#my new bedtime story fr
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
i come before you today @ripcupid thank you for this masterpiece i owe you like my first born or something pls never stop writing for sevika i love your work😭🙏🏾 I don’t even have any requests, I’ll read anything you write if it has sevika in it‼️💯💯💯
━━━ ★ something special . . . !
୨୧ literally just sevika fucking u in silco’s office, what’s the something special? SHIMMER STRAP OFC
୨୧ word count: 2.2k
( I’m ovulating so don’t mind 2 fics in 1 day)
୨୧ shimmer strap fanart if you’ve never seen it
“Just such a pretty girl, aren’t ya?” Sevika praises softly, making you nod as you rest your head on her muscular thigh, looking up at her with your pretty eyes as her mechanical hand comes down to gently stroking your hair. “Yeah, you were such a good girl tonight, didn’t complain not once. I think you deserve something special, don’t ya think?”
“Yes, please, Sevika,” you whine, lifting your head as you eagerly anticipate her “something special”. Sevika smirks at your eagerness as she reaches down, slowly unzipping her pants to let her shimmer strap string out. Your eyes go big at the sight of the glowing purple toy, chewing on your bottom lip as you stare at the size of it.
“This what you wanted, baby?” She asks, wrapping her hand around the base, already knowing the answer by the way you never take your eyes off it as it stands proudly between her legs. She lifts your chin, tearing your eyes away from the toy to make eye contact. “I asked you a question.”
“I want it so bad, Sevika, been waiting all night,” you whine with furrowed brows, your voice filled with desperation and need, whimpering when she squishes your cheeks together.
“You know what you gotta do first though,” Sevika chuckles lightly, guiding your awaiting lips closer to her cock, “give it a kiss, baby.” You comply eagerly, pressing a sweet soft kiss to the tip of her cock, looking up at Sevika with pleading eyes.
You kiss down the length of her cock, your tongue peeking out to trace the ridges. Sevika's grip tightens in your hair as you continue to worship her cock, a low laugh escaping her lips. "You like my cock, don't you?" she teases, spreading her legs wider as you eagerly nod in response.
"It's so pretty," you murmur, sitting back to trace along ridges, feeling how the shimmer gives the toy a slight buzz under your fingertips. You lick up the bit of shimmer that drips down the tip before taking it into your mouth. Sevika brushes back your hair from your face, balling it up into her fist, a smug smile playing on her lips as she guides you down her cock.
"Look at you, baby," she purrs, her hips bucking slightly just to hear you gag around her length. Your eyes water as you struggle to take her all in, but Sevika encourages you with a soft moan as if she could actually feel you. "You're okay, keep going," she whispers, gently pushing your head further down.
You feel a surge of arousal at her words, closing your eyes to focus on pleasing the woman above you. As you settle at the base of her cock, Sevika holds you there for a moment before slowly pulling you off with a soft tug on your hair.
She admires the flushed look on your face and the strings of saliva connecting your lips to her length, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as you pant softly. She strokes your cheeks, brushing her mechanical thumb across your lips making you kiss the cold metal finger. "C'mon," she says, moving back to give you room, "Get up here," Sevika commands, patting the desk in front of her.
You quickly scramble to your feet, sitting down in front of her as she leans back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You can't help but press your thighs together as she stares at you, shying away as she scots closer, her hands resting on your knees.
"Gimme a kiss," she whispers. You lean down, closing the short gap between you as you meet her lips in a sweet kiss. She holds your hips as you hold her face, your lips moving in sync with hers. Her hands find their way to your shirt, pushing it over your chest to reveal your bare tits.
Her hands caress your bare back, sending shivers down your body as she traces your spine with her cool metal fingers. You moan against her lips as her hands find their way to your tits, kneading them gently as she deepens the kiss.
"Lean back for me," she whispers against your lips. You obey, leaning back on your elbows as she spreads your legs apart. You shiver as the cool metal of her hand holds your thighs open, exposing your damp panties to her hungry gaze.
"Fuck, baby, you're this wet already?" she chuckles, "just from sucking my cock and a few kisses?" You bite your lip, your face burning up with embarrassment as her human hand flips up your skirt. Your breath hitches as Sevika presses her thumb against your clothed clit, feeling the bud twitch under her touch.
"I can't help it, Sev," you gasp as she starts to slowly rubs circles around your clit through your panties, "You just make me so fucking wet."
"I can tell, baby," she smirks, dragging her thumb over your folds, feeling your wetness seep through the fabric. You can't help but whine softly as Sevika removes her hand from between your legs, pouting when she leaves you aching and desperate. "Calm down," she chuckles, pulling you to the edge of the desk.
You squirm against the desk as Sevika's tongue suddenly presses against your aching core, sending shivers down your spine as she soaks your panties. You let out a choked moan as she pulls back slightly to blow cool air against your wetness, making you gasp and your hips buck towards her face.
Sevika places soft kisses to the ruined fabric clinging to your cunt before pulling them down your legs, spreading your legs wider to get a better look at your drooling cunt. "You got such a pretty pussy," she murmurs, spreading your folds with her human fingers before licking a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit, causing you to moan loudly and arch your back off the desk in pleasure.
"Tastes so sweet too," Sevika adds before easily slipping two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit your g-spot and make you cry out. "That easy, huh?" she teases, removing her finger before popping them in her mouth, savoring your taste before leaning in to suck your clit into her mouth, holding you in place with a firm grip around your thighs to stop you from trying to get away.
You fall back on the desk, your hands instinctively reaching for her hair, tangling your fingers in the short dark locs as you use her face for your own pleasure. As you fuck yourself on her tongue and grip her hair, Sevika moans in response, the vibrations against your clit making your thighs tremble and close around her head.
You feel the familiar tension starting to build in your belly, the feeling dissipates as soon as Sevika pulls back with an obscene pop. "No, no please, Sevy," you whine, sitting back up on your elbows as she smirks up at you, teasingly licking her lips before standing from her seat. "Shh, no whining, baby," she says, pushing your legs up to your chest, "Just tell me what you want… with your words."
"I wanna cum, please, Sevy," you beg, the desperation evident in your voice as you look up at her with pleading eyes. Sevika grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your pouty lips, "Where though, my fingers?" she teases, dragging her fingers down your stomach, "or my tongue, or I know, how about my cock?"
You nod eagerly, your cunt aching just at the thought, "Your cock, please," you whimper. Sevika chuckles, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she pulls your ass flush against her, "Good choice, baby," she grins, positioning herself between your legs, comparing the size of her cock to your body. "You think you can take it?" You nod eagerly again, reaching down to try and guide her inside you.
She chuckles softly, pushing aside your hands and teasingly tracing the tip of her cock along your slick folds, making you gasp with anticipation. Sevika watches the bit of shimmer that dribbles out of her cock with a smirk, enjoying the way it glistens against your cunt.
"If my girl thinks she can handle it, who am I to argue?" Sevika shrugs, holding your legs wide open as she slowly pushes into you. You moan loudly in response to the delicious stretch and fullness as she fills you completely.
"Wait, wait," you pant as Sevika settles all the way inside you, reaching for her hips to try and stop her as she pulls out, "I need a moment, please."
Sevika grins down at you, stopping her movements, "I thought you could take it?"
"I can, I swear," you assure her, "It's just so big and you're so deep." Sevika chuckles softly, leaning down to kiss you softly. You can feel her smirk against your lips as you wrap your legs and arms around her, kissing her back with equal fervor. "Don't worry," she whispers, "I'll be gentle with you, baby." Sevika stands back up, holding your hips firmly, "Ya ready?"
You nod eagerly, a long moan leaving your lips as Sevika slowly begins to move again, easing in and out of you with a steady rhythm. You grip onto her forearms, your nails digging into her skin and metal as she stretches you out on her cock. "Oh god, Sevika," you gasp, your jaw dropping as she picks up the pace, feeling each ridge and bump of her cock inside you with every thrust.
"I know, baby," Sevika grunts, her own breath becoming ragged as the harness presses against her neglected clit, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her cunt. "You feel me here?" she taunts, pressing down on your stomach as she continues to slowly thrust into you.
You cry out when she does, placing your hand on top of hers, "Yes, oh you're so deep," you moan, grabbing onto her hand. Sevika places your legs on her shoulders, her thrusts now deeper and hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back. Silco's former office fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans mixing with hers, creating a sight that would leave anyone who walked in speechless.
Sevika leans down, folding her body over yours, pressing her forehead against yours as she grunts, "Love this pussy so fucking much, she takes my cock so well," she grips your cheeks in her human hand, catching your lips in a searing kiss before she pulls back slightly, locking eyes with you as she groans, "You feel so good, baby, swear I can feel you 'round me."
You cling onto Sevika, feeling the tension building once again in your core as she continues to fuck you with an pace that leaves you breathless.You stare into her eyes, holding her face in your hand as you whimper, "You feel so good, Sevy, please don't stop," your voice trembling with desire.
Sevika feels herself getting close to coming in her pants from the pressure of the harness against her aching and throbbing clit and your breathless pleas, dropping her head against yours again. She whispers, "I won't, baby, need you to come for me," her breath hot against your skin.
Her head nuzzles in your neck to plant soft kisses on your heated skin, her hand groping your tits as she continues to thrust into you with a relentless pace, driving you both closer to the edge. You arch your back, your clit bumping against Sevika's abs with every movement. Sevika leans in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing your moans as you teetering on the edge.
"I'm gonna cum," you whisper breathlessly, your eyes fluttering shut as you clinging onto Sevika. With one final deep thrust, Sevika sends you over the edge, your legs shaking by her head with every thrust as you ride out your high.
Once you start to come down, Sevika slowly pulls out, watching the shimmer drip out from your quivering cunt as she slides off the harness. She pulls you to sit up, pressing gentle kisses along your neck and face as you catch your breath.
"You wanna make cum now, baby?" Sevika whispers in your ear, holding you close as you nod, a dazed smile spreading across your face. Your hands find their way between Sevika's legs, feeling her how she bucks towards you once you start to circle her neglected clit.
"Oh fuck, that's perfect, baby, " Sevika moans, her lips finding yours in a passionate kiss as she guides your fingers with a tight grip on your wrist. You grin as she twitches and shakes against you, your own desire growing with each curse word and moan that escapes her lips.
As she quickly reaches her peak, you feel a surge of satisfaction knowing you were able to return the pleasure she had given you. With a final gasp, Sevika collapses against you, her body still trembling from her release. You wrap your arms around her neck as she holds your hips.
"We should probably clean up," Sevika pants, pulling away from you slightly. "But that was so good, baby," she adds with a smile, planting a soft kiss on your lips before grabbing discrated clothes
"Thanks, Sevy," you smile as she hands you your shirt before she fixes herself.
-send request if you have any 🤍
#sevika smut#arcane sevika#sevika#sevika x reader#sevika arcane#holy moly#loved it#arcane smut#this and yap#malaïkacha#my new bedtime story fr
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
we used to have more | oscar piastri
part 2 part 3 part 4
pairing: oscar piastri x reader
summary: while working as community manager in formula 1 you have to follow a rule of no fraternization with the drivers, which keeps you and oscar from being together
fc: different girls from pinterest
warnings: some characters have names (because there’s only so many y/f/n that i can use), some mentions of oscar’s girlfriend as her ex
a/n: so i have this one shot called guilty as sin? (that you should totally go read) and i’ve been thinking about expanding on it a little because i keep getting ideas around the same concept so welcome to an au version of my own fic in smau format, enjoy!
—
liked by oscarpiastri, lissiemackintosh and others
yourusername another season, another year of trying to make f1 fun for the girlies🎀
view all comments
lissiemackintosh do you just casually serve face like this on a random thursday?
yourusername occupational hazards 😝
username my girl is back !!!
username she’s so classy i love her
username i need the girlies that find her clothes to find everything in this dump asap!
username my icon
username y/n please stay in f1 forever thank you❤️
username oh to be a woman in f1
username FINALLY
liked by f1wags and others
f1gossip mclaren’s oscar piastri was seen this weekend next to y/n y/l/n (the community manager of f1 social media) on different occasions. the people who sent us the videos said that oscar was the one that looked for her and approached her every time
tagged oscarpiastri and yourusername
view all comments
username yeah no
username pls lord let this be fake news
username he. approached. her. every. time.
username idk they look kinda cute together
username hoping and praying this was just for content or something
username nooo y/n is one of the f1 female icons, dating a driver would be such a setback for her 😩
username pls if she wants to date a driver then it’s her business, doesn’t take away everything she’s done for women in motorsports
username i love y/n and oscar separately, together …. uhmmm
username omg my faves!!! i hope they date they’d be so cute together 🥰
liked by exgirlfriend, logansargeant and others
oscarpiastri back to my roots in baku 🏎
view all comments
username good luck this year 🧿🧿🧿
username manifesting a championship as we speak 🕯
username ugh look at him i just KNOW a future F1 champion when i see it
username omg the ex girlfriend liked 🫣
username are we about to see episode 37283 of them getting back together after breaking up? 😅
username he looks so cute in that go-kart🥺
username let’s go oscar 🍾🍾🍾
landonorris 👊🏽👊🏽👊🏽
oscarpiastri 😉
username nonchalant king!
lissiemackintosh’s instagram stories
[caption 1: milesbaldwin, declanmurray] [caption 2: yourusername my 💗]
liked by miguelsossa, exgirlfriend and others
yourusername always hustling as you can see 🧘🏽♀️
tagged milesbaldwin
view all comments
username so beautiful 🤩
username the outfitttt >>>
username my fashion icon fr
milesbaldwin working hard or hardly working? 🧐
yourusername you’re one to talk
milesbaldwin i’m being attacked here pls defend my honor declanmurray miguelsossa
lissiemackintosh y/n is right miles you took two naps in one hour while we were making content
milesbaldwin !!! declanmurray miguelsossa
declanmurray girls be nice to miles
milesbaldwin 😁
declanmurray it’s past his bedtime
miguelsossa 🤣🫵🏽 milesbaldwin
username i love their friendship😩
username wtf oscar’s ex liked her post and unliked it 😭
liked by f1wags and others
f1gossip mclaren’s oscar piastri was seen this weekend with his ex girlfriend at the paddock together, emerging rumors of possibly getting back together after six months of breaking up
tagged oscarpiastri and exgirlfriend
view all comments
username not again
username does this man doesn’t know there’s other women alive?
username guys leave him alone he’s competing for the trophy of who can get back with their ex the most times
username but … but … y/n ….
username i thought they were together too 😩
username i honestly prefer him with y/n than back with his ex for the millionth time
username guys they’re holding hands… it’s over
username my guy really lost the game of getting over your ex
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri fluff#f1 x reader#f1#formula one#formula one x reader#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fanfic#op81#smau#oscar piastri smau#f1 smau#formula 1 smau#social media au#5 seconds of summer#we used to have more
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta
pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader
summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.
➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius
A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx
warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!
w/c: 5.9k
latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady
As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.
Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.
As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.
From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.
Fatum.
You had first learnt the word as a little one.
You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.
Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.
She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”
And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.
Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?
And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.
“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”
Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.
As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.
You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.
On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.
You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.
With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.
As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.
At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.
So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.
Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.
And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.
A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.
But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.
Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?
Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.
Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.
After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.
Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.
After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.
Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.
“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”
You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.
What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.
The hands fastening the brooch faltered as she gathered a response.
“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.
The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.
But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.
You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.
“Please, Domina.”
She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.
Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.
Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.
Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.
Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.
“It appears your outfit is missing something.”
You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.
In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.
Your mother’s favourite veil.
Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.
What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.
Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.
Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.
He wanted something from you.
Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.
You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”
Unphased, he stepped further into the room. “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.
“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”
You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.
“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.”
After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.
“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced.
As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”
You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”
His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.
Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words.
One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.
“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”
“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”
His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued.
“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”
With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”
You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”
Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.
“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”
“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”
“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”
Again with the cryptic words.
“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.”
Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.
“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”
There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.
“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”
“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”
While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.
There may be greater things in store for you yet.
And those greater things began with this banquet.
Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you.
Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.
As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.
But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second, you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.
You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.
Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.
Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”
You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like.
With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed.
“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”
“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.
More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow.
“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.
“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”
You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.
A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.
Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin.
Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.
But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you.
And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.
Well-suited to be Empress.
Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.
He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult.
“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”
“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”
Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”
At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.
There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile.
“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.”
Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.
For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.
Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”
You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.
Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.
“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…”
With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak.
“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”
His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.” He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”
With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.
“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”
“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.
“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.
The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.
But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.
With swan-like grace you knelt before him and took his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.
“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. “There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”
Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.
“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze.
“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.
With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.
You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention.
“And what power would that be?”
Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”
See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.
The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.
Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.
“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.
“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.
“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.
His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”
“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”
Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.
“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”
“Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”
Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.
You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.
Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla.
At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.
The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.
Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.
The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.
Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.
“Break the spell! Break the spell!”
Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor.
Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.
Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo.
From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.
Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room.
The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned.
Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable.
Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face.
“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”
Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”
“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”
The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.
“Wouldn’t you agree?”
As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours.
He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup.
His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.
“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.”
As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.
Gods help you.
A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3
likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x
© onyxstyx tumblr 2025
#emperor geta x reader#geta x reader#gladiator ii#gladiator ii fic#gladiator 2 fic#gladiator ii fanfiction#geta x you#geta imagine#emperor geta#𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘢? 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 '𝘦𝘳!#𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘹𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘹 𝘧𝘪𝘤
644 notes
·
View notes
Text
DOWN BAD! 02
Synopsis: Despite undeniable chemistry, your guys’ relationship remains undefined, caught between playful teasing to deeper, unspoken longing.
Pairings: bad boy! jungkook x fem! reader
Genre: friends to lovers. college au. slowburn!
Warnings: angst, drug use, profanity, explicit content, talks about abusive home, fighting, arguing, screaming, crying, flashbacks, oc and jk are nineteen (freshmen’s in uni) mentions of death, daddy/mommy issues.
a/n: GOSHHHHHHH! pray for my girl yn😓😓 she’s down bad and she fr ain’t getting up. Left you guys on a cliffhanger hehe. enjoy🤍🤍
01! playlist
"What do you want?" He says, the smallest glint of amusement on his face has Jungkook's stomach recoiling.
"The regular," Jungkook found himself saying, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "I don't have opioids. My supplier said there was a shortage—want to try some new shit?" Yoongi says as he balances his cigarette on his lips, looking into a cabin.
"You've tried snow before, right?" He looks up at Jungkook who stands there. "No, I told you l don't fuck with that shit," Jungkook shakes his head, putting his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans.
"It's on me, just try it," Yoongi hands Jungkook a small bag filled with white powder. "Just snort it and let it do its thing, boy," Yoongi chuckles as he watches Jungkook look down at the drug in his palm. "It won't kill you if that's what you're thinking," he continues, taking a drag from his cigarette before exhaling.
Jungkook's mind immediately goes to you as the words leave Yoongi's mouth.
“You’re going to kill yourself,” you scream, your hands pulling on your hair as Jungkook watches silently—his heart breaking as he sees the tear fall from your eye. Whatever he wants to say stays stuck in his throat.
“I’ll be fine,” Jungkook finds himself muttering, a loud scoff heard from you as you hold his face in your hands, making him look up at you. “Tell me what’s wrong, fuck! I’ll fix it, just tell me,” you cry out. Jungkook watches as your legs give out and you drop to the floor in front of him.
Jungkook feels his stomach drop, his heartbeat stops, and his mind goes blank. He wants to drop to his knees and beg you to not care and run away as far as you can from him, but the selfish part of him wants you to stay.
“Baby,” Jungkook slurs, the drugs in his system not letting him speak normally. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he apologizes again for the hundredth time in the past few days. Jungkook drops beside you, removing your hands from your face as another sob racks through your body. Your eyes red and puffy as tears continue to cascade down.
Jungkook knows nothing about love, but there’s you. The highlight of his days, the only reason he even wants to wake up in the morning.
He hates how he drags you along with him—in every bad decision he makes. Jungkook’s life hasn’t been easy; an abusive household isn’t something anybody wants, but he’s one of the unlucky ones who got it. He knows he’s a legal adult and can move out, but his feet stay glued inside that house because of her, his mom.
God. Jungkook has seen everything fucked up in the piece of shit he calls his house. The blows his mom would take from the man whose blood Jungkook carries. He wasn’t a father to him, that’s for sure. Screams and fighting are the only things his house is filled with. He never heard a bedtime story or got a good night hug. The hug was replaced by a hit on the cheek, jaw, face—or anywhere his dad could get his hands on.
Jungkook blames his dad for the way he is, and every time he looks at you, he imagines the what ifs. Jungkook has done everything he could do to push you away, but instead of leaving, you stayed. It’s scared the shit out of him.
He’s in love with you. Jungkook has never felt anything more in his life than his love for you—it’s almost pathetic how much you make him feel. If your love were a drug, Jungkook would do it every day, every hour, and every minute instead of all the shit he put in his system to forget.
Your love is pure and innocent—everything that Jungkook isn’t. Every time he looks at you, he’s afraid he will break you. He wishes you could realize how unfixable he is and leave—but instead, you’re on your knees begging for him to be better.
How badly did he want to be better; so he could be with you.
“Stop saying sorry and stop doing it, fuck,” you sob, your fist holding onto his hoodie—your knuckles turning white from fear that if you let him go, he’ll vanish.
“You’re better than this. I know you are,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, wetting his hoodie with your tears. “Please stop, you could die.” you beg desperately, like a child would.
“Shh,” he comforts, his hand rubbing your back as you sob into him, “I’m sorry.”
As Jungkook walked, the guilt inside him consumed him more and more. The hurt expression on your face after he disrespected you remained etched in his mind, feeling like someone was poking his heart with a needle with each step he took.
Similarly, the weight of the small bag in the pocket of his sweater sent a sense of panic through his body. He hadn’t planned on taking it, but the moment it was placed in his hand, he couldn’t bring himself to give it back. Instead, he bit his tongue and shoved it into his pocket.
His heart sank as an image flashed in his mind of what your reaction would be if you ever found out. With a shake of his head, he buried the thought deep within him before reaching the main door of his house.
Jungkook’s hand trembles as he holds onto the doorknob. He had nowhere else to go, it was either yours or this. He felt his throat close up as his mind went back to you, his heart screaming for you. To turn around and run back to you—like always, his safe space. The only place where he could let his guard down.
The aching sensation in his chest reminded him of the first time he told you about his dad. You were both seventeen—laying on the carpet of your room, staring up at the ceiling. The broken expression on your face after he confided in you made him feel worse than any hit he had ever taken.
“Did you seriously get into another fight?” you groaned as you examined his face, the purple and blue marks beginning to form twisting your stomach in knots. “Who was it this time?” you frowned, your hand reaching out to touch his bruised cheek.
“Didn’t fight anyone. I actually hit myself with the car door,” the lie flowed smoothly out of his mouth.
“A door?” You raised an eyebrow, not fully believing him. Jungkook had a tendency to throw the first punch after someone lightly touched him—he had more suspensions and run ins with the police than anyone could count. Every time you saw him, there was another bruise decorating his skin, always brushed off like it was no big deal.
“Who was it?” You tried again, your face turning to him.
Jungkook's eyes remained locked with the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. “I can’t tell you,” he mumbled softly into the darkness.
“Why not? Is it a secret?” You quipped, scooting closer to his side—your finger tracing his features as he let out a deep breath. “It’s a really big secret,” he hushed, to which you only nodded eagerly.
“I can keep a secret,” you smiled, your heart beating fast in your chest as you noticed the proximity between you two. You raised a pinky into the air. “Pinky promise,” you bit your lip anxiously, watching him interlock his pinky with yours. “Okay, now tell me.”
“My dad,” he said, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“What?” You stuttered out, hoping you had heard him wrong.
“My dad, he's abusive,” he restated. The color drained from your face, and Jungkook saw it.
Sadness written all over your face. Words didn’t come out when you opened your mouth; instead, an ugly cry replaced the words.
“That’s why I can’t stand someone’s hands on me,” Jungkook says, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to escape the pain in his heart. It felt as if he was being kicked and thrown.
“Fuck.. I always touch you,” you bit your lip, trying to contain your sobs. “Your touch is the only touch that doesn’t repulse me, baby. So if you plan on not touching me, don’t,” Jungkook quickly interjected, grabbing your hand and intertwining it with his.
Jungkook loved your touch; your fingers on his skin felt like heaven. It almost confused him how much he looked forward to it—sometimes he found himself initiating it. You were the only exception with such privilege; anyone else who laid a finger on him sent a sense of nausea and shivers down his body.
“I didn’t know. I’m so fucking sorry, baby. Let me help you.. we can tell the police, he deserves to be in jail. Please,” you sobbed, placing your palm on his cheek.
“You think I don’t know he needs to go to jail? For all I know, he should be put on a electric chair,” Jungkook spat out, shoving your hand away from his face.
“And fuck. Yes, my mom knows. She fucking gets hit too,” he rambled, his chest heaving as he tried to look anywhere in your room that wasn’t you, and for the first time, you saw him break down.
As Jungkook crumbled down with a loud sob, his hands cover his face as his shoulders shake as he weeps, you wasted no time dropping to your knees and pulling him into you, whispering reassuring words in his ear.
"She doesn't leave," he cried. "I keep telling her he's going to kill her if she doesn't leave, but she stays." The cracks in his voice mirrored the cracks in your heart as you listened, feeling the weight of his pain, as the double meaning clicks in your head.
"And I can't leave. Who's going to protect her if I'm not there?" he sobbed quietly, his hands tightening around your waist. "I'm scared that if I leave for too long, I'll come back to a house with a dead body in it," he confessed, sending shivers down your spine.
"Baby," you cooed, tears streaming down your cheeks,
"we should tell the police. They'll help you. I promise."
But his response shattered your hopes.
"No," he croaked out, untangling himself from your embrace.
"Listen to me. If you even think about telling a policeman what I just told you, I swear to god yn, I will never fucking forgive you," Jungkook shook, his face contorted with pain and panic.
"I trust you enough to tell you, but I swear if you say anything about this to anyone, we're done. Whatever the fuck we have, it's done. I will never fucking forgive you."
Jungkook pushes the door open, and he’s met with silence. Without thinking twice, he rushes to his mom's room, slamming the door open to be met with her limp body on the bed.
His heart stops beating, and suddenly everything stops—his hand trembles as he makes his way to her. He nudges her once.
“Mom,” Jungkook calls, only to be met with silence.
“Mom,” he tries again. She stirs in her sleep.
“Jungkook?” She croaks, her voice hoarse as she peeks from her lying position. Jungkook's heart picks up again, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Mom, are you okay? What happened?” Jungkook asks, dropping beside her on the bed. His fingers move her dark hair off her face carefully, revealing a bruise on her cheek.
“He hit you again?” Jungkook lets out a growl, his fist tightening beside him.
“I made him mad. It’s not his fault,” she defends, almost automatically making Jungkook scoff. “Mom, that's not an excuse!” He grits his teeth.
“He isn’t a bad man, Jungkook. He's still your father,” she sighs, the look of tiredness clear on her face as she winces when she moves to her side. Jungkook watches dumbfounded.
“You know, you remind me of him,” she shakes out a laugh, the whole sentence feeling like a punch in the stomach for Jungkook. The more he tries to breathe, the more difficult it becomes. “He was just like you, you know? Every time I look at you—it’s like I’m seeing him. He is a good man underneath it all, Jungkook. You have to understand that I could never leave him. I’m in love with him,” she continues, and every word feels like a hit in the gut.
“W-what do you mean.. I’m just like him?” Jungkook stutters, his throat drying up and the familiar feeling of tears picking up in his eyes have him clawing his nails into his palms.
“Do you think when I met your dad, he treated me wrong?” She finally locks eyes with Jungkook. The light in her eyes she once had is now gone, replaced with dull, tired eyes. “He was gentle with me, he was sweet, caring, he was everything to me. He’s still everything to me,” a tear rolls down her cheek, making Jungkook suck in a breath.
“What about me?” Jungkook's voice cracks, the knot in his throat tightening as he watches his mom shake her head.
“Am I not everything to you, Mom?” Another tear falls, followed by more.
“It’s more complicated than you think, Jungkook,” she sighs. Jungkook feels his heart crack into a million pieces as he watches the woman who brought him into this life discard him.
“He’s going to kill you one day,” Jungkook speaks, wiping the tears from his eyes before clearing his voice. “He’s going to kill you, and you’re going to let it happen.”
“He wouldn’t do that to me,” she whispers into the silence.
“He wouldn’t?” A shocked laugh leaves Jungkook's lips as he can’t believe what he just heard. “He fucking wouldn’t? He fucking hits you? Aren’t you fucking scared that one day he throws the wrong punch?” Jungkook shouts, anger taking over.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” she snaps. “I’m your mother, and you don’t get to fucking talk to me like that.”
“Well, you’re a shitty mother. A good mother would put their child first. The only reason I’m still here is because of you!” Jungkook snaps back, his frustration growing stronger as he watches his mom stay motionless.
“I keep coming back because I’m scared he’ll kill you. But apparently, you don’t give a fuck,” he breathes out, his hand tugging on his hair—feeling almost manic at the lack of his mother's reaction.
“Every hit he took on me, you blamed it on me. When all I did was try to protect you. But you always choose him. So fucking next time he comes in through those doors and has his way with you, don’t come running or yelling my name to come and save you,” Jungkook spits out before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him with a loud bang.
Jungkook's mind kept racing, never shutting up for a moment, allowing him to think. His brain was filled with repetitions of everything his mom just said. The words "he was just like you, you know? Every time I look at you-it's like I'm seeing him" kept getting repeated in his head over and over again without a break.
Screams of his mom asking for him to save her echoed in his brain, the weight of his guilt and the haunting memories that plagued his mind had Jungkook pulling out the small baggie from his sweater, moving to the small desk in his room.
Jungkook dropped the white powder on the surface, making a line. Without hesitation, Jungkook leaned over, pinching one of his nostrils before snorting.
A sharp burning, stinging sensation spread through Jungkook's nose as he sniffed, rubbing off the remaining powder.
Jungkook dropped onto his bed in a star position as he stared at the ceiling, the feeling of numbness taking over his body. His muscles relaxed as the drug entered his bloodstream, sending a sense of euphoria—a warm feeling spread throughout his body, making him groan in pleasure.
And for once, the voices finally stopped.
It was embarrassing how you found yourself looking for the man you were in love with every corner of the campus. You started with the lockers and hallways, peeking through every classroom, hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the boy who left you standing in your angel costume Saturday night.
You had debated on running after him; the guilt that weighed you down from the slap was intense. Your touch was supposed to be his only gateway, instead, you used it against him to hurt him the same way his dad does. As messed up as his words were, it didn’t compare.
“Have you seen Jungkook?” You ask, poking Dahlia on the shoulder. She turns to look at you, mouth filled with food as she nods without saying anything.
“You have?” Your eyebrow raises as she continues to nod eagerly.
“Y-yeah, he’s ou-outside, in the corner,” Dahlia finally says, swallowing her food. You throw a small ‘thank you’ and rush outside.
As you run to the corner where everybody meets up to smoke, you curse out loud as you trip on the crack of the pavement before changing your pace to walking instead.
Your eyes meet his in an instant as you pass the corner, the lit-up joint hanging from his lips. You look around to see Taehyung and Jimin with worried looks on their faces. As you walk closer to them, Jungkook passes the joint to his friend before crossing his arms in front of him, flexing his muscles. If you weren’t so mad at him, you would find it hot.
“What’s up, pretty,” Taehyung says, trying to break the awkward silence as he takes a hit off the joint before passing it to Jimin, who looks uncomfortable as hell.
“Hey,” you acknowledge them both, giving polite head nods before turning your attention to the boy in the middle, his eyes bloodshot red with a small grin decorating his handsome face.
“What’s so funny?” You snap, crossing your arms in front of you. A loud laugh slips out of his mouth, shocking the boys beside him. “Hi baby,” he says, his eyes dropping low as he moves closer to you. You push him away with a hand on his chest, making him pout.
“Rude,” he playfully scoffs, leaning back onto the wall and reaching for the blunt on Taehyung’s fingers as he raises an eyebrow at you.
“That’s enough,” you say, taking away the joint from Taehyung’s hand as Jungkook was about to reach for it.
“This is our cue to leave. Let’s go,” Taehyung hurries off, pulling on his blonde friends arm, before they both mutter something under their breaths as they disappear around the corner.
“Don’t throw that, it’s some good shit, and I just bought it,” Jungkook chuckles, reaching for it only for you to push him away.
“Alright then,” you pull the rolled-up paper up to your lips and take a drag. Jungkook's face drops, and suddenly nothing is funny. His hand immediately shoots up and yanks the joint out of your mouth before throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jungkook roars, watching you cough loudly as white smoke rushes out of your mouth.
“Fuck, what were you thinking?” He panics, rubbing a hand over your back to coax your coughing fit. Your throat and chest burn as you continue to cough.
“Don’t ever do that shit again, do you hear me? It’s not good for you,” Jungkook sighs, his rough hand drawing circles down your back as you finally calm down.
“So, you agree it’s not good for you?” You say, your voice hoarse from all the coughing. “Let’s not do this right now, yn,” he pulls on your arm as he walks you to the parking lot. “You never want to do anything,” you yank your arm from his grip. Jungkook takes a deep breath, trying his best not to snap at you.
“Just get in the car, baby,” he continues, opening the passenger door for you. Instead, you push him off and slam the door shut.
“You’re high as fuck; you can’t drive, asshole,” you snap, throwing your arms in the air in anger. “And you’re not?” he clenches his teeth. “I took one hit,” you shove a finger in his face.
“Yeah, a big-ass one. Before you know it, you’ll be high, so get in the fucking car or I’ll put you in it myself,” he snaps. “You wouldn’t dare,” you spit out, and before you know it, your ass is in the air as he hauls you over his shoulder.
“I wouldn’t?” Jungkook mutters under his breath as he opens the car door and sits you down on the seat, reaching for the seatbelt and strapping you in. “Where are you taking me?” You roll your eyes as he sits down beside you.
“To your fucking house,” he says, pulling out of the parking lot of the school and driving you home.
The whole car ride is filled with silence; neither of you decides to utter a word. The moment the car stops in front of your house, you hurriedly unbuckle your seatbelt and open your door before sprinting to your door, unlocking it, and disappearing inside. Jungkook almost screams into his hands, wanting to throw a whole tantrum in this car, but he decides otherwise.
With a loud sigh, he turns off the car, turns to the back seat, gets his sweater, and jumps out of the car. He takes the same route he always did when he showed up at your house, climbing himself over the picket fence before climbing the tree next to your window.
The window is opened as you sit on the ground of your room, your knees up to your chest. Jungkook throws his sweater in first before jumping in.
Then his heart dropped, your small hands hold the tiny bag that was in the pocket of his sweater that had fallen out.
“What’s this, Jungkook?” You voice out, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the wavering of your voice as you finally look up at him. His heart might just have been stabbed by your shocked expression, the betrayal and the pain etched in your expressions send a shooting pain in his heart.
“Baby-“
“Don’t fucking baby me! What the fuck is this?” You interrupt him, your hand shaking as you think of every possible drug that could be in the bag. Jungkook didn’t reply; the words suddenly died in his mouth.
“Is this a way of pushing me away?” You ask, tears starting to flow down your cheeks, mixing with your anger and heartbreak.
“Did something happen at home again? Why? Fuck, why?” You cry, a soul-crushing sob that comes out of you, which has Jungkook coming back to his senses. He feels like shit, and that word doesn’t even cover half of what he’s feeling.
“Please tell me why? I’ll do anything. Let me help you, just fucking stop doing this shit, baby.” You cry, pulling his body to yours, wrapping your arms around his waist, crying into his uniform.
“Use me, scream at me, tell me horrible shit if that helps. Just don’t ever touch any drugs, Jungkook. I don’t know what I would do if you died.” You whisper the last words as you sob into his arms, begging for him to stop. “I’m never leaving your side, so get that into your head. If this is your way of pushing me away, it won’t work.” You sob.
And that’s where everything clicks for Jungkook. His mind thinks back to his mom, “You have to understand that I could never leave him. I’m in love with him,” and his heart drops to the ground. All the walls he took so long to build collapse. He was just like his dad—Jungkook wanted to say he wasn’t, but here he was, hurting you, making you sob into his arms, begging for him to change. The same thing his mom does anytime his father would get drunk.
“I’m not good for you,” Jungkook finally speaks, his hands cupping your face. “I’m not good for you.” He repeats, and you shake your head disapprovingly repeatedly. “Stop.” You cry, your tears wetting Jungkook's palms as he repeats the same thing over again.
“You deserve someone so much fucking better, baby,” Jungkook whispers, dropping his forehead to yours. “You deserve so much better than me. I can’t give you anything, baby, besides heartache and pain.” He continues as you repeat ‘no’ over and over again under your breath.
“Please don’t leave me,” you cry, as he untangles himself from you, pushing your hand away gently when you try to reach for him.
“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t leave. Stay the night; we’ll talk about this in the morning.” That was the last thing Jungkook heard as he jumped out of the window and ran to his car, leaving his heart in the hands of the girl crying on the floor, praying for him to be safe.
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook#bts jungkook#bts fanfic#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jjk#bangtan#fluff#jungkook drabble#jungkook angst#jungkook imagine#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#jeongguk x reader#jeongguk fic#jeongguk smut#jeongguk#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk smut#jeon jungguk#bts fanfction#bts masterlist#bts fluff#bts x reader#bts smut#bts angst#bangtan fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
“don’t tell me your going all shy on me now, not when you’re so close. you want daddy’s cock, don’t you? why should daddy give you his cock if you can’t follow one simple instruction?”
the way i immediately clenched my thighs together. lys what have you done. mix of praise n degradation you say? daddy kink? age gap? overstim? CORRUPTION? oh my GOD. going feral over this. blushing immensely. need him so bad. need him to put me in my place. need his 798 inch blue popsicle to rearrange my guts –
𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆
Pairing: Dilf!Jake Sully x Fem!Omatikaya Reader Warnings: explicit smut, thigh riding, age gap, daddy kink, overstimulation, dacryphilia, corruption, power imbalance, a nice little mix of praise and degradation, porn with not a single hint of plot. Word Count: 1.2k a/n: this is probably a surprise to everyone including me who didn't intend to write it until @andraga12 and @jakexneytiri got me riled up about dilf Jake. Inspired by nasty - russ (blame andra) and oxytocin - billie eilish, I'd recommend listening to either or both while reading. So in honour of fathers day, here's some thigh riding with dilf!jake.
Half moons indent the skin of his back where your fingers grasp to steady yourself, and if it pains him he doesn’t show it. His face is unchanged since the first orgasm he’d forced you to ride out and his refusal to help you in your endeavour still standing as you neared your fourth.
His heavy lidded gaze had barely strayed from your face since the moment he’d dragged you down onto his thigh, his five fingered hand catching your jaw when you’d tried to look away, commanding that your eyes didn’t leave his. And who were you to refuse? You were a warrior in your own right, but he was your Olo’eyktan, the man who’d led your father in battle against the Sky People.
“Come here, baby.” When the foreign word had left his tongue, you’d repeated it softly, baby, brow furrowing as you tried to place its meaning, but nevertheless you had done as you were told. Obedient as you always were, you’d crossed the Marui with no idea what the next hour would hold for you.
“Jake– I can’t.” Your slick coating his thigh made the slide easy, but the ache of your swollen bud and the burn that had started in your thighs had now reached your hips. Your hips don’t stop their circling, even as you complain because despite it all, despite the shame that showed in the blush that coated your cheeks and neck, you wanted what he had promised. “Please Jake, I-I just want–”
“Jake?” He tilts his head, a smile crossing his lips that you can’t help but return, even as he tenses his thigh underneath you, a gasp replacing your attempt to correct your mistake and call him by the name he’d asked, that you aren’t even sure you remember anymore.
“D-Daddy? Please.”
“What else could you want, baby? Daddy’s being so good to you, letting you use his thigh like this.” He shakes his head, his thumb catching a tear before it could reach the corner of your lips. “And you look so pretty doing it, it feels good doesn’t it?” You whimper as his fingers dig into your hips, the first aid he’s given you. “You’re doing such a good job, just one more, baby.”
You nod in assent. You could do one more, but he'd said that before the last, and the one before that. He’d stood firm each time, no matter how much you begged and cried for him to give you his cock, never relenting as he leant back on his arms, watching you writhe over him with a look you would usually only associate with hunger.
Finding new pressure in the way he urges your hips back and forth along the length of his thigh, his leg bouncing to meet the pace he set. You clench around nothing, heartbeat throbbing at your aching clit. It’s not enough and you can’t hold on for much longer. He tuts as your head falls into his neck, tears soaking his skin as you fall into the embrace.
His movements stop and you feel your high ripped away and any attempt to chase it hindered by his bruising grip on your hips stilling your frantic attempts to roll your hips.
“What did daddy tell you, huh?” His voice is so low, you feel it vibrate against your chest. “Told’ya you needed to look him in the eyes, didn’t he?” You nod against his neck, sniffling against his skin, not quite ready to leave the comfort it provided. “Don’t tell me your going all shy on me now, not when you’re so close. You want daddy’s cock, don’t you? Why should daddy give you his cock if you can’t follow one simple instruction?”
“N-No.” Your voice comes out much less sure than you intended as you exit your hiding place. “I can, m’sorry daddy. please.” Your voice breaks through the sobs that wrack your form as you tighten your thighs around his, doing anything you can do to chase the pressure your clit craves.
It’s not enough, his hands releasing their grasp on your hips to hook under your thighs. Time slows, heat rushing your veins as his fingertips inch close enough that your core throbs, hips stuttering forward in anticipation of his touch which never arrives as he pulls your legs apart, denying you any friction. You meet his eyes, blood rushing to your head at the intensity of his gaze.
He seems happy with this, as you flush under his attention and release his hold, your body shuddering at the loss of sensation even as it’s replaced with hard muscle.
“Baby, you’ve been doing so well for me. Lookin’ so beautiful dripping all over my thigh.” His tail wraps around your waist, pulling you in closer as he reaches to push back a strand of hair that had become stuck to your face by sweat and tears. “Daddy loves watching you, sweet thing. You were so close weren’t you?” You nod, tears falling freely, heavy as they land on his chest. “Go ahead baby girl, let me hear you.”
Your heart races as you nod, rolling your hips as fast as your aching muscles allow. He catches your face in his hand, his thumb running along your lower lip, coaxing your mouth open to let your sweet moans free. “That’s it baby, come on you can do it.” You gasp as he tenses his thigh beneath you, his tail rocking you along as you run your cunt along his leg, your slick dripping onto the ground beneath you. “It feels so good doesn’t it?”
“Y-Yes daddy, feels–” Your breath catches, a whimper replacing any words, your mind struggling to gather a single thought as the tension builds in your stomach. Breath unsteady as you near your release.
He laughs, it sounds warm but his eyes are glazed with lust as he watches your mouth open and close in search of the words you want to tell him. “It’s that good, huh? Too fucked out and you haven’t even had daddy’s cock yet. Baby, if this is too much for you, I don’t know if you can handle it.”
You open your mouth to tell him that you can, you can and you will because he promised and you’d been so good. But the coil snaps, thighs convulsing as your release rushes over you, drenching both of your thighs. His eyes never leave your face as you come undone, cries filling the Marui with no regard for who might hear until your throat has little more left to give.
Body spent, you fall forward, tears streaked face pressing into his neck, surprised when he doesn’t admonish you and instead pulls you further into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling you into his embrace.
“Baby, you did so good. Listened to daddy so well.” He pressed a soft kiss against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Your eyelids are heavy, it’s so warm, so safe in his arms it would be so easy to allow sleep to take you. “My patient girl, you deserve a reward.”
taglist: @pandoraslxna,@teyamsbitch,@iwantjaketosullyme,@thehoneymushroomhealer,@neteyamyawne,@amalaaaa11,@athenalikethegoddess
#nearly all my kinks in ONE fic#never gonna sexually recover from this am i#new bedtime story fr#𝐥𝐲𝐬 ᵕ̈#✶ – 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬
701 notes
·
View notes
Text
work song
pairing: luke castellan x fem!nike!reader
genre: angsty, some fluff, & comfort
word count: 1.3k+
warning(s): mentions of violence, mentions of nightmares, mention of reader death in dreams, luke being sleep deprived, & kronos talking to luke
note: happy new year! here’s my new year gift for y’all <3 idk what’s up with me & always writing nike!reader fr. not set in the “the sun & it’s shadow” universe! but there are alludes to nike!reader. please ignore the many inaccuracies in this 🙏 not proofread!
Luke Castellan didn’t like going to bed.
Going to bed meant falling asleep and falling asleep meant he’d dream and dreaming meant he’d be met with images of death, revenge, destruction, and hope. He often saw the destruction of Camp Half-Blood the minute his head hit the pillow. Of Mount Olympus and the Gods. But, mostly of you.
Luke would hold your limp and cold body in his arms as he cried for you, jerking awake with gasps and tears. An aching feeling settling in his chest as he clawed at his rapidly beating heart, trying to calm himself down, gripping the sheets beneath him as he caught his breath. Nights like these always ended up with him dragging himself to cabin seventeen, crawling into your bed as you soundly slept, arms instinctively wrapping around the body of your beloved as if you knew he needed the comfort.
Those kinds of nightmares shook the Castellan boy to his core. He didn’t know why he dreamt of those kinds of things. Causing any kind of pain to you was something he’d never dream of doing, but yet his dreams were often full of it. You dying by his hand, blood staining his hands crimson.
Sleep didn’t come easy when he was alone. Haunted by the future images of destruction and loss. It was a never ending cycle that Luke Castellan could not escape. His only freedom from it was in your arms, which is a place where he found himself tonight.
Luke currently found himself sprawled across your nearly made bed, all four corners tucked tightly into the bedframe and stuffed animals piled onto the end of your bed. His calloused fingers lightly drummed against the soft material of your bed spread. He was always impatient when it came to waiting for you to return from your nightly gossip sessions in the Aphrodite cabin.
The familiar sound of cabin seventeens buzz began to quiet down as the night got later and everyone got settled for bed. Luke was the only one awake by the time every Nike child fell into a deep slumber, tossing a small stuffed teddy between his hands as he continued to wait, desperately trying to silence his racing thoughts.
It was always the same every night—lay awake, stare into the dark corner of the Hermes cabin, strain his ears for any strange sounds until he heard his voice, and try not to go mad.
He succeeded most nights. But on the nights where Luke’s strength and sanity wore thin, he crawled into the very space he’s occupying at the moment.
Luke.
The teddy bear fell limp against the boys chest as he halted his movements in tossing it.
Luke, I know you can hear me.
Eyes squeezed shut and muttering the same comforting story his Mother used to whisper to him as a child before slumber took him into their embrace.
You can fight it all you want, Luke. But we both know you’re already mine. You can’t stop fate.
The Hermes boy continued to mutter the bedtime story to himself, losing count of how many times he had to repeat it. His throat began to hurt.
It’s fate. All of it is fate. You’ll join me. She’ll die. The Gods will submit to our orders and grant you whatever you desire, Luke.
Luke’s eyes were closed so tightly that the rushing of blood in his ears began to hurt his head, tears spilling out from the corners and ran down the sides of his face.
No matter how hard you try, you’re not strong enough to save her.
“Shut. Up.” Luke whispered, hands going up to his hair, tugging the strands in frustration.
I thought you wanted this, Luke? Wanted the Gods to pay for their negligence and cruelty? To see them bow at your feet, begging for mercy?
“No,” he muttered. It’s not worth it if she dies. None of it is. He thought to himself.
Luke Castellan knew that the visions Kronos showed him in his sleep were exaggerations of what could happen. So when he started to see your death by his hands, he began to reconsider reaching out to Kronos and exact revenge on the Gods. He couldn’t live without you, as dramatic as it sounded. It was true.
The dark haired boy knew that the old Titan was going to answer, but the creaking of the cabin floors and the sound of your familiar pitter-patter is what broke the connection.
Luke bolted up, the stuffed teddy falling to the floor.
“Oh my Gods, Luke! You scared me. Why aren’t you in bed?” You whispered, hand over your chest as your heart rapidly beat against it from the unexpected fright.
Your boyfriend didn’t answer you. He instead stood up from your ruffled bedspread and gathered you into his arms, face digging into your neck as he held you tightly to his frame.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You gently asked, hands wrapping around his shoulders as your hands wandered to his dark curls.
Luke’s silence is all you needed as you hummed out an acknowledgment, fingers gently rubbing circles into his scalp. He had told you of his particular struggles after he had battled back and forth with himself for days about the wrongness of it all. You were shocked he would ever do such a thing, but you understood. You understood what he was trying to achieve, begging him to not go through with it. Being intertwined with a Titan like Kronos could not garner positive results. Luke agreed to not go further, but Kronos still lingered and until the two of you could find a way to break that connection, he would continue to whisper horrendous things into Luke’s ear.
“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?” You asked, softly pulling him away from your neck so you could get a good look at him.
He had dark circles under his eyes. His dark locks were tangled and wild. His cheeks looked sunken in a bit, a sign that he wasn’t eating or sleeping properly.
A frown etched itself onto your face, thumbs traveling to his cheeks to gently caress them. He leaned into your touch, Luke’s eyes bore into your own as the two of you stood there in complete silence and darkness.
“It’ll all be alright, okay? We’ll figure it out. We always do, Luke” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your boyfriends chin, narrowly missing his bottom lip.
Luke only meekly nodded, allowing you to guide the both of you to your bed, swiftly tugging at the tightly tucked sheets. Once the soft sheets were untucked, you crawled in first, laying yourself back first as you opened your arms for Luke to nestle himself in. And that he did.
You wrapped your arms around Luke as he brought the covers up to both of your chins, face tucked into your neck once again. He melted into your frame, body relaxing as the only thing he could hear was your heartbeat against his ear.
No words were further exchanged between the two of you. The only sound of crickets and the howling wind echoing throughout the cabin. You knew that this would be a topic for tomorrow and that the only thing that mattered in the moment was Luke getting some deserved sleep. You couldn’t fathom the kind of struggle he went through everyday and you only hoped that your presence at least eased it in some way.
Luke knew that this had to come to an end. He was tired of feeling this way and not getting a reprieve from the Titan. He needed to protect you from the influence of Kronos. No matter what it took.
Sleep finally consumed the both of you after minutes passed. You dreamt of archery and training with your siblings while Luke dreamt only of darkness and guilt.
#drysdalesworld#drysdalesworld works!#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson and the last olympian#pjo x reader#percy jackson#pjo#luke castellan x nike!reader#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#luke castellan x fem!reader#luke castellan imagine#percy jackson imagine#nike!reader#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo fic#percy jackson and the olympians x reader#perseus jackson
143 notes
·
View notes
Text
More Of My Random Bad Batch Headcanons (Modern AU)
Echo is the absolute KING of finding good shit for good prices on eBay, Facebook Marketplace, or Poshmark. He’s found Omega American Girl dolls in basically new condition for super cheap.
Batcher sleeps in Crosshair’s bed with him.
Hunter decided to let them keep Batcher because he realized he hadn’t seen Crosshair smile like he does when she’s around in a very long time.
Crosshair has some degree of anxiety and is an intense perfectionist.
On that note, he has an extremely nervous stomach. He’s just like me fr
Omega likes to bake and usually does so with Echo and Wrecker not only to bond with them but because they’re both good at it and eager to teach her.
Wrecker cries at movies.
Crosshair also cries at movies but pretends he doesn’t.
Echo has an INSANE network of mom friends. His siblings don’t know the full extent of his network, but what they do know is they can’t go anywhere without bumping into at least one mom who knows Echo.
Crosshair and Tech live in constant fear of Echo dragging them along with him to run errands for this reason. They don’t want to socialize with Sharon for three hours in the sensory hell that is a crowded suburban Target on a Saturday they just want to grab their Oreos and go home.
Hunter has a tendency to baby Crosshair if he isn’t feeling well.
Crosshair pretends to hate it but secretly he loves it because it makes him feel loved and cared for.
Omega seeks out all five of her brothers for bedtime stories depending on what she’s feeling that day. She feels like they are all good storytellers in their own ways but for different types of stories.
Their front lawn is the envy of every dad in the neighborhood courtesy of Hunter.
Speaking of Hunter, all the single moms and college-aged daughters home from school in the neighborhood “just so happen” to be in the area when he’s doing work on the lawn. Especially if it’s in the middle of summer so he’s all glistening… (I’m going to stop right here before it turns into a romance novel scene).
Omega hates this and finds it cringe.
Wrecker and Crosshair go more crazy over Echo buying Capri Suns than Omega does.
Crosshair collects shot glasses from wherever they travel to. Wrecker collects snow globes.
All the neighborhood dads go CRAZY (and also get lowkey jealous) when Wrecker shows up to the neighborhood cookout because he is an absolute MASTER on the grill. He’s telling them about all the meats he’s smoked and they’re SHAKING with excitement.
Their elderly neighbors who knew 99 and remembers when they were kids still refer to Echo and the original members of the Batch as “99’s boys”. They lowkey still view them as kids/teenage boys so will give them candy on Halloween even though they’re grown-ass men.
Their house is always very decorated for holidays since at least one of them is very intense about a specific holiday (Crosshair takes Halloween very seriously but pretends he’s just doing it for Omega).
#I just have a lot of thoughts and headcanons around them#they remind me of my family so much it’s crazy#the bad batch#star wars tbb#tbb crosshair#arc trooper echo#tbb echo#tbb hunter#star wars the bad batch#tbb tech#tbb wrecker#tbb thoughts#tbb omega#tbb headcanons#bad batch headcanon#bad batch headcanons
109 notes
·
View notes
Note
that picture is d word matty on a errand run for girlie and baba cause lyla is sick😭
omg omg omg she literally only has a tiny cold, very common, and matty's acting like she's got the bubonic fucking plague lol - he is rivalling the blonde woman in carbon emissions with the amount of driving the baby to the gp he's doing (god bless them they're so patient with him lol), watching the baby like a HAWK constantly, crying every time she sneezes even though it's lowkey the cutest sound in the world... yeah, protective dad fr. she's perked up a bit by like day 5 or so, and that's when you put your foot down and send matty out to the shop like "ah! you need to chill out a little bit, darling. she's alright, i promise - she's feeding well, she's doing her business alright, she'll be absolutely fine, i know it. and you're so amazing with her, so so amazing, but you need a break, my love. let me, yeah? i've got our girl. go, get some fresh air, maybe something for our dinner, and i KNOW our lovely girl wouldn't be opposed to some sort of treat from daddy either". he gets the picture, and wanders down to tesco express after a cuddle with his girls, picking up ingredients for chilli and some flowers for you before popping into a local bookshop to buy the baby a new bedtime story; she's napping when he gets home (so are you lowkey lol), but the way she beams and reaches for him when she wakes up is a definite sign she's feeling better, as is the way she almost refuses to fall asleep at bedtime until she hears you read a story. her father's daughter, i fear lol. but yeah, very lovely <3
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hey y’all guess what?!? :) it’s time for a new episode of Bedtime Stories With PCE!!!
Who ordered some old man yaoi? That’s right, this one is set right after If Heaven And Hell Decide, with a sick Kyle, worried Stan, the best little immortal cat of all time, adding injury to illness, two middle aged men being massive fantasy dorks, all that goodness. Very sorry to my favorite arthritic ginger it will happen again, very sorry to his extremely concerned husband.
And y’all. I’m dedicating this to the Sickfic Queen herself, @alwaysinstyle who consistently kicks ass and gets stoked about style taking care of each other with me. Ana I love you so much and I’m so proud of you. All the people in your corner, we have you covered.
Also OFC the rest of the RANT homies have been subjected to random snippets of this over the past 2 weeks or so (jesus my sadsack ass needs to get some motivation back how has it been two weeks) but hey I will always be obnoxious when the mood strikes me and this long ass monstrosity is FINALLY done!!! Thank y’all fr for putting up with me.
Here’s •Well, That Would Be Pretty Odd•
A subtle knock at the door drew Stan’s attention and Kyle from uneasy rest. His husband’s head lolled exhaustively in his hand, still drained of energy and, according to the screen displaying his vitals, running a pretty high fever. Stan kept one arm protectively over him and turned to the door. “Yeah?”
The doctor entered, shutting the door behind her. “Hey, guys, how are we doing in here?”
Kyle pulled up slowly, clearly emotional, like he always got when he was sick. “Can I go home yet? Moose needs me.”
“Our cat,” Stan explained. “He’s worried he scared our cat.”
“I did.”
“Scared the hell out of your husband, too, sick as you are. It says on the chart you guys filled out that your blood sugar was low enough to potentially trigger a seizure. If he hadn’t acted as fast as he did, you’d be even worse off than you are.”
Kyle slumped back into Stan. “He always rescues me,” he murmured.
Stan felt like crying. “I’m your knight when you need me, dude.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, what’re we working with here? Stomach flu, dehydration, complications because of the diabetes, all that, right?”
“Right. Kyle, we have you on antivirals and fluids via IV for now, and I know you’re eager to get home-“
“-he hates hospitals-“
“-I hate hospitals.”
The doctor smiled kindly, even after getting interrupted. Stan liked her. “We’re keeping you overnight at least, but if your vitals are still stable and your fever is less than 102, we can send you home.”
Stan knew Kyle appreciated being the one addressed about his own health. This doctor could read the room, that’s for sure. Kyle nodded tiredly, eyes closed.
“How about when we go home? What’s the plan?” Stan inquired, tired as fuck himself but making an exception for Ky, always.
“Fluids, rest, anything with nutritional value that can stay down. Your friend in the waiting room mentioned orange juice as you guys’ go-to when Kyle’s having trouble with blood sugar? And he said you’re always diligent about keeping an eye on his health.” She was definitely addressing Stan now, since Kyle had clearly relinquished responsibility for the time being, knowing Stan had him covered. Hell yeah he did. “Any further complications; if you catch the bug too and can’t take care of him, another bad sugar drop or fever spike, and you guys come right back here. But at this point, it’s looking like this is something manageable from home, fingers crossed.”
And Stan had every finger crossed. He’d take care of Kyle, just like Kyle took care of him. Even if he was kind of scared as fuck, not having seen him quite this sick since maybe college. Or even when they were kids and he needed kidney surgery. He bit the panic down. Kyle was okay.
“Gotcha. I can spend the night? Spousal rights and everything?”
“You won’t convince him not to stay if you say no,” was Kyle’s muffled reply.
The doctor laughed. “I won’t make you leave. The last thing I want is either of you worked up, especially you, Kyle. If you need your husband with you to be comfortable-“
“-mhm-“
“-that’s not a problem in my book.” She tapped her clipboard with long fingernails. “There’s a call button on the bed if you need anything between the nurses checks, and I’ll tell your friend he’s free to go. He isn’t allowed back here, I’m afraid, but I can also let him know he can be the one to pick you up in the morning, if that’s what you two want?”
Kyle mumbled something that sounded like “like a good neighbor, Tucker is there” to the tune of the state farm insurance jingle. The doctor raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, he’s pretty delirious, alright.” A couple quick checks to Kyle’s IV line and heartbeat monitor, and she was gesturing for Stan to lay his half asleep husband back down. “You boys get some rest. We’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks,” Stan whispered, letting Kyle nuzzle into his chest as she left the room. Once they were alone in the darkened space, he kissed him softly on the top of the head. Kyle was a space heater. But if the hospital staff wasn’t alarmed, they were okay. “I’ve got you, baby, just sleep.”
The next morning, Kyle improved enough to leave and discharge paperwork done, they faced the problem of actually getting the sick man home.
Stan waved off the nurse’s offered wheelchair and stubbornly picked Kyle up because like hell was he losing even a second of contact. That and he took pride in the fact that he was in his 40s and still able to carry his husband.
“Sir, there’s procedure…”
Kyle snorted from where his head was against Stan’s shoulder, coherent enough to be aware but still too weak to insist on, god forbid, trying to walk on his own. “Believe me, ma’am, there’s no way in hell you’re convincing this guy not to carry me. Losing battle, mark my worms- words.”
Someone needed to be home in bed.
The nurse sighed, clearly deciding it wasn’t worth argument. Thank God, because Kyle could out argue anyone normally, but he was fucking tired.
“Just sing me home again, Orpheus,” he murmured into his husband’s ear.
Stan laughed at the reference. “Alright, ma’am, so if we’re all set….”
“Yes, yes, you can go. Hope you feel better.”
Kyle only had a vague recollection of both Stan and Craig yelling at the hospital staff when they brought him in, which was kind of funny to think about. Craig didn’t get worked up about things easily, and Stan was as gentle as they came. But it was nice to know his friend and his partner were willing to act so out of character for his sake. He muttered a “hey, spaceman” in greeting when Stan lowered him into the back of Craig’s car, mid morning sun forcing him to keep his eyes closed.
Craig barked a short laugh, pulling from the parking lot when both his passengers were settled for the short drive. “Someone’s feeling better.”
“I’ll get him set to rights, kick the plague’s ass,” Stan said, softly kissing his husband’s still too warm forehead. “Thanks for picking us up, dude. And for last night.”
“No biggie,” Craig shrugged nonchalantly. “Someone had to keep a level head and it sure as hell wasn’t gonna be either of you.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong there. Craig was probably the least prone to getting over emotional person Stan had ever met.
Craig’s husband, however, was the exact opposite. Upon getting home and getting up to bed, Kyle could faintly hear the frantic voice of Tweek downstairs, bringing Moose back from spending the night over at apartment two.
Kyle was nauseous, not to the point that he had been, but nauseous all the same, waiting for Stan to be done retrieving their cat and filling Kyle’s water. He felt weak as shit, and sweaty, which was probably a reasonably good indicator of his fever coming down, but it fucking sucked. And he was going to need some soup or something in him soon so his blood sugar didn’t get so bad again, which was another thing that sucked, because why do flesh prisons require so much maintenance? Why did his body require so much to function.
He didn’t realize tears were flowing until Stan entered the bedroom, hands full with the water, a KMBS, and one of those bottled protein drinks that tasted like chalk. Moose was quick to jump up and pad softly over to him, big blue eyes so worried and sweet as he curled up beside him. Kyle’s two blue eyed boys.
The second of whom was setting the drinks on the bedside table. There was a straw in each, so Kyle wouldn’t have to move as much to drink. It made him cry harder.
“Shhh, dude, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Stan climbed onto his side and grabbed the juice, holding it to Kyle’s lips. “I know you don’t feel good, that’s okay. I’ve got you. Go slow, okay?”
Kyle complied, the sharp taste of salted orange juice helping both physically and mentally. Plus, it’s hard to drink something and cry at the same time, so his breathing was a little less sporadic. A few sips were all he managed before his stomach started rolling, and he shook his head. Stan understood, setting the cup down and pulling Kyle’s face into his chest. “Just sleep, baby. I’m gonna have to check your temperature and levels in about an hour, but just sleep until then, alright?”
“Mhm.”
Stan would take care of him. Kyle would put up a fight, when he had the strength to, but Stan knew from experience that he’d be ‘secretly’ loving being cared for.
The husbands had a couple favorite positions to hold each other in. They’d hold the other from behind, arms wrapped around and poised to kiss an exposed nape or shoulder as a reminder of their presence. They would entangle themselves like they were doing now, they’d let the other’s head rest on their legs, Kyle would perch himself in Stans lap or Stan would drape over him like a blanket. Holding each other was safe. And in this moment Stan wrapped protectively around his sick partner like it was his sacred duty, one hand cradling Kyle’s head from underneath, fingers gently rubbing his hair, the other arm tucking him firmly against himself, feeling Moose’s purrs vibrating where the cat had claimed his place against Kyle’s back, right below the place Stan’s arm was wrapped around.
Stan glanced at the nightstand clock, keeping watch for the next time they’d need to wake up for a check in. About an hour and he’d get the thermometer to make sure they were still headed in the right direction, check Kyle’s levels, make them both something for, well, he supposed lunch at this point, and call the clinic to let his coworkers know that he’d be out a few days for a family emergency. He’d have to let Kyle’s work know too, before his husband tried to go into school still unwell.
Fitfully, Kyle dozed, sweating in his sleep, which Stan knew damn well he’d complain about when he woke up, but personally, he didn’t mind holding a miniature sun, because it was Kyle. Overheated, but still Kyle.
It hadn’t quite been an hour, but the warmth was starting to concern him. He gently kissed the top of his husband’s head, encouraging him to stir.
“Dude, hey.”
Kyle let out a tired whine as indication that he was awake.
“I know, baby. I just need to check your temperature and then you can go back to sleep.”
“I can check my own damn temperature,” Kyle protested, rolling over onto his back when Stan relinquished his grasp around his beloved. He scowled. “I’m all sweaty.”
Stan chuckled lowly. Was he right or was he right. “Gimme a second.”
Upon getting the thermometer and finding that they were still going in the right direction, Stan relaxed slightly. He let Kyle check both his temperature and blood sugar by himself, because it wasn’t worth the impending argument and the last thing he wanted was to make his husband feel helpless. Fever was down, but he definitely needed something to eat soon.
“Dude, do you think you can handle something solid, or you wanna keep sticking with drinks?”
Kyle hadn’t puked in a while, so he felt like maybe something simple, easy on the stomach, would be okay. As much as he wanted to keep going with the safe option of juice and a protein shake, he wouldn’t get better without something substantial in him and he knew it. “I can try. No promises.”
“You don’t need to promise anything,” Stan insisted, leaning down to kiss him on the way out of bed. “But I have an idea, if you’re okay by yourself for a few minutes.”
“Moose is with me. I’m not by myself,” Kyle remarked with a sleepy smile.
Stan snorted and went to change into jeans, last night’s pajamas not exactly ideal attire for walking to the BBQ place a block over. Kyle was weird about food sometimes, but Brendan’s mac and cheese was a simple, safe, Kyle approved bet. He’d probably want it to get cold first like he usually did (weirdo), but sick Kyle was sort of a wild card. They’d see.
“I’ll be back in fifteen, dude, drink some water.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
Kyle heard the door close downstairs, slowly reaching for his water at the bedside, one hand resting on their cat’s head. Moose was stretched out along his side, fluffy tail dangling off the side of the mattress.
“You sleepy too, young nastyman?” Kyle asked, setting the bottle down and closing his eyes. Moose purred in response.
Apparently he’d drifted off again, waking up to the rustle of a takeout bag and a strong, smoky smell.
Kyle clapped a hand over his mouth. Ordinarily the smell of brisket and ribs wouldn’t bother him, but in his half asleep state, smelling meat on Stan of all people…
“…Dude?”
“FUCKING CHANGE!” Kyle screeched, staggering up to run to the bathroom, tears in his eyes because the bbq place smell all over his vegetarian husband was wrong and disorienting and he hated being sick and fevers made him sensitive and an asshole and-
Falling hard in front of the toilet, he felt his knee go out. The cherry on top of the fucking cake while his stomach tried to escape his body. Kyle cried out in pain, which was cut off immediately by a wave of sick splashing into the porcelain while he attempted to move and take the weight off his left leg, shaking and already crying because he was pissed and it hurt and he couldn’t catch a damn break. Dry heaving and spluttering, he collapsed tiredly into the alcove between the toilet and the cabinets, one trembling arm draped over the seat and the other hand clutching his knee, eyes shut tightly against the light and the nausea and pain.
“Ky, hey, hey, oh, fuck, baby, shit, did you twist your knee? Okay, you’re okay, hold on-“
Kyle leaned over to retch again, choking out “YOU SMELL WRONG” because that’s all he could manage between gasps.
Stan yanked his shirt off and threw it through the open door into the hallway, past where Moose was watching with wide eyes from the threshold. “Okay, I’m sorry, is that better? Here.” He gently eased Kyle’s hand away from his leg, carefully straightening it out. “God, yeah, it’s already swelling.”
“WHY do I have to LIVE IN THIS GODDAMN FLESH PRISON?!?” Kyle slammed his fist against the floor, frustrated beyond belief. Stan caught his hand before he could do it again.
“Shh, Ky, c’mon. You’re okay, it’s fine.”
Seeing his husband like this, sick, aggravating his bad knee mid vomit, broke Stan’s heart. But he had him. He had him and wouldn’t let go. Was that dramatic? Absolutely. But when the fuck was he not dramatic about Kyle’s health?
“THAT FUCKING STUPID ASS NURSE!” Kyle was yelling. “Sending me sick kids, thinking they were just trying to get out of class, that BITCH!”
“Baby, dude, calm down, man, breathe.”
“YOU’RE ONE TO FUCKING TALK!”
Alright, point to Kyle. Stan sighed as Kyle heaved over the toilet again, expelling nothing but water. They really needed to get something in him before he wound up needing the hospital again. Stan gently rubbed his husband’s back as he hiccuped and cried, clearly feeling betrayed by his body. A few minutes of heavy breathing, and Kyle was pulling back up. “I- I think I’m d-done.”
“Alright dude, I’m gonna get you up now, that okay?”
“Mhm”
Very, very carefully, Stan hauled Kyle from the floor, mindful not to move his knee too much and going slow in case of another bout of nausea. Moose trotted into the bedroom after his dads, obviously distressed seeing Kyle cry and immediately curling back up against the redhead when Stan set him down.
Stan was honestly a little nauseous himself, because Kyle’s frustrated tears never failed to make him emotional too. But he knew what to do here, he reminded himself. Fever was coming down, leg flare up was pretty routine, Kyle would rant it out if he had to and Stan would be his yes-man, and liquids were probably going to be the staple for the rest of the day.
He rolled up a throw blanket and propped it under Kyle’s leg, taking some strain off the irritated joint and kissing his husband’s kneecap when he did so. “You want ice, babe?”
“Yes I want fucking ice,” Kyle mumbled, arms draped over his eyes.
Stan could admit to enjoying taking care of Kyle when he fucked up his knee; pissed off Kyle was cute. “Aw, baby, I got you.” He grabbed the takeout bag from the nightstand too, not knowing if the bbq smell was lingering there too. “I’ll stick this in the fridge for when you want something solid, okay? How ‘bout another Ensure?”
Kyle grumbled something inaudible that Stan took as a yes. Poor thing was so upset. But he had every right to be, and Stan would never be annoyed at him for that.
Downstairs, he debated making his husband a smoothie, but the blender was loud, and his head probably already hurt from throwing up. Instead, he just grabbed an ice pack and a shake (strawberry, still gross but the flavor Kyle hated the least), taking the time to scribble out the nutrition information, just in case. That practice was pretty much habit at this point; he’d started ripping off or crossing out the calories on food for Kyle when they were fourteen, when his favorite person was recovering from his eating disorder, and even if he’d been more than fine for a longgggg time, Stan was prone to reverting to the past. When Kyle wasn’t okay, for whatever reason, food lore got crossed out.
“Dude, you up?”
“Mm”
“Shit, babe.” Stan knelt by the bed to carefully apply the ice, reaching a hand up to thumb away a falling tear. “You just mad?”
“Fucking pissed,” Kyle moaned. “It’s not enough that I have the goddamn plague?!? I have to have to fuck my leg up too? My parents are, like twice our age and even they don’t have fucking arthritis!” Kyle pointed two middle fingers to the ceiling as a ‘fuck you’ to god, which was actually pretty funny, but Stan didn’t laugh. That would only make his husband madder.
“Ky, c’mon.” Stan cupped under his head to kiss his cheek, relishing in the subtle smile that action brought. “And your parents didn’t shred tendons and refuse to do physical therapy.”
“I am damn well aware my goddamn arthritis is my own fault, Staniel.” But he sighed contentedly, adjusting the ice pack before leaning back against the pillows. “That helps. I’m sorry.”
Declaring the anger over for now, Stan climbed into bed beside him. “Don’t be sorry, dude. How’s your stomach?”
“I don’t fucking feel good.”
“I know, dude, can you drink a little water? We have to keep you hydrated.”
“It’ll just come back up.”
“Not necessarily.”
Moose crawled up between his dads, small furry head on Kyle’s shoulder, knowing he needed comfort. Kyle rubbed his face on the cat. “Babyman, did I scare you last night? I did, huh?”
“Dude,” Stan started, “he’s fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine. Drink something and don’t move your leg.”
“I didn’t shred my tendons, by the way.” Kyle protested. “I just tore some shit a little.”
“Enough that it’s a problem even now.”
“See, you get it.”
Stan laughed. “Quit being a dick and go to sleep, baby. You know you’ll feel better. I’m right here, dude, whatever you need.”
“I’m not being a dick, I’m being contrary.”
“Same difference.”
“Mm.”
God, poor Kyle, pissed off, sick, having a flare up on top of everything else. “Dude, what do you need?”
“Leg hurts.”
“We have a pack on it, dude. Maybe some ibuprofen? You should take some for the fever anyway.”
“It hurts.”
Stan started to gently rub his partner’s knee. “I know, babe. I know it’s hurting.”
“I hit it on the floor.”
“I know you did.”
“Fuck this shit.”
Kyle knew he was being a total dramatic asshole, but he didn’t care. God had fucked him over; he could be a dick. That made sense. “I’m mad, dude.”
“That’s okay.”
And no he didn’t have the right to be mad. Stan was being so sweet. Always. Any time Kyle’s meat suit betrayed him and he got upset about it, Stan was there, doting and adorable as ever. “I’m sleepy.”
“So go to sleep.”
“Something bad’s gonna happen.”
“Oh, dude.” Stan wrapped around him, carefully. “We’re not OCD spiraling. We’re not. A little rest, alright?”
In actuality, Kyle was too tired to argue.
It had to have been a few hours when Stan felt Kyle stir against his chest, swinging over to get out of bed… and promptly falling with a loud “FUCK!”
“Ky?”
“I FUCKING FORGOT ABOUT MY GODDAMN LEG!!!”
Stan sprang off the bed then too, getting on the floor beside his hyperventilating husband. “Dude, shhh, okay, okay, straighten it out.”
Sobbing, Kyle did. “D-don’t, freak, okay? I moved it weird, that’s all.”
“It’s fine, dude. Look at me. I’m not freaking out.” He was just doing a good job hiding it. Stan hated seeing Kyle cry, emotional, probably still feverish and nauseated, trying to get up in the middle of the night and falling on his knee, just the perfect storm of fucked up shit. But Kyle needed to stay calm, above all else. “What did you need, dude? Let me help you.”
“Water,” Kyle mumbled dejectedly.
“And guess what? You have me for that.” Stan carefully felt around his husband’s leg. “Can I turn a light on?”
Kyle responded by throwing up into the trash can, which had Stan gagging too. Fuck. Honestly, he was surprised he lasted so long without sympathy puking. “Hold on, baby.”
Stan rushed to the bathroom to empty his own stomach, somehow only just noticing that he still hadn’t put a shirt on from earlier. And Kyle hadn’t said anything about him wearing “outside pants” in bed, either, which was probably the best indicator of how sick he was.
Flushing down the panic induced vomit, Stan stood and glared at his reflection while he rinsed his mouth out, gulping a few handfuls of water from the sink. He had to keep it together. He needed a plan. Okay. Get Kyle back in bed, check his temperature and blood sugar, go downstairs to fill up his water and feed Moose, go from there.
Kyle had curled up on the floor back in the bedroom, and Moose had the zoomies. Stan sighed.
“Dude, okay, let’s get up.”
“Moving sucks ass.”
“I know it does, babe, but the bed is better than the floor.”
“Quit being right,” Kyle mumbled, allowing himself to be helped back under the covers. Stan snagged his readers from the nightstand, flipping on the lamp and grabbing the thermometer too.
“Okay, melmë, let’s see.”
Kyle smiled a little. “You look like a dad.”
“I am a dad,” he reminded him. Even if he’d bemoaned needing reading glasses and his body getting softer with age, his sentimental side was happy he had made it this far in life, especially with Kyle at his side. “Our son is bouncing off the walls as we speak. Open.”
Down to 100.3, thank whoever the fuck was up there. Maybe he should be thanking Kyle’s God, not having any attachment to one of his own. When he’d first started AA and found that part of the whole thing was putting things in the hands of a higher power, he had posed the question of what to do if you weren’t particularly religious to his sponsor. Mark had said “hell, put your faith in the doorknob if you want. Got you in here, didn’t it?”
“What’s the damage?” Kyle inquired.
“Definitely better. You want to check your levels or can I?”
Kyle slowly opened his eyes. “I got it, sweetheart, you’ve been doing so much.”
“Because I want to.”
“I’m difficult.”
Stan brought Kyle’s hand up to his lips and kissed it. “It so isn’t your fault that you got sick, or that you hurt your knee, or that you have diabetes. In sickness and in health, right?” Kyle’s fond grin only grew, and Stan decided to let up on the overbearingness. He snatched Moose up quickly on the cat’s next lap around the room. “I’m filling your water and feeding the dragon, okay? Be right back.”
So he had sweat out most of the fever, it seemed like. Judging by how sticky he felt, Kyle was fairly certain he was over the worst. At least in terms of the fucking stomach flu. His leg was a different story.
It was dim in the bedroom with only a sliver of moonlight slipping through the window, and the soft light from the lamp, but he could feel that he’d aggravated his knee pretty bad. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. The cartilage felt like it was grinding when he shifted. Kyle groaned in frustration, debating trying to hop over to the closet for his brace, but deciding against it, because Stan would flip his lid if he saw him standing. And considering what his blood sugar was at, being vertical was a bad idea anyway.
Said husband returned to the room. “I come bearing gifts for the king!”
Dork. Freshly refilled water, a KMBS, sleeve of crackers. Stan presented the juice. “Your elixir, melda târ. And-“ he beelined for the top of the closet, clearly having read Kyle’s mind.
“Thank you, my most dutiful and trusted of knights.” Kyle let him secure the knee brace, watching as those careful, strong, gentle hands worked, as Stan leaned down to kiss his leg when he was done. His Stan. His sweet Sir Marshwalker.
“Oh, shit, dude, are you crying? Does it hurt that much?” Stan was up by his face again. Kyle shook his head.
“It’s not that; I just- I really fucking love you,” he sobbed.
“Aw, baby, come here.” Stan climbed into bed and wrapped around him again, avoiding touching his husband’s stomach or leg. A little jingle of Moose’s collar announced their boy’s return to the bedroom, a tiny *prrrt* as the cat settled back at Kyle’s side. “You’re not as warm as you were, Ky, I think you’re getting better. That’s good, my love, you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Kyle murmured against him, damp eyelashes tickling Stan’s chest. “You still don’t have a shirt on.”
Stan laughed. So he had noticed. “You complaining?”
“You know I’m not.”
#gaywads#bedtime stories with PCE#for Ana my love#OrangeJuiceVerse#again idk how to tag this#style#them#south park#my shit#emeto tw#illness#chronic pain#whump#more bullshit#lmm voice: look at my son#look at this i learned something today ass bitch#i spy an elf king#fanfiction#my wriitng#sorry for all the vomit in this dude#also this shit#self indulgent#as fuck#PCE stfu abt OJV Kyle’s bad knee#here we goooo#yea the title is a direct throam reference and I’m not sorry
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
whats the most iconic/memorable thing abt ur friends
Hmmm there is a lot but I will try to mention as much ppl as possible!
Sleepy- Riddle x Yumi CEO, I will sit down and let her tell me stories about them as my bedtime story so I can have fluffy and cute dreams about them!
Joe- I keep thinking of how me and Joe just keep losing our shit 24/7 whenever C!Trickster is around. His pure existence is enough to ruin friendships lol!!
Mango- literally anytime he get in a VC and just say something random!
Fifi- THE ONE AND ONLY GOAT! THE KING ID THE RATS!! MY PARDON IN CRIME!!!
Beth- her Shadow and knuckles VA is PRICELESS!!!
Pins- the most iconic moment for me to think of about pins is that when I finally discover that Pins is not all rainbow and sunshine and wouldn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus if I become too random for her own and everyone’s good/jk but fr tho I think it is whenever she just send something in OC chat and I am ready for whatever new questions she has, is a nice way to get to know the ocs XD
Tae- literally almost every Tae interaction is an iconic one, especially when she try to deny anything that we call her as and to the point of tears and suffering in which is music to my ears!
Yumi- there is a lot for Yumi too but I always remember that time when she try to explain to me the lore of her world and even show maps and I am just the cat in space meme being so god dame lost but I love it anyway lol
Lupi- WIIIIIIFE! If I have to think of an iconic moment is when I bought some stuff in Reverse 1999 when she left to do something in vc and only returned to see me spend and the disappointment in her voice 😔
There is more but I just woke up and too lazy to think hard about more soooo~ yeah!
14 notes
·
View notes
Note
I read your new chapter on Tuesday and it took me 3 business days to compile my thoughts lmaoooo
2 things I didn’t mention in the ao3 comments:
1. i LOVED your choice to have Regina come out to Damien first. I could write a novel on why I loved that writing choice, but I’ll save you the trouble of reading it. I think he gave her a perspective and a reaction that she really needed, and Gretchen, respectfully, wouldn’t have given her that.
2. I kid you not, I have thought about the face painting scene between Regina and Janis every single night since I read it 😂 your story has infiltrated my bedtime daydreaming fr
1.Regina coming out to Damian was actually one of the first scenes I wrote for this story! With how much the story has changed since I started, it was a pleasant surprise that I thought it still really fit. He's one of the few people who isn't completely charmed by Regina, and has the ability to call her on shit while still being proud of her.
2. 😂 it was so fun to write! Regina is so so bad at handling her crush lmao
that's so wild and sorry that the story has taken over your daydreams but what a compliment! Glad their shenanigans stick with you lol
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
omg no fr i love the breeding so much UGHHH it’s like my favorite kink. i just love him telling her stuff like that UGHH. “look so good taking all of me like this sweet girl. gonna get you all full of me so it’s all you fucking know.” “look so fucking cute with your belly all swollen because of me. want everyone to fucking know you’re mine.” “be such a good mama, sweet girl. know you would.” “would you like that, baby? wanna have my babies?” and she’s all “yes, fuck harry, yes. can feel you so deep, wanna take all of it. please. please cum in me. please. want all of you forever, har.” JDJCNDCN BYEEE i’m dizzy.
-🕷️
UMMMMM YES!! Bye don’t mind me, just gonna be rereading this for like…ever??? Literally send me this ASAP when you finish (if you want)!!!! 😭😭😭😭 he’s so….and it’s so….and YOU’RE SO?? 😭
New favorite bedtime story right here 🫶
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
I spent all my primogems on my low ar account *cough 4 pulls cough* (I made a third one out of fun, but in the server that matches my time zone + decided to use only 4* characters; i kinda neglected this account ngl)
I GOT BOTH SETHOS AND THOMA!!!
Would you believe me if I said I am at ar 59 on my main account and don't have thoma? (Or charlotte, but she wasn't on many banners so makes sense)
Well, but I can't ascend thoma yet, and I have the sumeru desert teleport waypoint unlocked, so that's a win!!
And, the bedtime story quest got me overthinking... and yes, I really wish we got to see more of dain, like we waited for so longgg....
Also, is it just me, or does dain being sensitive to the ley lines, and the fact that the abyss mages drop the ley branches just plain odd? Like the abyss mage– a monster of the abyss– dropping ley line branch mats is... something...
And the idea of dain being a younger brother is... funny; like yk with halfdan I was thinking that dain seems like the person who's patient with others, will help anyone who sincerely needs help and stuff (basically the calm, wise older brother to others), but now all I'm thinking about is dain, when he was younger, being a bit rebellious towards his older brother, throwing attitude at him, and gaining everyone's affections while having that 'I'm-better-than-you' look on his face as he side eyes his older brother😭😭
🍀
NO BC FR THE GAME WENT "lol u wanted a female electro sword user so we gave u her! ...sike we were just bantering, here is ur clorinde and her weapon in the next 40 pulls" and honestly? i think it gave me a heart attack 🧍♀️
YEAAAHHHH CONGRATS ON GETTING UR SETHOS AND THOMA ON UR ALT 😩😩 and dw i believe u bc im ar60 and still dont have heizou (chevreuse also but she was released like 2 patches ago) 🫡
and no but fr... like it probably messes with his curse and stuff too which is so foul when they intentionally tamper with the leylines for their projects and stuff 😭
but u know what would be the absolute kicker? if all his ascension/level up mats were everything dropped by the abyss order. like he uses the leyline branches dropped by abyss mages and his boss asc mats were some new big abyss world boss, and his talent mats would be our twins drops if we get them as a weekly 🧍♀️ i would laugh through the pain and tears 🥹
LITERALLY??? like,,, in my head i saw him as an only child who knew how to care for others due to him being a captain and looking after his fellow knights/soldiers + the ppl of khaenri'ah, but now knowing he is actually a younger brother.... young menace dain... hyv i beg i need a cg or an animated short or some hidden text or SMTH abt how he was as a younger brother 😭 like,,, i can see him being all starry-eyed and having a deep respect for + looking up to vedrfolnir, but the image of him being a little shit behind the scenes while all cordial in front of everyone else is way too funny i cannotntjls
#omg a convo !?#clover nonnie !!#just genshin <3#genshin spoilers#<- just in case bc of talks of the dain aq !!#I NEED MORE DAIN LORE STAT#sobs this is making me want to go back a rewrite the dain wip from years ago... pre-cataclysm and just two knights in training... ourgh
1 note
·
View note
Note
Hey! Could you answer some questions please?
Q1) Which SSR movie made you want to watch his entire filmography from the start?
Q2) Have you watched SSR'S movies in a chronological order or not?
Q3) Who's your favourite SSR character from each of his movies that's he's made for over 20 years?
Q4/Bonus Question) What's your favourite musical number/song and scene from SSR'S movies?
Thanks for the ask and oooh an interesting one at that!
1. I've never watched SSR's filmography as a purposeful sitdown. His movies usually air like casual reruns every week on some channel or the other. But if a movie of his would make me feel like I have to re-experience his basket of films, it would be Eega for sure. I mean I can go on and on about that movie. It's either Eega or Magadheera because both were milestones in both his career and in the Telugu film industry.
2. I haven't really (don't come at me SSR fans) because I feel like any of his movies set in the present world and having normal storylines (besides Chatrapathi, that movie is iconic) are a one time watch. SSR has a knack for nailing the period pieces and weird themes so I don't really watch all his movies in chronological order. But if they come on tv in that order (here they kinda do that stuff if they wanna celebrate a birthday or a new award etc) then I could fathom sitting down and giving them a watch
3. Oh boy that's a tough cookie. I'm prolly gonna disappoint with my answers lmao. My fav characters:
Student No. 1- tarak's character ig? Haven't watched that film in a long time
Simhadri - Bhumika's character. Even I would like to forget my life sometimes. And I too, nail the dialogue "aakalestondi" (transl. I'm hungry) like, a thousand times a day
Sye - the best friend who writes all the homework, cz... Damn the dedication gorl. Also imo she's a lesbian girlboss in later life but that's just my measly headcanon idkkk
Chatrapathi - the friend. Absolutely the friend. The orphan friend who gets killed while helping the children hide from the slum fight takeover. He's my smol bean. And he's the real hero
Vikramarkudu - Brahmi thatha's character, the relative who is also a thief. His expressions are the only comedy apart from the little girl. They give this movie a lightness fr
Yamadonga - do i even need to say this? The pendant. That's my favourite character! Let's be real we all have an entity like that that never leaves us but we just don't KNOW it yet
Magadheera - Badshah. Badshah the warrior horsey is my favorite character, as he should be
Maryada Ramanna - as annoying as he is, Brahmaji's character, the tongue-in-cheek older second cousin that GETS KILLED BY HIS OWN FAMILY FOR NO FAULT OF HIS
Eega - the father who tells his daughter this entire story of a fly's revenge on a millionaire as a bedtime story. You are top tier sir. May all young minds have guidance like yours. Namaste. A close second place goes to the Tantrik because I love his teasing riddle to Sudeep (in Telugu it goes like "inappeti, aggipetti, nee muddula mohaniki masipatti, ee tantrani vettukkuntu vastav" and honestly.... I haven't loved rhyming stuff more)
Bahubali the Beginning - Shivudu's tribal mom. Girlboss. Icon. She's strong, she loves her adopted kid enough to walk up and down from the river to the Shivalinga a million times. She is the moment.
Bahubali the Conclusion - none. Istg this movie gets on my nerves as a writer because literally every character except Bahu is ooc (just my perspective, everybody is entitled to their opinion)
RRR - BHEEM. come to me in a thousand years and my answer still won't change. My smol bean, my raja, my entirety, my love, my heart. He's one of the best written characters of all of SSR's characters (the list is: Bheem, Chatrapathi's friend, Sivagami, honestly Priyamani's character in Yamadonga a bit?, the cycle in Maryada Ramanna - the perfect enemies to reluctant friends arc, and Nani)
4. Fav musical no. Is (don't laugh) the train song in Maryada Ramanna because something about that tune just puts my worries to sleep.
Fav musical scene. this might be fucked up (my mom would think so lol) but the scene in Yamadonga where she unfurls her black half saree (voni) to protect a sleeping Raja from the midday sun.... Like ugh that's.... Yeah I can't talk because my mouth ain't making any sounds
Again, thanks for the ask omg I never knew I had so many opinions until I was asked for them🤣🤣😅 hope you don't hate me for my answers
1 note
·
View note
Text
Beautiful Feeling
Matthew gray Gubler x fem! Reader
chapter 6 : just a little longer
faceclaim – elsa hosk
previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter
liked by mggupdates, enews, tmz, and 597,968 others
@keepingupwiththegublers : Fashion icon, Y/n L/n, seen strutting around New York City. The vultures (aka paparazzi) caught up with her. She was immediately bombarded by questions; and she answered none of them. Just kept walking. Badass energy we all aspire to have.
View all 9,924 comments
mggupdates: icon.
justy/n: she’s so strong like the things they were yelling at her woulda made me slap them. she deserves better but she handled it like a boss
enews: paparazzi by lady gaga energy
everyonelovesy/n: I know gube was listening to cinema and thinking of y/n i just KNOW it 💅
y/nsbigtoe: I’m so in love with this woman
purpletiegublerguy: I love her sense of style honestly like gube and y/n/n have the best outfits ever!
gublerarchive: omg i saw the video!!!! they were being so intrusive.. asking her questions about her pregnancy and her sex life and just everything personal.. gross gross gross!! 💔🤮
tmz: she is the king of not answering questions
liked by thisisy/n, danielhenney, tanfrance, and 85,724 others
gublergram: at home playing cards and listening to harry’s house. rest and relaxation before the baby is here. ps. y/n has watched, listened, and screamed about every interview and live performance that has gone on this week and in the past few months, in regards to Harry's House.
View all 3,924 comments
thisisy/n: letting you know now that since H read that bedtime story i have saved it and will be playing it for our baby every night. enjoy.
danielhenney: Who won?
⤷ gublergram: the cat. she used her magical powers!
lovely/n: is everyone okay? because after this post i think we all, as a community, will be sliding down the wall..
spotify: y/n really said, “stream harry’s house”
⤷ gublergram: as a family we agree that.. harry only creates “bops” as y/n says, whatever that means.
j0shstewart: 🏠❤️
y/n’svinylcollection: stopping by to say that y/n better have gotten the some merch & the target exclusive / limited edition vinyls.. 😏 ⤷ thisisy/n: i did indeed get everything i could! been a fan since the 1D days 💙
keepingupwiththegublers: she’s just like us fr 🥰
ajcook: okay but how’s no one gonna mention y/n’s comment.. that’s adorable!
liked by gublergram and thisisy/n
liked by harrystyles, gublergram, karamo, and 2,848,924 others
thisisy/n: matilda - this song rips out your heart then repairs it and puts it back. to relate to this song and also be a mom is a whole other experience for me. i want my child to feel like family is the people and places that make you feel at home, that make you feel like you can be anything you want, love anyone you want, and chase any dreams you have. i want my child to know that they are free to grow and free to explore yet know that no matter what they can always come back home. family for me wasn’t who i was related to but rather the people who treated me like a family should. it was deeper than blood. as a mom, i wish nothing but happiness and good health for my baby no matter what that may look like. matilda is a piece of art, someone’s story, that is held carefully by those who feel it’s impact. thank you H, thank you for this song and for everything. and finally, thank you to my chosen family. i love you.
View all 958,685 comments
blakelively: 💛💛
ajcook: from one mother to another.. you are always learning and growing with your child. It's not always glamorous but it is the best thing to ever happen. you become a better person and love like you never have before. you will be/are such a great mom and we all have your back. i love you more than anything, y/n.
liked by thisisy/n
pillowpersonpp: this is the most beautiful thing I have ever read. sending you and your family all my love and well wishes.
liked by thisisy/n
aishatyler: so glad to be a part of your life!
karamo: I can’t stop crying!
spaceykacey: who’s gotta tissue also some red wine and ginger ale? I love you babe
harrystyles: Love youuu!!!
liked by thisisy/n
lizzobeating: I need to give you the biggest hug next time we see each other!!
ana_d_armas: You are the best mother ever, and will be forevermore ❤️
brittney_broski: GIRL IM LITERALLY SOBBING SO HARD RIGHT NOW OMG IM IN LOVE!! u spoke for every single harrie there is and every parent. love you mama, stay happy and healthy! ⤷ thisisy/n: you meeting and giving harry such a warm and loving hug.. that was for all of us in broski nation! love you lots! can't wait for the next town hall meeting 🥰
gublergram: i have never been more proud to call you mine. you are the strongest person i know and it is an honor to create something so magical with you. you are not the funniest (i am) but you're the second funniest gubler. to you. to us. to family.
liked by thisisy/n
vogue: your transparency with pregnancy and being a parent is something so many people will look up to and appreciate. you are a force of nature - we adore you! ⤷ thisisy/n: kisses to you, vogue! can't wait to share more in our interview coming out soon ;) xoxo
reblogs and comments are much appreciated !!
#fake instagram#social media au#celebrityinstagram#y/n instagram#y/n smau#famous reader#mgg imagine#mgg series#mgg fake instagram#mgg blurb#mgg fanfiction#mgg fluff#mgg x you#mgg x reader#y/n insert#matthew gray gubler x fem reader#matthew gray gubler social media au#matthew gray gubler x famous! reader#matthew gray gubler fake instagram#matthew gray gubler fanfic#elsa hosk#beautiful feeling#saturns masterpiece#spencer reid fanfic#social media spencer reid
278 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! I really like your writings!, I read a lot of them in AO3.
I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could please request a Zoro x Fem!reader nsfw with bdsm please!
Feel free to ignore this request if you’re not comfortable with it!
Thank you so much and have a good night 💕
Hii @littleblueeyedmoon ~~ tysm I appreciate that <3 Welcome to the other side where you'll be exposed to my one piece brain rot and other shenanigans. Have a mojito and hang around :) BDSM is pretty broad so I took a chance (threw a dart at board) and hope you like what I came up with! Enjoy your bedtime story <3
WC: 678. Spicy - M!n0rs DNI, BDSM/Zoro X F! Reader. CW: bondage, edging, cumming on pussy, dom/sub
Zoro towered over your naked body, spreading a subtle peppermint oil on your body. Your hands handcuffed to the headboard, you squirmed at his teasing gropes and brushes of fingers as he greased you. Adding small clamps to your hardened nipples, Zoro leaned back with a triumphant look on his face.
You tilted your head at the marimo, his tanned expansive chest, his chiseled abs, his rippling thighs. That massive throbbing cock.
"Yeah take a good look. Let me know if you need a break yeah?"
You whimper, "yeah ok."
Zoro frowns and leans back down, his cock hovering low on your stomach and your pussy clenches involuntarily. "You know how to address me in here."
You gulp, "yes, daddy."
"That's my Y/N, always the good girl."
He began stroking his cock as he leaned back again, taking in your restrained form, the way your nipples turned dark and reaching out to lightly flick one. You hiss and he loved it.
Zoro leaned down and stretched his body over yours. Hands greedily kneading your tits, his cock sliding against your vulva, teasing you by intentionally not lowering his hips. You whine pathetically.
"Aww do you want daddy to take care of you?" he mocked you with a smirk, he graciously adjusted his hips and you felt his cockhead slide between your slick lips. The heaviness of his cock as it grinded down on your sensitive sex, applying direct pressure to your clit.
You cry out, "yes, please daddy! You always take good care of me, I need you so badly, now right now!"
"You're very needy tonight," he chuckled.
With a steady thrust, he pushed into your core and pushed against your slick walls as he thrusted deep inside of you. You cry out at his intrusion, in happiness as his movements make you flutter and clench, racing to a delicious high.
Zoro gritted his teeth as he kept up his pace, allowing you some happiness. Then he stilled. Your eyes open in shock. You begin rutting your hips but he holds you down.
"That was just to get me comfortable inside here. Now the fun begins," he leered. Adjusting his position, he straddles your thighs with heavy cock still inside you, takes a relaxed position and drags a thick finger to your clitoris.
One swipe had you clenching on him and he groaned in response.
"Fuck Y/N, so needy for your daddy."
"Zoro I-" you stop speaking the second he stops touching you.
"Try again."
"Daddy...I need your touch!"
He began circling your clit with his thick fingers and you moaned and cried. Hips stuttering against his grasp as he rubbed and teased your sensitive nub, enjoying the way your walls coat him in wetness and clench on him. It was slowly building him up, from simmering to boiling.
And when you finally came from his fingers, he could not hold back as you clenched on him tightly, a gorilla grip on cock and he began to rut his hips. Doubling your pleasure, you ride the waves of your first orgasm as he thrusts into you to chase his.
Your arms burning from the strain, Zoro keeps rutting into you, short and hard movements as he let your pussy hug and milk him. He was very close. He adjusted his hips and reached new depths, something you gasped at and began moaning his name for.
It didn't take long for your to climax again, gasping and panting as his cock rubbed against you sinfully, the way you pulled him in deeper from your throbbing and rutting. He grunted out loud as you came and he pulled out.
Fisting his cock furiously, he grunted out loudly as he rubbed his tip and coaxed his orgasm out. His cum shooting out and hitting your vulva, your outer lips, running down your pussy. Gasping himself, he jerks himself more over your thighs, coating you in him.
"Did I take care of you?" he questioned.
"Yes daddy," you nod weakly.
"Good. Now it's time for you to take care of daddy."
#swampstew bedtime stories#swampstew#swampstew stories#raven answers#one piece zoro#roronoa zoro#zoro x y/n#zoro roronoa x reader#ronoroa zoro#op zoro#zoro x reader#zoro x you
46 notes
·
View notes