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zepskies · 6 months ago

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Headcanon: Wearing His Clothes

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: I haven't done one of these in a while! This one was requested by the lovely @luci-in-trenchcoats. 💜

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff, spiciness/implied smut

Headcanon: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to you (getting caught) wearing his clothes.

Dean Winchester

Ugh, what a cocky SOB. 😆 (And yet, not the cockiest of them all.)

You've been doing it for weeks now, without comment from him.

But every time he sees you in one of his undershirts, getting ready for bed, it's always accompanied by a little once-over. A curve of his lips. A smirk, if you will.

He likes the look of you.

He likes that you're his.

And he likes the fact that you feel comfortable enough to steal his clothes.

He also likes welcoming you into bed next to him, with a hand running up your back, or venturing under whatever undershirt you've decided to slip on to feel the warmth of your skin.

"'S this mine?" he asks. You give him a quirking smile.

"You know it is," you say, with playful challenge.

Dean accepts that with a hum and leans in for a kiss as payment.

Sometimes that one stolen kiss leads to another, simmering with heat. And he’ll take great pleasure in taking back his shirt, casting it to the floor and rolling you underneath him on the bed.

But it doesn't stop at his undershirts. You steal his plaid ones if you want something to comfortably drown in when you're doing research, or just lounging in the bunker. The material is soft from several hundred washes. (The red and black one is one of your favorites.)

Rare though it is for him to wear hoodies, it's rarer still, because Dean can never even find one in his side of the dresser.

That's because you're keeping it hostage on your side, buried under your lingerie. (Even if he tried to find the hoodie, odds are he’ll get distracted.)

It gets to the point where he can hardly find anything of his.

His brows furrow as he rucks through his drawers for something clean to wear, while clad in only his most threadbare sweatpants.

"Damn it, woman. Where are my shirts?" he grouses.

You bite your lip and pretend to keep reading your book. You're already safe in bed, covered up to your chest by the blankets.

"I don't know. Have you done your laundry?" you ask, smiling to yourself. Dean catches you, with a suspicious brow raise.

He climbs into bed and snatches the covers away from you. You yelp at the suddenness and try to grab at them, but it's too late.

He discovers that you're wearing one of his newer shirts, which he had to buy to replace the ones he just can't seem to find.

"Are you kidding me? This is Theft in the First goddamn Degree!" he exclaims, even though he's close to laughing at the way you're already giggling. He manages to pin you underneath him on the bed, and he has half a mind to take this shirt back as well, by whatever means necessary.

And yes, tickling is one of those means.

"Sweetheart, for the love of God. Why do you keep taking my shit?" he asks, in a way that's half-serious in his frustration, but also half-teasing.

You shrug shamelessly, still smiling. You run your hands up his bare arms and shoulders, and back down his chest.

"I don't know. It's comfortable," you say. But your eyes lower as your face begins to warm with a blush. "Makes me feel safe...like you're always with me."

At that, the tension in Dean's shoulders eases. His smile can't help but soften around the edges as he looks down on you, now with fondness. After a while, he lets out a deep sigh.

"All right," he says.

You grin, because you know he's given up. You lean up for a kiss that successfully distracts him.

Dean still gets annoyed sometimes when he can't find a specific item of clothing in his drawer, but now, all he has to do is go over to your side of the dresser.

There he knows he'll eventually find what he's looking for.

Beau Arlen

Heh, in this episode of “Whose Hat is it Anyway”...

Beau's wardrobe reminds you of a cowboy in modern times.

Lots of browns and beiges, lots of slacks and buttoned-down shirts tucked in with an army of belts to choose from (even though the man only owns a few pairs of boots). Not to mention a slew of jackets that often pull the look together.

But being that he's new to Montana (specifically, Montana winters), you like to buy him sweaters. Cable-knits and soft ones in earth tones that you think bring out his eyes.

Beau accepts whatever you get him and graciously wears them. He trusts your judgment on what looks good on him, and he appreciates the way you think of him.

It's just one of those ways, however small, that you show that you care and that you're looking out for him.

One night while he's working late, however, you find yourself trying to reorganize the closet. The man is "organized chaos" at best, and you find one of his sweaters on the floor. It's a nice burgundy one that you bought him recently.

Ooh, so soft, you think, while feeling the fabric between your fingers.

You don't know what possesses you, but you decide to slip out of your pajamas and try it on yourself.

SO damn soft, you realize, as you practically drown in the sweater. It hangs about to mid-thigh.

Then you see one of his beige Stetsons hanging on the wall. A sneaking smile curves your lips, before you slip on his hat.

To complete the ensemble, you dig into the recesses of your closet and find a pair of your old cowboy boots. You go out into the bedroom and check yourself out in the mirror with a growing smirk.

"Hey there, darlin'," you try to impersonate your boyfriend's subtle Texan twang, and even his mannerisms by winking at yourself, tipping the hat forward.

You giggle at your own silliness in this moment, but alone in your own house, who freakin' cares? You should feel free to dance naked through the whole damn place if you feel like it.

So you spin on your heel and do a little twirl in your boots.

"Who's the sheriff now, huh?" You mime a pair of guns with your hands and shoot at your reflection. "Psh, psh!"

But that's when you catch sight of one Beau Arlen, leaning against the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed. An amused grin is plastered to his face.

You freeze in shock, still with your "gun hands" held up.

"Oh, don't stop the show on my account," Beau says slyly. He gestures at you. "Please, continue."

Your hot blush spreads from your cheeks and quickly begins to travel down your neck. "Uh...I was just...you know, cleaning the closet. You're very messy, you know!"

Beau snorts and draws closer. Those green eyes of his take in the full sight of you, down your bare thighs and cowboy boots, and back up to your embarrassed face. You bite your bottom lip on reflex.

"You know, I like what you got goin' on here," he says, waving a hand down your form. "But it's just...it's missing something."

He takes his badge with the gold star off his belt and pins it to your sweater.

"There you go. Perfect fit," he says, even as his hand slides up the slope of your back. You find yourself pulled further into his orbit as you try (and fail) to stamp down a smile.

"You're late, you know," you remind him. Beau bows his head and presses a kiss into your neck. You feel his smirk there.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff. Gonna arrest me, or let me off with a warning?" he teases. His other hand comes up to adjust the hat on your head. You smirk and cling to his arms over his dark brown jacket. It's one of his nicer ones.

"I think I can let you off," you play along. You lean up to skim your lips across his cheek, and closer to his ear. "But only for good behavior."

He has to chuckle then. "I can accept those terms..."

Beau's hands slip under your stolen sweater and begin to slide it up your body, inch by inch.

"Though I'm gonna need you to keep the boots on," he says lowly, just before he claims you with a searing kiss.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Oh, here we go. 😅

As with most things, it's a point of pride for Ben.

He'd prefer you be too fucked out to move, let alone put on clothes after he's finished with you.

On the rare occasion that your body doesn't feel too much like warm molasses after a few hot rounds with your boyfriend, you like to at least grab one of his discarded shirts to cover yourself.

If he still has energy, he'll take that as a challenge. He'll try to slip his hands underneath whatever shirt you've found and divest you of it, so he can start devouring you again.

However. Ben does like seeing you in his clothes, in a possessive, claiming way.

There are days when you just want to be swallowed up in one of his large, comfortable shirts as you lounge about the house.

Ben sometimes watches you putter around, cleaning, working, cooking, reading, or watching TV in nothing but his clothes. He wonders if you're even wearing panties. You could be bare faced with a severe case of bed head, but his eyes will still occasionally follow you.

His expression doesn't reveal too much, but he likes it. (And because you know him, you know it too.)

Maybe he'll catch you as you pass by, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You startle with a yelp, but then you grab onto his arms and smile.

"Can I help you, sir?" you tease.

"Think you can just walk by me, looking sexy as fuck?" he remarks. He steals a slow, thorough kiss. You cup his face and bring him back in for more, tenderly stroking his cheek.

"You know why I like wearing your stuff?" you ask. Your smile hints at teasing.

Ben arches a brow. "Why?"

"Because it keeps you looking," you reply. And you reach a hand around to slap his ass, for good measure.

Then you saunter away from him to get back to what you were doing.

Or at least, you try to.

Ben grabs your hand and pulls you back towards him, back into the cage of his arms, where he falls back into the trap you've so often laid. And he finishes what you started.

AN: Well, then. 😂 I hope you guys enjoy this! Who had your favorite reaction: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 😘

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean, Beau + Soldier Boy Tag List (Part 1)

@melancholictearz @spnwoman @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @rizlowwritessortof @anticxrrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky

@teehxk @midnightmadwoman @agalliasi @venicesem @deans-spinster-witch

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken

@deanfreakingwinchester @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore

@agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester

@tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant

@xxlaynaxx @beskarfilms @tmb510 @iamsapphine @roseblue373

@lacilou @jackles010378 @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse

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caparrucia · 2 years ago

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Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.

Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.

And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"

But like.

If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.

So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.

There is no nuance to this.

A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.

That's it.

That's all.

"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.

"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.

"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.

"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.

"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.

But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.

"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.

#shut up rie

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teojira · 4 months ago

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[Click Click Boom] [Shadow x Reader short stories]

Summary: You're set to be Shadow's companion to keep an eye on him and keep him in line, a courtesy from the goverment for him saving the world with Sonic and the others.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Can be read as platonic or romantic! Shadow/reader romance is implied though! You're human in this, age is vague but you're meant to be in your 20s.

Disclaimer: Shadow is an adult, and as for the furry debate, he's literally an adult who can consent and is sentient, don't like? Don't read!

A/N: I've literally been obsessed with this fucker since I was a literal child and it's the first time I've written for him!! The trailer yas me going insane. This is written well before the movie has come out, literally all I got to work with is Shadow in the trailer and the bits and pieces of info I psychoanalized so I don't wanna hear shit about it not being accurate tbh, this is self indulgent!!

Shadow isn't the worst task you've been assigned, you both are more akin to awkward roommates more than anything.

I'm talking randomly lingering in the corners of the room, his bright red eyes glowing and they always seemed to be locked right onto you.

You screamed the first dozen times, but now you just glare at the black hedgehog and spit out a "fuck you." and go about your business.

He'll never admit that it brings him infinite amusement, it's hard to tell, but the huff he lets out is evidence enough.

Shadow will never admit he cares for you, he loses everyone he cares for, and humans don't live that long. It's terrifying to think about how much he's come to like you.

He's not nearly as slick as he thinks he is.

You're sitting down at the dinner table, typing away on your laptop, editing the mission report from the other day when Shadow makes his way towards you. Sending him a nod in his direction, you don't think of anything when he moves in close.

A huge slam takes you off guard though, jumping damn near out of your skin as you twist your head to look at him.

"What the fuck-"

"Take it."

It's one of Shadow's guns, his emblem being engraved along the stock.

"What? No, I have guns." You raise an eyebrow at the hog, his face is perfectly still, eyes locking onto yours as he waits for you to grab the heckler.

"Your guns are worthless, you need something better."

"Well excuse me, I so happen to like my guns." You try and joke back, but the offense is taken.

Shadow rolls his eyes so hard you're scared that he's gonna blind himself. Jutting his chin towards the table once more to get your focus back onto it.

"If you have one of mine, I know you're safe." He doesn't elaborate. Not that he needs to.

"...Thank you, Shad."

All you get is a grunt in response, and he's on his way back to his room.

Gingerly picking up the weapon, you take in how pristine it is, a thumb caressing your small initials that you missed on the other side of the stock.

With Shadow saving the world, the reeking of havoc makes it to where he's limited to what he is allowed to do in the public eye.

Not that he listens, he isn't supposed to be out after curfew. But to be fair, it is extremely hard to keep a teleporting hedgehog confined to a meager two-story house.

You can hear him teleport above you, he's on the roofs of the nearby building, leering down at you.

It was a small errand you were on, simply stocking up on the essentials for the house.

Namely, snacks for Shadow, he doesn't ask for a lot other than coffee beans and Doritos.

You are choosing to ignore the fact that he eats the coffee beans straight up, the crunch echoes through your head and it sends a shudder down your spine.

He was adamant against you leaving the house this late, standing in front of the front door.

"No."

"Fuck you mean no?"

"I said no."

"....I don't listen to men."

And you weaved around him to leave the house, ignoring his shout of disapproval.

That leads you both to here now, you pretending you don't see him trailing you from the rooftops as you walk your way back home from the small shopping center.

You feign surprise when he opens the house door for you, begrudgingly sticking a hand out to help you with your bags.

"Oh! Thank you my knight in shining armor~"

"Shut it."

He's never told you his birthday, which you can understand, living for 50 years and not having your family around must be hard. No matter how he may fake that it doesn't bother him.

That doesn't stop you, not in the slightest really. You damn near kick him out of the house for the day, shoving him over to Tom and Maddie's house so he can be with the others. Despite how much he protested.

"I don't want to go over there. Not with that blue fake."

"You don't really have a choice bub, I need you out of the house."

"I don't understand why I have to-"

"Keep arguing with me and I will make it a point to not buy you shit next grocery trip."

It's an empty threat, but he grunts nonetheless.

"...."

"That's what I thought."

When he finally gets home from his long and admittedly overstimulating day with the Wachowskis, he's ready to recharge in his room.

He teleports through the house door, sighing and rubbing at his temples as he moves to kick off his shoes, knowing that if he doesn't, you'd chastise him for not doing so.

Something about tracking dirt and rocket fuel into the carpet.

Whatever.

After trying to massage his brain through his fur, he opens his eyes up to see a colorful banner strung across the mantle.

'Happy birthday!' It screams, in its disgustingly neon color palette.

Shadow wracks his brain for any information of it being your birthday, he knows for a fact it isn't today. A friend you're throwing a party for? Well, that makes no sense, he knows very well you don't have many friends, especially any that you'd invite your house up for.

You're antisocial to a fault, not that he has absolutely any room to talk.

He hears you before he sees you, turning the corner into the living room, carrying some balloons in your hands. A stupid little party hat on your head.

"Shadow! What are you doing back so early?"

Kicking off the last shoe, he stands at his full height, staring into your eyes with a shrug.

"I wasn't aware I had a time."

"....fair enough, anyways, fuck, goddamnit. Stay here. Okay?"

And you're off, running into the kitchen, his ears flick at the slamming of the fridge door, followed by the cabinets being no doubt, hip nudging it shut way too forcefully.

He's awkwardly standing there still until you yell for him to come in.

Shadow has half a mind to ignore you and go into his room, but curiosity kills the cat, so he takes in a deep breath and makes his way to you.

He finds you sitting at the little kitchenette, a nervous smile spread across your lips as you gesture to the plate in front of you.

The smell is apparent, it's a coffee cupcake.

The hedgehog feels his ears flick again, staring down at the desert, then trailing his eyes back to meet your own. Wordlessly asking you what was going on.

"You've never told me your birthday, but it's been a year since you've been here, with me. After the whole trying to destroy the world shit. So since you won't tell me, we can kinda treat this as it?" You keep rambling, eyes flitting around the room, very clearly nervous as to his reaction.

Shadow doesn't say anything, or move even. Just staring down at the cupcake.

It looks amateurish, the frosting is lopsided, and the toppings on it look messy. But you made it for him. You even added a big black "1" candle in the center.

He doesn't know what to say, he can feel heat rush through his body, rushing to his ears and his face, and his fur feels constricting.

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck.

You go to open your mouth again, no doubt to apologize, but he beats you to it.

Moving to scoop up the treat, he gently sniffs it before taking a cautionary bite.

A beat passes between the two of you.

"...it's good."

Shadow does his best to ignore the smile that blooms across your face, not wanting to remember just how pretty he finds you like this.

Disgusting.

Shadow doesn't like touch, you know it, he knows it, and everyone knows it. He's threatened to break Sonic's wrist for even so much as patting the older hedgehog on the back. Baring his sharper fangs and hissing out to not touch him ever.

He avoids group hugs from Team Sonic, avoids Tom and Maddie like the plague, dodging every invitation to be a part of the family, it makes him sick to think about it.

With you, it's a little different.

You're not like them, you don't push him to change, you don't have a problem with how closed off he is, giving him space, never once pushing his very strict boundaries.

Something churns in his chest at the sound of you crying in your room, you probably think you're being incognito, holding a pillow to your face to drown out your sobs.

The internal debate is heavy, Shadow used to be able to comfort, to provide warmth, but he hasn't done so in years. Flashes of memories where he would comfort Maria on her bad health days, letting her run her fingers over his quills, to lend an ear to Gerald when he was frustrated about treatments not working.

It's not to say he is replacing you in their place, but it's scary. To open himself up like that again. He can feel his anxiety rising as he goes over the pros and cons of crossing this line. Eyes squeeze shut forcefully as he tells himself he doesn't care about you, that you're an adult, and you don't need to be babied.

His ears twitch when a pathetic little whimper drops from your lips, and his resolve cracks.

You don't look up when he makes his way in, too stuck in your bubble.

Startling a little when two, much stronger and larger hands grab at your own, peeling them away from the pillow. Your puffy bloodshot eyes looking at the hedgehog in front of you, his face set as it usually is, stoic. But his eyes are different, and his body language is different, when has he ever looked at you so softly? It's jarring.

Oh, he's moving closer. Okay. Weird.

"Shadow? Uh, I'm ok-"

You try and lie, it's a pitiful attempt. Your voice is scratchy and the tear tracks down your cheeks aren't helping your plight.

"No, you're not."

He shuts you down immediately, hands sliding up your arms to drag you into him.

The instant your bodies touch, you feel a fresh wave of tears well up in your eyes again.

Shadow has you resting against him, your head resting on him as he wraps himself loosely in your arms, giving you the space to move away if you so choose.

It's the first time he's allowed you to hug him, the first time he's ever initiated contact with someone in years. A fact that you both are well aware of.

A sob works its way up your throat, immediately tightening your grip on the hedgehog, curling into him as you shake.

Shadow doesn't say anything, doesn't make fun of you as snot pours from your nose, doesn't point out that your mascara and eyeliner are getting everywhere, just sits there and lets you cling onto him like he's your only lifeline.

He thinks that this is okay, he's strong enough for you both, and you don't need to worry when he's here.

#IS THIS ANY FUCKING GOOD LMAO #I have no clue but i love him so bad hes been a comfort character my entire life #no one loves u shadow like i do #promise #teddy loves shadow ☆#shadow the hedgehog #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sega #sonic 3 #sonic the hedgehog #shadow

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drurrito · 9 months ago

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Night Drive (18+)

Summary: You get a new car

AN: 18+ only y'all--we're gonna pretend that there are plenty of other self-driving cars that aren't t*sla...I hope this makes up for me not putting out another part of AYTO yet! All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: cursing; reader has a dick; dom//powerbottom!Natasha; sub//top!reader

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You sink lower into your seat as you rev the engine of your new car with the widest grin Natasha can't see. Natasha looks hardly impressed from your view beyond the barely-legal tint of the windows.

You decide to roll down your window and plead your case.

"Hey baby."

Natasha rolls her eyes. You already screw yourself coming right out the gate with pleasantries, Natasha knows you're desperate to get on her good side when you do that.

"So...what do you think?" You vaguely gesture to the rest of the car and Natasha scoffs.

"I think you were a finance bro in your past life," she crosses her arms, and you relent, "probably," you sing as you round the car to lean against the hood. The gun metal gray still holds a shine in the moonlight. This wasn't an impulse purchase, you had been talking about buying a new car for a while now. You would go on little rants about the specs of certain cars whenever you saw them on the road or on TV. It's not like you were waiting when you had the money, being an avenger was a pretty-paying gig. You were just waiting for the right one, at the right time--a method you mastered by the time Natasha came around.

"Wanna go for a joyride?" You offer, already leaning off the hood and spinning the key in your hand.

Natasha wants to keep giving you a hard time, but you look so damn good in front of your sleek, expensive, new backdrop. Your muscles bulge under your fitted black shirt, and you have the cockiest smile on your face, like you knew you were winning this race.

"And if we get pulled over?"

"With SHIELD plates? I'm not worried about it," it almost comes out like it's scripted. You're not above rehearsing a speech for Natasha if it means getting your way. You're pulling out all the stops, but Natasha wants to remind you who's really behind the wheel. Her eyes rake over you slowly, intensely--the same way fresh lava travels over earth. You're standing at attention and you don't even know it.

"You gonna open the door for me or just stand there like you forgot your manners?" Natasha watches in amusement as you fumble for the door handle. She slides onto the cool leather while you make your way into the driver's seat yet again. You wait patiently for her to get comfortable and buckle in.

It's only when you rev the engine with a wink that Natasha muses this might have been a bad idea on her part. You punch the gas pedal and she's quickly acquainted with the back of the cherry red bucket seat.

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Natasha decides that she doesn't like going fast unless the fate of the world depends on it. She also decides this is the one exception when she sees the freeway system of veins in your forearms as you grip the steering wheel. Natasha feels like she's flying when she watches your triceps flex while you turn the wheel or do something as mundane as turning on her seat heater.

Natasha slides her seatbelt off in a way that doesn't set off the sensor--she didn't want this moment to be ruined by a lecture on why it's important to buckle-up. You're too distracted by the beat of your night drive playlist to notice her crawling closer to you.

You feel her lips on the shell of your ear, "eyes on the road, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," you try to say cooly, you don't dare chance a look over at her. She hums with satisfaction and rewards you with a kiss on the skin behind your ear and a nibble on your lobe that tightens the coil in your belly.

Natasha sucks and licks at your neck while her deft fingers work to undo your belt and zipper. Her hand explores the border of your waistband before dipping under and finding what it was looking for. You let out a whisper of a gasp when Natasha admires your full length and girth. Your grip on the wheel tightens, Natasha chuckles when she hears the leather under your fingers groan.

Natasha begins to stroke you slowly, agonizingly so, but that doesn't keep your hips from bucking up into her hand.

"Tash," that only elicits a rumble against your neck. Natasha's other hand curls around your neck and gives a light squeeze that makes your vision blur for a second. Her stroking picks up speed, you have to work impossibly hard to keep your foot off the brakes.

"Natasha, please."

"I like the way you say please, baby," she mumbles with your skin between her teeth.

"What did I tell you?"

"Eyes on the road, ma'am," you say with a quickness that makes the corner of her lips curl up in satisfaction.

"So smart," she praises before you helplessly watch her head lower until you feel her lips greet your cock with a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against your seat with a pathetic moan.

"So desperate," Natasha teases, and your mind feels like it's going a million miles an hour--multitasking is usually your strong suit, but it seems damn near impossible now.

Natasha's tongue travels the length of you, your hips feebly buck into her mouth when she finally grants you entrance. You slow your speed to safely take a hand off the wheel and hold her hair back. She thanks you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh and the prettiest sounds you could have only ever imagined.

Your playlist is already repeating itself by the time Natasha comes up for air. She can barely hear it over your panting anyway. You're rock hard and right where she wants you.

"The car can drive itself, you know," you breathe out. Natasha's brow quirks with curiosity.

"Show me," it's a gentle command, but your fingers rush to press the right sequence of buttons. You ease the seat back with haste, and Natasha just lets you sit there for a few beats to take you in and also leave you in suspense.

Your fingers dumbly flex against your legs while you wait for further instruction from Natasha. She doesn't even try to hide her smirk when your eyes begin to dart between the road and her.

"You're not gonna let us crash right, dove?" Natasha's finger traces a feather-light trail down your arm. It's a genuine question, even though she knows you probably did some sizable research on the safety features of the car before you even entertained buying it.

"No ma'am, you're precious cargo," you give an easy smile and that's Natasha's cue to move and straddle your lap. You help her with your hands on her hips, your hands quickly retreating to your sides when she's situated over you.

Natasha swears your eyes are sparkling as you watch her slide her panties to the side with one hand and take your length in the other.

"Eyes on me, baby, just for a second," she coos and you obey. Natasha can't help but admire the striations of your muscles working overtime to restrain yourself. You've always been intoxicatingly obedient, even when it's downright painful. Your eyes are locked on Natasha's, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan when she finally eases down onto your cock. She's already working her hips in a way that has your entire body buzzing. You can count on one hand how many cars have passed you by this whole time, just like you expected.

Your fingers dig into the leather of your seat, your eyes periodically glancing at the road to make sure it hasn't veered off course for whatever reason. Natasha steals a few sloppy kisses when she leans into you to get a better angle and bounce on your cock at a speed that should be illegal.

"Tash, I'm gonna-," you choke out between labored breaths.

"What was that baby?" she leans back and oh god, you wish you had the kind of self-control your car has right now. You feel like you're going to pass out watching Natasha ride your cock, you're too blissed out to realize that she's spelling out 'm-i-n-e-' with her hips.

"I'm gonna come so fast."

"I know baby."

That seals your fate. Your arm reaches back to brace yourself against the seat. With a long and drawn-out "fuck," Natasha feels you push deeper into her, filling her up with every last drop of you. You both fall into a sweaty, moaning heap against the seat. Your body trembling with aftershocks as Natasha scratches at the skin on the back of your neck. You only get to drink this feeling in for a few seconds until you see red and blue flashing lights in your rearview mirror.

"Shit," you sit up and Natasha freezes when she sees what you see. You feverishly check your speedometer, you're not speeding. You start rifling through your brain to see if you forgot to do something, insurance? Plates? Registration?

Your questions are answered when you watch the cop car speed off into the night. Natasha lets out a heavy sigh of relief that makes your dick twitch, reminding you both that you're still inside of her.

"Told you," you try not to sound so exasperated. Natasha just rolls her eyes before kissing your temple. Night drives might just become a regular thing now.

#not a word #not one peep #works #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #what do i say?#use protection #dont actually have sex while operating a moving vehicle?#if you know what this is inspired by no u don't

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pretty-little-mind33 · 5 months ago

Text

Pietro Maxmioff x fem!reader

Summary: You don't want to share a bed with Pietro. He wants nothing more than to share one with you.

Prompt: one bed - "Don't bite your lip, bite mine."

Warnings: again, I use Czech as 'Sokovian', swearing, flirty!pietro, anxious!reader

PIETRO MAXIMOFF MASTERLIST

BLURB MASTERLIST

"Which asshole gave Pietro and me a room with only one bed!" you hiss, standing in the small living corner that is in the hotel, your arms crossed.

Steve and Tony glance up from their m friendly game of pool while Natasha smirks from where she is on the couch. Wanda, who is watching Steve and Tony's game, laughs and you snap your head around to glare at her.

"What's so funny? Can't I switch with you? He's your brother!"

Wanda shakes her head, still smiling. "Rooms are rooms."

You huff. You're not stupid. Everyone on the team thinks you and Pietro have some romantic thing going on, which means they'd most likely done this on purpose.

"Well, fuck you all," you say and storm back into the elevator, angrily making your way up to your hotel room again.

You open the door and almost slam into Pietro, who is walking out of the bathroom, with only a towel loosely hung around his hips.

He curses in Sokovian as his eyes widen. "Miláček (Sweetheart)," he says, finally registering it's only you, and that familiar annoying play-boy smirk curls his lips.

"I leave you alone for barely five minutes and you've already finished your shower?" you ask in disbelief, ignoring how water still drips down his torso and over his toned abs.

Pietro makes it so damn hard to be mad at him when he looks this good.

"I'm quick," he shrugs and walks by you, ruffling your hair with a grin. He turns and walks into the main room, calling out behind him, "Plus, now you have more time to shower yourself. You're welcome, Princezna (Princess)."

You roll your eyes and storm into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you pretend you're not completely flustered by him or his pet names.

Once you've finished your shower, you leave the bathroom dressed in your pajamas. Your hair is dried and brushed and your skin smells like the vanilla body wash you'd used.

Pietro is lying on the right side of the bed, his arms folded behind his head as he watches a comedy movie and chuckles along.

He perks up when he sees you and smiles. "Hey, drahoušek (darling)," he says, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"That's three," you hum and walk over cautiously, sitting on the other end of the queen-sized bed, staring at Pietro like he's some scary unknown. "You have any more cheesy pet names I can't understand up your sleeve, Maximoff?"

Pietro chuckles, very amused. "How do you know they're cheesy if you can't understand them, moje srdce (my heart)."

You narrow your eyes at him defiantly. "I just know," you say. "I know you."

Pietro hums and looks at you, his silver hair falling over his icy blue eyes for a moment. "Wanna finish the movie?" he asks.

You shake your head and climb under the blanket. You hear Pietro's laugh and then he turns off the T.V. He speeds up to turn off the lights, tucking himself into the bed next to you in a blur. His body feels so warm, so close, and your head spins as you try to stay as far away from him as possible. You hate these feelings. You hate them more than anything.

"Princezna (Princess)?"

You tense.

"Y-yeah?"

You hear the shifting of sheets and then he's even closer, his hand coming up from behind to brush some strands of your hair as his fingertips then linger on your cheek. "Look at me, will you?" he asks seriously.

You hesitate, not wanting to turn around. Pietro hums again and whispers something in Sokovian in your ear. His breath is warm on your skin and as if in a trance, you turn around. Your noses almost touch, causing your eyes to widen. The curtains aren't drawn closed so you can see him easily in the moonlight.

He's gorgeous.

You bite your lip, the action almost uncontrollable.

Pietro's gaze hardens and without much thinking, he leans in and takes your chin in his hand, kissing your lips. In the process, he opens your mouth to disconnect your teeth from your lips as he deepens the kiss. As startled as you are, you kiss him back and pull him closer to you. No lips have ever felt softer than his.

Pietro pulls away after a moment and grins. "Don't bite your lip, next time drahoušek (darling), bite mine."

His words cause you to halt, your body feeling weak as you look at him with wide eyes and a shiver runs through you when his thumb traces your lips.

You find yourself nodding, your shyness appearing as you realize Pietro fucking Maxmioff had just kissed you—while in the same bed—you know have to share.

Pietro is looking at you like he adores you, his eyes tracing every blemish and insecurity on your face with a look that makes your heart flutter.

"I like you," he tells you. "A lot."

Your mind is unable to conjure up any coherent words but it's screaming at you to return the feelings.

"You don't need to tell me now, Princezna (Princess)," he whispers and kisses your forehead. "Miluji tě (I love you)," he adds, knowing you can't understand him. His arm wraps around you and you let him, nuzzling into him. His chest fills with pride.

Your mind has only calmed down a little, or calmed down enough, that the one thing you can think is thank god for the team and their weird sense of intuition.

tags: @tansgirlfriend, @princesssunderworld, @lqrlei, @brokeaesthetic, @sayitlikethecheese

#pietro maximoff #quicksilver pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff fanfic #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff marvel #pietro maximoff fluff #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff x y/n #pietro maximoff x fem!reader #pietro marvel #marvel #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x fem!reader #avengers age of ultron #age of ultron

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chloe-skywalker · 9 months ago

Text

They Were There - Peter Hale

Peter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 635

Summary: Derek and Cora know about Y/n and Peter because they were there when he proposed. Everyone else in the pack? Surprise.

Masterlist

Teen Wolf Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Welcome to the family.” Derek smiled, hugging Y/n as she and Peter entered the loft having just got back from their honeymoon. Y/n and Derek had been friends since junior high but now she was his sister in law and Derek wasn’t disappointed. “Cora sends her congrats and welcome but she had to leave.”

“Its okay. I already talked to her.” Y/n smiled, waving it off, her and Cora had already talked a few days before. “Its great to finally be apart of the family.” Y/n groaned back at Peter along with Derek.

“Sorry I didn’t want to rush things.” Peter narrowed his eyes at the two.

“You have been in love with her since you were 14. I think you took your damn time.” Derek raised his brows looking at his uncle with an exaggerated look. Even if he was somewhat commatoused for a few years, his uncle still took his damn time.

“I’m just glad you did it to begin with.” Y/n let out a laugh, it was a long time coming.

“It's been a longtime coming.” Peter pulled Y/n, his wife, into his side and kissed her. He could be soft with her.

“There's a pack meeting tonight here at the loft.” Derek told them after their little moment, Y/n is good for his uncle. Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t kill him again to protect her, but she did make him a better person.

“I’ll be there.” Y/n told him.

“Will you?” Derek asked his uncle knowing how much he did not care for the pack.

“Since my wife will be there, yes. I gotta know what I’ll have to protect you from when their plans go wrong.” Peter stated sarcastically. Y/n and Derek just looked at eachother and rolled their eyes.

^ ^ ^

“Your back!” Scott said with a smile rushing over to hug Y/n once the pack entered the loft and saw she was there. They had all missed her.

“You’ve been gone so long.” Allsion said having missed her older friend. Y/n was older than the group of teens, she was the older sister figure of the pack.

“Where’d you go?” Stiles asked.

“Is that a ring on your finger?” Lydia points out having caught the shine of it catching the light.

“You got married?” Allison questioned in shock, having looked down to Y/n’s hand like everyone else after hearing Lydia.

“Yes.” Y/n nodded.

“Without us?” Scott gave her his sad puppy dog eyes.

“We plan on having a reception with all of you sometime in the near future.” Y/n smiled at them and she saw her words lesson their sadness.

“We? Who’s the dude?” Stiles raised a brow.

“Peter.”

“Peter as in Peter Hale?!” Scott’s eyes bulged out of his head.

“As in Derek’s uncle?” Allison was less shocked but more surprised.

“Yes, she's a Hale now.” Derek smirked proudly.

“I am.” She smiled.

“Peter Hale?” Stiles squinted his eyes, still not believing it.

“Is there something wrong with me?” Peter raised his eyebrows pretending to be innocent. He spoke up for the first time since the pack arrived from his spot on the couch.

“You're a psychopath for starters.” Stiles stated addressing the oldest Hale.

“He’s different with her. I’ll defend him on that. He has always been different when it comes to Y/n.” Derek spoke up.

Y/n walked over to Peter, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“That's because she’s different. She’s mine.” Peter growled the last part possessively.

“And you're mine.” Y/n smiled at him leaning over to kiss him.

“Oh he’s been yours since he laid eyes on you.” Derek teased and he got satisfaction when his uncle flashed his eyes at him but couldn’t deny his nephew's statement.

#y/n #x reader #imagine #imagines #x y/n #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #lydia martin #allison argent #derek hale #peter hale imagines #peter hale x reader #peter hale #cora hale #peter hale imagine #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year ago

Text

Delicate

Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: "Is it chill that you're in my head? / Cause I know that it’s delicate"

Warnings: Angst, death, major series spoilers for people who haven't finished the books

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

Sometimes I wonder, when you sleep / Are you ever dreaming of me?

Luke could admit to himself he wanted his best friend. He had for a long time. In fact everyone could see it, except for her. She seemed blissfully unaware of any feelings Luke had to the point that it made him nervous she was doing it on purpose. But if he couldn’t have her, he’d take the next best thing of being her friend. As long as she was in his life.

It was supposed to be bonfire night but Luke and Y/M had snuck off to the beach. They lay next to each other, staring up at the stars. Well, she was looking up at the stars, Luke was looking at her. They talked for hours about nothing until she finally dozed off.

Given the strict rules about curfew, Luke hardly ever got to see his best friend’s peaceful expression as she slept. Her face relaxed, unburdened by the perils of being a demigod. And as the two oldest at camp, they had a lot of perils.

Luke reached out, stroking her hair. That elicited a content sigh from her and he wondered if she was aware it was him. He wondered if she thought about or dreamed about him nearly as much as he did her. He had an ever present fantasy of absolutely sweeping her off her feet in a moment of glory. One of his favorites was after he won capture the flag, he’d march right up to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and just kiss her.

But of course that would never happen so he kept it stashed in the back of his mind.

He let her sleep for a few more minutes before he finally woke her up. “Hey, you gotta get up or the harpies will get us,” he laughed softly, shaking her awake.

She groaned but opened her eyes nonetheless.

Sometimes when I look into your eyes / I pretend you're mine all the damn time

Her eyes. Luke could probably get lost in them forever. He didn’t even need to watch the stars. He’d much rather watch the reflection of them in her eyes.

Unfortunately, the moment was ruined by one of the Athena boys. “Oh, hey Luke. Um, I just came to find Y/N. Chiron said late curfew starts in five minutes.”

“Really?” she asked, sitting up. “How long was I asleep?”

Luke felt his face get hot. He actually had no idea, he had completely lost track of time while watching her. “Uh not long. I just didn’t want to wake you,” he tried to play it off smoothly.

She gave him a soft smile, her hand finding his knee. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to waste your night.”

“No, no, no,” he quickly corrected. “You’re never a waste of time.”

“So um,” the Athena boy cut in awkwardly. “You want me to walk you to your cabin, Y/N? It’s right across from mine.”

Luke felt a surge of possessiveness. This guy clearly liked her. But before she could answer, Luke did it for her. “We’ll head over in a few minutes but thanks,” he tried to dismiss him.

The boy looked discouraged but tried to play it off. “Oh- uh ok.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Y/N offered, feeling bad for him. He immediately brightened with a smile before retreating back to his cabin.

Luke hated that she always seemed to leave the door open for other guys. They had had numerous conversations about the boys that liked her so he knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose. She just felt bad outright rejecting them so her sugar coating often came across as a signal to try harder. He just wished he could make it clear to them she was taken. Of course, she wasn’t his (yet).

Once Luke was sure he was out of earshot, he brought the topic up again. “He likes you.”

“No he doesn’t,” she immediately dismissed.

“Yes he does, and you trying to make him feel better about rejecting him doesn’t make it any better.”

“I didn’t reject him, you did.”

“Because I know you don’t like him.”

“Who says I don’t like him?” she shrugged.

Luke’s heart stopped. He had been playing defense so well for so long now that it hadn’t even occurred to him that she could like someone else. “What?”

She just shrugged again. “Who’s to say I don’t like him? You chased him away before I could get a word in.”

“D-do you like him?” Luke’s heart was pounding in his chest.

“No, but I’m just saying-”

“Gods, Y/N!” Luke interrupted in relief. “Don’t scare me like that.”

A satisfied look crossed over her face. “Why is that scary?”

He sent her a playful glare. “You know.”

“Tell me,” she pressed.

Is it cool that I said all that? / Is it chill that you're in my head?

Luke’s heart was pounding in his chest. She had basically already confirmed she was into him but the fear still lingered in his chest. He just had to say the words and he’d have his fantasy. She’d be his.

“I like you, Y/N. I have for a long time. I was just always scared you’d… I don’t know, reject me. Or think I was being stupid. But I like you.” Luke looked at her nervously, unsure of what she’d say. His heart was still pounding even when she leaned over and kissed him. As she tried to pull away for air, Luke’s hands found their way to her face, keeping her close. “I’m not done yet,” he mumbled against her lips, eliciting a giggle.

Long night with your hands up in my hair / Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs

That night Luke really didn’t want to leave her but Y/N wasn’t willing to break the rules just yet. He had spent the entire walk back to the cabins trying to convince her to sneak into the Hermes cabin. “Please, I swear no one will snitch on you.”

She laughed, intertwining her fingers into his. “Well what about my siblings when they see I’m not in bed? What will the children think?” By now they reached Cabin 7.

“The children can think whatever they want,” Luke smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips. It was late but several campers were still awake. Word of the couple would spread like wildfire and by the morning, even Chiron would know about the new couple.

But spending every night separately wouldn’t last for long. Y/N normally spent the evenings in the Hermes cabin where they had somehow managed to smuggle many forbidden things in. Like video games and junk food. And every night when the conch blew, signaling that curfew was soon, Luke begged her to stay. “Come on, no one will tell. Will you?” he asked his siblings.

That received a resounding “No!” swearing they’d keep our secret. She looked around the room, her resolve crumbling after weeks of this. “Fine,” she agreed. So many cheers erupted you’d think she just agreed to marry him. “But!” she waited for them to quiet down, “I’m still a counselor and I have to make sure everyone else is in bed.” Luke pouted but let her go nonetheless, promising to drag her back to Cabin 11 if she didn’t come back.

So after putting all the younger kids to bed, Y/N snuck back to Cabin 11. She found it dark but made her way to Luke’s bed. As she reached it, Luke could recognize the outline of her created by the moonlight. “Finally, I was just about to come break down your door.”

“Ha ha,” she laughed sarcastically. “Scoot over,” Luke obliged, sliding against the wall to create room. She slipped under the covers, settling against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her tightly, his face buried in her hair.

“‘M glad you’re staying,” he mumbled. “Feel like it’s easier to fall asleep when you’re with me.” He didn’t say it out loud but he liked having the assurance that she was safe in his arms as they slept.

“Me too,” she mused, her eyes already closed. “But I’ll say you kidnapped me if we get caught.”

“Okay,” Luke chucked. “You can blame me.”

My reputation's never been worse, so / You must like me for me

But those nights were gone now. Luke made his choice but so did she.

“Isn’t it messed up how the gods neglect their kids?” Luke asked as casually as possible, staring out at sea, his fingers tracing the dock.

“Yeah,” she mused. “Can you imagine being an omnipotent, immortal being but you can’t even take the time to tell your kid they belong to you? I mean, Apollo’s been pretty good about it but the others…?”

The pressure in Luke’s chest lessened as she more or less agreed with him. “Or how they treat us as disposable puppets? Like pawns?” He watched her face carefully as she considered it.

“What do you mean?”

Here we go. Luke began chipping at any remaining loyalty she had to the gods. “Well think about it. Thalia? Her godly parents could have saved her. Every demigod who died? Their parent could have saved them. My quest was a joke. All Hermes wanted me to do was repeat one of Heracles’ labors.”

She looked deep in thought. “I guess but why are you asking me about this?”

He took a deep breath before lacing his fingers in hers. “I’ve been uh… talking to someone.” She didn’t say anything but her furrowed brow urged him to continue. “I’ve been told that things don’t have to be the way they are. We don’t have to wait around until we’re killed. The Titan Lord could restore-”

“Shut up right now!” her frightened voice cut him off. She pulled her legs out of the water, shifting her sitting position to face him directly. “Luke! What- how- why are you doing this? So what if you can’t rely on the gods? You certainly can’t trust Kronos anymore.”

He gently grasped her hands. “Y/N, he promised every demigod that joins him immortality and safety. We wouldn’t have to cower in a summer camp with children who most likely won’t make it to their 18th birthdays. Please, come with me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.” That broke his heart. “Luke, I love you. I really do. But I can’t let you go down this path.”

Through his internal struggle with Kronos, Luke could see Y/N staring at him, pain in her eyes. He gripped Annabeth’s knife tightly, saying a silent goodbye to everyone he loved and a curse to Kronos. “I love you,” he tried to say to her but it came out strained. The blade sunk into his only vulnerable spot under his arm—his Achilles heel.

“No!” he heard her yell. But he was already on the ground, beginning to lose consciousness at the fatal blow. But Y/N was kneeling over him, tears leaving tracks on her dirty face. “No, no, no,” she mumbled. “Why, Luke?” she practically screamed in frustration.

He reached up, wiping her tears and some dirt from her face. “Do you still love me? After everything I did?”

“Of course I love you!” she cried. “I never stopped.”

Despite the pain, he was smiling. “I love you too. I’ll see you in Elysium.”

She nodded, trying to smile too but the sobs were clawing their way of her throat. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Not too soon,” he insisted. “I love you, Y/N.”

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #the lighting thief #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #x reader #Spotify

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 8 months ago

Note

oooh 70 on the prompts list with shane would be so angstyyyyy plz i need to see ur thoughts on this -galaxy

This one's got a little kick to it ough

70) "After everything we've been through, you still don't think that I love you?"

......

"Honey..wh..what is this?"

"Can't you read? God, and I thought Alex was the only illiterate man in town-"

"I know what it says! But..I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?"

"Besides being a leech on my income for the past year and not doing a damn thing to make up for it....no."

"..are you crazy? I HAVE been doing my part! Just..take these back to Lewis and tell him you changed your mind. I'm not signing them."

"I don't need your signature. Just mine is enough to finalize it. I've already gotten everything packed for you..since you're too goddamn lazy to do it yourself."

"....what?" Tears stung Shane's eyes as he shakily set the stack of papers on the table, his vision blurring. He stared at you, seeing not an ounce of remorse on your face..but instead pure hatred. "Why would you do this behind my back? I-I thought...you-"

"What? You thought I loved you? Hah." The brief laugh that left your lips was cold. "Who could love a messed-up lowlife like you, Shane? I have a farm to take care of, a community center to restore..I can't have you slowing me down. It was a fun little fling, but now you bore me. I gotta get serious about my work."

"That's...all I was to you? A "fling"?!" A hurtful scowl formed on his face, hands shaking. "What about everything we've-?!"

"I only pitied you. And y'know, if I didn't care about Jas growing up without a father figure..I would've left you in the forest that night. I only stayed and married you to make them happy. But you blew your chance to get your act together..they're gonna be so disappointed in you."

As much as he wanted to respond with a snarky "I didn't know there was a time limit"...he was frozen on the spot, unable to say anything.

What could he say?

This was all so sudden...and just when he thought you two were doing so well and he was starting to have a genuinely positive outlook on life..

He made the horrid mistake of checking the mailbox and finding the dreaded papers.

"I'll say this was 50,000 gold well-spent." You grabbed the papers off the table, looking at the broken man before holding out your hand. "Give me that necklace. I'm gonna sell it."

"No..." Shane shook his head and clutched the mermaid pendant, tears streaking his face as he backed into the corner. "I...I-I'm so sorry, I'll try to be better! Just tell me what I can fix, a-and I'll-!!"

Suddenly you pulled out a dagger and swiped at him, causing him to flinch and shield himself, eyes squeezing shut in anticipation-

Yet he wasn't injured, but when he saw his pendant in your hands now...he felt as though you actually twisted that dagger deep into his heart.

He collapsed to his knees, devastated as you sheathed your weapon and pocketed the amulet you once tied around his neck at your wedding.

By your hands, you two were bonded in matrimony...

And by your hands, that bond was severed.

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm sick of pretending that I care for some lazy ungrateful fuck. Goodbye, Shane."

And with that, you stormed out of the house..and he was left there on the floor, his sobs filling the silence in the now empty cabin.

It was already late when you returned from your mining trip, and once you finished putting the spoils of your expedition into the shipping bin, you yawned and stretched.

The time was 1:10 AM...and your energy was super drained.

You figured Shane was already sound asleep. The idea of crawling into that cozy bed and cuddling with the man you loved had you eager to take off your boots and put your tools away.

However upon opening the door..you immediately caught a faint whiff of beer, and it left a sinking pit in your stomach.

He did bring home a six-pack case today, and he promised to have it in moderation.

But the kitchen trash showed clear evidence of recently-opened cans.

Four out of the six, in fact.

'Oh man..it happened again..'

You knew that he wasn't gonna be able to quit cold turkey just like that. It wasn't a habit he could flip off like a lightswitch, and that's a fact you've come to accept.

Although he had a few beers from time to time, it was nothing like before. And he would always let you know if he was having some....so to realize he drank over half the case tonight alone was alarming.

Why? You were only gone for a few hours..

You entered the bedroom, finding Shane still awake, hunched over on the bed's edge with his face in his hands. He looked completely torn up, and you've never seen him this bad since..

"Shane, sweetheart?"

Startled, he looked up at you, revealing his eyes to be puffy and red from crying. "O-Oh..hi. You..y-you came back?" He hoarsely asked.

"Of course I did..without having to visit Harvey, thank god." You walked over and sat beside him, frowning. "But more importantly are you okay? What's wrong?"

He tried to respond, but the memories of that nightmare made him physically incapable of doing so...and fresh tears welled in his eyes.

A choked sob came out, and as quickly as he tried covering it up--it failed as similar heartbreaking noises followed.

You didn't waste any time pulling him into a hug.

Leaning against you, he sobbed into your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt in tears. But you just hushed him and rubbed his back. He didn't smell too heavily of beer, although it made you wonder what happened tonight that was bad enough to make him relapse.

Was it...you?

Was you being away stressing him out?

Did he think you wouldn't come back-

"[Y/n]...you sure you..really love me? And all of this isn't...a-a joke?" He hiccupped softly.

Those questions made your heart sink, and you briefly pulled away to gaze at him in sadness. You knew he was still struggling with his self-confidence and self-image, often comparing himself to a "squishy bag of flesh" and feeling "too old", but for him to doubt your love?

Even after talking him off a cliff?

Even after going to the gridball game where you shared that first kiss?

Even after giving him the bouquet and mermaid pendant?

"After everything we've been through, you still don't think that I love you?" You asked softly, not with anger, but with worry.

"Just look at me, and look at every other guy in this town. You could'a had a doctor, someone who can still play gridball, a writer who lives by the sea...even that emo guy seems cool. But you chose me..."

With a sniffle, he clutched the mermaid pendant with trembling fingers. "...this pathetic..l-lowlife who doesn't do shit on this farm. I swear I'd change and get my act together, but I'm letting you down again...j-just like everyone else. And I'm so sorry...I'm such a failure." He sobbed harder.

"Wha..that's nonsense. You do more for me and this farm than you could possibly know." You cupped his face, feeling his cheeks grow wet with fresh tears. "You feed the animals, you water any crops my sprinklers could've missed...and those pepper poppers you give me help keep my energy up in the mines so I can come home safely."

"But..I can't even microwave them right." He whined. "I wanna have the energy to cook like you do-"

"What do you mean?" You frowned. "Last week, you made me a killer omelet when I went to bed angry over a Pepper Rex burning my favorite cardigan."

Shane blinked, searching his foggy brain for that memory, before it dawned on him that he actually DID wake up extra early to surprise you with an omelet he cooked on the stove. Made from Charlie's eggs, of course.

"Ah, that's right..well...I guess I'm good at some things.." He sniffled, slowly calming down.

You chuckled softly, thumbing away the rest of his tears, your fingers brushing over his scruff. He recently shaved it, but it grew back rather quickly--like a crop infused with deluxe growth fertilizer.

"You're good at being my partner, and keeping me company after a long day." You kissed him in the lips. "I love you, Shane. Nothing will change that, even if you have relapses."

"I love you, too..and 'm sorry. I just had this really bad nightmare, and I couldn't fight the urge tonight."

"I understand, I'm not angry." Bringing him back into a hug, you sighed as he squeezed you tightly. "Did you wanna talk about it? I know it's late but..I'm sure it'll help us both."

"...you promise not to laugh?"

"I promise."

"I..had a nightmare you divorced me."

"Huh..really?"

"Yeah, you filed the papers behind my back and said some...pretty hurtful stuff, like how it's "the best 50,000 gold you've ever spent", how what we had was just "a fling", and...how I'm leeching off of you." The longer he went on, the more he struggled to swallow back further tears. "And..you took the pendant back by force. With that dagger you always keep on you."

"....."

"I-It's stupid, but it...just felt so real. And when I woke up and you didn't come back from the mines yet, I thought maybe..it actually happened."

"Shane." You shook your head, leaning back again to bring his face into your hands. "No way would I EVER put that much gold towards something that stupid. This farmwork..it's so much to one person to handle, and I'm forever grateful you're here to help me. You're doing your best, and that's all I could ever ask for."

"Thank you.." He nodded, finally realizing that what he dreamed was nothing more than a ridiculous nightmare.

You smiled and kissed him again, making this one last a bit longer before you pulled away. "I'll get you some water, okay? I don't want my baby to have a hangover in the morning."

Shane sheepishly returned the smile, allowing you to get up and go to the kitchen, while he got comfortable in bed and patiently waited for your return. His hand went to the pendant on his chest, relieved it was still there.

Even though you were probably dead-tired from the mines..you still took the time to care for him when he hit another low. You didn't see him as a chore or a leech on your life.

You saw him as your husband, your soulmate..someone you were willing to love through thick and thin even when some days were harder than others.

Of course, his depression might tell him otherwise, and manifest those insecurities into nightmares.

But you'll still be here for him no matter what.

#clanask #galaxy anon #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv shane #sdv shane x reader #shane x reader #angst/fluff #hurt/comfort

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onehundredelevven · 1 month ago

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Domestic life with bf!Toji.

It's a quiet evening in your shared apartment, the kind of night that feels like it's meant for winding down, but with Toji, nothing is ever quite that simple.

You're curled up on the couch, a book open in your lap, but you can't quite focus. There's a heavy presence in the room—Toji leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes never straying far from you. His shirt's tight, hugging his body well, and the air between you thickens with a quiet intensity that only he seems capable of creating without saying a word.

You glance at him, feeling the heat of his gaze on you. "What?" you ask, a playful edge to your voice, though your heart races just a little faster.

He smirks, the same predatory grin that sends shivers down your spine every time. Every damn time. "Just wondering what's got you so distracted, doll. You're supposed to be reading.”

You raise an eyebrow, shifting in your seat. "I'm reading. It's just... hard to concentrate with you staring at me like that.”

Toji's chuckle is low, rough-like the sound of gravel underfoot. He pushes himself off the counter and slowly makes his way toward you, his steps deliberately measured, confident. You don't move, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something that pulls at your insides.

When he stops in front of you, he reaches down, his fingers brushing against your chin to tilt your head back slightly. His touch is light, almost teasing, but you know him well enough to sense the intent behind it. His thumb runs along your jawline, and you swallow, trying to keep your composure.

"You sure you're not just thinking about me?" he asks, his voice smug and a husky murmur as he leans in, his lips hovering just above yours.

You feel the warmth of his breath, the heat between you rising with every second of silence. The space between you is small, too small for both of you to pretend that there isn't an undeniable tension crackling in the air.

"Maybe I am," you say, your voice a little softer than usual. You want to push him, tease him, but part of you is already craving what's to come next. Toji doesn't wait for another word, his lips brushing yours in a brief, almost chaste kiss. It's a fleeting touch, but it leaves you wanting more, that sweet ache of desire you both are too familiar with.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, a glint of mischief dancing in them. "I'm gonna make you regret that," he murmurs, his hand sliding from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you closer with an almost possessive strength.

You gasp softly as he kisses you again, this time with more urgency, his lips pressing against yours as though he's been waiting for far too long. His hand moves to your waist, pulling you up, guiding you effortlessly toward him. The book you'd been holding slips from your hands, forgotten, as you let yourself get lost in the feel of him—his warmth, his scent, the roughness, the passion, the familiar weight of his presence.

As you both step into the rhythm of something more, something more than just playful teasing or lazy evenings together, you're reminded that with Toji, even the quiet moments are never really quiet at all.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, breathing raggedly. "You're mine, right?" he asks, the question more an affirmation than anything else.

"Always," you whisper back, your hands already seeking him, pulling him closer.

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #111dumps #jjk fic #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji fluff #toji fanfic #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen

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surielstea · 3 months ago

Text

Camping Affairs

Kinktober day 4: Size + Hair pulling

Pairing: Lorcan Salvaterre x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Reader and Lorcan have to share a tent and can’t find sleep, they find other ways to exhaust themselves.

A. Note: I’m so sorry this is late, it didn’t post when I scheduled it for some reason 😭😭, anywho, this is made specifically for the lovely @lexluvswriting because I’m simply here to feed her Lorcan obsession 🫶

6.9k words.

"You know, for being Maeve's pride and joys you'd think we'd be given better accommodations," I say as I lay out my bedroll, the tent Her Majesty supplied us with so small it was almost comical.

"We're warriors, not royalty," Lorcan grumbled from the outside of the canvas, giving me some privacy as I stripped from my leathers and into a nightgown.

"Speak for yourself," I scoffed, poking my head out of the flaps to look up at him. "Rowan is a prince," I say matter-of-factly. "Perhaps he could pull some strings and get us all our own tent," I suggest and he looks at me with that sneering expression he always wore.

"We've battled in wars, I think you can manage," He grumbled, motioning with his hand for me to recede back into the tent. I frowned but backed up and sidled onto my bedroll. I tried not to laugh at the sight of the seven-foot demi-fae crouching to stop his head from hitting the ceiling of the tent.

He gave me a glare that I assume was meant to intimidate me but it didn't affect me much when he had to walk on his knees in order to settle on his own bedroll.

All seven of Maeve's blood sworn were called to meet with her in Doranelle, something about the Lost Princess of Terrasan— I wasn't really listening when Rowan was briefing us, all I knew was that I was going to have to pack my life up for the crazed queen I was sworn to, again, and take the week hike away from my comfy home in Varese.

With only three tents, the seven of us were split into pairs. Two per tent, and one on watch outside. Gavriel had posed a system to put the smallest and the largest together, as to avoid uncomfortably in the tents— and I hadn't thought it would be a problem until now. Shoulder to shoulder, with my least favorite of the group.

"Why do you have to be built like a damned giant," I grumble as I shift away from him, the side of me pressing into the wall of the tent. I could've shifted onto my side and separated us a little further— but that would mean I'd have to face him, and at this proximity, I doubt it would be comfortable for either of us.

"Would you rather join Rowan and Fenrys?" Lorcan grumbles, sounding like he was talking in my ear he was so close. I smirk at the idea.

"Can't say I'd be displeased in the middle of that," I purr.

Lorcan sighs, muttering a string of curses, too low to make out. "You're insufferable." He decided on voicing.

"And yet, here we are, stuck with each other," I teased, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. "Don't pretend you don't love it."

He snorts. "I could think of better ways to spend my time."

"Oh?" I hum, turning toward him a little more, my cheek propped on my hand. "What would Lorcan Salvaterre rather be doing right now, instead of sharing a tent with yours truly?"

He shoots me a look, dark and brooding, but his lips twitch. "Not listening to you, for starters."

I roll my eyes. "If you weren't so quiet all the time, maybe I wouldn't have to fill the silence."

"There's silence because I'm trying to sleep," he retorts, though his tone is lighter, almost playful—at least, as playful as Lorcan ever gets.

I scoff, grinning. "Please, you never sleep. You just brood all night like some menacing statue."

"You should be grateful," he says, adjusting his position, his shoulder now brushing against mine. "At least I keep the monsters away."

"Monsters?" I snort. "The only thing I'm afraid of in this tent is your enormous leg crushing me in my sleep."

"You talk too much," Lorcan grumbles, though there's the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"I talk just enough to drive you insane," I shoot back, feeling a strange sense of victory at the idea of getting under his skin. "It's one of my many talents," I add, worsening the blow.

He doesn't respond, but his silence feels different this time. Like he's deciding whether to engage or just strangle me.

"If you're so miserable," I start, stifling a yawn, "you ought to throw me outside and have the whole tent to yourself," I utter, lifting my arms up over my head and stretching out to the best of my abilities.

"Don't tempt me," he grunts, though I don't miss the way his eyes follow me as I stretch, my movements exaggerated just to annoy him.

"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself," I murmur, settling back down. "Without me to keep you company."

"Go to sleep," he says, ignoring my words.

I smirk up at the stars. "Sweet dreams, Salvaterre."

His grumble is the only reply I get, but for some reason, the sound makes me smile.

The silence stretches on for a few minutes, and I do my best to settle in, but there's no ignoring the cramped space and the sheer presence of Lorcan taking up most of it. After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, I sigh dramatically.

"I can't sleep," I announced, knowing he was still wide awake.

From beside me, Lorcan groans, clearly exasperated. "Of course, you can't," he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, rolling onto my side to face him, our faces just inches apart in the dim light.

"That you're incapable of quieting down for more than a minute," he grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"I've been quiet for at least five minutes!" I argue, though I can't help the grin tugging at my lips. "And anyway, it's your fault. You're hogging all the space."

He cracks an eye open, giving me a flat look. "You take up about as much room as a pillow. You have plenty of space."

"Then why can't I get comfortable?" I huff, shifting again, this time letting my arm bump against his on purpose.

"You're sleeping with the wolves tonight." He says like it’s a promise.

I gasp dramatically, my hand flying to my chest. "Lorcan Salvaterre, you would abandon me to the creatures of the night? Leave me defenseless and cold?"

"You're hardly defenseless," he says, but I catch the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I grin, triumphant. "I knew it—you do care."

"Care? I just don't want to explain to Maeve why I let you get eaten by a wyvern," he grumbles, turning onto his side so his back is to me.

I roll my eyes, inching closer just to annoy him. "You'd miss me," I murmur, as if it was an absent thought.

"Like a hole in my head."

I poke him between the shoulder blades. "Liar. You'd be lost without me. Who else would keep you entertained on these long, miserable missions?"

He doesn't respond right away, but I don't miss the way his shoulders tense at my words. "You're assuming I need entertainment."

"You're assuming you don't," I tease, leaning in until my chin is nearly resting on his arm. "Deep down, I know you love it. My sparkling wit, my endless charm—"

He turns so quickly that I almost tumble backward, his face suddenly centimeters from mine. His dark eyes glint with something that makes my heart skip a beat. "You're lucky I don't actually throw you out of this tent."

I blink up at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse races at the proximity. "You'd never."

His eyebrow raises. "You willing to bet?"

I raise mine right back, leaning in just a fraction more.

"I do." There's a brief moment where neither of us moves, the air between us charged with unspoken tension. Then, with a long-suffering sigh, Lorcan rolls his eyes and collapses back onto his bedroll.

"You're impossible," he mutters, covering his face with his arm. "Go to sleep before I do actually throw you out."

I smirk, victory swelling in my chest. "Admit it—you'd be bored out of your mind without me."

"If I admit it, will you shut up?"

"I'll think about it," I hum, settling back into my bedroll, feeling way more pleased with myself than I should.

"Fine," he growls. "I'd be bored."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "See? Was that so hard?"

Lorcan groans again, louder this time. "It was unbearable."

"Goodnight, Lorcan," I say sweetly, curling up and closing my eyes, but I'm still grinning like an idiot.

From beside me, I hear a quiet mutter, almost too soft to catch. "Goodnight."

We lay there in silence for a few minutes, but as usual, my mind refused to settle. The darkness outside the tent feels suffocating, the air thick with anticipation of the mission ahead. I chew my bottom lip, turning over a dozen questions in my head before finally blurting out the one that's been nagging me all night.

"What do you think Maeve wants from us?"

Lorcan's groan is immediate. "You said you'd shut up," he grumbles, not even opening his eyes.

"I said I'd think about it, Salvaterre," I correct, nudging him with my elbow. "Besides, I can't sleep when you keep kicking me."

He huffs out a breath, lifting his arm from his eyes to glare at me. "I haven't moved an inch."

"Oh, really?" I feign innocence, shifting my foot to gently nudge his leg. "What do you call this?"

"That," he says flatly, "is you kicking me."

"I'm just showing you what it feels like," I shoot back, smirking as I prod his shin again.

"Stop that," he growls.

"I will when you answer my question."

"You should be more worried about surviving the week without me strangling you."

I huff, my face burning, but the silence that follows is heavier now—charged with the tension that neither of us wants to acknowledge. After a beat, I clear my throat, breaking it.

"You still didn't answer my question."

He sighs, long and dramatic. "How should I know? Probably some power play involving the Princess."

"Do you think they’ll ally?" I ask, though I know I'm pushing my luck.

He hesitates, his gaze flicking toward the tent's ceiling. "I don’t know," he admits. "Or she might just want us to deal with something different entirely. Maeve doesn't summon all of us for nothing."

I nod, feeling a shiver run through me. "I just hope we don't end up with another war on our hands."

Lorcan shifts slightly, his massive form somehow taking up even more space. "If we do, I'll be sure to shove you out in front to make use of all that 'charm' you keep going on about."

I roll my eyes, kicking him lightly under the blanket. "You're the worst."

He opens one eye to glance at me, unamused. "If I kill you in your sleep, it's your fault."

"Please," I scoff, sitting up slightly. "You couldn't strangle me even if you tried. I'd have you pinned in a heartbeat."

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, one that's more amused than I expected. "You? Pin me?"

I raise an eyebrow, refusing to back down. "You'd be surprised."

He tilts his head slightly, considering me with a dark glint in his eyes. "Go on, then. Prove it."

I blink, caught off guard by the challenge. "What, right now?"

He shrugs, the movement sending a ripple through his broad shoulders. "Unless you're too scared."

I narrow my eyes, inching closer. "I'm not scared."

His lips twitch, just barely, but enough to make my heart pound in my chest. "Then do it."

Before I can talk myself out of it, I shift, moving to straddle his waist. "Okay," I say, though my voice sounds much shakier than I intended. "See? You're completely at my mercy now."

Lorcan, infuriatingly, doesn't look remotely concerned. He just stares up at me, one eyebrow raised, as if waiting for something more. "That's it?"

"Well, I—" I start, but he interrupts by effortlessly grabbing my wrists in one of his massive hands and flipping me over before I can even process what's happening.

In the blink of an eye, I'm pinned beneath him, my back pressing into the bedroll as his weight holds me in place. His face hovers inches above mine, dark and unreadable, though I swear there's a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

"I think that's what you were trying to do," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but with a playful edge.

I glare up at him, trying to squirm, but he doesn't budge. "You cheated."

He leans in slightly, his breath brushing against my cheek. "You didn't give me much of a challenge."

"You're such a brute," I snap, though I'm more frustrated with myself for falling right into his trap.

"I can't believe I made Whitethorn train you instead, this is delightful."

"Oh please, you just forgot the feel of a woman beneath you."

"Care to remind me what I've been missing?" His smirk widens, daring me to say more.

"Depends, what do I get in return?"

"A lesson, maybe I'll teach you what it's like to be beneath someone who knows how to be in control."

His words hang in the air between us, and my breath catches, the challenge in his voice igniting something deep within me. I try to maintain my composure, but the way his dark eyes lock onto mine makes it difficult. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes my heart race, a spark of something primal that sends shivers down my spine.

"Is that so?" I reply, my voice teasing yet laced with curiosity. "And just how do you plan to do that?"

"A demonstration," he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath warms my skin, his lips hovering tantalizingly above mine.

The space between us crackles with tension, my heart pounding in my chest as I hold his gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation. Instead, I find determination mixed with that devil-may-care amusement that is so quintessentially Lorcan. It drives me wild.

"Show me, then," I challenge, emboldened by the heat of the moment.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and before I can brace myself, he captures my wrists in his powerful hands and shifts, pinning them above my head against the soft canvas of the tent. My breath hitches at the sudden thrill of being completely at his mercy, the weight of his body pressing me into the bedroll, a heady mix of vulnerability and exhilaration flooding my senses.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, but there's an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a thrill racing through me.

"Do I have a choice?" I reply, trying to sound defiant but feeling the flush of excitement creeping up my neck.

"Good answer," he says, leaning down, his lips barely brushing against mine, teasingly close yet just out of reach. The warmth of his breath sends tingles across my skin, and I can't resist the urge to lean in, desperate for that connection.

"Stop teasing," I whisper my heart racing, the air thick with unspoken tension. "Just kiss me already."

With a low growl of approval, he closes the distance, capturing my lips with his in a fierce, passionate kiss. It's electric, a jolt that sends sparks dancing along my nerves, igniting every inch of my skin. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the taste of him—warm and intoxicating.

His lips move against mine with a hungry urgency, coaxing me into the rhythm of it. I respond instinctively, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, urging him on. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of us, entangled in the heat of the moment.

I can feel the weight of his body pressing into mine, the way his strength envelops me, sending a rush of desire coursing through my veins. It's overwhelming and intoxicating, igniting a fire within me that I didn't know was there.

I part my legs and he adjusts, slotting between them— gods it was an effort for my legs to even widen enough. He grabbed my thigh in one of his large hands and guided it up higher, then the other, until I was in a mating press beneath him. He smirked against my lips, his hands moving to trail up my sides. "Now you're really at my mercy," He purred and my core thrummed in anticipation.

"Lorcan," I panted into his open mouth, unable to find the words to tell him how badly I needed this.

"As much as I love the sound of you moaning my name, I need you to stay quiet for me, yeah?" He asked and I sucked in a breath, nodding all too quickly, too desperately.

He smirked at the reaction and captured my lips with his yet again, devouring me as he pried my mouth open with his tongue, exploring me with it, not missing a spot uncovered.

I tugged at the waistband of his pants and he captured my wrist before I could tug them down much further. "Not yet, I need to stretch you out first," He warned, his tone brooking no argument.

I let out a soft whimper of protest and he pressed his mouth onto mine, his voice softening as he said, "I don't want to hurt you, be patient for me and I promise I'll make you feel good alright?" He reassured me, his thumb brushing over the pulse point of my wrist before releasing it.

I nod slowly, slipping my hands into his silky black hair while he pushes up my nightgown.

He practically tore through my panties without a second thought, then froze for a moment before making contact. His eyes flicked to mine and I returned his stare with pleasing eyes and a rapid nod. He leaned down, below my lips and to the line of my jaw, making his way down the column of my throat before his calloused fingertips came to contact with my pulsing cunt.

His lips morphed into a malicious smile as he felt just how badly I needed him, the way I was practically dripping down his hand. "So wet, and here I was thinking you hated me?" He drawled against my skin, kissing down my chest and then back up to the hollow of my throat.

I tug at his hair, silently begging him for more. "Lorcan," I whine, words failing me as I arch into his touch, attempting to get even the smallest taste of pleasure. "Please, touch me," I swallow past the lump in my throat.

"I am touching you, love," He whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear.

My brows furrowed, features contorting with need. "Inside of me, please," I beg. A smirk pulls at his lips and he leans closer, gently pressing his lips to my cheek— too gentle to be casual. But I didn't have time to weigh the action because suddenly he had two fingers pushing inside of my aching cunt, stretching me out.

A gasp escaped me and he swallowed it greedily before connecting our lips again, silencing me.

His long, calloused fingers pumped skillfully into me, grazing against my contracting walls. "Fuck, you're tight," He breathed as I clenched desperately around his hand, gripping his hair but not pulling. His other hand snaked up my propped-up thigh, pinning it down with a possessive need.

His thumb met my clit and it took everything in me not to scream, to cry out his name. "That's it," He encouraged. "Such a good girl, staying quiet for me," He praised, making the tension in my core tighten until it was nearly unbearable.

My overwhelming need for release was all-consuming, every thrust of his fingers, every roll of his thumb sent me reeling. He knew I was close, knew from the way I was trembling beneath him— I knew that he knew, but still, I cried in protest when his hand stilled.

"Not yet," He warned softly, pulling his hand out of me entirely, leaving me empty and aching. I opened my mouth to protest, to beg him to keep going, but he cut me off with a searing kiss, swallowing my complaints with his lips. "I said, be patient," He whispered against my mouth, his tone dark and commanding. "And when you come, it'll be on my cock. Understood?"

I nodded quickly, my breath coming in desperate pants, the tension in my body screaming for release. But I clamped down on my objections, not wanting him to drag this out longer than he already meant to.

His smirk widened, pleased with my compliance, and he finally rid himself of the last of his clothes, his pants hitting the ground with a soft thud. The sight of him—broad and powerful, his skin glistening in the dim light of the tent—made my pulse quicken, and the need to feel him inside me surged with renewed intensity.

He moved to get rid of my clothes too, still bunched at my hips. Luckily he didn't rip it off of me as he did with my panties, instead guided the material over my head, baring me to the brisk night air and his intense gaze.

"Beautiful," He whispered softly, pressing a claiming kiss to the top of one of my breasts. My lip wobbled with a need to moan but I held it down, instead distracted myself with the sight of him.

His shirtless figure was a sight to behold, carved muscle and a chest as hard as marble, but it was what was below his torso that made me pause.

I had expected Lorcan to be big, but gods. I had been with many men in my immortal life, and still, he made me freeze.

His smirk widened as he noticed where my stare was directed. He settled himself between my thighs, his broad frame dwarfing mine. I could feel the heat of him pressing into me, so much of him. My breath hitched, and his dark eyes flicked down, catching the way I bit my lip as he aligned himself at my entrance. His size alone had me trembling, and he knew it—relishing in the subtle way my body tensed beneath him.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I almost feel bad," he whispered, "about how much I'm going to stretch you out."

A low whimper escaped me, and I felt his grin against my skin. My fingers curled into his hair, tugging lightly as I drew him closer, desperate for more. His eyes darkened as I pulled harder, and I could feel the tension ripple through his body.

"Be good for me, love, and stay still," he purred, voice a velvety rasp. His hips barely moved, teasing me with the blunt head of his cock as he pushed forward just enough to stretch me—just enough to drive me wild. He pulled back before I could feel the full pressure, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he watched my hips arch off the bedding, chasing him.

"You're so desperate," he murmured, his breath hot against my throat, "so needy." His tone was teasing in a way that would usually enrage me, but the way he said it sent a rush of heat to my core instead, making me clench around nothing, aching for him to fill me.

"Lorcan," I whispered, my voice trembling as I shifted beneath him, trying to ease the ache. He groaned at the sound of his name on my lips, and the tension in his body told me he was holding back, keeping himself in check for my sake.

Slowly, torturously, he guided himself to my entrance, the blunt head of his cock teasing me, stretching me open just enough to make me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he began to push forward, the burn of the stretch sending sparks of pain-laced pleasure through my core.

"Fuck," I breathed, my eyes squeezing shut as he inched deeper. He was so big—bigger than I'd expected—and I had to fight to keep my breaths steady as my body adjusted to the size of him.

Lorcan paused for a moment, letting me catch my breath, his large hand caressing my thigh in slow, soothing strokes. "You're doing so well," he murmured, his voice a low rasp, full of restraint. "Just relax for me."

"Stay still," he breathed, voice rough as he pulled back just enough to make me whine, the emptiness unbearable. "Gods, it's hard to control myself when you keep moving like that."

A shiver ran through me at his words, my core clenching around him as he pressed forward again, slow and deliberate, giving me every thick inch of him until I was stretched impossibly full. My legs trembled as they tried to accommodate his size, and his hands came down to hold them steady, lifting my thighs higher, and spreading me wider beneath him.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his voice dropping to a growl as he adjusted his angle, sliding deeper still. "Good girl, taking me so well."

I whimpered at the praise, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging harder now, desperate to feel him move. His breath hitched, a low moan escaping him as I pulled, and I could feel the way it affected him—how much it pushed him closer to the edge of his restraint.

But Lorcan wasn't one to be rushed.

He withdrew agonizingly slow, leaving me panting beneath him, aching for him to fill me again. "You can handle a little more, can't you?" he teased, his lips curling into a smirk as he saw the need in my eyes. My hands moved from his hair to the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back down to me, urging him on, but he caught my wrists with ease, pinning them above my head with one large hand. The contrast in size was startling—his fingers easily wrapping around both of my wrists, holding me completely at his mercy.

He leaned down, his lips barely brushing mine as he whispered, "Stay still, or I'll make you wait longer."

A soft whimper escaped me, and he chuckled darkly, pleased with my compliance. Slowly, he started to move again, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing out the delicious stretch, making me gasp as he filled me completely, finally bottoming out as his hips pressed into mine.

My body trembled beneath him, the intensity of it building with every slow, torturous thrust. I could feel the thick slide of him inside me, the way my walls clenched around his cock, desperate to hold him, to keep him deep inside. But Lorcan kept up the slow pace, each thrust deeper than the last, drawing me out, making me feel every inch of him.

"Fuck, so tight," he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with desire. His free hand slid down my side, gripping my waist as he pulled me closer, his hips rolling into me with a new intensity that made me see stars.

"Lorcan," I mewled, writhing beneath him, bucking my hips up to meet his

He let out a low growl as I continued to disobey his order to stay still. "If you keep doing that," he warned, his voice thick with strain, "I'm not going to be able to stop myself."

"Then don't," I breathed, my voice trembling as I arched into him, wanting—needing—more.

His eyes darkened, and before I could say anything else, he was moving again, faster now, his thrusts more intense, each one hitting deeper, making me cry out in pleasure. He swallowed my moans with his mouth, devouring me with a kiss so fierce it left me breathless.

Lorcan's hand, the one not gripping my wrists, slipped between us, his thumb brushing over my clit with just enough pressure to make me gasp, my body jerking beneath him. "Stay quiet," he reminded me, his voice a low growl as his thumb circled slowly, teasingly. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear, would we?"

I shook my head frantically, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out as his pace quickened, the tension inside me building unbearably with every push and pull of his powerful hips, every circle of his thumb on my sensitive clit. I was so close, so on edge, but I knew he wasn't going to let me go just yet. He wanted to drag it out, to make me feel every second of it.

His lips ghosted over my ear as he whispered, "I love how small you feel beneath me—how perfectly you fit around my cock."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, making my walls tighten around him in response. I could feel the heat of his body pressing into mine, the steady rhythm of his thrusts making me dizzy with desire. The way he filled me, stretched me, it was almost too much—almost, but not enough.

I wanted more. I needed more.

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at me, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. "Gods, you're so fucking tight," he growled, his voice low and guttural as he picked up the pace, thrusting into me harder, deeper. My body arched beneath him, instinctively chasing the pleasure only he could give me.

His hand, still holding my wrists above my head, tightened its grip, his other sliding down my body to grab hold of my waist, pulling me against him with each thrust. The intensity was overwhelming, but I craved every second of it. His thumb returned to my clit, circling it with maddening precision, making my toes curl and my breath catches in my throat.

I bit down on my lip, desperate to keep quiet as he'd commanded, but it was nearly impossible with the way he was driving me to the brink, over and over again. I could feel the pressure building in my core, a white-hot ball of tension that threatened to unravel me at any moment.

"You close baby?" Lorcan rasped, his voice rough as he ground his hips into mine, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. His thumb pressed harder on my clit, the friction sending shockwaves through my body.

I nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words, my head spinning with the need for release.

"Beg for it," he commanded, his breath hot against my ear as he continued his relentless pace, driving me wild. "Beg me to let you come."

I whimpered, my body trembling beneath him as I struggled to find the words. "Please, Lorcan," I whispered, my voice shaking as I arched up against him, desperate for more. "Please, please I can't hold it— I need it, Lor."

He groaned at my words, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic, his control slipping. "Good girl," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Go ahead, come on my cock."

With those words, the tension inside me snapped. My entire body clenched around him, my back arching off the bed as I came undone, the wave of pleasure crashing over me so violently I saw stars. I bit down on my lip, stifling the scream that threatened to escape as my orgasm tore through me, every nerve in my body alight with sensation.

Lorcan let out a low, guttural groan as he felt me clench around him, his pace faltering as he chased his own release. His hips snapped into mine one last time, burying himself deep inside me as he came with a low growl, his body trembling with the force of it.

For a long, breathless second, neither of us moved, the sounds of our ragged breathing the only thing filling the air. But as the intensity slowly ebbed, Lorcan pulled back, his smirk already returning to his lips. He let out a satisfied hum as he leaned down to press a lazy kiss to my jaw. "See? You can follow orders when you really want to."

I swatted his chest weakly, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Don't get used to it," I said, still panting, though my voice had a playful edge to it.

He chuckled, rolling off me and settling onto his side, his large arm draped possessively over my waist. "I don't need to. You'll break soon enough."

I snorted, feeling the familiar banter falling back into place. "You're dreaming, Salvaterre. If anything, you're the one breaking. You were practically trembling back there."

His dark eyes flashed with amusement, and he leaned down to brush his lips against my ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "If I was really trying to break you, you wouldn't even be able to walk right now."

I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the grin tugging at my lips. "Bold words for an old man who can barely control himself."

He raised a brow, his grip on my waist tightening just enough to remind me of his strength. "Care to test that theory?"

I shot him a challenging look, though the heat still lingered in my veins. "Maybe next time," I teased, flipping onto my side to face him, our noses brushing and suddenly the tent didn't feel all that small. "You've got to save some energy if you plan on keeping up with me, after all."

His eyes glinted with amusement, and the playful edge in his smile sent a shiver of anticipation through me. "Oh, you have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into,"

With a wink, I scooted a little further from him— well, as far as I could, feigning innocence. "Well, in that case, let's see if you can keep your hands to yourself until morning."

Lorcan's low chuckle reverberated in the tent, his eyes gleaming with challenge as he watched me. "Go to sleep already," He insisted. I look at him, staring at his features softened by the moonlight filtering through the canvas.

And as I settled back into the blankets, his body warm beside mine, I couldn't help but smirk, knowing that the game between us was far from over. "Goodnight, Lor," I mumble quietly.

The faint light of dawn filtered through the tent, pulling me from sleep. The warmth of Lorcan's body was missing, and the space beside me felt cool to the touch. I blinked groggily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I rolled onto my back, pulling the thin blankets over my bare body, the events of the previous night replaying in my mind.

I swallowed hard, my heart thudding as I thought about everything—what it meant to have crossed that line with Lorcan. We'd been stuck in this tense back-and-forth, pushing each other's buttons ever since I met the male, but last night had changed everything, we stepped past a boundary we couldn't come back from. A part of me wondered if it would be different now, or if he'd go back to being the brooding, impossible male he was before. My chest tightened, but I pushed the thought aside. No use overthinking it, especially when we had a mission to accomplish.

I took a deep breath, sitting up and squaring my shoulders as I reached for my clothes, trying to act as normal as possible. We had orders and obligations, and I couldn't afford to be distracted by what happened between us. But gods, it was hard to ignore the lingering ache in my body, between my legs, the reminder of how thoroughly Lorcan had claimed me.

I ran my hands through my messy head of hair and braided it back to have somewhat of a semblance of neatness. With my nightgown replaced by my gear, I slipped out of the tent, the early morning air crisp against my skin, my boots crunching on the fallen leaves. As I approached the campfire, I spotted Lorcan among the rest of Maeve's blood sworn—all gathered around, the smell of campfire smoke filling my senses.

The moment I stepped to where the rest sat, Fenrys' head snapped up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, well," he drawled, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement. "Look who decided to join us."

I forced a casual smile, pretending I hadn't noticed the way the rest of the males exchanged looks. "Good morning," I said, keeping my voice steady, though I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I kept my eyes off Lorcan as I took a seat beside the white wolf, ignoring the tension in my stomach that was somewhere between knots and butterflies.

Lorcan didn't say anything, but I could feel his presence in front of me, his tall frame looming over the fire as he flipped something on the skillet. I couldn't tell what it was amidst the flames, but with the way Vaughan and Rowan were wincing something told me it was a bird one of the others seemed good enough to eat.

Rowan raised a brow at me, his sharp gaze flicking between Lorcan and me before he smirked. "You sleep well?" he asked innocently, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed him.

I shot him a sidelong glance. "As well as I could, considering someone was snoring."

Fenrys snorted, nudging Gavriel on the other side of him, who was trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. "Must've been some noise last night," Fenrys said under his breath, not bothering to hide the grin that tugged at his lips.

Heat surged to my face, and I glared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gavriel gave a soft cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, while Fenrys outright cackled. "Don't worry," Fenrys said, flashing me a wink. "No judgments here."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I was sure my expression was betraying me, but I shot back, "How sweet of you, Fenrys."

"You know, if you ever grow bored of the brooding male you could always come join me in my tent instead," Fenrys added, leaning back on his palms with his signature smirk. "I could show you what it's like to really be loud," He suggested and I swore Lorcan's knuckles turned white he was gripping his hunting knife so tightly. But he remained steady, didn't so much as look at us as he awaited my reply.

"Tempting, Fenrys, but I think I'll stick with what I have. Once you go tall, dark, and brooding, it's hard to go back." I say, flicking my gaze past the fire to Lorcan, whose shoulders visibly relaxed.

Fenrys clenched at his chest, pretending to be mortally wounded. "Ah, so it's like that, is it?" he quipped, but the glint in his eye said he was far from offended. "I guess I'll just have to find solace in knowing I could've changed your life forever."

I grinned, leaning back on my hands as I shot him a mock-sympathetic look. "You'll survive, Fenrys. I hear rejection builds character."

He was about to retort when Rowan chimed in, his deep voice filled with dry amusement. "I don't know, Fenrys. After last night, it sounds like she found someone more than capable of showing her a good time."

My cheeks flamed as I glared at Rowan, though I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You too, huh?" I shot back.

Before Fenrys could continue the teasing, Lorcan finally broke his silence, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Don't you have better things to do than gossip about things that don't concern you?" He still didn't look up from the skillet, but the hard set of his jaw and the tension in his broad shoulders were unmistakable.

Vaughan, silent as ever, gave a half-shrug, tossing a stick into the fire as he added his two cents, his voice calm but amused. "Considering the noise last night, it kind of does concern all of us."

A chorus of snickers followed, and even Gavriel cracked a grin. My face went up in flames, and I buried it in my hands. "You all need better hobbies," I muttered into my palms, but it did nothing to stop the laughter ringing through the camp.

I turned my head just enough to catch Lorcan's eyes as he finally glanced over at me, the firelight flickering in his gaze. The corner of my lips lifted in a challenging smirk.

"If you lot are done, breakfast is ready." He moved and passed me a plate, his warm hand brushing against mine for just a second—a flicker of something unspoken passing between us—before he turned back to the skillet.

The knowing looks from the others didn't stop throughout breakfast. Fenrys continued to make sly comments, Rowan smirked every time Lorcan so much as glanced at me, and even Gavriel, the most serious of the group, couldn't completely hide his amusement.

I had managed to block all of their comments and snickering remarks out, but for some reason, I wasn't able to shake the stare Lorcan had pinned on me.

I looked over to him and for a moment his eyes flicked down to my lips, a challenge. I smirked, beckoning him to test the silent boundaries. He didn't move, but he didn't look away either, and something told me we were nowhere near finished with each other.

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svnluns · 2 months ago

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The bell had just rung for lunch, and I was hustling to get to my usual corner in the library before the chaos started. I didn't have time for him. Or maybe I just didn't have the energy.

But life's funny like that, isn't it? As I turned the corner near my locker, there he was, leaning against the wall like he'd been waiting for me.

"Look who's finally here," Theodore Nott said, his voice smooth and way too smug for someone who had no reason to be. His dark eyes flicked over me like I was something to be studied-or maybe devoured.

I tightened my grip on my books and kept walking. "Not today, Theo."

But of course, he didn't let it go.

He never did.

"C'mon, I'm just trying to talk," he called, and I could hear the grin in his voice even before I felt him fall into step beside me.

"No, you're trying to make my life miserable," I muttered, shoving my locker open harder than necessary.

He leaned a shoulder against the next locker, his arms crossed, watching me with that stupid, cocky smirk.

"Miserable? That's dramatic, don't you think? I think you love the attention."

I slammed my locker shut and spun on him. "I don't. Not from you."

That should've shut him up. But instead, he just stepped closer, way too close, crowding into my space like it was his right. "Liar," he said, his voice lower now.

I froze. He wasn't joking around anymore; there was something darker,

more dangerous, in his tone.

"What are you even doing?" I asked, my voice softer now, not because I wanted it to be but because I couldn't seem to help it.

He didn't answer right away. He just studied me for a second, like he was deciding something, and then he tilted his head. "You want me to stop?"

I swallowed hard, my heart racing in my chest. "Yes."

He smiled, slow and sharp, like he knew I didn't mean it. And before I could say anything else, his hand was on my waist, pulling me just enough to throw me off balance, his other hand bracing the locker behind me.

"Tell me to back off," he said, his voice so close I could feel it more than hear it.

I should have. I could have. But instead, my breath caught, and I just stared at him, caught between wanting to push him away and wanting.. something else.

That was all the permission he needed.

His lips were on mine before I could think, soft but insistent, and it was like every ounce of tension we'd been building for months came crashing down all at once.

I gasped, and he took full advantage, his tongue brushing against mine in a way that made my knees weak. My books tumbled to the floor, but I didn't care-I was too busy tangling my hands in his stupid, messy hair, pulling him closer, like that could somehow make the fire in my chest burn any less hot.

"Fuck," he muttered against my lips, his hand sliding from my waist to my hip, gripping just enough to make me shiver.

"You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Look who's talking," I shot back, my voice breathless, but even as I said it, I was pulling him closer, chasing his mouth like l'd lost my damn mind.

The sound of footsteps somewhere down the hall made me break away, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. "Someone's gonna see," | whispered.

He didn't seem to care. His eyes were on me, dark and intense, his lips red and swollen. "Let them."

"Theo-"

"No," he cut me off, his voice firm as he cupped my face with both hands. "I'm done pretending I don't want you. And I think you're done pretending you don't want me."

I should've said something. I should've pushed him away, walked off, done anything other than what I actually did.

Instead, I pulled him back in, kissing him like I was trying to burn every shred of doubt out of both of us.

Because maybe he was right. Maybe I was done pretending, too.

#niccolo govender #lorenzo zurzolo #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x y/n #baby netflix

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sl-ut · 10 months ago

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more streamer!ellie hcs

been wanting to make another one of these for a while now so here we goooooo

part one | part three

ellie loves having her gf on stream as often as she can

they always let chat vote for who gets to choose the game that they play, but y/n wins probably 90% of the time

ellie pretends to be annoyed when she picks the sims or minecraft

but in reality she really likes sitting together and making each other and building their dream life

she made her simself have huge muscles, was mad when her girl just laughed and made them more realistic

when she won, she liked to pick horror and rpg games

she loves trying to act all big and bad and "protecting her girl"

meanwhile she's holding onto her for dear life and screaming at the top of her lungs

when she's on her own, she likes playing any type of game with voicechat

she always ends up fighting with and cussing at some random kids across the country

she gets so wild whenever one of them calls her a virgin

always freaks out at them before beginning to brag all about her super hot gf that they couldn't even dream of having and they wouldn't even know what to do with that

she gets a "???" text from her girl a few seconds later

she takes little gf breaks during the stream, where she literally sprints out of the room, kisses her, and rushed back

her insta is so dumbbbb

like its literally a compilation of stupid memes, random photo dumps, brand deals, and the most well edited and gorgeous photos of her girlfriend

her tiktok really took off after they started dating too

she makes thirst traps and also the most wholesome lovely dovey vids about her relationship

she loves reposting fan edits of them

as mentioned in the first one, ellie's gf is also in the public eye

i think i've decided that she's an up and coming singer/actress

ellie loves going to major events with her

she always looks like a wet dream like

she likes to wear suits of some kind where the top is partially unbuttoned and her hair is slicked back and ughhhh

don't get me wrong, she looks so good and fierce in her solo pics

but anytime you're anywheres near her that night, she's got the most obvious heart eyes anyone has ever seen

whenever ellie goes with her for press events y/n's manager immediately know its gonna be a gold mine

theres always some kind of promo that's literally just the two of them cuddling

once y/n gets her big break they 1000% get offered a ck campaign

the whole thing is them doing domestic stuff together and being all cute and sexy and ellie looks so DAMN GOOD in her boxers and bralette

she literally spends the whole day leading up to her stream with her gf bc she's "gonna miss her" during the 3-4 hours that they're apart (even tho she's calling her in every 30 minutes just to say hi anyways)

wears stupid shirts on stream that she custom orders

they all say stupid loser gf shit or just have a picture of your face on it

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie smut

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protagaster · 3 months ago

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Part 1 of the Warrior!Penelope Swap AU

Just a heads up, some of the vignettes in this AU will be structured around the songs in the musical, and some will be short stories detailing the events of the Odyssey (like the prequel did)

Credit to Tumblr users @vioofc and @too-much-flynnolium, for their own ideas surrounding their warrior!penelope AUs led to inspiration for mine!

(Cross-Posted on Ao3)

The Horse and the Infant

After 10 years of war, of battle and bloodshed, the Greek army has finally gained the upper hand against the Trojans.

From within her Wooden Horse, Penelope vows to do whatever it takes to end this war once and for all. Whether she is truly up to the task, the Gods will see…

Growing up in Greece children are taught to beware of Pandora’s Box: though something may appear to be enchanting on the outside, what it hides within could bring devastating consequences.

Penelope was thankful the Trojans did not heed the warnings behind this tale.

The people of Troy underestimated her and her armies, for no greater reason other than the fact they happened to be women. All of Troy assumed that Greece was in a dire state, for why else would the Greeks have to resort to sending their women to fight in their men’s stead.

While most of her comrades were offended by this notion, Penelope saw an opportunity to finally turn the tides of war in their favor.

Everything went according to plan. By pretending to sail their ships back home the Trojans assumed the Greeks to have surrendered. This left them cocky, feeling invincible, to the point they did not question the mysterious “gift” left at their gates.

They brought the beautiful wooden horse into the heart of their palace, not knowing their very own “Pandora’s Box” was about to be unleashed upon their city.

Penelope let out a deep, steady breath.

Inside that very same wooden horse her comrades sat patiently by her side, their clenched fingers fidgeting on the hilt of their weapons. The eyes of her sisters-in-arms were hungry with scorn, their red and gold armor eager to be stained with Trojan blood.

Penelope looked at each and every woman who had chosen to place their trust in her. The Queen of Ithaca’s confidence had never been higher.

The night was silent and the atmosphere calm. There would be no perfect moment rather than now.

Penelope stood. In her posture she managed to portray the grace of a Queen, the strength of a Spartan, the innate blood-lust of a warrior of Ares, and the anger of a Mother.

Her comrades, women who fought both willingly and not against their society’s views to stand by her side, who were forced to part with their futures and families over the course of 9 years, they gazed upon their Captain with only the highest of respect and admiration in their eyes.

After all, it was only with her leadership that they had all managed to survive up to this point.

All 600 of them.

Penelope held her head high, addressing her comrades. Her friends. Her sisters.

“Alright my sisters, listen closely.” She spoke to them in a hush but commanding voice. “Tonight, we make the Trojans pay.”

“These years of war have killed us slowly, but now we'll be the ones who slay!”

Penelope’s eyes dulled in the middle of her speech, her mind momentarily retreating into its most sacred place.

Home. Ithaca.

“Think of your husbands and your children!”

Many of the women grew angry, recalling how many of their spouses were now permanently maimed and broken because of the Trojans. How their children were forced to grow and mature without their mothers, all because of this damn war.

“Your families wonder where you've been! They're growing old and yet you're still here,”

Penelope couldn’t help but look at her hair, not as vibrant as it once was 9 years ago. She couldn’t allow this war to go on for another decade. Not after so much time has been lost already.

“Do what I say and you'll see them again!”

“Yes ma’am!”

The women snuck out of the wooden horse, moving with as much quiet and stealth as they were physically able. Each soldier remembered her role, of what Penelope had ordered of them.

“Aegiale will lead the charge,”

“Clytemnestra will flank the guards,”

“Helen of Sparta will let our mates through the gates to take the whole city at large,”

“Eune will shoot any ambush attack,”

“And little Glauca will stay back,”

“Eury, free Menelaus and the others,”

“Hermy, help your betrothed, kill Hector's home and brothers!”

“Yes ma’am!”

Penelope watched from the shadows, beaming with pride at the success of her army.

Her plan was coming to a monumental success. The Trojan warriors, men trained in the art of combat from the moment they could walk, were being hunted from the shadows, one by one, as if they were livestock.

Less and less guards roamed the halls, their bodies lying against each other in a hidden corner of the palace. The palace walls, once an elegant and expensive marble white, were now stained with the vibrant stains of war-red.

Troy was now vulnerable.

“Find that inner strength now, use that well of pride!” Penelope reminded her sisters. “Fight through every pain now, ask yourself inside: What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?”

Every woman reminded herself of why it was she fought, their answers ranging deep within themselves.

“What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?”

Penelope stared down at the helmet in her hands, unable to forget what it represented. It was specially made just for her, with a metal said to be indestructible. She remembered when it was given to her, only one day before she was forced to leave her home.

She could never forget the tearful gaze, apologetic and filled with love, of the man who gifted her this helmet.

Oh how she missed him.

“Odysseus…”

How she longed to see those intelligent eyes once again.

“Odysseus…”

She couldn’t help but recall the time those eyes beamed with pride as they fondly looked down at the very symbol of their love.

“And Telemachas…”

Her baby girl, whom she had only known for a single year. What did her baby look like now, 9 years later?

“I fight for us…”

This was for them.

“I fight for us!”

Fighting in this war, aiding her cousin, empowering her fellow woman, following the whim of the Heavens themselves. All of it was for them!

Not for Greece. Not for the Gods. Not even for her.

For them.

What do you live for?

“Odysseus.” Penelope whispered to herself.

What do you try for?

“Telemachas.” Penelope stared at her reflection from the helmet’s surface.

What do you wish for?

“I'm on my way,” Penelope placed the helmet over her head, taking hold of the very spear that started her down this path.

What do you fight for?

She was going to end this.

Now.

“Attack!”

The Greek army made themselves known by jumping out for the shadows, startling the Trojan warriors unlucky enough to be missed during their secret infiltration of the palace.

Penelope and the others wasted no time inflicting their carnage upon the once untouchable Kingdom. The Trojan warriors were startled at first, desperate to know how their indomitable palace could have been so easily infiltrated.

It did not take long for them to ready themselves, determined to keep their Kingdom from being painted with even more of that familiar war-red.

But it was all for naught.

It did not matter that the Trojan warriors were male; it did not matter that they were bigger, stronger, and more durable than their female counterparts.

For the Trojan soldiers fought to maim, whilst the Greek soldiers fought to kill.

These women recalled how they were forced to watch their husbands leave, only to return one year later with their bodies shattered and spirits broken. They recalled that feeling of loathing and helplessness, unable to even think about avenging their men until permitted by the Gods.

They remembered the shame on their husbands’ faces for not being able to protect them from fighting in their stead; remembered how their children cried, pleading for them to stay, for the younglings were unable to bear the thought of both parents being destroyed by the war.

No. Troy had every chance to end this war. Now they suffer just as Greece has, for even the Gods have sealed the kingdom’s fate.

Tonight, Troy will die.

Penelope, now inside the main court of the palace, speared the throat of one of the Trojan men attempting to slice the back of one of her women.

There was only a small army of them within that court, both Trojan and Greek alike. The majority of the Greeks fought at the gates of the palace, keeping their adversaries from storming the vicinity.

The warriors fighting by Penelope’s side, only her most trusted sisters-in-arms, worked together to keep themselves and each other alive. Using their many hours of intense training, innate battle prowess, and the blessings bestowed upon them by Ares and Artemis, the women had achieved what was previously thought to be impossible: gaining the upper hand against the Trojan men.

Bodies littered the dance floor of battle, all of them of Troy. Through Penelope’s strategy, not a single Greek had fallen.

However, as she speared and cut down her enemies, Penelope couldn’t help but notice the Trojan soldiers began fighting sporadically; as if they were desperate to keep her and her comrades from infiltrating the palace any further.

But why?

Suddenly, Penelope felt a sharp sting to the back of her head.

“Ahh!” She collapsed to her knees, rubbing her head to find some relief from the dimming pain. “Who was that?!”

Quick to recover from her bound of shock, Penelope threw herself back to her feet and gripped the hilt of her spear. She was prepared to defend herself against the Trojan foolish enough to strike her.

What her eyes fell upon, however, was not one of the large, daunting men of Troy.

It was a Peahen.

However, this was no ordinary peahen. She was not a modest brown like the rest of her peahen kin. No, this one had her feathers bursting with the familiar blue and green seen on her male equivalents.

The feathers atop her head had the appearance of a crown, her eyes glowing an eerie white and gold hue.

Somehow, against all logic, Penelope found herself more fearful of this fowl than she had ever felt against the Trojan armies.

“A vision…” A voice suddenly appeared in Peneleope’s mind.

Penelope knew instantly that the voice was coming from the Peahen. The voice was feminine, deep, and full of power. She spoke the same way Penelope would when sitting upon her throne, addressing her subjects.

“Of what is to come, cannot be outrun. Can only be dealt with right here and now…”

From that moment she knew the true identity of the Peahen.

Hera.

Queen of the Gods.

Mother of the Heavens.

“Tell me how.” Penelope asked of the divine Queen.

“I don't think you're ready...”

The Peahen was honest with the mortal Queen about her thoughts, yet continued with her declaration.

“A mission. To kill someone's son, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before…”

The Peahen walked with grace as she spoke, silently beckoning the mortal to follow. The disguised Goddess led the Greek to a secret staircase, the very thing the Trojan were trying to hide.

Penelope instantly understood what the God-Queen was commanding of her.

“Say no more!” Penelope ran up the stairs, confidently holding her spear in anticipation. “I know that I'm ready!”

“I don't think you're ready…”

Penelope pushed the double doors at the end of the stairs open, eager for her spear-point to make contact with Trojan flesh and to finally end this war once and for all.

She would not have been surprised to see a bulking man waiting for her behind those doors. After everything she’s gone through in the past 9 years, Penelope genuinely thought herself to be immune to the kind of surprises the Gods could throw at her.

Unfortunately, the Gods never did follow the whims of the mortals they ruled over.

There was no man standing behind those doors. In fact, no one stood behind them.

There was only a cradle.

Penelope’s eyes widened. Unconsciously dropping her spear, she walked over to look inside the beautiful bassinet.

There he was. Not a cruel man filled with sin, but a babe. Innocent. Pure. Sleeping with not a worry in the world.

“It's just an infant…” Penelope couldn’t help but hold her hand out, stroking the child’s untainted cheek. “It's just a boy…”

The baby leaned into the warm hand caressing his cheek, recognizing the hand of a mother.

“What sort of imminent threat does he pose that I cannot avoid?”

The Peahen, once perched on the ledge of the window in front of the babe’s cradle, spread her wings and flew into the sky.

“This is the son of none other than Troy's very own Prince Hector!”

Clouds started to surround the flying Peahen. They wrapped around the fowl, slowly covering the beautiful bird in white mist. In seconds the Peahen disappeared, the place where she once hovered now a perfectly shaped mass of clouds formed into the appearance of a tall, beautiful, regal woman.

Commanding the clouds around her with a flick of her wrist, the woman shaped one of them into a tiny baby. The cloud-baby morphed, transforming into the figure of a large grown man.

“Know that he will grow from a boy to an avenger! One fueled with rage as you're consumed by age…“

The cloud-man brandished a cloud-sword, slicing at smaller clouds shaped into a crowd of defenseless people.

“If you don't end him now, you'll have no one left to save…”

Hera commanded some of her clouds to begin filling the room, surrounding Penelope and the cradle. She modeled the clouds into the form of a very beautiful, very comforting, very familiar man.

“You can say goodbye to-”

Penelope’s eyes widened, staring at the face of the man whose life she cherished far more than her own.

Odysseus…

This cloud-Odysseus, more detailed than any of the other cloud creations Hera had created, stared longingly at the Greek woman reeking of blood. He smiled, that oh-so familiar smile she had longed to see for the past decade.

“You can say goodbye to-”

Odysseus…

The cloud-Odysseus gazed down at the baby in the cradle. There was this look in his eyes, this desire to cherish and protect. Penelope knew this look well, for it could only be known by a fellow parent...

No!

Penelope couldn’t do this. She was a mother! Her role in life was to treasure and protect children, not discard and kill them!

“I could raise him as my own!”

“He will burn your house and throne.”

No…

No!

Penelope needed to find a way!

“Or send him far away from home!”

“He'll find you wherever you go.”

There had to be another way!

“Make sure his past is never known!”

“The gods will make him know.”

Why was Hera doing this? Why couldn’t she understand!? Penelope can’t do this!

The mortal threw herself down, bowing before Hera in a desperate final plea.

“I'd rather bleed for ya, Down on my knees for ya-”

“He's bringing you down on your knees…”

The Queen of Ithaca couldn’t hear herself, the Queen of the Gods overpowering everything within her.

“I'm begging please-”

“Oh, this is the will of the gods!”

Hera’s voice boomed. Commanding. Declaring. Inevitable.

Penelope shook her head, slowly and in disbelief. Her chest felt heavy and constricting, making every breath a difficult and pained one.

…how…

“Please don't make me do this…”

How could she be expected to do this? Something so evil, so cruel?

Something so monstrous?

“Don't make me do this…”

Penelope didn't know when she began to weep, only realizing when her tears splattered on the cold, hard ground.

She felt a hand being gently placed atop her bowed head. This hand, once commanding and brimming with devastating power, now offered an ironic sense of comfort.

From one who was also a Queen.

A Soldier.

A Wife.

A Mother.

“The blood on your hands is something you won't lose…”

The hand’s presence disappeared, along with the many clouds surrounding her person.

The cloud-Odysseus, whose eyes Penelope couldn’t bear to meet, took hold of her chin. This hand, as large and scarred as she remembered it, held her with a firm gentleness she knew was reserved only for her.

He tilted her head up, compelling her to meet his gaze. Again, Penelope recognized the look he was giving her. It was the same one he always gave her: eyes filled with a warm, comforting love.

“All you can choose is whose…”

The cloud-Odysseus faded away, still gazing upon her with those eyes until he was fully gone.

Would the real Odysseus continue to look at her that way, knowing what she was about to do?

…

Penelope waited.

…

And waited.

…

And waited.

…

Nothing.

Hera’s presence was no more.

All that was left was Penelope, blood-soaked and guilt-ridden, and the baby, still sleeping with not a worry in the world.

Penelope said nothing. She could only stare at the boy, the very symbol of innocence before it was tarnished.

Slowly, soundlessly, Penelope picked the boy up. She cradled him gently in her arms, similar to the way she held Telemachas after bringing her into the world. She wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

Then, without a word, Penelope made her way to the roof of the palace.

#epic the musical #the odyssey #swap au #warrior!penelope #penelope of ithaca #hera #odysseus x penelope #the horse and the infant #canon divergent au #canon rewrite #canon compliant #my fic

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