usually warm and comforting, felt cool against your burning skin, a physical reminder of the distance that had grown between you. Yet, despite the chill, a wave of longing washed over you, a yearning for the simple comfort of his touch.

But reason tugged at you, a voice of caution in the midst of the storm. "But Luke," you stammered, pulling away slightly, "If you escape, Kronos will come for you. He'll come for us, and-,"

"I don't care" he interrupted, his voice resolute, yet laced with a tremor that betrayed his bravado. It was as if he was on the precipice, teetering between defiance and the vulnerability of a man on the verge of breaking. "I'll fight everything that comes for us. And if the war happens... I'll fight. I'll fight for everyone, I’ll fight for you. I'm not losing you again, yn."

His words resonated deep within you, a desperate echo of the love you still harbored for him, a love you thought you'd buried beneath layers of anger and sadness. You saw the fear in his eyes, a fear that you sadly shared, but beneath it, a flicker of something else – a raw, desperate hope. And as you looked at him, a wave of relief washed over you.

The relief of knowing he wasn't entirely lost, that a part of the Luke you loved still existed.

"I love you" he confessed again, his voice trembling.

Looking into his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling within them, the truth resonated with you. "I love you too" you whispered, the words tumbling from your lips like a long-awaited confession.

The world did indeed, stop. The rain, a relentless symphony against the window pane, faded into a distant murmur. The thunders became a muffled echo. In that moment, the only reality was the space between you and Luke, charged with the unspoken electricity of your confessions.

He leaned in further, a hesitant question in his eyes. A flicker of fear danced in their depths, a scared boy seeking forgiveness beneath the warrior's facade. You watched him, a bittersweet ache blooming in your chest.

With a sigh that trembled on your lips, you closed the distance. Your lips met in a hesitant touch, a tentative exploration of a forgotten familiarity. Three years of longing, of unspoken words and simmering emotions, poured into that kiss. It was sweeter than you'd dared to imagine, a warmth that spread from your lips and drizzled down your chest.

Unlike the passionate encounters of your past, this felt different; like kissing him for the first time. Luke's lips moved against yours with a reverence that sent shivers down your spine. He held back, his desperate desire tempered with a respect that surprised you. You knew him.

But then, you yielded. Your lips parted, a silent invitation, and his tongue met yours in a dance as old as time. A full, heavy and angry thunderclap erupted outside, a jarring contrast to the intimacy unfolding on the couch. But you paid it no mind, lost in the whirlpool of rediscovered affection.

Your arms encircled his neck, a desperate hold. He, in turn, cupped your waist, his touch lingering on the curve of your hip as he gently lowered you onto the soft cushion. His body hovered above yours. His lips, however, remained glued to yours, a relentless exploration that spoke of a love both fierce and fragile.

The kiss deepened, a slow burn that threatened to consume you both. You felt the familiar rhythm of his heart against yours, a counterpoint to the frantic beat of your own. It was a melody of second chances, of unspoken apologies and nascent hope.

His hand trailed down your back, teasingly brushing under your shirt, sending shivers dancing across your skin. You arched into his touch, a wordless plea for more. But just then, he pulled away, his breath ragged, his eyes a storm of conflicting emotions.

His voice, a husky murmur against your skin, sent shivers down your spine. "I missed this so much," he whispered, his lips trailing down the delicate column of your neck and the dip of your collarbone. His warm breath mingled with your own, a heady mix of emotions swirling around you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, the familiar texture a stark reminder of the past you both desperately clung to. He reached for your pulse, slowly sucking in before letting it pop.

"I wanted to feel you every night" he confessed. "Every night, I dreamt of you." His words were a stark contrast to the cold, distant Luke you saw in your dreams, the only vivid memory you’ve had of him the past years.

"Luke" you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to speak.

He didn't stop. His hand drifted down your torso, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your lower tummy. Every touch felt like a brand, a searing reminder of what you had lost and the uncertainty that lay ahead.

"It was a mistake" he said, his voice thick with regret. "A big, fucking mistake. Leaving you, betraying you-, it was the biggest mistake of my life. My life doesn't make any sense without you."

With a strangled sound, Luke deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own. You clung to him, a drowning sailor grasping at a lifeline. The scent of leather that clung to him was intoxicating, a familiar anchor in this storm of emotions.

"Luke" you managed to gasp between kisses, a flicker of reason breaking through the haze of desire. You needed more than just words, needed a binding promise, something concrete to hold onto if you were to take this leap of faith.

He stared at you, his eyes a storm of emotions – desire, confusion, and a flicker of something that might have been annoyance. But before he could respond, you pressed on.

"Swear on it, Luke" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "Swear on the River Styx” you repeat. Luke’s eyes dart back and forth, from your lips, to your eyes, to filling up with confusion. “I’m not-,” you cut yourself off as you feel your eyes filling with tears again. You bit your tongue before speaking, “I’m not letting you hurt me like this again"

You knew it was selfish, a desperate attempt to safeguard your heart. But Luke was here, finally, after all this time. You craved the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence. The thought of letting him go again, of enduring another betrayal, was unbearable. Yet, a part of you, still scarred from the past, craved a guarantee, an oath sworn on the most powerful river in the Underworld. It was dangerous, yes, but did you care?

Did he care?

Luke's expression hardened. The River Styx, held a weight that couldn't be ignored. The river he already bathed himself in. It was a binding vow, a promise etched in the very fabric of existence.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a flicker of doubt, a hint of manipulation. But all he saw was the vulnerability, the fear – a vulnerability born from the scars he himself had inflicted.

"I swear on the River Styx" he said, his voice low and solemn, each word heavy with the weight of the oath. "I swear I won’t ever leave you. I swear I love you. I swear I'll fight for you, for us, with every breath in my lungs."

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firehose118 · 7 days

Text

in sickness

for @bucktommypositivityweek - predict the future

Buck is rooting through their sock drawer when he finds it.

He’s looking for a particular pair of socks: wool, blue and grey striped, soft and warm. They’re the ones that Tommy likes to wear when he’s sick, and right now he is sick. It’s nothing life-threatening, but Tommy is miserable. He hasn’t been able to breathe out of his nose for two days now, his nostrils have been rubbed raw by tissue after tissue, and he’s still shivering under three blankets.

When Buck shoves aside several identical pairs of white socks and sees the little box, he’s confused; almost a little panicked. This isn’t where he hid it. He could have sworn it was still in his locker at work. How did it get here? How did it get to the house, first of all, and how did it end up on Tommy’s side of their sock drawer? Oh god, did Tommy already see it? There goes the surprise.

And then Buck realizes that this is a different box than the one that houses the ring he bought for Tommy. It’s a different color, texture, and it’s from a different store. That means Tommy bought this. Tommy bought a ring. Tommy bought a ring.

Tommy wants to get married. Tommy wants to keep Buck forever. It’s not a surprise—they’ve talked about it, and Tommy has been more than clear that he’s in this relationship for the longhaul; more than clear that he’s deeply in love with Buck and their life together—but it makes Buck’s heart flutter just the same. Tommy is ready to make the commitment.

Buck must have been still and silent for too long, because Tommy raises his head from where he’d been buried under the covers and looks in Buck’s direction.

“Did you find them?” Tommy asks, his voice scratchy and stuffy.

There’s no point in pretending like he didn’t find the ring. This is all he’s going to be able to think about now, and he’s terrible at hiding his thoughts. Tommy would sniff it out in a moment, even this sick.

“Uh,” Buck says, a massive smile taking over his face. “I- I found something.” He holds up the little box.

Tommy looks confused for a moment and then his eyes go wide. “Oh. You weren’t supposed to- I had a plan.” His head hits the pillow with a groan.

Buck walks over to the bed, still smiling, and kneels on the floor by Tommy. “Oh, you had a plan, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tommy sighs. His frown is earnest and adorable. “Big romantic thing. Helicopter and a picnic at sunset. You were gonna love it.”

That does sound like something Buck would love. It’s thoughtful, sweet, intimate—fun. It’s so much better than anything Buck has been able to come up with. Buck has been making and scrapping plans for two months now because they weren’t perfect. Tommy’s plan was perfect.

Still, Buck can’t let Tommy think he was the only one ready for the next step. Who knows how long Tommy has had that ring. Has he been waiting for a sign that Buck was ready? He’s been so good about letting Buck set the pace of this relationship. This would have been the first step that Tommy asked Buck to take since their first kiss, first date. Buck wants Tommy to know he’s ready. They’re moving at the same pace, and Buck thinks that’s a beautiful thing. Well worth ruining the surprise over.

“And what if I told you I bought a ring too?” Buck bites his lip.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, his face lighting up. He tries to sit up but Buck stops him with a hand on his chest, rubbing it back and forth soothingly.

“Yeah. But I hid it somewhere you wouldn’t find it. Not in one of our shared spaces,” Buck teases. “Babe, I wear your clothes all the time.”

Tommy’s eyebrows pull together stubbornly. “Never my socks, though. You hate my socks.”

Buck has never said that out loud but it’s true. He’s a little overwhelmed by the casual intimacy that knowledge betrays. Tommy knows him so well. Tommy pays attention to him so well, and he seems happy to. It’s all Buck has ever wanted. Finally, Buck has the kind of love he’s spent his entire life searching for. He’s never been more sure that Tommy is it for him.

“I do,” Buck says. He sounds utterly besotted even to his own ears. “Your socks are terrible. The toe seams are too thick.”

“I’ve never once noticed the toe seam,” Tommy laughs, equally as besotted. Like the way Buck sees the world is charming and beautiful to him instead of frustrating and in need of correction.

“I have a hard time believing that.” Buck hands Tommy the ring box. “I’ll put this back and wait for your big romantic proposal if you want. The answer will be the same.”

Before he can respond, Tommy sneezes. Buck hands him a fresh tissue from the box on the nightstand. Tommy takes it and looks at Buck consideringly. He smiles fondly and shakes his head.

“No need to wait. Honestly, I think this might be more romantic.” Tommy gestures with the tissue. “In sickness and in health, right?”

The wet sound of him blowing his nose makes it very clear which side of that dichotomy he’s on at the moment.

“That’s right,” Buck smiles.

Tommy smiles back. He’s glassy-eyed and red-nosed, his hair is wild, and his stubble is scruffier than he usually lets it get. Still, in this moment, he’s the most handsome man Buck has ever seen.

Tommy’s hands shake a little as he opens the box. The ring is beautiful: simple gold, wide and rounded, understated and elegant. Timeless. It’s perfect.

“Evan Buckley,” Tommy starts, voice scratchy and congested. He gives Buck a pained look and sighs. “I had a whole speech planned for this, but my brain is so fucking foggy right now I can’t remember it all.” They both laugh. “But I know why I love you, so I’ll start there. You’re kind, and brave, and smart. You keep me on my toes and you make me laugh. You make me feel safe. I don’t think I’ve ever felt held the way I do with your arms around me. You love with your whole heart, and I feel so lucky that someone as incredible as you chose me. You’re the best partner anyone could ask for. Every day with you is better than the last. There were so many times over the years when we almost met that it’s kind of insane we didn’t, but I’m glad it took us so long. You know I don’t really believe in this stuff most of the time, but I think we met when we did for a reason. We weren’t ready for each other before that hurricane. But I’m ready for you now, and I hope you’re ready for me, too. I love you more than I could ever hope to put into words. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Please,” Buck says breathlessly. Tommy’s laugh is filled with affection as Buck hurries to correct himself. “I- I mean of course, yes. Yes, I- I will marry you.”

The tears are coming now. Even through the brainfog that comes with a cold like this, Tommy was able to pull that off. If that wasn’t the rehearsed speech, Buck doesn’t think he would have survived the real one. It makes Buck’s general you flipped my life rightside-up and now I see the world in color and I’ll love you forever feel a little inadequate. He needs to organize his thoughts a little better before he can present them to Tommy.

“I- I have a speech too,” Buck assures him, “but it’s not ready yet.”

“That’s okay,” Tommy says easily. He’s looking at Buck with such naked adoration that it makes Buck’s heart soar. “Neither of us were expecting this today. Give it to me when you give me my ring.”

Buck nods and sniffles. “I will.”

Tommy reaches for him. “Can I have your hand, sweetheart?”

Buck gives Tommy his hand and Tommy slides the ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly. It looks like it’s always been there.

Illness be damned, Buck has to kiss him. They’re long past the point of caring about getting each other’s germs. Tommy’s lips are chapped from days of breathing through his mouth, he tastes stale, and his skin is hot and clammy. It’s one of the best kisses Buck has ever had.

They pull back when Tommy needs to breathe. Buck doesn’t go far. He runs a hand through Tommy’s hair and just admires him. Even like this, he’s gorgeous. Buck is so lucky. This is the person who looked at Buck and saw him for who he is—who looked at Buck and saw Evan. This is the person who has had a front-row seat to all of his flaws and insecurities and bad habits and found something to love about all of them. This is the person who doesn’t love him anyway but loves him because—who loves his jealousy because it makes him feel wanted, loves his clinginess because it makes him feel held, loves his tendency to speak without thinking because it’s honest. This is the person who never makes him feel insecure about wanting or needing anything; about who he is. This is the person he’s going to spend the rest of his life with. His fiancé. His soon-to-be husband. His-

“Baby, can I please have my socks?” Tommy asks in a small voice.

“Oh!” Buck had gotten so sidetracked by the whole proposal thing that he forgot why he was looking through Tommy’s side of the sock drawer in the first place. Buck presses a quick kiss to Tommy’s forehead and jumps up. “Of course, I’m sorry.”

Buck goes back to their dresser. The wool socks are right on top. He doesn’t know how he missed them before. It feels like a sign, like he was supposed to find the ring first.

It feels like the universe saw how stressed he’s been about getting the proposal exactly perfect and decided this was the right way for them to get engaged. No big plans, no rehearsed speeches, no theatrics. Just love and care and the simple intimacy of this life they’ve made together: messy and raw and gross. It’s so imperfect that it’s kind of perfect. It’s them.

This is why none of Buck’s plans had felt right. He’d been so focused on making things perfect and exciting for Tommy that he’d lost sight of what really mattered. The strength of their relationship isn’t in the big, dramatic moments. Sure, they met during a hurricane, but they built their relationship in the quiet, imperfect, domestic moments as they learned how to take care of each other. Their relationship isn’t a fantasy: it’s reality. It works precisely because it’s imperfect and they both want it anyway—because they are imperfect and they both still want each other.

Buck puts the socks on Tommy’s feet for him, then he lays under the covers next to him. He pulls Tommy to snuggle into his chest. Tommy is still sniffly and clammy and, objectively, pretty disgusting. Buck pulls him closer.

Soon, Tommy drifts off. He snores in the loud, startling way he only does when he’s congested. Buck feels lucky to hear it. He runs his hand through Tommy’s hair and feels his ring catch on the strands. Happy, content, at ease; Buck settles in.

{give me kudos!}

#i had fun with this one!#bucktommy #911 abc #mine #bucktommypositivityweek

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ohcorny · 6 months

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so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

#corndraws #hunger's bite #never satisfied

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marzipanandminutiae · 24 days

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so I saw someone characterizing the (bullshit, unnecessary, oh my god you didn't even stick to the visual change in the epilogue section) makeover in the movie Enchanted as "Giselle looking like a grown woman instead of a little girl playing dress-up"

and like. I don't know. I'm having Feelings about that

for reference, here's what she spent most of the movie wearing:

and this:

and here's the "made-over" look:

(god it doesn't even FIT THE ACTRESS FLATTERINGLY I hate this look so incredibly much she looks like a grape Flintstones ice cream pop)

now, I see why this commenter said the first looks were childish. one has a long flowy skirt for everyday attire, her hair has flowers and ribbons in it for both, the fabrics are pastel with a floral print- all things that are a far cry from the sleek, muted or neutral vision we have of adulthood nowadays

and I HATE that those things read as "childish" to me. I hate that I can see it. because they didn't always come across that way, and they shouldn't. there's nothing inherently juvenile about decorated, pretty clothing

This is a dress for an adult woman c. 1863

this is a (formal) suit for an adult man c. 1770

This is a fashion plate from 1886

and that's just western fashion from relatively recent history- cultures all over the world have loved decorating clothing, accessories, furniture, and spaces intended for mixed-age or entirely adult use

there's nothing innately childish about bright or pastel colors (or even jewel tones- Adult Clothing seems to comprise nothing but neutrals, these days). or flowers. or ribbons. or just...decorated clothing, at all. why do we see it that way? how much joy are we robbing ourselves of in a quest to be Perfectly Mature by an incredibly exacting standard that didn't even exist for most of human history?

#enchanted #fashion #adulthood #design #maybe that's why landlords remove decorative molding from old houses (a sin a mortal sin WHY)#they're trying to make something from a time when adults were allowed beauty #fit a time when we're supposed to be Above That

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olsenmyolsen · 4 months

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imgonnagetyouback

master list . dark master list

If I said best song on TTPD, then what???

MCU (Female Reader X Wanda Maximoff)

Summary: You and Wanda Maximoff used to be something, but now that you're with Natasha Romanoff, Wanda can't stand by and let it happen.

Word Count: 1.4K

Content: Pissed Off Wanda, Manipulation, Cheating(?)

Wanda hated seeing you with Natasha.

She hated how the redhead whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you cooked dinner. She hated seeing how Natasha's arms held you tight after a mission. Wanda mostly hated how she looked at you. When Wanda truly looked at you. Wanda could see the pain hidden behind the glare.

Wanda hates how you treated her and how she treated you in return.

On top of that, she regrets calling it off too early. But now she hates the idea of you with someone else.

The images of you and Natasha are driving her crazy.

So, as she stands in front of her mirror in a white shirt and a lilac short skirt that fits her like skin, she smiles.

She's gonna get you back.

You're no better than a man when you see the way Wanda glides into the kitchen for breakfast. The body-hugging skirt leaves little to the imagination while making your mouth dry.

Wanda feels your gaze on her as she keeps her back to you. Using her magic to grab a bowl and spoon for cereal, keeping a laugh inside as she hears your thoughts.

You look away when she turns around but look right back up with a spoon clatters against the hardwood. You go red when you see Wanda bent over, picking up the spoon.

The color of her panties matches the skirt.

"Hey!" Natasha's voice makes you jump as she enters the kitchen with a smile. Wanda finishes gathering her cereal in the meantime. She knows this part of her plan worked just by how hard you're trying to keep your focus on Natasha and not Wanda and her body. "You woke up before me. That never happens!" Natasha makes a casual joke that you give a half-hearted chuckle at. "Yeah, just wanted an early start today, I guess."

Wanda takes one last look at you before she leaves the room. Your eyes catch her green ones, and you just about stop breathing when she winks at you.

"You're mine."

The following week, Stark is throwing a party for god knows what the occasion was, but it doesn't matter. You need something like this for one reason or another.

(Wanda and Wanda.)

So, as you walk with your arms linked with Natasha's, you find all eyes on the two of you. Natasha is dressed in a strapless thigh-high slit silver dress. You opted for an all-black tux that Natasha couldn't wait to tear off you later.

And you with her dress.

You smiled and kissed her cheek while she made small talk with colleagues, and you felt the burn of green eyes on you.

Wanda was stewing across the party, in a tight black dress that complimented your tux better than Natasha did. You and Natasha looked stunning.

She hated it.

So, with her mind on autopilot, Wanda downed the remainder of her glass and kept her burning desire trained on you.

After days of teasing, Wanda didn't feel close to accomplishing her goal. So, with misguided judgment, she rolled her tongue over her lips and found herself standing in the garage.

A golf club in her hand.

Luxury cars that Tony spent too much money on never to drive were the first pieces of machinery Wanda saw before she walked further and further down that aisle.

A loud click bounced off the walls with every step of her heels. Until. Wanda finally stopped in front of your bike.

Wanda remembers times when you'd spend all day with this stupid junk—fixing it up and taking it for a spin, being too loud and careless. God, Wanda hated it. But she also loved it because it made you happy.

But Wanda did at some point, too.

A memory of her arms wrapped around you while you sped around the compound plays out.

Wanda unconsciously screams and takes a swing, hitting the headlight right in the middle of the bike. Glass spraying around her. With a gasp, Wanda takes a step back, surprised by her actions, before she grips the club harder and swings for the fences.

39 times.

Wanda had a date a few weeks after Starks party. Your bike was totaled, and Wanda had another date.

You couldn't fucking believe it.

You felt like you had been going crazy with Wanda lately. She was gone one minute and was always around the next, in short skirts or revealing tops. Wanda was there. She acted friendly, and then, in a second, she couldn't stand you.

You couldn't make heads or tails of what was happening.

Was she getting me back?

One way or another?

You sighed as you sat down on your bed at the compound. Natasha was gone on a mission, and even if you wanted to talk to her, you couldn't really do it about Wanda.

You would be lying if you said you didn't miss Wanda at times when Natasha wouldn't get your jokes or how her and Wanda's idea of nights in were different.

On top of that, you missed Wanda's touch. You hate to say it, but you miss feeling her skin under your hand or hearing her whispered sighs escape through her lips.

You groan and lift up from the bed. You head down to the gym to distract yourself. It's empty when you get there and by the time you're finishing up. Yet, with your headphones in and your back to the door. You don't hear Wanda enter the room.

Wanda had listened to your thoughts repeatedly for the last two hours. She had smiled wide and touched herself briefly as your frustrated moans left you. She knew how close she was to getting you back.

So, as you hummed to your music, Wanda gently walked towards you.

You stopped and turned around when red magic surrounded the equipment you were using. "Wanda?" You questioned as you paused your music. She was wearing a black sports bra and bike shorts.

But god, did they stick to her like glue.

"Hi Y/n." Wanda moved closer. "What are you doing here?" You asked after swallowing your nerves and trying to keep your eyes from roaming her body. "Just thought I'd get a workout in before my date," Wanda said with a wide smile that upset you. Wanda's words were making you think twice about what happened between the two of you.

But one thing was for certain.

Her date could never do the things I could.

Wanda raised an eyebrow at that and stepped closer to you. "You've told your friends you hate me, but you love me just the same." You remained stoic even if your lips moved slightly. "Come on. Y/n.." Wanda practically moaned as she stepped closer again with a smirk. Bringing her hand up to your body and dragging her index finger from your chin to your breast.

Only stopping when you grabbed her.

"We tried the whole bygones will be bygones thing," Wanda said as she lifted her eyes from your sweaty and toned body to your beautiful eyes. Eyes she missed, looking at her with softness and lust. "I've tried harder than you." You said, making Wanda roll her eyes.

She was playing a game.

"I don't see what if done wrong," Wanda questioned. "I see the whispers in your eyes, baby. You want me." You dropped Wanda's hand and shook your head. Your thoughts descending into actions of you taking Wanda right here and now mixed with Natasha and her broken heart. "You're poison." You speak with your face inches from Wanda's. "I'm poison either way." Wanda's words cut through you easily.

She'll always be around whether she taints your thoughts and actions or keeps to herself. Wanda will always be there.

"You have someone." You say, but Wanda laughs. "You have someone, too."

You should leave, but you can't bring yourself to do it.

Wanda smiles before she pulls you forward and collides your lips with hers. A simple thing turns into a heated make-out session that leaves both breathless.

And yet Wanda pushes you away when you reach for her shorts. "I need to get started on my workout." She says with a breath between each third word. You shake your head and try again, but Wanda stops you. "Oh, honey..." Wanda coos. "You didn't think it would be that easy. Did you?" You stare at Wanda as she clicks her tongue. "I always have the upper hand, Y/n."

Wanda then looks outside as a Quinjet flies by. You're too busy scanning Wanda's face.

"Looks like she's home," Wanda says as she turns back to you. "And don't worry, I won't say anything." Wanda shrugs before turning away, leaving you standing still as your fingers touch your lips. Still a taste of Wanda. "Oh, and Y/n."

You pull your eyes to her.

"I'm gonna get you back."

dividers by @/benkeibear

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sinofwriting · 6 months

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So Many Reasons - Ollie Bearman

Words: 3,343 Summary: She honestly just wants to go to these two races to see her brother so he won’t complain about never seeing her anymore that is it. She has exams, an internship, and a job, she doesn’t have time for any of this. Note(s): Thank you V once again for commissioning the fic! I had a lot of fun writing it and may or may not have spent an hour researching different business degrees and universities and such. Reader is Andrea Kimi Antonelli’s older sister. Age gap of 3 years between her and Ollie. Not good family dynamics between her and Kimi and their father.

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Andrea, no.” Her voice is firm, perhaps harsh but she doesn’t care. She was tired, hungry, and had to stay up for at least another six hours. Her last red bull in her bag sounded better every second. “C’mon, sorella. It is my first F2 race. You can miss a few classes.” Her jaw clenches and she forces herself to take a deep breath. Thank god this was just a phone call. “No, Andrea. I can’t. I have exams.” “Ask for an extension.” “Andrea,” she snaps. “Does padre know you are asking me this?” His voice is quiet, “no.” She sighs, pushing away her work. “How is your school work going?” “It’s fine.” “And the sim?” “Good.”

It’s quiet between the two siblings.

“It’s been months since we last saw each other. Do you not miss me?” “We saw each other at Christmas.” She reminds him but softens. “Of course I do. But I’m busy. I can’t take a few days away to go to a race, at least not one that’s not in Europe.” She looks at her planner, at the days blocked out with different colors. Purple for exams, blue for classes, yellow for work, green for work and classes, the dreaded orange for when she had both exams and work. It was filled for days, weeks, and months. “I could maybe make it for Imola.” She’d have to talk to her professors, put in her time now for work, but she didn��t have any exams the day after his feature race. “Maybe even Monaco if you can get me a spare pass.” She shouldn’t go to Monaco, not with her final exams to obtain her MBA starting just the day after the race, but she didn’t have any work those days and she could always bring her books with her. “Really?” She smiles at the excitement in his voice. “Really. Are you sure you want your big sister around?” “Yes. It will be nice to have family in the paddock. Someone other than dad.” She hums, eyes widening as they catch the time. “Let me know about the passes for the different races, okay? As soon as you get them I’ll talk to my professors.” “I will.” “Bye Andrea.” “Bye.”

—

“Mr. Garcia?” She knocks on the door frame. “You asked to see me?” He smiles, beckoning her in. “Yes. Please sit.” He gestures at the chairs in front of his desk before quickly typing something. She sits down, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans after you get your MBA.” “I’d like to get a travel position or be able to work remotely half of the time. Then I think after ten years of doing that, I’d like to take a bigger account or two.” He hums, looking at her consideringly. “Why the travel position?” “I like traveling, going to different places, and when I went once before with Maria, I liked what she had to do.” “You're also good with languages.” “Yes.” “And the hybrid?” She fidgets a little. “The same reasons really as the travel position and I like the extended hours.” His lips twitch into a smile, “Maria hated remote.” She nods.

“She said you’d be suited for it.” Her leg that had started to bounce stops. He leans forward, “I’d like to keep you on. I know that your internship with Maria ends the first week of May. And that you’re only supposed to continue to work with us until August. But I’d like to offer you the remote position, starting June 20th.” She looks at him with a slight open mouth. “What,” she clears her throat. “What exactly would that look like?” He pushes forward a folder. “All of the details are in there, but there are two important things. There will only be a few days every month that require you in the office. Those days are always made known at least two weeks in advance, some as much as six months.” She nods. “The second is you will have strict deadlines. Miss two within a three month period and you will be on probation, meaning that for a time you will be spending at least eighty hours in office for the month, until your probation is up. Look over all the details and get back to me next week.” “Of course.” Taking the folder, she stares at it before standing. “Thank you, Mr. Garcia.” “Of course, Ms. Antonelli.”

—

“Andrea!” She calls, seeing him looking around. His head turns to look at her, a large grin taking over his face. “Sorella!” He calls, jogging over to her. “You made it.” She rolls her eyes, pushing him away when he tries to give her a hug. “I told you two weeks ago I’d make it to Imola. It’s not my fault, you don’t listen.” She touches her ears before giving him a quick hug. “How are you feeling?” “Good.” She hums, following him as he leads her to what she assumes is Prema’s space for this race.

The good was false that was more than clear to see, if she wasn’t his sister, she’d know just by looking at the F2 races so far. Round four with no podiums? Or pole position. Her brother was surely smarting. She wondered if it had hit him yet that he wasn’t the most talented driver in this series yet.

Entering the Prema garage she smiles when Rene immediately greets her.

“How are you?” “I’m good. Very good. How are you? How is Angelina?” “I am good, I’m sure you saw the Indycar news.” She nods, watching as Andrea starts talking to either a mechanic or an engineer. “I did. It sounds amazing.” “Very amazing. And Angelina, well,” He pauses, turning his head and calling her over.

“Oh, Y/N.” “Angelina.” She greets back, melting into the hug the older woman gives. “How are you doing?” “I’m doing good. And you are well?” “Of course, it is the season.” She smiles at her, knowing all too well how much everyone loved the motorsport season.

“Kimi!” Angelina calls and she has to stop herself from flinching at the use of his nickname. “You did not tell me that your sister was coming.” He shrugs, “She’s coming next race as well.” “You are coming to Monaco?” She shrugs, adjusting her purse. “It’s my last free time before my exams and Andrea asked when I was going to come.” Rene and Angelina share a look but before either can say anything, someone interrupts.

“Angelina, Dino and Antonio are wondering about the next shoot.” The older woman sighs, “And neither of them could get me themselves.” He shoots her a grin, and it’s the sight of his grin that makes her realize that this is Andrea’s teammate. “I volunteered.” Angelina shakes her head, muttering under her breath but leaves the small group.

“Ah, Ollie, this Y/N. Y/N, this is Ollie.” Rene introduces. She shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you.” “You as well. Are you new to the team?” “No.” She laughs, pulling her hand from his. “Just a guest for this race and next.” “Oh.” He looks at Rene questioningly, but the older man is already in conversation with other people. “I could give you a tour, if you’d like.” “You don’t need to do that.” He smiles, giving a small shrug with his shoulders. “I don’t mind.” “Don’t you have race prep?” She can see just behind him, Andrea talking to another two people, their heads all gathered around a tablet. “I finished mine already.” Her lips purse. “At least let me get you a coffee from Ferrari’s hospitality.” Her nose nearly wrinkles at the word coffee, but Ferrari… She wasn’t into motorsports by choice, but she was Italian. She knew the allure of Ferrari and more so now Charles Leclerc than the team itself better than anyone. “So, coffee?” He grins. She sighs but nods. “Just one though.” She doesn’t think she could stomach another one.

“You don’t like coffee do you?” He asks nearly twenty minutes later as she sips at the coffee he got her and she chooses not to think too hard about the money she tried to hand him that he refused. “No.” She laughs. “But you like Ferrari.” “I’m Italian, Ollie. I think I get kicked out of the country, especially this part if I don’t bleed rosso corsa.” “Yet your brother is a Mercedes junior.” She pauses, “My brother?” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m sorry, it’s just Kimi, he has a picture of you. I asked about it once, because I already knew what his girlfriend looked like.” “I didn’t know that.” She wondered when the picture was from. Not from this Christmas, that was for sure. Ollie stares at her for a few seconds, something dancing in his eyes before turning the conversation back around. “It is a bit funny isn’t it? An Italian choosing Mercedes, while an Englishman chooses Ferrari.” “A second Charles Leclerc in the making.” She muses, remembering an article that said it. He flushes red. “I wouldn’t say that.” She shrugs, “Then other people will for you.”

Her phone buzzing makes her look away and she rolls her eyes at the text from Andrea. “I have to go back, Andrea is looking for me. Thank you for the coffee.” He nods, standing with her. “No problem.” He then opens his mouth again, quickly closing it. She raises an eyebrow and he flushes a bit more. “Could I get your number?” “Ah.” She glances down at her phone, another text on the screen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “Why not?” She can think of a million reasons. “It’s just not a good idea.” She settles on. “What if I want it as a friend?” She sends him a look and he grins. “I could do friends.” She shakes her head, “I need to go. Thank you again.” “Anytime.”

—

“You're at a race.” “Padre.” She greets, watching the screens as the sprint race goes into its fifth lap. “Andrea asked me to come.” “You don’t like races.” Her lips thin. “No, I don’t. But he wanted to see me, I made time.” “Have you made time for the interview I want scheduled?” “No.” He starts to say her name and she shakes her head. “No, padre. I’m here for Andrea, to see him. Just like I will be for Monaco, that is it. I have no interest in working for you.” “For the family.” “Or that.” He sighs.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she winces at the way Andrea gets overtaken, can already imagine the way he’ll beat himself up over it if he doesn’t regain the position, especially with the way Ollie is in P2, no battle in sight, as he more than comfortably keeps the place.

An arm wraps around her shoulders and she easily goes into her fathers side. “I miss my little girl.” She bites back on the words that want to crawl from her throat. “Love you too.”

—

“So,” she startles at the sound of a voice and the owner of it grins. “You don’t like coffee.” “Hello, Ollie.” “Hi.” He greets back. “You don’t like coffee.” He repeats. “I don’t like coffee.” She can’t help but smile at the way he grins at her responding to him. “What about,” he pauses looking around, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Red bull?” “I’m listening.”

She has to stop herself from giggling as Ollie leads her through Ferrari’s garage. She really shouldn’t be here. And not just because she shouldn’t even be at the race.

Stopping in front of a door, she watches as Ollie knocks, sending her a grin as he does.

“Hello?” The voice is a little confused. “Ollie! Come in, come in.” And Ollie grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers as he pulls her into the room with him. “Hi Charles.” Her eyes widen at the name and she quickly schools her expression though neither are looking at her. “What are you doing here?” Ollie grins at the older man. “I wanted to introduce you to someone and raid your fridge.” Charles rolls his eyes. “At least you don’t ask permission anymore.”

The tease makes her stiffen, this was a lot more than she felt she should be seeing or hearing.

“No, I learned.” Ollie laughs and then he’s tugging her closer. “Charles, this is Y/N.” A bit of tension leaves her when he doesn’t say her last name. “Y/N, this is Charles.” “Bonjour.” She greets, keeping her free hand firmly by her side as she wiggles her fingers in Ollie’s hand, but he just brushes his thumb over her knuckles. Charles’ eyes brighten at the greeting. “Bonjour. Est-ce un accent italien que j'entends?” (“Hello. Is that an Italian accent I hear?”) “Oui. Je suis italienne et je vis actuellement en France.” (“Yes. I am Italian currently living in France.) His grin widens. “Oh, très bien. Votre français est bon.” (“Oh, very nice. Your French is good.”) She ducks her head. “Merci.” (“Thank you.”)

“I didn’t know you spoke French.” Ollie says. She gives him a look. It should make his smile falter a little, but it only grows. “An Italian living in France. A bit uncommon, no?” Charles asks, handing her then Ollie a Red Bull. Before grabbing one for himself. “I study there.” “What are you studying?” Ollie asks, “Ki,” he stops himself. “Andrea never said.” Her eyes narrow at the catch, wondering why exactly he did it. “Accounting. And I’m not surprised. If it’s not something racing related, my brother has no interest.” Charles laughs. “I think Lorenzo and you would get along well. Having siblings that live and breath racing while you don’t.” “Maybe.” “Are you close to getting your degree?” “I am actually. My final exams start Monday.” “And you came to the Monaco Grand Prix?” Charles’ eyes are wide. “Yes.” “My goodness.” He looks at Ollie, winking at him. “This one is a keeper.” “Oh,” she says, feeling blood rush to her cheeks and Ollie is turning pink. “We aren’t.” He shrugs, taking a drink of his red bull. “Maybe not yet.” His eyes then fall to their still intertwined fingers and she gives another tug to Ollie’s hand, expecting him now to let go, but he doesn’t. “No, not yet.”

—

“What race are you coming to next?” Her hand tingles at the sound of Ollie’s voice. “I’m not.” “What?” She turns to face him. “Andrea wanted me at the first race of the season, but I couldn’t make it, so I said I’d come to these two.” She doesn’t mention that the want of her coming was because he apparently missed her. She had her doubts about that, especially after this weekend. “You don’t think he’ll ask you to come again?” She looks around, seeing no one nearby, she sighs. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t come. I love my brother, but not on race weekends, not during the season. I’ve seen you more than him.” Ollie’s face that had looked shocked, turns to understanding. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She shrugs. “He’s busy.” Ollie looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn’t.

Instead he leans a bit closer, “so, could I get your number now?” She laughs, shaking her head. “No. Still not happening.” “Oh, c’mon. I won today. This is the one thing I want as the Monaco F2 feature race winner.” She shakes her head. “Maybe, if you actually wanted it as a friend. I’d say yes.” “And why can’t we be more than friends?” He’s closer now somehow and she has to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Ollie,” Her name spills from his lips in a gentle sigh as he leans ever closer. “We can’t.” She whispers, hand against his chest, holding him place. “Why? Give me one good reason why.”

He’s guiding her backwards, down the short hallway and into a room that’s thankfully empty, the door shutting behind him.

“One good reason.” “You’re Andrea’s teammate.” “For nine more weekends.” She lets out a shaky breath, watching as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I’m busy with school and work.” “You have final exams this week, which you’ll pass. And I’m busy with work as well.” “You're younger than me. I’m twenty-two, you just turned nineteen.” He shrugs, her eyes following the strong line of shoulders with the movement. “I’m an adult. And I like you.” “Ollie.” She breathes. He’s closer than ever before, their lips nearly brushing. “I’m still waiting.” Her eyes scan his face, his words full of confidence, his body too, but he’s flushed and his nervousness is easy to read. And she delivers the reason that has to make him see reason. Because she doesn’t know if he stays this close to her if she can stop herself from kissing him. “Your parents,” his throat bobs. “Would never approve.” He looks at her and she looks back, holding her breath, waiting for him to back away but he doesn’t, and god when does Ollie ever do things she expects. “They don’t need to.” He whispers and then he’s kissing her.

—

“What are you talking about?” “Andrea,” “No.” He stops her, shaking her head. “What do you mean, you are seeing Oliver?” He spits the name out. “Don’t, Andrea.” “NO!” His face is red and she’s reminded of the times when he wanted candy that she had and threw a fit over not getting it instead. “He is, he is,” he shakes his head. “I don’t even know what he is. He is my teammate, he works in motorsports, you hate motorsports.” She keeps quiet, watching as her brother processes the news. “He is younger than you, barely older than me. And you.” He shakes his head again. “Does padre know?” She scoffs, now shaking her head. “Does padre know? That’s all you care about isn’t it. If our father approves or not, if you knows what he thinks, because heaven forbid Kimi,” he flinches at the name. “You think for yourself.” “That is not.” “Don’t.” She cuts him off. “Yes, he knows. Don’t worry he disapproves as well. So, you don’t have to think for yourself again.”

She stares at her younger brother, knowing that this is her fault, but she can’t, she still doesn’t have it in her to deal with it, not today. “I will talk to you sometime, Andrea.”

—

“Your fans are lovely.” Ollie makes a humming sound, half asleep. She pauses her scrolling on twitter, unable to stop herself from liking the picture of Charles’ dog in his own personal little car. “Your fans. Very creative as well. They can’t call me a gold digger, but a fame seeker? Well, if the shoe fits.” “They what?” He sounds so much more awake, it makes her laugh. “It’s just hate, Ollie. I’m an old woman praying on the young. Apparently I’m like Piquet.” “Ew.” And she can picture his nose wrinkling. “You know you aren’t though right?” “An old woman?” She jokes. “A predator.” She softens, turning in his arms, so that they are chest to chest. “I know.” “I mean, really if anything I was.” “You were very insistent.” He flushes. “Only a little.” She nods, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Only a little.”

“I know we talked about it before, but are you okay with everything?” “Yes. I mean, it hurts that Andrea is still not okay with it but my father’s opinion has not mattered to me in a long time. And no matter what the media and fans were never going to give us peace, so I made my peace with that as well. Besides, your parents are okay with it.” “They love you.” “Our friends are understanding.” “They are.” “And you aren’t about to dedicate any more podiums to me.” He grins at her and dread starts to form in her stomach. “Ollie…” “About that last one.” “Ollie!”

@crashingwavesofeuphoria @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

#ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman imagine #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 imagine #sins fics

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mechaknight-98 · 6 months

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Festivities (NSFW) FT Sakura Miyawaki

Authors note: Sakura has been too hot this comeback, and it's her birthday today…so yeah enjoy

Part II

Sakura sighed as she sat alone on her birthday. She had expected this as her favorite boy toy had told her he would be busy but would make it up to her. Her other members all had schedules throughout the day which made it harder for her. Sakura didn't hate being alone. she liked being by herself and relaxing and reenergizing like a true introvert but hated the feeling of being isolated and today she felt it. So after she did her birthday live she was colored surprised when she got a knock on the Door. She squints as she opens it and shock paints her face Daigo smiles and enters her Dorm.

“Long time no see Kura.” the young man says to her. Sakura smiles

“Yeah oh my gosh, it has been so long. 3 years right?” Sakura asked. Daigo nodded.

“So how have you been?” Daigo asked

“Busy” Sakura replied

Daigo smiled, “Honestly same work has me drowning most days, but that's trivial. It's your birthday today! You know I had to come and celebrate with you. So what do you want to do today Kura?”

“Hmm? Let's go to the PC bang!” the Japanese woman said excitedly.

Daigo nodded but dreaded internally he knew what she was going to ask him to play with her and he was not happy about it. “What do you want to play Kura?”

“Destiny 2.” Daigo reels for a moment then acquiesces.

“Okay,” he relents as the two of them go to the PC bang. Sakura is elated. She hated being isolated as recently as it made her feel empty almost. After having spent so many years around sisters having space all to herself felt wrong. She was surprised to see her gaming pen pal of many years but appreciated the company, especially since her usual boy toy was with Chaewon and her schedule. She supposed this is the reason you don't fuck your managers but Sakura needed it with all the anxiety and doom-scrolling she would often fall victim to she needed someone to vent her fury on to.

“So Diago when did you fly in?” Sakura asked as they walked together. She grabbed him tightly clinging to his warmth in the cool early spring air

Daigo counted in his hands “Um two days ago.” Daigo answered

“Was it just for me?” Sakura asked hopeful

“Of course, my little Cherry Blossom,” Daigo responded Sakura smiled and grasped him close tighter,

“Your Korean has gotten much better,” Sakura noted.

“Well, I have an excellent teacher.” Daigo praised Sakura she smiled. She loved how sweet and kind he was to her.

“How is everyone? This comeback has been…extensive from what I've seen.” Daigo asked choosing his words carefully as he saw a myriad of emotions in Sakura’s eyes. The main one is Fatigue.

Feeling comfortable Sakura slipped out of Sakura Miyawaki the it girl, idol, host, and fell into Kura.

“Oh god, it's overwhelming. Our company has been running us ragged. Can you believe they have us going to California right before the world tour?” Daigo raised an eyebrow. A world tour hadn't been announced previously, but he let it rest.

“Well for that Cali trip, I may be able to potentially confirm that you may or may not see a friend there.” Daigo obfuscated.

Kura looked at him confused, then asked,

“What state are you from Daigo? When you speak English your accent doesn't sound like this from anywhere.” Daigo smiled

“I'm from Cali Kura.” Daigo chuckled and watched as Kura put the pieces together.

“You're coming to visit?” Daigo nodded to which Kura smiled brightly and hugged him, but then a sad feeling washed over her

“I wish you could stay in Korea,” Sakura said wistfully.

“But then I wouldn't be your cool American friend I'd just be your loser gamer friend in Korea.” Daigo half-joked. He looked at Kura before adding. “Your hair is pretty this way I like it.” Sakura smiled as she twirled around accidentally whipping his face with her ponytail. Daigo reeled from her unintended attack. As Sakura turned around ( and realized what happened ) she profusely apologized for her actions, but Daigo took it in stride.

After the PC Bang and dinner, Daigo led Kura up to her dorm.

“So Kura need anything else?” Daigo asked politely as he stood in the open doorway. Sakura’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah your cock.” she says huskily as she slams the door shut with surprising force. She quickly pulls down Daigo’s sweatpants and gets on her knees. She begins to mercilessly suck his cock

“Shit Kura.” Daigo hisses at her aggressive behavior. While it's a bit of a turn-on, it's still shocking she began to fondle his balls hoping to coax a large load from him

“Can you give me two loads for my birthday one large one down my throat and the other in my pussy, I need it,” she said as she came up for air. Before going back down on him. Daigo groans as he hardens in her mouth. After he's reached full mast Sakura smiles

“There we go.” she cooed as she led Daigo to her bedroom. Where she quickly resumed her vacuum-tight seal. As she sucks Daigo off she also lathers his cock with her spit before using her tongue to stimulate the tip before poking his slit with her tongue causing Daigo to jerk his hips. Sakura smiles around his cock. Seeing the usually calm and collected Daigo so flustered encouraged her to suck harder and harder until

“Fuck Kura I'm cumming.” Daigo said in English but Sakura based on his body still got the message as he exploded into her mouth. She kept sucking to extend his orgasm for as long as possible. Daigo eventually had to pry her off of him. Sakura opened her mouth to reveal his load and she swallowed.

“Thank you for the meal,” she said luridly before wiping the drool off her cheek.

The action itself was enough to get Daigo hard again. He dropped his pants fully and ripped Sakura’s off before lining up his cock with her pussy. Sakura gave a sexy lip bite to Daigo driving him wild and he plunged into her. Her sodden pussy greedily accepted the intrusion. Daigo grunted as he bottomed out.

“You're such a slut you know that?” Daigo said with a virile vigor as he whispered huskily into Sakura’s ear. Slowly he pulled out of her. As he did he said, “We go on one date and you're on your knees demanding two loads.” sakura’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. Daigo slammed back into her sex hard sending a ripple through Sakura’s body. Daigo watched with Devilish glee as Sakura’s ass rippled.

“Oh fuck.” Sakura moaned

“Is that it? are you just a breeding bitch in heat needing your stud to fuck and breed you,” Daigo said.

Sakura moaned. Her body tensed around Daigo’s cock at the mention of being bred. She loved it. The thought of being claimed by and filled to the brim made her wetter and tighter.

Daigo thrust into her deeper “Do you like that? Does the thought of being my exclusive breeding bitch make you wet?” Daigo asked.

“Oh God yes. Please make me yours. Ruin all other cocks for me.” Sakura moaned

Watching Sakura’s body and her responses made something click for Daigo “Has my little Breeding bitch been with other cocks. Bad girl.” Daigo said as he smacked her jiggly ass. Sakura’s tone took on an even higher pitch.

“Ah fuck, Ah fuck.” she moaned as Daigo thrusts into her relentlessly he never increases his pace. He keeps the same constant slow in and out but the intensity of the thrust is what wrecks Kura as she nears her climax.

“Are you close?” Daigo asks. Sakura looks over her shoulder and nods.

“Ready to become my breeding bitch forever?” Daigo asks and Sakura nods again giving in to her body’s demands

“Yes ruin and stain my slutty pussy with your cum. All I'll be good for is breeding. Fill me. Make me yours.” Sakura screams before Daigo explodes in her pussy triggering Sakura’s orgasm. Daigo continues to fuck her through it. As Daigo drops more and more cum into Sakura’s cunt her orgasm high raises higher and higher. As their bodies continue a feral heat claims both of them as they continue fucking. Kura’s pussy begins to drip beneath them as Daigo continues to pound her sopping sex.

“Does my breeding bitch like her birthday gift,” Daigo asks with a noticeable lusted husk in his voice.

“Yes.” sakura moans unsatisfied. “I need more. Breed me again.”

“Such a greedy bitch. Do your other cocks make you feel this way?” Daigo questions.

Sakura’s body and mind were now Daigo’s, “no cock has ever claimed me like yours.” sakura said as Daigo kept ravaging her. Sakura’s words and body beginning to affect him as well. He was never this aggressive to a woman but something breeding and Kura activated something within him he didn't know he had, and it bonded him to her as much as she bonded to him.

“Fuck Kura your pussy is so tight.” Daigo praised, and Sakura was elated proud her stud liked her pussy so much.

“Don't you love the way my greedy pussy sucks in your cock.” Sakura said in a lusted daze

“Yeah, my breeding bitch has the best pussy.” Daigo’s unexpected words of praise and his ferocity sent Kura over the edge again and she came again. Gone was the talented, accomplished, confident, and dominant megastar. In her place a dumb submissive and breedable bitch who was a cum dump for her stud. It was liberating to her. Her anxiety washed away with each drop of cum as her thoughts only centered around being bred. She groaned as Daigo kept thrusting into her and he continued to claim her slutty pussy.

Her surprise orgasm however took her partner by surprise and led to him cumming in her again. Sakura’s greedy cunt readily accepted the baby batter, but the fatigue of their activities prior caught up to them and they collapsed onto Kura’s bed together side by side. As they basked in the post-orgasm glow and enjoyed the company of each other a sad realization hit Sakura causing her to pout. As Sakura pouted, Daigo took Notice

“What's wrong Kura?” Daigo asked concern filling his voice.

“Now I'm going to miss you and that dick of yours.” she lamented. Daigo chuckled.

“Well I don't know about that second part but we can still play together.” Sakura’s pout slightly faded before saying

“Okay, but the next time I see you I want the same treatment.”

“What am I your boyfriend now or something?” Daigo teased

“Yes. Yes, you are. As of now, you are my stud and I am your breeding bitch got it?” Sakura asserted

Unsure of how to respond Daigo said “Um okay” Sakura smiled happy to get good games, good food, and good dick for her birthday. With all her needs met she fell asleep in Daigo’s big arms

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #miyawaki sakura #le sserafim smut #le sserafim sakura #le sserafim fanfic #izone smut #izone sakura

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geeky-politics-46 · 1 year

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Kinktober 2023 - Day 6

Sex Tape with Doctor Stephen Strange

"A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You are feeling self-concious & down on your appearance, but Stephen has an unconventional idea of how to make you realize how sexy & beautiful you really are.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - body image issues, voyeurism & exhibitionism via photo & video, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, oral sex, creampie, vaginal sex, slight daddy kink, a bit of fluff & a little angst.

You weren't even sure what had triggered your self-image issues at the moment. Honest to God, you were just sitting in bed watching a YouTube video, pursuing the sidebar recommended videos when you started comparing yourself to other people.

It didn't matter if it was just a random ad or a promo for a TV show. You started sizing yourself up to all the actresses, models, and even some normal people. No matter who it was, you felt you couldn't compare.

Your stomach was too big. Your butt was too small. You were too short. Too plain looking. Hell, sometimes you weren't even sure how you compared to average. You didn't think you were hideous, but you forever felt like the ugly duckling. Like the potential to be beautiful was there. It just never blossomed. Or, like you sabotaged being pretty by not having enough restraint to eat better or lose weight.

For once in your life, you wanted to be the bombshell. You were too weird to be the girl next door. You always fell into the quirky/cute and funny category. People fell for you once they got to know your personality, but you knew that never once had you stopped a guy dead in his tracks across the room.

In an effort to make yourself feel smaller, you dug around for your massive old sweatshirt. The one you wore whenever you were feeling sad. The material had piled up in places, and it was starting to get holes in others, but the super stretchy material still felt just as big and cozy as if it was brand new. The dark eggplant purple color was also somehow soothing compared to the mostly blacks and grays of your daily wardrobe.

You had settled back in, deep in your own thoughts, when your partner entered the bedroom. You had been with Doctor Stephen Strange for a while now. Long enough that you had more or less informally moved into the Sanctum. You got to spend more time with Stephen and didn't have to pay rent. It was a win-win. The only downside was that you couldn't hide from him when your inner demons reared up.

You didn't even realize he had been talking to you as he changed out of his sorcerer's robes and into his sweats for bed. It wasn't until he sat down in front of you and lifted your chin up to look directly at him that you realized you weren't paying any attention to a thing he was saying.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

You hated the genuine concern on his face. He spent his days literally saving the universe, and here you were trapped inside your own spiraling thoughts.

"Nothing is wrong."

You said it while staring down at your hands. You were never good at hiding things from Stephen when you were face to face.

"Even if I wasn't a brilliant doctor, MD, and PhD, I know that's your 'I'm sad' sweatshirt. So something is definitely wrong."

You closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to jiggle loose the thoughts that were waying you down. Not wanting to waste Stephen's time with your shallow worries. Yeah, he was your boyfriend, but he had plenty more vastly important things to do than talk you off a self-image cliff.

"It's stupid, Stephen."

"Don't care. You've listened to me say stupid stuff plenty of times. This just makes us one closer to even."

You rolled your eyes at him, and you knew he wasn't about to give up. Stephen was the most stubborn person you had ever met. In fact, his stubbornness was part of why he pursued you for so long before you finally agreed to go out with him. If he was set on finding out what was bothering you, nothing would stop him until you told him.

So after another moment of trying to get him off the topic, you finally relented and told him what had you feeling down. Shrinking down farther into your sweatshirt as you spoke, fumbling for the right words. Letting the cozy fabric serve as its own kind of armor.

"I don't even know what got me thinking it, but I'm just feeling down on myself. That there just isn't anything about me physically that is special. I don't think I'm ugly, I just don't get why you bothered to even give me a second glance. Let alone what keeps you interested. You are the great Doctor Strange. You are so hot, Stephen, and I'm just me. I'm just plain. I'm chubby with stretch marks. You are gorgeous. You could literally be with the most beautiful women in the world."

You could see him almost flinch when you called yourself plain and that you doubted how enamored he was with you. Even if he knew it was only a passing thought, he never wanted you to question his love for you. Ever.

When it took a few moments for him to say anything in response, you immediately started to take it all back. Not wanting to drag him down into your funk with you.

"See, I shouldn't have said anything, I'm just having a bad night and -"

Stephen cut you off with a passionate kiss. The kind of kiss that could make you forget your own name. Cupping your face in both of his hands before pulling away from your lips to place several more small kisses on your forehead and in your hairline. Gradually adjusting so he could pull you closer and wrap his arms tighter around you.

"First of all, I love you so much you don't even know. So don't think for one second I would rather be with anyone else. Second of all, I know that you don't necessarily see what I see when you look in the mirror, and you don't even have to believe me, but you are gorgeous. Do you not see that half the other guys practically trail you around like puppies? Rogers turns bright red when you smile at him, and it's a wonder Barnes and Wilson haven't followed you home like strays yet."

That made you laugh. You did know Steve had harbored a crush on you before you started dating Stephen. Tony had let that spill one night after a party. Both Sam and Bucky were such flirts all the time with everyone. Of course, they always acted sweet on you. You assumed it was just them or their way of being nice. You would have to pay better attention next time you saw them, though. Just to see.

"If one of them does follow me home, can I keep him?"

You squinted your eyes and pouted your lips at Stephen. You loved giving him a hard time, and he loved giving you one right back.

"Absolutely not. Even if they scratch and howl at the door all night long. I'm the only one who gets to keep strays, and that only applies to America. On a good day, maybe Parker."

You giggled and shook your head in agreement. America was definitely a great addition to your little family. It did lift your spirits a little thinking about all of that, but it still didn't leave you feeling better about yourself.

Stephen could see the way you were picking at the skin on your hands. Like you were trying to pick away the self-consciousness or what you felt were imperfections. It was a habit he noticed you fell into when you were extra hard on yourself. So, in an effort to distract you and stop you from picking at your skin, he took one of your hands in both of his.

"Do you remember the day you held my hand the first time? Do you have any idea how terrified I was? I was terrified that you were suddenly going to realize how broken and ugly my hands are. How damaged I am, and realize just how below your own league you were dating. Still are, by the way, so maybe I shouldn't say anything. You are the sexiest most beautiful woman I have ever met, inside and out. Every inch of you is incredible and perfect to me. I thought that before you even said a word to me, and getting to know you, and falling in love with you has only made me more sure. There is no one in this universe I could ever find sexier or more special."

"Tell you what, I have an idea..."

Stephen stood up from the bed, moving over to shut the bedroom door. Throwing the lock, too. Now that you had a teenager running about the Sanctum, it was better safe than sorry. Then, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Setting it on airplane mode as he walked back over to you.

"How about I show you what I see? Give you some actual physical proof of how beautiful you are? A picture is worth a thousand words. I imagine some more revealing, naughty photos would be worth even more."

You chuffed at him and raised a questioning brow at his suggestion.

"Stephen, are you seriously suggesting that I let you take naked photos of me as a way of making me feel better about myself? Are you sure that isn't just gonna make you feel better?"

His signature cheeky grin was plastered on his face, and his bright blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"Can't it do both? Besides, you know I've asked before for something I can enjoy when I can't have you with me, and I think you look perfect right now. Already in our bed. Already cozy and dressed for bed. Few layers to take off. This is the you I want to see when I'm not here with you."

He came over to where you were still sitting on the bed. An extra swagger in his step and a grin because of the blush you were now sporting. He started to pull teasingly at the hem of your sweatshirt with the hand he didn't have his phone in.

"Come on, take this off. I want you to see how sexy you are. I promise I will let you delete them if you want, although I certainly wouldn't mind keeping a couple for myself, but I want you to see how you look when it's just you and me. Right here, in this bed. The version of you that only I get to see, at least I do hope it's only me. A woman who puts all those supermodels and Playmates to shame. Even first thing in the morning. A goddess if one ever existed, even with bedhead and morning breath."

Layer by layer, you let Stephen slowly strip off your clothes and arrange you on the bed. His fingers and lips adoring every new inch of skin that he exposed before proceeding to take picture after picture. Lovingly caressing every spot you deemed less than perfect. Letting him talk you through pose after pose. Some were simple and basic, normal poses. Some a bit more sultry with little left to imagine. The less clothing remained, the more bold he got with your poses.

As your impromptu photoshoot went on, he also tried to distract you from feeling self-conscious about your body coming into view. Sometimes, by making you laugh. Sometimes, by getting a goofy look on his face as he just kind of stared at you. Almost awestruck.

"You really have no idea how much I fantasize about you, do you? How much of my day I spend trying not to think about you? How when we first started dating, I felt like a teenager trying to control his raging hormones because all I could think of was this. What it would be like if I got the privilege to get this beautiful, incredible woman naked in my bed. That I swore if I got you here, I would never let you leave. I hate that someone ever made you feel like you are anything less than gorgeous, whether in your ratty sad sweatshirt or all dressed up. Although, this, no clothes at all, is definitely my personal favorite."

You tried not to tear up at his genuine sweetness. You could feel your cheeks blushing at his statement, too. You buried your face into the pillow you were holding before softly turning and peeking out at him from the side. Only to find him waiting for the moment you locked eyes with him to take a photo.

In a sudden burst of confidence, you bit your bottom lip and rolled onto your back. Letting the entirety of your body be on display. Laying back and resting your head on the pillow and stretching your arms up overhead, your legs spreading on their own. You closed your eyes and arched your back as you inhaled deeply. Like you were a cat basking in the warmth of the sun.

Your mind was completely clear of all thought until you heard a stuttered breath from your lover. It was a sound you had never heard Stephen make before. It sounded like he was looking at a priceless piece of art or one of the seven wonders. He sounded like he was in awe. Like he was in awe at the sight of your body and your beauty.

You were about to dismiss his, what you were sure had to be, over embellished praise, but then you opened your eyes. You were rendered speechless by the look of utter wonder on his face as he let his cerulean blue eyes wash over every inch of you. For possibly the first time, you saw him really seeing you, and it melted any remaining self-doubt you had in that moment.

You immediately reached out to pull Stephen to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly. Rubbing your nose against his and whispering loving thanks against his lips.

"Thank you, Stephen. I love you, and even though I don't necessarily see what you see, you always make me feel beautiful. Why don't we take a few pictures together, or maybe a video or two? Maybe I want something for when you aren't here too."

Stephen's eyes darkened at the suggestion. You had your suspicion that Stephen had a bit of an exhibition kink. You had sent each other pics before, a short video clip or two, and sexted all the time. You knew the idea of filming the two of you fucking would intrigue him. A wicked smile found it's way to his face.

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how many times I've thought of you asking that or that I've thought of asking. Are you really okay with filming us fucking? Of course it's just for the two of us. Sorcerer's honor. "

Stephen started trying to fiddle with the phone, trying to figure out the best way to set it up to film the two of you. Finding it hard to concentrate after you started leaving kisses on his neck. Stopping to bite and suck at the spot just below his earlobe before continuing to whisper his darkest desires in his ear.

"Well, Stephen, actually the idea does get me a little hot. Maybe if the video turns out really good, a few seconds or minutes can get leaked to a naughty site or two. Anonymously, of course. I don't want to share you with any other woman, but I wouldn't mind showing off all the ways I worship you. Let everyone see how lucky I am. Maybe get some outside opinions of how we look together."

Stephen's eyes practically rolled back in his head at the thought. He never would suggest it himself, but he kind of loved the sound of that. Of the world getting to see how good the two of you looked together. Of seeing how well you both fit together. How your bodies were made for each other.

He scrambled off the bed using the pile of books on the dresser to create a tripod to set up the phone. Hitting record and making sure the bed was centered in the frame before coming back to join you in the sheets again. He used his magic to strip himself of his clothes. If you two were going to make a sex tape, he was gonna put some extra showmanship in it.

You couldn't help but giggle as you reach your arms out towards him. Stepben didn't waste a minute before he started crawling up your body. Teasing and nipping at your bare skin and making sure to snuggle and rub his goatee against you. Your hands immediately grabbed in his dark brown hair, loving how soft and full it felt in your fingers.

As your lips connected, you both groaned in pleasure. Your bodies grinding and rubbing. Letting your hands roam all over Stephen's body now that you had plenty of him to touch. You could feel Stephen's cock already erect between you. Truth be told, taking those photos of you had essentially acted as foreplay for him. He was ready to go by the time he was setting up the camera.

You moaned when you felt his hard shaft slide against the crease of your hip, so close to your sex that was starting to ache for him. Your legs reflexively spread even more on the large bed, and your nails scraped down Stephen's sides.

"Is there something you want, baby? Tell Daddy what you need."

A sly smile on his face as he spoke. Loud enough to make sure the camera heard. Descending back on you and starting to kiss your neck. Sucking a patch or skin into his mouth hard enough to ensure you would bear a mark the next day.

Your brain finally coming back into focus when he playfully bit the same sensitive spot. His bright blue eyes met yours, and he gave you a cheeky wink.

"Come on, pretty baby. Don't get all shy on me now. Not after you let me take all those naughty pictures of you. Plus, this part was your idea, after all. So you better speak up."

A soft groan pulled from your throat as you arched your back and ran your hands up his strong arms. Letting your fingernails scrape along his shoulders. Leaving little red scratches marking him as yours.

"Want you, Stephen. Want you to fuck me. Pretty please, Stephen. Fuck me like only you can, baby."

He rewarded you with a deep kiss, letting his teeth nip at your bottom lip before he started working his way down your neck. Stopping to whisper a "that's my good girl" in your ear before continuing down to your collarbones. Raising his voice once again so it would be audible on the video when he started speaking again.

"You know you are the only one I want to fuck right? This is the only body that gets me this fucking hard. Your's is the only pretty little pussy I dream about filling up every chance I get. Want you full of my cum all the time. Want everyone to know you're mine."

You felt over the moon as Stephen started to kiss his way down your body. Stopping and spending a little bit of extra attention every time he hit a spot that elicited a gasp or moan. Making you arch your back to give him access to every inch of bare skin you could.

He momentarily popped back up to kiss your lips. Suddenly taking your hand in his and lowering it so you were cupping his hard length. Letting his hips rut forward as you started to eagerly massage his hard cock. Already moving to sit up, anticipating taking him in your mouth, only for him to push you back down on the bed.

"Nope, I'm not done with you, baby, lay back. Just wanted you to feel how hard you got me. Feel how much taking those naughty photos of you turned me on? And they are all mine to enjoy, just like my cock is all yours to enjoy."

With that, he promptly began working his way back down your body. Coming to rest between your thighs, pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Leaving small nips on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh and rubbing his facial hair against your skin to tease you.

A soft "Stephen, please!" escaped from your lips as you impatiently waited for his lips and tongue to work their magic on you. Feeling your hips thrust on their own when you felt him blow against your wet cunt. Making your sex flutter and clench. One of his favorite sights.

"Make sure you don't hold back any of those pretty noises darling, want to make sure everyone can hear. Look at the camera as I eat you out, baby."

You followed his instructions and let your head turn to the side. Keeping your eyes open as you stared into the lens. Trying to fight the inkling of self-consciousness tugging at the back of your mind.

Those thoughts vanished completely the moment you felt Stephen's warm tongue make its first pass through your folds. All you could focus on was the feeling of his mouth on you. The scratch of his goatee against your most sensitive spots. He was taking his time. Lavishing your cunt with long licks and sucking kisses.

Stephen was a perfectionist, and that translated into every aspect of his life. Including sex. His photographic memory helping to make sure he knew exactly what way to lick and suck at your pussy to bring you to climax in record time. Only using his fingers on occasion. He could get you there with his mouth alone. Tonight was clearly going to be one of those nights.

Your back arched as he suckled on your clit. Keeping your gaze locked on the camera lens. Making sure to give Stephen the sights and sounds he wanted for your video. A long moan falling when you felt his tongue thrusting in and out of you. Hitching your legs up higher and farther apart so he could go deeper while letting your hips start to rut against his face.

As soon as he could feel you getting close to orgasm, Stephen pulled away and pounced on you once again. Wasting no time before he started to slowly thrust his hard cock into you. His lips biting at your neck.

He growled when you whimpered at the feeling of his cock bottoming out inside you. Holding perfectly still and letting you start to squirm beneath him. Wanting you to beg him to move.

"Tell me what you want. Want you to say it again. Say it to the camera, sweetheart. Tell them why you're whimpering."

Your face now contorted into a pout as you tried so hard to get any sort of friction. Stephen's hips pushed flush to yours, holding you firmly in place.

"Want you to fuck me, Stephen. Need you to fuck me hard. Make me feel good, daddy. Please make me cum. Please."

He smiled and kissed you deeply. Bringing his hands to cup your face and giving you another moment of sweet intimacy before he gave you what you wanted. Pulling away and pulling your legs up over his shoulders. Scooting you just a little so the camera would be able to see his cock stretching and filling you. Once he had you right where he wanted you he began thrusting.

"You asked for it, sweetheart. You turn me on so fucking much. This is just gonna be the first time I make you cum tonight. I'm not gonna stop until you feel like a goddess. My goddess."

You reached up to intertwine you fingers with his as he started fucking you harder. Leaning forward so your ass was slightly lifted up off of the bed and his tip was pummeling that sweet spongy spot on your front wall. Making you clench around him each time he hit it. Your voice coming out in little squeaks and the sound of skin slapping punctuating Stephen's movements.

You could already feel your orgasm building when Stephen moved to bring one hand down to begin rubbing at your clit. Pulling his cock out long enough to smear some of your wetness on the swollen bundle of nerves. Your cunt immediately clenching around him as he started tracing small circles there with his thumb.

"That's it, my love. Can feel you getting close. You better cum soon because I'm not gonna be able to hold on much longer. Wanna fill you up every day. Mark you as mine. Inside and out. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum."

Stephen's own dirty talk getting the best of him. His head dropping down to watch his cock slamming in and out of your drenched cunt. Your pussy gripping tight around him sending him over the edge. His thrusts getting faster and his fingers on your clit mirroring his hips.

He let out a deep groan as he started cumming inside you. The feeling of his warm thick cum filling you triggering your own orgasm. Your cunt drenching his cock and his cum filling you completely. Your moans mingling in harmony with Stephen's. Your hands that were still clasped gripping each other tighter.

Stephen's body falling onto yours and your lips meeting for slow, sweet kisses as your highs continued to ebb and flow. The sensations slowly fading as you came back down together. The feeling of Stephen's weight on top of you lulling you closer to sleep. All worries and neuroses disappearing and receding back into the depths of your mind.

You were with Stephen, and Stephen loved you exactly as you were. He only had eyes for you, and he would love you no matter what. Even on days when you couldn't see your beauty, you knew he would help you to see it. Even when you didn't love yourself, he would give you enough love for both of you.

Eventually, Stephen rolled to the side and pulled you with him. Settling you under the covers and holding you close. Pressing kisses all over your face as you floated in the twilight space between waking and sleep. Not moving or pulling away until your breath settled into a steady rhythm that told him you were close to sleep.

Then Stephen stood up and went over to the phone. Stopping the recording and bringing the phone back over to the bed. Setting it down on his nightstand and purposely not setting his usual morning alarm. He wanted to sleep in with you tomorrow. He would deal with Wong later.

You were too exhausted to review the products of your photoshoot right now, but the next time you were feeling down or self-conscious, Stephen would be ready to show you just how beautiful you really were. If you still didn't believe him, maybe he would bring up the idea of an outside opinion like you suggested. You would have the world drooling over you, and he would get to gloat that you were all his.

--------------------------------

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Eddie’s voice rang out through Steve’s bedroom.

Steve jumped because, well, he was completely alone in his house less than a minute ago, and now Eddie Munson was standing in his doorway staring at him.

In a skirt.

Not like, a short one. Just one of Robin’s that she let him borrow with no explanation.

She kind of gave him a knowing look, but she didn’t say anything. She probably didn’t want to scare him or make him second guess himself or feel any of the shame he finally buried deep enough to even ask her for it.

It’s just when he first saw it in her closet, he fell in love with it. The way it flowed in just the right spots, how it hit above the hips (or he thought it would if he ever was brave enough to try it on), how the color was the exact shade of blue he always preferred.

And Robin never even wore it.

It was shoved in the back of her closet like a forgotten thing, never to see the light of day because then Robin would have to acknowledge something other than jeans or stupid pleated pants that were apparently “all the rage for lesbians, Steve!”

So he spent months picturing himself in it, touching the soft fabric any time he had to grab something from her closet, practicing asking to borrow it “for a girlfriend.” Practiced telling himself that skirts were only gendered because of society, or whatever bullshit spiel Robin had gone into when they saw a guy getting teased for wearing a dress in Indy.

And he believed it just fine when it came to others. Doesn’t make any man who is a man less of a man and all that.

But for him?

It’s just not allowed.

Until it was.

He was staying the night at Robin’s because they had to close and then open the next morning. She was showing him her new sweater she’d bought for her first date with Nancy that she refused to actually ask Nancy out on. When she opened the closet, he saw the edge of it.

“Can I borrow that?”

Robin looked at him like he’d gained ten heads.

“Borrow what? The sweater? No. This sweater cost more than most of my closet combined. It’s gonna be my magical confidence booster.”

“Not the sweater.” Steve took a deep breath. “The skirt.”

“Uh.”

“I mean. Not for me. Obviously. For someone else.”

Robin raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“Uh. Do I know her?”

“Nope.”

“Does she need clothes or something? I can do a closet clean out to help.”

Steve loved Robin. She wasn’t exactly well-off, but she’d literally give the shirt off her back if it meant someone else would have clothes who needed them.

He only felt a little guilty about lying to her.

“No, no. Uh. Just the skirt. She saw one like it the other day and loved it so much. She couldn’t get that one so I think if she can just wear this one once she’ll get it out of her system, ya know?”

If he was talking about himself, that was only for him to know.

But he saw the way Robin was looking at him. She knew. No amount of coverup was going to make her not know. He could only hope she wouldn’t ask questions.

“Sure. She can try it and see if it gets out of her system. She could also keep it if it doesn’t though.”

Steve gulped.

“Really?”

Robin gave him a small smile, encouraging when he felt like he was going to throw up all over her ugly bedroom carpet.

“Yeah. God knows I won’t ever wear it unless I’m being forced to.”

“Okay.” Steve smiled and walked over to the closet. “I…she’s gonna be really excited about this. Thanks, Robs.”

“Anytime Dingus.”

He turned to look at Eddie standing in his doorway, face flush with embarrassment and shame. He didn’t want this to be the end of whatever was going on between him and Eddie.

They were dancing around each other according to Robin and Will and Dustin and Max.

They were being ridiculous according to Nancy and Jonathan and Wayne.

They were being cautious according to Eddie.

They were just taking it slow.

Steve hated it.

But he knew why Eddie wanted to be cautious; Rushing into a relationship built on shared trauma is probably worth taking a little time on.

And even if they have been basically dating for months, it’s totally fine that they haven’t even kissed.

And now they probably never will because Eddie just walked in while he was wearing the skirt.

He loved this skirt. He felt pretty. He loved that when he turned in a circle, it fluttered out just enough to look cute, but not enough to show a bunch of skin. He loved the way the color made his tanned skin just a bit lighter, and he glowed a little in the mirror.

But now he would always think of Eddie leaving him in the dust because of it.

“I just. I. Sorry.”

Steve looked down at his feet, trying to feel for the zipper along the side of the skirt to take it off before he made things worse. His hands were shaking, adrenaline pouring through him so quickly he couldn’t find where the zipper began.

He felt a hand on top of his, holding it firmly to keep it from moving anymore.

“Stevie. Look at me.”

As hard as it was to do it, Steve looked up at Eddie, tears already forming in his eyes.

“You look beautiful. Keep it on, let me see you.”

And even though the words were so kind and made Steve feel so much better, he let the tears fall from his eyes.

Hearing Eddie say it out loud, that he was beautiful and allowed to wear this if it made him feel beautiful, was almost too much for him to handle. His last set of scars had really done a number on his self-confidence, but this skirt had given him hope for the first time in almost a year that he’d feel good in his skin again. Eddie had the power to tear him back down, but of course he hadn’t. He made it better, like he always did.

Eddie pulled his hand away from the skirt, holding it up and twirling him in a circle.

Steve giggled.

When was the last time he did that?

Never, maybe.

Eddie’s smile was contagious as they looked at each other with matching beaming smiles. He was staring at Steve’s face now.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy, sweetheart.” Eddie reached his unoccupied hand out to touch the waistline of the skirt. “I don’t think you know how incredible you look when you’re happy.”

What does a person even do with a compliment like that?

Pass out? Kiss? Die?

Steve settled on kissing Eddie.

It was time to move beyond whatever they’d been doing. Steve couldn’t wait any more.

If Eddie was going to not only accept this part of Steve that Steve had barely even accepted of himself, but also encourage him to feel beautiful, then Steve was going headfirst into this.

Their lips met harshly at first, Steve being a bit overzealous and misjudging how close they already were.

But within seconds, Eddie was slowing it down, placing both hands on Steve’s cheeks to control the pace better. He was licking along Steve’s bottom lip, silently asking for entrance, but not moving and faster or demanding anything more than what Steve wanted.

When they parted for air, Eddie rested his forehead against Steve’s, eyes blinking open slowly.

“You like the skirt?” Steve asked with a smirk.

“I love the person in it. I like whatever he feels best in.”

Steve sat with that for a moment, but recovered quickly.

“You love me?”

“Can’t imagine how you didn’t know, sweetheart.”

“Just didn’t know it was like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like the real kind. The kind where you love someone enough to love the things they love even if you aren’t sure what to do with it.”

“I love you the real kind.”

Eddie was smiling at him when he pulled away and left a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“I love you the most kind.”

“I love you the best kind.”

Steve laughed.

“Can we dance?”

“If you want.”

“I wanna take the skirt for a test drive.”

Eddie settled his hands on Steve’s hips and started humming a song that was definitely not usually for a slow dance, but sounded nice enough for them.

When Eddie spun Steve out and twirled him back into his arms, and his skirt moved in just the right ways, he felt more like himself than he ever had before.

And when Eddie bought him his own skirt from a store in Indy the next time they had a date night, he let himself feel pretty in a way he didn’t think was possible.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #headcanon #babygirl steve harrington #Steve deserves to feel pretty #and Eddie tells him so!!!#this was sitting in my notes for two weeks and I forgot about it lmao #maybe I should clean out my stuff more often

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sweetadonisbutbetter · 6 months

Note

Omi gosh I fell for your Adam post instantly!

What about him after getting trapped in hell or something, he gets to meet a sweet fallen angel??

Like, she was so concerned because she knew how bad it felt to be damned to hell and falling from grace so she did her best to make him feel better!

(They're both unaware that they'll be smitten with eachother in the future and would have matching wedding rings)

hhh fallen adam and fallen reader tearing my hair out (lovingly) this is the inspo for adams look! EDIT: I GOT THE ARTIST!!!! ARTIST IS SCOUT_ISH IN TWT!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH HUNTERS-TRASHBLOG FOR TELLING ME!!!! also reader will be slightly thicker/implied to be chubby!! but other than that, everything is kept ambigous so you can imagine yourself!! adam 4 the chubbies teehee

Bewitched | Adam x Fem! Reader

Relationship: Romantic Warnings: None!

Adam grimaced as he looked at himself through a broken piece of mirror. Long gone was the golden halo, now replaced with horns that mimicked his exorcist horns. His handsome face was no longer human, now looking like his mask. When he first arrived, he thought it was one, and tried with all his might to remove it, his face being a different color than his maroon body. The realization that this was his body now dawned upon him in the moments afterward. He turned to look at his back, knowing that under his shirt were stubs, stubs where his once golden wings were. Instead of wings, he had a tail, similar in color to the rest of his body. Overall, Adam hated his new look.

He knew that no matter how much he looked at himself or avoided his gaze, he would still look the same. The truth of his reality that he kept running from, he was the very thing that he hated, he hunted, he killed. He was now a sinner. Fallen from grace, no longer in favor of the heavens. Truly left with no hope of ever being in God's good graces. This was the harshest truth Adam had ever faced, and it hurt more than his fall and even more than his wives leaving him. He didn’t know how to comprehend it at first, all his death, which was far longer than his life, he had only ever known Heaven.

He didn’t know what to do with his afterlife now. Not to say he was put together in Heaven, but after his divorce from Eve things never really improved; But now that he was in the same place as the people he saw below him? That fact alone wasn’t making things better. His first few days in Hell were spent with him licking his wounds, and gathering his thoughts. Adam couldn’t keep to himself forever, returning to the same alleyway that he was calling his temporary home. But where would he go? He knew he wouldn’t survive this place, especially if the sinners found out he was the one who led the exterminations. Which led him to the one place he had been avoiding since his fall.

The Hazbin Hotel.

He couldn’t return after he was the reason why the place was destroyed and why they no longer had a friend. But nowhere else was safe enough for him to run to. He was snapped out of his thoughts at a can being kicked. He turned to the sound and saw you.

Adam felt his breath catch as his heart stopped. The mere sight of you made it seem like he was back at heaven gate, that warm feeling of the sun against his skin as angels sang him his welcome. You glowed in a place that seemed to thrive on the depravity and sin of humans. Your natural hair framed your face in a way that he felt that if there was a halo, you would be otherworldly. You were full in all the right places, with the tummy to show it was real. You were dressed pretty modestly, which was odd in a place of debauchery, but not too much to seem like a prude. Your eyes were warm, with golden specks in them, almost as if you were from heaven. Once Adam realized that he was ogling a sinner, he snapped back and tried to glare at you.

“What do you want?” He snarls. He sees that you flinch back, and at that moment he begins to soften but keeps his tone. You look him over, and no matter what he tells himself, he knows that you aren’t doing it to be judgy. You have this look of concern on your face as you take in his form. He scoots back away from you, unsure why you are staring at him as you are.

“How long ago did you fall?” You ask, catching him off guard. Questions begin to swirl in his mind as he looks at you dumbly. How did you know he was from heaven? Did you see the battle? Did you know who he was? How did you know he fell? Thoughts swirling in his head, Adam couldn’t even ask you all of them. “Ah, it must have just happened. Sorry, didn’t mean to scratch at a new wound.”

“How did you know?” was all Adam could ask. You give him a small smile before you turn. With you back to Adam, he takes a brief moment to look at your ass before looking at what you were showing him. It was a pair of wings, with some stubs under your main pair. Adam’s breath hitches as he sees that the stubs are healed as if they had been that way for years. Knowing that he got his answer, you turn back around and give him a sad smile. Now new questions form in his head, starting with what you asked him. “How long ago did you fall?”

“Hm…A long time ago.” You say, shifting slightly as your wings retract. Adam nods as he takes in that he wouldn’t be the second-ever angel to fall. It made him feel less alone and relieved that he didn’t have to relate to Lucifer on something. You clear your throat causing him to look at you. “You don’t seem to have a place to stay…looking at the sight of this…alleyway. I could take you somewhere.”

You reach out your hand for him to take, which he does. You lead him somewhere as you both make idle chatter. Throughout the walk, Adam couldn’t scratch the feeling that he knew you. This strange feeling of deja vu washed over him as he tried to realize where he knew you from.

Unbeknownst to him, you knew exactly who he was. He was the first man and the first ever to enter heaven. You never got to meet him, having fallen by the time of his death for covering for Lillith and Lucifer. A part of you felt guilty, having hidden the first-ever affair. However, you wouldn’t trade it for the chance to stay in Heaven, knowing that you would get your niece Charlie. Not hiding the fact that it still haunted you, you saw this opportunity as a way to amends for hiding the betrayal. As you led him to the Hotel, you couldn’t think of how you would one day tell him how you knew him, however, you decided to focus on getting back on his feet.

You talked about how hell is, not aware of Adam behind you slowing down. You felt his hand leaving your own, look behind you, and see him with this look you cannot describe. He was looking down at your hand and then his own. You walk towards him and wave your hand in front of him, causing him to lift his head to look at yours.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concerned. He doesn’t say anything as he nods.

“Yeah…sorry. Thought I saw something. You were saying?” He says, shaking his head and grabbing your hand. You flush and turn away, before continuing to talk and lead him to the Hotel.

What Adam had sworn he had seen was the formation of a little red string going pure white before disappearing.

In the OG writing reader was going to be in lvoe with adam alr but it didn't make sense so i scrapped it teehee

#hazbin hotel x reader #Hazbin Hotel Adam x reader #adam x reader #☾adoniswrites #anon ask #anon request

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xoxoavenger · 5 months

Text

So Scarlet (It Was Maroon)

pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N likes to romanticize her relationship with Luke, much to the anger of everyone around her. Percy wants to remind her of the rose colored glasses, he just doesn't know how.

word count: 3076

warnings: some angst

part 1 part 3

birthday celebration main masterlist

Y/N may be going crazy.

At least, that's what everyone thinks is going on. But they would never say that to her face. Not because they're scared of her, but they are scared of what Percy will do will if he caught them. For some reason, Percy had adopted her as his older sister and even though Luke had tried to kill him, he felt bad for Y/N. He had watched as Luke brought the sword down on her head, watched Y/N's heart break as she poured herself out to him. He knew she must be in pain, must be hurting. The wound was still fresh, having only taken place a couple weeks ago.

But she was driving him insane with all her memories, and he was going to explode soon.

She didn't always say it out loud, didn't always reminisce with everyone, but they all knew what was going on. Today she had decided to tell them, since it was just him and two of her siblings in the stables, and Percy has been reminding himself all day that not only is Y/N a woman but also a counselor, so if he punches her he'll just cause more problems. Oh, and she's in pain already, another good reason not to punch her.

"One time," Y/N starts, and Percy has to clench his teeth to keep the sigh back. He'll punch anyone else who sighs, though. They're in the stables, cleaning up with Silena and her other sister Allegra. "Luke and I snuck out to the stables and spent the night here." She's smiling as she says it, and Percy steals a look over at Silena. She's pursing her mouth and raking, so Percy decides he shouldn't say anything either.

"Don't you have hay fever?" Allegra tries to remind her, but it's like Y/N can't hear her. It's probably for the better, to just let her finish this story and they can all get on with their lives.

"The cleaning harpies don't come in here, so they didn't bug us, and none of the campers wanted to come out here either that late. It was one of those nights when the Northern Lights were visible - that's only happened once in all the time that we've been at camp." Y/N is still working on cleaning, and Percy wants to rake his eyes out.

"Did you freeze your ass off?" He snarks, not able to keep his mouth shut. She turns to him, snapping her head. He feels bad, but he could not stand her talking about Luke any longer.

"It was last September at Camp Half-Blood. The weather was great." She snarks, but she's clearly gotten the memo to shut the fuck up about Luke. Percy freezes, because he thought this was recently.

"Last summer?" He mutters, pausing his work. He and Annabeth were the only two that knew Y/N and Luke weren't actually dating; they weren't sworn to secrecy but they both knew it would be better if no one else found out. But according to Annabeth, they had only been dating a couple months when Percy showed up, so why was she talking about something that happened before they were dating.

"You spent the night with him before this summer?" Silena has also paused her work, but Y/N doesn't look at any of them, just keeps working.

"Spent the night? What are you talking about?" Percy feels so lost and he hates that feeling.

"You didn't hear?" Allegra asks, and now she's not working either. "For the past month, Luke was sneaking into the cabin to sleep with Y/N."

"Yeah, and she hasn't slept since." Y/N throws her rake down, stomping out of the stables, clearly angry. The other three watch as she leaves, her hand coming up to wipe her tears.

"Maybe because she has a head injury from the bottom of Backbiter." Percy snaps, going back to his work.

"Thank God we don't have to worry about Luke sneaking in anymore." Allegra mutters, and Percy tries to take a deep breath because he's not Y/N's sibling and he just made fun of her.

"She's not sleeping, so it's not a great solution anyway." Percy settles on, ignoring Silena's side eye.

"What do you think will happen after Camp?" Luke muttered into her hair. They're laying on a blanket on the beach, Luke's arm around her shoulders so she had a nice pillow for her head. She was holding his hand, rubbing her thumb up and down his skin.

"After camp?" She mutters, the setting sun and the warmth from summer making her tired. She ships to lay more against his chest, letting go of his hand as he moves it down to her waist.

"Yeah. We have to leave eventually." Luke tells her, rubbing his fingers up and down her arm. She throws her own over him, lazily rubbing circles around his clothed ribs. This is supposed to be for show, but she's not sure who's looking.

"I don't like thinking about that." Y/N sighs, frowning. She doesn't know what to do without Camp; sure, she's done schoolwork, she knows more than most high schoolers do, all thanks to Chiron's rigorous classes. Because there weren't many people during the school year, they would trade off days of actual teaching and free days of homework. She really didn't want to go to college or get an actual job.

"We have to leave at some point." Luke tells her, and she shutters.

"Can we talk about something else?" She asks, opening her eyes into the sun and looking into him.

"Sure." He can tell it's agitating her, so he shuffles a little and closes his eyes as looks up at the sky. "What's your favorite flower?"

"Lavender roses." She answers quickly. She waits for a second, knowing Luke will ask another question. "You don't remember the rose class I taught you?" She smirks. A couple weeks ago while they had overseen arts and crafts she had been painting roses. Luke hadn't even known there was different colored roses, and being the daughter of Aphrodite she had taught him all about each meaning.

"Red is love," He names off, and she nods against him. "Yellow is friendship. White is innocence." He pauses, and she knows that he has just named off the easy ones that he knows.

"Alright, so purple is different than lavender, remember that? Purple is still pretty, it's passion and infatuation. But lavender is unique love." She's smiling at the thought of someone giving her these roses, of Luke giving her these roses.

"Unique love." Luke repeats, nodding his head. "I'll remember that." He tells her, but she shakes her head.

"You will? Because I already told you once and you didn't remember." She giggles. He shakes her, moving so both his arms around her now. She shifts to be more comfortable, and she's sure she could fall asleep.

"No, I'll remember this time." He kisses her head, and she once again wonders if there's someone around or if he's doing this for her.

She wonders if there will ever be a day when she doesn't have to ask that question.

She wakes up, in the middle of a deep breath. Her heart is racing, and she has to remind herself with a reach of her hand that Luke left. He's gone now, and he's not coming back. He clearly didn't want to take her with him, and if she would have even gone is another question she doesn't know the answer to.

She gets up and puts on a sweatshirt, a camp one that's Luke's but no one will know it's Luke's. She takes a deep breath, trying not to cry over the fact that the sweatshirt is starting to lose his scent. It's the last thing she has of his, not wanting to take anything from his siblings and cause a scene. She's just lucky Annabeth and Percy didn't tell anyone that it was all fake.

Her mother hasn't been back to visit, and she's not sure if it's a good or bad thing. She doesn't want to talk to the goddess, knowing that all the conversation will accomplish was Y/N's embarrassment and making her even more upset than she already was. What was the point of talking to her mom when she knew that something was going on with Luke? She had to know that they lied, had to know that it was fake.

Yeah, it was probably good her mom hadn't come to visit.

She was wearing nice slippers, so she didn't walk to the beach. Instead she walked to the fields where the flowers grew. It was cool, not cold and not as dewy as a normal morning but still wet. She stood in the field a slight breeze making her shiver slightly.

"What are you doing?"

She turned quickly, heart beating fast. Her mother was standing in the field, somehow glowing even though the sun hadn't risen. Y/N didn't know what time it was, but the sky was still dark, so she knew it was early.

"Do not disrespect me right now, Y/N." Her mother snaps, and Y/N's eyes widen. She hasn't even said anything and her mother is already mad at her. "What are you doing out here?"

"I couldn't sleep." She answers. Aphrodite makes a face, and Y/N doesn't know what she said wrong but clearly she said something wrong.

"If this is about the son of Hermes," Her mother turns her head, as if in disgust, and Y/N sighs.

"I thought you liked tragic love stories." She says it without thinking, as if her mom were a normal person. As if her mom weren't a goddess.

"This wasn't a love story at all!" Aphrodite yells, and Y/N shrinks back. She looks away, trying to keep the quick rising tears back.

"It was to me." She whispers. She can't help it; everyone seems to forget that she was in love with Luke, that he broke her heart and she can't just snap back from that. Her mother's words cut deeper than a knife, slicing her heart open.

"What?" Her mom asks, not expecting this much talkback. No one says these things to gods, even if the gods are their parents. Especially to Aphrodite. Her children generally praise her.

"I was in love!" She screams, not caring if she wakes everyone up. Her mother started this, and she will finish it. It's all her mom's fault anyway; if she hadn't had the stupid rule for her children, none of this would have happened. "It was a love story because I was in love. It doesn't matter what it started out as or that it ended with my heart broken instead of his. I'm sorry I let you down. Is that what you want to hear?" She's breathing heavily, staring at her mom. Aphrodite might as well be a statue with how frozen she is, and Y/N thinks her own mother is going to kill her right now.

It might just be worth it to have gotten that off her chest.

"Who do you think you are?" Aphrodite whispers lowly, moving closer to Y/N. She tries not to shrink back, but it's hard. She's not afraid, but for a moment she thinks of Luke. The thought of never seeing him again, not having the chance if she dies right here. She closes her eyes, but everything goes still. After a moment, she opens them to see her mom looking down at her with concern and some unreadable emotion. "Why did you lie to me?" Her mom surprises her with that question.

"I didn't think someone could fall in love with me in four months." She says quietly, looking down at the ground. She pulls the sleeves of Luke's sweatshirt over her hands. "And the thought of breaking some innocent guy's heart? I mean, it's a little outdated, Mom." She tries to joke, but Aphrodite just stares.

"He was in love with you." The goddess says, causing Y/N to shake her head. "Really, you're gonna go against me? Your mother, a goddess?" Y/N gives a small smile.

"He left." She says, voice cracking with emotion. She shakes her head again, wiping her face. She doesn't know when the tears fell, but her face is wet. "I should get back to my cabin. Thanks for," Y/N doesn't know why Aphrodite came to Camp Half-Blood, why she visited in person, and she honestly isn't sure she appreciates it. But she walks past her mom, leaving the goddess behind her in the field.

"Don't give up hope yet." Y/N's not sure what her mom means by that, but she doesn't turn around, knowing her mom is going to turn into her true form to leave. The gold light washes over her, and all she can think about is if her mom meant on Luke or on love.

"My mom visited me this morning." Y/N says to Percy as they get their food. Traditionally, campers were supposed to get their meals and eat at specific tables with their cabin members only, but Percy didn't have any and Y/N was lonely, so she had got Mr. D to allow them to eat together. Chiron wasn't thrilled when he found out, being a stickler for the rules, but they all knew he wouldn't police where they ate. They settled for a couple stares across the pavilion every day during meals.

"In person?" Percy asks, grabbing a premade sandwich from the tray. Y/N had told him all about her mother's visits when they had first gotten close, so Percy knew how rare and scary an in person visit was.

"Yeah. I don't know why she came, but I got the feeling I had embarrassed her with Luke." Percy bit back a groan. He hated talking about Luke, but it seemed to be Y/N's favorite thing. He felt bad enough that he couldn't tell her to shut up (yet), but it was getting on his nerves.

"What'd she say?" Percy asks as they head to their table, the only completely empty one beside the Zeus table.

"She told me it wasn't a love story, so I yelled at her. I mean, who does she think she is?" She complains, setting her food down across from him. He feels his heart rate spike as he struggles to reign himself in.

"Do you think maybe she was trying to protect you?" He asks, not even able to take a bite of his food yet. He's not sure why he's trying to get Y/N to see the error in her thinking, when she seems to just get more delusional as time goes on.

"From what?" Y/N scoffs, tensing. Percy can tell this is going to be a fight.

"Luke," He says, as if it's obvious. Y/N squints and shakes her head.

"Why would she need to protect me from Luke?" She asks, leaning back. "I mean, when we were dating, he-"

"It wasn't real!" Percy screams, getting everyone's attention. He didn't want to do this here, but he can't take it anymore. It's like she's somehow convinced herself that their relationship was perfect. She's made Luke into a different person in her mind. Or maybe Percy just thinks he's a villain because he tried to kill him and is trying to overthrow the gods, but that's more solid reasoning in his mind than Y/N's.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Y/N warns lowly, not wanting a scene. Her cheeks are flush, because there's no way no one is going to know after this. Everyone will know.

"I was there, Y/N. He tried to kill me. He tried to kill you!" He argues, and watches as Y/N takes a deep breath. He had watched Luke grab her, watched him hit her with the bottom of his sword and let her fall to the ground. He had stood there in fear as Luke stepped over her lifeless body. That isn't love; it can't be love. He has to get it into her head, but he doesn't think even this will.

"I was there too, Percy. And my mom told me that his heart was broken. I'll believe the feelings more than I believe a couple words from a broken heart." She gets up, leaving her plate untouched, and walks out of the pavilion. Percy watches her, along with every single other camper who has stopped what they're doing to watch the fight ensue. He looks over to Annabeth, who is looking at him with a frown. He hangs his head, knowing he messed up.

Percy takes a deep breath and gets up to go find Y/N and apologize, but Annabeth is suddenly at his side, hand on his shoulder.

"Let her have some time. That was a lot. I'm sure she'd like to be alone." She says it with a smile, but Percy knows it's his fault and he knows Annabeth blames him too.

"I'm sorry." He mutters, putting his head into his hands.

"I know you are." She tells him, sitting on the bench but not removing her hand. "But she needs time. It was a lot to process." And her mom probably didn't help either, Percy thought, but he didn't want to tell Annabeth about it. He couldn't betray Y/N like that.

"Hopefully she'll be okay." Percy sighs, watching Y/N disappear into the woods.

"She will." Annabeth squeezes his shoulder and then moves to her own table, leaving him alone.

He wishes he had more patience, but he was not known for his patience. It would be fine. He'd apologize when Y/N came back, and he'd have a conversation about not bringing Luke up at every moment.

It would be fine.

Meanwhile, Y/N was stomping through the woods. She knew she was annoying, that everyone was tired of her talking about Luke, but she never expected Percy of all people to get angry with her. She definitely didn't expect him to call her out in front of all the campers.

She was deep in her thoughts when she heard a crack in front of her. Her heart dropped, because even in the middle of the day she was still scared. She had been looking down when she was walking, angry and making sure she wasn't going to trip or step on anything.

When she looks up he's there, holding lavender carnations. Everything stops, her stomach dropping and heart in her throat. She doesn't want to believe her eyes, but then he steps forward.

"They didn't have any roses."

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler (also thanks to the comments from @jadahxx and @commanderfreethatdust who commented on the last fic asking for a part 2 sorry its angst <3)

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader fluff and angst #luke castellan x reader angst

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