#most of the time that happened its not me playing favourites | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

Text

~ Mafia!Stucky Mastlist⍟✪ 📚~

Hello lovely, I hope you’re having a great day. I thought it was about time I made a list dedicated to my favourite boys, so welcome to my Mafia!Stucky masterlit!I love to write in my spare time, and the fiction I create is for 18+ readers ONLY. Also, everything is character x fem!reader, and please, read the tags carefully before continuing.

Masterlists ♥ A03 ♥ Tags ♥ Question? ♥ latest works ♥

you're mine (smut, angst, dark)

Steve loves showing off what’s his, you. What does eh do when he sees someone staring at what is his?

i need more (fluff, smut)

You’d been off all day and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Steve. He’d do anything to make you feel better so when you started begging him to help you have some release, he didn’t hold back.

ruined orgasm - kinktober (smut)

He had given you one rule: do not interrupt the meeting. So, of course you had to walk straight into the meeting that had all of America’s most noterious gangsters

steve's birthday wish (P.1) (fluff, smut, angst)

It was approaching Steve’s birthday and you had no idea what to get him. Bucky suggests just asking the Mafia boss what he would like, but would you regret your decision when you hear what Steve truly wants.

When Two Become Three (P.2) (fluff, smut)

It has been a few weeks since Steve sat back and watched your be pleasured by his best friend Bucky, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Especially, the part where Steve confessed his fantasy to have a threesome, but would you ever agree to it?

one more meeting (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

For all of the years that you had known Steve and Bucky, you had never seen them lose control of their anger. All of the murder and violence always being calculated, calm, and dangerous. But today, that all changed and for the first time in years, you were truly scared of the boys you loved.

repeat after me(fluff, smut, angst)

It wasn’t often that you had to attend a party with your boyfriends but today, you found yourself at one, filling you with anxiety and dread. How will the boys react when they find you close to a panic attack and starting to doubt their love for you?

how many?(fluff, smut)

Steve had finally found time to take you and Bucky on holiday. What he doesn’t tell you however is that today, he wanted to see just how many times he and Bucky could get you to orgasm.

i can’t lose you (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

Being the girlfriend of the Mafia leader and his second in command had its dangers but for years, you'd never had to experience this. Until now. How will the boys react when you're put in danger?

no touching (fluff, smut, angst)

You blatantly ignored their instructions and now you had to suffer the repercussions for your actions.

i don’t care (fluff, smut)

'The reader having a menstrual cycle, this one just a little worse than others, and Steve and Bucky worrying and helping her through it.'

the one weakness (fluff, smut, angst)

It wasn't often you were by yourself so when you quickly go to the coffee shop, what happens when the enemy is watching and waiting nearby.

overwhelming (fluff)

It had been your birthday a few days ago and both Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party followed by intense, long nighttime activities. However as you lay in bed on Monday morning, something just didn't feel quite right.

the fun game (fluff, smut)

Steve and Bucky had forgotten about your date, leaving you waiting for two hours in the restaurant. How will they react when you decide to play your own little game as payback and, how far can you go before they finally snap?

harder, please (fluff, smut, angst)

Your mind was clouded with lust and pleasure, as you begged repeatedly for more from Bucky but, what happens when you get hurt in the process?

protect and forget (fluff, smut, angst)

Life as the girlfriend of the Mafia boss and his second-in-command was not always smooth sailing, everything did not always go to plan. Two weeks before your birthday, a threat was made to your life. What happens when Steve and Bucky begin to push you away as they search for the threat?

All Eyes On You (smut)

“Do you know what we would have done if we had turned up to that restaurant and seen you all dolled up like that? We would have bent you over the table in front of everyone and shown them exactly who you belonged to". - Steve Rogers

you belong to me (fluff, smut, angst)

These girls knew you were dating Steve and Bucky, so why is it that they thought it was ok to have their hands all over them?

dont fall asleep (fluff, smut, angst)

It was supposed to be a normal day, but not in fate's eyes as you and Sam are hit by a drunk driver. How will Steve and Bucky react when they hear their girls been hurt?

rule number one. (fluff, smut, angst)

It was Bucky's birthday but even a surprise party won't stop Steve and Bucky from punishing you for not looking after yourself.

Last Hope (CH. 1) (CH. 2) (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

Before dating Steve and Bucky, your life felt like a steel cage that you couldn't escape from because of your family business. There was no happiness or hope but, what happens when the infamously heartless mafia leader, Steve Rogers, finds you alone?

our little bean (fluff, angst)

You stared unblinking at the Doctor who had just told you the news you couldn't quite comprehend. You were on birth control, so why is the test in his hands saying that you're pregnant? Accidents happened but is this a happy one? (Yes it is).

the limit (fluff, smut, angst)

Everyone has a limit, this includes Steve and Bucky. What happens in different situations where each of you felt compelled to use your safewords?

sick day (fluff)

Bucky had warned you that dancing in that rain without a coat would lead you to be ill, maybe you should have listened more to his warning.

accident’s happen (fluff, smut, angst)

You were visiting a friend when you were accidentally hit in the face, leaving behind a cut across your cheekbone. How will Steve and Bucky react when they see their girl injured?

everyone is breakable (fluff, smut, angst)

Steve and Bucky were invincible in your eyes. They'd never been injured or in a situation where you thought they weren't the ones in control. That is until one day Bucky doesn't return from meeting with a client.

winter soup (fluff, smut, angst)

There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right?

something new (smut)

The mafia leader was known to be possessive and enjoy showing off his girl but what happens when he wants to do this by being intimate in front of his gang?

pegging - kinktober (smut)

Steve had once instructed bucky how to pleasure you but what happens when you’re the one being given the instructions?

cockwarming - kinktober (smut)

You’re feeling needy and restless so Steve offers you something to suck on, much to Bucky’s amusement.

double penetration in one hole - kinktober (smut)

You were adament to prove Steve wrong and do something you’ve never done before.

fear play - kinktober (smut, dark)

You woke up to darkness, your phone was missing and, all you could was silence echoing around the house but, you knew you weren’t alone.

role reversal - kinktober (smut)

For once, you were the one shouting at the enemy, demanding that they leave your office. Steve and Bucky were in awe so you tried to keep up this confidence and burn off some energy with them.

Duke, Duchess and Knights (fluff, angst)

You get so lost in the fantasy dream that when it turns into a nightmare, you're not sure what reality is when you wake up screaming.

Merry Christmas (fluff, smut)

It was a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year?

Safety Measures (Angst, Smut, Fluff)

It was the anniversary of Steve and Bucky saving you from your sadistic brother. Usually, it was a time of celebration for you, but this year, you couldn't help but feel paranoid and unsafe.

Drabbles

The first to give their jacket when reader is cold

Mad & Sad moments

Saying the wrong thing

TikTok trend: no kissing

Who is more protective?

safe space in your new home

Halloween Costumes

#mafia!stucky #mafia stucky #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #mafia au #mafia!stucky masterlist #mine*#mafia stucky masterlist #steve rogers masterlist #bucky barnes masterlist

2K notes · View notes

jamespotterismydaddy · 1 year ago

Text

Little Bride

daemon x niece!reader smut

A/N: based on a request here! also i don't understand high valyrian conjugation so kepa just means father in every time it's used

TW: smut!!, incest, DUBCON, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, spanking, exhibitionism because of under the table shenanigans

word count: 1,563 words

You haven’t seen Daemon since you were seven years old and you’ve missed him deeply. Everyone says that he hates Alicent Hightower’s children but he always said you had the true blood of the dragon running in your veins. You were always his favourite but it’s been over a decade since his latest exile and you most definitely aren’t a little girl anymore.

“Zaldrīzes riña.” (dragon girl) You hear from behind you as you make your way to your chambers. Only one person calls you that.

“Kepus?” You say as you turn around and squeal when you lay eyes on him. You run down the hallway and throw your arms around his shoulders before blushing when you realize how unladylike your actions are. You slowly remove yourself from him. “Sorry.” You say timidly. He laughs.

“Don’t be. I don’t remember the last time someone was so thrilled to see me.” His eyes take in the sight of you but you don’t notice the predatory nature of his gaze. “You’ve grown, little girl.”

“That’s what happens when you are away for so long.” You say petulantly. He chuckles and looks over you. His eyes fixate on the swell of your breasts. He seems like he may say something when he’s interrupted.

“Should you not be preparing for supper, daughter?” The voice of the Queen rings out as she shoots the filthiest glare at your uncle. Your mother hates Daemon.

“Of course, your Grace.” You say and curtsey before running off, shooting your uncle a passing smile.

“I'll see you at supper then, zaldrīzes riña.” Daemon calls out after you. He looks to your mother. “Hello, Alicent. You’re looking well.” He says with a wolfish grin and makes himself busy with greeting another noble before the Queen can retort.

~~~

When you arrive to the family dinner that night, Daemon has saved a spot next to him for you, much to your mothers dismay. You take it eagerly.

“Glad to have you home, brother.” The King says as he raises his cup and you all follow in suit, toasting to Daemon’s return.

The room falls into steady conversation, steady enough for people to not notice when

Daemon whispers things in your ear that make you blush.

“This is a very pretty dress, niece.” He says as he plays with the collar of the gown. His hand begins to trail down it. “Very expensive fabric.” The roaming hand decides on its destination being your upper thigh.

“T-Thank you.” You say with a light smile as he turns his attention elsewhere, talking to your father about things that you don’t understand.

After a few moments, the hand on your thigh begins to move. You sigh in relief, hoping he will take it off and relieve you of the warm feeling in your tummy but that isn’t what happens. Your uncle’s hand moves discreetly to the hem of your skirts, and to your dismay, he begins to lift them. You give him a pleading and confused look, not really sure what’s happening but he doesn’t even look at you as he seems to be fully focused on his conversation with your father.

You take a sip of wine, trying to distract yourself, but it only causes you to choke as you feel his fingers ghost over your smallclothes.

“Are you alright?” Daemon says in a faux-concerned tone as you cough. You only manage to nod in response before he goes back to ignoring you.

He slips his fingers to the side of your undergarments and pushes them to the side so he can feel how wet you are. You could swear you see a slight smile twinge at his lips. You try not to look at him, or anybody, as you feel his two fingers slip inside of you. You hope you don’t give anything away with your face as you reach down to clutch his hand, trying to pull it away, to make him stop, but it’s to no avail. Your attempts are almost pathetic with how little they do to faze him.

The whole scene of it is filthy, Daemon talking politics with his brother as his fingers pump in and out of his virgin niece’s soaked cunny right next to him, her father right across the table from the two of them. One look at the princesses face could have them both found out as she tries not to squirm in her seat.

You feel yourself edging closer to your peak but it never comes. You’re humiliated by the whole act of it but you feel needy for him when he pulls his hand away. You hold in a visible reaction even though it seems that Daemon wouldn’t know the difference as he acts like he never even touched you.

For the rest of dinner, you’re unfocused. Aemond tries to make conversation with you but you can’t do much more than nod and give short answers. You’re very much in disbelief that you hardly realize when supper has ended. Your brothers and sister leave quickly. Your mother left early with your father because of his sickness. You’re left alone with your dear uncle and some servants.

“Leave us.” Daemon says and the servants scurry out of the room.

Your uncle stalks over to you and you keep inching away until you hit the table. He towers over you. You still feel like a child next to him.

“Kepus.” You try to speak sternly. “What you did was wrong and you shall not do anything like it again.”

“If it was wrong then why did you like it so much?” He looks you in the eyes as he grabs your chin and tilts it up.

“It was terribly improper.”

“Hmm. I think you liked the attention. Daddy never gives you any, does he? And mommy is too focused on her problem child.” He says condescendingly.

The hand that doesn’t hold your chin goes to your waist. He traces up and down… the curve of your hips… of your breasts.

“I’m a princess. I get more than enough attention.” You say petulantly but your voice wavers.

“Then why haven’t you pushed me off?” He asks and you immediately try to push him away… pathetically. It’s little effort for him to turn you around and bend you over the table with your hands pinned behind you. “Dumb girl. Look at your trying to put up a fight. It’s not nice to deny kepa.” Kepa, he says, not kepus.

“Get off of me!” You try to squirm under his grasp.

“What happened to the girl a few hours ago who was so excited to see me?” He teases as he begins to use one hand to hike up your skirts.

“Kepa-... kepus, stop now!” You cringe when you call him the name he just referred to himself as.

“Aww so you like calling me that. You want daddy to take care of you.” He gets your skirts to your waist and you feel the cold air when he tugs your smallclothes.

“No, kepusss.” You whine at him and squeal when his hand slaps your ass.

“That’s not what you’re meant to call me, baby. And you need to be quiet, don’t want the guards outside to hear when i’m pounding the little princesses cunny, do we?”

“But… kepa i-i’m meant to save myself for my husband.” You say when you feel something long and hard rubbing between your thighs. His hand snakes around and he shoves two fingers in your mouth.

“Good, then i’ll get to bloody my cock with your maidenhead.” He says simply before shoving himself inside, the fingers in your mouth barely muting your scream. “That’s it, just take it and suck on kepa’s fingers like a little baby.” He says as he keeps bullying his cock inside of you. “Gods, you’re so fucking tight.” He lays another smack on your ass. “I’m gonna put a baby in you, make you mine.”

“Mmm.” You moan around his fingers, starting to realize that you enjoy the treatment once the pain has somewhat faded. He fucks into you as hard as he can, making you see stars.

“I’ll make you my wife and i’ll eat this little cunny every night, have you screaming and begging for me as you cry.” His hands grip your hips roughly and you can feel the formation of bruises coming on. He lets go only for a second so he can spank your ass a few more times because he just loves how you whimper.

You feel him finally start to slow and the deep, lasting thrusts are what sends you over the edge. You have never came so hard as you squeeze around him and feel yourself tense up. He fucks you through your high before spilling his seed deep inside you.

“Fuck.” He says as he takes his fingers out of your mouth.

You still feel molded to the shape of his cock even once he’s pulled himself out.

He wipes your drool away in an almost loving way and then helps you turn around so you can sit on the table. He situates himself between your thighs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You did so well, zaldrīzes riña.” He presses a few more kisses to your face and you blush at the tender action. “You’ll make a perfect bride.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

#daemon smut #daemon #daemon targaryen #daddy daemon #daemon targaryen smut #hotd #hotd smut #daemon x reader #daemon x you

3K notes · View notes

mullermilkshake · 1 month ago

Text

The last time.

—-Minors DNI—-

Yandere!Satoru Gojo

Tags: Breed kink. Breeding. Kidnapping. Imprisonment. Unprotected sex. Plotting murder. Cream pie.

"Fuck me like it's the last time." That's what you say to Satoru's face after you have everything ready to make your move and run from him.

It's certain that if you stay here, Satoru will trap you in other ways, and you aren't about to let that happen. It's taken meticulous planning to get to this point, earning his trust finally and getting your leash extended enough for wiggle room.

Satoru takes your statement as a challenge, but constantly reinforces the face that you aren't leaving and that this is all role play. He doesn't deny that it is turning him on, going further in gorging himself on his favourite kink.

He needs to breed you.

You aren't sure where it's come from, you don't want to know either. You've been lucky so far, despite his best efforts and bold disappointment when nothing came of it.

Relief.

The last time doing this and the last time seeing his smug face before you disappear and vanish into the night. Satoru won't ever find you, you've made sure of it.

Satoru fucks you. His thrusts are hard and unforgiving, repeating over and over how you'll stay with him, bear his children and somehow be alright with raising them for his legacy he's been pressured to fulfil.

Not a fucking chance.

You let him, taking the chance to think of all the good times you'll have after you leave, but the danger you'll be in to ensure he never finds you.

Satoru Gojo isn't as trusting as he might appear. Time and exhausting effort to throw off this sniffer dogs nose. He never seems wise to it the entire time, how you'll leave him in his bed and fight the urge to slit his throat in his sleep.

After he comes inside you for the very last time, he takes a hold of your wrist and drags you out of the bedroom, throwing you back into that awful closet he had you in when you arrived here.

"C'mon, you really think I don't know? I thought you were intelligent." Is all he says before slamming the door shut with his grin the last thing you see into the darkness.

With his come still leaking between your thighs.

Yandere!Suguru Geto

Tags: Murder. Indoctrination. Choking.

"Fuck me like it's the last time." Suguru hears you loud and clear.

He understands what you are saying, and takes it as literally as possible.

Originally, you hated the idea of being with him after he snatched you up, but he convinced you that his logic was the way forward. that he was the way forward. And eventually, you started to believe it yourself.

Now, you applaud his reasonings, even go as far as to thank him for doing what he does. You aren't sure when it was, but there is a moment in the timeline from when you first met to now, that urges your brain to enjoy it whenever he takes a life.

Almost to the point that it impresses you how he does it with such ease. Though it's most probably due to the fact that it fascinates you. You battled with the guilt for the longest time, shaming yourself against your better judgement until you became numb to it.

Numb. Like now. The last time. Suguru decides the best way to fulfil this request its to lace his slender fingers at your throat, whispering filthy things into your ear to allow the dark spots at your eyes to collect around the outside.

He presses just right, light pressure, enough to hear your gasps of pleasure as you watch all the red on his face, on his open yukata to reveal his bear chest. Yes, he had killed again, but that doesn't deter you to let the bubbling itch in your abdomen grow and grow until you can't take it anymore.

The agonising part is that he fucks you slowly, dreadfully teasing until you come around his cock and he tells you what a good girl you are.

This path isn't one you ever saw yourself walking, but you guess you're in too deep now to ever think about leaving him.

Yandere!Kento Nanami

Tags: Psychological abuse. Spanking. Humiliation.

"Fuck me like it's the last time." It's supposed to be a comment to throw him off, but to be honest, you aren't sure why you said it.

Kento in hyper critical of you all the time. There's a spec of dirt on your face, your hair is out of place, your shirt is crooked, you haven't taken care of your nails. He's always picking up on something wrong.

You fought it originally, but when you realised that you weren't getting anywhere, you stopped. Now, you let him have his say, correct it and go about your day like he doesn't exist.

It's always manners with him. Watch your posture, manage your words and stop using curse words like they command the room. Verbally, you reel it in, though internally, you scream and say every word under the sun. You constantly think of all the ways you want to hurt him, to kill him.

There are many ways to kill a man.

At first, when you asked this of Kento, you assumed he would pick up on the curse word and reprimand you. But he doesn't. He never says a word, he only leads you up to the bedroom and sits down on the bed.

He asks you to bend over, to lay across his lap with your clothed ass pointing up. It makes you feel like a petulant child, you hate it. He's done this before, because he has picked up on how you said the word 'fuck'.

Kento pulls your leggings and panties over your ass and leaves it there, bulging at the plush of your thighs. He tells you that he won't sleep with you, not right now. Which meant that he's going to make an example of you.

At least if he is fucking you, the crack of his hand making the connection with your bare skin, isn't nearly as embarrassing. But alas, he doesn't, he strikes your ass in the weighted silence, heavy with burden and humiliation.

At least if he fucks you and finishes all over your stomach, there's a likely chance he'll fall asleep. Then you can have a moments peace to yourself. Trying to escape him is impossible now, you can't count the the amount of times you have tried on ten fingers anymore.

Ten times he spanks you, cupped hand with the extra sting he likes, his free hand laying flat on the small of your back like it's supposed to soother you, but it's not.

It's to keep you there so he has control.

Kento always needs to have control.

Yandere!Ryomen Sukuna

Tags: Mark making. Physical abuse. Rough sex. Dubious consent. Shaming.

"Fuck me like it's the last time."

Why the fuck did you just say that? You think it was a way to stop him glaring at you the way he just did because you were sure he was going to make your day miserable.

Sukuna actually laughs at this, cackles even. He says that it's not up for debate, there is no chance he would ever let you get far enough to make this the last time. Because he will always find you.

You have not ever attempted to escape him, it's like he can read your mind and even the slightest whiff of a plan to leave makes him give you the look as though he would burn you alive right where you stand.

He thinks you're weak, in comparison to him, you are. But your spirit is much stronger than he assumes, even if he can see straight through you.

There's no point in trying to fight him, no chance to slip from his grasp as his nails dig in with those little present shapes over your skin. Little deeper marks when his nails are especially sharp. You're sure he does this purpose, just to watch your eyes wince no matter how much you try to hide it.

"It it's to be the last time, let's make the most of it." He says, taking you in his bed like an animal howling in the night.

Terrifying. Ghastly. A demon unlike anything you ever read in books. The cursed man believes in no boundaries, no safe words. Just pure raw sex, hormones to run rampant while he's balls deep inside you. The bare skin slaps and sucks each other in until you are screaming from under him.

He only laughs. This is exactly what he wants. What he craves.

Just what he expects from his little pathetic whore.

Yandere!Toji Fushiguro

Tags: Forced marriage? Restraints. Power imbalance. Marriage. Psychological tactics. Cunnilingus.

"Fuck me like it's the last time." You said it out of anger.

You want it to be the last time. Truly.

Most days you often ask yourself how in the hell Toji managed to persuade you to get married. The old ball and chain as they said back in the day.

You didn’t realise that it meant an actual restraint around your ankle. Not that Toji needs it to keep you right where you are, but you assume it’s for dramatic effect.

There isn’t a day that goes by now that you don’t hate his guts, often questioning yourself how you even said yes to him in the first place.

It’s odd, because you don’t even remember.

Today, Toji promised he would let you out again after much deliberation. Like a fucking dog more like. It angered you, the only reason you have been kept inside was because the cashier spoke words to you while Toji stood right there and watched. How were you supposed to pay if you did not talk?

Why did you say yes to marrying him again?

You don’t remember. You only remember how he uses his tongue over your body because he claims to own it. He tells you this every time, because the difference in power between you is so immense.

You can't leave even if you tried.

This whole thing is fucked, while you get fucked. Toji enjoys eating you, pulling every guttural moan from your lips so he can savour it because no one else has the privilege to hear it. But you know it’s because he’s insanely possessive over you. It’s unhealthy. This relationship is unhealthy, yet he’s convinced you to stay.

How?

After he makes you come a few times, you’re in a daze. Is that when he convinces you?

You’re married. He gets half of everything you own. Everything you worked hard for. What does he actually bring to the table besides some misinformed ownership over you?

At times it’s like he wants you to divorce him, but still keep you here. It’s obvious he will make things difficult for you.

He always makes things difficult for you.

Yandere!Choso

Tags: Obsessed. Mentions of making a family. Missionary sex. Attempted break up.

"Fuck me like it's the last time." You have had enough of Choso’s clingy nature, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. You’re tired of it.

One last time, and then you will see whether or not you would leave. The connection is there, but his protective, over bearing nature is suffocating.

Choso looks at you like you have just broken up with him point blank. You haven’t. But you are unsure of how to proceed with this.

He tells you he’ll do anything to keep you happy. He will do anything. He’d steal for you, hurt for you, kill for you. Die for you.

It’s all very intense.

You can’t live this way, you know this when he holds you, pulls you close and presses precious little kisses all over your face, your neck. He holds your hands softly, lacing your fingers with his as he leads you over to the bed.

Choso makes love to you slowly, intimately, whispering all sorts of nonsensical drivel. He loves you. He adores you. He wants you to be in his life forever, live in a little bubble, start a family together.

He wants it all with you, he says as much as he’s inside you, rutting slowly, sensually enough it allows you to clear your mind.

This is not healthy.

But how can you deny him now after he’s saying all of this?

When he comes inside you, he draws back to look down at you, staring up at him.

“I love you. This isn’t the last time, is it?” He strokes your hair and presses his lips to your nose and he loves you, it’s true.

How can you deny this now?

This is not healthy.

336 notes · View notes

cybernaght · 1 year ago

Text

The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe.

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”.

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours.

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we?

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals.

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation.

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth.

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space.

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality.

Part two. Microanalysis

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling.

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season.

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal.

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal.

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works.

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time.

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever.

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding.

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs.

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain.

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To.

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another.

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership.

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another.

Three, Intentionality

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed.

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media.

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic.

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking.

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way.

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness.

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here.

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all.

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo?

I do.

#fandom thoughts #fanon #good omens #good omens 2 #bbc sherlock #merlin bbc #think piece #it's been years and I still have no idea how to tag #conspiracy theories #fandom content #all fandoms

2K notes · View notes

deepestnightcolor · 7 months ago

Text

☾ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢᴜʏ ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: HERE I AM WITH ANOTHER SAM SMUT! I seriously don't know what happened here, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Just a small disclaimer: don't go around hitting people, kids. Use your big words for big emotions!

Thank you for your time and all your love!~

PS: bonus points to whoever finds the tiny easter egg.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x afab!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 4045 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: weird, drunk guy hitting on the reader. Sam getting protective and physical. Guard dog Sammy. Mentions of blood, the taste of blood, and bruises.

Cowgirl position, making love bites, dirty talk, cream pie, Sam is a little obsessed in his fuck-drunken mind, cock-piercing, pierced tongue.

Believing in Sam had always come naturally to you. The moment he showed you his guitar and the way he could handle it, you knew he had potential. That is why you never minded coming to his band practice; you enjoyed cheering him on, giving his cheek a kiss after each session and smiling at him, praising him in a gentle voice.

Sam loved having you as an audience. Everything about you made him want to be better. He taught himself your favourite songs, just so he was able to see your face light up when you recognized the melody. Sharing his passion with you was easier for him than with anyone else. At first, he had thought your personality was the reason for that, but when you kissed his cheek after one of his practices and the first thing he had felt was the wish that you would kiss his lips instead, he began to consider that there perhaps was more than just the trust he showed you.

After all, whenever Sam had doubts, he would come to you.

Whenever he didn’t know what to play, he would come to you.

Whenever he felt like he had to show someone a new song he taught himself, he would come to you.

That is why no one was surprised that he would come to you once his band had landed its first gig in Zuzu City. Blue eyes glistening with excitement, his whole body trembling while he tried to refrain from jumping up and down as he relayed the news. You laughed with him, hugging the blond tightly to your chest. “I knew it was only a matter of time,” you told him. And he believed it.

That was also the reason you stood in front of a stage in Zuzu city, wearing your most adorable outfit you knew was one of Sam’s favourites, given the way his gaze lingered whenever you had it on. In fact, he had given you the expected reaction when you had stepped up to the bus; first squishing you to his toned chest, just to stare once you had pulled away. His voice had been hoarse as he complimented you, telling you that you were an absolute beauty tonight. You had smiled at him, your fingers running through your hair as you leaned towards his ear just to whisper some words that would spin around Sam’s head for the whole ride. “You look deliciously hot as well, Sammy.”

Deliciously hot, huh? He had never heard you call anyone else like that. Did that mean something? That was entirely possible, wasn’t it?

The way you stared up at him while he was on stage definitely made him wonder. But he was not innocent, either, because he stared right back. Each song he announced, he announced for you. Each special solo was dedicated to you. Each look with hooded “fuck me”-eyes that seemingly danced over the crowd was dedicated to you. To Sam, this whole fucking show was for you. And you drank it all up.

In fact, you were enthralled enough you didn’t even notice the guy who pushed up to you as Sam thanked the crowd. All that mattered was Sam, and his voice whispering a good night to the crowd. His blue eyes landed on you again, and you took the chance to smile at him, blowing him a kiss.

“You alone here?” a voice next to you suddenly slurred over the noise of the crowd, which meant that its owner must have been incredibly close. You turned your head slowly, meeting a guy’s face. He seemed drunk already, and the grin he gave you certainly wasn’t one of good intentions. You cleared your throat and took a step back, scratching your neck. “No, no really.”

“Huh, that’s smart for a pretty girl like you.”

You gave an awkward smile, not wanting to tempt the stranger into attempting any further conversation as you turned around, trying to make your way to the bar. You had exchanged two sentences, and you were already desperate to escape the situation.

You were able to make it to the bar and ordered a drink that you could down before finding Sam, when suddenly, a hand landed on your hip, using the leverage to spin you around. A gasp left your lips, your muscles tensing when you saw the drunken man again.

“Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you. Somebody should teach you manners.”

You grit your teeth, trying to squirm free of his grasp. His hands were sweaty and felt uncomfortable – disgusting - even through the fabric of your clothes.

You had never been in a situation like this, not in all the years you had lived in Zuzu. Your eyes trailed to the stage automatically, trying to make out the blond hair. Maybe he would catch your gaze and-

“I am talking to you,” the voice snarled, making your attention snap back to him. His hand was still on you, and you wanted to get it away from you.

“Fuck off,” you hissed, squirming again and finally being able to get rid of his hand.

“That is no way to talk to someone. Especially for a pretty girl like you. Maybe I should take you home and-“

“Didn’t you fucking hear? She told you to fuck off.” A familiar voice, a voice that felt safe. Sam had emerged from the crowd, pushing past the guy to stand next to you.

“And who are you?”

“Her fucking boyfriend. Also telling you to fuck. Off.”

One of the blond’s arms was quick to snake around your waist, pulling you into his side with a quick tug. Again, a hand was on your hip, but this time you felt much more comfortable. Much better.

The happy glint that had been in his eyes while he was on stage had vanished and was replaced by something dark. Something you had never seen cloud those pretty blue eyes before. It almost seemed possessive.

The stranger cleared his throat, and for a moment, it seemed like he would retreat without any other word.

But then, everything went down fast.

“Fine. No one wants a cheap slut like you, anyways.” The drunk man hadn’t even finished spitting on the ground in front of his feet before a fist connected with his jaw. Sam, the man who played the SpongeBob theme song when bored and loved the minions had thrown the first punch, and a good one at that. The sheer power behind it made his opponent stumble backward, the blond using the opportunity to now step in front of you.

“Don’t. You. Call. Her. That!” he growled, his fist already lifted for the next hit. The guy, despite the level of alcohol that he probably had in his system, was fast, though. He shot back up and allowed his knuckles to meet Sam’s face, but his aim was off. His head knocked with a light cracking sound to the side. You let out a loud gasp, and desperately tugged on the man’s shirt, trying to get him away from your harasser. “Sam. Come on. Let’s go.”

But Sam had started something. And he would finish it. You were absolutely shocked as he aggressively shoved the guy, who now had blood on his knuckle. He used the distraction he had created to hit his face again, this time sending him to the ground with a grunting sound. Trying to defend himself while falling he scratched Sam, but it seemed the guitarist didn’t even mind. Instead, he straddled him and gripped him by the collar of his shirt, staring right into his eyes.

“Never. And I mean fucking never touch her again. I will find you. I will break your hands and shove them so far down your throat they will come out of your ass again.”

“Sam!” You cried, which finally got his attention. He let go of the shirt, dropping him in his own spit, giving the pathetic figure a snarl. Without another word, Sam gently took your wrist, leading you toward the backstage area where he had gotten ready. Once he finally turned around to settle you on one of the chairs, knelt down in front of you to make sure you were okay, you could see what the impact had done to him. His carefully styled hair was a mess; there were scratches on his cheek, and his pretty pink lips were busted open. You found it pretty unfair that he had just gotten into a fight and still looked hot. Maybe even hotter.

“Are you okay? What a disgusting-“

You couldn’t help but stare at his lips. They were so pretty. And he had gone all out just to protect you. You just had to kiss him, didn’t you?

You couldn’t resist anymore, your hands grabbed at the back of his neck and pulled him in. The blond winced at the sting when your lips collided, but by Yoba, did your hands feel good against the heated-up skin of his neck. He would have been stupid if he hadn’t kissed back; and who was he to deny your tongue entrance to his mouth, anyway?

It would have been a shame if he didn’t suck on your tongue like a desperate man, and fuck did your lips taste good.

Blood and saliva mixed together, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you let your hands trace through his hair, giving a few blond strands a soft tug. Sam grunted, getting on his long legs without breaking the kiss, allowing himself to drop down on the sofa while pulling you towards him. You took the chance and straddled him, only pulling away to kiss down his jawline.

“You know how long I have wanted to kiss you?” The guitarist murmured, allowing his head to dip to the side to give you more access. “Ever since you first played that stupid song to annoy Sebastian and Abigail,” you answered bluntly, kissing down his neck. You knew Sam’s face would bruise up tomorrow, so what were a few more? You wanted this fucking man.

Fangs sinking in the flesh of his neck, you sucked on the newfound redness, shiver running down your spine when you heard the deep groan rumble through his chest. Feeling you react to the sound he made gave him a sudden boost of confidence, large hands trailing down your back just to grip the flesh of your ass with both of his hands. He gave it a good squeeze, not being able to help himself but moan. You felt so good already, and you weren’t even undressed.Yet.

“Sam…I…Fuck, I want you.”

That certainly was an understatement by now. You needed Sam. Given the pulsing you felt beneath you, you were pretty sure you would get what you needed, though.

His fingers were now clawing at your butt as he pulled you in closer, his busted lips smashing into yours again. This time he didn’t even flinch at the feeling; this time he was nothing short of greedy. Shoving his tongue past your pearly whites, he explored your mouth, trying to get to taste more of you. You moaned for him when he sucked on your tongue again, his piercing rubbing against the muscle. The heat that had begun pooling between your legs made you shift around his lap, only to be rewarded by the blond bucking up his hips in an attempt to chase the feeling. Both of you moaned into one another’s mouths, and you were sure you had never craved something this much in life. Sam’s hands had left your butt now, fingers working on unbuttoning your pants. His fingers were skilled, so the small button keeping the shorts together definitely wasn’t much of an obstacle. In fact, you could feel his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties faster than you could blink. Not that you minded. Quite the opposite; while still enjoying Sam’s tongue dominating yours, you lifted your hips so he could pull down the fabric that separated his slender fingers from your heat.

“That’s a good girl,” Sam cooed in your mouth, making you moan quietly. How could a man have you so wrapped around his finger without even touching your pussy yet?

That quickly changed when the calloused pad of his index finger found your clit, gently nudging the hardening bundle of nerves. “So wet for me already, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your brain not able to produce words that would even come close to explaining that he would be able to make you just as wet by only getting naked.

Your hips rutted against his finger, and in turn, his hardening cock. The blond sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, the need to get you naked and feel you against, scratch that, around his drooling dick growing in the pit of his stomach. But Sam, ever the gentleman, instead allowed his finger to slip through your folds, circling your needy little entrance with ease before dipping in just the tip.

Your reaction was immediate. You arched in your back and tried to press down your hips to coax him in a little more, but Sam, staring at you in absolute awe, removed his finger whenever you attempted. How could one person be so hot? How the hell could he have gone so long without touching you?

“Sam, please. Give me something,” you begged, licking your lips as you looked down at him. Sam, giving you a toothy grin, finally gave in and pushed a single finger inside of you, enjoying your lip being dragged in between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning his name out loud. His finger thrusted up inside of you, and just to give you a better idea of what was awaiting you he bucked up his hips.

The blond took his time, only adding a second finger after you begged him to, scissoring them within you to coax out more of the moans that sounded like music to his ear. He himself had to dig the nails of his other hand inside of the couch to ground himself enough as to not whimper and moan just from touching you. However, when your hands set into motion to remove your shirt and bra, allowing those fucking pretty tits to bounce free, it was game over. A low moan left his swollen lips as he stared at your chest, shamelessly ogling them. You could have sworn you saw his tongue loll out of his mouth, some drool dripping from the muscle, but a third finger stretching your drooling cunt distracted you.

“Sam, please. Can I ride you? Pretty please.”

He was dreaming, probably. Or he had smoked too much weed and was imagining this; how else could this be happening? But your hips rutting against his fingers that were coated in your slick were telling a different story. And even if all of this wasn’t real, he would enjoy it while it lasted.

“Sam? Please, baby. Please let me ride this cock…Fuck, you are so hard already. I can feel it through your pants…”

The whine that left you when he removed his fingers from you absolutely tore his heart into shreds, but he needed to free his dick. Otherwise, it would have ripped his pants apart, given that pretty begs that left your sweet mouth oh so easily.

He shifted you around in his lap, pulling down his pants and boxers just enough for his erection to spring free. The skin was hot, and you just had to gawk at him. Sam was big and girthy. And at that-

“You got your dick pierced?” You whispered, but it pretty much sounded like a whimpered moan. The blond grinned a little, tongue trailing over his teeth.

“Mhhhm…You like it?”

Fuck. You could have had an orgasm on the spot, by doing nothing else but imagining the pierced tip to bully into you.

Sam opened his mouth to tease you just a little more when he suddenly felt your fingers wrap around his shaft, guiding his drooling tip to your entrance. He was absolutely hypnotized, watching his tip kiss your sloppy hole and the way your thighs twitched. “Fuuuuck…” he breathed as you allowed the tip to enter you. You were insanely wet, and your cunt greeted him with another gush of juices.

The blond decided he could have died right then and there and his life would have been complete; that was at least what he thought until you pushed and pushed and pushed. He just couldn’t take his eyes away from his dick vanishing in your desperate pussy, centimetre by centimetre. His mouth was hanging open, and now you definitely could see his tongue hanging out, his chest heaving and falling quickly as the man who had fearlessly thrown punches before was now whimpering for you.

You yourself weren’t in much better shape.

The metal pushing against your wall the more you sat down on him; his sheer length splitting you open, it all had you a babbling mess. Telling him how good he felt, how big he was, how much you had wanted this. Sam’s hands were pawing at your hips, visibly straining himself from not just fucking into you, fucking everything he couldn’t say right up your cunt. But you needed a moment, he knew by the way your walls clung to him, the way you shifted around. You were so fucking precious, and he wanted you to know. His lips trailed along your neck, sucking onto your skin once he found your collarbones. His finger had taken its place on your clit again, flicking the bud gently as his blue eyes peered at you again. His eyes had the same look in them as they had before, just this time they were also filled with silent worship. This look alone gave you to strength to lift your hips, just to drop them down, allowing him to bottom out inside of you again. The two of you moaned in unison, and for some reason, you couldn’t imagine a life without this dick anymore.

Your hips rutted back and forth as your lips found Sam’s again, the kiss you shared desperate and wet. But neither of you cared as moans spilled from your connected lips. His pre-cum was mixing with your wetness, causing sloppy sounds whenever your walls completely wrapped around him. “You are so fucking pretty on my cock like this, baby. Does it feel good, huh? Like me filling you up? Like bein’ my good girl?”

You wanted to answer, you really did. But your open mouth only let moans of his name pass, so you resorted to a quick nod. You placed your hands on his arms, nails digging into the flesh as waves of pleasure hit you with every single movement of your hips.

“S…Sam,” you rambled, head thrown back. You started to full on bounce on his lap again, your tilted back position allowing him a full view of those jumping tits of yours. They were simply too hard to resist; his head dipped down and placed kisses all over the heated-up skin until his lips finally caught on of your nipples. He eagerly sucked on it, his hand carefully squeezing the other. Couldn’t let one of these pretty tits go without attention now, could he?

The breathless moan that entered his ears stimulated his brain in a way he couldn’t describe. Something feral was awoken within him; the events of the night flashing in front of his inner eye. You were his now, right? His pretty girl, and he needed to show you just that. His hips snapped up quite automatically, while his mouth switched to the other nipple. His finger was still massaging circles into your clit, making your vision go blurry.

Sam and you hadn’t ever done as much as hug, and still, he knew exactly how to touch you. Your nails this time found his chest through his shirt as you tried to keep up with the fast pace he had immediately picked up, your whole body bouncing with his tip bullying up into you whenever you sat down on him. His piercing was rubbing against your walls, massaging them just like they were sucking off his dick. You were pretty sure you had never been this wet before, and you were even more sure that Sam’s crotch was drenched by now.

Sam apparently tried to break you apart as his hips kept snapping up at a rough pace, neither caring about the droplets of wetness falling from your cunt, nor about the way he was whimpering and begging for you with his voice.

The sounds that his vocal chords produced became more high-pitched as his dick twitched and pulsed inside of you. His cock abused your cunt, and you were all for it. Honestly, you would have cried if he wasn’t fucking you like his name was written all over you.

Your orgasm was nearing, you could feel it tickling every nerve of your body, giving you the feeling you had to pull away. But he just felt so perfect. So right.

Trying to voice your nearing orgasm was definitely harder than you had expected. All that you could come up with was his name again. Your tongue felt heavy, like you were drunk. And in some way, you were. Drunk on his dick, his smell, the feeling of his tongue and mouth messing with your tits, him.

Sam didn’t feel much different. He could have sworn that he was about to burst at the seams. You felt heavenly, delicate, and yet like you needed to be pounded into oblivion. He just couldn’t get enough of your tits in his face, of the way you sounded. You were his favourite song now.

“Gonna cum, princess,” he breathed in the valley of your breasts, holding onto your waist to help you pick up your pace. You were sobbing his name as you felt your orgasm tearing at your insides. You wanted to warn him, you really did, but the cry that left you reached your tongue faster than any words – it was unholy. Lewd, and desperate, full of arousal as your orgasm made your body quake.

Your body was shaking on him, the release you felt paralyzing you, and yet it only turned Sam on more. His hips fucked into you ruthlessly, metal of his cock piercing bumping along you as his tip kissed your cervix.

“FUCK!” He snapped, teeth sinking into your tit as a violent orgasm made his cock twitch, spurts of cum painting your walls white.

But that wasn’t enough for Sam. He needed it deeper. He needed you to feel it on your way home. In bed. With heavy breathing, he put his feet on the couch and while holding you down, fucked up into you.

Strained sobs left your lips as your sensitive cunt was abused so mercilessly, but those whimpers that filled the room and came from those beautiful lips; they almost made you beg for more.

The blond only stopped when his hands on your waist began to shake, just like his legs. His thrusts became sloppy and less precise, hips stuttering and losing force until they completely halted. The two of you sat in silence, your head on his shoulder while his arms held you close and secure.

It took you several moments before you shared a silent gaze, your lips meeting in another kiss. This one was much slower, sweeter, even. You still could taste the blood on his tongue, and you still didn’t mind.

When you pulled away, you could see that Sam looked even more beaten now. The scratches had swollen just like his lips, and a bruise was starting to form on his jaw. His neck just looked as bad; love bites scattered all around the pale skin.

The blond’s hand reached out to gently tuck a strand of your hair back, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

You gave a shy smile back, sighing slowly.

“You shouldn’t have fought with someone because of me.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head.

“For you? I’d happily get beat to smithereens.”

#sdv #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley #stardew valley farmer #stardew valley smut #sdv fanfic #sdv sam #fanfic #smut #sdv sam x reader #SDV #SDV farmer #SDV Sam #SDV bachelors #sdv bachelors #Stardew Valley Sam x reader

953 notes · View notes

lovifie · 8 months ago

Text

Back to Masterlist

Hi, this a post about callsigns characters could have because I love "cool" sounding nicknames with the most stupid backstory:

Rat: Because when you first entered the team you were so shy that when you weren't on a mission they could only see you scurrying out of a room whenever they entered like a little mouse. Plus, Gaz keeps saying you look like the rat from the Wallace and Gromit movie when eating breakfast.

Knockout/Knock: Because Soap and you were playing around, he was following you and you were running so fast you didn't notice the door was locked and you ran into it so hard you knocked yourself out.

Icarus: You made fun of Ghost for being British and about how they always burn when they tan only for you to go and get such an aggressive sunburn you were required to take medical leave for two weeks.

Pudding: After a mission you were craving it so bad that you didn't care that the only one left was way past its recommended date for eating. And after reassuring them that you would be fine you ended up throwing up so hard late at night that you woke up everybody.

Mole: Because when you are not wearing your glasses you are so blind they wonder how did you even made it into the military. Many people think you are just a spy that the task force kept as a pet.

Pierrot: Which is a sad clown, often pining for the love of Columbine, who usually breaks his heart and leaves him for Harlequin. And since that's basically a compilation of your love life that became your name, a sad clown but in Italian.

Anakin: You tried to download one of the Star Wars movies from a not-so-trustworthy website, you ended up downloading such a massive amount of viruses that you were almost the reason for the downfall of the whole military because of how aggressive the hack attack was. You now have parental control on everything that has internet access.

Navi: As in the fairy that travels with Link on the Legend of Zelda. Because every time that you would try to de-escalate an argument you would start like: "Hey, listen, we are all tired." "Hey, listen, let's all take a breath." "Hey, listen, we are all adults."

Gecko: Because while sleeping on deployment a gecko fell on your face from the ceiling, and you became so terrified of them that you barely slept for months after that.

Baby: Do you know when you accidentally call your teacher "mom"? Well, it happened to you, but you called Price "dad" and he didn't skip a beat before answering "Yes, babygirl?"

I could go on and on with these, I hope you find it at least half as funny as I do. Feel free to use them however you want and to add to the list as well, please I'll love to read them. 🩷🩷

Also, I would definitely be Mole, my blind ass would shoot and wish for the best. Which one would you guys be?? Also, Knockout and Icarus are my favourite ones and the reason I made the post hehe

Also, the rat I mentioned:

Back to Masterlist

Fill the form if you would like me to add you to the taglist 🩷

TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @salsamander @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @lolly145 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @justyourfriendlyneighbourhood1 @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadow24 @crinoid90 @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @emat-05 @dprmoon

Also, if your username is underlined/looks different from the rest or you won't get the notif, please check your tagging settings as it doesn't allow me to do it any differently

755 notes · View notes

wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 months ago

Note

I found I enjoy the Stiles is best friends with Laura Hale dynamic. Do you have any recommendations?

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

Burn with hellfire in the blue light of midnight by babisays (20/20 | 203,189 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles met the Hale siblings when he was eleven years old. Now it has been six years since he lost his best friend Cora in the fire, and Derek and Laura left Beacon Hills.

Six years was a long time, so he didn't think he would ever see them again, but now he was wondering what the hell was Derek Hale doing back in Beacon Hills.

How We Serve by GrimReaperlover11 (16/16 | 53,280 | Not Rated | Sterek) Stiles is selected to become the servant to Prince Derek Hale.. however his new master gives off total 'Ima rip your throat out, with my teeth' vibes...maybe its a werewolf thing. Nonetheless Stiles hopes he can survive his new life

Sacrifice (Whatever It Takes) by adara, Swlffangirl (7/7 | 38,519 | Teen | Sterek) In which Laura lives, the Hale Pack grows, and Derek finds a peace that he'd never thought could be his. It doesn't come easy, because when does anything ever, but they've got a real shot at it for the first time since before the fire that stole their family and sent their whole lives up in smoke.

My Sister’s Boyfriend by Niecy8 (14/14 | 36,297 | Mature | Sterek) Derek loves his sister very much and is looking forward to seeing her since they haven't seen each other in a while. However, he's not thrilled that she is bringing home her new boyfriend - someone they know zero about. He will be nice but what he didn't expect was how attractive he would be.

Stiles will do anything for Laura. She's his best friend and like an older sister to him. However, this has to be the worst idea she has ever had - pretending to date one another? No one will believe it and it becomes increasingly harder to play the part when he meets her gorgeous brother.

Or two idiots slowly falling in love with each other with Laura playing a hand in it.

The Ghost of You (It Keeps Me Awake) by StaceyMarie123 (1/1 | 21,477 | Teen | Sterek) She took each step slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal that might spook any second.

“You can see me?” she asked, and her voice was higher pitched that he’d expected. It was a complete and utter marvel that Stiles hadn’t keeled over from shock yet.

He nodded and her face broke into a huge grin.

She had bunny teeth, just like her brother.

…

Or: the one where Stiles accidentally develops the power to see and communicate with ghosts, and there seems to be someone haunting their favourite grumpy alpha.

Samhain by nightlight9 (1/1 | 20,135 | Teen | Sterek) The ghost of Talia Hale has been showing up in Stiles’ bedroom on the night of Halloween for years. Normally their conversations are pretty normal. But when she shows up screaming about how her daughter is going to be killed, Stiles knows that he’ll do anything to prevent that from happening.

Platonic Absolutes by sparkandwolf (1/1 | 7,362 | Gen | Sterek) When Stiles first met Laura, there was no doubt in his mind that their soul bond wasn’t meant to be anything but platonic. He had heard of that happening, that the marks on a person’s body could mean they had a soulmate by any meaning of the word, and was momentarily disappointed that his meant a lifetime best friend.

Then he realized that Laura was the most incredible woman he had ever met. If it wasn’t for the fact she was very, very, gay, he would’ve fallen in love with her the moment she barged into his life.

A Death Omen Too Strong to Stomp Out by one-fandom-became-all-fandoms (1/1 | 6,668 | Mature | Sterek) The dream had haunted him for nearly a year since moving to New York. With no friends but his therapist to confide in, Stiles raced to figure out what the wintry orchard had to do with saving a life. Accompanied by a mysterious stranger, Derek, Stiles may unravel his psyche before it's too late.

love and soulmates by EvanesDust (1/1 | 1,747 | Teen | Sterek) Derek watched as Stiles looped an arm around Laura’s waist and laid his head on her shoulder.

“Aw, Laur, don’t be like that. You know we’re soulmates…”

Soulmates? And just like that, Derek’s heart broke. Laura brought home Stiles--perfect and delectable and entirely Derek’s type. Fuck his life because, of course, Stiles would be in love with Laura.

AND

@littlekittio reminded me of this fantastic fic.

Fireman Derek's Crazy Pie [Cheeseburger Baby] by owlpostagain

(1/1 I 17,698 I Teen)

“He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible."

Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant.

"Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

"Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

AND AND

@idoobeg suggested these!

The Cool Kids by thankyouforexisting

(1/1 I 14,375 I Teen I Sterek)

Laura was four when her parents brought home a baby. [...] The next day, she grabbed a basket and put her brother in it. The four month old baby blinked sleepily at her, and she grinned, “Hey, brother. This is for my own good,” she’d heard something like that yesterday at the movies, and it sounded cool. She carried the basket into the Preserve, taking care not to wake her sleeping parents, and walked for a while before setting it gently on the ground. “Animals of the forests!” she cried, “This is my offering to you! Take this baby in exchange for my family’s safety!” // Laura has tried to abandon her siblings 13 times (each), has convinced Scott that life isn't real in 8 occasions, and she's made her parents wish they'd stayed childless about 1000 times, but not really. A story in which little Laura grows up, and learns.

I Hate You a Little, a Lot, Passionately, Not at All by YouRunWithTheWolves

(6/6 I 26,083 I Explicit I Sterek)

Laura has a brother. He's a dick. So Laura gets herself a best friend.

He's also a dick.

or, Laura finds a new roommate to replace Isaac and Derek is ecstatic.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #laura hale #matchmaking #anon #submission

397 notes · View notes

karlachismylife · 2 months ago

Text

Tough Spot || The Queen of the Clan pt.2

CW: fem!chubby!reader, mentions of animal marking/spraying/urinating

When you took a break in trying to get your behaviorist degree and took off to partake in this documentary on a whim, you certainly were prepared that it won't meet the highest expectations - life isn't a movie, after all, so perhaps you weren't hoping to find the purpose of life magically after you somewhat lost the direction, or to make an earth-shattering discovery that would turn behaviorist world upside down and earn you a place among scientific hall of fame. A distraction from an all-consuming apathy that creeped up in your life, perhaps, some useful experience close to your field of interest. Some connections and friendships, if nothing else - these were your (pretty reasonable) expectations.

Definitely not having to share a tent with a man you barely knew, because a huge hyena sprayed its stink all over your things, making it impossible to stay near your posessions for a long period of time.

Sure, lucky you - most of your stuff inside the backpack was very salvageable, your clothes and food intact. But everything that got under a direct attack - your little tent, sleeping bag, your favourite thermos and a little sitting mat, all that was most definitely due for a deep clean with some heavy scent remover, and your crew was in for a filming trip for the next several days without returning to your main dislocation at a sanctuary just next to the nature reserve you were filming in. So no cleaning and washing for you in aproximately a week. In short - you would've been fucked, sleeping in a smelly tent and sleeping bag or completely unprotected in a roofless vehicle, if not for Kir.

As you stand there with an apologetic expression on your face, hands clenched guiltily, he just laughs all your muttered thanks and apologies off, flashing you the friendliest of smiles as he sets up his own tent. A true knight in shining armor (some cargo pants and a blank, tight-fitting T-shirt in his case), Kir doesn't even let you help, telling you that your chatting is more than help enough as he prepares your new sleeping arrangements. Out of everyone on the crew he was the first to offer you to share his tent, and the fact that he had a backup sleeping bag only nailed the decision in.

"Don't worry, it's not a bother at all. If I was a newbie and something like this happened to me, you'd help me out too, I'm sure," he makes it hard to argue and feel like you're being a burden. Already a veteran of these filmings, Kir disctracts you from your upset mood with similar stories - about some scientist guy walking straight into a buffalo shitpile, a bunch of monkeys ravaging crew's backpacks and pulling out some poor girl's vibrator to play hot potato with it, a jackal finding one of the timelapse night cameras and flooding it generously... "They're animals, they just have a sense of humor like that. No one blames you for that guy taking a liking to you."

Kir's bright smile and cheerful words reassure you. He's being a gentleman about everything else too - allows you to take the higher ground to sleep there since the spot where his - and your now too - tent stands has a bit of an angle to it, lets you choose which sleeping bag you want, stays outside as you change for sleep even though you were perfectly fine doing it in the sleeping bag itself. The only un-gentlemanly thing Kir does is stay up with you until deep into the loud wild night, telling you more stories, already from his job at the sanctuary. As you whisper to each other and try to muffle your giggles, you hear rustling outside, someone walking around on soft paws, stopping several times at your tent and even sniffing loudly - you left your backpack nearby, unwilling to put the stinky thing into the tent. But the smell seems to work for you this time, since whatever it was, it leaves soon after.

In the morning you barely get out, a bit tired after your late night talkshow with Kir, only to learn that there were two hyenas in the camp - a bunch of the crew are crowded around a patch where the parprints are especially visible, getting the footage just in case it'll make into the final cut. One of the scientists measures the prints and estimates the sizes of both hyenas: both could be up to 1,8 meters in length judging from how wide apart their footprints lay. In other words - fucking huge, even for spotted hyenas.

"You think your friend from yesterday came with a buddy to spread some more perfume?" You scrunch your nose at Kir's joke and rush to check on your backpack, but it doesn't seem to be chewed on or reek worse than yesterday. Great news, honestly, since you'll be driving with that thing tucked into the back of a Land Rover while you follow the path of the lion pride you should be filming.

The sun is alredy high up and pretty ruthless by the time you come across any significant wildlife - and it's not lions, but something equally good for the documentary: a big herd of zebras. Once again, you are mesmerized, majestic striped horses so close to you that it doesn't seem real. They are aware of your crew's presence, but stay chill, perhaps seeing people and their weird appliances not for the first time.

Following your instructions, you carefully tread the tall grass to move a bit further from the parked vehicles and take some shots of the herd; you choose your favourite zebra - a mother with a little baby waving it's puny tail and constantly shoving its adorable snout under mother's belly for milk - and zoom in on her, setting quite a neat shot. After you settle the videocamera, you take out your personal one to take some photos, but suddenly the zebras perk up, ears twitching and chewing coming to an end. You lower your camera at first, confused by their reactions - you didn't hear anything? - but then lift it up againt to search for the source of zebras' worries through zoom.

And source of worries you find.

Two hunched silouettes, out in the open, dark manes fluffed up and tails in a clearly aggresive stance - a couple of enormous, compared to the zebras, hyenas are creeping up to them, hind legs tucked up under their bulky bodies, ready to pounce... and then one of them, a smaller one with darker fur, darts forward.

A hunting hyena is an impressive view, their speed exceeding what one might expect just looking at their burly, asymmetrical builds - but exactly that legs length difference allows them to speed so fast that your camera struggles to capture them. But what's impressive onscreen, is fucking terrifying in real life.

Because a herd of zebras is panicking at the sight of a predator closing in on one of them, and in panic they start to run.

You're in their way.

The sound of dozens of hooves hitting dry, solid ground mixes with your own blood pumping in your ears. In an act of brain malfunction, you somehow find yourself more worried about the expensive camera (it's not even yours) being trampled than yourself, and try to pick it up with the tripod - seconds dragging on like molten resin boiling under the cruel noon sun. The ground is trembling under the scared animals, dust and dry grass up in the air.

A high-pitched sound breaks you out of stupor. Loud cackling with an undertone of alarm gets closer too, and as you stumble backwards, a big dark form zooms past you, rushing fearlessly towards the fear-crazed zebras. It's reckless even for a carnivoure they're afraid of: nothing can guarantee that the herd will stop or turn away as the hyena approaches them head-on, and you prepare yourself to witness a gruesome scene of a hunter falling by the hooves of hunted.

But it somehow works. Last moment, the zebras notice the hyena flying at them with a scary laugh and change the direction of their fleeing route, less lucky among them falling and getting pushed over, but hyenas - more of them now, four, it seems? - don't bother pouncing the fallen ones, putting all their efforts into... simply chasing their prey away?

Confused and still stunned into a frozen mode, you watch the little baby zebra buck its tiny legs at a hyena barking at it lazily and clamping its huge maw, capable of crushing huge bones, on thin air. Trotting for a few more meters, the predator stalls and then simply turns away, casting you a glance before slowly treading back to its buddy. The one whose disheveled mane and wide stance you recognize immediately.

Blinking, you finally find yourself able to collect your equipment, although with trembling hands - your shoulders are still tense in a protective manner, and you flinch, when Kir rushes to you to help with the heavy camera.

"Oh my god, are you okay? I thought I'd shit myself when I saw them running at us," he looks sickly, you're probably no better. You dump the tripod and the camera into his arms happily, clutching your own, and walk on stumbling legs back to the rover.

You're met with a pair of bit wet eyes when you finally get to the car.

Somehow a single hyena - where did its buddies go? - doesn't seem all that scary after you nearly avoided being stomped by a hundred zebras, so you take a few more steps before finally remembering to be cautious. Kir is just a few meters away, loading the camera into the car, so it means he walked past the hyena unharmed, right?

You don't get to ask that question or shoo the animal away: just like yesterday, it appears up next to you in a gracious pounce, nuzzling your hip again. The noise that leaves its throat is absolutely horrid, an annoying screeching, sightly hoarse and just as high-pitched as its laugh. Wagging its tail, the hyena circles you several time, bumping into your legs - each time you don't respond or move, the screech gets only louder, until you give up.

"Stop it! Hush! S-stop yelling, shut up!" Bold of you to try and order a wild animal around. Maybe that's exactly why it works - the noise cuts off abruptly, the hyena taking a step back to plop its chonky ass on the ground. It looks at you just like a tamed dog would - mouth slightly agape in a toothy smile, head tilted and ears fluttering, as if it's eager to hear what else you have to say.

You're not made of steel to stay indifferent an wary at this sight.

"Huh. So you do listen sometimes. I guess you just hated my backpack that much," you still grumble at the hyena, and it flattens its round ears with guilt, slowly dipping down to the ground. Aren't they supposed to be like cats? But this one looks at you with the definition of puppy eyes. "You could've done worse... and I guess you saved me today. Thank you, Stinky."

The hyena lights up and sits back up with its chest puffed out as it hears you acknowledge the way it steered the scared herd away from you and your crew, but all its pride fizzles out as soon as you give it a name. You get a disapproving look and a loud giggle, clearly mocking your sense of humor in naming the hyena.

"Don't look at me like that, I can't sleep in my own sleeping bag now because of you. Have to share a tent with Kir," you nod at the young man sitting in the driver's sit with an amused expression, and the hyena turns to look at him too. Judging by the way Kir's smile fades, the look he recieved from the animal wasn't a kind one.

"Come on, we have to get a move on, still about fifty kilometers to cover today," he mutters, and you try to move past Stinky (oh yes, you're keeping the name) to the car, but it suddenly jumps to its feet and barrels at you again, rubbing at your legs and nuzzling your thighs. It even shoves its snout into your crotch, tail flailng up high, but the loud sound of an engine starting right behind it finally scares the weird animal away. It trots to the side, stops to look at you again, as if checking if you're still stumbling after being scared half to death by the herd, then resumes its leisurely pace, waving its tail.

You huff, getting into your seat, and dust your pants of some coarse fur the rascal left.

"Weird fucking guy," you mutter about the hyena more to yourself than yo Kir, who already jokes about you being a hyena whisperer. "And stinky, too."

You'll just have to hope his buddies won't try to follow into his pawsteps.

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 3

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog

288 notes · View notes

evermoresqueiswriting · 7 months ago

Text

the one where clarisse learns about her love language

"Late in the night, the city's asleep Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" - King Of My Heart, Taylor Swift

summary: after getting hurt during one game of capture de flag, clarisse gets taken care of by you and after this, clarisse went from never being at the infirmary to being there almost every day with a new injury. weird for an ares kid to get this easily injured, but you didn't mind

pairing: clarisse la rue x apollo!reader

word count: 6.2k i suddenly lost the ability to write shorter fics bruh

tags: fluff, clarisse fell first and harder

masterlist // ask box

No one at camp had a job at camp per say. Hephaestus kids were the ones forging the weapons campers used, and Demeter kids sometimes cooked dinner. And some Apollo kids – including yourself – were the designated healers at camp. So, it wasn’t your job, per say, to stay at the infirmary all day long, but you were.

You enjoyed the calm and serenity of that place. The sun always shined through the windows, and you could sunbathe all day long, while listening to your favourite songs or painting. Most of the time it was quiet, except when Will followed you there. He was a rather loud kid, he loved to ask questions and learn about everything you did.

“Shouldn’t you be playing with other kids your age instead of trying to work here?”

“Shouldn’t you be socialising with kids your age instead of working for free?” Will replied in the same tone.

“Rude!”

“I learned from the best,” he gave you a pat on the shoulder.

“I regret it. All the time,” you turned away. “If you’re gonna stay here, at least help me clean this place.”

The first time Will tried to help you clean this place, it was a disaster. Before you ran the infirmary, it wasn’t organised, everything was just laying around. Then you came in, and cleaned up the place, and organised it how you liked it. Will didn’t know that, so he just cleaned up like he thought was fine. It wasn’t. And you had lectured him about never – ever – touching anything again without you being there.

“Tomorrow’s Capture the Flag,” Will started. “They put really far from the flag and the fight, again,” he frowned.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It always happens when the Ares cabin is teaming up with us. They’re always leading the fight.”

“Well they are good,” you shrugged. “But you know you can talk to Lee about this, he’s our head counsellor and he could talk to Clarisse.”

He shook his head.

“Clarisse is kinda scary,” Will admitted.

“Did I never tell you to never judge a book by its cover,” you put your hands on your hips, “but in that case you’re right. Clarisse does scare me a little bit too. And I’m kinda glad she decided to put me far away from her this time.”

Will rolled his eyes, clearly still upset.

“Okay, I can see how this isn’t great,” you sighed. “If for the next one, we’re still teaming up with the Ares cabin, I’ll talk to Lee and Clarisse alright?”

He nodded. Hopefully, you weren’t going to team up with the Ares cabin anytime soon. You never talked to Clarisse, but you knew who she was. Everyone knew her. Ares daughter, head counsellor and incredibly scary. She was an amazing fighter, and no one wanted to be at the other end of her spear.

“I’m just saying,” you ranted to Lee at dinner, “Will is a kid and it sucks that you decided to exclude him.”

“Who’s ‘you’,” he inquired. “Clarisse was the brain behind everything. She’s the strategist.”

“And what are you? A plant? You were there when the strategy was being made,” you argued.

“But Will never said anything to me. It’s always been this way.”

“Well he told me, and I’m telling you. Please pass along this information if we ever get teamed up with the Ares cabin again,” you smiled.

“Sure,” Lee nodded. “You’re the boss.”

“‘m not,” you mumbled and kept on eating.

Lee was the Apollo cabin’s head counsellor. But really, you were his co-head counsellor. You have been at camp for a long time now, since the age of ten and you have always been a year-rounder at camp. But when the head counsellor spot freed up, you vouched for Lee. He wanted that position, he deserved it, and you agreed. But he always came for advice and your opinion.

Capture the Flag day finally arrived, and you were getting ready, putting your armour on. You picked your bow and slid it on your shoulder, before leaving your cabin. You joined your team – the red one – and everyone was there already. Clarisse stood tall and proud at the front, planting her spear next to her.

“Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged,” Chiron announced – like every single time. “Killing or maiming is not allowed.”

“Much to my regret,” Dionysus mumbled. “So yeah, let the game begin or whatever.”

Clarisse turned around, waved her hand around and people were running to their assigned position. You were on flag duty. On top of the hill that had a perfect view of your flag. If you saw anyone from the opposite side you'd shoot explosive arrows to blind and confuse them for a second, so your team had time to disarm them before they could reach your flag.

You looked around, and spotted Michael and Lee. Chatting, and looking around. Moving on. Ares' kids were fighting some kids from the Hephaestus cabin. Logic. And then you spotted Clarisse. Walking alone through the forest. Probably to the other side where the blue flag was.

But then you also spotted a group of three Athena kids – blue team – following her closely. Clarisse wasn’t stupid, she probably knew about them following her.

“What are you watching?” someone asked, startling you.

“Will! What are you doing here?”

“There wasn’t anyone around the borders, so I came to help you. So what are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, going back to monitor your flag.

Will stared at you, huffed and went to look at what you were looking at.

“y/n?,” Will called for you.

“What?” you didn’t look at him.

“y/n!”

“What?” you gave him a quick glance.

“Something’s wrong.”

That caught your attention. You looked back at where Clarisse was. She seemed fine. The three Athena kids were no longer there though.

“What?”

“Don’t you see the trap?”

“What trap?” you frowned, looking more closely at where she stood.

It was a particularly sunny day. If your dad wasn’t Apollo, you’d be blinded by the sun rays. But your dad was Apollo, so you were doing great. And there it was. The trap. It was so bright, it was hard to spot it. And the Athena kids knew that. So when Clarisse walked over it, it was too late and something came flying toward her.

“What the hell?” you cursed before running down the hill. “Stay here,” you warned Will.

Before you left, you gave a quick glance back, and Clarisse was down, surely unconscious.

“Fuck.”

You sprinted towards where she was when you heard the emergency horn. The emergency horn that Chiron played at the start of every summer so campers would know what that sound meant. A warning for campers that the game stopped. When you reached Clarisse, Chiron and Mr D were already there. As well as most campers.

“What happened?” campers talked among themselves.

“Move!” you pushed the kids blocking you from reaching Clarisse.

Clarisse was bleeding from her forehead, and a metal stick was stuck in her left shoulder. It was overwhelming, people squeezing in to see what was going on, talking to each other. Even Chiron and Mr D couldn’t keep them in place. You kneeled beside Clarisse, trying to shield her from the campers, when you spotted one of the Athena kids that was following her earlier.

You stood swiftly, without leaving Clarisse unattended and grabbed his armour with both hands to bring him closer.

“You take another step toward Clarisse again and I’ll make sure you won’t ever, ever, see another healthy day again. I’ll make sure you and your brothers will wake everyday in pain wishing you were dead instead,” you cursed him.

You spoke in a low voice, but everyone heard. Just like that, everyone took a step back.

“y/n,” Chiron put his hand on your shoulder. “You’re needed in the infirmary, I’ll bring Clarisse there.”

You let him go, took your armour off and threw it on the ground before walking to the infirmary with your brothers close behind you. Michael had great healing skills too, so you’d need him. Will was learning so he stayed with you. Lee, as your head counsellor, also had to be here somehow.

“Can you really do that?” Will asked timidly. “Make them sick forever.”

“Apollo kids can inherit dad’s plague powers,” Lee stated. “But it’s rare, and never that powerful.”

Will stared at you, but you only stared at the door. Waiting for Chiron to arrive.

“Why are you so worried about Clarisse of all people,” Michael huffed.

Lee slapped his arm.

“What!” Michael rubbed his arm.

“Great to know that’s what you’d think if we were ever on the battlefield,” you noted, “choosing who to help and who can die.”

“That’s not what I said!” he shouted.

“Then why shouldn’t I be worried about an injured camper, who just happened to be Clarisse?” you shouted back.

Someone cleared their throat. You both stopped bickering. Chiron. He put Clarisse on the bed next to the window and stepped back so you and Michael could start working. You didn’t need to talk to know what to do. You trained together, as a team, for years, so everything was done flawlessly and quickly.

“She should be fine,” you announced, “I’ll stay and feed her ambrosia for the next few days and she should wake.”

“Great,” Chiron nodded, relieved. “Great work you two, as usual.”

They all left, except for Will and you both sat on the couch. You stared at Clarisse, with her head wrapped in a bandage, her shoulder too.

“She doesn’t look so scary now huh,” you said.

“No,” Will agreed. “So it really was the Athena cabin?”

“I don’t know, I mean I saw them. I don’t think Annabeth would’ve agreed to such a plan. As in a plan that’d almost kill their opponent in Capture the Flag. For a real quest, why not. But Capture the Flag?”

“What’s going to happen to those who pulled this stunt?”

“Well,” you sighed, “knowing Chiron, he’d probably just revoke their dessert privileges for two weeks instead of one. But I’m sure once she wakes up, she’ll know what to do.”

“Kill them?” Will ask, with a horrified expression.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Will left first, leaving you alone with Clarisse. You told him you’d join him later when dinner would come. You went to see Clarisse. The bandages were already soaked, so you carefully removed them. You carefully cleaned her wounds again before bandaging them again. You fed her a tiny amount of ambrosia before joining the rest of your siblings for dinner.

Before the feast could begin, Chiron gave a speech about how Capture the Flag wasn’t the place to settle personal accounts and that maiming and killing was forbidden. And how this time it went too far.

“I’ve talked to the head counsellor in question, and it will be taken seriously. There will be consequences, and I don’t ever want to see this happening ever again.”

Campers nodded along, and went back to their table. You devoured your food in no time, not forgetting to leave some for the offering. Then you rushed to shower and clean your face before running to the infirmary where you’d spend the next few nights.

“I really hope you’ll wake soon,” you told unconscious Clarisse. “I’m not used to having someone else in here.”

You walked around, putting things back where they’re supposed to, and walked back to where Clarisse was. Then you stood again, and sat.

“I’m crazy. A few hours with someone who doesn’t talk to me and I’m going insane,” you sighed. “Well, while we’re here, I have a few things to say, to get off my chest really,” you started your rant. “You know Will, my little brother. Well, Will is capable of holding his own, he can fight… maybe not your siblings, cause you’re all very, very, violent. But you don’t have to put him this far away each time you know, he notices.

“I’m saying,” you rested your back against the bed, “it could be different, you could come up with a different kind of strategy. It works for sure, you win a lot, but we could win in a different way also.

“You know I saw you,” you continued after a moment. “Being followed by these idiots. I thought you knew, and–,” you paused. “Ugh I should’ve tried to protect you. Warn you. It was my job. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? And it was hot as hell, you could’ve felt a little dizzy and I should’ve–”

“Shut up,” Clarisse wheezed.

You whipped around, standing up before backing away.

“Ar– Clarisse?” you whispered. “Are you feeling alright?” you walked to her.

Her eyes were still closed, she frowned and shook her head slightly.

“Waw, Ares kids are tougher than I thought,” you mumbled to yourself.

You went to grab some water and a straw, and sat next to Clarisse, on the bed.

“You should drink a bit.”

She opened her eyes, and stared at you, with a blank expression. You blinked, and smiled, holding up the straw to her mouth. You frowned when she refused to drink.

“Drinking water is good for you,” you added. “Please stop staring at me like you want to murder me.”

She rolled her eyes and drank everything before closing her eyes again, and turning her head on the other side.

“Well, I’ll be sleeping on this bed,” you pointed to the bed next to hers, “if you need anything, shout.”

Clarisse kept quiet, so you went to bed and fell asleep very quickly. Clarisse, on the other hand, could not fall asleep. She turned head around and looked at you. You clearly slept well, with your mouth slightly opened. After a few minutes of staring outside the window, her stomach growled. She needed to eat.

There had to be food in here – she looked around and spotted a basket full of fruits and cake. That’ll do. She gathered all her strength and tried to push herself up using her left arm and yelped in pain. That woke you up.

“What’s wrong?” you worried.

“Nothing,” Clarisse panted, biting her lips.

You rushed to her and saw her shoulder was bleeding again.

“What happened?” you worried, turning the lights on.

You grabbed clean bandages, and a clean towel with some alcohol and rushed back to her. Clarisse somehow managed to sit up, her right arm holding onto where her left shoulder was stabbed.

“Don’t cover it,” you pushed her hand away.

You started to remove the blood soaked bandages when she grabbed your hand to stop you. You gave her a questioning look. Clarisse quickly let go of your hand and looked away, breathing slowly. You opened your mouth, but then closed it and resumed your work.

“What were you trying to do anyway?” you asked when the wound was clean.

“I was hungry.”

“I–, I mean I did say to shout if you needed me but I was not thinking a pained scream with you bleeding again. Just a ‘hey y/n bring me food’ would’ve suffice. I would’ve been up. And that’s done. Good as new.”

Clarisse was still looking away from you which hid her head wound. When she turned her head toward you, you raised your hand to touch her face, but she flinched away hard at your sudden movement. You froze, too afraid to move again. No one talked or dared to breathe – the silence became heavy. Clarisse opened her eyes, and stared at you. She took your hand in hers and put it down.

“I–,” you breathed, “I was just going to check your head wound,” you murmured.

“Go ahead then,” she sat straighter.

You raised your hands slower this time, and tilted her head. You tore off her bandage and put it back in place. Clarisse could hear her heartbeat pacing up. Her mind and body stopped functioning. What was happening? She kept thinking about how your hands felt so warm in the night breeze, and how pretty you looked so close. Then when you dropped your hands, she came back to reality.

“Your face is still good. Like always,” and gave her a small smile.

“I’ll go eat,” she blurted out before leaving bed.

“Oh– okay. I can go to the kitchen and bring other things if you want.”

“No it’s fine,” she brushed you off, focused on the fruits in front of her.

Which was hard with you so close behind her. You watched Clarisse eat the strawberries and blueberries and grapes, and then you grabbed an orange and started to peel it. Once you were done you handed it to her. She grabbed it slowly and whispered a low thank you before eating it. Clarisse also ate half of the cake Katie brought to you earlier.

“Demeter kids, am I right,” you ate with her, “I don't know what they put in their cakes but I could eat them everyday. You should rest now,” you put your hand on her right arm and squeezed it. “You can barely stand.”

This time when Clarisse closed her eyes, she fell asleep instantly. And so did you. The next morning, you were the first one up. As soon as the sun rose, you were ready to start your day. You went to your cabin and washed up before grabbing a new toothbrush for Clarisse. You changed your clothes, and then went to the Ares cabin. You opened the door, and no one was up yet. You spotted the only empty bunk bed – Clarisse had one for herself – and saw her drawer next to it. You grabbed a new pair of pants, and a new camp-half blood tee and left in a hurry. Clarisse was up by the time you came back.

“I brought some of your clothes so you could change,” you gave her the clothes and the toothbrush. “I did sneak into your cabin, but I didn’t look through your stuff, don't worry about that,” you smiled. “I mean, except for your clothes – sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, I’ll let you change and I’ll be… not here for sure. I’ll go get breakfast!”

Clarisse watched you walk away, humming to some songs and when you were out of her sight, she got out of bed to change and clean herself. All she could think about was what happened yesterday. What even happened yesterday?

Before yesterday, you never spoke. She knew your name and vaguely knew what you looked like, but that was it. Since she arrived at camp, she didn’t once step into the infirmary – she didn’t need to. But now, for some reason, all she could think about was you. And how warm and soft your hands felt, how nice it felt to have you touch her face like that.

By the time you came back, Clarisse went back to bed and laid down. You gave her what you brought and you ate together, picking off the same plate.

“How are you feeling this morning? Does it still hurt?” you pointed at her shoulder.

“I’m—,” she stopped. “It still hurts,” which was true. “A lot,” that wasn’t..

“Really?” you worried. “I thought you’d be doing fine, because you woke so early. I thought your body was healing faster than most campers. Well,” you picked a strawberry with your fork, “you’ll have to stay here longer then.”

“Can’t go against the doctor’s orders,” she shrugged.

“True,” you smiled. “You finish this,” you pushed the plate toward her, “I’ll go get some supplies to change this,” you gently patted her shoulder.

You rolled your chair away, and grabbed what you needed and rolled back to Clarisse. You hopped onto her bed, and started your routine. The wounds were healing perfectly fine, and very quickly, so it was odd that Clarisse was still in extreme pain.

“I don’t think these wounds will scar,” you said.

“A shame, they’d make me look tougher.”

“Look?” you huffed. “You don’t need those to look tougher, you already do. Scary even,” you joke, but not really. “I mean I’m not scared– anymore… but yeah, some people may say– think you do. Anyway, scar or not, you’ll always look and be the toughest.”

“Anymore?” she grinned. “Were you before?”

“I mean,” you dragged that last vowel, “I don’t think scared is the right word. More like– intimidated. I never went to these meetings for Capture the Flag because I knew if you disagreed or worse – dismissed my ideas – I would’ve cried.”

“I never would’ve done that,” she chuckled, “I don’t think you’re capable of having bad ideas. Lee’s constantly praising you and giving us your ideas that I always take into account.”

“Really?” you couldn’t stop your smile.

She shrugged, and nodded. You playfully slapped her on the shoulder – the left one – and she yelped in pain.

“What the hell!”

‘Sorry!” you backed away, “it was a reflex.”

Clarisse ended up staying in the infirmary with you for three whole days, but she couldn’t fake it anymore when the wound completely healed and it was as if nothing had happened. The day she left, you cleaned up the room and sat alone on the couch, just like before.

It was weird. Usually, you enjoyed the silence and solitude of the room, but now it was as if time had stopped. Every time you looked at the clock, it’d only been two minutes. And so were the next few days. Then on Friday, as usual, Lee came in to visit. You worked in silence – which was the first odd thing Lee noticed – then he saw how you always stared at the empty bed Clarisse used to stay in.

“You’re being weird,” he said.

“I’m not!”

“You’re never this quiet when I visit.”

“The past few days were a bit dry,” you explained casually.

“You can say you miss Clarisse, it’s fine,” he sat next to you on the couch.

“I–,” you sighed. “It’s just… I was getting used to having someone with me.”

“Well maybe you should spend less time here and more time outside with, mmh I don’t know, Clarisse maybe.”

“What if she doesn’t see me as a friend though? What if I’m imagining things? She hasn’t visited me once.”

“Then you come back here, and the end.”

“I hate you,” you groaned. “You’re no help to me at all!”

When the door suddenly flew open which startled both of you. You could recognise these hair anywhere.

“Clarisse?” you called her name.

She turned to face you, and a gasp came out of your mouth before rushing to her.

“What happened to your face?” you held her arms.

Clarisse had a nasty cut going from her eyebrow to her hairline. She stared at you without saying anything before turning her gaze to Lee, and he spurted out some excuses and then left. But before he closed the door, he gave you a knowing look saying ‘see, she’s here’.

“What happened?” you frowned.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “These few days of rest weren’t a good idea I think.”

“That’s–,” you paused, “not accurate.”

But before she could reply, you grabbed her arm and dragged her to the other side of the room, and let her sit on the chair. You grabbed clean cotton and some alcohol and started to clean her wound. You stood closely to her, between her legs with her hands holding onto your thighs to stay steady.

“How did this happen anyway?” you asked.

“I was practising with my brothers.”

You frowned, and tried to step away but Clarisse was holding on tight to your thighs.

“You got beat up by your brothers?” you repeated with a raised eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing this. You’re just better than them,” you said casually before patching up her wound.

“Why do you know so much about my brothers’ skills?”

“I don’t! I know about yours. And from what I saw in the past, it’s always you leading the fight so I assumed that’s because you’re the best among them.”

“Mh,” she hummed, “well I guess you haven’t been doing your job very well if I’m not back to my old self yet,” she grinned.

“Or,” you grinned back, “maybe it’s your skills. I think they need a little sharpening. Maybe I could spare some time and teach you if you need.”

She suppressed a smile.

“Or, maybe you just want to spend time with me.”

You were close to each other, and Clarisse was still holding onto you. You crossed your arms, and stared at her. She was looking up at you, and you were looking down, which was a rare occurrence since she was much taller than you.

“I’m doing a favour to you at best. But if you don’t want to,” you sighed, “it’s–.”

“I do,” she affirmed.

That was the start of your friendship. Turns out Clarisse was really glad to hang out with someone that wasn’t her sibling. She was always the one seaking you out. At lunch, at dinner, during classes. All the time. Even when you were working, because somehow she always, always, ended up getting hurt.

One of the first times she came in after your friendship hangouts was for a sprained ankle. She came in limping, and threw herself on her – not really – bed, groaning.

“What happened?” you rushed to her side, worried. “You’re lucky I just came back in here!”

Clarisse didn’t want to admit this, but that was exactly why she was here. She was on her way to her cabin when she spotted you walking around with your sisters and she was so focused on you that she tripped and fell.

“I just fell,” she explained.

“You just fell,” you repeated slowly. “Right. Well lucky you because this,” you patted her leg, “will heal in no time with this,” you brought her some ambrosia.

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Oh.”

Then the next time she came, like the next few ones, were always injuries that required you to clean up the wound, and then patch her up. It went from tiny cuts to ‘I have a bruise here’ then showing you her perfectly unbruised skin to serious injuries that she got during Capture the Flag.

“You know at this rate I feel like you’re doing this on purpose,” you joked when she came in for the umpteenth time. “What is it this time?”

She shrugged and sat on her designated bed, and laid down. You joined her and sat next to where her legs rested. She held up her hand and you took it before she dragged you to lay beside her. The beds in the infirmary weren’t big enough for two so you were half laying on Clarisse with her arm resting behind your head.

“Did you paint that?” she asked.

The ceiling was painted by the Apollo cabin, all together you decided on a design and painted it over weeks worth of work.

“Here,” you pointed at the top of the painting. “That was painted by me.”

“Two planets?”

“The moon and Saturn,” you smiled.

“Linked by a thread?”

“Yea, the red string of fate. It’s from Chinese mythology. The old lunar matchmaker god, who is in charge of marriages, would tie together two people with this red string of fate and they are destined to be together, to be lovers regardless of time, place or circumstances. And no matter what, that thread will never break. It can stretch or get tangled up, but it never breaks.”

“And what about the moon and Saturn then?” she frowned, confused.

“Because,” you paused. “Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn,” you started to sing, “Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long.”

You turned your head to look at her only to see confusion on her face.

“Taylor Swift, seven,” you explained. “It’s great, we’ll have to listen to it someday.”

“Sure.”

“Really?” you looked at her excitedly.

“Yeah, you seem to like her so sure, I’ll listen with you,” she shrugged.

“Oh and that’s Will’s painting,” you showed her another corner. “That’s my dad and his lover, Hyacinthus. That’s where the name of the flower came from. Isn’t that kind of sweet how he named a flower after him.”

“I mean didn’t Apollo kill – by accident – Hyacinthus?” she grimaced.

“Or Zephyrus was so jealous of my dad that he killed his lover, because he couldn’t get no man. My dad is an excellent archer. His aim never failed him. I don’t see how it’s possible for him to kill his lover. But gods being petty over these kinds of things, that I can believe.”

Clarisse hummed in agreement.

“But enough about my father’s love life,” you shrugged, turning around to face Clarisse, “what about your dad? Still desperately trying to woo someone else’’s wife?”

“I don’t want to talk about my dad,” she yawned, then closed her eyes.

“Okay.”

Just as you were about to continue talking, you noticed that Clarisse had fallen asleep. It was still early in the afternoon so it was still bright outside. You looked around and started to get up so you could pull the curtains but Clarisse grabbed your arm to pull you closer to her, locking you in her arms.

“Don’t go,” she mumbled.

“Okay,” you whispered and stayed still.

The thing was, Clarisse was like a human radiator. Sleeping in her arms felt exactly like sleeping under tons of heavy blankets. This much warmth only resulted in falling asleep in Clarisse’s arms. When you woke, you were alone in bed.

“Slacking off during work hours,” Lee said standing next to you.

“Fuck!” you jumped off bed. “Why were you staring at me sleeping!” you screamed.

“You weren’t there and it’s almost time for dinner. I’m being a nice brother!” he shouted back.

“Oh. Well, thanks!” you yelled, and gave him a smile.

You both left to join your siblings at the dining pavilion, and once you sat at your usual spot, you scanned the room in search of Clarisse. She was at her table like usual, and eating in silence, head hanging low. Your tactic of staring at her wasn’t working even though you knew she knew that you were staring at her.

“What are you doing?” Lee kicked you with his elbow. “Did something happen with Clarisse?” he whispered.

You shook your head.

“I mean,” you leaned in whispering, “we did sleep together.”

Lee’s eyes widened, mouth wide open and he backed away in shock.

“You– you slept together? In the infirmary?”

“Not slept together,” you rolled your eyes, “she fell asleep and did I.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, she left without saying anything,” you explained. “And now, I feel like she’s avoiding me.”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“She’s avoiding me, I’ve been staring at her for at least fifteen minutes and nothing. Not a glance from her.”

“Okay creep. But once again, just talk to her. It would solve all your problems here.”

“She’s the one who doesn’t talk. I talk. A lot!”

“Trust me, I know. I just don’t think Ares kids are the best at talking, you know.”

“Fine.”

But as it turned out, Clarisse mastered the art of avoiding people – you – when she wanted to. Whenever you tried to talk to her, she would disappear. After a few days of trying, you gave up and told everything to Lee.

“If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, then fine by me,” you frowned, holding back your tears.

“I’m sure you’re overthinking this,” he tried to comfort you.

“Oh please,” you huffed. “You saw what happened this morning when I tried to talk to her. I’ll get over it,” you whispered. “I’ll get over her.”

Lee considered himself your best friend, and favourite brother. You never said these things, but he considered you his best friend and favourite sister. And as your best friend he had to do something, he had to talk to Clarisse and give her a piece of his mind. So that night, he was a man on a mission. He walked to the Ares cabin, and waited for Clarisse to either go or or go out.

“Clarisse!” he called her name when she finally left her cabin.

“What do you want, Fletcher?” Clarisse sighed, clearly annoyed.

“Oh, so you do speak. And here I thought you lost that ability,” he snickered.

“I will punch you in the face.”

Lee rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I’m not scared, unlike you.”

“What–.”

“You’re scared to talk to y/n for whatever reason, and I need you to pluck up the courage to talk to her because you’re making her miserable by avoiding her.”

“I–,” she froze.

Was she making you miserable?

“You’re just doing your thing and going to her when you need, when you want but have you ever thought about what she was thinking? No. You would if you’d just listened to her, but no,” he made a big gesture, “avoiding her like the plague.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she mumbled, looking away.

“I’m telling you that you made a mistake, and if you continue down this path you’re going to lose her for good. I’m not saying this for you, because I couldn’t care less about you, but y/n is my sister and I want her to be happy and for some reason you are making her happy,” he rolled his eyes, “so do whatever you want with this information.”

Clarisse stood there, not saying anything, watching Lee walking away. But then he stopped and turned around to walk toward her again.

“Before I forget,” Lee added before throwing his strongest punch in her face. “For making my sister cry.”

And he ran away, before Clarisse could punch him back. But Clarisse was too busy thinking about you to think about Lee and what he just did. If it weren’t for that afternoon in the infirmary, she probably would’ve ran to you so you could take care of her, but now, she couldn’t. So she went to sleep, wishing that tomorrow it’ll be better.

You were one of the first campers to arrive for breakfast. You ate slowly, and by the time the dining pavilion was filled with campers, you were done. But you stayed and listened to your siblings talk. Just as you were about to leave, Clarisse came in and you dropped your fork in shock. She had a black eye and her cheek was bruised, with her nose in a weird shape. She looked at you, as you stood urgently. But then you froze – should you go to her? You sat back down, still staring at Clarisse.

“What happened to her?” Will whispered to you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back.

“You don’t? I thought you were friends.”

“Yea, me too,” you sighed.

Clarisse was walking to her table, dragging her feet along and when she walked past the Apollo table, you stood and grabbed hand, forcing her to face you. When you noticed several heads staring at you, you dragged Clarisse away and brought her to the archery field.

“What happened to your face?” you held her face in your hands.

“Nothing,” she leaned into your touch.

“Clarisse,” you whispered. “Just talk to me please.”

“Lee came to have a little chat with me yesterday.”

“He did this?” you gasped.

“Yeah.”

You held your hand to your mouth, in shock and to hide a tiny part of you that wanted to laugh.

“And?” you asked.

“He said I was making you miserable.”

“That’s not true!” you insisted.

“I ignored you. And I shouldn't have. I don’t–” she hesitated, “want to lose you,” she mumbled.

“Then just talk to me, we’re friends too.”

“I– I don’t know,” she stepped back and took a deep breath. “I was confused! I– I don’t know I like it when you take care of me,” she admitted in a low voice. “I’m being weird and–.”

“You’re not,” you held her arms. “It’s not weird to love physical touch. I mean, I just assumed that it was your love language you know.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“I think what you like is when I hold you or when I touch you because you love physical touch,” you began, “and you were doing everything to visit me, pretending to be a bad fighter and getting hurt on purpose.”

“No that’s no–,” she shook her head.

“It’s fine! My love language is quality time, and there’s nothing wrong—.”

“No it’s different–.”

“It’s not! It’s fi—.”

“It’s because I like you,” she blurted out.

Oh. You couldn’t help but smile at her confession.

“It’s not funny!” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“I’m not laughing! I’m… happy about this outcome,” you rested your head against her arms and looked up. “Because I like you too Clarisse.”

“Really?” she stared at you.

You nodded.

“I’m sorry about ignoring you,” she added.

“Mmh,” you smiled, “I accept your apology. But you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Anything you want.”

“A kiss?”

Clarisse uncrossed her arms and held your face instead and leaned in to kiss you eagerly. And you happily gave in, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“Mmh, keep doing that and I’ll forgive you, no doubt.”

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue fanfic #clarisse x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue #pjo x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue x fem!reader

537 notes · View notes

lalal-99 · 8 months ago

Text

Sweet Thing {s.c.}

9 “ That feels good…” 14 “Spread your legs, sweet thing.” 33 “Please, just let me come!"

Changbin x afab!reader | trope: strangers to lovers, regular hookup turns serious | smut | wordcount: 1.8k

Synopsis: You know nothing about the hot guy you've been hooking up with for months. You're not even sure about his name. Obviously, you need to change that. In the middle of sex is probably not the right time, but so what?!

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Note: Well, I don't know what to say for myself. The prompt event happened in March/April 2022. And here I am, 2 years later. Some requested prompts are still in my inbox, and I do think I will write something for each eventually. For now, please enjoy this one :) Also, thanks @jl-micasea-fics for letting me use your prompts. I know it's been two years, but still, credit where its due ;)

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig @itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @svintsandghosts @poutypoutybin @hyunjinswifeee @sunlitwilderness

Tumblr works on a reblog system. Please consider reblogging this post so that it can reach more people.

Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You!

“Spread your legs, sweet thing.”

Against every fibre in your body, you disobey and further the distance to the unbelievably attractive man instead. Much to his dismay.

“Hey,” he tilts your gaze towards himself by the touch of your jaw. A sweet gesture, seeing you were heavily making out seconds before. “What’s going on?”

Hidden away in the small bathroom of your favourite bar, you find yourself perched on the counter. Most definitely the product of the alcohol intoxicating your system.

“Sorry—” you excuse yourself, wiping your hands down the sides of face. “I’m good. Let’s keep going.”

Expecting him to continue where you had left of, you’re surprised to find him leaning against the wall. “Not until you tell me what’s going on in that stunning head of yours.”

A light blush spreads over your cheeks towards your ears and your lip wanders between your teeth. Because the reason for your distraction is so stupid.

“It’s just, we’ve been doing this for a while.” Hooking up at this very bar every weekend for the past few months. For the life of you, you can’t remember how it even started. Possibly with a conversation and his hand on your thigh. Probably with a few shots while celebrating your birthday. “And I don’t know anything about you.”

“Which hasn’t been a problem until now. So, where’s this coming from?”

The first few times were fun. Hooking up in the bathroom, words limited to the absolute necessary. If anything, it made it even hotter. Being with a stranger whose name you hardly remember. But then the comments started. You don’t know which of your friend was the first to say something. It might have been Seungmin, questioning how you could keep hooking up weekly without knowing the first thing about him.

And now you can’t shake the comment out of you if you try. The voice is a constant tenant of your metaphorical head-apartment. Living rent-free.

“My friends. They’ve been asking questions about you. None of which I can answer.” Which is stupid, because it shouldn’t matter. What matters is the incredibly handsome and muscular guy in front of you. Changbin— you think.

You’re surprised when he doesn’t laugh at or dismiss their concern. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.”

Cocking an eyebrow, you look down at his hands as they begin travelling up your thighs again. Leaving goosebumps as they burn into your skin.

“Do what?”

“Get to know each other. Might as well play 21 questions while we’re at it.”

His lips brush against your jaw before he urges them against your neck. Checking the quickening of your pulse as he licks at the veins.

“Come on. Hit me.”

But you can’t think. His touches are a true distraction, moans tumbling out of your mouth as you finally spread your legs for him. He slots between them, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle.

“You do know how 21 questions works, right?”

His hands grope at your flesh, pulling you closer until you can feel him against your most sensitive part. Why’d you have to speak up? He could have been inside you by now, but you had to open your stupid mouth.

“Yeah— Just— Can’t think.”

“Fine,” he gives in, pulling at your lip as he kisses you. You’re so hot, you wonder whether you’re nursing a fever. “I’ll tell you three things about me, then. Speed things up. ‘S that alright?”

“Please.” You’re begging now, nails digging into the skin of his bulky arms as he’s dragging his clothed crotch against you. “Feels so good.”

“First one.” Changbin pulls your top up over your breasts, freeing your bra. His thick fingers brush against your nipples, forcing a shudder through your body. “I go to the gym five times a week.”

“Obvious—ngh,” you agree turns into a throaty moan as he nibbles at your left breast. Your panties soaked already as you mumble into the night. “Deeper.”

“I’m not even inside you yet.” His chuckle vibrates through your torso. Then he grazes his teeth against your second nipple, and you might as well have lost your head.

“No. Tell me— fuck— tell something deeper. Something not— not everyone knows.”

You’re entering heaven when his hand wanders down your side and towards the hem of your skirt. It wiggles below the fabric, setting flames to your loins. You’re burning from the inside out as this stranger handles your body like he created it himself. Knows how to make you go absolutely insane. And that’s with his clothes still on.

“I call my mom every day.” That definitely fits the category of deep talk. Although, the thought of Changbin’s mother doesn’t exactly fit the moment. “Number three, I’d like to take you out one of these days.”

When the tip of his thumb reaches for your clit, you see the realisation hit his features in real time. You’ve ruined your panties and he can feel it. He has ruined you, and he can see it. From your rolled-back eyes to your tossed-back head. You’re in absolute ecstasy.

Changbin thumbs at your nub, drawing circles with your own wetness. Smirking with pride like a lunatic.

“Your turn, sweet thing. Three things about you, then you get to come.”

No words describe the hatred you feel for yourself when you realise he’s serious. The trajectory of earning your orgasm is as much arousing as it is frustrating. If only you hadn’t said a thing.

“I’m—” You tumble forward as his middle finger enters you. And him? He cocks his head at you, playing confused.

“Sorry? I don’t understand you. Can you speak up?”

Asshole.

“Music,” you mumble, breathless. “I like music. Listening. Making.”

“That’s one. You’re doing so good for me.” A kiss swallows the whine as he enters another finger. Your walls are clenching around him as his thumb practically attacks your clit. It feels so good, but it’s not enough and Changbin knows. “I tell you what. Give me a second, and I’ll give you a third. Sound good?”

You nod, frantic, needing—nay, craving—another one of his fingers.

“I’m good— good at— oh, God.” Hands are clawing at his shirt, the black and red fabric almost ripping from the strength he ignites in you. Your stomach is tensing tight, and he slows down. It’s an alarming promise, Changbin threatening to leave you high and dry if you don’t give him another one. A second fact about yourself. “Maths. I’m good at maths.”

You’re all but howling when he enters a third finger and curls them up against your spot. That’s when you loose the rest of control over your body. None of your movements are under your own command anymore, Changbin’s the sole reason you’re even still sitting upright.

“That’s two. I thought you were good at maths. You’re one short of earning my mouth, sweet thing.”

The promise alone almost makes you fall of the edge. His mouth on you. Coaxing you to your sweet, sweet release. It’s not far, but Changbin is the only one who can make you reach it. You don’t doubt he’ll leave you on the edge if you don’t give him a third fact.

It’s unfortunate that you can’t form coherent sentences anymore. Let alone think of a third fact about yourself. Absolutely pathetic.

“Please—” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stare up at him, begging, pleading. “Please, just let me come.”

“Nuh-uh,” he teases with a smirk. A soft kiss hits your nose, then your lips. “That’s not a fact, sweet thing. Don’t you want to come on my tongue?”

Again, the thought alone has you clenching on his fingers. You’re so full, so close, and yet, can’t think of anything.

Maybe if you copy one of his facts, he won’t notice, right? But what was it he said? Oh, right. Gym, mom, date. But, you don’t go to the gym and you don’t talk to your mom daily.

“So, what is it?”

“Date!” you blurt out and he looks confused. “Take me out.” But that’s a prompt, not a fact, so you correct even further, teetering on the edge of heaven and hell. “I’d like it, I mean.”

Changbin debates for a second whether your words count as a fact. You can tell he wants to tease you some more, relishes in it. Thank God, he decides against it.

A sigh of relief escapes you when he finally leans down, pushes your skirt up and connects his lips to yours. And that’s all it takes.

One second his tongue prods against your clit, the next you’re coming on it.

And come, you do. You’re sure you’re squirting all over his face as he swallows up every bit of your release. Cleans you with his mouth until you’re glistening in spit and overstimulation. It doesn’t seem he wants to leave the space between your thighs and you have to drag him away when it becomes too much.

“Sweet, sweet thing,” he teases with a smile when he comes up, licking his lips. His hair is a mess, likely from your hands tugging at the strands and he looks like sex-on-legs. Cheeks dark pink, lips just as, and eyes blurry from arousal. He’s so, so hot, and you’re heating up again already as he’s kissing your lips with pure passion. “So, about that date…”

“Name a place and a time. I’ll be there.”

He chuckles, pulling you from the counter and turning you around. You will never tire from him, treating you like a doll. Bending and breaking you as he pleases. Those damn muscles flex as his arms wrap around your body and he pushes you up against the sink.

“We’ll get there. In fact…” he pulls your skirt over your asscheeks, giving them a delicious squeeze as he hums. Next thing you know, he frees his cock, reaching into his jeans to pull out a condom. And you wonder how Changbin is still so hot while wrapping himself in the latex. “How about you come three more times.”

You gulp at the thought, finding him in the mirror.

“One for a time and one for a place.”

That’s only two. You’re good at maths, or at least you think you are. Changbin might have fucked that brain right out of you.

“And the last one— one— fuck, you’re tight,” he praises as he enters you from behind.

Once he bottoms out, he collects himself, flicking your nipples as he watches you through the glass. And yet again, you’re a chaotic mess in his hands. With your head thrown back against his chest, you’re sent straight back to your own personal nirvana.

That’s when Changbin finishes his prior statement, a proud smirk glued to his face. “The last one’s simply for good measure.”

Masterlist Leave your thoughts!

542 notes · View notes