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farfromstrange · 2 days ago

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Fictober Day 24 & 26: Against A Wall/Exhibitionism

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Against A Wall/Exhibitionism(✨)

Summary: You and Matt can't wait to have each other.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Matt, public sex, slight exhibitionism (the window is open, and someone’s behind the door, but no one actively watches; it’s mentioned to be a turn-on though), wall sex, established relationship, use of "good girl", unprotected p in v, no foreplay, not proofread

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: This was originally going to be two separate fics, but I decided to put them together because it works best like this. I didn't want to duplicate the plot, so I just merged them.

Read Me On AO3! (Coming soon)

The bar is bustling around you, but he is the only thing you can focus on.

His tight jaw, the beard that used to be only a stubble a mere week ago, those hazel eyes hiding behind his red glasses that reflect the neon lights of the many signs Josie has hanging around the place—he looks sinful like this, and you want nothing more than to get on your knees and suck the life out of his cock.

The condensation from his beer bottle trickles down the back of his hand. Your pussy has memorized the feeling of those thick fingers inside you, your neck yearning to feel them wrapped around your pulse point until you forget how to breathe.

He’s been wound up for weeks. It is rather selfish of you to think that it’s hot when he’s like this, but you can’t help it; this man does unspeakable things to you even when he’s not touching you.

They won their case today—he and Foggy. He should be enthusiastic, but the tension in his shoulders has yet to fade. He would have said no to his best friend’s offer to get drinks, too, if you hadn’t said yes before he could form a coherent thought.

He needs you. And you need him, too. He can smell the slick soaking through your lace panties. He can hear your walls clench around nothing as you cross your legs for some friction, and your heart starts to beat faster every time you look at him.

He knows you are praying to a God you don’t believe in, praying for his hands on you, praying that he will fuck you hard and fast and soon because if he doesn’t, you will lose your mind.

The glass almost shatters against the table when he sets it down more forcefully than intended. “I, uh, have to use the bathroom,” he says.

You look up at him. He tilts his head in your direction. As he gets up, his hand brushes over your thigh. It is only a breath, but the contact shoots straight to your weeping core.

Oh.

“Excuse me,” and with his cane clutched tightly, he makes his way through the crowd.

You empty your glass in one big gulp, giving your friends a strained smile. “I better make sure he gets there,” you say.

“You really think Matt’s gonna get lost?” Foggy retorts with a laugh. “Matt? Come on. Guy’s like a bat.”

You shrug. “Better safe than sorry.”

You can’t wait for another second. Paving your way through the crowd, you make your way to where the bathrooms are.

Only one of the doors is ajar, which you take as your cue to slip in and lock it behind you. For a moment, you wonder if this is even a good idea; people might need this bathroom, but then your back hits the wall, and one look at Matt is enough for you to throw caution to the fucking wind.

“I missed you,” Matt growls, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You melt under the force of his fire. Greedy hands tear at your dress. Teeth clash in a fight for dominance. No fabric on your body is safe, his hands too eager, too desperate to care about your appearance. If you have to walk around with his cum dripping down your thighs because your panties are too ripped to cover your swollen cunt after this, he will gladly take it. He will take it for just a chance to have you.

“Jump,” he says, and you’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist as he hoists you up. “You know how much I love to hear you moan, but I need you to be quiet this time. Can you do that?”

Your moan comes in the form of a strangled breath, getting caught on your sealed lips before it can escape.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you choke out.

“Good girl.”

No matter how badly you think he needs you, it is worse. Much worse. His nerves are alight with a near animalistic craving beyond rational thought or reason. His need for you is branded forever into his weary bones, and they continue to ache until he finally has you right where he wants you.

Until he can finally thrust his cock into your tight pussy and listen to the way your walls grip him so tightly.

Until he can finally swallow your moans with the force of his lips.

Until he can drown in the force of your orgasm like a man stuck in the desert for too long.

Matt unbuckles his belt, freeing his aching cock from the confines of his underwear. Your panties are a long-forgotten afterthought. He pushes the lace aside with two fingers, exposing you to the cold air streaming in from the open window.

“Need you,” he grunts.

You’re so wet to the touch.

You gasp when his tip bumps against your clit. He misses once, then twice again. His impatience is written into the crease between his brows. Beyond frustrated, you reach for his cock, sliding the thick head between your folds.

This stoic, assertive force of a man you wanted to maul in the courtroom earlier as the jury gave their verdict of ‘not guilty’ has never looked more like a pathetic mess than he does in the flickering light of the bar bathroom.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust. Matt pushes his hips into yours, burying his cock in your cunt, and the wall almost caves in behind you. The force at which he pounds into you threatens to split your skull open, but oh, you have never felt more alive.

His face is buried in your neck. You’re all there is. The ghastly smell, the noise, the vibrations of the old water lines, he tunes it all out. His senses zero in on you, the sole object of all his desires. Now that he doesn’t have to focus on anything but you, he can finally breathe again. He can smell your perfume, taste the salt of your sweat trickling down your neck; you consume him.

Matt thrusts into you for just a little more of this intoxicating feeling—the way you’re clenching around him, and how your heart races for him. He aims his cock toward the spot that makes your toes curl in your heels, and he knows before you even feel it.

A cry threatens to break free from your soul. Matt clasps his hand over your swollen lips to silence you. You choke on it, rumbling like thunder in your chest.

It takes everything in you not to scream anyway. Not to moan. Not to cry out how good he feels. Right there, you want to say. Right there, don’t fucking stop. He drags his cock in and out of your pussy, though he never really pulls all the way out before he’s lost himself in you again.

The doorhandle rattles. He doesn’t stop.

You whimper. “Matthew…”

“Shh,” Matt coos.

Another rattle. “Is someone in there?” someone asks from the other side.

You look at the door, but before you can tell him to stop—stop because you don’t want anyone seeing you this way—his cock brushes against your G-spot. Your eyes roll back into your skull. Your words melt like candle wax on your tongue.

He pulls you down to meet him, your clit dragging deliciously over his skin. You’re losing it.

Only a few inches away, a stranger is trying to get into the bathroom, waiting, and it only spurs him on.

You bite into his palm.

You are so close, and even if someone were to break down this stupid door, you would probably still fall apart. Because the thought of getting caught being fucked so perfectly by the man of your dreams turns you on more than it should.

He puts his lips to your ear. “Ignore them,” he says. “Focus on me.”

Your walls clamp around his cock.

“Good girl. I want you to come for me. Can you do that?”

He thrusts harder. Faster. Deeper. Deeper.

You can’t stop yourself from moaning his name as the wave crashes into you, and Matt does the only thing he can think of that won’t give you away; he captures your lips in a bruising kiss that splits your bottom lip in two.

He drinks your blood like a vampire, drowning out his own grunt as his hips stutter and he spills into you. You’ve missed him so much.

Your orgasm has barely subsided when he pulls out of you, placing you back on your own two feet. The world is spinning.

“Wh–” you stutter.

He shushes you, index finger against your lips as he pulls your panties back on. His cum trickles out of your pussy into the fabric. You can still feel him so deep inside you.

“We’re going home,” he says.

“But–”

“I’m not done with you. We’re gonna take a cab,” he cups your face, “I’m gonna take you home, and I’m not gonna stop touching you until you’re covered in my cum.”

Your knees buckle.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe.

He has the audacity to look smug about it. “That’s my girl.”

Walking through Josie’s stuffed to the brim with his cum is a strangely erotic thought, but you know that the night has only just begun, and by the time he is done with you, you won’t even be able to remember your name.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock smut #daredevil #lizzi's fictober 2024 #charlie cox

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shygirl4991 · 2 days ago

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Faker

Im going through a hard time this month with my cats health so thought i do a random vent fic enjoy.

Summary: They fake to make it, they both are lonely losers that manage to make the best of it. Sometimes a vent fight helps them find some peace from their trauma. Tag: Trauma bonding, crush hinted, SMG34, the gays are fighting

SMG4 yawns as he gets out of bed, the morning light shines hitting the man in the eyes. He squints as he closes the curtains, for once SMG4 got to bed at a decent time. With a proud smile the guardian leaves his room to get breakfast together, that's when he notices a purple blur pass by his window. He turns and sees a depressed looking SMG3, concerned for his partner he runs to his bedroom to put on his iconic overalls before heading to Three’s coffee n bombs. As he approaches the cafe, he catches SMG3 sitting at a table outside. With a bright smile Four greets the man “Hey three! How is everything going?” Three sighs as he glares at SMG4 “What do you want SMG4?” he spat out making SMG4 take a step back. It was clear as day that Three was not having a good day, he looked around and noticed not a single customer showed up. Frowning, Four nervously points it out “Still not having luck?” Three growls getting up from his seat “WHY DO YOU CARE?” The anger and hatred that came out made Four’s eyes go wide.

He then lets out a sigh as he keeps talking to Three with a cheerful tone “We are friends Three, of course i would worry. Is there any way I can help you?” Three rolls his eyes walking to his cafe door “Why? To show you're better than me?” Four shakes his head “No! Come on Three, we make a great team don't we…there is no need to push me away.” Three’s grip on the door handle tightens, every night since the usb garbage incident he has been haunted by an image of SMG4. He grins down at Three calling him pathetic, that he is nothing but a faker acting tough when he is nothing but a softy at heart. His grip lightens as he wonders if that version of Four had a point, shaking his head he pulls the door open. Seeing this Four runs after him, he grabs Three’s hand in concern “Three what is going on with you?”

Three turns smacking Four’s hand away “What's wrong? Everything I do fails! No matter how hard I try to entertain people, everyone sees my content as cringe. I make the cafe of my dreams and no one comes due to…the owner being unlikable.” Four reaches out to comfort Three only for the other man to walk away from it, Four looks down thinking before giving the man a small smile “You have done successful things, you're super smart and figured out how to out smart so many of the villains we fight! Remember zero, how you pointed out how to save Mario!” Three lets out a bitter laugh “You mean the same monster that killed Terrence, yeah i really got a victory for us there.”

Four starts to get upset at how the guardian kept brushing aside his attempts to comfort him, Three walks behind the counter looking at Four with annoyance. SMG4 walks up to the counter giving SMG3 a desperate “Let me help you out Three,” that got SMG3 to laugh “Help me? How fake can you be, ah yes help with my trauma as you ignore yours!” Four stare’s confused at his partner, Three places a cup in front of Four “You were an asshole to your best friend on his day, you got a keyboard that almost killed us all. Oh yeah, how about using my past against me to get everyone to come to your fucking Christmas party!” SMG4 stares, mouth agape at SMG3 words, slowly he smacks the table causing the cup to jump slightly “oh yeah? YOU ALMOST SHOT ME BECAUSE YOUR OLD VILLAIN FRIEND TOLD YOU TO!” SMG3 growls climbing the counter to be taller than the other man “YOU ALMOST DROP ME FOR THE PERFECT VIDEO!” Four grabs Three’s leg throwing him to the floor causing the cup to fall, shattering, Four was done playing nice with the man that clearly just wanted to fight “YOU THINK NO ONE CAN TELL BUT WE ALL KNOW YOUR THE FAKE!” Hearing those words angered the man, Three kicked Four’s leg causing him to lose balance and join him on the floor. SMG3 pins the man down growling “FAKE! AT LEAST I DON'T PRETEND IM A NICE PERSON THAT CAN DO NOT WRONG!”

They both stay silent staring at each other, breathing heavily after all their yelling. Three lets go of Four as his eyes water “And yet…i still think you're my best friend..” Four sits up surprised to hear Three’s words, thinking over the pair’s past he lets out a small chuckle “Guess in the end, we both suck huh?” Three wipes his eyes giving a small smile “At least you can admit you suck, been telling you for years.” Four playfully smacks Three as they both giggle feeling better after their small fight. Three grabs Four’s hand shyly looking off to the side, hiding his blush “I’m frustrated that things don't go my way, I hate being second place…so I took my anger out on you.” Four smiles and scoots closer to his partner resting his head on the man's shoulder as their fingers intertwine “I forgive you, plus your right…I fake being okay cause it's hard to face all I have done.” Three hums as he turns looking Four in his eyes “Yeah well…we have our ways to cope just remember im always here for you.” They both smile softly at each other forgetting that the cafe was open, Meggy giggles seeing the sight. Meggy and Tari walk away from the cafe with a big smile “I think it's best if we let those to talk out their feelings Tari.”

#smg4 #smg3 #smg34 #shygirl4991 #smg34 fanfiction #vent fic

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plutoswritingplanet · 2 days ago

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Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt. 7

a/n: shout out to my wonderful partner, who had to listen to me rant and rave about this fic.

Warnings: Explicit Smexual Content (we did it guys), Dubious Consent (whoops), Mention of Scars, Smoking, Good Old Fingerblasting, Reader is Still Plus Sized. Cross-Posted on AO3

Summary: And as such, the board is set, and the pawns are in place.

Vicarious Masterlist

The Instagram feed of your private account seems to taunt him, the orange ring around your profile picture almost begging him to tap it. He doesn't particularly care about the Vaught-curated, fake one, that posts smiling pictures of Fireball doing superhero training. He doesn't care about the hairspray commercial, or the short videos of you posing in the recording studio, where they make you sing some pop-rock swivel. He does enjoy the one short clip from an interview, where you praise him like there's no tomorrow, but it's a small flicker of interest in the sea of insignificant blabber.

No. What grabs his attention, what is the only notification he ever gets on his phone, is the private and intimate life of Smirnoff. Hidden under already ten times broken website coding, followed by a rather small group of your friends from different points of your existence. And oh, what an existence it is.

Another day off, once every week, and you've fled the Tower in the early hours of the morning. He can't exactly follow you out, despite wanting to do so, to an almost alarming degree. Homelander doesn't get days off. He doesn't have the luxury of normalcy, because by all means, he's not normal. His eyes follow you like a hawk, from the surveillance point of his penthouse, where he sees your retreating form greet the doorman.

It is quite disconcerting to him, as he takes in the way you interact with insignificant Vaught employees, after a month. The smiles, the borderline servile pleasantries, so unfitting to your role as a superhero, as his god-damned Sidekick. Once, he saw you pick up a note, which flew out of some worm's pile of documents, hand it to them with a bright expression. Like it's the most normal of occurrences, like you should be bending over for anyone other than himself.

He would've intervened. In that small moment, he would've crossed the floors of the Tower, grabbed you by that soft underarm and showed you, exactly, who you should reserve your politeness for. But, he wouldn't interrupt Madelyn's speech, no matter how much he wanted to, he was tied at the moment, and as the day went on, the incident slipped his mind.

Which he sorely regrets, as he peeks out his window, sensing through floors upon floors of noise-filled concrete and metal, that you're back.

He seeks out your newest story with ease, his fingers flying over the touch screen. Your account pops up, like it's done for the past month, the colorful ring around your profile picture calling to him like a siren from mythology he's never bothered to read.

The lights of New York never dim, and as he stands by the window, overlooking the nightlife of the city, he pauses, just for a moment. He wonders if you hate this place too. Not in the same way he does, that's for sure, but he's seen your house, your neighborhood. He's seen the way you flinch, whenever a particularly loud sound from the outside wriggles its way into the Tower. The way your nose scrunches at the fumes in the air, the way your eyebrows jump to your hairline, whenever you see a price tag on the water bottles stuck inside a vending machine. Even if you can afford them, even if you'll be able to afford them long after your contract is terminated.

Honestly, you should be on your knees, thanking him for dragging you into the real world. For taking you away from the insignificant, lazy life of the suburbs. He's also aware, that precisely because you should be grateful, you hate this situation. You're too damned proud, even if you try to conceal it. He's getting good at reading you.

First picture.

You're back at that disgusting, dirty food joint right outside the Tower. He can practically taste the unbearable amounts of sugar in your latte, and he frowns slightly at the whipped cream almost spilling over the sides of the glass. His tongue smacks against his pallet, imagining himself licking the artificial taste out of your mouth, letting the carbonation fizzle on his taste buds, until it turns into liquid, flowing from your lips into his throat.

In a staggering display of self-restraint, he swipes to the next photo.

"What the fuck is that" the black text says, accompanied by a horrified emoji, and he frowns, because honestly, he has no idea. He's looking at a very zoomed in photo of a bug, or... Some other alien creature. He grunts low in his throat and swipes.

There's a three hours gap between the insect photo, and the next one, and he brings the screen closer to his face.

It's a video. A short clip of you, splayed on the floor. Someone else is holding the camera, and despite his best efforts, he can feel a small pang of jealousy crawling up his spine.

Your cheeks are warm with exertion, your chest rising and falling in deep breaths, and he absentmindedly notices a very beaten up dog toy in your hand, traces of saliva still on it, as well as your fingers. A black, wet nose enters the picture, as the person filming zooms in on your face. You sputter, as the dog starts to lick your cheek, and the sound of your laughter fills his penthouse.

That same, rough noise you use around your friends. The loud cackling, that sounds simultaneously like nails on a chalkboard, and the greatest of symphonies. He wonders what he'll have to do, for you to laugh like that around him. He's funny, he knows he can be funny, he's the god-damned Homelander.

He's everything.

Homelander zeroes in on the way your chest shakes under a simple tank top, as your body convulses in bounds of laughter. And then suddenly, he freezes, all the heated, dangerous thoughts slipping out of his brain, as he notices something. He replays the video, once, twice, three times. Zooms in, tilts his head, tries to conjure up a clearer image from the amassing of pixels.

- Oh show me the way to the next whiskey bar - your voice carries through the metal-enforced walls of the tower, cutting through concrete and worming itself right into his ear.

He's standing outside the door to your rooms, his eyes following your form as you glide through the kitchen area, hips swaying under a flowy skirt. It's the same outfit you've worn in the story, and despite himself, Homelander starts to salivate, the muscles of his stomach tightening ever so slightly.

Your singing is, well, to be quite honest, not good. Which could've been anticipated, considering the amounts of auto tune they layered over your voice, in that horrendous song. It was clear you were not a singer, which you've mentioned, extensively, to Stillwell. She ignored it, of course. The small note in your files about taking part in a student rendition of a play twice in your life, and a teeny tiny mention of some band activity, was enough to set her unshakable resolve on truly milking the "rockstar" persona.

Still, it doesn't stop you from belting out the refrain like you're part of the band, your body swaying, as you hug the pillar of your kitchen area in a dramatic display.

- Oh moon of Alabama, we now must say goodbye...

He watches like a hawk, through concrete and metal, his eyes burning at the corners, as he tries so hard to catch that elusive thing. That small flicker he's sure he's seen on his screen, just minutes ago, but to no avail. And he has to know. Why, he's not sure himself, but the need to make sure, to uncover another layer of your being is too strong to ignore, and with a huff of frustrated air, he finally makes up his mind.

The hard, demanding knock on your door startles you from your impromptu, private performance. Bare feet pad on the carpet, as you rush to the stereo system, turning the music down, before skipping towards the entrance to your room, curiosity and just a flicker of anxiety mixing within your gut.

By all means, today is the one day you shouldn't be disturbed, so whoever this was, must have a pretty important reason to stop by your anything but humble abode.

- Yeah? - that's the only word that you manage to say, as you open the door, before a flash of blue enters your vision.

You barely have the time to realize, who exactly is standing in front of you, before a gloved hand darts out in your direction, fingers gripping the cleavage of your top tightly. A strangled sound of surprise and outrage escapes your throat, as blonde mass of hair invades your vision.

Homelander kicks the door closed, as his hands tug mercilessly on the fabric of your shirt. Your arms flail in the air, before you have half the mind to grab his wrists, sputtering wildly, as you try (and fail) to free yourself from his hold.

- What the fuck are you doing? - your voice comes just a bit more on the panicked side, and you mentally scold yourself.

He doesn't seem to notice this slip-up, too occupied with whatever he's hoping to find in your bra. Your face burns red against your better judgement, as his free hand wrenches itself in between your breasts, all but scooping your flesh to the sides, until your sternum is more visible.

Finally, he blinks, freezing in his place, blue eyes staring at your skin so intensely, you're convinced he's going to burn another hole through you.

- What is that? - he asks, voice low and more dangerous, than you've ever heard up until this point.

You frown, confusion written clearly on your face, and in response, he jabs his gloved, red finger right at the center of your chest, your body swaying slightly from the impact.

- This. What the fuck is this? - he repeats, a note of impatience sneaking into his tone, and you tug your chin as far down as it can go, struggling to see, what exactly he's pointing at.

And then, like a flicker of genius, your mind catches up. With a huff of frustration, you finally take a sharp step back, letting the material of your top tear, a scrap of sad fabric dangling from his hand, as you throw him a look, that borders on annoyance.

- It's a scar - you try to keep your voice indifferent, try to deny him the satisfaction of your reaction, but goddamn, this is your day off, and he's acting insane.

He looks utterly out of place inside your room, although you can't imagine anyone, except maybe Ozzy Osbourne in his prime, fitting into this strange jumble of rock paraphernalia. You barely fit in here yourself, with your sweaters, and tops, and flowy skirts that flutter around your ankles. Still, seeing him here, in your space, fills you with a sense of discomfort. This is supposed to be your safe house, your one hiding spot in the hell site that is the Vaught Tower. A naive way of thinking, considering the man you wanted to hide from the most, could see and hear through walls, but still, you'll take an illusion if you can't have the real thing.

Homelander blinks a couple of times, you can see the muscles of his jaw moving under his skin in a way, you've come to recognize. He's thinking. It's never good when he's thinking. Your first month as his glorified sidekick is coming to an end, and you already know, nothing good, nothing kind, will ever come out of that brain of his.

- You... - his eyes flicker over your entire figure, from head to toe - Scar?

The note of incredulity in his voice makes you sigh, and you tug the torn fabric of your top upwards, just to try and shield yourself from his gaze. Slowly, he notices the scrap from your shirt still in his hand, and as he looks down at it, his fingers run absentmindedly over the fabric, the frayed ends sticking out. Your eyebrow twitches, when he pockets the material, but you decide not to comment. Not while you're still uncertain of his, well, everything at the moment.

- Of course I scar - you say slowly, trying to keep your voice calm - You burned a hole through me, remember?

Finally, that seems to snap him from whatever daze he's been in, and he regards you fully with a sharp jerk of his head.

- You said you heal faster - he points out, and you can see, the way his legs twitch, as if he's undecided whether he wants to close the distance between the both of you.

- Scars are a part of the healing process - you tell him, words sounding a bit rehearsed, a bit too much like a doctor reciting the same phrase to every patient.

The Doors continue to play, quietly cutting through the air, mixing with the sound of your quickened breathing. Somehow the once comforting music starts to feel more and more like a soundtrack from a horror movie.

You can't stand in place anymore, a nervous sort of buzzing entering your system like a tsunami wave, and against your every instinct, you turn your back to the predator inside your safehouse. Feet padding over the carpet, you find yourself at the window, cracking it open, and letting the cool, fumes-filled air of New York into the room. He's not even trying to be stealthy, as he comes closer, and when you turn to face him, you're met with a myriad of conflicting emotions running through his expression.

A childish sort of giddiness, at the prospect of marking your skin, of carving himself into the very essence of your flesh. And a deep disdain for such ordinary show of weakness, of humanity. You don't like either of the options, and your hands reach for the half-smoked pack of cigarettes at the nearby table.

- So you knew, you'll scar - he starts, his eyebrows raising - And you didn't think to mention it?

It wouldn't change a thing, and the both of you know it. You fish out a lighter out of your pocket.

- And you shot yourself in the fucking stomach - he continues, his tone growing lighter, like he doesn't believe the very real events, that transpired between the two of you - You can't be that stupid, I've seen a college mention somewhere in your files.

That makes you huff, as you take out one of the cigarettes with practiced ease, placing it between your lips, while looking at him utterly unamused.

- For English literature, not... - your hand flails in the air - Whatever... Borderline abusive, work interactions.

He scoffs at the statement, like it's a joke. Like you're not forced to second guess every little action around him. The lighter flicks to light, and suddenly his mouth splits into a smirk. Sharpened canines flash at you, a small shiver coils itself at the base of your spine.

- You know what they say about nerdy girls, right? - he quips, voice lowering into a strange sort of rumble, that would perhaps sound seductive, if it weren't him.

- I can guarantee you, I've heard every version of this...

- They don't know how to smoke - he cuts you off, jutting his chin out slightly in your direction, making you finally look down at what you're actually doing.

The cigarette is on fire. Literally.

You've lit the wrong end, and your nostrils fill with a biting scent of burning plastic, as the filter melts in the heat.

You sputter, free hand waving in the air in quickness, and the small, burning stick flies out of your mouth, and shoots across the room, until it hits the sink in your small kitchen area. Homelander's eyes crinkle at the sides, as he takes in that small display of your power. You run after it to the sound of Homelander's rumbling laughter, too mocking to laugh with him. Fortunately, you manage to drown the burning end in water, before the smoke detector goes off, and for a moment, you allow yourself to stand there, leaning heavily on the counter, watching the cigarette swim.

He slides into your kitchen like it's his playpen, towering over you with a smug expression, and you have to bite your lip, because fuck. That was, perhaps, actually funny.

And in the warm light, he looks less like your nightmare, and more like an all-american boy, you could've met at a college party. A shuddering breath leaves you, much too close to a laugh, and his lips pull back even more, into a boyish sort of a smile, that just barely makes your stomach flutter.

- Yeah... Okay - you concede, giving up ever so slightly in this strange situation, and you try to suppress another shiver, as his blue eyes suddenly seem much too sharp.

And then, he crosses his arms in front of his chest, the padding on his suit making his chest look almost ridiculously puffy, as he takes a deep breath, looking away from you in a manner that might be mistaken as, god forbid, shy.

- So - he starts, immediately putting you on high alert, even if there's a flicker of curiosity brewing inside your gut - How was your day off?

You blink up at him confused, before realizing, that he doesn't really care. His shoulders sag slightly, already bored with the conversation he started himself. And you want him out of here, so you mirror his stance, crossing your arms, and take a long breath.

- Good. - you attempt, and fail, to sound casual - I've been to....

The rest of the sentence is cut off by your strangled gasp, as your chin suddenly gets pushed up by a gloved hand. And then it's tongue, teeth and a whisper of lips, all but attacking you, poking, probing, demanding entry. Your arms flail once again, your nails dragging over the marble countertop, over the geometric patterns of his suit.

Homelander all but crushes your body against the kitchen counter, one of his hands coming up, roughly palming at your breast, fingers sinking into the soft material of the bra cup, into the even softer flesh. He drags the material down, until you spill out into his palm.

Is this the Maybe you've been thinking about? It doesn't feel like a Maybe.

Your mind races between all the possible exits from this situation, every single one falling short, when he finally grows tired of the barrier of your teeth. His other hand grabs your jaw tightly, pressing on the tissue until your mouth falls open on instinct. Like a fucking dog, that's being tricked into swallowing a tablet, his tongue slides into your mouth.

He groans, deep within his chest, as if this is some moment of immense relief, and you're stuck in limbo, undecided between gagging and reciprocating the kiss. Both options seem as likely, and that thought terrifies you to no end.

The decision is made for you, once again, as his knee slides between your shaky legs, brushing ever so slightly against the heat, that's been steadily growing, and god help you, it feels good.

A low, keening sound rips through your chest, your throat, and he swallows it like it's the only air he'll ever need, responding with a grunt of his own, his fingers tightening over your breast. His other hand slides down, over your ribs, your waist, until it settles on your hip, grabbing the flesh there with all his might, and pulling.

Pushing, and pulling, until your hips stutter into a steady grind against his knee.

You're convinced your blood has turned into living lava, undescribable warmth flooding your abdomen with every move, spilling into your cheeks, the tips of your fingers.

Finally, he detaches himself from your mouth, and as you gasp for air, your senses return to you in a cold wave. Despite the heat, the tingling, overtaking sensation building in your core, the tantalizing way he plays with your breast, your mind cools itself. Finding your voice comes easier than you would've anticipated, and you vow to explore this unexpected level-headedness at a later time.

Your hand finds his chin, nails biting into his impenetrable skin, forcing him to lock eyes with you. The dangerous, almost animalistic darkness within them, would've scared you, at any other time, but right now, all you feel is calmness. The sort of silence you'd experience in the very eye of the hurricane.

- Go to your room.

You almost don't recognize your voice, the low commanding tone that comes somewhere deep within, from some undiscovered part of yourself that seems to come out in his presence only. You're still undecided whether it's Fireball, Smirnoff, or this strange third thing. Perhaps it's all of them combined. Doesn't matter now, what matters is, he stops.

Everything comes to a screeching halt. The knee, the hands, even the song playing quietly on the stereo system. You're convinced he's turned into a statue in front of you, until he blinks. A feverish series, another tell of his running thoughts. His mouth falls open, traces of you cooling against his bottom lip. And then his jaw sets, along with his decision.

- No - your stomach drops - Give me something.

Confidence slips through your fingers like air, as the realization of just how much unprepared for this balance you really are. How you've bitten off so much more than you can chew, and there's no other way forward for you, than to choke on it.

- I... - your voice lodges itself firmly in your throat - I don't...

- You want to play this game? - his voice is low, hot breath fanning against the column of your throat - Play it right. Give me something.

You swallow hard, his eyes drifting to the movement, the pulse running rampant in your artery. This must be that elusive Maybe your friend talked about, but as you stare at him, eyes wide and uncertain, you suddenly feel like the weight of the world has been dropped on your shoulders, which were not meant to carry this burden. Still, in this eye of the hurricane, you make a decision, because there's nothing else to do, nowhere to turn, not really.

Your head nods on its own accord, spine stiff and cracking, and you can see a flicker of victory pass his features. Not in a way that would suggest relief. No. He knew from the start, there's no other way for this interaction to end.

And as such, his hands leave you, as he unclasps the velcro at the wrist of his right glove, the sound jarring in the thick tension between the two of you. Then, the loosened leather presses itself into your lips, resting at the border of your teeth.

- Bite - he says, low in his throat, and the hinges of your jaw creak as you sink your teeth into the hard material.

His hand slides out, elegant fingers, veins climbing the expanse of skin, and your breath hitches ever so slightly. Homelander doesn't waste time. The moment he's free of that one article of clothing, he reaches down, gathering your skirt up. You can feel the flowy material slide up your calves, your thighs, until it bunches up around his forearm. The pads of his fingers brush over the well worn cotton of your underwear, and your eyes flutter, a sign of betrayal from your own body.

He drinks in every reaction, every change, as he slowly, tugs your panties to the side. You can see those sharp canines flash in a borderline giddy smile, as he finally makes contact with your flesh.

- Would you look at that... - he quips, and you know very well, just how drenched you really are, just how tight the muscles of your stomach had been. - Aren't you just the perfect little Sidekick.

There's no time to answer him, as suddenly your walls flutter around his fingers, his thumb finding it's goal with an almost unbelievable ease. Your hips stutter, torn between pushing him closer, deeper, and pulling away. He hums in your ear, his mouth finding purchase behind your ear, where he sucks and bites, until you shiver. Your hands fly up, grabbing at the bronze eagles on his shoulders, nails scraping against the metal, as your mouth falls open. His other hand, which is currently not occupied with absolutely wrecking your nether regions, pushes into your mouth, thumb pressing against your tongue, leather running over your bottom teeth.

He tilts your head up, forces you to look at him, those once baby blue eyes are almost completely eaten by his dark irises, which are lapping at every twist of your eyebrows, every flutter of your eyelashes. Your breath hitches in your throat, as he pushes his fingers as far as they'll go, pressing up into you, the sounds becoming downright obscene. The pressure builds with an almost alarming speed, your thighs starting to shake from the exertion.

His head dips down, tongue sneakig from between his teeth, and he licks a long stripe between your breasts, mouth closing over the small, light scar. There, he sucks, until your back arches, until the skin becomes pink, then red.

And despite the fact, that situation is messed up beyond belief. Despite the fact, that hate burns low in your stomach, it's fire rising with every motion of his fingers, every press of his thumb...

You let go.

Your hand grabs at the back of his head, fingers digging into his skin, pushing him down to meet your open mouth. And you kiss him. Truly kiss him, pouring every hidden or otherwise emotion into the swirling of your tongue. You swallow the loud groan coming from deep within him, and let the pressure in your stomach snap like a rubber band. You've always been quiet, and today is not any different, as your body arches against him, hips moving in an uncoordinated stutter, riding his hand like your life depended on it.

You revel in the way his eyes widen in surprise almost more than your orgasm. The realization, that you've caught him off guard, setting your nerve endings on fire.

He recovers quickly, pulling away from the kiss, his mouth hanging open. Then, his hand rips itself out of you, before you have the time to stop spasming, coming up to his mouth, where he cleans his fingers, shoving them into his mouth. The noise he makes, when he tastes you for the first time, borders on pornographic, and with a freezing shiver running down your spine, you think he looks almost beautiful like this. If he was anyone else, he would be perfect.

Alas, he's himself, and you are what your life has made of you, so you force your breathing to level, until you're sure you're ready to speak.

- Go to your room - you repeat, a note of hoarseness sneaking into your tone, but his eyes flash nonetheless. - Now.

There's just a second of hesitation. An excruciating moment, where your heart nearly stops in your chest. And then, your skirt falls back into place, fluttering around your ankles, as the heat of his body leaves you. That hellish American flag billows after him, and now you're sure the stars and stripes are mocking you.

But he's gone.

The door slams after him, and finally you're left alone, moisture cooling on the insides of your thighs in a way that makes your stomach twist. You can't think about it. You try to shove this entire situation into another box, hide it from sight, stomp on it like an annoying cockroach. Knees buckle under you, and the coolness of the kitchen floor is a jarring contrast to your burning skin.

On instinct, pushed by some invisible force, you reach up, fingers closing over the cigarette pack and the lighter, and this time, you light it correctly. It takes three puffs, until the smoke detector catches on, the water system coming to life, spraying the entirety of your room with cold water.

And you continue sitting there, on the floor, holding your wet cigarette between your teeth, letting the water cover everything, you included. It's okay. You can afford it.

You're a rock star.

#my writing #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #the boys amazon #homelander x you #gonna be a real f fest from here on

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goldencherriess · 3 days ago

Text

The supreme lord of the bathroom.

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Fem! Reader

Summary: A new arrival at Camp Half-Blood announces new opportunities.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: angst if you squint, mentions of blood

Previous part || Series masterlist

Y/N blinked against the sunlight. It was pouring out the window onto her face like a golden cascade. Her ears caught sounds of laughter and chatter. It wasn’t the first time she woke up in the middle of a morning chaos. Life in Cabin 11 had always been that way, too lively for her likeliness. People always shuffling, talking loudly and giggling. It was a cabin which burst with life, but it was also too overcrowded. She rarely felt she got a breather to herself. Most of the time she was yearning to be left alone to her thoughts, but always a Hermes kid jumped at the opportunity to talk to her. She always shut them out. A side of her felt grateful for the warmth she was greeted with when she had first stepped into the cabin, but another side of her was longing to know to which cabin she truly belonged.

Someone jumped on her bunk bed, dipping the mattress. “Wake up, sleepy head!”

“I’m already awake. You lot had awakened me up,” she replied groggily, opening one eye and gazing at the person who was currently taking most of her bed.

The boy only shrugged innocently. “That’s Cabin 11 for ya. You’re stuck with us,” he grinned. “For a while,” he hastily added once he saw Y/N furrow.

She only sighed, before getting up. “It’s been four years, Luke.”

Luke was the first who befriended her the day she stepped into the camp for the first time. She could still remember the warm smile he approached her with.

“Yeah, but others had to wait longer. They still got claimed, though.”

“And others didn’t,” replied Y/N bitterly.

Luke cast his eyes down. “I know, I’m sorry.” A smile spread on his lips again. “You know what I’ve heard?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, while she gathered her hair into a ponytail. “Amaze me.”

“The new kid. He killed the Minotaur. And Annabeth thinks he’s the one. You know, he might just be. Play your cards right and you might get yourself a quest. The quest.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she let her hair fall back down. “Really?”

Luke opened his mouth to reply, but familiar hooves entered the cabin and interrupted him. The tall and lean figure of Chiron stood in the doorway, clapping his hands. “Everyone, everyone. Your attention, please.” Y/N turned her head, curiously taking in the sight of a golden-haired boy beside the centaur. “This is Percy Jackson, I trust you will see to whatever he needs.”

She turned back towards Luke. “Is this the kid?” she asked him, pointing towards the blonde.

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

A grin spread out on Y/N’s face, illuminating her sharp features. “Great. I’ll make the introductions. Don’t interrupt me and let me approach him first. This could be important.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“Promise me, Luke!”

Luke raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I promise! Just don’t scare him off.”

She ignored him and took small steps towards the boy, analyzing his every move. She could tell he was feeling out of place, confused and furious. She could tell because she saw her younger self in his shy eyes and unsure steps. She crossed her arms and leaned on the banister beside his sleeping bag. He was just crouching and taking something out of a backpack when she spoke up. “So, you’re the one who killed the Minotaur?”

He got up and turned around abruptly. His gaze landed on Y/N and she thought his eyes resembled the deep sea and its secrets. “How did you-”

“News travels fast,” she shrugged.

He only huffed. “Look, if you want to give me a hard time, just do it tomorrow. I can’t do any more today.”

“Are you the kid who killed the Minotaur? It’s a yes or no question,” repeated Y/N more firmly, straightening her back and distancing herself from the bannister.

The boy’s eyes travelled to the horn besides his backpack.She followed his gaze. “So, you did. It’s true what they say.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, shuffling his feet.

“What’s your name?” asked Y/N, taking a step closer towards the newcomer. She could feel Luke’s gaze burning holes into her back.

“Percy.”

She smirked. “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Percy. I’m Y/N.” She stuck out her hand in greeting, and he shook it hesitantly.

“Heard what happened to you on the hill,” a familiar voice said. Luke came up beside her, approaching Percy just as he did once to her. “And I just… wanted to say I’m really sorry.”

Percy’s gaze slipped towards Y/N, who was still closely watching him, before it fell, aimlessly looking around and taking in the sight of the wooden floor.

“I know what you’re going through. Believe me.”

“You might not believe it yet, but you’re one of us,” said Y/N, lowering her head to catch his gaze. “You’re a demigod.”

He lifted his gaze, latching onto hers. He almost started at the intensity in them. They strangely reminded him of a thunderous sky in a storm.

“I’m Luke. You met Y/N here. We’re your friends now.”

“Percy,” he replied, shaking Luke’s hand before his eyes panned to Y/N. She hesitantly smiled, before she turned around. “Settle in, no one’s doing your bed around here!” she yelled over her shoulder.

“Bossy,” he whispered under his breath.

Luke chuckled lightly from beside him. “She means no harm. It’s just the way she is. We figured she might take after her godly parent.”

“Who’s her godly parent?” asked Percy, taking his gaze off Y/N, who was just picking up a set of arrows and a bow.

Luke scratched the back of his head. “We, uh, we don’t know. She’s unclaimed. Has been for four years now.”

Percy nodded slowly. He understood. “Just like me,” he murmured.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Y/N loved to watch the birds fly and sing between the emerald trees. She would sit for hours, glancing at the skies every once in a while, while she cleaned her arrows and bow. Today was no different. Sitting under a cooling shadow of a pine, she glanced upwards, catching the sight of an eagle slashing the skies in two. Annabeth was sitting besides her, talking her ear off. “He drools when he sleeps.”

“Does he?” she replied absently.

“Yes, but that’s unimportant. Irrelevant. I think he might be the one.”

Y/N’s lips curled. “I think so too. We might get that quest after all, Annie.”

Annabeth smiled back, her teeth glinting in the sunlight. Not a second later, her face turned serious. “Have you talked to him yet?”

Y/N raised an arrow to her eye level. It glistened. “Do you think it’s clean enough?”

Annabeth’s gaze slid to the silver tip of the arrow. “Yes. Did you talk to him yet?”

“Yes, I did.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And he seems sad.”

“Obviously he would. He’s new and unclaimed.”

Y/N’s eyes flashed and she let her gaze slide away. “No, wait- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Annabeth stuttered.

The eagle let out a cry and it flew away. “It’s quite alright, Annie. It’s the truth,” she smiled bitterly. “Plus, this is why I want that quest. A chance to prove myself and to get his attention.” Her ears recognized Luke’s voice, coming out of Cabin 11. Percy was walking beside him, his eyes shining in wonder. He was looking up at him like a child would look up to their older sibling. She recognized the look. She turned back towards Annabeth. “Got a strategy for Capture the Flag yet?”

“Working on it, but it’s coming around nicely,” smirked Annabeth.

“Never doubted it. Meet you later to talk it through?”

“You got it.”

Y/N smiled before she waved her goodbye. Her steps carried her to the boys, before Clarisse La Rue, the resident bully of the camp (Y/N still vividly remembered her first week. She almost got herself beaten up by her at a Capture the Flag game, before a gust of wind hit Clarisse in a tree trunk, knocking her out for a half of day), bumped into Percy. He grunted, rubbing his shoulder. “Hey!”

Clarisse turned around and pushed him. He fell, the cold earth hitting his back. Y/N sped up, her bow clutched in her hand.

“Woah! Hey, knock it off, Clarisse. It’s like his first day, come on,” voiced Luke.

Y/N reached Percy, holding her hand out to him. He clasped it and she helped him to his feet. He threw her a shy smile and she acknowledged it with a nod.

Clarisse’s face morphed into a look of false astonishment. “Wait, so this is the kid who killed the Minotaur. Is that right?”

“Uh, yeah?” Percy replied, looking around.

Clarisse smiled wickedly. “I’ll bet.” She took a step towards him. “Look, you want attention around here, dummy?”

Y/N’s eyes shifted from Percy to Clarisse, her knuckles turning white on the bow.

“You better be ready for it when it comes.” Clarisse snapped her head towards him, scaring Percy. He took a step back. She laughed and turned on her heels.

“Don’t you get bored, La Rue? Picking on kids half your size?” questioned Y/N, her voice firm and sure.

Clarisse turned around slowly, her face as still as a stone, a cold and deadly look in her eyes.

“Oh, right. You’re doing it for daddy,” continued Y/N. “Not working though, am I right?”

Clarisse’s lips twitched in anger. “Still unclaimed, L/N?”

Y/N felt a pang in her chest, but she smirked nonetheless, “Still afraid of me?”

Clarisse only scoffed before she turned her back on her, fisting her hands.

“Well, she seems nice,” said Percy, pointing at Clarisse’s retreating form.

“Ares kids,” sighed Luke. “They come by it honestly.”

“Don’t mind her too much,” said Y/N, her hands finally relaxing on the smooth wood of her bow.

“You’re not afraid of her,” stated Percy, turning to look at her. Once again, he saw that bold look in her eyes.

“Why should I? She’s just insecure. I’m afraid of nothing, I won’t start shaking in my boots because of a jealous Ares kid.”

“Why don’t they mess with you?”

A smirk bloomed on Luke’s face. “They know better.”

“Luke’s the strongest swordsman at camp and Y/N’s the best archer you’ll ever meet,” voiced Chris, a boy with an earthly brown complexion and jet black curls.

Percy blinked and Y/N could see the gears in his head turning. “So they leave you alone because’ glory’ ?”

Luke nodded.

“So if I get glory Clarisse wouldn’t mess with me either?”

“You learn fast,” said Y/N, regarding him with a glint in her gaze.

“Exactly,” added Luke.

"And people think I’m a big deal?” continued Percy, looking up at Hermes' child.

Luke crossed his arms, nodding his head hesitantly. “Well, sorta, but-”

“And my dad’s got no choice but to claim me,” the blonde said, turning to look at Y/N, as if asking her for her approval. Her smirk fell. It was as if she was looking into a mirror, seeing her pain reflected in a kindred spirit, in the eyes of a boy who felt utterly confused and lost and furious at the world.

“You can’t force the gods to do anything,” interjected Luke, before throwing Y/N a worried glance.

“Well, yeah, but… it would make it harder for him to pretend I don’t exist, right?” shrugged Percy, slowly moving his gaze off Y/N to Luke.

“Maybe.”

Y/N’s voice outpowered Luke’s, her hand once again clenching her bow, until her knuckles turned painfully white. “Definitely!” The boy in question gaped at her.

A smile shone on Percy’s face, his eyes glinting with determination. “Well, great. Where do we start?”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Y/N’s hands never quivered when she held a bow and an arrow in her hand. Whenever she held the weapons, she felt she had a sense of control she had lost the moment she found she was a demigod. She inhaled and slowly exhaled, grounding herself and emptying her head of thoughts. She slowly pulled the arrow and released it. The arrow cut the air and hit the target. A smile broke on her face and she lowered the bow. She turned to look at the golden-haired boy, who was already gazing at her with awe shimmering in his eyes. She handed him her bow. “Your turn.”

He took the bow out of her hand. “I wanna be very clear about this, I’ve never done anything like this before, and it looks super dangerous.”

Luke lifted a shoulder. “And you never killed a Minotaur before either, ‘till you did.”

“There’s a first for everything,” added Y/N, taking out an arrow. Her eyebrows disappeared under her hairline and she held out the weapon. Percy, unsure, shifted his weight, before he accepted the sharp, silvery arrow.

An Apollo child drew out a lighter, but Y/N raised her hand in a warning, her head shaking in a very definite and clear “no”. Percy raised both of his arms and closed an eye, trying to focus on the target but it blurred in front of his eyes, much like the air would dance in a very torrid day in downtown New York.

“You’re holding it wrong,” stated Y/N from beside him.

“Am I?” frowned Percy.

She sighed. “Yes.”

Percy could feel her come up behind him. Her fingertips touched his elbow, raising it slightly. “Stay straighter.” Percy straightened his back, feeling warmth creeping up his neck. “And relax your hold on the bow, it’s not going anywhere.” His fingers loosened around the bow. “Focus.” Percy thought that focusing would be a bit too hard when he could literally feel Y/N’s breath near his ear, but he tried nonetheless.

She took a few steps back. “Release the arrow.”

And he did just that, except the arrow didn’t comply with his will, it flew over everyone’s heads and it stabbed the dark earth. Apollo’s children shrieked and fell to the ground, in an attempt to shelter themselves from the furious arrow. Percy himself fell, a grimace painting his features. Y/N pulled her lips into a thin line, staring at the place the arrow landed. It shone in the sun.

“Should I try again?” questioned Percy meekly.

“No!” Everyone yelled.

“Tough luck,” said Y/N, looking down at Percy.

“Right,” he mumbled before he stuck his hand out, a silent plea to be helped to his feet.

Y/N extended her hand, but she only took the bow out of the boy’s hold. “See you around, newbie!” she yelled once she turned on her feet, marching towards where the arrow was mockingly glinting in the sun rays.

She was pretty sure she heard him swear under his breath.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The light was throwing pretty shades under the tree. A wind picked up and Y/N’s hair ruffled. She looked up at the tree. It was a beautiful pinetree. It was also a lifeline. She heard the stories about it, about how Thalia sacrificed her life to save Luke, Annabeth and Grover. Annie recounted it too many times, Y/N could now recite it in her sleep. She reached out a hand and touched the rough surface of the deep brown bark. It was like a prayer and she almost had the sudden urge to climb it, to regard the world, the wide, swaying blades of grass. To let the winds whip her face in a gentle caress, to let the smiling sun shine on her.

She wasn’t afraid of heights. Growing up, while her mother was still very much alive, her cheeks still bursting with colour, she would get all her pants ripped just because she was stubborn enough to climb trees. She’d be closer to the sky, she used to say as an excuse. But then, she turned 5 years old and the wooden, rustic cabin was replaced by towering sky-scrapers. The once fresh mountain air was now thick and heavy. And the damp, dewed earth was taken by concrete floor. She hated the city, but it seemed that the city hated her back, as she did not find her place there.

Light footsteps spoiled the silence and she knew who it was, before she turned around.

“I think you would have gotten along,” Annabeth voiced.

Y/N turned around. Annabeth was looking up at the tree with longing in her eyes.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She took a seat under the tree’s shade. Her friend followed suit, comfortable silence enveloping them both like gentle hands. Distant laughter could be heard and Y/N basked in the joyous sounds.

“I watched him. He’s awful at archery and sword making.”

A snort escaped Y/N’s lips and she turned to look at her friend. “He is more than awful at archery. He’s horrendous. Never letting him get anywhere near a bow and an arrow again.. A danger to humanity.” She shook her head, laughing softly to herself.

Annabeth lightly smacked her arm. “Do not laugh! This is serious stuff! He needs to be quest worthy!”

Y/N’s chuckles subsided, a ghost of a smile still present on her lips. “You know I want this as much as you do, Annie. I’m just saying things as they are. Why sugarcoat it? He has no talent in archery.”

Annabeth huffed. “I’m still keeping a close eye on him.”

“You do that,” Y/N nodded. Then, as if she suddenly remembered something, she turned her whole body toward Annabeth, criss-crossing her legs. “What about Capture the Flag? Any progress on that?”

“Yes and no. Still figuring things out.”

Y/N started nodding, her lips slightly parted, but Athena’s daughter interrupted her. “You’re on my team, obviously.” And she bumped her shoulder with hers.

A grin illuminated Y/N’s face and she giggled, bumping Annabeth right back. A blowing horn cut the air, announcing that it was dinner time. Annabeth got up with a grunt, dusting her pants, before reaching a hand out to Y/N and smiling down at her. Y/N let herself be pulled up and she threw Annabeth a mischievous grin. “Race you to the tables?”

But she didn’t give her time to answer, as her feet had a mind of her own and sprinted across the hill, down to the camp.

“You cheater!” she heard Annabeth yell, a note of laughter in her tone.

The sun was casting down, bathing everything in fiery orange and Y/N was feeling good.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Is there a Greek god of disappointment? Maybe someone should ask him if he’s missing a kid” Y/N heard Percy say, as she tried to catch her breath (she won the race as she proudly teased Annabeth about it). She picked up an ivory plate, before she waved her friend goodbye, catching sight of Percy’s golden hair.

“Oizys… but she’s a goddess,” replied Chris, as Y/N squeezed herself between him and Luke. “And her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s more like failure.”

She wished for spaghetti, like her mother used to make her in the cold evenings (and then her aunt tried to pick up the recipe. Her spaghetti always turned out to taste like cardboard, the sauce too gelatinous, but the thought and her trying were endearing. She ate them all the same). The spaghetti morphed themselves in her plate, swirls of steam rising into the air. Its savoury aroma tickled Y/N’s nostrils and her stomach grumbled.

“How did the first day go?” she said, as she caught Percy’s blue gaze.

“Awful,” he replied, playing around with his food.

“Well, every first day is awful,” she shrugged. She remembered how miserable she felt on her first day at camp, missing her aunt and feeling confused.

“Thanks, very reassuring.” He threw her a sarcastic smile.

“You’re welcome. Just a reality check.”

“What Y/N is trying to say is that this was just the first day, the others won’t be as bad,” voiced Luke.

“Yes, cause that’s exactly what I was trying to say,” said Y/N, rolling her eyes with a hint of a smile on her lips.

Luke bumped her shoulders with his. “Tone down the sarcasm. It’s his first day.” He then turned to look at Percy, reassuringly smiling at him. “We’re gonna find the thing that you’re good at. I know it.”

A bell chiming cut through the air and Luke turned around. “Our turn.”

“Our turn for what?” frowned Percy, looking at Y/N as she got up.

“Prayers,” she smirked, before gulping down a fork full of spaghetti. They tasted just like she remembered.

“Burnt offerings,” added Luke, picking up his own plate. “The gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer.”

Percy frowned. “They like the smell of burnt mac and cheese?”

“They like the smell of begging,” chuckled Chris, before taking his plate and leaving the table.

Y/N cracked a smile, spiralling the spaghetti on her fork, the sauce dripping down the side of it, vermillion on silver.

“You burn what you’ll miss the most. Then they really mean what you’re about to say, so they listen,” explained Luke.

“Do they, though?” mumbled Y/N, mouth full of food.

Luke didn’t seem to hear her, as he left the table, back straightened. Percy stared her down, lips slightly parted. Y/N gulped down the spaghetti, the sauce burning her throat. “What?” she asked harshly. Her eyebrows pinched.

The boy jumped, as if out of a daze. “You just- You got something on your face.”

“Do I?” She hastily wiped her cheek, a wild look in her eyes.

“Not there. There,” he replied, pointing at the corner of his mouth.

Y/N wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Red sauce painted her hand and she scoffed, before she licked it. Spices and the taste of home invaded her mouth once again. “Thanks,” she mumbled before she turned her back on him, taking steps toward the fire in the centre of the dining pavilion.

The flames were dancing playfully. It was as if they were twirling in a never-ending tango and for a moment she thought she saw a woman smile in the golden light of the flames. She blinked and the flames stared back at her. She scraped the remaining spaghetti off with the fork into the fire. The flames heightened and the smell of home reached her nostrils. “To my father. Please, show yourself,” she whispered.

She gave up guessing a long time ago. Her first guess was Apollo. But then again, she didn’t have a talent for singing, nor did she have a knack for writing (and if you were to ask her, she didn’t make a good nurse either). After a while, she realised that she might be the daughter of a minor god or one of the many children of a major one, a nameless and faceless child in a crowd of thousands.

The fire gave one last puff and crackle and she turned back to the table, where she put back the plate. Percy was still there, watching her every move. Her eyes snapped to his. They really resembled the ocean. Her lips curled slightly, in a smirk. “See you tomorrow, newbie. You’d better show your Minotaur-killing skills at Capture the Flag.”

And she turned on her heels, marching towards Cabin 11.

“Wait, what’s that?” she heard him yell.

Her smile broadened, her fingers twitching at the thought that she’d hold her bow again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Capture the Flag was a glory induced event for the demigods at Camp Half-Blood. For Y/N was no different. She looked forward to the energised atmosphere, the wind-swept woods, the cathartic battle cries. She loved the feeling of freedom and the confidence she felt when holding her trusted bow in hand. But most of all, she looked forward to winning.

“The first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor,” Chiron’s sure voice boomed across the woods. Y/N stood proudly with the bow in her hand and a fistful of arrows on her back, “As always, there will be no maining and no killing. I trust these rules will be respected. Any magical items you may possess, are permitted as well. Every camper who is not injured has to play. Prisoners may be disarmed but may not be bound or gagged. Let the games begin!”

A conch horn blew, announcing the start of Capture the Flag and Y/N grinned, a sense of confidence surging through her veins. The Red Team let out furious battle cries and The Blue Team responded just as much.

“All right. We have twenty minutes before the second conch and game on,” said Annabeth as she came up to her, Luke and Percy ( who was very much fidgeting, but Y/N chose not to say anything about it, as she thought it would hurt his ego. Not that she cared, but she needed her team to focus and win). “You know what you're doing?”

“Yes, m’am” nodded Luke.

She turned towards Y/N, who smirked. “Always.”

Luke started to walk away, but Annabeth speaking up stopped him in his tracks. “Hey. Today feel like a winning day to you?”

Luke slowly nodded. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Y/N saluted Annabeth and Luke before her gaze slid towards the blonde, who was silently watching the interaction. “See you later, newbie! Try to not get yourself killed!”.

And she was off, on her way, running through the woods, going over Annabeth’s plan. Do what you do best, climb up trees, arrows ready. Watch over Percy, make sure they end up near the river. I’ll be right there, watching on, she said to her.

Her feet skidded down muddy paths, the smell of fresh grass and pine trees enveloping her. She heard an eagle croaking and she looked up, catching sight of it as it flew across the camp. She stopped, heaving. She turned towards the tree beside her and she put the arrow on her back, before she proceeded climbing it. The rough bark scraped her palm, drawing blood, but she felt like a child, playing in the backyard. Once she reached a safe branch, she looked at the horizon, the red helmets of the rival team weaving between the emerald green of the woods. She scoffed before she closed her eyes, inhaling. A wind caressed her cheek and a second conch blew. She snapped her eyes open, her mind void of any other thoughts beside the desire to win. She jumped from branch to branch, from tree to tree before she came across a clearing. She recognized Percy’s blonde mop of hair, as he laid on a log with his eyes closed, his fingers playing with a leaf. She leaned against the bark, watching him.

For a split moment, she wondered what was going through his mind. He looked so peaceful, different from the many times she felt him tense or stiffen. She also had the urge to just let her eyes close and enjoy the silence and the sweet sounds nature had to offer, but the scarlet helmets of the opposing team caught her attention. She straightened her back, slowly taking out her bow.

Percy warily sat up, watching as Clarisse took off her helmet and chucked it towards the woods. “Flag’s that way. It’s not here,” he pointed to the other side of the woods.

“We know,” replied Clarisse. “Yeah, glory’s fine. Revenge is more fun.”

She slammed her spear onto the ground. The weapon crackled to life with orange light. Y/N tightened her hold onto the bow and she took out an arrow, watching as Percy hastily grabbed his shield and sword.

“No maiming. It’s like the one rule,” he said, body stiff.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll lose dessert privileges for a while. I’ll live,” smirked Clarisse before she attacked Percy.

Y/N swore under her breath as she watched the boy struggle, swiftly dodging every strike. She raised the arrow and the bow, targeting one of Clarisse’s team mates. Percy fell onto his knee, after he managed to counterattack Clarisse’s crackling spear. Y/N inhaled and exhaled before she released the arrow. It swished, cutting the air, before it stabbed the earth near the foot of The Red Team player. The boy backed in shock, and Clarisse looked around, eyebrows furrowed. “Who’s there?” she yelled.

Percy threw a glance upwards, his gaze meeting Y/N’s. She gave him a solemn nod, before she backed into the shadows. The distraction gave him enough time to swipe his sword at Clarisse. She met his attack with one of her own, pushing him with her spear. He fell backwards, over the log, the wind knocked out of him. Y/N grimaced, she took out another arrow, ready to intervene once again.

“I’m actually not interested in maiming or killing you, believe it or not,” Clarisse stated. “I just want you to admit you’re a fraud. It’d make me feel better.”

Y/N raised the bow. The arrow was ready to be launched.

“Are you feeling up to that yet?” asked Clarisse as Y/N released the arrow. It implanted itself at her feet and the girl took a step back, shock painting her features. Percy got up, speeding through the woods.

“Guess that’s a no,” said Clarisse, after she recovered from the shock, taking after him.

Y/N put the bow on her back and she jumped from the tree, landing on her feet.

“Great aim!” she heard a familiar voice say.

Y/N smiled. “Thanks, Annie.”

The girl appeared beside her, a blue Yankees cap in her hand. She was grinning. “We’re winning this.”

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, a sense of urgency taking over her brain as she remembered that Percy was still very much alone in a three-to-one fight, but a blood-curdling scream interrupted her. She snapped towards the source of the sound and let the feet carry her to it, the woods whizzing past her. She stumbled onto the shore just as Luke and their team arrived, triumphantly holding the flag and cheering. The scarlet flag was swaying in the wind.

Her gaze found the blonde. Clarisse was holding him by the armour. She pushed him away, once the Blue Team invaded the shore. Percy fell to his knees, his chest heaving.

Y/N let out a breath in relief as she approached the boy. “You alright?”

He looked up to her and she noted his left eye was slowly turning purple. Blood stained his cheek. He tried to catch his breath, gulping. “Yeah,” he managed to say.

“You did well,” she replied as she stuck out her hand. He looked at it, before his hand touched hers, and she heaved him up. His eyebrows furrowed as his gaze met hers. He opened his mouth but no words came out.

“Not bad, hero,” Annabeth voiced as she took off her cap, appearing before them.

“Were you here the whole time?” questioned Percy, a note of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“Yes.”

“You were here the whole time and you didn’t help me?” He briefly glanced at Y/N. “I mean, even Y/N helped, but you didn’t?”

Annabeth simply shrugged. “Yes.”

“Why?” asked Percy in disbelief.

Y/N glanced behind her shoulder, catching sight of Clarisse scowling her way. Y/N figured Clarisse might have realised where the arrows came from. She threw her a brief smile.

“Listen… Percy,” she heard Annabeth say. “I’m sorry.”

A splash echoed and Y/N whipped her head around. Percy had fallen into the water, angrily staring at Annabeth. “What is wrong with you?” he yelled. He got up, small waves washing onto the shore.

At first, Y/N thought her eyes were deceiving her, but they couldn’t have, they never did. She had the best aim and target in the whole camp, they never let her down, not once. She watched in amazement as Percy’s injuries healed right before her eyes, water dripping down his arms and face. Her lips parted.

“I don’t understand,” said Percy, looking at Annabeth before he moved his gaze onto Y/N.

A blue glow caught her attention and she raised her gaze. A shining trident was hovering over Percy and Y/N blinked, a puff of air escaping her lips.

“Your dad’s calling,” smiled Annabeth in awe.

Y/N’s lips twitched and she felt how the blood in her veins turned to ice, the green-eyed monster invading her thoughts. Perseus Jackson had been claimed, in just a few days. She remained unclaimed up to this day, even after four years of waiting, of praying and of capturing flags.

Suddenly, the idea of getting a quest spurred her on and she knew that Percy’s arrival at camp and claiming hadn’t been a coincidence. She could feel it in the wind. A storm was bubbling.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: and we're off to a start! I'm very excited to share the next chapter. Stuff is about to go down.

If you'd like to be added to my main tag list or the series tag list, drop a comment or send me an ask!

Lots of love xx

Main tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead @asgards-princess-of-mischief @islayhawkin

Series tag list: @mynicknameisgasoline @constellation-archive @leptitlu @br3nt-12 @utterlyunawarewriter

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x fem!reader #pjo x reader #pjo show #percy jackson spoilers #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #fanfic writing #my writing #masterlist #angst #fluff #laura writes

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httpvomitello · 1 day ago

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Comfort Time *⁠.⁠✧

Leo wasn’t usually one to jump to conclusions. He prided himself on his patience and rational thinking. But two days without hearing from you? Cancelling plans to visit the lair without much explanation? That was enough to make him worry.

He tried to focus on his training, but his mind kept drifting to you. Eventually, he decided enough was enough. He needed to check on you.

Leo made his way to your apartment, slipping in through the window you always left slightly ajar for him.

The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. The second thing? The faint smell of chocolate and the pile of blankets on your couch. As he stepped closer, he saw you, curled up with a hot water bottle pressed against your stomach, looking pale and exhausted.

“(Y/N)?” Leo called softly, concern lacing his tone.

You peeked out from beneath the blankets, your eyes tired but softening when you saw him. “Hey, Leo…”

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” He knelt beside you, his blue eyes scanning your face.

You sighed, a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t want to bother you. It’s just…cramps. They’ve been brutal this time around.”

Leo’s expression softened immediately. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know I’m here for you, right?”

You gave a small shrug. “I didn't imagine it would get this bad....”

He shook his head, gently taking your hand. “ Let me help.”

Without waiting for a response, Leo began tidying up your space, bringing you water, and making sure you were as comfortable as possible. He even sat beside you, offering to rub your lower back where you mentioned the pain was worst.

“Next time, call me,” he said softly. “We’re a team, remember?”

You nodded, leaning against him. “Thanks, Leo. I’ll remember.”

Raph wasn’t known for his patience. So when you cancelled plans two days in a row without much of an explanation, it didn’t take long for him to get annoyed. He’d been looking forward to spending time with you, and now? Radio silence.

“Forget this,” he muttered, grabbing his gear. “I’m goin’ over there.”

Raph made his way to your place, his frustration evident in the heavy way he climbed through your window. But as soon as he saw you curled up on the couch, surrounded by blankets, chocolate wrappers, and a heating pad, his irritation melted into concern.

“(Y/N)? What the fuck goin’ on?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You looked up, your face a mixture of relief and embarrassment. “Raph… I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been dodgin’ me for two days. Thought maybe you were sick or somethin’.” He crossed the room and knelt by the couch. “You okay?”

You sighed, clutching the hot water bottle. “I’m on my period. The cramps are killing me this time.”

Raph blinked, then nodded. “Gotcha.”

He stood up, looking around. “Alright, what do you need? More chocolate? Heat pad refilled? Name it.”

You smiled weakly. “Just…stay with me?”

“‘Course,” he said, sitting down beside you. Carefully, he pulled you into his side, letting you lean on him.

“You should’ve told me,” he grumbled. “I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted.

Raph snorted. “Bother me? Babe, I’m your boyfriend. This is what I’m here for.”

You couldn’t help but smile, lifting your body a little and leaving a kiss on his lips.

Donnie wasn’t one to panic easily, but your sudden cancellation of plans—and subsequent radio silence—had him pacing his lab. He tried to rationalize it. Maybe you were busy? Maybe you just needed some space?

But after two days, his worry got the best of him. He grabbed his gear and headed to your apartment, determined to find out what was going on.

When he arrived, he found you curled up on the couch, surrounded by blankets, an empty box of chocolates on the table, and a heating pad on your stomach.

“(Y/N)?” he called softly, stepping closer.

You opened your eyes, surprised to see him. “Donnie…what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his voice filled with concern. “What’s going on?”

You sighed, feeling a bit guilty. “I’m sorry. It’s just…period cramps. They’re really bad this time.”

Donnie’s eyes softened as he sat down beside you. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve brought you something to help.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you said with a small shrug.

He shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. “(Y/N), I’d rather you bother me than suffer alone.”

He pulled out his phone, quickly researching natural remedies for cramps. “Okay, let’s see. I can make you some ginger tea, or maybe do some light massages to help with the pain.”

You chuckled softly. “You’re amazing, Donnie.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And you’re stubborn. But that’s why we work.”

Mikey was the type to always look on the bright side, but after two days of cancelled plans and no response from you, even his patience was wearing thin.

“I’m goin’ to check on her,” he announced to his brothers, grabbing his skateboard.

When he arrived at your place, he found the window unlocked, just as you always left it for him. He slipped inside and immediately noticed the pile of blankets on your couch.

“(Y/N)?” he called softly.

You peeked out from under the blankets, your face pale. “Mikey…?”

“Babe, what’s goin’ on? You’ve been MIA for two days.” He plopped down beside you, his usual energy tempered by concern.

You sighed, hugging the heating pad closer. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been dealing with really bad cramps. It’s been rough.”

Mikey’s eyes widened. “Cramps? Oh, dude, why didn’t you call me? I would’ve brought snacks, movies, whatever you needed!”

You smiled weakly. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Pfft, bother me? Girl, you’re my favorite person! You’re supposed to bother me,” he said, grinning.

He quickly jumped into action, gathering pillows, refilling your water bottle, and even doing a goofy dance to make you smile.

By the time he settled beside you, you were laughing softly, your pain momentarily forgotten.

“You’re the best, Mikey,” you said, leaning into him.

He wrapped an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Nah, you are. Now, let’s get you feelin’ better, yeah?”

#reader #x reader #y/n #tmnt #tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt x reader #f!reader #tmnt bayverse #bayverse leonardo #bayverse mikey #donnie bayverse #bayverse donnie #bayverse raphael #x period reader

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midnight1nk · 7 hours ago

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EPISODE CONCEPT #4

What if... SMG3 had the courage to confess his feelings for the real SMG4?

For context, this is part two of my Episode Concept #3 [link], which many have asked for! @lovesick-simp, this is for you! (this is somehow longer than #3, holy shit.) Now, without further ado…

I promise.

He could never forget the feeling of tangible pixels leaving his arms. What once skin and clothes turned into mere 0’s and 1’s.

Those eyes, the ones he was willing to sink in its depths for hours, they cried. Of apology, of bittersweet farewell. He promised a lot of things, and one was to never let Four cry.

But it was never your Four.

At the time, a thousand thoughts passed through his mind. That this was simply a nightmare, or he had gotten too drunk. Or he ate a Wonder Flower by accident. Somehow, some way, this can’t be happening. He wanted to deny it all, but he knew. Why deny the truth when he fading away in your arms?

Goodbye, Three…

“SMG3?”

Three jumped at the mention of his name, turning to Tari who looked back at him with concern.

Tari: “Oh, sorry. Just wanted to know if you’re okay. You’ve been staring at Lil’ Spot for a while.”

He blinked at her, and then looked down at the gray-feathered duckling nestle in his cupped hands. Ah, yeah, he was.

SMG3: “I was just daydreaming, that’s all.” [*looks around, recalling where he was*] “It really is a nice place. It’s not far from the Showgrounds, right?” Tari, smiles: “Yep, I always like to come down here, it helps me clear my head. Plus, I get to hang around with the duckies!” SMG3: [*nods and with a finger, he soothes the duckling’s head*] “You were right before, I could use the fresh air.” “Eh, Tari, a little help here?”

Three looked across the way to see a couple of yellow ducklings climbing all over SMG4, who was standing by the edge of the lake. All over on his arms, his shoulders, under his blue cap. As Tari ran over to help, Four trying to not let any of them fall while giggling, tickled by their fluffy feathers.

Three began to smile, and perhaps he could let his heart feel that missing warmth.

Have courage.

But the cautious part of him didn't let him. He should've known better, he apologized to his heart.

Not yet.

Four and Tari came back with the tamed ducklings lined up in their arms.

SMG4: “If I spent a little more time with these little guys, they're gonna think I’m their mom.” SMG3, hums: “You always did have a thing for being the center of the universe.” SMG4: “Hey, it's not like I do it on purpose.”

And yet, you managed to become mine. But Three kept that thought to himself.

Tari: “It's getting late, and I told Meggy I was making dinner tonight. I should probably get them back to their mother.” SMG4, handing the ducklings from his arms to hers: “Yeah, we should head home, SMG3.”

Three said goodbye to Lil' Spot before handing the duckling to Tari, who promptly went to drop them off and returned. While Four was distracted, folding up the picnic blanket, Three leaned towards Tari while keeping an eye on Four.

SMG3, whispered: “Tari, could you please do a simulation check?”

Tari looked at him, her concern reflecting once again. He has asked that everyday. Any chance he was with her, it was the same. The first few times, she tried assuring him, telling him, “It's okay, SMG3. There's no need, you’re safe now.”

But it never seemed to calm his nerves. As much as she wanted to protest, she knew that it wasn't an unreasonable exaggeration. Whatever the simulation did to him must've been really horrible for him not to tell anyone what happened. To think he was back.

Tari nodded and programmed a command on the floating screen projecting by her arm. A window popped up saying, No detection of simulation.

Tari: “All clear.” SMG3, letting out a sigh of relief: “Thanks. I owe you one.” Tari, letting out a small smile: “No worries, we’re your friends after all. Though, I wouldn't mind having one of your cookies again once you’re healed.” SMG3: [*chuckle*] “That I can do.” SMG4, swinging the backpack over his shoulder: “Alright, ready to go?”

SMG3 nods. After saying goodbye to Tari, SMG4 pushed SMG3’s wheelchair on the path towards the Showgrounds.

It’s been over a month since Three was freed from the simulation. The Crew wasted no time bringing him to the hospital. The rest, well, it seemed like a blur. To Three at least. The doctors and nurses, what they said, he never caught it. He was lucky that his friends were there to remember for him. Three wasn’t exactly sure what to feel. Should he grieve? Should he be grateful that the Crew found him and his son?

What he did know was the promise that he kept.

The Crew was naturally relieved to see he was in good hands, but anyone could tell that they were exhausted from the stress of the search. So, while Three was going through recovery, they took turns watching over him.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

One night, Tari and Saiko were walking down the quiet hospital hall, Saiko holding a gift bag and Tari a duffle bag with colorful patches all over it.

Tari: “Do you think SMG3 will like the card?” Saiko: “He’s a big softie on the inside, of course he will. Let's just hope we can pry SMG4 away from him.” Tari: “You can't exactly blame SMG4. I mean, don't you remember? He didn't sleep for days, or even eat. He was worried sick.” Saiko: “But he needs rest too, not just us. SMG3 is rescued, he should let us take care of it, if he wasn't so stubborn.” Tari: “Well, that nurse did say SMG3 would be better soon. Maybe we convince SMG4 this time.”

They reached to Three's room, but they found an unexpected sight when they opened the door:

Four fell asleep on the chair beside the bed, his head resting on Three’s lap like a pillow. A sleeping Three had a hand gently on Four’s hair with all the tenderness and quiet reassurance in the world. What was free, their hands were intertwined. It was certainly a rare sight, and they seemed so at peace with each other.

Tari and Saiko shared a glance, a gentle smile.

Tari: “Aw, that's so cute.” [*snaps a picture for the group chat*] Saiko: “C’mon, let’s them be.”

Saiko tiptoed into the room and left the gift bag on the nearby table. Peering at them one last time, she gently closes the door. They could always come back tomorrow.

There, what awaited in the gift bag, were reminders of home. A bomb from his cafe, a mini-plush of Eggdog, a record of jazz music. A homemade card, one side filled with heartwarming messages and the other a drawing of all the Crew with the Castle in the background, one of the best works Melony has ever done.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

SMG4: “I bet I can drink a thousand cans of Monster Energy.” SMG3: “Nah uh! You’re lucky I can’t drink that stuff yet because I would’ve totally beaten you!” SMG4: “Oh, really? Well, I can’t wait to see you try.”

The two laughed as they reached the Castle. Eggdog greeted them at the door, happy to see his dads (And yes, I know what I said, shh) after Three's physical therapy session and jumped into his dad’s arms for a quick hug. Beeg4 slowly followed his brother, only letting out a pufferfish noise as a small “hello”. He isn’t usually the affectionate type. Four went to get Three’s customized cane leaned against the wall, and helped Three get to his feet. (The cane was a gift from the Crew but Bob was the one who added neat little secrets for Three to use. Though, Bob wants it to be off the record that it isn’t because he’s gone soft or anything.)

Ever since Four proposed the idea for Three to stay at the Castle, this has become second nature for them. They switched out the wheelchair with the cane at home so Three would be more comfortable walking around. Plus, he would usually hold Four’s arm to lean on. After his physical therapy appointments, Four would cook up dinner for the whole family. Or see if there’s any leftovers or takeout on special occasions. Three recently got the approval to eat solid food again, and Three couldn't be more glad. He was honestly getting sick of the same old soups day after day. Well, even if they tasted good. And they all sit at their usual seats at the table, not that they assigned seats or anything. It felt natural.

And today was pizza night.

SMG3: “Y’know…” SMG4, setting the pizza down: “No.” SMG3: “Oh, c’mon. You haven’t even tried it, you big baby.” SMG4: “And I already know that your ‘Ultimate Pizza’ is a disgrace to culinary art. To your tastebuds. Who the hell puts baked beans on pizza?” SMG3: “Well, Eggdog likes it.” Eggdog, helping set the plates: [*happy bark*] SMG4: “Oh, so now you’re bringing the kids into this? C’mon, Beeg, help me out here.” [Beeg doesn’t respond] [*acts dramatically, like someone stabbed him in the heart*] “I’ve been betrayed. Pleh.” SMG3, shakes head amusingly: “Shut up and eat, idiot.” SMG4: “Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me.” [*taunting*] “Forever.” SMG3: “Oh no, whatever should I… do.”

He… said this before, hasn’t he?

SMG4, mouth full of pizza: “Uh, SMG3, you’re good?” SMG3: “Yeah yeah, I’m fine.” [*eats his slice somberly, looking away*]

Four kept his gaze on Three. He wanted Three to tell him what was in his mind. He wanted to reach out and hold his hand. Comfort him. They have been there for each other at the worst of times. At each other’s worst.

There were two things they shared with absolute certainty: (1) they’re both stubborn, and (2) they would put up a brave face for the people around them.

Four did, when he discovered Three and Eggdog missing from the cafe. He would put on a determined smile, telling the rest of the Crew that they would rescue Three. But he supposed they could see right through him. That he was crumbling. Three was the one who saved him when he went insane and was possessed by the demonic keyboard. How could he not be frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t do the same?

Biting into his pepperoni slice, Four thought to himself, if only there was a way to take away all the pain Three was feeling right now. If only Three would let go of the front he has and let him show his pain in front of Four. To let Four be his safe space.

There isn’t much he can do, other than to let Three come to him on his own terms. When he is ready.

After finishing up dinner and washing the dishes, they all went to Four’s room. Eggdog and Begg decided to play Jenga, Three sat on the bed scrolling through his phone, and Four went back to editing videos since there was a lot of catching up to do. The record player was playing jazz music, the LP cover was signed “To SMG3”. Three bobbed his head while Four hummed the notes, admittedly it was a great disc that they could both enjoy. After a while, Three reminded Four to take a break from the screen, to which Four immediately complied and sat next to Three.

SMG4: “How’s your legs?”

SMG3: “Tired. But not as bad as last time. Could you pass the pills?”

SMG4, grabbing the bottle and handing it to Three: “Well, you are getting better in today's therapy session. Just wait a bit more.”

When SMG3 grabbed his medication, they briefly touched. It normally wouldn’t mean anything, but there was a tingle. Of curiosity, of warmth. The two lightly blushed, which they quickly brushed it off. They sat in silence as Three swallowed the pills.

SMG3: [*held his jaw by the hand*] “Do you know what I miss the most?” [*looks at Four, who nods as a sign for him to go on*] “Dancing.”

Three didn’t lie, it was one of the things he loved to do. That, and one other reason...

After some thought, Four stood up from the bed. Three didn’t even notice until Four stood before him. Four cleared his throat, a tint of pink on his cheeks, and held out his hand.

SMG4: “Wanna dance?” SMG3: [*puzzled, looking at the hand to Four and back*] “SMG4, I think we should get you some glasses.” SMG4: [*amusingly rolling his eyes*] “’It doesn’t have to be perfect.’ Isn’t that what you always told me?” SMG3: [*starstruck at the remembrance of this memory, lightly chuckled*] “And you dare to use my own words against me.”

Four helped Three up to his feet, his arms being his only support instead of the cane or wheelchair. At first, it was naturally awkward, being that Three is still recovering. Their dancing, if you would even call it that, was more of them shuffling their feet around the floor. They didn’t care.

Fly me to the moon Let me play among the stars

Slowly, they melted in each other’s embrace. Oh, how easily it was to be lost in the other’s eyes, pools of ruby and sapphire. Secretly, they wished they could be like this forever.

Let me see what spring is like On Jupiter and Mars

In the back of Three’s mind, alarm bells were ringing loudly. It isn’t real. He just wants to be friends. Somehow, Three ignored it all the moment Four gave him a smile.

In other words, hold my hand In other words, darling, kiss me

What Three didn’t know, Four was lost in his own mind. The romanticist that he is, he’s freaking out in the inside like a high school girl. It felt like a scene in the romcom movies he watches. But it was real. Three taught him how to give second chances. Perhaps there was a chance now.

Fill my heart with song Let me sing forevermore

Three ran his fingers on Four’s sleeve. It’s real. He’s real.

You are all I long for All I worship and adore

His shooting star, his sweet prince.

In other words, please be true

His hope.

In other words, I love you

As the song ends, the two came to a stop, but they didn’t part. Once again, they were lost in each other’s world.

SMG3: “…We’ve stopped.”

SMG4: “We did? Then, why is a room still spinning?”

Being so close to the other man, the tension was high. Have courage.

Even then, it wasn’t enough. He’s not your Four. Three cleared his throat, looking away before any temptation got hold of him.

SMG3: “I’m… pretty tired, SMG4.” SMG4: “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” [*reaching to hand Three his cane, hiding his disappointment*] SMG3: “Thanks anyway.” [*walks out the door, preparing to go to bed*]

SMG4 stayed where he stood, his heart skipped a beat. It felt like a dream. He danced with his… Well, ‘friend’ was never the right word for him to label Three. Partner? Maybe.

Crush. Yeah… that sounds about right. Ever since Four was saved by Three, he never looked at their relationship the same way. “Just friends” was the stability for the longest time. The “safe” term. And yet, it was selfish to wish for something more. So much so that Four had dreams of a domestic life with Three. Holding hands, to lean to his touch. To…

Four shook his head. Three didn’t seem ready, or even interested. It was just part of his imagination and nothing more.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

The concrete halls were dark, cold by the touch. All was silent except for the dripping coming from an overhead pipe leak. Light shined through, daring the shadows to confrontation.

They didn’t think they’d be back, but here they were.

Mario, Meggy, and Saiko walked down the abandoned building, remembering their way to a specific room.

Meggy: “We’re getting close, guys. Keep your eyes peeled.” Saiko: “I seriously don’t see the point of us coming back here. Whoever did this is long gone.” Meggy: “Tari was telling me how SMG3 was, and… Look, whoever did this really messed him up. But they must’ve had some big plan for them to involve SMG3 in something. We gotta figure out what it was.” Saiko: “If you think it’s gonna help, fine. Like I said, I’m only here as backup.”

Finding the right door, they entered what was once the simulation room. The group split up and searched for any clues.

Saiko: “Looks like they didn’t come back here.” [*examines the monitor and finds a file of plans in creating the simulation*] Meggy: [*picks up the simulation machinery*] “It’s completely busted. Find anything, Red?” Mario: “No.” [*trips over a hidden box, spilling its contents*] “Ow, my ass.” Meggy: “Are you alright?” Mario: [*rubbing his head*] “Yeah.” [*looks at what he tripped over*] “Hey, I found SMG3’s clothes!” Saiko: “Clothes?”

Indeed, there was a pair of black overalls, a dark blue long-sleeve, and a familiar cap. Meggy picked up the cap, spinning it in her hands. Seeing the “M” emblem, she recognized it immediately. SMG3 wore this getup before the redesigns, and she knew why the “M” was attached.

Meggy: “The Youtube remote. They were trying to make SMG3 into a villain again.”

Mario and Saiko exchanged a glance, seeing the situation at hand. To force Three into a villain again…

Saiko: “You guys get out of here.” Mario and Meggy: “What?” Saiko: “The simulation machinery may be destroyed but it doesn’t mean another one can’t be built.” [*presents the file to them*] “That person’s going to come back and get their things, maybe continue with their plan. They already hurt one of us, it can’t happen again. You guys get out of here, I’ll take care of it.”

Mario and Saiko looked at each other before giving a nod. Saiko was right, the culprit always comes back at the scene of the crime after all. The two left, leaving Saiko alone in the room. She picked up a lighter and lit the file blueprints, watching these plans of cruelty burn to a crisp. She was lucky to buy one of Three’s bombs just for a moment like this. She lit up and ran out, letting the explosive destroy it all. The clothes, the plans. The building itself. Every single bit to a crisp.

No one messes with the Crew. No one.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

“Three?”

SMG3 opens his eyes, widening as he recognizes his surroundings. The white void.

SMG3: [*heavy breathing*] “No, no, no.”

He turned his heel, ready to run, when he was stunned to see…

SMG3: “…SMG4?” SMG4: “God, you really are pathetic.”

Three is left stunned.

SMG4: “I mean, did you really think I had feelings for you? I’m only taking care of you because I feel bad.” [*walks over to Three*] SMG3: “I thought—” SMG4: “Oh, you thought? Please, get a grip on what’s real here.” [*harshly grabbed onto Three’s arm*] Villains don’t get happy endings.” SMG3: “Four, you’re hurting me. Stop it. Just stop!”

Suddenly, Four went limp, starting to fall over.

SMG3: “Four!” [*catching him*]

Three turns Four over to see his face half of it was pixelated, fading away.

SMG4?: “You… couldn’t keep your promise.” SMG3: “No… I… I’m trying. I really am.” Digital SMG4: “I got a chance to live, to experience love of all things.” [*his voice quickly distorting*] “And you ruined it all.” SMG3: “No, it’s not true. It’s not!” Digital Four: “Why, Three? Why did you have to be so cruel?”

In that moment, Four faded away, its code in the wind.

SMG3: “No, no no!”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

SMG3: ”NO!”

Three jolted up from the bed. A hand clutching at his shirt, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Four, who slept right next to his partner, also woke up.

SMG4: “SMG3. Three. It’s okay, that dream isn’t real. It’s not real.” [*his hands gently cradled Three’s face*] “Easy, easy, easy.”

Three finally came to his senses, grounded by Four’s reassurance. His heavy breathing settled until his panic was no more.

SMG4: [*his thumb caresses the other’s cheek*] “See? It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”

From the calmness and comfort of his hands, Three leaned into his touch. What he dreamed of, that wasn’t his Four. They stayed like this, the air becoming heavy. Until Three reached to grab Four’s hand from his cheek, but he didn’t shoo the other away.

SMG4: “Three…” SMG3: “I can’t. Sorry…”

SMG4 sighed, once again unable to reach him. But there still had to be a way to help Three.

SMG4: “Hey, do you think you can sleep again?” SMG3: [*shakes his head*] “No.” SMG4: [*gets up from bed and grabs Three’s shoes*] “C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Three had no idea where Four was taking him, but here they were: walking through the woods still in their pajamas, in hoodies, and shoes. They weren’t in a rush but Four was seemingly eager to show him this mystery. He looked at Four without the other noticing.

Me, the Crew, everything, it's an exact copy of the real thing.

The Four in the digital world was a mere copy. But even a copy could never show him what he was about to see:

Beyond the woods, there was a field of white flowers. Open to the beautiful stars above. The two sat down and looked at the view.

SMG4: “Whenever I get a nightmare, I always come here. I just happen to stumble over all of this. But it somehow clears my head. Especially after… the ‘perfect’ incident.” [*small chuckle*] “I guess there are some things we can't get over.”

Three looks at him, hanging on to every word.

SMG4: “I care a lot about you, SMG3. More than you could ever realize. But it hurts to see when you’re trying to keep it all together. I know that feeling all too well. I can’t force you to tell me what happened in the simulation, but know that whatever happens, I’ll be here for you.”

Their hands got closer together. Their pinkies touched, they noticed but didn’t show.

SMG3: “I don’t know if you should. All the people I care about don’t stay for long. I’m unlikable, SMG4. I’m a villain and always will be.” SMG4: [*shakes head*] “You’ve changed. Besides, I like you. All of you.” [*their pinkies intertwined*] SMG3: “Four…” SMG4: “No, I’m not going to change my mind. I won’t leave you. Whatever you wish me to be, I will be it. A friend, a partner. Someone you can talk to. Anything.”

The air felt heavy once again, and everything became a blur. The silent wind passed through their hair. Have courage.

SMG3: [*gulping*] “…Then, let me ask: are you real?”

A free hand from Four held the other’s face.

SMG4: [*briefly looking at Three’s lips*] “As real as you want me to be.”

Whatever stopped him several times before, Four cut those ties loose. He leaned forward, his eyes slowly closing. He was patient and ready to see if Three would reject him. But Three didn’t and let Four close the gap.

A soft kiss, it was brief. It was tender. It was real.

Three kissed back, letting the other know he reciprocated. They parted for a moment, waiting for the other to make a move.

SMG3: “Then, be true for me.”

They went for a second kiss, this time with passion and longing. This. This cleared every doubt they had before. Their insecurities, whatever held them down. Three wrapped his arms around Four’s neck while other did the same, around Three’s back. If this was a dream, screw it, let them dream. This time, nothing was going to take it away from them.

A single tear rolled down Three's cheek. It's been a while, hasn't it?

SMG3, talking in between kisses: “I love you, Four. I always have.” SMG4, doing the same: “I love you too, Three. I wanted you for so long.” SMG3, parting from kiss: [*laugh*] “Oh? Did you now?” SMG4, turning bright red: “Uh.. c’mon, dude, don’t ruin the moment. It’s not my fault you’re attractive.” SMG3, mischievously leaning to Four: “Really?” SMG4: “Shit.”

Three nuzzled into Four’s neck, kissing all over and leaving Four laughing at how ticklish it was.

SMG4, bursting in laughter: “Three, s-stop!” SMG3, whispered: “Glad to know I wasn’t the only one who thought the same.”

Oh, how wonderful was it to listen to the sounds Four makes.

His shooting star, his sweet prince.

His Four.

After a while, the two catch their breath. They leaned onto each other, held hands, and looked back at the stars.

SMG4: “I promise I’ll be true for you.” [*gave Three's hand a squeeze*] SMG3: [*hums, returning the gesture*] “Well then, I’ll do the same for you.”

Three held many promises, one was to never let Four cry. Now, there was another: to be his truest self.

#smg4 #smg4 smg3 #smg34 #smg43 #smg3 x smg4 #ink episode concepts

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ex0rin · 9 months ago

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today's insanity is: noticing that Negan winks at Carl in the iron scene when he says "I don't ever want to do that again."

damn you camera angle

#the way that i am late to this party though #hey 2016 can i join your fandom now #cegan #his smile makes me want to jump out a window #he could beat me to death with that baseball bat and I would say thank you while it was happening #cara gifs

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artdcnaldson · 5 months ago

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NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like�� you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

#and when they bring Tashi in to teach her to ask for what she wants then what????#if u want me to continue this……. please god please keep sending me reqs for this au #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #my writing #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader

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ciaoteamo · 7 months ago

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Milk and Water (Pt. I)

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: One of the newest residents’ very first doppelgänger comes in, trying to sway you into to letting them in. Will you..?

pt.II

art credit (twt: loafuu_chii)

warning: 18+ content

“…what’s the story behind your um… ears(?)” You ask the doppelgänger before you. It was a clone of one of your favorite neighbors actually, her name was Maria.

A woman around your age that you became really close friends with over the few months of you working here.

“@&! !$?&” The doppelgänger let out a series of sounds.

“right, so give me one second” You press the bright red button next to the window and the steel blinds shut with a blaring alarm sound.

You call D.D.D. and they clean up their mess per usual. You once again, you were just thankful you didn’t have to work on that side of the glass.

You check your wrist watch, and happily sigh at the fact that you only had one more hour left to work.

“ mmm, someone’s eager to go home i see” A familiar voice speaks up.

“oh, Mr. Francis” You give the man a polite grin. He gave you a sly one in return. You knew it wasn’t him off the bat. Francis was usually shy towards you, making you want to tease him into blushing whenever you saw him.

Well, you suppose you could kill two birds with one stone. Flirt with the doppelgänger of your crush, and have some entertainment.

“how are you pretty girl” He asks, sliding an I.D. and sheet through the slot.

You examine the documents and identification and beam a smile up at him.

“the date on the I.D. is a little expired hun” You declare. He lets out a small chuckle and leans a little toward the glass.

“mmm, been busy with the milk business, love. must’ve slipped my mind to renew it” He replied. His eyes were low but he still held his sly grin. You leaned back in your chair, with a bored look on your face.

“you’re not like my Francis” You huff and tilt your head with a disappointed look.

His grin faltered and he stepped closer. His breathing had quickened a bit and he took off his hat. “who knows, i could be better” He suggests.

Now that his confidence had depleted a little, you were growing bored of him. You checked the time again and you had 45 minutes left.

“well i’ve gotta get you moving now. it was nice to see such a handsome face though, so thank you” You beam and reach for the button

“you don’t want to do this, trust me” He states with a warning tone. This wasn’t unusual, getting threats after realizing they’re doppelgängers, but being that this one was this aware… they must be evolving.

“and why would i trust you?” You ask out of curiosity.

“i mean look at me” He smirks, one arm leaned against the top of the window. His irises turned from their chocolate brown and into an empty pure white.

“hm” You nod and press the button.

“(Y/N)!” He roared with what you assume was his fist banging the glass.

You call D.D.D. and wait for them to clean their mess, again.

The steel blind begins to lift and you sit back in your seat, checking your watch again but noticed the new pink lighting that shone in.

You furrow your eyebrows and look up in horror as you see blood streaks on the window in thick, and dripping amounts. You jump out of your chair and put your back against the wall.

About 5 D.D.D. workers were piled up, bloody and battered in the corner of the room, and there the doppelgänger was.

Staring at you.

His eyes were low, his shirt was torn, revealing his pecs and the start of his abdomen. He was panting with his (surprisingly still) neat hair and an almost psychotic expression.

“oh no…” He starts with a laugh, still breathing heavily.

“what did you do..?” You cover your mouth with your hand.

“it’s what you did. you got me all riled up.”

He looks down for a brief moment and you swear you hear a zip. He holds his tie and the end of his tattered shirt in his mouth and looks up at you with knitted eyebrows.

His breath fogging up the window as he asks you. Looking like a poor starving puppy. “will you let me in now…? I need your help…” He slightly groaned.

“…what. the. fuck.”

#milkman #milkman x reader #francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #ciaoteamo #x reader #imagine #smut #fem dom reader #thats not my neighbor #milkman smut #milk the man

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phsychobanana · 11 months ago

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In your eyes

Pairing: Zuko x Firebender!reader

Summary: When Zuko falls for a member of the gaang, he fears that his mistakes may ruin his chances with them.

Word count: 2.3k

A/n~ I think this is gender neutral? I don't remember putting any specific pronouns, but correct me if i'm wrong. Enjoy!

Funnily enough, the first time you met Zuko was at the northern water tribe. Two fire benders surrounded by waterbenders during a full moon. Not exactly an ideal situation for any firebender, but you were welcome, whereas Zuko was not.

You were running as fast as you could, your legs carrying you in a speed you didn't know was even possible. Katara was in trouble and the moon was slowly disappearing from the sky, fire nation soldiers were everywhere, the water benders were struggling with the loss of the moon and you were terrified.

"Katara!" You yell to her as you get closer to the girl. She was fighting a boy you had never seen before.

You jump on the boy's back and hold your hand to his throat, heating your palm up slowly.

"I would choose my next move carefully if I were you." You say as Katara puts her own hands to her neck and moves them around trying to mimic an explosion.

Suddenly, the boy moves his hands to your face and you feel a burning swipe across your eyebrow. You let go of him and move your hands to your face, a searing pain on your eyebrow almost making you drop to your knees. Katara rushes to your side in a panic,

You see the boy grab Aang and run off before you could do anything.

"Who was that?" You ask Katara angrily.

"Zuko."

***

Zuko followed you and the gaang around for weeks, those weeks turning into months. And the more he saw you, the more he wanted to see you again.

Unfortunately for him, the more you saw him, the more you wanted to smash his head through a window. But every couple has their problems.

You held a very strong grudge towards him, seeing as your eyebrow had scarred and you now had a line going through your eyebrow and over your eye. It made you angry every time you looked in the mirror.

Unbeknownst to you, Zuko felt absolutely terrible for what he had done. He didn't mean to scar you, he would never wish his fate on anyone. Not even his greatest enemy, which lamentably, happened to be you at the moment.

***

The next memorable time that you saw Zuko was in the crystal cave. You had both been thrown in there as a punishment and you were freaking out. Aang, Katara, and Sokka needed you.

You started hitting the walls, throwing as much fire power at it as possible, you even broke a crystal into one big sharp shard and slammed it against the door repeatedly, but it was no use.

"There's no point in doing that." Zuko says, looking at you with his blazing golden eyes. "We aren't getting out until they want us out."

You just scoff in response, unsure of why he was even talking to you in the first place.

He looks at you when he hears your scoff, "You don't have to be rude."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings by being mean?" You mock him in a baby voice, causing him to roll his eyes.

"What's your problem?" Zuko asks, looking you up and down with pinched eyebrows.

"What is my problem? You're my problem, Zuko. You've been hunting my friends and I for months, you've hurt us -or attempted to- more times than I can count, you gave me this," You point to your scar, making him flinch, "And you have the nerve to ask me what my problem is?" You let out another scoff and turn around, giving him your back.

Zuko looks down at his hands, not knowing what to say. He watches as you light each one of your fingers up like a candle to keep yourself distracted.

He walks over and sits next to you, doing the same with his fingers.

You look at him and roll your eyes.

He smiles softly to himself. You haven't moved away from him, yet.

***

If there had ever been even a sliver of you that had liked him in that cave, it was completely gone now. He had betrayed you that night in the cave and it hurt you.

It was the day of the eclipse and you were running through the underground tunnels, looking for Sokka. As you were running you bumped into something, falling hard to the ground.

"Ow!" A familiar voice huffed as the other person made contact with the ground.

"Zuko?"

He looks up, his hair falling into his eyes. You notice his eyes widen and light up, but just as he goes to say something you lunge at him.

With your hands around his neck, you yell at him through gritted teeth. "I trusted you!"

"I know, I'm sorry." He barely gets the words out, gasping and clawing at your hands.

You let go of him and slam him into the ground hard.

"I swear to the spirits, if you ever try to hurt my friends again I will kill you with my own two hands. No bending, no help, just me and you." You say and walk away to go find Sokka.

Zuko sits there for a moment replaying what you said in his head over again. A small smile spreads across his face and he jumps up, running after you.

***

"You have got to be kidding me!" You yell at your friends. They were letting Zuko, the guy that had tried to kill you and capture Aang on more occasions than you could count, into the group.

"Everyone deserves a second.....or 100th chance, Y/n." Aang says, placing a hand on your shoulder as Zuko takes a step towards you.

You clench your fist defensively, making him put his hands up in defense as he takes another step forward.

"I get why you wouldn't trust me, but I've changed." He says, taking one of your hands in his. You pull away with a hollow laugh and walk away.

"Fine, let this psycho join us. I don't care." You say as you disappear behind a wall.

Zuko looks down with a sigh. "Challenge accepted..." He says under his breath as he thinks of ways to win you over.

***

Two days after Zuko joined the gaang, you were attacked. A pack of firebenders found you, attacking the group. You all paired together, Sokka with Toph, Katara with Aang, and you with Zuko. You had begged Toph to pair with you but Sokka stole her, leaving you with the one person you did not want.

You were back to back, fighting off the soldiers when another fleet arrived. The gaang chose to run, not wanting to be captured. You stayed behind to fight off the rest of the soldiers so the others could get away.

"Y/n come on! Hurry!" Sokka yelled for you as you were running after Appa. A soldier dived at you and their hand grabbed at your ankle, making you tumble to the ground.

"Go!" You yell and Aang pulls Appa out of there. You kick your foot back at the soldier, successfully kicking them in the face. You run off into the forest, You can hear the soldiers running after you as you twist through the trees.

You feel something grab your arm and pull you toward them. Looking up, you see Zuko. He's not looking at you, instead looking at the soldiers running around looking for you. You notice that he pulled you into a clearing hidden by trees and bushes. He places his hand over you mouth as you go to say something.

His adams apple bobs as he swallows harshly, listening and watching for any signs that the soldiers might be headed towards the two of you. After no signs, he looks down at you, finally making eye contact.

His golden eyes shine as he looks at you and he smiles softly.

"Thank you." You say quietly, not wanting to be too loud.

He nods.

"Do you still hate me?" He asks with a barely there smirk.

You shake your head. "I don't think I ever really hated you." He smiles at you. "I just strongly disliked you. It was a very strong dislike. Very strong."

"Okay, I get it."

You laugh softly at his dismissiveness of the subject.

"Do you think I'm still a bad guy?" His voice is quiet. Barely a whisper, but you hear it.

You look at him, he's looking down at the grass, his fingers are playing with each other out of habit, his hair is fallen over his face and covering his eyes. You never quite realized how pretty he was.

"Of course not-" You begin to tell him your answer, but your words are interrupted by yelling.

The two of you turn your heads in the direction of the noises and see your friends running to you.

"There they are!" Katara calls to the others as she makes eye contact with you.

Zuko lets out a frustrated breath at the interruption, but he gets up and dusts off his clothes, offering you his hand.

***

The days after that moment in the woods would replay in your mind every night before you would sleep, every morning when you'd awake, every meal, every training session with Aang and Zuko, every group meeting, every day all day.

You had started watching Zuko more than you would care to admit. The way he tried to make up for all of his past mistakes always seemed to put a smile on your face. He helped Katara in the kitchen when he could, he always made time to talk about weapons with Sokka, he always played games with Toph and Aang, and he was especially trying to make it up to you. Though you didn't notice that part.

He always pulled your chairs out for you, he helped teach you how to control the lightning within you, he even got you flowers one time. Unfortunately the flowers backfired and Appa ended up eating them, sneezing petals for a week.

You were currently training Aang on the beach with Zuko. The sun was blazing down on your back and your cotton shirt was absorbing all of the heat, making you sweat more than you would normally.

You walk over to where Katara, Toph, Sokka, and Suki are sitting, sipping their little coconut drinks as they watch you and Zuko beat the arrows off of Aang.

You take both ends of your shirt and pull it over your head, leaving you in your shorts and bathing suit top. When you walk back over to the boys you notice how red Zuko's face is.

"You alright over there, Z?" You ask, worried that he might be overworking himself in the heat.

His head snaps to look you in the eyes, his face going an even deeper red.

"Y-yeah, heh. Why wouldn't I be?" He looks around, avoiding looking at you with everything in him.

You decide to ignore his weird reaction to your words and go back to teaching Aang.

"This one is a partner move. So, I'll demonstrate with Zuko and then when you understand how to do it, you can try with him." You explain as you walk over to the spluttering and red as a beet, boy.

You move his hand to your waist and his other in yours, your own face heating up a bit at this position. You then kick his own foot out from underneath him and flip him over your shoulder. You light your hand ablaze and put it near Zuko's neck like one would a sword.

"I thought you said this was a partner move," Zuko groans out.

"Yeah, good guy and bad guy. Partners." You say with a smirk.

"You can do that, right Aang?"

Aang nods his head excitedly.

After another hour or two of flipping Zuko over your shoulders, you all sit down around a camp fire on the beach for dinner. You and Zuko offer to collect the plates and take them back up to the house.

"You did good in training today." He says as he takes the plates from your hands and places them on the counter.

You let out a small laugh.

"Well I would assume I did considering the amount of times I was able to flip you."

He rolls his eyes and you take this moment to admire him.

His hair falls in perfect strands across his forehead, his golden eyes reflect the light of the setting sun peeping through the window, his skin is soft as you place your hand on his.

He looks at you confused when he feels your touch.

"You did good, too." You say softly.

He smiles at this, looking down at your hand that was still on his.

"How do you see me?" He asks, breaking the peaceful silence.

"What do you mean?"

"What am I in your eyes?"

You think for a moment, pondering how your answer.

"You're a person who has made many mistakes." You begin, making his shoulders droop a little bit. "But you are also a person trying to make up for all of those mistakes. You're a kid, a kid who has been through a lot. Yet, you're still sweet and funny and kind and loyal. You try to hide how you feel, but I can still see every emotion you have in your actions. You're trying. And for that, I think you are amazing. That is who you are in my eyes."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, making you feel nervous about how he would react.

With a million thoughts racing through his mind, he decides not to say anything. You said that his actions meant more, so he spoke with an action.

He gently placed his hand on your cheek and leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away at any second. But you don't.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, his hair tickling your cheek. You smile into his kiss making him smile as well. Your arms wrap around his neck and you pull him closer as he pulls away from the kiss. You rest you foreheads against each other, catching your breath.

"I think I like you." He says, making you laugh.

"Oh shut up." You say and lean in for another kiss.

#prince zuko #zuko #avatar the last airbender #zuko x reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #x reader #atla #zuko atla #fire lord zuko #aang #avatar aang #katara #sokka #toph #suki

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luveline · 2 months ago

Note

pls spencer and bombshell reader where she like sacrifices herself for him or does something outrageous for him. i love your weiting!! 💝

You don’t have any other choice, Spencer’s on the other roof being held in a chokehold by the UnSub —rational thinking goes out the window. He sees your face and, though he’s starting to look a little blue, gestures wildly for you to not do what you’re thinking.

You jump.

You take the landing hard —you ran hard, jumped harder, cringing as the grit of the rooftop tears through your shoulder. You roll into it. In one moment you’re standing, and then you’re knocking the assailant off of your boyfriend just before he falls unconscious.

You forget everything you’re supposed to remember, flipping the UnSub without care onto his front, yanking his arms back, and cuffing him tightly. He’s a serial child murderer, so it’s kinder than he deserves.

“Stay down,” you warn, cuffs so tight you can see the perp’s hand changing colour. You’ll have to fix that soon, but you have more important matters at hand. “Spencer?”

His answer is hoarse, “Yeah.”

You leave the UnSub where he’s laid down and rush to Spencer. You drop to your knees beside him, alarmed that he’s still curled up and gasping. “Hey, hey, what can I do?”

He grabs your arm and sucks in another breath.

“Spencer?”

“Why did you do that?” he asks.

“What?”

“What did you do to your arm? Does it hurt?”

Spencer can barely breathe and he’s asking you if you’re okay. You can see the spots in his eyes. Fuck, he scared you.

“I’m fine,” you say softly, holding him by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?”

Your shoulder stings like you’d landed on glass and there’s an ache in your bones from the impact, but the source of your racing pulse is the look on his face, as though he might still pass out. You cringe at the sound of approaching footsteps, but it’s Morgan and Hotch making their way across the gravel top to help you. You turn back to Spencer in relief.

He takes another huge breath. “Good job,” you say quietly, but saccharinely, rubbing his poor chest. “Do you want to sit up?”

“I can’t.”

“Okay. Alright. Just take a breath.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” he croaks, putting his hand over your heart.

“I’m fine.”

“Just breathe.” He says your name like a secret. “Just breathe.”

Of course. He’s lying on the ground panting for his life and he’s telling you to calm down.

Morgan has the UnSub up and moving. Hotch kneels beside you both, face lined with poorly concealed stress. “You okay?” he asks. “Spencer?”

“She jumped across the roof.”

“Spencer.” You’re half wounded, half humoured.

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you both. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Spencer almost got choked out.”

Hotch looks as though he might give in and rub his face, but he pats your arm instead. “Okay. Reid, can you stand up?”

“Tell her she can’t– can’t jump across rooftops,” Spencer says, suddenly full of indignation as he pushes up onto his elbows. He looks like he’s been hung upside down and shook.

“Well, clearly I can.”

“L/N shouldn’t be jumping across rooftops for any reason, but you’re both…” Hotch smiles wryly. “I almost said unharmed.”

Spencer flops down onto his back. When he speaks, he sounds in a strange place, close to tears and laughing alike, “You have to look at her arm.”

“I think you both need to see a medic, but first, why don’t we all calm down. Let’s regain our senses, and prevent any further unnecessary pain.”

Spencer gives your leg an uncharacteristic whack. He’s so messed up from the chokehold that it’s more like a stroke, but you feel the tap for what it is. He’s saying Don’t do that to me again.

“He really was gonna kill you,” you say, sorry.

“I had it.”

“Respectfully, baby, you did not.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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inupibaldspot · 9 months ago

Text

Wingman ain’t subtle.

Paring: Gojo Satoru x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : This takes place when Gojo and the rest are students and you are one year senior/older than them

Gojo thinks today is a bad day.

“y/n-senpai apparently only dates guys older than her” Shoko says she sucks the drink from the straw. As much as she’d like to be smoking, it wasn’t allowed on campus.

The lollipop in Gojo’s mouth falls to the ground which makes Geto snort.

“Sucks to you Satoru.” He comments. “If only you were born a year or two before you’d have a chance.”

Gojo winches as he looks over to Shoko with eyes pleading that she was lying “For real?”

“Yeah.” Shoko and you shared being gifted with Reverse Cursed Technique so they’d spend a lot of time training together so the two were close.

Ever since he learned that fact, Gojo had Shoko be his wing man on learning to be and also learn about your type. She was hesitant at fist but oh boy! Gojo was so hopelessly in love with you she kinda felt bad. Shoko adds. “She thinks older guy make her feel protected.”

Gojo huffs, his stomach churns with jealousy. “I’m literally the strongest…” who else would you need to feel protected?

To add on the fact that learning about him having no chance with you because of the year he was born — ‘Satoru was spawn killed.’ Geto would add— he and his classmates had forgotten to put up a veil during a mission which triggered Yaga’s, their teacher in charge, wrath.

Yaga takes in a deep breath“How many times do I have to tell you to put up a veil ?!”

Gojo really couldn’t careless as his teacher yaps away and probably neither did both of his two friends. He could see Geto nod at times as if acting like he was taking Yaga’s word to heart and with Shoko dozing off with her eyes open.

He does his best to fight back a yawn as something suddenly grabs his attention. You. His eyes trail to you ,who was a year senior to him, walking along the hallway, revealed by the long strip of windows between the classroom and hall. Gojo thinks you’re the loveliest piece of existence in the planet as you gently tug a piece of hair behind as you talk with Utahime.

Feeling a piercing gaze — or maybe it was Yaga’s shouts— you look over inside the class as meet your eyes with beautiful vibrant blue ones of your junior, Gojo Satoru’s.

When you give him a smile and a small wave, you weren’t expecting him to straight up beam at your direction and full on wave as if a kid would wave at an airplane passing by.

Of course this angered Yaga further as a nerve pops on his forehead and hands clenched. “Pay attention, Satoru!” He swings his fist at the boy.

The impact of his teacher’s fist on him sends him flying. If he weren’t such a good student he would have actually used his limitless to block such hits but alas— it may not look like it but he was. “Sensei—! Hitting your students should be against the law.”

He sees Geto sent him an amused smirk and Shoko,who finally woke up, trying to figure out what was happening and to his horror, you were giggling at him. Not many things can make Gojo feel embarrassed but his crush laughing at him when he got hit was one of it.

Yup-! That’s exactly what he needed; his crushing laughing as he gets beat up and lectured by his teacher. His day was going fan-tas-tic!

The day goes on with with the remaining classes. Evening classes were usually training so Shoko was in infirmary with Gojo and Geto on the training grounds but one thing bother Gojo was that the ‘hit’ from Yaga earlier did leave an impact. The back of his head a aching and even made him jump when Geto applied the slightest bit of pressure.

Call him dramatic but he didn’t want the ache to go on further so there he was on his way to the infirmary. He really needed Shoko to patch him up.

He slides the door open as he starts to complain. “Shoko heal me up. Yaga’s hit really did some damage on me”

“You’re hurt?”

Hearing a voice which wasn’t Shoko’s and with almost a magic like ability to make his heart race grabbed his attention. He turns to see you who was near the storage cabinet as if you were arranging something.

“I- uhh…” Suddenly his throat constricted and he couldn’t speak. His face heats up as you tilt your head waiting for an answer as he clears his throat. “Just a bit, y/n.”

“Shoko is out though. She got called to assist in a mission. ” You smile as you sit on a near by chair, pulling another chair beside.

You smile at him as you pat the chair beside yours indicating him to sit down there which makes him tense up slightly but he does as told. “Also you should be calling me ‘senpai’. Utahime-senpai was complaining that youth these days have no manner.”

You laugh. “Now tell me where you’re hurt.”

He sits beside you as he tilts his head and points at his sore spot. “Here.”

Gojo watches you raise your hand and inspect his heat, the places where your fingers grazes heats up which makes him gulp deeply. You laugh as you see a swelling on his head. “Wow- Sensei really did hit you hard…”

The white haired boy relaxes as he he feels the calming sensation on his head which means you were using your technique of healing him. “Does age really matter that much?”

You hum as if thinking through your answer. “Of course. Even a year older means you’ve been in this world for a year longer. That in itself is commendable enough.”

“I heard from Shoko that you like guys older…” Gojo says no longer trying to contain the jealousy in his voice. “Is it because of the same reason?”

Gojo watches your eyes widen and blink in confusion; he thinks any expression you make is so so adorable. You then proceed to giggle. “Just because I dated people who are older than me doesn’t mean I have a type.”

Damn that Shoko probably messed around with her wording. Gojo curses as the girl made it seem you would only date guys older than her.

“For example…” You hum as you bring your finger up to your lips. “Right now I like a guy who is younger than me who never respects his elder.”

Hearing her words, every restrain in his body breaks free and Gojo stands up from his seat ; before he knows it his lips are on yours. He hold your face in place, cupping both side of his cheeks.

Gojo kisses you. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, as he runs his hands through your hair. His lips keep moving as if he had lost his mind; deep and urgent as if he couldn’t waste a single second.

Out of breath, he pulls away and looks at you who was breathing heavily and lips slightly plump from his desperate tugs and bites. He watches the same lips curl into a smile as you give him a teasing smile. “Also tell Shoko to quit being your wing man,Satoru. She isn’t quite subtle about it.”

Check out more of my work here !! <3

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo imagines #gojo satoru imagine #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk imagine #gojo Satoru x reader #gojo x y/n

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lovie-bugzz · 5 months ago

Text

train ride ┊fred weasley

pairing - bsf!fred x f!reader (first person pov)

summary - The train compartment had gotten a bit crowded on the way to Hogwarts, so your best friend Fred offered for you to sit in his lap. However, throughout the ride you just couldn't seem to get comfortable...

contains - smut, dom!Fred, swearing, fingering, orgasm denial, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), teasing, hair pulling, rough sex, cum swallowing

✯ ━━━━━━ ✿ ✫ ✿ ━━━━━━ ✯

The twins and I were laughing about something stupid that George had said as the train left the station. I lightly hit the boy in the arm, "Shut up!" I say between laughter.

After we had calmed down, Fred spoke up, "Let's go meet up with Lee and the girls." He said, referring to Alicia and Angelina. The six of us had been a tight knit group since first year, and it now being our sixth year, it was safe to say that we were all extremely close.

George and I agreed, and so the three of us began our trek down the aisles of the train, looking into each of the compartments. Once we found them, we squeezed into the small room, greeting one another.

As the three of us sat down, it began to be a tad bit cramped, with Lee and Alicia taking up the whole of one side, Fred and I had to squeeze in beside Angelina and George.

I pushed past how uncomfortable I was as Lee started a conversation, asking, "Do any of you have a clue as to what's happening at Hogwarts this year?"

"No! Mum's been going ballistic and nobody will tell us what's going on." George told them, Fred nodding along, "Yeah, it's like all the adults are keeping this giant secret."

The topic continued for about twenty minutes, everyone butting in with their own theories as the what was happening. I couldn't really pay attention as I was severely uncomfortable, being pressed in between Fred's shoulder and the window, my arms were pretty much completely constricted.

Fred glanced over at me, with a crease in his brow, noticing how squashed and uncomfortable I was, he leant down slightly to speak to me, "You alright, love?"

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine, it's just a bit cramped in here." I told him, brushing it off. The boy chuckled lightly, shaking his head, before suddenly he pulled me up by my waist, and placed me in his lap.

I was a bit surprised at first, my eyes going wide for a split second until I let out a small sigh of relief at now finally being able to move my arms. I turned back slightly with a light chuckle and gave him a thankful nod, to which he returned with a cheeky smile.

For a while, everything was fine, I was comfortable and laughing along with the lively conversations in the compartment. But that stopped when I started to squirm a bit, causing Fred to still, letting out a quiet groan, which I didn't quite catch.

I stopped after a moment, finding a comfortable stop on his lap, making the boy let out an inaudible sigh of relief. His attention was brought back to the conversation for a mere minute before I started moving my hips again, finding my spot atop him to be growing more and more uncomfortable the longer I sat here.

One movement I made in particular had my ass digging right into his now hardening bulge. He harshly grabbed my hips, halting my movements which made me jump a bit at the sudden contact.

The boy leaned forward towards my ear, whispering lightly so the others wouldn't hear, "love, if you don't stop that, we're going to have an issue..." He said, his voice had a sudden rasp to it. The unfamiliar tone sent a shiver down my spine, my eyes widening as I realized what I had been doing, and a deep red blush settled on my cheeks.

I was glad the others weren't paying attention to us, they were too encapsulated by their own conversations.

It was an innocent mistake, I was only trying to get comfortable, forgetting that I was literally sitting on top of Fred's dick and squirming around. I turned back slightly, to look at him, as I whispered back, "Do you want me to move?" I asked, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

He rose a brow at me, a smirk on his face, "You moving is the problem, love." He joked, making me roll my eyes at him, the blush on my cheeks deepening further. He spoke again, this time with a more serious note, "I just need you to stop fidgeting so much, okay?"

He moved one of his hands from my waist to my thigh, his hand casually resting on my inner thigh, his touch causing my skin to tingle. I turned back around, "Fine..." I spoke, innocently looking out the window, making sure I didn't move anymore.

I watched the trees and landscape fly past us, but I couldn't keep the thoughts out of my head. Of what would happen if I did move again. It was definitely tempting, I bit my lip as dirty thoughts made their way into my head. But I shook them away just as quickly as they came. What was I doing? Fred is my best friend, I can't be thinking about him like this.

But on the other hand, it was tempting. So, after about another minute or two of contemplation in my head, I decided to test the waters.

Pretending like I had forgotten our prior conversation, I just slightly moved my hips against his. The boy let out a cough, as if clearing his throat, but I knew better. I stifled my smirk, before moving again, this time the tiniest bit harder. He sucked in a breath, glaring at the back of my head.

He knew exactly what I was doing, but he couldn't do anything, no matter how badly he wanted to, not with his brother and friends in the same compartment. So, he subtlety pinched my waist, as a warning, which sort of backfired on him as it only made me squirm more, my ass hitting exactly the right spot to rile him up.

I could feel it, the effect I had on him, how could I not? It was digging into my ass. The boy grit his teeth, leaning up a bit to whisper to me, "You're playing a dangerous game, love..." He spoke lowly, but I only shrugged, feigning innocence, my hips moving hard against him, making him groan as I turned to give him a smug smile, "I don't know what you're on about." I say simply, turning back around and making sure my movements stayed completely still.

Fred chuckled lowly, throwing his head back against the seat, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. He was clearly frustrated that I stopped, and I couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction.

About five minutes had gone by, I was so busy basking in glory that I almost missed how Fred gripped my hips and stood us up.

"We're going to go find the trolley. Do any of you want anything?" Fred spoke, asking the others. I was confused by this, but didn't make any move to protest as I was too focused on how hard the boy behind me was grabbing my hips.

Everyone shared a glance before Lee spoke, "No, we're good."

Fred nodded before moving us forward and pushing us out of the compartment and letting the door slide closed behind us. He loosened his tight grip on my hips, but kept them resting there as he pushed me forward to walk down the corridor.

I had no doubt in my mind that he was keeping me so close in front of him to hide his boner. I let a smug smile wash over my face at the situation, but it was quickly washed off my face as my arm was suddenly being tugged into the bathroom. I gasped as Fred pulled us into the small room, slamming the door shut, locking it and then proceeding to push me flush against it.

I stared up at him with wide eyes as he towered over me, the dark look in his eyes making me squirm against the door. He rested his arms on either side of me, effectively trapping me in place between him and the door. He leaned in close, his nose almost touching mine, his eyes roaming hungrily over my face.

"You didn't think you were actually gonna get away with that did you?" The boy asked. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Playing with fire like that, teasing me in the train compartment with our friends around."

I couldn't answer, my words failing on me as my mouth opened and closed like a blubbering fish.

Fred smirked at my reaction to his intense gaze. He pressed his body more firmly against mine, leaving me no escape. His hands moved from the door to my hips, keeping me in place, his grip tight enough to leave slight indents on my skin from his long fingers. He rose a taunting brow at me, "Cat got your tongue, love? You were quite the little minx a few minutes ago. What happened?"

I was in such a state of shock, not knowing what to say, my cheeks were burning. As soon as he had pulled me into the bathroom all of my confidence went down the drain. The way he was looking down at me hungrily, his lust filled eyes staring into my soul, it made my knees weak.

Fred chuckled low in his throat, noticing the effect he was having on me. His smirk turned into a sly grin, his eyes drinking in the sight of my flushed cheeks and the way my body was practically trembling against his.

"Not so cocky now, are you? Just a few minutes ago you were teasing me to no end, knowing exactly what it would do to me. But now..." He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above my ear, his voice dropping to a low, sultry whisper. "Now you're trembling beneath my touch, and it's driving me mad."

His hot breath fanning over my ear made me let out a shaky breath, I turned my head slightly to look at him. "Fred..." I breathed out, my eyes flickering down to his lips as I bit down on my own. The air in this small bathroom was thick, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

Fred's eyes darkened as he watched my gaze linger on his lips. His gaze zeroed in on my biting down on my own lip, a sight so tempting that it took all his self-control to not attack my mouth in that very moment. He chuckled softly, the sound rough and filled with desire.

"Say my name again." He commanded, his voice a low, gravelly whisper, as he moved his face closer to mine, his breath mingling with mine in the cramped space between us. He smirked, loving the effect he was having on me. He thrived off of it.

I did as he said, breathing out his name once more, "Fred..." I was getting desperate, I needed him to do something.

Fred's eyes darkened with desire as he heard me say his name again, the tone of my voice making his self-control waver even more. He smiled slightly, enjoying the power he held over me in this moment. He knew I wanted him to do something, but he wasn't going to give in that easily. He loved having me at his mercy, the look of want in my eyes making him feel powerful, and making him want me even more.

"You want something, love?" He asked, his voice low and seductive, as he took a piece of my hair and delicately placed it behind my ear.

I nodded, "Mhm." I hummed out, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. My desire for him was clouding my head.

Fred smirked down at me, the look in my eyes fueling his arrogance and ego. He slowly moved a hand from my waist to my chin, his fingers gently gripping it and tilting it up slightly, forcing me to maintain eye contact with him.

"Use your words, love. Tell me what you want, and maybe I'll give it to you." He teased.

"I want..." I trail off, my voice failing on me. I cleared my throat, looking up at him, "I want you to kiss me."

Fred was consumed by desire and need, the moment I uttered those words he couldn't hold back anymore. He practically lunged at me, capturing my lips in a rough and needy kiss, full of pent-up passion and desperation. My arms went to circle around his neck, but before I could, he quickly took hold of my wrists, pinning them above me with one hand, holding them firmly against the door.

I let out a gasp at the action, which he took full advantage of by plunging his tongue into my mouth, exploring every inch of it, tasting me, claiming me as his own. His free hand wandered down my body, tracing every curve and contour, making me moan around his tongue.

Fred swallowed my moan, the sound only adding to his hunger and desire. He was intoxicated by me, my gasps and sighs fueling his need to have all of me. He continued to explore my body with his hand, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

He broke the kiss, panting slightly, only to attack my neck with his lips and tongue, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive flesh, determined to leave his mark on me.

"Oh, fuck..." I whined as I felt him bite down on my neck, turning my head slightly to give him better access. My arms squirming in his tight hold.

Fred continued his assault on my neck, he released a low growl, his hold on my wrists tightening as he felt me squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying my reaction to his touch. He nipped and sucked, leaving behind a trail of red marks on my neck.

I shivered as he blew cold air over the tender skin, before speaking into my neck, "You're so sensitive."

I couldn't respond, too caught up in the pleasure, but my eyes suddenly widened as I felt his fingers start playing with the waistband of my pants, running against the skin of my lower stomach. I bit my lip in anticipation, and I could feel Fred smirking against my neck when he noticed.

His fingers continued to toy with the waistband of my pants, occasionally slipping beneath it, teasing the sensitive flesh of my stomach, but not going any further than my panty line. I squirmed in his hold, getting impatient.

He broke away from my neck for a moment to look down at me, and the look in his eyes was pure desire and hunger. "You're so pretty like this, love." He whispered, his voice rough with need.

I continued to squirm in his hold, the way he was still holding my arms against the door was maddening. "Please, Fred... Touch me, please." I whined, desperately.

Fred only chuckled evilly, "Why should I, love? You been teasing me all day, testing my patience." He taunted, his fingers continued to toy with the waistband of my pants, occasionally dipping below the fabric, only to slide back out again, teasing me.

"I'm sorry... I won't tease you anymore, just please. I need it." I pleaded, pushing my hips closer to him. The way his fingers were brushing just above where I needed him was making me even more desperate with desire.

His hand moved from my waistband to my hip, gripping it tightly and forcing me back onto the door. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above mine, his words a hot whisper against my mouth. "You're a needy little thing, aren't you? Begging for me like this."

I let out a whimper, nodding at his words as my head rolled against the door. "What do you want, love? Tell me what you need. I want to hear you say it." He said, his voice low and sultry.

"Your fingers. I need them inside of me." I answered, making him chuckle from my blunt response.

"Is that so, hm?" He murmured, his hand trailing away from my hip and moving between my legs to rub me through my pants. I whined at the sensation, finally getting some friction. "You want my fingers, do you? You want me to make you feel good, make you cum?"

I couldn't help but moan from his words, that combined with how he was touching me sent heat over my body. I nodded again, "Yes, please."

"That's a good girl, using your words and asking nicely. I like that." He teased, his fingers moving up to unbutton my pants, pulling them slowly, exposing more of my skin. He began trailing his fingers over the top of my panties, his touch was light and teasing.

He leaned in closer, his lips grazing my ear, as he whispered, "Are you wet for me, love?"

I shivered, nodding my head, "So wet, just for you, Fred." I told him, my arms squirming in his hold once more, I wanted to touch him so badly.

He chuckled darkly at my unsuccessful attempts to break free of his grip, he only tightened his hold on my wrists. He could feel how much I wanted to touch him, but he wasn't done making me a needy mess just yet.

"Is that so?" He whispered, his voice thick with desire, as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of my panties, gently touching my bare skin, feeling just how aroused I was.

My breathing stuttered as his fingers trailed over my wetness, spreading it over my throbbing clit, causing me to moan loudly. Fred smirked in satisfaction at the sound of my moans, he loved how I was reacting to his touch, how he was reducing me to a moaning mess with just his fingers.

"Shhh, love. You're being too loud. You don't want anyone to hear us, do you? I don't think you want everyone to know just how needy you are for me, how desperate you are for my touch." He whispered, continuing to tease me, his fingers rubbing and circling over my bundle of nerves.

I nodded, biting my lip to stop myself from being too loud, but that went down the drain as I felt him slip two fingers inside of me. I practically screamed at the force with which they entered me. "Fuck!"

Fred chuckled as my reaction to his fingers entering me, it was louder than he initially thought, he quickly dropped his hold from my wrists and moved his hand to cover my mouth, effectively muffling my scream into a mewl.

"Shhh, love. You really can't keep quiet, can you?" He teased, his voice thick as he continued pumping his fingers inside me at a fast pace.

I moaned against his hand, my own hands that were finally free gripping onto his wrist that was moving inside of me. My eyes rolling back in my head as I felt him add a third finger, stretching me out.

"Oh, fuck, love. You're fucking swallowing my fingers." Fred groaned out, curling his fingers inside me, hitting that perfect spot that had that familiar coil in my stomach forming.

I was so close, and I knew he could tell by the way I was clenching around his digits. My breathing was coming out ragged, I was panting against his hand as he continued to hit my g-spot over and over again. My orgasm was right there, I was tipping over the edge until suddenly, Fred took his fingers out of me.

I let out a squeal in protest against his hand, but Fred only chuckled at me, as he dropped his hand from my mouth, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Why... Why did you stop?" I panted out, watching as he placed his three fingers that were dripping in my slick in his mouth, sucking me off of them.

He hummed around his fingers, pulling them out of his mouth with a pop, I stared at him in shock as he responded, "Oh, now, love. You didn't think I was going to let you finish just like that, did you? Not after how naughty you've been all day." He teased, a smirk on his lips.

I let out a huff, throwing my head back against the door, frustrated from being denied my release. But my ears perked up as I heard him undoing his belt, making me look back at him.

"Patience, love." He said, undoing his belt and quickly unzipping his pants. "Good things come to those who wait, remember?" He taunted me, slowly letting his pants fall to the ground, and stepping out of them, leaving him in his boxers.

I stared down at the obvious tent, the one that I had created, I bit my lip watching as he paced towards me, pulling me toward him and kissing me hard.

The kiss was more rough and needy than our previous one, we were breathing heavily into it, devouring each other. My hands trailed into his hair, as his trailed down and squeezed my ass, and I moaned as I felt his hard on press against my lower stomach.

In one swift movement he broke the kiss, turning me around and bending me over the sink. He ran his hands over my back, before harshly pulling my underwear down my legs. His hands ran possessively over my hips.

I looked over my shoulder at him, watching as he pushed his boxers down, freeing his length, my eyes widened at the size. "Shit..." I muttered out.

Fred smirked at my reaction, "See something you like, love?" He teased, making my eyes snap up to meet his gaze.

"You're... So big." I spoke, almost cringing at myself, but I couldn't help it. Fred chuckled at my bluntness, he loved how I was so honest and open with my words, not like most girls he'd been with.

"Don't worry, love. I'll make you feel good." He reassured me as his hands stroked my thighs, moving up and down my skin in a soothing motion.

I bit my lip, nodding my head, the way he could be so rough with me one second, and the next be so comforting was making my head dizzy.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He murmured as his hands slowly moved higher up my thighs, nearing my bare core. I shivered at his words, his touch making me more needy.

He bent down slightly, placing a kiss on my hip before he went back up, spreading my legs a bit more and started lining himself up with my entrance, running his dick through my wet folds, making me whine.

"You ready?" He asked, to which I nodded, but that seemed to not be good enough because Fred gripped my hip tightly, "No. I need a yes." He growled, as I let out a shaky breath.

"Yes..." I responded, making him smirk.

"Good girl." He praised, before slamming into me, instantly bottoming out, making me scream out his name, "Fuck, Fred!"

My hands gripped tightly onto the edges of the sink, the boy behind me panted heavily as he began to relentlessly pound into me, "Oh, fuck. So fucking tight, love." He spoke, his words adding to the amount of pleasure I was in.

The sound of our skin slapping together, our heavy breathing and moans filled the small bathroom, if anyone walked passed the door they would have no doubt about what was going on in here. "Feel good, love?" Fred questioned, but I could only moan in response.

Fred growled at this, his hand roughly latched onto my hair, pulling me flush against his chest, speaking lowly in my ear, "Huh? I asked you a question."

"Yes! Yes, feels so- Fuck- So good!" I stuttered out, my eyes rolling in the back of my head. The way he pulled on my hair was intoxicating, it was painful, but the pleasure it gave me completely overpowered it.

His free hand trailed up the front of my shirt, pushing it up over my bra, before pushing that up as well. He squeezed my boob in his hand, lightly pinching my nipple, making me whimper.

"Yeah? You like how I fuck you, don't you? You're taking me so well." He praised, his hips stuttering a bit, so he took his hand away from my boob, pulling out for a moment to grab my thigh and rest it atop the edge of the sink.

After he readjusted me, he pushed my back down again, still keeping his strong grip in my hair, before thrusting back into me. "Yes!" I moaned out, the new angle allowing him to hit my g-spot, and his balls to slap my clit repeatedly.

I knew if he kept up this pace I wasn't gonna last much longer, plus I was still a bit sensitive from him denying me my orgasm before. "Fuck, this pussy is all mine." He groaned, his voice hoarse.

"Yes! Oh, fuck it's yours! All yours!" I said in between moans. I was a mess, beginning to clench tightly around him as I felt myself nearing release.

Fred moaned as he felt me squeezing him, "You close, love? Gonna cum?" He taunted, picking up his pace, which I wasn't sure was even possible.

"Yes! So close." I said, my voice cracking.

"Cum then, cum all over my cock." Fred commanded. It didn't take long after his words for my release to wash over me, my eyes rolled back as I let out a guttural moan, my legs shaking as he continued to pound into me, letting me ride out my high.

I felt Fred twitch inside of me before he spoke, "Shit, shit..." He moaned, swiftly pulling out of me, "On your knees." He demanded, his voice low and authoritative. I instantly complied, moving off the sink and getting on my knees in front of him, "Open your mouth for me, love." He said, prompting me to listen, I opened wide, staring up at him as he jerked off above me.

He groaned at the sight of me below him, throwing his head back, as he hovered his tip over my tongue, "You look so good down there." He said, before letting out a guttural moan, and releasing in my mouth.

I moaned as his cum shot out onto my tongue, the salty taste making me hum in pleasure. "Fuck..." He trailed off, his hand slowing on himself as he milked himself dry.

I closed my mouth, swallowing his seed, making him stare down at me darkly, before harshly pulling me up to my feet. "Such a good girl for me." He praised once more, holding my cheek in his hand before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.

As he pulled away, he gave me a loving look, "Was that okay, love? I didn't go to hard did I?" He asked, making my heart melt. "No, that was... Perfect." I told him, it still baffled me how he could be so rough and dominant and then switch to being so caring and comforting.

He chuckled, "Good." He said, moving away from me to pull his boxers back up and put his pants on. As he did I adjusted my bra and pulled my shirt down, before bending down as well to put my own pants on, but I stopped short when I felt the sudden pain in my legs, making me wobble a bit.

"Woah." Fred spoke, going forward and grabbing my waist to steady me, "You alright?"

"Yeah... My legs just hurt a bit." I told him. Fred smirked at that, making me shoot him a glare, and lightly slap him on the chest. "Shut up."

He rose his hands in mock surrender, "I didn't say anything." I just shook my head at him, trying to bend down again, but he stopped me, "Let me help you."

I watched him as he bent down, slowly pulling up my underwear, then my pants, even buttoning them for me. I gave him a smile as he stood back up, and pecked my lips. "Thanks."

"For what? The sex, or helping you put your clothes back on?" He joked, making me roll my eyes. "Fred." I warned him, making him chuckle. "Okay, okay. I'll stop." He said, as he buckled his belt, while I adjusted my hair, trying to make it look like Fred's hands weren't just gripping and tugging on it a few minutes ago.

"Do you think they'll know?" I asked, making him look at me. He glanced down at my neck, specifically the hickeys that littered every inch of my skin. He stifled his smirk, "Considering the amount of hickeys I left on you... No, they'll have no clue." He said, sarcastically.

I groaned before we both looked at each other, and instantly broke out into laughter. This was definitely not how I thought this day would go when I woke up this morning, but I couldn't complain.

✯ ━━━━━━ ✿ ✫ ✿ ━━━━━━ ✯

masterlist

#fred weasley #fred weasley smut #smut #harry potter smut #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfic #oneshot #imagine #fred weasley imagine #fanfic #smut fanfic #weasley smut #weasley twins #weasley twins smut #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins fanfic

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pearlymel · 2 months ago

Text

A baby ?!

Summery: his departure always bugs you, and surprise, it was just your lil hormones messing with you.

Wc: 3.4k

Warnings: Fem!reader, sfw because we decided to be sweet, pregnancy, reader is pregnant, there are some suggestive comments but that's all. Happy ending because i love yall.

Part one and two if you missed it my loves.

Notes: welcome to part 3 which i believe is the last part. I am kindly asking not to ask for a part 4 because i have run out of ideas. If i ever decided to write for capitano again, it wouldn't be part of this series, it would be like headcanons instead, you could imagine the reader being the same, apologies for spelling errors and thank you. :)

Credits: the art of the left panel is by @/reaperpie

Fall was slowly approaching in Snezhnaya, and you had already expected it to be colder than the normal autumn. Which to your bad luck, it was not a suitable place for your picnic’s.

Your husband has continuesly rejected your date ideas, but you expected that anyway, you knew he couldn’t. He had duties to attend to, responsibilities to the Fatui, to the Tsaritsa, to the world. He couldn’t stay, as much as you—he wanted to.

It's not fair, You think while pouting as you stare outside the window with your chin resting on the palm of your hand, looking like a princess in need to be rescued from the tower. Your thumb toying with the diamond ring resting around your ring finger.

“Ugh, it's unfair baby.” You slump back on the bed, while your little fur baby only meowed at you in return, the orange cat jumping on the bed to make itself warm on your lap. “meow back if he doesn't love me.”

You're met with silence, only happy purrs reach your ears, and you grin, “obviously he loves me, obsessed even.” Your hand reaches to slowly pat the kitty.

“I miss him.” You sigh dreamily, deciding to stand up while carrying kitty with you so it doesn't feel left out. You make your way towards the desk in the corner, pulling the seat to take your place before pushing yourself closer to the desk.

You rest the kitten on your lap again—who quickly adjusts like nothing happened, looking as sleepy as ever.

You open the drawers to take an envelope, some wax, a stamp, a paper, and a quill.

Yeah, you're going to write him a letter, he said he didn't mind recieving even hundreds of letters from you.

How romantic.

“Dear, husband.” You start, dipping the quill in ink to brush it along the neat surface of the paper.

“i miss you.” you narrow your eyes at the empty page, saying that you miss him felt too boring.

“i utterly miss being next to you.” Hm, it lacks excitement.

“Please come back soon or i will run away.” Huh, you could already imagine the army's he would send to search for you.

“i want you inside—” okay, now you're being desperate.

You rest your arms on the desk, leaning your head on them while sighing.

—

“Do you know when will he return?” You politely ask one of the guards in front of the estate’s gate. Your hands together behind your back.

A leaf flew by in front of the guards with still no answer from them, and you narrow your eyes, wondering if they even heard you in the first place.

Finally, one of them shook their head and you only sigh in resignation, “thank you.” You mumble before heading your way back inside the estate.

It has been more than two weeks since he left, and he would sometimes send you neat letters to inform you about his well being, but the last letter you received was about a week ago, it was worrying you.

“My lady, are you okay?” Your personal maid, Marina, asked out of concern, watching you put an apron with a frown plastered on your face.

“Just hungry.” You take the glassy bowl, eggs, flour, butter, and sugar. Then you set them on the table. “I can help you.” Marina stands next to you, taking the butter to melt it.

“you want to make cookies, correct?” She asks, and you nod with a small smile. With the butter fully melted, you begin mixing in the sugar, beating the mixture until it becomes light and fluffy. The repetitive motion of stirring is almost meditative, and for a brief moment. “Baking is rather calming, i should've tried it before.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, a knowing smile on her face. "Yes, baking can be quite therapeutic," she stated, watching as you mixed the sugar and butter together. "I've found that working with your hands, especially when it involves creating something good to eat, is a great way to clear your mind," she continued, adding chocolate to the bowl.

You had both finished combining the ingredients, and the room was now filled with the warm, comforting fragrance of cookie dough. Marina stood beside you, watching as you shaped the dough into small balls and placed them on a baking tray. As you finished placing the last cookie onto the tray, you and Marina stood together, admiring the array of small, round cookies waiting to be baked in the oven.

The sounds of the gates opening is what catches your attention next, making you stand up from your chair to immediately abandon the kitchen and rush towards the entrance, your eyes searches him when you reach the front door, and surely enough, your husband has arrived.

He looked almost disheveled, tired, yet he still held a straight posture.

Capitano's weary eyes widened behind his helmet as you rushed into his arms, his body stiffening as if caught off guard by your sudden affection. But the tension in his form swiftly melted away as he wrapped his strong arms around you. His grip was tight, as he pulled you against his body. He was silent for a moment, his chin resting on the top of your head, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he held you.

“I…” you want to break the silence, you want to tell him how much you missed him. “I missed you.”

Capitano's grip intensified as your voice reached his ears, he was more than relieved to hear those words. To know that somone dear is waiting for him, someone as precious as you that he's willing to risk his life for.

He exhaled deeply, "I missed you too," he whispered, making sure the words only reached your ears. He pulled back slightly to look down at you, his gaze raking over you as if to confirm you were real and not a trick of his tired mind.

Capitano allowed you to lead him inside afterwards, his hand careful to be gentle when holding yours. The weariness in his body was evident as he stumbled a bit as you pulled him along. However, he matched your pace as best he could, following obediently as you guided him to your chambers.

Being greeted by the familiar room before him made his shoulders relax, the only place where he can be himself.

"How was is it? Being away from your wife for more than two weeks?" You ask while your hands started working on helping him out of the thick layers of his heavy, dirty clothing. Each layer you removed revealed more of his muscular, battle-worn physique, the scars and marks on his body a testament to the dangers he had faced.

He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he noticed your pout. He reached out a calloused hand and gently tugged at your lip, "It was a long two weeks," he admitted gruffly. "I have missed you sorely.”

“I'm sure you did,” you hummed, walking towards the closest to grab a sweater for him. "Don't pout like that," he chided gently, "You're making me feel guilty.”

You try hiding your smile when you hand him his new warm clothes, your arms crossing next, “as you should.”

"I've missed that pout," his lowers his voice, "but I don't miss your little attitude.”

You shrug, “i don't know what you're talking about.” Capitano's gaze held yours unflinchingly, his eyes studying your expression. He knew you were baiting him, daring him to guess your reason for being upset.

"Let me see.." he started, his voice taking on a tone of mock contemplation. "Perhaps it's the fact that I was gone for more than two weeks and left you here all alone. That's a start, is it not?”

“maybe.”

"Or perhaps it's the fact that I didn't send you a letter everyday and left you wondering about whether I was alright or not. Hmm, that could be it, couldn't it?”

“Go on.” your raise your eyebrow while tapping your feet impatiently.

"Or maybe," he stepped closer, taking a few strands of your hair in between his fingers, "It's because I didn't come home and ravish you as soon as I returned, instead letting you pout and sulk and complain like a spoiled little thing.”

He could see right through you; the way you suddenly straightened your stance and tried to act nonchalant only confirmed his suspicions.

You gasp, ”whaaaat? Nonsense.”

"Is that so?" he drawled, his hands now taking your upper arms, his thumb thumbs rubbing circles around your skin "i will make it up to you, my wife.”

Despite his promise that you could do later, you wanted him to rest more than anything, so you make him sit down on the bed while you leave to get the cookies you baked together with Marina.

“You have to tell me your opinion.” you hand him one of the chocolate chip cookies. Capitano let the taste of the chocolate chips and the buttery cookie dough settle on his tongue for a moment. He swallowed, his gaze still fixed on you, before giving his verdict.

"They're good," he admitted, "Better than good, actually. Well done.”

Praise kink goes crazy huh? Your smile widens, and it makes you feel all giddy, as you took a bite of the cookies as well.

He leaned back against the plush bedding of the bed, his strong arms resting on his lap as he observed you. "You've been busy while I was away, hm?"

“Not really, more bored than busy.”

“… i am sorry. I do not mean to leave you alone.”

You scoot closer to him once you see how guilty he looks, you sit next to him, your head resting on his shoulder. “When do you have to leave again?”

Capitano's silence spoke volumes, pausing before answering, "My duties are unpredictable, and there's no telling when the Tsaritsa will call for me again. I cannot give you an exact timeline, and that is the reality of what I do. I am a warrior first, a husband second.”

Ouch, that's fine. Totally fine.

You knew what you were getting into when you married him, after all. Still, a part of you couldn't help but wish for more. The thought kind of makes you sick… quite literally.

“I think the cookies had too much sugar.” You put the dessert back on the plate before standing up from the bed. “Shall i go get you wate—”

“no, thank you. I can do it.”

—

You were rotting in bed. From the morning, and now it's afternoon. It makes you feel useless since you barely did anything.

Capitano left before you woke up, even though he promised to return later today.

You felt miserable, your body weak and your spirits low. It was a mixture of loneliness, hormones, and the unease bubbling in your stomach. Capitano's absence only made it worse, adding to the feeling of helplessness that had settled upon you.

You tossed and turned in the bed, the plush sheets tangling up around you as you tried to find a comfortable position. But no matter how much you shifted, the discomfort in your stomach remained, persistent and nagging.

“Make the pain go please, I'll take any disgusting medicine,” you tell Marina weakly as you look up at her while she sat on the wooden stool next to you.

"I can give you some ginger root. It might help soothe your stomach.” she offered gently, handing you the ginger root she prepared just for you.

“… i lied i can't take anything disgusting.”

Marina chuckled softly at your admission, "I thought so," she said, setting aside the ginger root. “Have you considered telling Lord Capitano?”

You shake your head, “not that he's here. It's not that important.” you cover half of your face with the blanket, “why though? Isn't it just a normal cold from the change of weather?”

It was clear that you were trying to downplay the severity of your symptoms, perhaps not wanting to worry anyone or admit that something might be seriously wrong.

"Dearest, it's not just a cold," she chided gently, "the symptoms you're describing are not typical of a mere cold.”

You frown, “is it not?”

She shook her head, her voice soft but serious. "No, it's not. The nausea, the fatigue, the changes in appetite...these are all common symptoms of something else." Shee paused for a moment, "my lady, have you considered the possibility that you might be... Pregnant?”

You immediately rise from the bed, sitting down with eyes wide to stare at her, "what? Pregnant?” you ask in shock.

"I shall ask for a healer right away, my lady.”

—

You stare outside the window at the dark skies, although your eyes fixated on the gates opening, indicating his arrival.

You almost flinch when he dashes inside your shared chambers, taking his helmet off but not bothering to take the rest off before he's gently grabbing you by your arms.

“where?” He asks urgently, “where are you injured? Who did it? Do not hesitate to tell me.” He says in a dangerously sharp tone, his eyes searching for even a single scratch on your body.

“what… are you talking about?” You raise an eyebrow, and your unbothered state made him confused. “the healers were here, yet you're not injured?” he blinked before sighing, his hands caressing your arms instead, “then why? Are you sick?”

“Sick… no not sick.” You tell him, your hands ever so gentle taking a hold of his face, “… but pregnant. I'm pregnant.”

You both stare at eachother, both of you holding your breaths. You have never seen him so distracted, like he didn't hear you the first time.

Does he hate it? You never thought of the possibility.

“Capit—” before you could continue, he's down in one knee and you're bewildered, unsure of what to do.

“you're carrying our child.” he utters out so softly that you think you might tear up—and you really are in the verge of tears. He takes your hand, he's held your hand many times, but this time it feels different, he holds you like you're glass, he's so careful with it.

“I swear to protect you both, and put you both first. Should anyone hurt you, i will not hesitate to draw my sword, if i ever hurt you… then you should not hesitate to draw your sword on me.” his words hung in the air like a sacred vow.

You tried to speak, to respond, but only a soft gasp escaped your lips. Tears welled in your eyes, and you could only stare at him, utterly overwhelmed.

Capitano's gaze softened even more as he saw the tears falling down your face. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, his hand still holding yours in a gentle but firm grip, he reached out with the other hand, his large palm cupping your cheek to brush your tears away. “Don't cry, I'm here.”

His embrace, so warm, so protective around you that it eases every single thought in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. With him, it will.

—

Months passed in a blur of morning sickness, cravings, and blossoming excitement for the new life growing inside you. Capitano, as promised, was by your side through it all and he went away for more than a week.

He attended to your every need, from getting up in the middle of the night to find the most ridiculous late-night snack, to comforting you on days when you felt overwhelmed by the changes happening to your body.

You rest back against the bed’s headboard while tracing random shapes on the skin of your swollen belly, a hum of some sort of song followed after. You stop once you hear the sound of slow footsteps, catching your husband freeze.

“I'm sorry, i didn't mean to stalk you like that—”

“you're so silly. Come here, honey.” You pat on your empty side with a smile, inviting him to share this moment you.

Capitano took his place next to you then continued watching as you gently caressed your belly, tracing over the stretch marks with your fingers.

“They're beautiful, you know.” he speaks first, as if sensing what you were about to say. “Beautiful?” You repeat. He lifted your hand to his lips, gently pressing a kiss on your knuckles before he replied, his voice a soft murmur. "Yes, beautiful. They're a sign of life growing within you. A sign of strength. Of creation. That's beautiful.” he continues his trail of kisses to your arm up to your shoulder, “I want to kiss every inch of you, stretch mark or not.”

You've come so far with him that it feels surreal, it feels right, “i love you.” You whisper to him, turning your attention to him again. “I love you.” he doesn't hesitate to say it back, the declaration coming out of his tongue smoothly like it was meant to be.

His hand then moved to your growing bump, "and I love this," he added. “This?” You giggle.

"Mhm," Capitano confirmed, his hand now rubbing your belly in slow, soothing circles. "This. Our baby." His eyes flickered up to yours, "We created this," he continued, his voice with pride and awe. "Our love made this.”

Love.

—

Were toddlers always this fast? Because one second he keeps an eye on her then the next he looks around before she's gone right from infront of him.

He was supposed to play tea party, but a little butterfly flying creature must've caught her attention.

Capitano, despite his size and strength, found himself struggling to keep up with your energetic three-year-old daughter.

He chuckled as he chased her around the garden, his large frame a stark contrast to her small, fleeting form. As she ran past you, you couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight of your husband's face, "almost got her," he panted out, his hand on his knee as he attempted to catch his breath.

“You got this old man!” You decide to tease him from behind, laughing endlessly from the sight. Though he shot you a mock glare through his labored breaths, “old man, huh?" he grumbled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I'm old now, do you?" he continued, raising an eyebrow playfully. "I'll show you 'old,' darling." With that, he took a step further to sweep you off your feet, carrying you effortlessly in his arms, and your smile only widens.

“Me!” Your little girl raises both of her arms at her father, and he kneels down to carry her in his other arm. Now carrying you both in each arm.

“Oh, how strong.” You tease, poking at his bicep and he shakes his head almost shyly, “papa, butterfly.” Your daughter proceeds to show you both the butterfly she caught, the little creature doesn't seem scared of her as it rests on her tiny fingers.

“Looks pretty,” Capitano smiled, his expression amused as your daughter leaned toward the butterfly, attempting to kiss it. "Careful now," he warned gently. "Don't scare it away." He watched as the butterfly fluttered its delicate wings at her attempt and she giggles.

"You have to be gentle," he told her, his voice soft. "Just like how you handle the kittens.”

She gasps, suddenly remembering the cat that's half asleep on the grass with the three of you. “Kitty!” She shouts at the cat, jumping off Capitano’s arm so suddenly that it makes him gasp, worried that she might’ve injured herself.

“she's fine.” You pat your husband's chest and just like that, he's relaxed again. “i think our cat is tired of her sometimes.” You get down as well, watching how your daughter carried the lazy cat in her arms to run in circles with her. The cat that grew within these years, from a mere kitten to a big cat now.

"I think we should just be glad the cat hasn't hissed at her or swatted her yet," he sighed, and you hum in reply, “i don't think it ever will. That cat has been clinging to my belly ever since i was pregnant. Kept me warm i must admit.”

You grin when your daughter runs back to both of you, carrying the cat in the air, it's eyes almost closed, unbothered, "meow."

Tags: @duchessofherself @itsjustnikkixoxo @erasme143 @yvesswoo @mooshbb @bigboygoose

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

Text

As promised: more roommate!james

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Thunder crashes. A branch from the tree outside smacks into your bedroom window, making you jump. You smile a little at your reaction, and a frisson goes up your spine, giddy.

You’re kind of in a euphoric state tonight.

The storm came in early, darkening the sky hours before its time and bringing torrents of rain down upon your home. Immediately, your windows had been opened, your candles lit, and you were curled up on your bed with a book in your hands.

Downstairs, you can hear the familiar buzz of the TV playing one of James’ sports games. The whole apartment smells like the cookies you made earlier, which you have a small plate of next to you and which your roommate had moaned as he’d bitten into upon you offering some to him. Sweetheart, keep spoiling me like this and you’ll never get me to leave.

Suffice to say, you’ve been having a fairly good evening.

Your book is just starting to pick up when the TV quiets. Everything quiets. There’s a thud, followed by a hissed curse.

You laugh a little. Pick up your phone.

Alright down there? You text James.

More thudding sounds. You think about picking your book back up, but decide to wait.

If I were bleeding out on the living room floor, do you think I’d be able to text you back?

A moment later: If you wanted to do a thorough job of seeing I was alright, you should have come and seen for yourself.

Then: And I heard you laughing.

You smile to yourself, a quiet chuckle escaping you. Sorry, can’t, you reply. Too cozy.

You hear his heavy footfalls coming up the stairs, and you have only a few moments to brace yourself before he’s swinging open your door.

Lately, your body has been doing this thing where he looks at you and it’s like the ground softens beneath you. Luckily, you’re already on a bed, so it’s not really possible this time.

James shuts off the flashlight on his phone, looking around your room with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Woah. Are you having a seance in here?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way the candlelight plays prettily over his features. “You’re just jealous that I was prepared for the power to go out and you weren’t.”

“It looks like you were hoping for it.” James grins. He starts to cross the room, and you’re like a sunflower to your light as you tilt to face him.

He lays down next to you on your bed, on his stomach with his forearms propping him up. It’s a somewhat tight fit, but James doesn’t seem to mind the way his hip and shoulder are touching yours. His shampoo smell wraps around you like a hug.

You pick up your tea as an excuse not to look at him, blowing softly before taking a sip. James watches you consideringly.

“You really are thriving in here, aren’t you?” he teases softly. “Look at you, you’ve got your fuzzy socks on, your tea, your book. You’re in paradise.”

You smile sheepishly as you set your tea down on the floor. “Sorry you couldn’t finish your game.”

“Oh, it’s alright.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’d rather hang with you anyway.”

You feel your brows furrow, a confusing mass of emotions knotting in your chest. “Don’t say that,” you tell him softly.

You can feel James’ gaze warming the side of your face. His voice is just as quiet. “Why not?”

You look over, and his eyes don’t flit away like a sane person’s would. They’re steady and warm as the flames around you. Instantly the room feels too small, him a little too close.

James’ smile is almost tentative. “Look, I know you drew the short stick with this roommate agreement, but I plan to soak up as much roomie time as I can get. Sorry.”

“I did not,” you murmur.

“Didn’t what?”

“You drew the short stick.” Your face burns. You know James too well to think he’d be making fun of you, but it’s difficult to imagine an alternative. He can’t really think you don’t like having him as a roommate after all the ways he’s been a friend to you, the times he’s stepped in to help, when you’ve only been a burden and a drag. “Not me.”

His eyebrows twitch closer to each other, and his lips tilt bemusedly, as though they’re unsure of what else to do. The lenses of his glasses reflect the candlelight, brown eyes molten behind them.

“I’m inclined to disagree,” he says. The air between you feels thick and sweet. Your heart seems to know something you don’t, quickening its rhythm in your chest. Then, because it’s James, he flicks up a brow. “Truce?”

You laugh quietly, turning your face down towards your book. There are goosebumps going all down your arms. “Sure,” you say.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Glad that’s settled.”

You don’t respond this time. You’re not sure you can. The words on your page blur by, unnoticed and unimportant.

Lightning cracks outside. You gasp and turn to see it, and James’ lips meet you there.

You should have known he would be soft like this. You’ve kept yourself from thinking about it, but you could have guessed. The first gentle, warm press of his mouth is so lovely you get lost in it, but when it lasts for too long and he starts to draw back, you remember that you can move, too.

He takes in a tiny inhale when you part your lips for him, his hand finding your waist and his body curving over yours. Your arm falls out from under you, and James follows you down. He tastes sweet and familiar, like home.

You bring your hands up to his face, one resting tentatively on his cheek while the other toys with the idea of slipping its fingers into his hair. The sky rumbles outside. Your heart pitters.

“It’s okay,” James mumbles. His voice buzzes against your lips. “It’s okay, sweetheart, please.”

You grasp at the roots of his hair, palm settling more surely on his cheek, and James makes a sound low in his throat. He breaks the kiss to pull off his glasses. You take them from where he sets them on the bed, placing them more carefully on the floor where they’re not so likely to get crushed. His lips curve over yours. You think that if you were to detour to either side, you might find a dimple in his cheek.

“James,” you murmur.

“Oh, it’s James again now, is it?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “What is it?”

“Are you sure?”

It’s a nonsensical question, but in fairness you think all the blood that’s supposed to be in your brain has gone to your lips, and James seems to get what you mean anyway.

He chuckles quietly. “I am, yeah.” He makes a sound that’s almost like a sigh, hand climbing up your back until it’s trapped between your shoulders and your bed. “I don’t ever tell you how lovely you are, but I’ve…I’m sure. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I think so.”

“That’s okay.” James kisses your chin, the curve of your jaw.

“You’re lovely, too,” you tell him somewhat desperately. His lashes tickle your cheek. Your fingers are still burrowed in the hair at his nape. “I never tell you. I like when you’re here.”

You feel his smile bloom against your skin. “I like you too, sweetheart,” he says, voice light with teasing.

You frown, wishing he would take you seriously. “I do. I really like you.”

“I think I like you more.”

You scoff. He nips at your jaw, surprising a laugh out of you. “You can’t always win,” you say.

James makes a happy humming sound. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

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