#never laughed so much to a show like i do to bridge kids

[zerothisnero]

I see you like bridge kids :3

Yes indeed!!! I accidentally came across the series at like 3am one day (my first episode ever watching from the show was killer bars) its had a tight grip on me ever since to the point that I've made an oc for the show :)

[favefandomimagines]

The Alchemy (j.m)

Request: @mrslestappen “May I request ( shy!Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank ) pleaseeeeee, where she has been friends with the boys just like Kie, (Kie, her and Sarah were the trio of friends) and after they reconciled she is super happy because she has her two best friends back. And let's just say JJ has a soft spot for her, even though she's a kook he's always taken care of her. And they have matching necklaces (the shark tooth one, let's just say that when he got his he also created hers and they have always had matching necklaces) + kind of obsessed with her (in a nice way) and let's say because she's always been with the guys she's never really been in a relationship so imagine the reaction JJ would have if she tells him she wants him to be her first kiss (first kiss is soft, second one is hot/possesive poor JJ will devour her, because only he knows how long he waited) and the rest I'll leave it up to you. (In my head this sounded better sorry)”

Summary: she always was going to pick him, he just needed to show her.

JJ Maybank didn't think he'd ever like a Kook. Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever even tolerate one. The Kooks were the people who had everything he and the other Pogues didn’t.

They were the rich kids on the other side of the island, the ones with trust funds, yachts, and pristine lives. JJ had seen enough of their type to last a lifetime, and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

Except for her.

Her name was Y/N Y/L/N, and she was the only Kook JJ had ever been able to stomach. In fact, he more than just "stomached" her — he adored her.

He couldn't remember when it started, but he was pretty sure it was around the time he realized girls were more than just annoying distractions during surf sessions.

Somewhere between scraped knees on the beach as kids and sharing late-night bonfire confessions, Y/N had become more than just his friend.

She wasn’t like the rest of the Kooks. Y/N might have lived in one of the fanciest houses on Figure Eight, but she didn’t act like it. She hung out with JJ, John B, and Pope since they were kids, running wild through the marshes and crashing parties on the Cut.

Her mom used to be close with John B’s mom before she left, which meant Y/N spent almost as much time in the Chateau as John B himself. She was their bridge between worlds, best friends with Kie and, surprisingly, even got along with Sarah Cameron after their recent reconciliation.

JJ had given her a shark tooth necklace that matched his own back when they were kids, and she had worn it ever since. The necklace was a symbol, a quiet testament to their shared adventures and secrets.

It rested just below her collarbone, a constant reminder that she belonged with the Pogues, even if she didn’t entirely fit into their world.

For the most part, JJ was content just having her around. But sometimes, like right now, with the sun setting over the water and Y/N laughing at something John B had said, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his chest that he wanted more. More than just her friendship, more than just stolen glances and the occasional accidental brush of hands.

||

It was one of those hot, sticky Outer Banks afternoons when Y/N came to find him. JJ was at the dock, cleaning up the HMS Pogue, when he saw her walking toward him. She looked like sunshine personified, with her long hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling as if she held the secrets of the universe.

“Hey, JJ,” she greeted, her voice light and carefree, but there was something nervous in the way she bit her lip.

“What’s up, Princess?” he asked, straightening up and wiping his hands on his jeans.

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her fingers toying with the shark tooth necklace he had given her. “I, uh, need to talk to you about something.”

JJ’s heart sank a little, the teasing grin on his face faltering. Usually, that phrase meant bad news. “What did you do this time? Burn down another country club?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but laughed. “No, JJ, not this time. It’s… it’s about a guy.”

JJ froze. “A guy?” he echoed, feeling like the ground had just shifted beneath him.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice softening. “I… I got asked out on a date.”

JJ’s stomach dropped, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He’d always known this day would come eventually, but he wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt. “Who?” he managed to ask, trying to keep his voice steady.

“His name’s Trevor. He’s new in town, just moved here from Wilmington,” she explained, her eyes flicking to JJ’s face to gauge his reaction.

He knew the guy — tall, dark hair, probably some rich Kook kid whose family had money to burn. JJ felt the jealousy bubble up, hot and fierce. “And when’s this date supposed to happen?”

“Tomorrow night,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The girl he’d been in love with for years was going on a date with some random guy who had just waltzed into town. “Do you even like this dude?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, looking genuinely conflicted. “But… what if he tries to kiss me?”

JJ’s jaw clenched. “Then tell him to back off,” he snapped, his temper flaring.

Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping. “It’s not that simple, JJ. I’ve never… I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

The admission hung in the air between them, and JJ felt his heart stutter. Y/N, the girl who could light up a room with just her smile, had never had her first kiss. It was almost unfathomable. He swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the tidal wave of emotions crashing over him.

“Y/N…” he began, not sure what to say.

“I know it’s dumb,” she said quickly, looking down at her feet. “But I don’t want to mess it up. What if I’m terrible at it?”

He wanted to laugh because there was no way in hell she’d be bad at anything. “Are you seriously asking me for kissing advice?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Actually… I was hoping you could�� you know… be my first kiss.”

JJ’s mind went blank. Of all the things he expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. He stared at her, trying to wrap his head around the idea that the girl he’d been crazy about for years was asking him to be her first kiss. But not because she wanted him in that way — no, it was just so she wouldn’t screw up with some other guy.

“Y/N, are you serious?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

She nodded, her cheeks turning pink. “I trust you, JJ. I know you won’t make it weird.”

Too late for that, he thought bitterly. But he couldn’t say no to her, not when she was looking at him like that. “Alright,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But if I’m gonna be your first kiss, I’m not gonna half-ass it.”

Her eyes sparkled with gratitude, and she took a step closer to him.

They stood on the dock, the sun casting golden light over the water. JJ’s heart was pounding in his chest as Y/N moved even closer, so close he could feel her breath on his skin. He could see the nervous flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips parted just slightly.

“Just… close your eyes, okay?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotions he couldn’t quite name.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fluttering shut, her lips trembling ever so slightly. JJ took a deep breath, his hand moving up to gently cup her cheek. His thumb brushed against her skin, and he could feel her shiver under his touch.

Then, with a tenderness he didn’t even know he was capable of, JJ leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft, gentle, the kind of kiss that could be over in the blink of an eye if you weren’t careful. But for JJ, it felt like the world had stopped. Her lips were warm and soft against his, and he could feel the way her fingers clutched at his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard, their eyes locked.

“How was that?” he asked, his voice barely more than a rasp.

Y/N was staring at him, her eyes wide and dazed. “That was… perfect,” she whispered. But then, as if realizing herself, she shook her head. “But maybe… one more time? Just to make sure I’ve got it?”

JJ’s breath hitched. This time, he didn’t hold back. He kissed her again, harder, more desperate, like he was trying to pour every unsaid word and unspoken feeling into that kiss. His hands cupped her face, Y/N melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair, and he was lost. He was completely and utterly lost in her.

When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping for air. JJ rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her face. “Don’t go on that date, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his. And then she smiled, that beautiful, sunlit smile that he loved so much. “Yeah… I think I need to cancel that date,” she said softly.

||

It wasn’t long before the rest of the Pogues found out. Kie was ecstatic, practically tackling Y/N in a hug when she found out, while John B just grinned knowingly. Pope was the most surprised, but even he seemed happy for them.

“Finally!” Kie exclaimed, throwing her arms around JJ and Y/N “I was wondering how long it would take you two to figure it out.”

JJ just grinned, pulling Y/N close to his side. “Better late than never, right?”

The group celebrated their newfound relationship with a bonfire at the beach, laughter and music filling the night air. JJ couldn’t keep his hands off Y/N, whether it was holding her hand or wrapping an arm around her waist. He’d spent so long wanting this, and now that he had it, he wasn’t letting go.

As the night drew to a close, JJ pulled Y/N aside, away from the others. “I’m glad you picked me,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes shining. “I always would have picked you, JJ. I just needed you to show me first.”

He kissed her again, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that felt like coming home. And for the first time in his life, JJ Maybank felt like he had everything he ever wanted.

The waves crashed around them, the world fading away until it was just the two of them, lost in each other. The Pogues cheered in the background, but JJ didn’t hear any of it.

All he could focus on was the girl in his arms, the girl who had always been more than just a Kook, more than just a friend. She was everything.

And she was his.

[beneathashadytree]

RESPONSIBLE DADS - LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN X READER

Warnings : autistic!Zayne with his autistic daughter, all of them are girl dads here (except for Xavier who has twins), cuteness-aggression bites, one mention of a gun (no one is harmed!), no mentions of pregnancy (their kids can be interpreted as biological or adopted), this isn’t proof-read, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : so much domestic fluff ☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 2.3K words (holy shit???)

Additional notes : This is a combination of two asks I’d received a month or two ago about the LNDS men as dads while their partner is away, and Zayne in particular struggling with his own autism vs his child’s autism. The brain rot was real in this one😭 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

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Masterlist

“She went down without much of a fuss,” Zayne said, slowly closing the bedroom door behind him as he set his phone on the dresser and got ready for bed over the video call, despite the time zone differences. He’d tried to convince them to just let themself rest instead of staying up past 3 AM, but they’d paid him no mind and insisted on seeing him last thing before bed.

They hummed, watching him slip out of his button up through their screen with a fond gaze. “She is really quiet compared to what I’ve heard about kids her age.”

In the midst of folding his shirt, he paused, a slight crease between his eyebrows. “A little too quiet.” At his concerned face, they straightened up in their seat and leaned in closer to their phone. “I think… she has difficulty connecting with me.”

Their expression was unsure at that. “I don’t know, Zayne. You know she loves you…”

“I do,” was his swift answer, pausing as he pulled his pyjama shirt over his head, then popping out with his hair adorably mussed. “But maybe she feels like I wouldn’t understand her.”

No matter how much he wanted to seem stoic and unaffected by the prospect, there was no hiding the conflicted emotions swimming in his eyes. With an almost sad smile, they asked him, “Even though anyone that sees you two says you have so much in common?”

With a slight flush (was it out of embarrassment as he noticed his messy hair, or was it a twinge of pride in being so connected to his daughter?) he began to apply his minimal skincare that he’d grown used to with them, scarred skin deftly being cared for after years of neglect.

“Autistic girls have different experiences than autistic boys, and their struggles are often overlooked because of these differences. Maybe she subconsciously feels that we can’t bridge that gap.”

Resting their head against their hand, keen eyes bore through him. Zayne would never go unheard as long as they were there. “Do you feel that gap?”

He shrugged, swallowing thickly as he wiped the excess off on his hand towel. “It’s not about me. Studies show that—”

Shaking their head, they sighed a little in affectionate exasperation. “It doesn’t matter what studies say. You’re overthinking it because you want things to be perfect. It’s sweet, just… not very realistic.”

“Mm. I know,” he softly conceded, combing through his hair with a distant glimmer in his eyes. It wasn’t so easy, navigating the emotions and ideas of a child that one already struggled with for decades.

They apologetically smiled at him, then added, “She trusts you with her life because she knows how hard you try to understand her, no matter how difficult that may be sometimes. You give her the space to be able to communicate her needs properly, and that’s why she loves you beyond measure, Zayne.”

He looked away for a few beats, but that was enough time for them to see the misty-eyed wonder in his eyes as he looked at the crooked drawing on his bedside table that she’d made of him holding her in his arms.

His sweet daughter who carried a piece of his heart everywhere she went.

“Then she’s just like you. Very open with her affections.” Huffing out an impossibly tender laugh, he picked up his phone once again and began to climb into bed, his shoulders sagging with relief; like he needed that reassurance to be able to nestle his body into the mattress, cold as it was without his lover. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it from you both…”

“You’re gonna get sick like that, and guess who’ll be cleaning up that mess?” Rafayel frowned, grabbing his daughter by the scruff of her neck and carrying her off before she got her pretty dress drenched by the wave that came crashing down where she’d been standing.

“I can’t get sick from water, daddy, and you know it,” came the reply between giggles, her eyes closed as she relished in the spray of seawater.

With a grunt, he fumbled with his phone a little as he switched to carrying her against his hip with one arm, before turning back to the ongoing video call. “Holding down the fort?” they teasingly asked, arching their brow at their daughter’s windswept hair and inevitably sandy fists curled up against Rafayel’s chest.

“She likes to bully me.” He pouted as he saw two pairs of mischievous eyes looking at him. “No guesses as to where she picked that up from.”

“Are you sure that your six year old daughter—who, mind you, is as cute as a button—is bullying you?”

“Daddy’s just silly, Lemurians are fine with water,” his daughter tried to reason with what she felt was perfectly logical. “He just doesn’t want to wash my clothes again if I get them wet.”

“And why should I?” he indignantly huffed out at the grin that showed she was definitely up to no good. “They’ll get dirty ten seconds later anyways. It’s such a pain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave paint buckets everywhere, then I wouldn’t be on my fourth dress of the day.” Her sassy mutter under her breath was the last straw, and then his instincts took over and—

Chomp!

His teeth nibbled on her round little cheeks, cuteness aggression washing away any possible annoyance (which he’d been feigning, anyways) at the prospect of having to do the laundry all over again. She cried out in protest, though her shreaks of laughter and tighter hold on him gave away the fact that—not unlike his partner—she loved every bit of it.

“You got my face all dirty,” she whined, wiping her cheek against his silk shirt as he walked them back up to the house, much to his dismay.

A chuckle came from his screen, and he flushed under the sweet gaze and the grin he missed so much. “There goes another round in the washing machine. Y’know, Raf, it’s not the smartest move around to wear your favorite clothes around your kid.”

“No kidding,” he grumbled, though there was no bite behind his words. In fact, the tender look in his gem-like eyes only spoke volumes of the adoration he held inside. And maybe his little girl felt it, and decided it would be the perfect moment to press a kiss to where she could reach, right over his heart.

“I don’t mind the paint, daddy. You always make the prettiest things with it, pretty just like you,” she softly said, her tiny index finger toying with the pearlescent button on his blouse.

How much more did she want to squeeze his heart in his chest? He didn’t think he could possibly love her any more than he already did, and yet here she was, proving over and over again that she was the greatest gift he could ever be blessed with after all these years. Walking into their home with sandy feet and salty skin was no longer a dream, but a part of his quaint little life.

“Even if you did ruin my favorite dress and sandals.”

“Papa’s been asleep for three hours now,” she whined in a low voice, her bottom lip jutted out as she looked back at Xavier curled up in a ball in the middle of the unmade bed, legs tangled in the messy sheets. She then turned back to the videocall at hand. “Can’t you wake him up, please?”

Her twin brother popped up from behind her and patted her shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “He’s tired after he played with us. Let’s leave him for a bit.”

With a downcast gaze, she reluctantly nodded and walked out with him, the phone shaking as it was a little too big for her small hands.

Now out in the living room, they could finally raise their voices a little. “Papa cleaned up in the morning too. We probably shouldn’t have asked him to play with us.” He looked a little forlorn as he fiddled with his fingers. Painfully shy, it often showed when he was doubting himself. “We tried to help him after lunch, but—”

“That’s okay, what matters is that you both tried to lend him a hand,” they sweetly reassured them as they smiled through the screen. “And I’m sure if he was too tired to play with you guys, he wouldn’t have offered it in the first place.”

Their daughter gasped, eyes shining in awe at that. “How did you know that Papa was the one who came up with the game?”

“Because he waits for playtime every day, just to spend time with you guys. He’s always so excited, y’know?”

With matching grins (though one was more bashful than the other), the two seven year-olds looked significantly lighter than they had been when the call had first started. The precious moment was soon interrupted by a yawn from behind and a tuft of blonde hair taking up half the background.

“Did you two sneak off to have them all to yourself?” came Xavier’s sleep-addled voice, as he shuffled to pull them onto his lap and readjust the camera. “Cheeky, taking advantage of my nap.”

His daughter laughed, her hands going to loop around his neck. “We weren’t! Promise.”

Her brother reached up to pat down Xavier’s bedhead, gently combing through the soft locks. “You looked tired, Papa. We didn’t want to wake you up with our voices.”

At that, Xavier couldn’t help the upwards quirk of his lips, all the love one could contain threatening to burst through as he held his world between his fingertips—and the best part of him miles away but no further from the heart.

“You’re sweet, just like a certain someone we all miss,” he said, before kissing their foreheads and ruffling their hair, earning little grumbles of protest. Turning his attention back to the videocall, Xavier’s eyes softened. “How long until we can take naps together on the couch again?”

His partner sighed, glancing at the calender on the wall for a moment. “Should be three days. It’s hell without you guys. Maybe I’ve gotten used to waking you all up for an hour in the mornings.”

“Hey, it’s all because of Papa!”

“He does sleep in twice as long as us…”

“And it’s gotten even worse now that you’re gone.”

He chuckled at their sulking feeding off each other, and the collective agreement that things just weren’t the same when his lover wasn’t beside him where they belonged. “Then maybe this should be enough to convince them to hurry back to us so we can get up early every day, hmm?”

“Tell me why Luke and Kieran frantically called me up and told me stop you from endangering our one year old girl. Now.”

“Well, hello to you too, sweetie.” Sylus rolled his eyes at the clearly enthusiastic greeting. “I’ve missed you too. I’m doing good without you for two weeks. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that crap. You’ll live.” Scoffing, they crossed their arms in front of their chest. “Less avoiding the topic, more explaining why your seconds in command are treating you like a ticking bomb.”

“They’re more like lackeys, you know.” A hint of irritation climbed up his spine. Luke and Kieran were more like lost puppies that would be a danger to themselves—and society—if they were left to their whims. That’s all that they were (or so he tried to convince himself).

They waved him off, knowing that his half-assed words weren’t to be taken seriously. “I beg to differ. Now, where is she and what happened?”

Silence settled for a few moments, but then he realized it wasn’t in his favor to not quickly come clean. “She was playing around with me in bed, then seemed fascinated by my left pocket. Said pocket… may or may not have had a gun.”

Leaning in close to the camera, they sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of their nose. “And I’m assuming her magic little fingers found the trigger.”

“More or less yes,” he mumbled under his breath, swallowing thickly as he met their dead-eyed stare. “Had to whip it out and fling it across the room… which may or may not have caused it to slam into the new bookcase and send it toppling.”

It didn’t matter how many people he’d managed to fearlessly face down; pinned underneath his partner’s disapproval, he found himself unable to move. “And that’s where they came in?”

Sylus hummed, flipping the camera and showing them the fractured remains on the floor. “Sorry about that, sweetie. Didn’t have the time to clean it up, what with feeding her and getting her ready for bed.”

“It’s fine, I can build another one.” Their quick dismissal was followed by the furrowing of their eyebrows. “What matters is that you prioritized her safety first.”

“Of course,” he was quick to reply, turning the camera back to himself, before he chuckled a little, sweetness seeping through his voice, “Though I do admit, seeing her have no self-preservation instincts really did make her strikingly similar to you in that regard.”

“Really flattering, hearing you praise her brashness and compare it to mine.” Their expression then grew more serious, and they worried their bottom lip between their teeth. “But… please. Don’t keep any weapons in the same room as her. She’s naturally curious.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he murmured, having had his dose of sheer panic at her tiny hands. He couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he’d been as terrified as he was earlier, his blood turning to ice at the thought of endangering her because of his own fast-paced life.

“I know you’ll be more careful. You’re so good to her—and me,” they quietly mused, a grateful look on their face as they admired him—tired ruby eyes, unruly silver hair, and all.

And Sylus had no control over his own lovesick stare, perfectly content with dancing in their palm for the rest of their lives. After all, he’d found the only two people in this world he could forfeit his life for. There was no shame in admitting it—and so he did, ever so softly. “I suppose you can take pride in knowing that you both have me wrapped around your fingers.”

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[taexoxosgf]

DO IT AGAIN

PAIRING brother’s best friend!park jisung x fem!reader

WORDS 3.7k

SYNOPSIS your brother’s best friend can never get you alone. that’s why he won’t miss an opportunity— even if your brother’s on the other side of the walls.

WARNINGS reader is tyong’s sister, jealousy, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

NOTES this smut is actually from a super long fic i posted on my old account! i’m not sure if i’m gonna post the whole thing because i’m cringing rereading it lol

“So, how’s your big bro’s parties? It’s better than frat parties huh?” Taeyong dangles the red cup charged with alcohol in front of your face just for you to swat away in annoyance. “No musty bathrooms and paint peeling off the walls! Woooooooo!”

You’re going to have to have a jolly time cleaning his vomit in the morning. “Stop drinking you little shit. I’m not gonna take care of you tomorrow, just so you know.”

He does a little dance that has you suppressing a laugh, “The night is still young! Loosen up a little! Won’t stop until you’re having as much fun as me!” Your brother is so out of it, that he bumps into a million corners of the home and an attendee urges him to the couch.

“Actually… I’m not feeling so good,” he shushes the person helping before running out of the main room.

“Oh my god,” you pinch the sides of your nose bridge, unable to understand how Taeyong’s motto is always all or nothing.

You're nothing near Taeyong's level of intoxication, and whether it's the devil on your shoulder or the drink, you want Jisung. Excruciatingly so. Whoever claimed that drinking made you act like a bitch in heat wasn't kidding. It's more than true now that you know he's nearby– wanting to look for Jisung because if he wasn't going to make a move tonight, you would.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls you, prompting you to turn around.

“Hyuck? Oh my god! How are you?” you’re already bringing your arms out for a hug and he’s quick to immediately accept.

You both went to high school together before he left for university thousands of miles away. He still texts you now and then, but due to the time difference, you never had the opportunity to properly catch up.

“Not doing too bad. It’s so good to finally talk face-to-face babe, holy shit,” he chuckles.

“How’s the East Coast? Did you find a girlfriend at Columbia yet?”

“Nah, you know me. Girls there are way too preppy for me. Plus, I can’t stand another minute of freshmen thinking they’re living through Gossip Girl,” he pretends to gag, swaying his body from side to side.

“Hey! Don’t hate. That show was ahead of its time,” you comment, brows raised.

“It IS! But I’m talking about the people acting as if they were a part of the show themselves. Like come on, you were probably five when it came out!” he exclaims.

​​"Fair enough," you nod. "You know who you should go for?" an idea flashes across your mind as you speak.

“Who?” he shifts closer, genuinely curious.

You wave towards you as another way of telling him to step even closer and cup your hand behind his ear before whispering, “Yuna.”

“What?! There’s no way!” he steps away, not expecting you would say your best friend’s name.

“Come on! You guys would look so hot together! What’s so ‘no way’ about that idea?”

Your old friend momentarily pauses, like he didn’t know what kind of question you asked. “She’d never go for me.”

“What? She used to have a crush on you! You were always around different girls so she never made a move,” you affirm. “You know how she was in high school,” you remind him of the girl who was once afraid to step out of her comfort zone.

“Are you serious? There’s no way that’s true! You’re straight up lying to my face right now,” he groans, looking as if he was going through a mental crisis due to the news.

“I swear on my Loubitons that it’s true! Just talk to her,” you point to the back door. “She’s in the backyard. I’m sure she would love to catch up.”

He brings a hand to his chin, soothingly rubbing with his index, “You do love those shoes…”

“More than myself, so come on! The times ticking!” you press him further, and his eyes light up when he realizes the words you’re feeding him might actually be true.

“You know what, fuck it.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Acting like a true alpha male!” you jump up and down, probably with more excitement than he has.

He chuckles at your words, “Okay. Okay. Let’s hang out and catch up this week. Let me know when you’re free.”

“Okay now go!” you try not to hold him back longer than he needs to be.

“I”m go-”

Before you can properly bid goodbye, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away towards the narrow hallway of the home.

You see it’s Jisung after checking, and he’s definitely on a mission by the way he doesn’t utter a word. Instead, he drags you through the hallway and finally halts his steps at the sign of your bedroom door.

“Jisung, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, he doesn’t let up on your wrist, and definitely doesn’t spare you a glance until you’re both in the room with the door shut behind your back. It’s almost pitch black in the room, and the only light source is the hallway lights illuminating underneath the crack of the door. Jisung finally lets go of your wrist when it’s just you two in your own space, and he brings that same arm above your head to anchor himself.

“Jisung.”

“Y/n,” his voice comes out hoarse, more playful. This was just what you wanted. He’s right here on a silver platter and you hadn’t even come close to building up the courage to approach him first.

Too bad you love to act dumb for the hell of it.

“What are you doing?” your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, noticing how close his face was to yours. It was the perfect opportunity. Taeyong was probably passed out along with the loud music all throughout the house. There’s no way anyone could hear a thing from inside the room.

“Just wanted you to myself,” he comments. You can smell the alcohol on his lips, assuming it was the reason behind his impatience– but don’t think he’s drunk due to his coherent speech and careful movements.

“You have me to yourself now. So what is it?” you gloat, acting as if you don’t notice him struggling to control himself.

“Sorry, I took you away from your little boyfriend. Look’s like you guys were having fun,” you can hear the slight anger in his voice, jaw clenching following the statement.

You roll your eyes in order to suppress a grin, the alcohol influencing you to play games, “Hyuck isn’t my boyfriend, just an old friend. Remember him?”

He notices the hint of playfulness in your eyes, wanting to just fuck it out of you. But he’s waited too long to do this, and there have been too many interrupted moments, so he leans into patience for resolve. “Oh, I must have missed something babe.”

You shift your face closer to him to prove your point once again, “He calls everyone that! Go up to him, he’ll literally call you babe.”

“Hmm,” Jisung hums. “Should I call him Hyuck too?”

Your eyes shoot to his plushy lips, his jealousy turning you on, but you don’t back down just yet, “If you heard that, then you must’ve heard the part where I told him to go for Yuna.”

“I checked out the moment you were calling each other pet names, baby,” he leans his hips against you, eyes evident with desire even in the darkness.

“Well, it’s definitely different coming from you,” you give him what he wants to hear, but it’s ultimately the truth.

Jisung pulls back just to lean down against your ear, “Different, how?”

It’s like he knows the power he has over you when he’s using that tone, including the fact that you feel him between your legs only slightly hard. It’s definitely bigger than you previously thought, the excitement shooting to your core, “I’m not spelling it out for you, baby.”

The name has him bringing his face back to where it was before, cocking a brow. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Play games. Don’t fuck with me because if you are, I’m gonna lose it,” he seethes, all control he previously displayed being lost in an instant.

You began narrowing the gap between the two of you even more, your noses brushing against each other. Jisung falters slightly as you do so, his hand landing on your hip. He's noticeably less in control than when he initially encircled you in the room, taking in every inch of you as you jut your hips forward.

He groans, struggling to keep up with what you've been doing.

"I'm not fucking with you," you say, holding his chin with your thumb and index finger, tilting his head and maintaining eye contact. "Just giving you what you want."

Jisung doesn’t know how you tempt while looking so innocent. If he’s being honest with himself, he never holds a sliver of command when you’re present. “You’re hot as fuck,” he mutters, trying to maintain a normal breathing pattern.

"You're hotter," your lips nearly touch at the movement. You're grinning ear-to-ear, but it's short-lived as Jisung grabs your nape and presses his lips to yours. This kiss is nothing like the previous one, and you want to drown in him. You press your mouth even harder on his, and he responds by positioning his entire weight against your body. You’re actually somewhat sober this time around and take notice of the piercing at the corner of his lips. The silver metal grazing over your lips provides a cold sensation to the hot atmosphere, and you push down a moan at the feeling.

He’s such a good kisser, it surprises you but doesn’t at the same time. The boy you used to know was so different than the one in front of you now.

When you set your arms around his neck to play with his locks, he grabs a hold of your waist. You're drowning, arching your back to relieve the tension in your body as the kiss deepens. Jisung licks your lips, and you easily accept his tongue, lips fighting against his. His tongue dances with yours, getting sloppier by the minute, ready to rip each other's clothes off.

He taps the back of your leg with his hand, signaling for you to jump. You do so without breaking contact with his lips, and he smiles against yours. The taste of alcohol in his mouth ignites something within you, along with the scent of his washed hair intertwined with the cologne he’s wearing.

Jisung slowly sets you down against the mattress, slotting himself between your legs before he pulls back for air. “You look submissive as fuck right now. Is that what you’re into? Being dominated?” he purrs, fingers playing with the waistline of your pants.

“Only if you like to dominate.”

The switch in his head flips, and he uses one hand to unzip your jeans to slowly run his fingers over your clothed clit. Your toes curl at the sudden pressure to your sensitive core that's been begging to be touched. The thin material of your panties doesn’t do much to shield his touch, but one thing’s for sure, if it feels this good, you can’t imagine how it’d feel when it’s not just a tease.

“Fuck,” you pant, moving your hands underneath Jisung’s shirt.

“What?” he asks, moving down to your neck. The sensation of his warm tongue against your neck has your skin igniting goosebumps all over. “I can’t hear you. Already falling apart?”

“N-no,” you stutter, knowing damn well that anything done to you will be the actual end. It seems like he wants to win the moment he brings his red and swollen lips back onto yours, sparing any niceties. He’s smothering you, ruthlessly kissing you to no end. But when you become lost in his lips once again, Jisung slips his hand underneath the band of your underwear to touch your pussy head-on.

“Jisungg,” you say against his mouth.

Of course, he doesn’t let up, circling your bud, knowing exactly where to touch you even though this is the first time you’ve done this with him. It’s nothing, but feels like so much, your thighs attempting to close around his hand.

He’s still attacking your mouth with his, fingers trailing in an up-and-down motion between your folds. It surprises you, and you moan against his mouth, unable to maintain the same pattern with your lips. “Fuck, you’re already so wet,” he lets go of your mouth with a pop, groaning at the arousal coating his fingers.

“Please, Jisung. I need you,” you whimper, unable to take any more of the mere seconds of pleasure he’s giving you. You don’t even look down as he slides your pants off along with your panties in one motion. He tsks, lowly enunciating a small, “So impatient.”

Without anything in the way, he doesn’t waste time plunging his fingers into your pussy, groaning at the way the muscle tightly clamps around his fingers– and it shoots straight down to your core, never getting enough of how deep his voice is.

The pleasure you’ve been trying to grasp is finally reached, a gasp spilling from your lips once he curls his fingers inside you. Your hands have found their way to his back, fingers digging deep into his skin and he hisses at the slight pain.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs against your ear while his fingers begin to speed up in pace. You’re bucking your hips up, wanting to meet him halfway in order to reach euphoria. “I w-want it,” you cry.

“Want what?” he asks, voice too soft for the motions he’s enacting.

“Want you. Want you so bad,” you moan, throwing your head back when he hits a certain spot. It feels too good to stop, and every part of your body tingles at the pleasure.

You want to sob at the feeling it brings you, his fingers, mercilessly driving in and out of your cunt, while his thumb circles your clit. Your stomach feels tight from all the stimulation, and his body pressed against yours makes you feel hot all over. What you don’t notice is Jisung’s watching every movement on your facial features, loving the way your brows scrunch and how your pretty lips open up every time he hits a certain spot.

The band in your lower abdomen is on the verge of snapping, and the fact that he's above you doesn't help. Jisung's hair still falls perfectly, occasionally brushing the tip of his nose. He’s so fucking hot, you can’t hold back. You can't stop the orgasm from reaching your body simply by the way he feels on your body and looks above you.

“P-please,” you beg.

At the feeling of your pussy tightening around your fingers, he digs into your cheek, bringing your face back towards his. “Come on, you can do it. Cum,” he demands.

“F-fuck! I-I’m gonna–” you scream, body convulsing as your orgasm washes over you. He doesn’t stop his movements until you’re whining for him to stop. Pulling his coated fingers out, just to bring it to his lips.

As the climactic high wears off, your body becomes limp, but the image of Jisung bringing his plump lips to wrap around his fingers leaves you wanting more. You nearly squeak when he groans at the taste, letting go of his fingers with a pop. "Mmm," Jisung moans. "You taste so good."

“Here, have a taste baby,” he smirks, bringing those same digits to swipe motions at your core. You whimper at the sensitivity, the buzzing feeling still present. “Open,” he commands.

You listen, sticking out your tongue for him to insert them into your mouth. The wet muscle swirls around his fingers, finally closing around them, and you gag when he presses further into your mouth, teasing your throat. “Good girl.”

It’s so arousing that you intend to get up from your original position beneath him, but he catches your wrists and pins them over your head to keep you in place. Maybe it's the unfulfilled horniness from all the other times he’s tried to get you under him, but it's got you whining and squirming beneath him for his tolerance. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this was gonna happen,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off your body.

His hot breath fans against your face, “Did you?” He begins to trace the contours of your body, slipping underneath your shirt on his way up. “No,” it’s a weak response, body twitching when he starts massaging your breasts. You had just experienced an unearthly orgasm, but everything Jisung does just causes your cunt to clench around nothing, and it’s only once out of a million times since he walked through the door.

“Just fuck me,” you plead, feeling his thick cock prodding at the side of your thigh.

“You sure?” he asks once more for confirmation.

“Yes, now hurry,” your whine turns into a pout, and he chuckles at your impatience.

“Do you have a condom in your room?”

“Fuck no, I’m on birth control.” He groans at the information, already quick to tug his cock out of its confines.

And just like that, Jisung slowly inches his cock into you. “Oh,” you cry at the fullness. He’s stretching you out so well, and the slight burn just adds fuel to the fire.

“Holy shit,” he sighs. “You’re so tight,” to ease the tightness, his fingers are already making their way back to your bud, circling in slow motions, “Relax for me pretty.”

You nod, eyes rolling back into your head when he slowly begins to move. “Fffuck,” he curses, his grip moving to your waist the moment your legs instinctively wrap around his. He feels so fucking good inside you and you regret with every ounce of your being you both didn’t do this sooner. You should’ve jumped him when you had the chance because fuck. How are you going to stop now? “You feel so fucking good,” he groans at the sensation.

“Ji–sung,” you moan, “Faster.” Your walls clench around his hard cock dragging against your walls, speeding up in pace and you fully lose it. The lewd sounds of skin slapping echo through the bedroom, and Jisung just swallows your pour of moans. He eventually listens to your request, practically nailing you into the mattress. It feels so good, the sounds coming from him, the feel of his cock pulling out, leaving the tip, just to roughly thrust back inside. You don’t know how much more you can take.

The thin silver chain he always wears around his neck dangles right before your eyes, and even in your fucked out state, you can’t stop looking at Jisung. The sweat on his forehead causes the front pieces to stick, the glow of sex already peeking through. “This is what you get,” he spits, but you can tell he’s slightly holding back. “This is what you get for all the times you fucking ran away. When I could’ve fucked you dumb like you want.”

Jisung’s name was the only thing coherent as he drills into you, squealing at a particular thrust of his hips. He’s so deep inside you, tip faintly against your cervix. “You’re cock’s s-so big,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision. The higher the tension builds in your stomach, the more Jisung continues to destroy you. “Jisung, fuck!”

“You like it hard huh? Want me to make your pussy mine?” His dirty words only have you holding onto him tighter, digging the heel of your feet into his spine. It’s too bad you can’t respond, your brain a puddle of mush at this point, cock going too fast for you to think about anything else. The bed frame knocks against the walls as the bed shakes but there’s no room to worry about that. Especially when he’s hitting every spot inside you perfectly.

“Answer me,” he grunts as your moans grow higher in pitch, unable to take it much longer.

“Y-yes, it’s a-all yours,” your body jolts after every movement, carving pleasure all over his skin. The thread that holds on for dear life is on the verge of snapping, and you wail before your second orgasm can send you crashing down.

It was so easy for Jisung to slide in and out of your pussy, your dripping arousal coating his cock perfectly. “Ji–” you attempt to warn him, but he already made his way back to your clit, pressing rough circles. You begin to babble random sounds, unable to form coherent words when he’s impaling you.

“Yes!” A shriek tears itself from your throat at your orgasm, and your toes curl at the high that takes over you yet again tonight. Your body spasms, and your mind stuck in a haze when he continues stuffing your achy cunt with him.

“Holy shit,” it’s almost impossible for Jisung to keep going when you’re clamping down on him like a vice, keeping him from completely being able to leave.

“Inside, cum inside, Jisung,” you plead when his hips begin to stutter. After a few more thrusts, he fully moans, painting your insides. “Fuck,” It feels even more full than before, if that was even possible and you whimper from the overstimulation from the last few movements. After his orgasm is at its resolution, he slumps into your form, not bothering to pull out.

You’re both just lying there trying to catch your breath, and it’s somewhat serene. The music combined with the vague sound of murmurs could be heard from outside and that’s when you remember that there were indeed a bunch of individuals present too. Maybe they heard you guys fucking, and Jisung seems to have similar thoughts when he raises his head to murmur something. “I forgot to lock the door.”

Your eyes shoot wide open in response, “What? Are you serious? Someone could walk in to you butt-ass naked!”

You’re actually alarmed, but he just stares back at you, his mouth turning into a wide grin. “Nah, I’m just playin',” he laughs.

You chuckle along with him, playfully slapping his shoulder because of his unseriousness. “You’re so annoying.”

“Get used to it baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

[rangerbarbz]

Mail Call

Here is my first Stan fluff because my mans deserves some love. Let me know what y'all think and thank you so much for all the support. I love you forever babes <3 (I didn't look over this so i apologize if there's any grammatical errors or typos)

“Mail Call”

You worked for the Post Office at Gravity Falls, Oregon, and you absolutely loved it. It was a relatively easy gig that had great benefits. Plus, you got to meet some “interesting” people to say the least. One of those people was the owner of the Mystery Shack himself, Stan Pines. 

You delivered mail to the Mystery Shack every day but Sunday, so you saw him quite a bit. The first time you met him, he happened to be outside with a young boy and girl who you assumed were his grandchildren. You parked your mail truck beside the mail box and reached behind you for a package addressed to 618 Gopher Road. 

Your presence caught the attention of the young girl who began running over to you. The older man was right behind her with an unhappy expression on his face. “Good afternoon! Is this for you, sweetie?” you asked the girl. She was beaming at you with a glimmer in her eyes. 

“Yup! Thank you mail lady!” She snatched the package excitedly from you and started to turn around, but was blocked by the older man who now had his arms crossed. 

“What is that and how did you pay for it?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows together. You were surprised by the depth and raspiness of his voice. It was quite attractive, if you were being honest. 

“It’s pig shaped cookie cutters for my new baking show I’m filming with Waddles, and I paid for it with your credit card. Okay, bye!” she said all in one breath. Before he could even respond, she was bolting around him to get inside the house. The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Is she your granddaughter?” you asked. He looked at you like he had forgotten you had been standing there. 

“Ah no. Mabel’s actually my grand niece” He chuckled. “Good kid when she’s not spending my money.” 

You laughed and glanced up at the broken sign above you two. “I’ve actually never been here before. You work here?” 

He scoffed. “Work here? I own this place, toots. I’m Mister Mystery himself.” He was grinning from ear to ear. You held your hands up in defense.

“Oh, I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a celebrity,” you replied jokingly. He laughed in return.

“Name’s Stan Pines.” He held out his hand towards you. You smiled and reached out towards him. The size difference between you two was made even more obvious when you wrapped your hand around his to shake it. You introduced yourself to him, but he raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer to you. You realized that he had not heard you and repeated yourself. 

“Huh. Pretty name,” Stan said, releasing his gentle grip. You let your hand fall to your side and began to play with a stray thread from the seaming of your work pants. Was he making you nervous?

“Thank you, Stan. Yours too.” He laughed once again and gazed down at his shoes. You suddenly heard a fire alarm blaring from an open window followed by black smoke.

Stan groaned. “I better go see what the hell that kid’s doing. I, uh. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Hopefully with no more packages that is.”

You giggled. “I cannot guarantee any more packages, but I will 100% be seeing you tomorrow.” 

He winked at you. “I’ll be looking forward to it.” You felt your cheeks grow hot as you gave him a little wave goodbye and entered your mail truck. He was giving you a toothy grin and waving back at you. What you didn’t see was him wiping the sweat from his brow and palms. Very few people made Stan Pines nervous, and you had become one of them. 

The next few weeks, you continued flirting back and forth with each other. It became the highlight of your day when you stopped at his mailbox to already see him standing there. He always asked you how your day was before telling you some outrageous story. Some days it was about a kooky visitor at the Mystery Shack while others it was You enjoyed listening to his gravelly voice and watching his borderline theatrical gestures as he spoke. 

He was undeniably sexy for a man his age. His glasses accentuated his strong jaw, and his thick ashy hair was to die for. You also found his blunt personality and his confidence to be alluring. You only ever saw him in his Mr. Mystery suit, but you weren’t complaining. It helped show off those muscles from his boxing days, and he always looked so sophisticated.

One day when you drove your usual route around Gravity Falls and stopped at the shack, he wasn’t there. You frowned and looked around to see if maybe he was walking up to you. Alas, you couldn’t find him. You put his electric bill in his mailbox and left wondering where he could be. 

You eventually returned to the post office after tapping anxiously on your steering wheel the entire time driving back. You stepped out of your mail truck and walked into the office to begin sorting packages. 

The bell above the door jingled meaning someone had walked in. “Hello, welcome to the Gravity Falls Post- Stan?” You had turned around to see him standing sheepishly in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. He was missing his fez and you got to see his thick gray hair. In his hands, he was holding an envelope decorated with shiny, brightly-colored stickers.

A slight blush started to spread across his face. “Hey, Doll. Sorry I didn’t see ya earlier today. I was working on this letter.” His eyes wouldn’t meet you. This wasn’t the suave man you usually spoke to. 

You grinned. “Stanley, you know you could’ve just put that in the mailbox, and then I would’ve come to get it, right?” He snorted and shook his head.

“Yes, smartass, I am aware.” He approached the counter that you were standing behind. “I came here because this letter is for you.” You could feel your face heat up as he handed you the sparkly envelope still not looking at you. 

“You… You wrote me a letter? Why?” you asked, running your fingers over the pink letters that spelled your name. Stan then turned his head to you and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Look, I, uh,” he paused, “I like you. Our talks make me… happy. And… Oh just read the damn letter! That’s why I wrote it anyway. I’m no good at these things.” He crossed arms in frustration. He scoffed. “If you don’t feel the same, that's fine. I mean who would? Especially-”

“Stan!” you interjected. His eyes met yours. You gave him a reassuring smile. “I like you, too. Like a lot. Between the looks and personality, it was impossible not to fall.” You couldn’t believe you just said that last part out loud. Hopefully you didn’t scare him off. 

Stan gave you a toothy smile and rubbed the back of his neck. His face was beet red. Frankly, it was very satisfying to see him so flustered. “Well, thank you, Doll. You’re a babe, too. Inside and out.” 

You giggled at his strange way of complimenting you. “Thank you, Stan. You’re a sweetheart. I can’t wait to read this letter on company time.” 

Stan laughed. “That’s my girl,” he said as he began walking out the door. He opened it and before he left he said, “You should come over after your shift is done. I know Mabel is dying to hear what you thought of her handiwork there.” 

“I’ll be there.” 

“Good. I’ll see you then, Doll.” He gave you a slight wave and shut the door behind him. You could hear the sound of him yelling “YES!” from the other side. As soon as he peeled off in his Diablo, you carefully opened the envelope to reveal a piece of notebook paper with just as many stickers. It said in the same pink ink your name was written:

Dear Y/N,

I hope you don’t think I’m some dork for writing you a letter instead of telling you face to face how I feel about you. I’m a little rusty in the romance department. I wanted to tell you that I always look forward to our talks. I never thought I would crush on someone who delivers me bills and tax forms. What are the odds?

You make me feel young again. I like how you cut up with me and how you don’t treat me like some old man. I like how kind you are to the kids and how you make my pacemaker work extra hard. I really hope you will come around more often. I also wanted to invite you on a date this Saturday night out of town. I’ll pick you up. You do enough driving. Plus, only tools don’t pick up their date. 

Love, 

Stanley Pines

P.S. I think you’re cute in your work uniform despite what you think. 

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is training you on interrogation techniques and thinks you’re a lost case. He’s wrong.

———————————————————————

He unfolds a case of what looks like surgical equipment on the wooden table.

“Are you going to check my teeth for cavities, Lt.?” You joke, but he doesn’t laugh. He never does.

He picks up something that looks like a wrench and shows it to you.

“What’s this for?” He asks, to which you reply, with the utmost confidence that it looks like that tool your grandfather used when you were a kid to break the bathroom door because you locked yourself in there.

He shuts his eyes and holds his breath.

“See, I didn’t want to eat my vegetables, and-”

“Enough.”

“That’s what I told them; no more veg-”

“Stop with the focken veggies.”

“You don’t like them either, huh?”

He lets out a long exhale and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t think you’re fit for this.” He finally says.

But you are. There's a reason why you are here, and it’s because you’re damn good at your job. Sure, you never learned how to conduct an interrogation the way Ghost understands—in a physical and rather brutal manner—but, you had your ways.

“I beg to differ, Lt.” You oppose him.

“You can beg as much as you want, soldier,” he replies, “but you’ll never be able to make someone beg for mercy.”

You look at the interrogation tools on the table and point at them. “These are unethical, by the way.”

“These,” he says, “serve a purpose for the job and are perfectly legal.”

“So is farting in an elevator,” you reply. “Totally legal to do, yet sorta sucks for everybody else.”

“You should have gone to law school if you’re so passionate about ethical matters,” he says, “but you’re definitely not fit to be here.”

“The captain thinks otherwise.”

“The captain is wrong.” He mumbles under his breath.

“What’s that?” You ask, cupping your palm over your ear, “Are you defying the captain now, Lieutenant Riley?”

“No, I’m jus-”

“That’s against the Army Leadership Code,” you state and shuffle through your bag to get the rulebook. You open it up and clear your throat. He looks at you with that tool in his hand, eager to start plucking your fingernails one by one. Instead, he chooses words.

“I know what the guide says-”

“PAGE 45, PARAGRAPH SIX,” you shout like you’re reporting for duty, “IF AN OFFICER DISOBEYS THE-”

“Stop this instance!” He cries, but you hear none of it. You carry on undisturbed by his roaring voice. You’ll recite the entire book if that’s what’s needed. He leaves the tool on the table and approaches you, posing as an authority figure and yelling in your face. You stop for a minute and turn to look at him, explaining that what he’s doing right now is also against the code, and continue reading out loud.

“FAILURE TO OBEY A MILITARY ORDER BY A HIGHER UP-”

He throws his head up, closes his eyes, and raises his hands up to his temples.

“For the love of god and all that is holy, soldier,” he cries, “please stop talking.”

You close the booklet and throw it on the table. There’s dead silence. You approach him with a smug face and lower your gaze—but not your head—to the ground.

“Well, guess what, Lt.” You ask, and he opens his eyes to look at you.

“You just begged,” you whisper, “and I didn’t have to use any of your,” you gesture with a sneer at the tools on the table, “cheap cutlery.”

He keeps looking at you, confused. You pick a scalpel from the case.

“I thought you didn’t like my tools, soldier.” He says.

“I don’t,” you reply and pull an apple out of your bag, “but I need to cut my fruit.”

He throws his hands to his sides and looks at you, defeated, as you peel the apple.

You stop midway.

“Is the scalpel sterilised?” You ask.

“Of course, it’s sterilised!” he shouts, “we always sterilise our tools as per the rulebook!”

———————————————————————

[melancholiaincarnate]

wine and peach chapstick

「 in which ᵎᵎ 」 yuji itadori's mean (and quite attractive) uncle comes to pick him up from school (again) and takes you out on a date

「 words ᵎᵎ 」 2454

「 author's note ᵎᵎ 」 hii :3 sorry for the horrendously long wait for part two of this, i was veryyy unhappy with this, (and still am) but fuck it we ball LOL. that being said, requests r open, check my masterlist, and keep on the lookout for something spooky coming soon.....

「 warnings ᵎᵎ 」 sukuna ryomen, mentions of smoking, three or four slight nsfw references

choso looked at sukuna with a raised brow as the other man pulled on his shoes. "where are you going?" he questioned. choso was currently standing by the door, car keys in hand as he looked curiously down at sukuna, who was tying his shoes.

"to pick up the brat. where else would i be going?" sukuna scoffed as he tied his left shoe, then switched to the right, "i swear sometimes y' don't fuckin' think."

"i thought you said you were never going to pick him up again." choso sighed, hanging the keys back up by the door on the key hook that read 'live laugh love'. "you told me yesterday - verbatim, i am only doing this once, i fuckin' hate the kid." choso slipped off his shoes, hanging his jacket back up on the coat rack.

"yeah? well - plans have changed." sukuna shrugged, adjusting his lip piercing with his tongue before running a hand through his hair. "the brat's teacher is actually cute. i like her. i wan' see her again."

"not his teacher," choso's sigh is strained, "sukuna you can't mess around with yuji's teacher." the male pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "what happens if it ends badly? then yu's gonna be caught in the crossfire and -"

"you worry too much." sukuna picked up two helmets, one large and one small (the smaller one adorned with stickers), before stuffing the smaller one in his backpack. "shut up already, will ya? fuckin' - talk too fuckin' much." he didn't give choso a chance to reply before he slammed the door and swung a leg over his motorcycle.

the drive to yuji's preschool was not a far one - which sukuna, in fact, minded. his stomach felt weird and his hands were a little shaky, (and sweaty), and he would've preferred a bit of a longer ride in hopes that whatever this fuckass feeling was would go away.

helmet tucked between his arm and ribs, he entered the daycare, showed id, signed, and walked up the stairs to your classroom. he could hear the sounds of you singing a song with the kids, and when he approached the doorway, he took a deep breath to steady the growing weirdness in his belly.

nervousness was not something that ryomen sukuna felt. ever. but seeing you, singing and dancing and bouncing a small child on your hip, caused his heart rate to spike to one billion - if that was even possible.

he leaned against the doorway for a bit, (so he could collect himself), just watching with a pleased smile on his face, until you noticed him. "oh! mr. sukuna." the entire class turned to look at him and the smile dropped instantly, replacing with a frown. as much as sukuna may like you, he had a reputation to uphold, and that was yuji's mean uncle.

he didn't reply and instead just nodded once. he tried to look as chill as possible - what was wrong with him? why was he trying so hard? anger flared for only a moment in his chest, but it was soothed instantly by your voice telling the kids softly that it was playtime.

"kuna!" yuji shouted, shaking the boy next to him. "kuna came to pick me up again! megumi, look!" sukuna wondered how the raven-haired boy's brains weren't totally shaken up.

"nice." megumi blinked, letting yuji take his excitement out on him. even throughout all the shaking, his expression and tone stayed blank.

"yu, honey, go get your stuff." your voice sent shivers down his spine. he shook it off, watching as you walked to him with nothing but grace.

"good afternoon. it's nice to see you again." you smile. fuck, sukuna was so gone.

his chest burned as he spoke. "hey there, doll. wore this for me?" he leaned off the wall and picked at the hem, to which you rolled your eyes and swat his hand away. "it's nice, i like it. suits ya. makes your ass look fat."

"i didn't wear it for you." lie. you did. "and watch your language around the children." you scolded, squinting at him.

"kuna today i-" yuji bounded up to the two of you, and tried to show him a paper, but sukuna placed a hand on his head to quiet him. "ope-"

"quiet, brat. i'm speaking. we talked about this - you don't talk when i'm talking." he scoffed and yuji frowned as he looked up at sukuna. "go wait by the door. or - go talk to your friends or .. whatever you do here. i don't care - just stay in my sight."

yuji smiled and nodded quickly, heading back to his friends to talk to them before he leaves. you both watch as yuji talks animatedly to megumi and as megumi just listens, and then sukuna turns to you as you speak.

"you speak to him so mean." you comment, handing him the pen. he takes it, but lets his hand brush against yours for longer than it needs to. "he's nothing but a sweetheart!"

"he's a spoiled brat, that's what he is. choso and his father do nothing but spoil him, tch." he scoffs as he signs his name underneath his signature from yesterday. it looks identical. "i could do the same for you, if you'd let me." he's smooth, you notice, and he hands you your pen back with a smirk on his face. "spoil you, treat you right. hey, i bet you never had a man make you-"

"sukuna! the kids!" you swat at his arm, resulting in a laugh from him. "you're lucky you're not bad looking." sukuna feels his chest swell with pride. "i get off at five, if you want to pick me up." you roll your eyes as you place the pen down on the table with a smile.

"i'll be here, doll." sukuna grins widely, brushing a piece of hair away from your face. "hope you're not afraid of a motorcycle. can't drive a car but i've got me a real nice bike." he fails to mention that he is actually banned from driving the itadori/kamo car because he has crashed it five or six or seven too many times.

"mm, i think i'll live." you laugh, right as sukuna barks for yuji to come. yuji does so, waves goodbye to you, and with a wink, sukuna leaves.

"i'll see ya at five sharp, doll."

relief floods his system, and he finds himself smiling as he puts yuji's helmet on, and picks the boy up to put on the motorcycle. the drive home is usual - yuji yapping about his day, (mostly about megumi), while sukuna drives as safely as he can. sure, the kid is a brat, but at the end of the day, sukuna still loves him, and wants nothing but his safety.

"hey, yu!" choso's face lights up - and so does yuji's - as the two brothers see each other. "how was your day?"

"good!" yuji runs over to choso and he picks the boy up fairly easily, and places him on his hip. "it was good! today megumi and i-" sukuna slips off his shoes, and tunes them out, not wanting to hear the same spiel he just barely heard over the wind.

he goes upstairs to his room to freshen up. although you'll be wearing the same dress, he doesn't want to show up in the same outfit, so he changes, wetting his hair and quickly running a brush and some gel through it. he thought he looked pretty good, and his brows furrow when he realizes that he hopes you'd think he looks good too.

five pm rolls around fairly quickly, and you hear the rumble of the motorcycle before you see him. as he swings himself off, you wave slightly and he responds with a head nod. he takes the helmet off as he approaches you.

"hey doll. what happened here?" he places a warm palm on your torso, where splatters of paint decorate your dress.

"ah, maki and mai got into a paint fight.. and i got caught in the crossfire." you sigh, looking down. his hands are big and - god they're attractive. you feel a small heat building in your stomach before you shake it off, and smile. "so - ryomen, was it? it feels too .. formal to call you sukuna outside of my working hours. it's like if you called me miss."

nobody ever called him ryomen. "nobody calls me ryomen." he removes his hand before slinging his backpack off and placing a second helmet into your hands. it's yuji's but he figures you can fit. "if you want to call me ryomen, do as you please. that's fine by me."

"what if i call you ryo?" you grin up at him and he quirks a brow as he rolls his eyes and begins walking back toward his idling motorcycle. "i like ryo better than ryomen."

he won't admit it but he likes the way the nickname rolls off your tongue - sweet like honey. "i don't care. you comin' or not, doll?"

he helps you get on the motorcycle and as your hands wrap around his torso, your fingers itch to run up and down his stomach. you control the urge though. he's fit and you can feel the outline of his abs beneath his tight shirt.

"ready?" sukuna calls, as he revs the bike, "make sure that helmets on tight, y'hear?"

"it's on!" you shout back - and within an instant the two of you are speeding down the road. you can feel his stomach move with laughter as your arms tighten around him instinctually.

at a red light, he turns to face you, a hand coming off the bars to rest on your upper thigh to rub gently. "y'alright?"

"m fine!" you nod, and he laughs again, "how much longer?" you wouldn't admit it, but you were a little afraid at how fast the two of you were going.

"just a bit longer." you feel his chest vibrate as he hums and the motorcycle is off again as soon as the light turns green. you bury your face in his back, inhaling his slight cigarette and the scent of his cologne. he smells good, he's hot, he has a motorcycle, for christ's sake. you fucking scored.

within five minutes, he was parking his bike and helping you off. his hands wrapped around your waist, firm. you seemed to be at a bar in the city. "look at you." he tsks, his hands coming to smooth your hair down. "such a mess." he tucks a hair behind your ear as he finishes. despite his heavy hands, his touch is incredibly gentle.

"thanks, ryo." he huffs at the nickname (his chest is tight with warmth), and retracts his hands, before grabbing yours and leading you into the bar. men call out his name and he barely acknowledges them. as he leads you to the booth, you notice eyes following him, and then eyes curiously peeping at you. some part of yourself wonders how many other girls sukuna has brought here, and if you're just another tally to these other men.

"you're very well known here." you comment, shaking off the thought. he shrugs, lighting up a cigarette. before taking a puff, he offers you, but you shake your head. "i don't smoke."

"been comin' here since i was eighteen." he angles his head, trying to blow the smoke away from you so you don't inhale. your heart warms at the sight. hot and thoughtful? you're sure he's not even a real man.

"eighteen? isn't that underage?" you tease as a man comes by and pats sukuna on the back. "hello." you acknowledge him, and he just raises a brow and keeps walking after sukuna daps him up. another weird look that you decide to shake off.

"you gonna snitch?" sukuna scoffs, as another man approaches the table. this time, the man drops off a tray. on the tray is a bottle of liquor, some cups of ice rimmed with salt, and limes.

"can i get you anything else, sukuna?" the man asks.

"ask her, not me." he blows another puff, again, away from you. "she's runnin' my tab tonight." he nods at you and as the man explains what they have, you take an order of red wine and some cheese fries.

"wine and cheese fries?" sukuna snubs the cigarette out on the tray that was just brought. "the cheese fries i can deal with but - wine? really?"

"i don't drink much!" you protest. sukuna begins to pour himself a cup of liquor, before he stops.

"not gonna drink." he sighs, placing the ice cup back on the tray, "i gotta take ya home. but in exchange, i want some cheese fries. that a deal?" his finger circles the salt rimmed glass and then his finger comes to his mouth to lick off the salt.

you agree with a smile. despite his incredibly rough exterior, sukuna cares. deeply.

the rest of the night goes surprisingly smoothly. while sharing the cheese fries, (and getting cheese on your dress), you get to know more about ryomen, and he gets to know more about you.

after another short motorcycle ride, you and sukuna find yourselves on your doorstep. he decides then that if picking up yuji every day from school was what he needed to do to see you - he'd do it. some part of him had already decided that the minute that he saw you, though.

"well, doll-" he starts, bringing a hand to rub his rough thumb against your lips, "surely you don't expect me to just leave you without a little reward? i took ya out, ya ordered wine, i drove ya home. i deserve a sweet treat, don't i?" his voice is low.

his tongue comes to dart between his lips and wet them, and there's an accompanying smirk. his lips don't touch yours until you nod though, and he tastes oddly sweet. he doesn't taste like cigarettes or the tiny sip of wine he had, but rather like the peach chapstick you'd watch him put on after leaving the bar.

neither of you really want to pull apart but you're both struggling for breath. sukuna's eyes flutter open when you disconnect and he lets out a little rough chuckle.

"if you weren't such a nice girl, i'd take you inside and have my way with you." he sighs, "but unfortunately, you're tolerable."

you laugh, and he shakes his head. "i'll see ya tomorrow, doll. keep yourself safe, hear me?" you nod, and he presses another quick kiss to your lips.

you think that's his way of telling you he likes you.

[demonmarker]

Beautiful with you

Regina x Reader (Masc. Lesbian)

Chapter 1

Regina George. The Queen B of North Shore High, known for her dominance and the fact that anything she does is always for her self-gain, and you have absolutely nothing to do with her. Never had, never will, so you thought.

Like any other day you sat by yourself in the cafeteria at lunch, drawing in your sketchbook like you always did with your Doc Martin feet kicked up on the table, earbuds in with Bad Omens playing in your ear as you work on your latest idea for a new tattoo on the back of your neck when at the corner of your eye you see movement and… pink? You glance in the direction of the movement and see none other than THE Regina George clicking her fingers at you to get your attention. You had a small hallway crush on Regina. But who doesn't? You even have a realism drawing of her in your sketchbook, but you didn’t bother drooling over her or even bother trying to talk to her. You tried doing the whole friends thing when you were a kid and you were always left crying and humiliated, so it was a loner life for you and your sketchbook was the only friend you needed. Curiosity getting the best of you, you pulled out one of your ear buds showing she got your attention, “Regina” your voice low and husky since you never really talked much at school. “Oh my god finally,” your eyes narrow, not impressed by her opening line. “Come sit with us”, waving a beaconing hand. You lift one of your eyebrows up in suspicion, “Me? The tattooed lesbian loner freak? Sitting at the Plastics table? With the most popular and beautiful girls in the whole school? Yeah, I can see a red flag when I see it so… I’m going to pass.” Regina stuck her chest out proudly with a matching smile, “You think I’m beautiful?” You rolled your eyes and put your earbud back in your ear signalling that that was the end of their conversation. At the corner of your eye you see Regina get out of her seat and walk off, guessing you did the trick, no way was she really wanting to hang with you, like every other time it would probably have ended in a cruel prank that everyone but you found hilarious. Without warning your sketchbook was ripped out of your hands by the familiar blond using your book to swat your feet off the table, sitting where they once were. “Hey! What the fuck?!” Regina just held up her hand to silence you, and it. Fucking. Worked. The abruptness took you off guard. Queen B started flipping through your drawings, your cheeks going red knowing that the drawing you did of her is in there. “Hey, that’s private!” you tried snatching your art diary back but she was quicker, moving it out of your reach. “I don’t know why, these are surprisingly good. I was expecting stick figures at best, look you even coloured inside the lines.” Ignoring the insult your leg starts anxiously bobbing up and down rapidly from the anticipation of her discovering the drawing of herself, in that moment you’d rather defuse a bomb. Flicking another page Regina stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening and her mouth agape. The feeling of being so helpless to stop the inevitable made your anger rise, flashbacks of people laughing and humiliating you start running through your head. It wasn’t fair! This keeps happening again and again. Your anger gets the better of you and you abruptly get up from the table and storm off.

Getting to your locker, you attempt to enter the code into the lock but of course in you fit of rage you missed a number and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back as you smash your fist into the metal door “Fuck!”, removing your bloody fist from the now red dent in the locker door, you pinch the bridge of your nose as you feel a migraine coming on. “My god, you are such a drama queen!” the familiar voice of the cause of your anger exclaimed from behind. Your head snaps to see the blond beauty again, her eyes go to the bloody fist print you dented into your locker “Got it all out?” her eyebrows raised, seeing the blood, her eyes darted to your bloody knuckles hanging by your side. She gave an exaggerated sigh and grabbed you by the sleeve of your dark red leather jacket, “Come with me”, not like you had an option.

Pulling you out to the car park and to her red jeep she opened the passenger door and then the glove box grabbing a small first aid kit out, she held her hand out for your injured one and all you could do was watch in stunned silence as this woman–who everyone saw as the Queen Bitch herself–delicately cleaned and bandaged your injury. She glanced up at your confused expression “Stop looking at me like that you dork.” Being called out made your cheeks go red, instantly reacting you let out a “Sorry” like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “Wait, why am I apologizing? You started this, give me back my sketchbook!” tying the bandage’s knot she raised her hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t tell you to chuck a hissy fit and punch your locker now did I dummy? Say please and I’ll give you the sketchbook,” she grinned. Your eyebrows scrunched “No!” you snapped back. Lifting an eyebrow with a mischievous grin, she took a step closer to you while pulling your face down to hers, your faces barely inches apart, “Say. Please.” Your cheeks went beat red, being so close to the beautiful goddess you could smell her perfume and feel her breath on your face, all making you want to give into her, the want to obey your submissive side was almost overwhelming, “P-please”. Her grin grew, her hand still holding your collar pulled you the rest of the way to her lips. Those lips. Those soft, plump, intoxicating lips. You completely lose yourself, never wanting the kiss to end. She wraps her arm around your neck, her hand gently caressing the back of your head under your tied up black hair where your undercut is shaved almost to the skin. When you let a moan escape your throat you feel her something flat being pushed against your chest which you instinctively grab blindly. Pulling back, Regina ended the kiss by pulling on your lower lip with her teeth which you automatically moaned to. She put her forehead against yours reaching up she wipes her lipstick from your lips, softly whispering to your lips “Good girl”.

When you come down from cloud nine you see her already walking back to the main school building, Fuck, what just happened? You look down to the object in your hands and find your sketchbook with one page dog eared. You turn to the marked page which was the drawing of Regina, a message written in the open space of the page “You're kinda hot, come to my place after school today. Meet me by my car.” You couldn’t stop your heart from racing, Regina George just kissed you! And she wants to meet up with you again! The rational side of your brain kicked in and made you question if this was all some sort of trick, telling you to keep your walls up, scenarios like this don’t happen to loners like you. It’s not like you could hang out after school anyway.

Trying to get through all the scattering people at the end of school was always a nightmare but you manage to make your way to Regina’s jeep, the blond standing against the bright red car in waiting. Seeing you approach she straightens up “Hey Loser, you ready to go?” you roll your eyes at the nickname. “I’m sorry I can’t today.” She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And why not?” “I-“ you start but you hesitate, you look off into the distance as you argue with yourself whether to tell her the truth and let her in, no one knows what really goes on in your life and you liked that way it kept everyone safe. Or should you just brush it off and leave it at that? You release a sigh, “Would you be up to letting me show you?” Regina narrowed her eyes wondering if she should trust you or not “You’re not going to take me to some creepy warehouse and murder me are you? The pretty blond always dies first and you got the whole broody, loner killer vibe going on” she gestured to your whole person. You roll your eyes “Do you want to or not?” Chucking her hands up in defeat “Argh fine”, she walked to the passenger side of her car as you got in the drivers. Once comfortable you get a confused look on your face as you look at the dash, Regina looking at you with her own look of confusion, “Remind me again which one is the brake and which one is the accelerator”

The look of disbelief she gave you was priceless, “You can’t be serious” You cackle from her reaction, “I’m joking” you continue to laugh as she slaps your arm, already feeling at ease around her. “Don’t worry I’ve got my full license, your baby is safe with me.” “She fucking better be” she mumbled.

Ch.02 Ch.03

[wlntrsldler]

thinking of you're on your own, kid and luke x reader.

warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, luke being a simp, hurt, betrayal.

i. summer went away, still, the yearning stays.

your first summer at camp half-blood was a whirlwind, as you assumed it was for anyone who finds out that they are a child of a god. you were one of the older ones, you've come to learn soon after arriving. at seventeen, you were years behind many of the children who inhabited the camp. still, you were treated like anyone new who entered.

you were greeted by the head counselor of the hermes cabin-- luke, he said his name was. it was an easy enough name to remember, but you knew him as the boy whose eyes looked honey-brown in the sunlight, whose lopsided smile made you feel a pit in your stomach, and whose voice made your head spin.

you'd gone to summer camp before. you knew what it was like to have a summer crush. in the third grade, you met a boy named evan kim in asheville. he always had his nose buried in a book. his glasses would slip down the bridge of his nose and he pushed them up with his index finger without skipping a beat. you found comfort that you could sit beside him under the shade of the tree beside the dining hall, not saying a word, just reading.

but the haze of summer subsided as the leaves on the trees changed colors, and by september, you could hardly remember what he looked like. and when he didn't return to camp the following year, you forgot all about him.

but camp half-blood was different, of course it was. and luke was different, of course he is. he stayed with you longer than he had to, but you didn't know that at the time. after all, you were new. you didn't know that all luke had to do was show you around on your first day.

he found you sweet. and really pretty. he loved how the tips of your ears turned a shade of pink when he said your name (he said it too often after he learned it, it just felt right rolling off his tongue). he loved how you smiled at him, looking up at him (he was thankful that he had a growth spurt the summer before he met you), and the crinkles beside your eyes were on full display. he loved how you giggled his name when he did the stupidest things (he did it to make you laugh; chris rolled his eyes, fondly, every time.)

the entire summer, he spent glued next to you. the campers knew that if he wasn't at training or doing his duties, he would be wherever you were. that often meant sitting at your feet while you read under the tree by the lake. too often, you'd rarely get any reading done because luke would ask you questions about yourself. he asked about your life outside of camp (what's your parent like? what kind of school do you go to? do you have a boyfriend? when you answered no to the last one, luke internally cheered.) sometimes he'd read over your shoulder, or ask you to read an excerpt to him, but he never brought his own book to read. he much preferred to watch you.

when you were claimed by your godly parent, luke feared that you'd stop hanging out with him as often (or really, stop letting him follow you around like a love-sick puppy.) because you'd prefer your own siblings' company. but he let out a breath of relief when he found you sitting under the tree the following day, reading your book.

you heard his footsteps, ones you've grown to love, and the sounds of the grass crunching under the soles of his shoes.

you grinned at him (with the smile you reserved for him), "took you long enough, castellan. thought you weren't gonna show."

he took his usual spot sitting diagonally at your feet and smiled, "there's no place else i'd rather be."

so yeah, you'd been to summer camp before. you'd had summer infatuations before, but not like this. not like luke.

when it was time for you to head back home after summer ended, you promised to return the next summer. you promised him that you'd write letters and he made a joke about how it was just like those romance books you read. he didn't miss the way your eyes widened in shock at the comparison. unable to speak, you kissed his cheek goodbye.

at that, luke made a promise to himself that next summer, he'd tell you how he felt.

ii. i waited ages to see you there.

luke waited for your return that summer. he'd grown bigger over the months since you last saw him. he was more muscular, more confident. the girls at camp were taking notice of it. sure, luke had always been a good-looking guy, but there was something about him now that made his charm undeniable. (he would never admit it, but the entire time you two were apart, luke was dedicated to making himself better for you. he wanted to impress you.)

annabeth rolled her eyes at the new-found attention her brother was getting and made it her mission to humble him every chance she got. luke made it clear to her that the attention would never get to his head. there was something unspoken there, but annabeth knew. the only attention luke wanted was from you.

she found it cute, a little gross, but cute nonetheless, so she waited with luke at the entrance of camp-half blood for you. when the sun set and there was still no trace of you, annabeth didn't comment on how luke's shoulders were slumped as they walked into camp together.

luke had faced a lot of disappointment in his life. from not being the perfect child his father expected him to be, to returning to camp as a failure after his quest, he'd gone through a lot of disappointment; far too much for a nineteen-year-old to bear, but this one was the worst of it all.

he skipped dinner to retire to the hermes cabin early. he pulled out a shoebox from under his bunk, the place where he stored all the letters you sent him over the months you'd been apart. he read through them, trying to figure out if you gave any indication of not returning to camp. but there was none.

at the end of every letter, you had written a countdown until you were back at camp. luke's excitement grew as the numbers on the bottom of the page dwindled to a week, the last time you sent him a letter. the last letter was about your eighteenth birthday. you had dinner with your friends from home and received new books to read for when you were at camp. (luke had a top three; he was really hoping you'd read them to him.) in the letter, you also managed to sneak him a polaroid of you before you blew out the candles on your cake. on the bottom of the photo, in your lovely handwriting, you wrote: "for luke."

he kept the picture in his wallet since he first got it.

as he was reading through the letters again (the paper was falling apart between his fingers. he had re-read your letters too much over the months because he missed you so much), annabeth came running into the hermes cabin. she was out of breath and luke could barely understand her. but when your name, "another kid," "grover," and "hurt" left her lips, luke ran out of the cabin to find you.

when he saw you lying on the bed, bloodied and bruised, luke's heart stopped. he ran to you, distressed, and held your hand, only hoping that you'd feel his presence. when you gave his hand a weak squeeze, luke smiled under the tears that spilled from his eyes.

as others tended to your wounds, luke sat there patiently, not once letting go of your hand. when you were finally cleaned up, luke let his sleepiness take over. he fell asleep on the uncomfortable, wooden chair beside your bed, making sure that he was touching you at all times. when his hand cramped from holding yours, he stretched out his fingers, letting his thumb rest on the pulse point of your wrist. he wanted to make sure you were really there.

waking up to a slouching luke castellan, face buried in the crook of his elbow as he snored softly, was arguably the best way to wake up on your first day of camp. softly, you moved your hand from under him and ran your fingers through his messy curls. he stirred under your touch and woke.

"thought you weren't showing up," his voice was deep. he cleared his throat to get rid of the drowsiness. "waited for you at the door."

"as you can see, i was a little caught up," you tried to joke, but failed when you winced. "ow."

"are you okay?" luke was fully awake now. his brows threaded in concern, his hand finding yours again. "do you need anything?"

"'m okay," you whispered, "or i will be, after i heal."

"you'll tell me if you're not okay, right?"

"of course, luke." you said, smiling. "don't you have better things to do than watching me heal?"

"no, nothing important," he replied. you knew he was lying. "being here with you is where i need to be."

iii. something different bloomed.

"can you read to me?"

it was one of those hot, sticky days at camp, but luke refused to get up from where he was laying on your stomach. sweat dripped down from his forehead, but he made no effort to wipe it away. he was too comfortable.

"sure, luke," you couldn't say no to him. you read a passage from the book you were reading (the book was from his top three) as luke listened to you. he hummed when you read a particularly well-written line. he made no mention of when you paused to highlight something. he waited patiently when you struggled with a few lines. you read to him until your voice was hoarse.

"you're a great reader," he said after you were done. "i always had trouble reading. the words get jumbled in my head."

"i wasn't always good at it," you confessed, closing the book and placing it next to you. you looked down at luke only to find him already looking at you. in the sun, his freckles were more prominent. they littered across his face. "when i was younger, i really struggled with it and it frustrated me a lot. but because i can't live with not being good at something, i tried really hard to get better. 'm still not the best at it. there are still moments when the words don't make sense in my head, but i learned to take my time when that happens. if i mess up, then i try again."

luke had a feeling that that last part didn't just apply to reading. he admired that about you. in the short time that he'd known you, he saw how determined you were. last summer, when he taught you how to sword fight, you stumbled a few times but never fell down. he must've spent hours on end with you because you wanted to learn. when he saw you in the infirmary on the first night after the attack on percy, he was thankful that he did that (even if his joints ached for days after.)

"have you heard from percy?" your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "are they okay?"

luke swallowed, "yeah, i talked to him and annabeth."

"are they okay?"

"they're okay," luke felt his voice betraying him so he let out an awkward laugh, "they're like an old married couple now. they're always bickering."

he was thankful that you laughed along with him. it was good that you didn't suspect a thing. he wasn't ready to tell you, not yet. he got up from where he was lying and sat up to face you. you smiled at him, reaching over to wipe the sweat off his brow.

"i gotta tell you something," you mumbled, eyes now looking everywhere but him. "promise you won't get mad."

"could never be mad at you," he said. his voice was sincere then. he meant it. "what's on your mind, darling?"

"i think i love you."

luke's face dropped, which you took as a rejection. with tears in your eyes, you began to fumble your words. you quickly got up, picking up the book next to you, and said some ridiculous excuse about why you had to go. you were about five feet away from him when luke realized what just happened.

he sprung up from his spot and chased after you, calling out your name with each step. he stopped in front of you and grabbed you by the shoulders, "where are you going?"

"luke, i don't really think it's fair that you're asking me that when you just rejected me."

"when did i reject you?" he asked. he racked his brain trying to figure out if his voice had betrayed him.

"i saw your face, luke," you sighed. "it's fine. i should've known. you're still just being nice to me because you have to be. i just got into my head thinking that you might like me, too, but it's okay if you don't. really, it is! i just need some time to wallow and-"

"oh no," he shook his head, "i was only upset because i was supposed to do it first."

"huh?"

"i was gonna tell you how i felt this summer, but since the attack, i didn't know when the right time was." luke wanted to kiss the cute look of confusion off of your face. he laughed, "i think i love you, too. was just upset i didn't get to say it first."

"oh."

luke really wanted to kiss you then.

"you love me?"

"mhm," he grinned, stepping closer to you. he moved his grasp from your shoulders to your waist. he pulled you in, letting his lips ghost over yours. "i think i do."

you placed your lips on his.

iv. you're on your own, kid.

"luke, what are you saying?"

"he has a plan," he explained, eyes wide and begging. it was only a matter of time before annabeth alerted everyone about percy. about him. "he has a plan for us."

"luke, you're scaring me," you said, backing up from him until you felt your back hit a wall. your hand found the cool metal of the blade he got you. your fingers wrapped around it, making you flinch.

this wasn't right.

you let go of your blade, letting your hands fall to your sides.

"no, no, darling, don't be scared," he said, "please, just listen to me. there's no time."

luke saw tears in your eyes and he cursed himself for making you feel this way. he tried to comfort you with his smile, but for the first time, it didn't work. you just stared at him; the same look of terror etched across your features.

he frowned, pleading, "please, just come with me."

there was a flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. luke thought, for a moment, that you would take his outstretched hand, that you would follow him and disappear into the night with him, that you would fight with him.

"no, i'm sorry, luke," you shook your head, "i can't. i won't."

his ears were ringing. he dropped his hand at the same time all of the commotion outside began. he looked at you, then at the door, panicked. his time was up.

he was on his own.

[sachiko6243]

The Kings plaything - Part 1/2

Summary: After the dwarves have been captured, Thranduil decides to have a little fun with his wife, fulfilling his need to show of his greatest possesion.

Word count: 9223

Warnings: smut with plot, public fingering, exhibitionism, possessive Thranduil, Dom! Thranduil, sub! reader, slight hurt and angst because of something Thorin said, Minors DNI! This contains adult content

Pov Legolas:

The guards and I had captured the dwarfs that were mindlessly roaming through our lands. Right now, we had stripped them of their weapons and escorted them through the woods. Right before the big bridge that led towards the only door into Mirkwood, I stopped the parade, turning to look at the dwarves:

“You are now going to be brought in front of the king and his queen. Let me offer you some advice as to how to act in his presence. You bow when greeting him. You shall not speak unless asked to. Nor do you insult him or her majesty. And most importantly, don’t stare at her majesty.” I rattled down the points, but I was interrupted by the tallest dwarf, they addressed as their king: “Do not worry, none of us would want to see that disgusting elven pack of you anyway!”

Before I could even react, one of my guards already forced him to his knees, a blade against his throat. That seemed to enrage the others, a slight turmoil breaking out. I waited until my guards settled it, before I spoke again: “Careful of your words dwarf. She is the kings most precious possession. You do not want to anger him, by looking at her or insulting her even.”

One dwarf pressed himself through the ranks, until he stood right in front of me. He wasn’t reaching much above my waist and I had to suppress the instinct of kneeling down like I would do with a kid. “Why are we not to look at her?” He asked, nothing but curiosity filling his big brown eyes. I suppressed a laugh, still a small sly smile crossed my lips. “Things are run differently here. You will see for yourself.”

Then I just turned, not waiting for the dwarves to follow me. I knew my guards would simply force them to.

Pov Elanore:

I was sitting next to Thranduils throne beneath his feet on my pillow. It was my usual place between his legs, leaning against one of his thighs and relishing in his soft touches while covered in his cloak. Ever since I had married him some decades ago, we had slowly dipped more into showing our relationship openly. Knowing that the elves were a race loving their routines, the king openly showing his affection caused some stir. Especially, when that affection was interlaced with our power play.

But after a while the people had gotten used to it, even smiling a bit, when he softened around me. It wasn’t often for the king to show his softer side openly, but when he did, he usually did it for me. Legolas once thanked me, that I had brought his father out of his shell. Even though he did not quite understand our relationship, he accepted me as his father’s new wife, soon becoming my partner in crime when it came to wreaking havoc.

I never wanted to replace his mother and I told him so. Legolas didn’t seem to mind either way, soon starting to teasingly call me naneth and over time the name got stuck.  

A guard racing down the hall and stopping in front of us breathless, made me turn my head to look at him. He bowed deeply, his eyes quickly washing over my face, before he looked at the floor in front of him. It was common for the guards and common people to not look at me and after I had pressed Thranduil deeply on the matter, he had admitted to make it a general rule not to stare at me. His harsh demeanor the earlier centuries still sitting deeply, that most elves took it literally and refused to look at me. The only exceptions being Legolas and Tauriel.

“My king.” The guard started. “Your son and some guards have captured a group of 13 dwarves wandering our forest. They are now on their way to be brought in front of you.”

“Is that so?” Thranduil cued, caressing my hair with a soft growl in his voice. “How long are they going to take until their arrival?”

“Not long, my king. They have already made it to the gate.” The guard answered. Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “Thank you. You can leave now.” Waving the guard off, he looked down on me. “It looks like we are about to have guests, little ithil.” Then he opened his legs. “Join me on the throne. A queen must rule besides her king.”

Quickly getting up from my place, I sorted my dress to make it look more presentable. It was made out of thin silk, a soft blue touch to it. During the time I was staying in Mirkwood, I only wore my inside clothes, that Thranduil himself very carefully picked. The dresses he picked for me to wear were far from hiding my body. Rather the opposite. Their light and see through fabric accentuating my curves, doing nothing in hiding my breasts or core from other peoples eyes.

“I am not wearing anything appropriate.” I argued, trying my best to ruffle the dress to cover the dark circles of my nipples that clearly shone through the silk. “Nonsense, meleth. You are wearing just the right dress.” Thranduil said, stopping my hands and smoothing the fabric over my breasts. His soft touches to my nipple made me sigh in pleasure and he smiled. “You are my queen. Mine to protect and cherish. Whenever I am at your side, the world shall see what a beauty lies beneath those fabrics.”

Then he fidgeted with his pants, tying them lose and signaling me to sit on his lap. My eyes widened, when I saw him freeing his cock, that was already leaking precum. “No…” I whispered, but he just pulled me towards him. Simply spreading my legs, he pulled me on top of him so that I was straddling his lap, my back towards him. Beneath my heat, I could feel his cock stroking through my folds. “You are always so wet for me, melethril.” He groaned, taking my shoulder and pushing me down on his cock.

I yelped in surprise and the slight pain the stretch brought with it. But Thranduil didn’t react to it. He simple sorted my feet to dangle besides his thighs, so that I now had no leverage of pushing me up from the throne. “You will stay right here and warm my cock, you understand?” He growled into my ear, biting the skin of my neck right beneath it.

“Yes, my king.” I whispered, leaning back onto his chest. My actions made him chuckle slightly. “You are such a good little girl for me. All it takes is my cock inside of you and you are already forgetting your worries.”

Sorting the dress between my legs, he made sure the two cut outs were delicately laid out to show my legs. Reaching up to my hips and slightly my waist the fabric closed again, just the edges of my hipbones peaking through. A dark blue leather belt securing the dress around my waist and keeping the fabric tight around my chest to not only show my hard nipples through it, but also prevent my breasts from falling out of my cleavage.

What I did not expect was Thranduil sneaking his right hand beneath the fabric of my legs, putting his fingers on my clit. With slow movements, he collected some of my slick that had run out of my core, spreading it over his fingers and my pearl. I couldn’t help myself but moan out his name. “Yes, my little petal. Let them hear you.” Thranduil whispered cockily in my ear and I clasped a hand in front of my mouth, which he quickly took away again. “Oh no, my sweet darling. You are my queen. You do not hide.”

“But you cant just…” My argument was shut down by another moan rolling off my lips, this time a bit quieter, but still clearly hearable for elven ears. “I can and I will.” Thranduil retorted. “I am the king. I can do with my plaything whatever I want and whenever I want it. Not even you will keep me from it.”

I wanted to say something, but the faint thrumming of several pairs of feet made me bite my tongue, trying my best to keep my face straight even though Thranduil had not stopped his soft touches on my core. He was not moving inside of me and thanked the spirits for it, as I would not have been able to keep quiet otherwise. I knew it was obvious for everyone what was happening on the kings throne, but none of the guards reacted openly, even though I thought to have seen some smirks quickly cross their faces.

My dress didn’t do much to hide my growing arousal, my nipples hard and stiff against the silk, Thranduils rings still glittering through the fabric between my legs. And to my dismay, he brushed his free hand over my breasts, making my head roll back onto his shoulder. “That’s it, gilgalad. Feel me.” He cued into my ear, kissing my neck and my cheek. “I will make you come and you will let me, understand?”

“Yes, my king.” I yelped out, closing my eyes at the tingly feeling, that started to slowly build inside of me. With another flick of his fingers, he made me twitch around his cock, growling slightly. “Just like that, darling.” Then his attention shifted from me towards the dwarves that stomped through the halls. Even though they were almost half the size of the elves, their steps were loud and unflattering to the ear, making me shiver and clench my jaw at the interruption.

Thranduil of course noticed, kissing my ear. “They should have taken of their shoes. But then again, I can just make them stop walking. The smell on the other hand I cant control.” I chuckled at his words, my shaking body causing his cock to hit my sweet spot deep inside of me. I yelped, biting my tongue. The hot feeling inside of my body suddenly becoming more prominent.

“Adar.” Legolas voice ripped me out of my fogged up brain and I looked at him. A smile crept on his lips, as he shamelessly stared between my legs. I tried to close them, but Thranduil kept me in place with a slight slap on my clit. I hissed out, clenching around his cock in revenge. But unlike me, the king did not react besides a slight tilt of the head.

“Legolas.” He greeted his son, shuffling a bit on this throne to look at the group in front of us properly. “I see you have brought guests.”

“They were wandering around in the forest. We saved them from being killed by spiders.” Legolas explained, still not taking his eyes away from me. He knew it was a dangerous game to play, but being the son of Thranduil he obviously grew up to be as cocky. His father did also notice his staring, raising an eyebrow. “Something else, you want to add?”

Just like his father, Legolas tilted his head the same way. “Nothing of important matter.” A sly grin on his lips, he leaned against a pillar behind him. Thranduil just scoffed, slightly speeding up the movements of his fingers. He turned his attention towards the dwarves and I could feel him suck in a deep breath.

“Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór king under the mountain.” He greeted the tallest dwarf, who immediately puffed his chest, looking him straight in the eyes. “King Thranduil.” Came the short answer, a suppressed anger in the dwarfs voice. Thranduil did not openly react to it, just letting his left hand delicately brush over my nipples again. Taking the left one between his fingers, he tugged on it, making me involuntarily moan out.

“Tell me dwarf. What is the matter of your visit?” He asked, not even caring to look at the other man, studying my face as it contorted in pleasure. The answer that followed would have cost the dwarf his head, would it not have been for me to sit on Thranduils lap: “We came to seek aid, because unlike you, we have much more important things to do than pleasure a little mistress.”

Immediately two guards had the dwarf on his knees, dragging him closer to the throne, while the others aimed their weapons at the group. “Watch your mouth, scum. This is the queen you are talking about.” One guard growled, harshly tilting Thorins head back, so he was forced to look at the king. Thranduil just smiled one of his arrogant but angry smiles: “What would your people know of pleasuring a woman? Clearly there is not much desirable about your kin.”

And while he was reprimanding the dwarf in front of him, he once again sped up his finger play on my core. The other hand now openly gripping my breasts, tugging on my nipples, until I couldn’t help myself but become a moaning and shivering mess on his lap. The people in front of me faded out of my brain, my focus only on the kings touches and his cock sheathed deep inside of me.

Warm desire, syrupy and all-consuming, filled my stomach. Lust clouding my thoughts. He made it difficult for me to do more than groan, desperate for his touch, as the anxiety I had felt dissipated with each swipe of his fingers. I didn’t care where I was and who was all watching me slowly but surely come undone in the king’s lap. My mind was way too fogged up with the tingly feeling that started to spread from my center towards every string in my body.

I closed my eyes, my head lulling back onto Thranduils shoulders, nails gripping his arm. “Oh god, please. This feels so good.” I moaned, my voice slurred and shaky. The only thing I could focus on was the searing warmth between my legs. Time seemed to still as everything but this, everything but being filled to the brim, ceased to exist. I was tumbling closer to the edge, as my cries were reduced to nothing more than his name. Thranduil didn’t seem to mind one bit either, every cry that left my lips spurring him on further.

“I got you.” Thranduil promised, pressing me impossibly closer to his chest. He pushed me higher and higher, not caring about anything else than my pleasure. Forcing my head back to look at him, I gasped at the sudden possessiveness that overruled everything in him. I could see it in his eyes. They were dark and blown with lust, trained on my face, taking in every twitch of my expression, feeding his arrogance with it.

And then it happened. I barreled over the edge, vision turning black at the edges and lips parting. Thranduils mouth met mine, swallowing my cries of pleasure, noises he knew would still be ringing undeniably loud through the halls. His actions drew a gasp from my lips, the warmth of my orgasm searing through me from within as I clenched around his cock. That had him nipping at my bottom lip in a warning, though a lazy grin betrayed him. “Watch it, nin iell.” He teased. “You don’t want to end it that quickly do you?”

“No!” I yelped, tugging his hand away from my center as I could feel the overstimulation turning unbearable. “Good girl.” Thranduil growled behind me. “Because you take what I give you, like the good little slut you are, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, my king.” My voice was shaky, barely above a whisper and he took it as a sign to let go of me. Just holding me at my hips, he turned to look at the kneeling dwarf before him. “Excuse me. What was it that you wanted?” The sheer arrogance, that laced his words was filling the air, dripping onto the floor, and poisoning everything it touches. Thorin took a deep breath, clearly biting down the words he wanted to say. “Aid, my king.” He repeated between gritted teeth, shaking the hands of the elven guards from his shoulder and standing back up.

Thranduil leaned himself to the side, gently resting his chin on his fingers, as he watched the dwarves. “Some may imagine that noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk.”

Thorin did not say anything, but his lips twitched slightly, obviously not going unnoticed by my husbands eyes. Thranduil, tapped my hip, before he simply heaved me from his lap, making me stand in front of him as a shield. After he had sorted himself, he stepped down the stairs, while I took my seat in his throne, cuddling into his warm cloak, watching the interrogation unfold in front or my eyes.

Thranduil stopped besides Thorin, leaning down on his eye level. “You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you. The right to rule. The kings jewel. The Arkenstone” His words made Thorin look aside, while Thranduil slowly stepped back, stopping in front of me, his eyes still fixated on Thorin. Keeping on talking, he slowly entangled the plan of the dwarves. “It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that.” Looking at me with a smile.

“There are gems in the mountain, that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help.” Thranduil bowed his head. That made Thorin chuckle: “I am listening.” Immediately my husband stone changed, growing darker, a slight threat in his voice: “I will let you go. If you but return what is mine.”

Thorin turned, walking to the edge of the platform. “A favor for a favor.” And I could hear he did not trust one thing Thranduil was saying.

“You have my word.” My husband pressed on. “One king to another.”

“I would not trust Thranduil the great king to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us.” Thorin turned around, pointing a finger at my husband, before he started yelling again. “You lack all honor. I have seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once. Starving, Homeless. Seeking your help. But you turned your back. You turned away form the suffering of my people in the inferno that destroyed us. Imrid amrâd ursul!”

I gasped, as I heard Thorin wish a fiery death upon my husband. Jumping from my seat, I was about to yell at him, but Thranduil raised his hand, my light elven feet clearly too loud for his ears. Taking a step towards Thorin, he bent down once again. “Do not speak to me about dragon fire. I know its wrath and ruin.” Knowing what he was about to do, I balled a fist, gripping tightly at his cloak, when I watched him reveal his scar. I could only see the outer edges that covered his chin.

“I have faced the great serpents of the north.” Thranduil pulled back, stepping closer to me. His whole demeanor changed. Was it before slightly arrogant but still willing to help. It was now hard and hateful. Something he rarely let me see. Still keeping his voice in check, he walked towards the stairs, giving me an apologetic look before turning back to Thorin. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon. But he would not listen.”

Thranduil slowly walked up the steps and I shuffled to stand up, but he just signaled me to stay seated. Taking his stand next to me, hands clasped behind his back. “You are just like him.” Then he waved his arms. The guards immediately jumping to action, grabbing the dwarves. “Stay here if you will and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I am patient. I can wait.”

The guards were about to drag the dwarves of, when I rose from my seat. “Wait.” All action stopped, the dwarves looking at me with wide eyes. Slowly, I made my way down the stairs, stopping in front of Thorin. In comparison to Thranduil he looked tiny, but when I stood next to him, he reached up to my eyes. Looking me straight in the eyes, he challenged me by tilting his head. “Look at that. Thranduils little pet, decides to come to our aid. We do not need your help, woman.” He spat directly in front of me, missing my feet by mere inches.

“Careful of your words, dwarf. I am currently the only one between you and my husbands wrath.” I smiled, mimicking my husband as good as possible. It did not seem to help anything, as Thorin just chuckled. “Are you sure you are not a dwarf yourself? You barely outgrew me.”

“I am an elf.” I said, clenching my jaw. “And only a fool would underestimate his opponent that greatly. Are you perhaps a fool, dwarf?”

“I am no fool!” He yelled out and I couldn’t help but chuckle: “Oh my apologies. Your latest actions must have misled me.” Sighing I stepped around him, taking a closer look at the rest of the group. “You really should take my husbands offer. A small chest of white stones in exchange of an army. That is a small prize to pay, considering the wealth of that mountain.” The rest of the dwarves had agreeing looks on their faces, but none of them dared to speak up against their leader.

“Why are you so set on getting those stones? Is you wardrobe not full enough?” Thorin gritted out, the hate still very prominent in his face. I waved him off. “Ah, I do not care about jewels…”

“Your clothes speak different, woman.” He spat out, interrupting me. Slowly I was getting angrier at his antics, twirling around on my heels. But Thorin wasn’t finished making fun of me: “You walk around this realm. Clothed in nothing more than what can be called an excuse of clothing. A tease to everyone’s eyes and yet, your king enables it by ordering everybody to shy away their gaze. And still, everyone is able to see your form, covered in gemstones from head to toe and you dare to claim not to care about jewels? I bet you even have them stuck up your womanhood. That’s how greedy you are for them!”

“Take his head!” Thranduils voice thundered through the halls. His words making everyone gasp out in fear, the guards holding him, now forcing him down, a blade on his throat, ready to cut it at my command. I just raised my hand to stop them. “I do not need to answer your foul accusations, dwarf. But if you may know, those stones and dresses are a gift of my husband. I wear them, to please his eye and only his. As for his orders, I have asked him to at least loosen the punishments, and for our people he has. But you are an outsider. Clearly not able to respect a woman, so why should you be allowed to set eye on her?” Stepping closer to him, I looked him deep into the eyes, before carrying on: “And for those white stones. They were an heirloom of his late wife. They hold great worth to him.”

Thorins lips contorted into a wicked grin. “An heirloom of his late wife. Look at that. The second one defending her husband. To blind to see, he will never love her the way he did with his first. Tell me how does it feel to always be second? To always be reminded of the woman he lost? The mother of his son?” That’s when it snapped in me.

I slapped him across the face, my eyes squinted in anger and I had to physically hold back my voice to not yell at him: “I have given you another chance. Offered you a way out. And yet you stand here, still spitting on the help we offer. Spitting on Legolas mother. There is no competition between us. I know he loved her with all his heart and there is still love in there for her, but that does not dull his love for me. I can see that you are bitter. Too bitter to see the good around you. Your people will die because of your wrathful greed. You lead them into death by dragon fire just because you are to arrogant to accept help. I might not have met many dwarves, but you, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, king under the mountain are clearly the most arrogant and hateful one.”

Then I looked at the guards. “Finish my husbands order. Take them to the dungeons. Let them rot.” Turning on my heels again, I made my way away from the throne. One the one hand to give my mind peace and to hid the tears that were about to form in my eyes. Thorins words had hit dead center. I knew I should not doubt Thranduils love for me, but still. A part of me, was contemplating whether he was still hanging on his late wife or not. I did not really look where I was going, letting my feet carry me through the kingdom halls. The tears had now pressed themselves to the surface, rolling down my cheeks in big paths and making my vision blurry.

When I stopped, I realized I was in my old chambers. The one I had moved into centuries ago, when I stumbled into Mirkwood by accident. Originally, I was an elf of Imraldis. Elronds cousin to be exact, but I wanted to see the world before I was to marry. My path bringing me into the woods of Mirkwood. What I did not know, was the severity of the spiders. Underestimating the danger, I soon found myself surrounded by five of them, a venomous bit in my left shoulder. I must have passed out, because the next thing I remembered was Legolas and another elf leaning over me and caring for my wound.

After I had healed, I was brought before the king. He offered me shelter and I had taken his offer gladly. Not knowing who I was, I simply took a role as a soldier of Mirkwood, going on patrol with Legolas to keep the borders safe. It took several years, before Elrond had figured out where I went. With the cause to bring me back, he stormed into the halls, demanding to know why the king would let his cousin do such a dangerous job. Thranduil not knowing let to a big fight between the normally very close elves. And after I had refused to go home with Elrond, I was taken from my patrol and sorted to do the more strategic part of military tasks. My new role forcing me to work closer with the king and slowly we became friends. That friendship turned into love and Thranduil started to court me until we finally got married.

I was too caught up with my tears and the memories streaming into my brain, that I did not hear the footsteps approaching me from behind. So, when a hand touched me, I whirled around ready to fight. Btu strong arms held me close, the strong smell of pine, red berries and a hint of frozen mint entangling me, announcing the person holding me as my husband. “Shhh don’t cry, meleth. Please. There is no need…”

“No need?” I yelled, tripping over my own words. “He read my like a book just by looking at me. Every word of his is true!”

“Not all of them.” Thranduil calmly stated. It made me reel out in wicked laughter, the tears streaming down my red cheeks before dropping onto my chest. “Oh spare me. I know you love your late wife. You always had and you always will. I am merely a distraction for you, one you grew to love the image of rather than the truth.”

“Meleth…” He started, but I just stepped out of his hold. “No, Thranduil. Don’t call me that ever again.” My words visibly made him angry, but he held back, letting me speak my mind: “We have lived a lie. A dream. Me too blind to see and you to torn by your feelings to understand the truth. You long for your late wife everyday. That’s why you keep distracting yourself with dressing me up, so that you don’t have to look me in the eye and see I am not her. And I let you do it. To stupid to see the poison it brought to my body, believing it was just your way of loving me.”

“That’s what you think?” His voice was quiet. A slight tremble to it.

“I know it is.” I simply answered, not daring to look at him.

“So, you want this to end? Just because a bitter dwarf told you to?” He asked, angrily taking of his crown and throwing it against the wall. It splattered into thousands of tiny pieces, scattering around the floor. “That’s how much I love you. I would give up all of this, to be with you. Why don’t you see that?” He started to take of his jewels, throwing them against the wall as well. And with every piece of stone that shattered, a piece of my heart broke, until I couldn’t help myself but sink to my knees.

He was by my side immediately. “Listen to me, bereth. As it might be true, that I deeply loved my wife and that I still hold her very dearly. It means nothing compared to you. She is the mother of my child. You are the light of my life. I love you with all my heart and I want to spent eternity with you. Don’t listen to the words of that dwarf, as he knows nothing about love.”

I was still doubtful. The words of Thorin still present in my ears. “You just say that to keep me as your wife.”

Thranduil rose back to his feet, now angrily pacing through the room. “If its that what you want, we shall separate. I cannot divorce you because of our social standing. But I shall leave you be. You will be cared for and every wish shall be fulfilled, but I will never bother you again.” He forced his hands through his hair, making it all messed up, before he looked at me again: “I do not say things lightly and you know that. I have lived thousands of years to see people fall in and out of love. And if you are… Then so shall it be.”

There he was again. The cold king I had met centuries ago. The stiff shell of what he once was, hiding behind power and coldness. It broke my heart seeing him like that and the pull I felt inside of me, made me realize how wrong I was about him. About us. Before he could turn to leave, I sprung to my feet, grabbing his hand. “I am sorry.”

He stilled in his movements, tilting his head to look at me, his gaze harsh and unmoving. “I am sorry.” I repeated. “I was not thinking clearly… Thorins words… They were so hard, so… real. It made my mind underestimate your love for me. Please forgive me, herven. I… I always fear you will leave me one day. Realizing it meant nothing for you. And when he said that… It all became so real, so true. I could not bear the thought of you leaving me, so I fled. Making myself believe that if I were the one to decide, it would not be so harsh on my mind.”

A soft smile crept up his lips, before he took me in a long and warm embrace, wrapping his cloak around us both. “Oh, you stupid little girl. Why did you not tell me about your fears? I would have done more to show you otherwise.”

“Don’t call me a little girl.” I grumbled against his chest, hitting him with my fist. That only caused him to laugh out loud. “But you are. Merely overtaking dwarfs by half a head. Just a little more than a decade older than my son.”

“That is only shining a bad light upon you. Grooming an elleth that is the age of your child. You should be arrested for sacrilegious acts.” I teased, slowly gaining my confidence back. I looked up, only to be met with Thranduils love sick blue eyes watching me intently. At my words he raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I believe you should stop me then. Or do you perhaps relish in the way I am corrupting you?”

I was speechless. My mouth opening and closing without the words coming out. My brain was mushy, melting under his strong gaze. That only seemed to spur him on even more. “Are you falling out of words, pîn iell?” Letting his hands slowly graze down my body until they reached my thighs, he lifted me up. Out of instinct I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the bulge of his pants pressing against my core. His expression turned smug, when he saw my nipples again peaking through the thin fabric. “You don’t have to say it. Your body speaks enough.”

With that he carried me out of the room, but we didn’t get far, as he crashed us into the next wall, his lips feverish on mine. I sighed deeply, when I felt him press against me as desperate as I was. Letting my hands wander through his hair, I pulled on the strands that normally were very orderly sorted on his head. But now I had turned them into a mess. “Thranduil…” I moaned, pressing myself even closer to him.

“I got you, meleth. I am here. You are safe.” He groaned against my lips.

“Bed.” I breathed out and he chuckled. “Which one? Ours or just any bed?”

“I hate you.” I said, leaning my face against his chest to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks. He took my chin into his hand, softly turning it, so that I had to look him into the eyes. His blue orbs were burning with desire and lust, making me speechless. “I am the king. I own every bed in this realm. So, if you should ever desire something else than ours, you shall have it. Besides. I would not mind fucking you on any bed or surface. By Valar, I would even fuck you in front all of my people to show how much I love you.”

“I figured.” I retorted, cockily. “What even was that back in the throne room? I know you are a possessive man, but that was something new. Even for you.” He smirked, tilting his head. “How do you thing I have managed to stay sane over all those years? A creature living this long needs to be creative to make life worth living.”

“Mhm. Sure. And now what's the truth?” I asked, not falling for his sly answer. “I was just incredible horny for my wife.” He whispered into my ear, causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin. “So horny, that you would bring me to an orgasm in front of our guests?” I breathed, holding onto his shoulders. “Yes.” Was all he said, before he pressed his lips onto mine once again.

A scattering sound made us flinch apart, only to see a young servant standing in the middle of the hall, a load of books spread to his feet. “My king, my queen.” He bowed deeply, before he sunk to his knees to grab the books. “I am so sorry for interrupting, I did not intent to walk here, but I got lost on my way back to the library. Please forgive me.”

Quickly I shuffled out of Thranduils hold, kneeling besides the servant. I helped him sort his books, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Its alright. You are new, are you not?”

“Yes, your majesty. I am a new scribe in the library.” He didn’t dare to look at me, his eyes trained onto the books. I sighed deeply, wondering what the older elves had told him would happen if he were to look at me. “You know you can look me into the eyes.” I chuckled, ignoring the low huff of my husband behind me.

“I am not to look at the queen. That’s what I have been told by Cabron.” He answered. “He said I would be thrown into the dungeon where my eyes would be poked out and I was to rot to death.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Do not fear me or the wrath of my husband. Cabron is a very… lets say teasing ellon. He was just messing with you. The rule is not to stare at me, looking me in the eyes, when I speak with you is fine.”

“Its not.” Thranduil grumbled behind me, but I shushed him. “Don’t listen to him. He is particularly grumpy today, as he had a run in with dwarves.” Then I stepped next to him. “If you want to the library, you walk down that corridor, take the first left turn, follow the path to the end and then turn right. After that you should be close enough to the library to know.”

The servant bowed again. “Thank you, your majesty.” Then he ran off the way I described to him. Looking at Thranduil, I raised an eyebrow. “Look at what you are doing to the young ellons. The older elves might understand your words in their meaning, but they are using it to torment the young ones.” He didn’t seem to be bothered one bit. “What a shame…” Slowly stalking towards me, a grin spread over his face. “That makes me think of something I said earlier.”

“And what would that be?” I asked breathless, fleeing backwards from my husband. The grin on his lips turning more wolfish with every step he took. “I shall take you where anyone can hear you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I shrieked; my eyes wide in shock.

“Oh, and how I would. And I will teach that scum of a dwarf a lesson.” He stopped his prowl, looking at me as if he was thinking about something. And then he yelled at me: “RUN!”

Before I even completely comprehended his words, my body reacted to his command. Gathering my skirt, I turned on the spot, fleeing down the hall, Thranduil hot on my heels. I was giggling like a little child, as I raced through the kingdom. Elves forced to jump aside, looking after us, as we passed them. Soon I was caught between a stone wall, the cliff of a path just above the dungeons and Thranduil blocking my only way out. Trying my best to catch my breath, I leaned against the wall, forcefully slowing my breathing. Then realization dawned on my face: “You routed me here…”

“I did.” There was no regret in his voice, the sly smile still present on his lips. His shoulders were heaving in big breaths, the fabric of his tunic stretching across his chest and arms as he flexed them against the wall. Slowly stalking towards me, he forced me deeper into the dungeon, until my back hit the wall. I looked to the side and down the cliff. Beneath me, I could see the dwarves being captured in their cells. Thorin looking right back at me.

He was about the same height we were currently at, the others of his company below us or him, unable to see what was happening. That didn’t keep them from listening. “Thorin. What's going on up there.” A young voice called out. Thorin’s face contorted, as he answered. “Nothing, Kili. Just the elven king giving into the desire of his flesh once more.”

“What does that even mean?” Kili asked, another voice, very similar to his answered him: “It means the elven king is about to fuck his wife just above you, you moron.”

“Fili!” Thorin thundered, but I couldn’t help but laugh. Even Thranduil had a sly smile on his lips, securely hidden from the dwarves.

“It seems like you have pulled our guests attention, nin iell.” He cockily said and I knew that he was staging a play. Tilting my head, I played along: “Good thing you are here to prevent me from any more danger.”

“Indeed.” He said, letting his eyes shamelessly run over my body. Then with one big last step, he closed the distance between us, picking me up once more. “Thranduil!” I yelped out, clutching at his arms and wrapping my legs around him. He tightened his arms around me, pressing me against the wall. It caused me to make a soft noise, something between a moan and a purr.

Thranduil grinned wolfishly, as one hand wandered from my face, down my shoulder, gripping the belt of my dress. And with one sharp tug, he ripped it from my body. I gasped at his sudden show of violence, the dress falling open. It was one of his favorite dresses. Basically, one long piece of fabric cut into two strands one side up to the middle. To wear it, I simply laid the two strands above my body, while the single strand covered my back. Then I wore a belt to safely secure it around my waist, sorting the fabric over my chest. Now those two strands were flaring widely open, only held between my legs.

Letting the belt fall to the ground, Thranduil gripped the fabric of the dress, slowly pulling it out between us, before he disregarded it onto the floor as well. Now I was naked, my back pressed against the cold stone wall.

“Please.” I begged, making the elf before me hoarsely chuckle, his teeth were grazing my earlobe, biting it gently.

“Please, what?” He asked as he pulled away, his eyes now dark with lust and desire.

“Please touch me.” I breathlessly whispered. It was all he needed. Without wasting any second, his lips captured mine, locking them in the most passionate and fiery way he could muster. The feeling of his lips against mine was enough to knock the air out of my lungs, not to mention the force of his tongue inside my mouth, it was enough to have my mind reeling.

He gently put me down, leaning me against the wall, as he knelt in front of me. Spreading his cloak on the floor to give some warmth from the cold stone. Patting the fabric in front of him, he looked at me with the uttermost desire I had ever seen a man look at me with. Fully aware of Thorins eyes upon me, I walked around Thranduil, taking my place on the ground beneath him. A sly grin on his lips, he shuffled between my legs, throwing one last glance to the dwarf watching us, before he simply dove down.

“Oh my GOD!” His tongue traced my clit lightly, barely giving much stimulation, but even that was enough to make my legs starting to quiver.

While his tongue tracing my clit felt absolutely amazing, nothing prepared me for feeling his tongue tracing along my soaked slit, before delicately prodding inside of me. “Melethron!” I shrieked out, his tongue trailing back to my clit before I felt his finger slowly enter my core. He raised his mouth from my center, looking me straight into my eyes. “By Valar, how I love this.” His voice was nearly a growl. “And by all what is mighty, I will never stop worshipping it.”

He was passionate about pleasing me, humming at my skin. Making sure to wait for me to relax, welcoming the pleasure rather than being surprised by it, before he slowly started to thrust the single digit in and out of my core. I tossed my head back, gripping the fabric of his cloak at the feeling of his long fingers reaching parts of me that I could never reach myself.

“Fuck!” I yelped out, his finger finding the perfect spot inside of me, curling to massage it gently and bringing me closer to the edge. My walls pulsating in rhythm with his thrusts, the wet and messy sounds of my pleasure filling the room. I felt him moan, even more as he brought his free hand up my chest, pinching and pulling my nipple before switching to the neglected breast, simultaneously adding a second finger. 

I cried out for him. “I’m so close, please don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” My back began to arch off the ground, as his ministrations went on, his fingers pounding into my core as his lips continued to suck eagerly at my clit. “Oh my…” I rasped, my voice hoarse and thin. “Thranduil!” I yelled, as my orgasm washed over me all the sudden. Riding it out, as he refused to cease his actions on my body until I couldn’t take any more and had to pull him away.

“Oh, how I love seeing you like this. All ready for me.” Thranduil snickered, his eyes trained on the spot between my legs. I could feel my wetness slowly dripping out of my core, running down onto his cloak. “To bad, a certain dwarf had to interrupt me fucking you on my throne. Making you the queen you were born to be. I would have fucked my seed so deep inside of you. Taking you until you are begging for me to stop.  Making you a crying mess for everyone to hear. And then I would have carried you back to our chambers, my cum leaking out of your pretty little pussy.”

I whined at his words, my body instinctively arching. “You are so needy for me. My beautiful little slut.” Playing with my folds, he pulled another moan from my lips. Forcing them into me, he curled them once more, finding my sweet spot just so easily, reaching places I couldn’t reach myself. “This pussy belongs to me, you hear me?”

“Yes.” I breathed out, my voice high pitched from the pleasure he was once again granting me.

“Yes what?” He snarled, his blue eyes squinting with a slight threat that shot the heat right between my legs.

“Yes, my king.” I mewled. “Please. I need you. Please…” Sounding like a needy child, I cried out for him, spreading my legs further to coax him in. He stopped moving his fingers inside of me, slowly pulling them out. “Do it again. Beg for it. I know you want to.”

“Thranduil…” My moan was reflected by the walls, traveling through the halls up to the throne room. “Please, my king. I need you. I want you to take me. Make me your queen, please…” Without a warning, he lined his cock up with my entrance, bottoming out in one go. I yelped at the pain of being stretched so suddenly, but it soon subsided, when he started his slow and passionate pace. He wanted to take his time. Relish in the moment.

I was a quivering mess beneath him. My eyes rolling back into my head, lips hanging open, hands gripping at everything they felt. He growled above me, causing my eyes to snap open. Like a ravenous predator, his eyes captured mine. A desire burning inside of them that only he could produce. “Please…” I whimpered once again, now completely pushed into submission by his demeanor. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. Then he turned my head towards the cliff. “Look at him.” Thranduil ordered and I opened my eyes, seeing Thorin stand in his cell. His hands harshly gripping the metal rods of the door.

Thranduil tapped my lips with his fingers and I obediently opened my mouth, taking his long digits down my throat. I choked on their length, but forced down the gag reflex. “Hands above your head.” He ordered and I quickly moved them where he wanted them. His response was taking them into his big hand, the pace switching from slow to a more moderate speed, knocking the air out of my lungs.

My head hung back, my lips being parted by his fingers, drool running down my cheeks, as I gave myself to him. The searing heat returning, starting between my legs and slowly burning its way through every fiber of my body. Soon my moans were accompanied by his groans, the sound of him growling my name and cursing in elvish dragging me towards the edge in record speed. I tried to ask for more, but his fingers restrained me from forming a coherent sentence. With a knowing grin, he let go of my mouth, looking at me challengingly: “What is it, nin iell?”

“M… More.” I moaned out. “Please. I need more.” He hummed at my request, bending down to kiss me. “Hmmm. My little petal. So eager to be fucked. Wishing to be ruined by her king.” He murmured between kisses, smothering every inch of my body he could reach. Unable to even process his words, he caught me by surprise, when he took my right leg and threw it over his shoulder, the space now enabling him to pound into me even deeper.

“Thranduil!” I cried out, twitching beneath him and trying to get away from his harsh thrusts. His cock hitting me deeply and perfectly on my sweet spot, to an extend that I wasn’t sure if it was still pleasure that shot through my body. “This was what you requested, was it not?” He cued and I couldn’t help but mewl. “It is what you begged me for. To give you more, isn’t that right, gilgalad?”

Trying my hardest to answer him, I opened my lips, bit my sentence got ripped away by the sudden moan that rushed through my lips. Even though I was staring at my husband, I wasn’t really able to focus on anything in particular. All my attention laying on the feelings he freed deeply in my body. “There… Please…” My words were slurred and hasty, my brain drunken from the pleasure overtaking my body. “Here?” He cockily asked, repeating the exact movement that had me reeling in a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation. “Or perhaps here?” Dragging his free hand over my body, he pinched my nipples hard, before he let his fingers wander lower. Circling my clit with soft little touches, he watched me, as I fell apart.

Searing hot the fire rushed through my veins. I tried to warn him from my upcoming orgasm, but my body was faster than my mind. My walls clamping down around his cock, I shakily came undone beneath him, the cry of his name ringing through the halls and echoing in the distance. A string of elvish curse words left my husband, my hip now marked in a new red bruise of his hand. But he didn’t falter in his thrusts. Relentlessly pounding into me, knowingly overstimulating me in the chase of his own release.

“I… Cant… Please… cant…” I cried out, but he cut me off with a hand around my throat. “Take it.” He growled. “I know you can. Be a good girl for me and take my cock.” His eyes were burning dark, the wild lust flaming through his pupils. And then he squeezed my throat, watching me, as my eyes rolled back into my head once more. The cry of his name, caught in my throat, my body overshooting with bliss and a blinding fire.

Trembling. That’s what I was able to do and not much more. My frame buried beneath the king, as he captured my swollen lips with his, only giving me short allowances of air. My vision got blurry, a tingly feeling spreading through my limps and I nearly missed the second wave of hot pleasure racing through my body. Thranduil of course noticed by the way my walls were gripping him once more. “Come.” He demanded. “Come for me again.”

It was all I needed to hear, when he let go of my throat, supporting his weight on both of his arms, letting go of my hands. Shattering around him a second time, I gripped his shoulders, pressing myself against his frame to find something to ground me against the violent shivers that overtook my body. It was blinding and breathtaking, as I released the blistering heat in my body with a cry of his name, that was surely heard in all Mirkwood.

I barely noticed him being brought to his own release, the stuttering pulse of my walls, finally pulling him over the edge as well. A growl on his lips, he captured my mouth with his, forcing me into a heated and passionate kiss. The once harsh and fervent snaps of his hips melted into soft bucks, rolling against my core until he slowly came to a stop.

It took him a few moments to find his composure again, but when he did, he slowly pulled out of me and I couldn’t help myself but curse. “I am sorry, meleth nin.” He whispered, stroking the hair out of my face. “I should have been softer on you.” Looking over my body, he let his hand rest against my core, cooling the heated flesh with his cold touch. Then he got up on his feet, and I only now realized, that he was still wearing all of his clothes. Smiling at him, I tried to get up, but he shook his head.

“Rest, meleth, I will take care of you.” Once he had his clothes sorted, he kneeled down next to me again, carefully wrapping his cloak around my shivering body, the coldness of the dungeons slowly creeping into my bones. “Thranduil…” I whimpered out, trying to reach out for him, but he shushed me immediately. “Its alright, little ithil. I got you.” Then he turned to grab my dress, but his action were interrupted by a sly grin. Handing me the belt, he crumpled the fabric into a ball. Getting up to his feet, he hurled it across the distance, directly between two metal rods of Thorins cell and directly into his face.

“Keep it as a reminder of your place, dwarf.” Thranduil gritted out between his teeth an arrogant and possessive smile on his lips. Thorin looked as surprised as I was, but his expression quickly turning sour. “You will pay for this, elf!” He yelled, but Thranduil just chuckled. “We will see about that.” Picking me up from the ground, he made his way through the dungeon and up the little pathways. In the distance I could still hear Thorin cursing us out in Khuzdul, his voice quickly fading into nothing more than a quiet background noise…

On our way back to our chambers, we passed several elves all of which carried a sly smile on their lips, that could have rivaled my husband himself.

Part 2:

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

I can just imagine aizawa having a preg reader and she visits him and his class with eri

(after the overhaul incident)

Only to go in there and give aizawa his eye drop

(that he left at home)

and scold him and after that class 1-A just absolutely love you

(yes even bakugo)

and now when ever aizawa yells at the class, Mina or Denki call the reader and is just like “hey y/n aizawa is being mean again”

And in a flash your up at the school still heavily pregnant and scolding aizawa.

Sorry if this is too much I thought this was funny 😁 please ignore/delete if you don’t want to do this.

I'm so glad my requests are working again!! Thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy!!

AIZAWA x PREG!READER - FORGETFUL

All Might spots you entering the building and knows what's about to happen. You walk down the hallway, pregnant and holding Eri's hand. You look utterly pissed off, no one dares to stop you. You can hear him teaching his students from behind the door. You pull the door open and eye your husband with a look that could kill.

"Sorry for interrupting your class, you forgot something at home."

You hold up the bottle of eyedrops between your fingers to show him. Eri goes over to the students and starts to talk to them, smiling and laughing.

"Thank you, precious." He places a kiss on your head and gives you a gentle smile.

"Shota, I thought you were staying home today; you've been through a lot."

He can't even find the words to tell you why he came into work.

"I know, sweetheart."

"You annoy me so much, if you forget again, I'll actually fight you in front of your students." His students were listening in now, looking right at you and then Aizawa for his response.

You harshly place the eyedrops on the podium in front of the class and look to Eri with a hand out.

"Come here, Eri." She says a quick goodbye to the students and runs over to grab your hand.

You smile down at the girl and exit the room.

After you exit the room, Aizawa lets out a breath he's been holding in. The students in the room have never seen Aizawa act like that before.

"I like your wife Aizawa, she's very nice." Midoriya says sheepishly.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

You had your baby and now you work at UA with your husband. You were outside with them at the UA pool, watching them have fun and conversate. The boys are about to race using their quirks when your husband steps outside and activates his quirk, causing them to fall into the water.

"SHOTA!"

You send him a hard glare and he looks shaken to his core.

"Are you okay boys?" They give you a thumbs up as you let out a breath of relief.

You stand in front of Aizawa as the kids watch the interaction.

"What if they got hurt?!"

"They're fine love."

"Don't you 'love' me! If any of them got hurt because of your actions, I will drag you across the ground while they watch."

You look back at your kids and sigh.

"The pool's closed, time to go back to your dorms." They let out noises of disappointment but they listen.

You side eye your husband as he does the same. You walk past him with a scoff. Aizawa rubs the bridge of his nose as he sighs. His students look at him and then turn to each other.

"He messed up now."

[sereinnu]

Fractured Tides

Warnings: STEP-CEST| drugs and alcohol use| Rafe Cameron| very foul language| more yet to come| DON'T read if you're uncomfortable with these themes| MDNI| I already warned you not to read|

Rafe Cameron x Step-sister!Reader

Despite your efforts to make peace, your stepbrother Rafe's hatred for you persists. Each attempt to bridge the gap only seems to widen the divide, leaving you wondering if you'll ever find common ground in this family.

The Outer Banks were alive with the sounds of summer—the rustle of the breeze through the palm trees, the distant roar of the ocean, and the hum of a world that seemed so far removed from the chaos within Tannyhill. You had lived here for years now, but the house never truly felt like home. It was a place you were forced to adapt to, much like the family you were thrown into when your mother married Ward Cameron.

You were only eight years old then, a wide-eyed child trying to make sense of this new life. But even at that young age, you could sense Rafe's disdain. He was older, already on the cusp of adolescence, and his resentment towards you was palpable. You were the intruder, the outsider who disrupted the Cameron family dynamic.

Now, a decade later, little had changed between you and Rafe. If anything, the years had only deepened the chasm between you. You tried to keep your distance, knowing that your presence in his life was unwanted. But living under the same roof made that nearly impossible.

You were in the kitchen, making a cup of tea when you heard the front door slam. The heavy, hurried footsteps that followed told you it was Rafe. His presence was almost always announced this way—loud, forceful, a storm barreling through the house.

You didn’t have to see him to know he was upset. You could feel it, like a pressure in the air that made your skin crawl. But when Rafe appeared in the doorway, his eyes wild and his hair disheveled, you couldn’t ignore him.

“What happened?” you asked cautiously, not sure if he would answer.

Rafe’s eyes snapped to you, narrowing in that way they always did when he looked at you—like you were something distasteful, something he wished would disappear. “None of your business,” he growled, moving past you to rummage through the cupboards.

You watched him, your fingers tightening around the handle of your mug. “I’m just trying to help,” you said softly, knowing your words would likely fall on deaf ears.

He slammed the cupboard door shut, making you flinch. “I don’t need your help,” he spat, turning to face you with a sneer. “You’ve been here for years, and you still don’t get it, do you? You’re not a Cameron. You never were, and you never will be.”

The words stung, even though you had heard variations of them before. But there was something particularly venomous in his tone today, something that made you realize this wasn’t just his usual hostility. He was angry—angrier than usual.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Why do you hate me so much, Rafe? What did I ever do to you?”

Rafe laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You want a list? Because I can start with the fact that you ruined everything. Before you and your mom came along, we were fine. We were a family. But then you showed up, and everything went to shit.”

You shook your head, trying to make sense of his words. “That’s not fair, Rafe. I was just a kid. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snapped. “But here we are, stuck in this fucked-up situation. And every time I look at you, I’m reminded of how much I hate it.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of you. You knew Rafe didn’t like you, but hearing him say it out loud, with such malice, was something else entirely.

For a moment, the kitchen was silent except for the sound of your uneven breathing. Rafe’s gaze bore into you, his eyes dark and unforgiving. You wanted to say something, to defend yourself, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stand there, rooted to the spot, feeling like the intruder he had always accused you of being.

Finally, Rafe shook his head, as if he were disgusted with himself for even engaging with you. “Just stay out of my way,” he muttered, brushing past you to leave the kitchen.

You watched him go, the tension in your chest slowly easing as the distance between you grew. But the ache his words had left behind didn’t fade. It lingered, a reminder that no matter how hard you tried, you would never be part of this family—not in Rafe’s eyes.

As you stood alone in the kitchen, the house around you seemed to grow colder, the warmth of the summer day outside a cruel contrast to the chill that had settled within. The Outer Banks were supposed to be a paradise, but for you, it was nothing more than a gilded cage, trapping you in a life where you didn’t belong.

And Rafe, with all his anger and resentment, was the constant reminder that you were an outsider—a permanent stain on the perfect Cameron image.

The days following your confrontation with Rafe were tense, but that wasn’t unusual. Tension had become the norm in your life at Tannyhill, and you had learned to navigate it as best you could. But this time, the tension felt different—more personal, more cutting. Rafe's words had sunk deep, and no matter how much you tried to shake them off, they lingered like a bruise that refused to heal.

You spent most of your time avoiding him, retreating to the few places in the house where you could find some semblance of peace. One of those places was the library, a grand room lined with shelves upon shelves of books. It was one of the only rooms in the house that felt like it belonged to another time, another life—somewhere far away from the chaos of the present.

You were there now, curled up in a corner with a book that you weren’t really reading. The words on the page blurred together as your thoughts drifted back to the encounter with Rafe. His anger had always been a part of your life, but now, it felt like something you couldn’t ignore, something that was slowly suffocating you.

The sound of the door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts. You tensed, hoping it wasn’t Rafe. But when you looked up, you saw Sarah standing in the doorway. Her expression was tentative, as if she wasn’t sure she was welcome.

“Hey,” she said softly, stepping into the room. “Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, offering her a small smile. “Of course not.”

Sarah walked over and sat down beside you, her gaze scanning the room before settling on you. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said. “You’ve been hiding out in here a lot lately.”

“Just trying to stay out of the way,” you replied, knowing she would understand the implication. Sarah was the one person in the house who tried to bridge the gap between you and the rest of the family. She had always been kind to you, always tried to make you feel included, even when Rafe made it clear that you weren’t.

She sighed, leaning back against the armrest. “I’m sorry about Rafe,” she said quietly. “I know he can be… difficult.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Sarah looked at you, her eyes full of sympathy. “He’s just… he’s been through a lot. But that doesn’t excuse the way he treats you.”

You nodded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. What was there to say? You had known Rafe was troubled from the start, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with his hatred.

“Have you talked to him?” Sarah asked after a moment. “Really talked to him?”

You shook your head. “What’s the point? He’s made it clear how he feels about me. Talking won’t change that.”

Sarah frowned, her fingers twisting a strand of her blonde hair. “Maybe not. But I think he needs to hear that you’re not the enemy. You’re not the reason things changed.”

You knew she was right, but the thought of confronting Rafe again made your stomach turn. “I don’t think he cares about what I have to say, Sarah. He’s always seen me as an outsider, someone who doesn’t belong here. I’m not a Cameron to him, and I never will be.”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, as if she was trying to find the right words. “He’s not the only one who gets to decide that,” she said finally. “You’re a part of this family, whether he likes it or not. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide because of him.”

Her words were comforting, but they didn’t erase the fear that had taken root in you. “I just don’t want to make things worse,” you admitted. “The last thing I want is to set him off again.”

Sarah reached out and placed a hand on your arm. “You won’t. I’ll talk to him. Maybe I can help him see things differently.”

You smiled weakly, appreciating the offer but doubting it would make much of a difference. “Thanks, Sarah. But I don’t want you to get caught in the middle of this.”

“I’m already in the middle,” she said with a small shrug. “But that’s what family is for, right? We stick together, even when things are tough.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. Family was a concept that had always been complicated for you, especially since moving in with the Camerons. But hearing Sarah say it, hearing her include you in that definition, made you realize how much you longed for that connection—for a place where you truly belonged.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I guess it is.”

Sarah gave you a reassuring smile before standing up. “Come on, let’s get out of here for a bit. We can go down to the beach or something. Clear our heads.”

You hesitated, glancing out the window at the fading light. The idea of leaving the safety of the library made you uneasy, but you knew Sarah was trying to help. And maybe getting out of the house, even for a little while, would do you some good.

“Okay,” you agreed, closing your book and standing up. “Let’s go.”

As you followed Sarah out of the library, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of relief. For now, at least, you didn’t have to face Rafe alone. But deep down, you knew that sooner or later, you would have to confront him again—and when that time came, you weren’t sure how it would end.

The two of you walked down the grand staircase, the wooden steps creaking under your feet. The house was quiet, almost too quiet, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. You tried to push the feeling aside, focusing instead on Sarah’s presence beside you. She was your anchor in this chaotic world, and you were grateful for it.

As you reached the front door, you hesitated for a moment, glancing back down the hallway. It was irrational, but you half-expected Rafe to appear out of nowhere, his anger boiling over once again. But the hall was empty, and the silence remained unbroken.

“Come on,” Sarah urged gently, sensing your reluctance. “It’ll be good to get some fresh air.”

You nodded, finally stepping out onto the porch. The warm evening air greeted you, carrying the scent of salt and sun-warmed earth. The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, the sun dipping below the horizon. It was the kind of evening that should have brought you peace, but the tension in your chest refused to ease.

You followed Sarah down the steps and onto the path that led to the beach. The sand was cool beneath your feet as you kicked off your shoes, the grains slipping between your toes. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing, a rhythmic reminder that the world kept turning, even when it felt like everything else was falling apart.

Sarah walked a little ahead of you, her hair catching the last rays of the sun. She glanced back at you with a smile, trying to draw you into the moment. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? This is my favorite time of day.”

You managed a small smile in return. “Yeah, it is.”

The two of you walked in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds around you coming from the ocean and the occasional call of a seabird. It was peaceful, almost serene, and you found yourself relaxing just a little. Maybe Sarah was right—maybe this was exactly what you needed.

After a few minutes, Sarah spoke again, her tone more serious. “You know, Rafe wasn’t always like this.”

You glanced at her, curious. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “He was different when we were younger. Before Dad… well, before everything changed. He used to be kind, protective even. But when things started going wrong, he just… I don’t know, he shut down. And then he started acting out, getting into trouble. It’s like he became someone else.”

You listened intently, trying to picture the Rafe she was describing. It was hard to imagine him as anything other than the angry, volatile person you knew now. “What happened?” you asked softly.

Sarah hesitated, as if she were weighing her words carefully. “A lot of things. Mom leaving hit him hard, harder than he let on. And then Dad… he put so much pressure on Rafe to be the man of the house, to live up to this impossible standard. I think it broke something in him.”

You had known about Rafe’s struggles with his father, but hearing it from Sarah made it feel more real. It wasn’t an excuse for his behavior, but it gave you a glimpse of the pain that might be fueling his anger. “I had no idea it was that bad,” you admitted.

Sarah nodded, her expression sad. “He won’t talk about it, not even with me. But I see it in him, every day. He’s drowning, and I don’t know how to help him. And now, with you here, it’s like he’s lashing out because he doesn’t know what else to do.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a surge of empathy for both of them. “I don’t want to make things worse for him, Sarah. I just want to find a way to coexist, to be a part of this family without everything falling apart.”

Sarah reached out and squeezed your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “You’re already part of this family. Don’t let Rafe make you feel like you’re not. He’ll come around eventually. I know he will.”

You wanted to believe her, but a part of you couldn’t shake the doubt. Rafe’s hatred for you ran deep, and you weren’t sure if anything could change that. But for Sarah’s sake, you would try. You owed her that much.

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the beach in shadows, you felt a sense of resolve settle within you. You couldn’t change the past, and you couldn’t force Rafe to accept you. But you could control how you responded to him, how you chose to live in this fractured family.

For now, that would have to be enough.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, you and Sarah found a spot to sit on the sand. The ocean stretched out before you, dark and endless, a stark contrast to the earlier warmth of the day. It was as if the world was mirroring your own emotions—caught in a delicate balance between light and darkness, peace and tension.

You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you watched the waves. Sarah sat beside you, her gaze also fixed on the horizon. For a while, neither of you spoke, content to just be in each other’s company. The quiet between you was comfortable, a welcome reprieve from the turmoil that so often surrounded you.

But even in the calm, your thoughts kept drifting back to Rafe. His anger, his pain—it was like a storm that loomed over you, always threatening to break. You knew it wasn’t fair to place all the blame on him, but his behavior had shaped so much of your life at Tannyhill. And no matter how much you tried to avoid it, you couldn’t escape the impact he had on you.

“Do you ever wish things were different?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Sarah looked at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Different how?”

You sighed, searching for the right words. “I don’t know. I just… I wish things weren’t so complicated. I wish I didn’t feel like I have to tiptoe around Rafe all the time. I wish I could just… be.”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that,” she said finally. “I wish things were different too. I wish Rafe could see that we’re all on the same side, that we’re family. But it’s like he’s stuck in this loop of anger and resentment, and he can’t break out of it.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of sadness. “Do you think he ever will?”

“I hope so,” Sarah replied, her voice soft. “But I don’t know. Sometimes, it feels like he’s so far gone that nothing can reach him. But other times… I see glimpses of the old Rafe, the one who cared about us. I just wish those moments lasted longer.”

Her words echoed your own feelings—this constant push and pull between hope and despair, between believing that things could get better and fearing that they never would. It was exhausting, living with that uncertainty, but it was all you had.

“I don’t know how to help him,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know if I can.”

Sarah turned to you, her eyes filled with empathy. “You’ve already helped him more than you realize. Just by being here, by not giving up on him, you’re doing more than most people would. And I think, deep down, he knows that. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

You looked at her, surprised by her words. “You really think so?”

She nodded, her expression sincere. “I do. Rafe’s angry, but he’s not heartless. He’s just… lost. And maybe, in time, he’ll find his way back. But until then, we just have to keep being there for him, even when it’s hard.”

Her words gave you a small glimmer of hope, something to hold onto in the darkness. Maybe Sarah was right—maybe there was still a chance for Rafe to change, for things to get better. It wouldn’t be easy, and it wouldn’t happen overnight, but you were willing to try. For Sarah, for yourself, and maybe even for Rafe.

The two of you sat in silence for a while longer, watching as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky. The air had cooled, and you found yourself shivering slightly. Sarah noticed and nudged you with her shoulder. “Come on, let’s head back. It’s getting cold.”

You nodded, standing up and brushing the sand off your clothes. As you followed Sarah back up the path to the house, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread creeping in. The peace you had found on the beach was fleeting, and you knew that once you stepped back inside Tannyhill, the tension would return.

But you couldn’t avoid it forever. You had to face Rafe, and you had to find a way to live in this fractured family. It was the only way things would ever change.

As you approached the house, you caught sight of a figure standing by the front door. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized it was Rafe. He was leaning against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the glow of the ember illuminating his face in the darkness.

Sarah stiffened beside you, her steps faltering for a moment before she continued forward. You followed her lead, trying to keep your breathing steady as you approached Rafe. His eyes flicked to you, a scowl already forming on his face.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked, his tone laced with irritation.

“Just down at the beach,” Sarah replied, her voice calm. “Needed some fresh air.”

Rafe’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes narrowing. “What about you? Hiding out again?”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just… trying to stay out of your way.”

Rafe let out a bitter laugh, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Yeah, right. You always have to be where you’re not wanted, don’t you?”

You flinched at his words, the sting of them hitting you harder than you expected. But before you could respond, Sarah stepped in, her tone firm. “Rafe, don’t. She’s just trying to keep the peace.”

Rafe glared at her, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the usual anger. “Whatever,” he muttered, tossing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. “I’m going out.”

He pushed past you both, his shoulder brushing yours as he walked away. You watched him go, the tension in your chest returning with full force.

“Let him go,” Sarah said quietly, placing a hand on your arm. “He needs to cool off.”

You nodded, your eyes still fixed on Rafe’s retreating figure. As much as you wanted to believe that there was hope for him, moments like this made it hard to hold onto that belief.

But you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t give up. Not yet. Not until you had tried everything.

With a deep breath, you turned back to the house, following Sarah inside. The warmth of the house was a stark contrast to the coldness you felt inside, but you forced yourself to push those feelings aside.

For now, all you could do was take it one day at a time, hoping that eventually, the storm would pass, and there would be something left worth saving.

-

The warmth of the house greeted you as you stepped inside, but it did little to chase away the chill that had settled in your bones. The encounter with Rafe had left you rattled, and no matter how much you tried to push it aside, it lingered in the back of your mind like a dark cloud.

As the night grew deeper, Sarah suggested heading to bed, and you agreed. The exhaustion was starting to weigh on you, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes open much longer.

But as you made your way up the stairs and to your room, your mind was still racing, your thoughts still tangled in the web of emotions that had been spun over the course of the day.

You paused outside your door, glancing down the hallway toward Rafe’s room. The door was closed, and the light was off, but you knew he wasn’t asleep.

You could feel his presence like a shadow, lurking just out of sight. The anger, the resentment—it was all still there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the next opportunity to boil over.

With a heavy sigh, you turned away and entered your room, closing the door behind you. The familiar surroundings did little to comfort you tonight, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you like a lead blanket.

You changed into your pajamas and slipped into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin in a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had settled in your bones.

As you lay there in the darkness, your thoughts kept drifting back to Rafe. You couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind, what demons he was battling in the privacy of his own room.

You wished you could reach out to him, break through the walls he had built around himself, but you didn’t know how.And maybe, deep down, you were afraid that if you did, you would only find more anger, more pain—more reasons to keep your distance.

Sleep came slowly that night, your mind refusing to quiet down long enough for you to drift off. When you finally did fall asleep, it was restless, filled with fragmented dreams that left you feeling more exhausted than before. But even in your sleep, only a name remained constant.

-

You tried to sleep, but your mind refused to let go of the events of the day. The tension between you and Rafe was like a thorn lodged deep, impossible to ignore and growing more painful with every passing moment. You tossed and turned, the silence of the house amplifying the thoughts racing through your mind. Finally, you gave up, deciding that lying in bed, wide awake, would do nothing to ease the unrest.

Quietly, you slipped out of bed and made your way to the window. You pulled the curtain aside, letting the moonlight spill into the room. Outside, the world was still, the garden bathed in silver light. The sight should have been calming, but it only made the turmoil inside you feel even more out of place.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed a sweater and tiptoed out of your room. You needed to clear your head, and the fresh air might help. As you moved through the dark hallway, your steps were cautious, avoiding the spots that creaked. The last thing you wanted was to wake anyone up, least of all Rafe.

But as you passed his door, something made you stop. The door was slightly ajar, and a sliver of light spilled into the hallway. Your heart rate quickened. Rafe was awake. You hesitated, debating whether to go on with your plan to escape outside or to check on him.

Part of you wanted to keep walking, to avoid another confrontation that might end with more hurtful words, but another part of you was drawn to him—curious, worried even. Before you could overthink it, you stepped closer and gently pushed the door open.

Rafe was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. His room was a mess, with clothes and other belongings strewn about carelessly. He didn’t notice you at first, too absorbed in his own thoughts. But the moment your shadow fell across the threshold, he looked up, his eyes narrowing.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, his voice low but filled with irritation.

You swallowed, not entirely sure what had driven you to enter. “I couldn’t sleep,” you said softly, taking a cautious step forward. “I saw your light was on.”

Rafe’s gaze flicked to the bedside lamp, as if realizing it was on for the first time. He looked back at you, his expression hardening. “So what? You came to check on me? Don’t bother.”

The sharpness of his tone made you wince, but you didn’t retreat. You stood your ground, despite the tension crackling in the air between you.

“Rafe,” you started, trying to keep your voice steady, “I just… I wanted to see if you were okay.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. You don’t need to pretend like you care. You’re just another person in this house who’s waiting for me to screw up."

His words stung, but they didn’t surprise you. You’d heard them before, in different forms, always laced with the same bitterness. Still, hearing them now, when you had genuinely been concerned, cut deep.

“That’s not true,” you said quietly. “I do care, Rafe. Whether you believe it or not.”

He stood up abruptly, making you take a step back. His eyes bore into yours, intense and full of emotion that he kept bottled up most of the time. “Why? Why do you care, huh? You’re not even really part of this family. You’re just some—”

He stopped himself, but the words hung heavy in the air. Just some outsider, some girl who was forced into his life, someone who would never really belong.

You felt the lump forming in your throat, but you refused to let the tears fall. Not in front of him. “You’re right,” you said, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. “Maybe I don’t belong. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about what happens to you.”

Rafe stared at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought you saw something soften in his gaze, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar mask of anger and resentment.

“Don’t waste your time on me,” he said finally, his voice cold. “You’re better off staying away.”

The finality in his tone was like a door slamming shut. It was clear he didn’t want you there, didn’t want your concern or your attempts to reach out. But instead of retreating, you took a deep breath and pushed back.

“I can’t do that, Rafe,” you said, surprising even yourself with the firmness in your voice. “I can’t just pretend like you don’t matter. You’re my brother, whether you like it or not.”

Rafe’s eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite identify—anger, hurt, maybe even fear. But he didn’t respond, just stood there, staring at you like he was waiting for you to leave.

When you realized he wasn’t going to say anything more, you turned away, feeling the sting of rejection but refusing to let it break you. You paused at the door, looking back at him one last time.

“If you ever want to talk… I’m here,” you offered, even though you knew he wouldn’t take you up on it.

With that, you left the room, closing the door softly behind you. You leaned against it for a moment, letting out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

This was going to be harder than you thought, but you weren’t ready to give up on Rafe. Not yet. There was something underneath all that anger, something worth saving, and you were determined to find it—even if it meant getting hurt in the process.

[irisintheafterglow]

hii iris!! being one of my fav writers, i was wondering if it would be okay to please request you write something halloween related between Satoru and reader while they're in a lowkey relationship and instructors at jujutsu tech? maybe he drags reader and the students on some night of shenanigans? up to u, i just love how u write and i feel you'd kill this hehe

thank u so much! have an awesome day!

life's no fun without a good scare

summary: you have the brilliant idea of playing hide and seek in a corn maze against the most powerful sorcerer in the world. should be fun, right?

wc: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff and crack and crack and fluff, established relationship, swearing (a lot of it, you'll see why lol), mentions of eating, angst if you squint, co-parenting megumi AND his friends!!

note: AAAA hi!! thank you so much for the love omg :')) i hope you like this, i definitely enjoyed writing it even though i did get a tad carried away lol. GOD this was so fun to write, thank you for suggesting it

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3 thank you for your support!!

“I’m going to eat so much candy, I’ll throw up.”

“What’re those tubs over there?”

“They’re for waterboarding Itadori,” Megumi deadpans without hesitation, clearly misrepresenting the apple bobbing game just ahead. You state his name warningly, like he was six years old again, and he mutters a half-hearted apology under his breath. “Maybe we switch out the victim for our esteemed teacher, instead.” You cover a snort with an unsuccessful cough. Even though you’d practically raised him, his jabs at Satoru never lost their humor. 

“Your suggestion will be taken into careful consideration,” you say, “though it will become more of a possibility if he continues to run on Satoru-time.” Nobara hums in agreement, kicking a stray piece of hay with her toe while you continue to progress through the general admission line to the pumpkin patch. Your fashionably-late boyfriend had sent you a very cryptic text at noon, instructing you to “pack up the kids and take them to the following address.” When you replied with a chain of question marks, he sent an infuriatingly unserious GIF that had you pinching the bridge of your nose.

“What time did he tell you?”

“5:00.” You check your phone preemptively, already anticipating the followup question. 

“And what time is it now?”

“5:20,” you sigh, sliding your card across the shelf of the ticket booth and receiving four orange wristbands in return. After slipping them onto the wrists of your three unofficial children, Itadori and Nobara immediately disappear into the crowd; Megumi, however, stays plastered to your shoulder and makes his distaste for the bustling festival known. You scan nearby groups of people for a tall idiot with white hair with no luck. If Satoru still showed up, he would have to pay for admission himself. “Let’s grab a table and find me a bottle of soju–”

“Barely twenty minutes and you’re already drinking? Since when did Shoko replace my lovely partner?” Satoru’s sing-song voice calls out from behind you, like he’d been standing with you the entire time. Despite your attempts to remain irritated at him, you can’t resist when he turns you around, lacing his fingers with yours and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Hi, gorgeous. What took you so long?”

“I assumed you were running late, like you always do,” you argue futilely, the world melting away when you catch his eyes over the rims of his sunglasses. “Is this not too overwhelming for you? Having so many energy signatures in one place?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures you with a confident wave of his hand. “After all, I have your energy to ground me.” Your legs start to feel a bit gelatinous when you hear a very obvious throat clearing itself and suddenly remember that Megumi is still standing there. “Shouldn’t you be on the playground or something, my dear student?”

“Shouldn’t you be on the playground or something, my questionable teacher?” You burst out laughing and your boyfriend’s jaw drops in indignance, gearing up to say something just as childish. On instinct, you cover his mouth with your hand, recoiling in disgust when his tongue darts out to lick your palm. “Gross. I’m gonna find my friends.” 

“Don’t do anything dumb!” The boy waves his hand dismissively and you roll your eyes. In a different universe where he actually was the child of you and Satoru, he had his father’s sass gene. 

“He’s used to this by now, isn’t he?” Satoru chuckles and it reverberates against your body, making your head spin in lovesick circles.

“I’d imagine so, seeing as we did raise him like this,” you answer, letting him start to guide you toward whatever stand interests him first, his arm draped over your shoulders. “Do you think Yuuji and Nobara have figured it out?”

“If Megs hasn’t told them, then definitely not,” he states with utmost certainty, looking over one of the games with all the concentration of a hunting tiger. In the middle of the stall was a large pool of water, and swirling around in it were small, colorful bowls in the shape of blooming flowers. The goal, you guessed, was to land a small ball in a certain color and get a corresponding prize from the lineup hanging overhead. It was truly an enticing array of stuffed animals, too, from wolves and monkeys to dinosaurs and little princess dolls. “Which one do you want?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” 

“Choose a prize and I’ll get it for you, guaranteed.” 

“Guaranteed? You do know these are designed to scam you, right?”

“And I am designed to do whatever you want, so take your pick.” After a moment of consideration, you point to a stuffie of a black cat wearing a pumpkin costume. “Cute choice.”

“It reminds me of Megs.” He laughs and pulls his arm back, stretching his neck from side to side and handing a few dollars to the game attendant. It was all for show and completely unnecessary, and he knew that; he also knew that his over-the-top shenanigans always made you laugh after a stressful week. Whether you knew it or not, he’d noticed you were increasingly overwhelmed by all the work from the previous days, specifically regarding training his students while he was off on an assignment. Along with completing your own missions, you were supervising the three first years and guiding them through boring paperwork, which he knew made you feel like shit. It’s why he suggested you go to the festival in the first place, to get your mind off of work and spend time with you. And, he’d be damned if he didn’t get you that fuzzy little cat on his first try. 

“Watch the master at work, sweetheart,” is the last thing he says before carefully tossing the first of three balls toward the only purple bowl in the pool. He’s the tiniest bit off, though, and he curses under his breath as it ricochets against the edge and into the water. “That was a practice shot.”

“Sure, baby, sure,” you giggle, stifling your amusement into a fist. His tongue peeks out the side of his mouth in absentminded focus and you’re sure he’s found the perfect arc when the voice of one of his students cheers from behind you. 

“You’ve got this!” Despite their well wishes, Yuuji and Nobara accidentally timed their cheers at the precise moment his fingers let go of the ball, messing up his aim even worse than the first time. They deflate in embarrassment and Megumi’s face turns red from trying not to laugh. The usual deadly aura radiating off of him increases tenfold and it makes you shiver despite the warm autumn air. “T-Third time’s the charm, sir!”

“Fucking hell, why do I even bother–”

“Satoru, that’s cheating,” you whisper, sensing him imbuing the tiniest amount of Cursed Energy into the last ball to easily manipulate its trajectory. “I can just buy the thing online; you don’t need to be doing all of this.”

“I can buy you anything online, but I also want to prove that I’m better than everyone else,” he mutters much too seriously than the situation required. “Plus, once I win that damn cat, it’ll have a nice story to go behind it.” 

“Your ego truly knows no bounds.”

“You know you love it.”

A minute later, you’re walking away from the game with the fuzzy cat in your arms and Satoru’s arrogant smirk by your side. The rest of the night is spent watching him drag his students into various inflatable obstacle courses and tumbling down the slide after they push him over the edge. In spite of all the excitement, you have to drag them to a picnic table to sit and eat; even then, the three students challenge their teacher to a funnel cake eating contest. To no one’s surprise, Yuuji wins by a landslide. 

Satoru pays for everything, of course. When someone wanders over to a game booth, he pays for their game every single time and continues to pay until they win a prize. By the end of the night, all five of you have at least one prize in your possession and Satoru’s bank account is barely affected. 

Before the fair closes, you propose a game of hide and seek in the gigantic corn maze. You and the three students would get a five minute head start, and then Satoru would enter and race to find you before you reached the other side. The first years’ eyes shine with excitement when you tell them they can use techniques as long as they don’t make a mess. You consider throwing a veil over the entire thing, just to make sure Megumi’s dogs don’t start any rumors of hellhounds in the area. 

“If the kids can use theirs, then you’re not allowed to use your technique,” Satoru concludes and you make a noise of indignation while you gameplan by the entrance of the maze. “Don’t start with me; that’s totally fair!”

“I don’t understand how that’s fair in any way,” you argue up at his ridiculously confident smirk. You wanted to slap him and make out with him at the same time, none of which would have been appropriate in present company. 

“You make portals, sweetheart. If we’re making the maze a no-fly zone and I run into one of your doorways, I’m gonna be in there for the rest of time.”

“I’ll just make simple doors!” 

“The last time you said that, I was stuck on a mountain for three hours,” he reminds you and you huff in defeat, completely forgetting the three pairs of eyes watching this entire conversation. Sweetheart? Since when did he call anyone sweetheart? Nobara and Yuuji knew that you both were friends from high school, but the bickering seemed suspiciously akin to that of an old married couple. They glance at their spiky haired friend for confirmation of their theories, but he avoids their gaze and continues munching on pumpkin spice popcorn. “Alright, five minutes on the clock. Don’t let me catch you,” he smiles wickedly and you all but shove the three students into the maze. 

In a blink, Megumi summons his dogs and sends them to look for the exit. As you sprint down straightaways, Nobara intermittently sticks a few nails into the walls, essentially creating security sensors that will trigger if Satoru passes by it. It also helps establish what paths you’ve already explored and where you need to go next. In what feels like seconds, five minutes is gone and your heart drops as you see a black veil descend over the maze. The atmosphere of the maze feels electric, like wind before a storm, and you nervously laugh and urge the students to move faster. 

“So, are we ever going to talk about you and Gojo?” 

“That’s what you’re focused on right now?” You shoot back in amusement and Nobara shrugs, sending another nail into the corn with a strike of her hammer. “I don’t think this is the proper place to have this conversation!”

“So, are you two actually dating? Megumi won’t say anything, but he’s a terrible liar when we ask if he knows something!”

“I think the latter shooting ominous strikes of lightning into the air is a more pressing issue!”

“Lightning strikes which, I’ll add, are increasingly getting closer!” Yuuji’s voice rises to a panicked yelp and you curse in disbelief as your group slams into another dead end, giggling from sheer fear and swatting the students to find another way. All the while, blasts of pure Cursed Energy fly upward like fireworks, illuminating the field in terrifying shades of blue and red. “Any status on the nails?”

“He just passed the third one closest to us,” Nobara reports, face slowly losing color as the most powerful sorcerer in the world hunts you down. “You can’t send Nue to stall him?”

“You think a bird is going to stop Gojo Satoru?” 

“Well, your damn dogs haven’t come back yet and we’re running out of options–” The back-and-forth is cut short by a faint howl coming from the back right corner of the maze, just a few hundred yards away. One of the dogs appears from the floor, hooking a sharp right turn that has you four stumbling to catch up to it. The howls continue, as do the strikes of lightning, while you follow the dog to what you assume is the exit. “The nails haven’t picked up his energy signature in a while,” Nobara informs you in slight relief while the howling grows closer with every step. Yuuji’s mouth breaks into a victorious grin, but you and Megumi aren’t convinced. 

“Does that mean we lost him? Or did he get lost?” 

“Something doesn’t feel right,” you mutter low enough for only Megumi to hear and he nods in agreement. “I don’t feel him anywhere.” 

“That cracking behind us is just the corn, right?” Yuuji’s voice becomes uncertain and the static in the air only becomes more palpable. You’re so close to the exit and you can tell he’s getting nearer, but something in your gut tells you that you can beat him. But, Nobara’s realization makes your blood run cold. 

“Wait, I don’t sense any of my nails anymore–” 

“Found you.”

Your throats rip a collectively brutal screech as Satoru’s voice seems to come from directly behind you, and you glance backward to only see a pair of knife-sharp blue eyes staring through the black corridor of the maze. Colorful curses of fear babble from the mouths of the students and you slam your feet even harder into the ground as you sprint for the exit. The bright lights of the pumpkin sign were in sight; you just had to make it a little farther. 

“Elephant, elephant, elephant!” Yuuji’s suggestion comes out as incoherent yelps and he tries to fire off black flashes to no avail. Megumi looks at him like he’d grown four new limbs. 

“What?!”

“Summon the fucking elephant, Fushiguro!” A nail rockets away behind you only to be immediately sent back, embedding itself in the husk by your feet. 

“I hate to break it to you, but the elephant isn’t going to do anything when–”

“When I’m already right behind you,” he whispers directly into your ear and you scream as his footsteps line up with yours and his arms snake under your legs, lifting you off the ground like you weighed no more than a cotton ball. He disappears with you into darkness, firing off a single precise attack that cuts the lights of the entire exit so that the path is pitch black. Somehow, you end up outside of the maze while the three students continue to panic inside and he gently sets you on your feet. His menacing aura disappears in a blink and he nuzzles his nose into your neck, his arms holding you close by your waist. “I found you,” he says with a smile. 

“You did. I know you always do, eventually.”

“Mhmm. Did you have fun?”

“Honestly, that was the most terrifying experience of my entire existence,” you laugh, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging him even closer. He chuckles warmly, ironically just as quiet as the fearful bickering of your students in the maze. You barely feel any sweat on his forehead against your shoulder and you can’t even imagine how messy you looked after running for your life. “I look like shit, don’t I?”

“You’ve never looked prettier,” he murmurs, pulling away briefly to press a kiss to your cheek. “We should probably go grab the kids.” You hum absentmindedly, vaguely making out the voices of Megumi and Yuuji trying to figure out which way to go. 

“Stay here a little longer. Let them think you’ve taken me away to your scary vampire lair, or something.”

“As you wish, sweetheart. I'll be your scary vampire anytime.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[sturniololoco]

i LOVEDDD the pregnancy one!! can you do more like that like maybe when she has the baby and how they help her?

Pregnant pt 2

Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo Triplets

Warnings: baby spit up, tiredness, cuteness overload, etc.?

Note: This is so perfect bc I'm ab to get another little sibling tomorrow! (Don't mind the age gap lol)

Chris's POV

Why does giving birth to a child take so damn long?

SLS/N was finally giving birth to her little girl today, so Matt, Nick, and I were sitting in the waiting room, bouncing our legs and biting our nails, waiting.

Soon, a nurse came out into the room, asking for the Sturniolo family. The three of us immediately stood and followed her to a room.

"Which one of you is the husband?" the nurse asked, making small talk as we walked down the hallways.

all of our faces burned bright red at her question.

"O-Oh, no! She's our sister!" I said, giving a light laugh along with my brothers.

She stopped in front of a room and opened the door. Putting a finger to her lips, she motioned us inside, then left us there, closing the door again behind her.

We nervously walked around the corner to see SLS/N sitting up against the pillows of her hospital bed, holding a freshly bathed baby girl.

We smiled at her, quietly coming next to her and giving her a side hug.

"Hey, kiddo. How ya feelin'?" I asked my little sister, kissing her on top of her head. I knew it hurt her, but she was tough. She was gonna love this kid with her whole heart.

"I'm doing pretty good actually." She said. She had the biggest of smiles on her face, and it never stopped shining.

"You guys wanna meet Charleigh?" She asked motioning to the baby in her arms. We all smiled, leaning down to say hello.

"Hello, little Charleigh! It's your favorite, Uncle Chris!" I said, rubbing my finger over her soft smooth hand. I internally cringed at my baby voice, but at this point, I didn't even care.

SLS/N giggled, lifting her up to get me a better look at her face.

"Here, why don't you hold her." She asked, getting up out of bed gently so as not to wake her sleeping baby.

"I-Uh...Ok," I said.

I was kind of scared to hold her.

What if I drop her? What if she wakes up? What if she cries? What if-

My thoughts were cut off by SLS/N placing her in my arms, and showing me how to hold her. She sat me down on the couch and put a pillow under my arm.

Charleigh only moved a little, but then went right back to sleep. I let out a nervous breath I had been holding in, relieved as I realized that this was not as scary as I thought.

"She's so perfect," I say, looking down at her and smiling.

"Now that's a good picture!" Nick says, holding up his phone to snap a shot.

-

Matt's POV

The next day, SLS/N and the baby were discharged from the hospital and ready to get home.

SLS/N was carrying the baby in her car seat, the one that took Chris and me 2 and a half hours to get the base in the car.

She put Charleigh into the car and then climbed in next to her, Nick in the way back, Chris in the front next to me.

Then It hit me.

I'm driving a newborn baby. What if we crash? What if I run off a bridge? what if-

"Matt? You okay?" I hear SLS/N ask me.

"I-Uh...No. what if something goes wrong? It'll be all my fault! And then-" I start rambling, my anxiety flooding through my veins.

"Hey, hey. Listen to me. I trust you more than anyone in the world to drive my baby and me home. If I didn't, then I wouldn't put her in the car. But you're the only person I would want to drive in this situation, okay?"

Her words instantly calmed me. I began to feel braver, happy that she felt like she could put so much trust in me. I back out of the parking lot and make our way home.

-

Nick's POV

We pull into the driveway and my sister gets the baby out of the car. she then walks to the back to get her stuff.

But I beat her to it.

"Don't be silly SLS/N! You just had a fucking baby, go sit down and I'll get the stuff." I order her.

I really want to help my sister as much as I can, she's already been through so much. I want to support her through all her decisions, showing her that I love and support her.

"Aw, thanks, Nick!" She says, walking into the house after Matt, who had just unlocked the door.

I grab her and the baby's bags, then walk into the house after her.

-

"Hey Sis, I made you a surprise!" I say to my sister, walking into the living room with a plate behind my back.

She had just gotten Charleigh asleep in Matt's room since it was the closest to the living room. She was now lounging on the couch with Matt and Chris.

She sits up and claps her hands, closing her eyes. I place the plate in front of her.

"Oh fuck yeah!" she says, digging into the quesidllia I made her. I laugh as she sighs in delight. I have no ide why she even likes these that much, I can't cook worth a shit.

as she sets her plate down on the table, she scoots closer to the three of us, wrapping her arms around our necks in a big group hug.

"I love you guys," She says, squeezing us tight.

Just as I was about to respond, I heard a cry on the baby monitor.

"I'll get her!" Chris shouts, jumping up to retrieve our new favorite niece.

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq

[strlingsav]

Hello there, may I also request in a breeding kink ghost 🫣

Sure thing! Thanks for asking!

Yours

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Simon fantasizes about making you his.

Two

Warnings: breeding kink. Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Ghost was intimidating, that much was obvious. But you'd seen the other side, the side that could be soft and sparing. It took a few years before he truly trusted you enough to make something of the tension between the two of you.

The fleeting touches, longing stares, quick glances over his shoulder. He'd keep his eyes on you wherever you went, a possessive compulsion he couldn't help but feed into, not when you had so easily pulled him in and kept him trapped with your suffocating touch, feel and smell.

He wasn't too proud to admit he wanted you all to himself. He thought he would loathe the distraction, the gnawing in his gut that screamed for you, all the fucking time. It was never-ending torture; he truly didn't understand how you managed to have him so absolutely devoted. But, the thought of you made him the happiest he'd ever been, likely the happiest he'd ever be.

He liked knowing you were his. The only thing missing was a ring and some kids, but you weren't quite there yet. He knew, and was thankful that you were on preventatives. However, the idea of you carrying his child made him almost combust. It was most primal, obvious way to show you were his.

He'd never experienced that type of need before; but with you, it was the only thing he could ever think about when he was inside you. It drove him wild, how fucking hot you'd be, waddling around the apartment, rounded out with the unborn child inside you. His unborn child. Staying home, looking after his kids, providing for you, protecting you. So, he did what he truly loved, the only thing that would satiate the aching desire: burying his cum deep inside you.

You'd returned to your apartment and had a quick shower before dinner. Simon was usually home later, but you'd make the most of it by cleaning and finishing the laundry.

You wrapped the towel around your body, then your head shot up to the bedroom door as it opened. Simon walked in, like he was looking desperately for something.

"Simon? What're you doing home?"

He slowed as he neared you, his hands taking hold of your waist. He didn't answer, instead, he pressed his lips against yours, tugging you closer. He pulled the towel off your body, and lifted you to his hips. You gasped at the flurry of actions, and especially as his palms gripped your ass to hold you against him.

"Been thinkin' about you all day," He mumbled against your neck, vibrations of his voice travelling through your body. "Thinkin' about fuckin' you all damn day."

You smiled coyly, a light blush dusting over your cheeks. You laughed.

"You're home early," You said, wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

He lifted his head to look at you, and still had his mask on. He must've been in a rush, as it was only haphazardly rolled up to his nose bridge.

"Couldn't wait," He sighed, laying you down beneath him on the bed.

Your insides were turning to mush slowly. He flattered your ego and simultaneously made you weak in his hands. He knew exactly what to say- not purposely, either, which made it even harder to resist his antics, especially when you'd just showered.

When his hand reached down to feel the soft skin of your pussy, he let out a strangled sigh.

"Just- just let me fuck you," He said, his lips closing in on yours. "Miss the way you feel."

You swallowed, nodding slowly when he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips briefly, and you took your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hand fell to the crown of his head, sliding it over his balaclava, and watched his lips engulf your breast. His hands took charge, squeezing your plush flesh in his palms, calloused hands scratching against your velvet skin.

His warm lips and tongue left a trail of kisses to your hip bones, and his hands gripped your thighs, lifting them to his shoulders as he lowered himself to your pussy. He hadn't quite touched you yet, his eyes glued to the vision of your body, your waist and hips, the softness in your edges, your breasts. He looked up at you, meeting your gaze as he extended his tongue to your clit.

You quickly shut your eyes, basking in the heat of his tongue, the pleasure of stimulation. He didn't waste any time, either. He was already inserting a finger by the time you'd gotten used to his tongue flicking over your clit. The desperation and hunger in his movements lead you to believe him; he really couldn't wait.

"Simon," You choked out. "Sl-slow down." Your fingers tugged at the mask on his head.

He did- a bit. Not enough to tell much difference, just enough to let you actually enjoy the feeling of his fingers curling inside you, his mouth sucking and mouthing your clit. You sighed, laying back against the pillow, jutting your hips up to allow him better access. He hummed appreciatively, his fingers digging into your thighs.

He was still fully dressed, only missing his vest and boots, wearing a button-up and his tactical pants. He didn't much care for being fully undressed, but if you asked he'd remove every last article of clothing. Usually, you would've, but the haste in his actions didn't allow for much conversation.

He had taken a moment to appreciate the view of your pussy, his fingers deep inside, liquid arousal soaking his fingers while he tucked them inside you. The sound alone was vulgar- and it only served to arouse him even more.

He attached his lips to your clit again, and your hands roamed your body, gently squeezing your breasts and running down your stomach to meet his head again. You gave a few approving strokes to his head, moaning softly when he hit a particularly good spot- making your hips jerk up into him. He was relentless, one of your favourite things about him, and observant.

His tongue didn't stop, caressing the same spot over and over, flexing his fingers in the way he knew you loved, until your thighs were shaking over his shoulders and your toes were curling.

"Shit," You exhaled, your abdomen tightening with the beginnings of your orgasm.

"Yeah?" He asked- a derisive question, but it pushed you even closer. "Give it to me, sweetheart," He whispered.

You arched your back, an instinctual response to get him even closer. You came against his mouth, your pussy constricting his fingers, spasming, while pure ecstasy flooded your body.

He knew to go easier on you, to soften his touch, but he didn't want to this time, he wanted to hear you cry out when his tongue made it difficult to think of anything else.

When you began to push his head away, he relented, letting your weakened thighs fall to the bed. You exhaled harshly, wrapping your arms around him as he shifted over your body.

"Turn over," He said, low and raspy in your ear.

Even post-orgasm, it gave you chills. A lick of heat up your spine that just reignited the fuse of arousal.

You obliged, and turned over, with his help, settling on your hands and knees. You heard the undoing of his belt and fatigues behind you, and peered over your shoulder with your prying eyes and a sight too tempting to ignore.

He yanked his briefs down, exposing his cock. Practically pulsating, leaking pre-cum. You felt the head of his cock press against your entrance, a slow, steady glide in until his pelvis was pressed flush against your ass, and you were forced down to the pillow.

You sighed aloud, a heavy, guttural sigh as you relished in the relief of him inside you. You arched your back further, your arms reaching out in front of you to clench the pillow in your hands.

He waited a moment- his head fell back, staring at the ceiling while he took in the heavenly feeling of your pussy; soaked, hugging his cock with silky walls. He shuddered, letting a glottal breath out, pulling back before gliding back in.

He leaned forward, his chest moulding to the arch of your back, and let his free hand reach under to wrap around your throat.

You breathed heavily, waiting patiently for his next move, writhing with anticipation, inexplicably aroused by the large hand squeezing your trachea.

He moved his hips, an upward motion as he pushed himself into you. You gasped softly, and fell into his hands when he was all that held your head up.

"Ah- fuck," He grunted, his voice in your ear.

He continued thrusting into you, his other hand beside your head to hold himself up, and kept himself close as possible.

"Simon," You breathed, a praising sound that made him groan.

"Tell me, sweetheart," He was breathing heavier, already incredibly aroused just from eating your pussy, and knew it wouldn't be long. "Y'like this cock in you?"

You whimpered, broken and weak, nodding mindlessly.

"Yeah, baby, fuck, I do."

He moaned, and the raspiness in his tone made goosebumps appear over your skin. He smelled of gunpowder and that bitter cologne you'd bought him for his birthday.

He rounded his hips, driving his cock into you with vigour, so deep it nearly knocked the wind out of you. He left you trying to catch your breath beneath him, hands gripping the pillow with white knuckles and breathless gasps. He could feel every breath, every inhale, every soft moan that passed your larynx, savouring the way you called his name.

"C-Christ-" He stuttered, his hand easing off your throat to grip your waist with both hands, leveraging himself as he pounded into you. "This cunt feels so fuckin' good, sweetheart."

"You're so deep," You whispered, a strangled sound from your throat as you were pushed against the pillows.

"Fuckin' hell- you want my cum sweetheart?"

"Yes, baby, please," You wallowed, eyes squeezing shut.

"Fuckin' say it," He grunted, his palm coming down across your ass as he bucked into you.

"Fuck," You cried, your teeth clenching. "I want your cum!"

"That's right-" Another low grunt. "Want my fuckin' cum, greedy fuckin' slag."

Your mouth widened in shock; both because of how much it turned you on, and how absolutely vulgar he sounded.

"Oh my god," You groaned.

"You'd let me use this fuckin' cunt, wouldn't you?"

You nodded, a short nod almost unnoticeable with all the motions of your body moving forward with each of his thrusts.

"Just might put a baby in you, sweetheart," He said, his hand moving from your waist to trace up your spine, digging into your hair. He yanked your head back, pulling you up to your hands and knees. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" He was breathless now, his other hand on your hip bone as he forced you up against his chest.

"Simon," You whispered, a plea for relief from the relentless thrusting in your sore pussy. But he wouldn't relent, not until he heard the words from you, begging him to make you a mother.

"Say it, sweetheart."

He was buried against your G-spot with the new position, his fingertips were bruising your hip, his other hand still tangled in your locks as he flaunted his stamina.

"Yes," You rasped. "Yes, I would."

He groaned, not a subtle, soft sound, but an animalistic growl, approval, ownership. He pressed his lips to your throat, his fingers leaving your hip to reach your clit, rubbing soft circles against it.

"You want me to fuck a kid into you? Make you all fuckin' mine?"

You couldn't help the moan that passed your lips, a genuine response to the idea of being pregnant with his child. You knew Simon adored cumming inside you, but never expected it to turn into something so much more. It turned you on, much more than you thought it would.

"Yes, Simon, fuck, yes," You whined, looking over your shoulder.

Soft exhales left your lips as your climax began again, tensing against his body.

He mocked you when he felt the obvious change in your body, your pussy squeezing down on him. "You wanna be used just for this cunt. Just for me, just for my fuckin' kids. That's it, ain't it?"

Your body went rigid, your orgasm rendering you completely unintelligible as you nodded, crying out with a 'yes'. You nearly keeled over, and he let you down onto the bed, now chasing his own climax.

"All this cunt's good for," He grunted. "Tits nice and full, feedin' my kids," A nasally moan, "'M gonna bury all my fuckin' cum in you, sweetheart."

You nodded again, no longer strong enough to respond or react.

He did, with short, sporadic thrusts as he climaxed inside you, gripping your waist with suffocating strength. He let out one last moan, and a deep breath in before he slowly pulled out.

He was fascinated, watching his cum drip out of your pussy. You felt raw- irritated, sore. Then, he slid a finger inside, pushing it back up in you. You sighed, flipping over.

"You want kids?" You said, a teasing smile on your face.

He grinned softly, finally removing the mask from over his head.

"Give us a few years, I'm sure we'll have a couple by then."

"At this rate, yeah."

[happy74827]

Beyond Repair

[William Afton x Wife!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite everything he’s done, so far the only consequence he’s received is marriage counseling {GIF Creds: @bittwitchy// Tagging @moonbanana-library because I feel like you’ll enjoy this}

WC: 2595

Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst [TW — Afton, cursing, small mentions of 18+ content]

Don’t we love random sparks of inspiration at four in the morning? I sure do 💀

『••✎••』

You were always a clueless little thing.

You saw the world with rose-tinted glasses, and you believed in everyone. You saw the best in people, and you wanted to see the world like that.

And it wasn't a bad way to look at things; it kept you innocent and full of light. William, however, wasn't as good as you were. He had seen the world for what it was, and he knew how the world worked.

He'd lost his innocence, and he had seen bad things… done bad things. Sure, he was good with kids, but he had a secret side that he knew would completely crumble the way you saw the world, how you saw him.

So, despite everything, he made sure you'd never know. He kept the darker side of himself out of your view. And he did everything he could to be the husband you thought he was.

Soon, that husband's facade became a father's facade, and you had a beautiful daughter who had his eyes and your smile.

But he knew the truth.

He'd never been a good man. Not even close.

The moment his eyes landed on you, the day he'd met you, the years he got to spend with you, and the day he had asked you to be his wife. Every step in between, he knew that he didn't deserve any of it. He knew that he should have let you go.

But he was selfish.

He needed you. He loved you. Your innocence was refreshing. And your optimism was addicting.

William knew that he didn't deserve anything, except for maybe an early death. Yet, despite knowing all that, he was greedy. He was an ambitious man, and he took every opportunity that presented itself to him.

Even if that meant hurting the ones around him.

Because you see, the only thing in this world he wanted more than your love was the recognition he'd never gotten. And the respect.

So when he'd built his pizzeria and made his animatronics, he saw just how successful it became, and he saw just how many people knew him and just how much respect he was finally getting.

That's when he realized.

That's when the real William began to show himself. And that was his big mistake. That mentality led him to this grandma's couch, impatiently awaiting for hell to begin.

Marriage counseling.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, trying to hold back a laugh. This was so pathetic. For years, he's crossed lines and done things that would put him on death row, and he'd never had a single issue. Yet, one small argument with you, and suddenly he's a man with a failing marriage?

What kind of joke was this?

Turns out the clueless little thing that you were had taken his little stunt a lot more seriously than he had anticipated.

"This is ridiculous," William groaned, slumping back into his seat as he stared up at the ceiling. "This is going to be a waste of time. All we need is a vacation, and it'll all work out just fine.”

You just stared at him with a look of disbelief and a small bit of disgust. Quite adorable, if he was honest.

"Really, William?" You said, rolling your eyes. "It's going to take a little more than a vacation to fix our relationship."

William turned to look at you, and he felt his heart twinge when he saw just how upset you were. His lips parted, and he felt a surge of regret wash over him.

He really hated seeing you like this.

You were the only person who ever seemed to make him feel remorse, and right now was no exception.

He opened his mouth, trying to find the words to tell you that he was sorry, but he stopped himself before he could say anything.

Because he wasn't sorry.

Not really.

“Ah, the Aftons, I presume?" A voice said, and William looked away from you, looking to the front of the room.

A man, most likely in his late 40's, was standing by the doorway. His dark hair had streaks of grey in it, and he had a few wrinkles. He was wearing a brown turtleneck and a pair of black pants.

His face was unreadable, and William couldn't tell what he was thinking. But he could tell that this was the same therapist he'd spoken with on the phone.

"I'm Doctor Miller. It's nice to finally meet you both." The therapist smiled and held his hand out.

William sighed, pushing himself off of the couch, and stood up. He shook his hand and forced a smile. "Likewise."

The Doctor nodded and glanced at you. He smiled and walked over to you, extending his hand.

You shook his hand and flashed a warm smile. The smile didn't meet your eyes, though. His smile was fake, and so was yours.

Maybe you were more similar than William had first assumed.

The doctor let go of your hand and stepped back. "Let's get started then."

William sat down, slouching his posture and staring up at the ceiling. He thought about wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and holding you tight, but he thought better of it.

You'd probably reject his affection anyway. For being a clingy wife, you were surprisingly good at pushing him away.

Doctor Miller grabbed a notepad and a pen, walked to the chair beside the couch, and sat down.

He smiled the first genuine one out of the three of you, and opened the notepad.

"Alright, Mrs. Afton, I'd like you to start off. Tell me what happened." He said, his gaze fixed on you. Of course, he was already taking your side.

William glanced at you and raised an eyebrow. This should be good.

You hesitated before speaking. "He’s… well, different lately. He's distant. And cold. I hardly see him anymore, and when I do, he doesn't talk to me. He spends all of his time either in the basement or his office."

Doctor Miller wrote something down and nodded his head. "Is there any particular reason you believe this is happening?"

“No, but he has been acting more aggressive lately. I tried to talk to him about it, and he just snapped. It was like he wasn't even listening. Like his mind was somewhere else."

William stared at you. You sounded so sincere. So hurt. If he had a heart, he's sure it would be aching.

Doctor Miller hummed, nodding his head, and turned to William.

"What was the argument about, Mr. Afton?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

William looked at the doctor, and two options popped into his mind. Option one is to tell the doctor his true feelings. You were being ridiculous and childish. He didn't need your bullshit. He had more important things to worry about. Or, option two, lie.

He was always good at lying.

William sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at you and started to speak.

"She's right; I've been a little cold recently. I've just been stressed out. My business has been a lot lately, and I've been dealing with a few other personal issues. Stress isn't a good look on me, I'm afraid."

He lied, flashing a small sad smile at the doctor.

Doctor Miller looked at him for a moment before writing something down.

"Well, it sounds to me like there are a few issues in your relationship." He said, putting his notepad on the table and resting his arms on his lap. “One of them is a communication issue, which is not uncommon in relationships like this. I believe I can help you, but I want to ask you both a question first."

"What's the question?" You asked, and the Doctor turned to you, a soft look in his eyes.

"Are you still in love with him?"

You and William both tensed up, and the room was silent for a moment. He couldn’t help but turn to look at you, genuinely curious to hear what you were going to say.

You hesitated, your eyes locked on the ground. William felt his stomach churning and his jaw clenched.

He was actually nervous.

For the first time in a long time, William was actually nervous.

You turned to look at him, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"Yes. I still love him."

Doctor Miller nodded and turned to William. "What about you? Are you still in love with your wife?"

Truth be told, you were the only person who ever came close to making William feel love. Vanessa was a close second, but he wasn't sure if it was the same kind of love. At least, not in the way he felt about you.

If this was love, then he was still in love.

"Always.” He spoke without a moment of hesitation. He gave you a warm smile, pulling that facade back up again. “…That's why I'm here."

The doctor smiled, and William swore he saw the tiniest hint of pity in his eyes. "That's good. That means there's still hope for your relationship.”

With all the money this one therapy session was costing him, he damn well hoped so.

"So, here's my idea," the doctor said, sitting up in his seat and clearing his throat. "I'd like to start off with a few activities, some couples challenges, if you will. This will help me understand where the problem areas are, and hopefully, after a few sessions, we'll be able to fix them. If not, we'll find a solution together. Sound good?"

Activities? Challenges? What was this, summer camp?

William resisted the urge to roll his eyes and nodded. "Sounds great."

You nodded, smiling, and William swore he saw a bit of excitement in your eyes. He wondered how much this meant to you. Had you really thought you were losing him?

"Perfect," the doctor said and grabbed his notepad. He flipped the page and started writing something down.

With the amount of writing this guy was doing, you'd think this was a novel. It took a lot out of him to not get up and snap the damn pen in half.

"Now, this might seem a little strange, but I want to try an activity right now. Something small and easy, so we can gauge your relationship and see how you interact with each other."

"What kind of activity?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"Something simple, don't worry. Just a conversation."

Conversation. That sounded boring.

William was about to complain when the doctor cut him off.

"When was the last time you two were… intimate?"

William's eyebrows furrowed, and he stared at the Doctor, whose gaze was fixed on him.

Was he asking what he thought he was asking?

William felt his face heat up and his jaw clenched.

He had to be kidding.

"I'm sorry, but what does that have to do with anything?" He asked, forcing his voice to sound calm.

The doctor turned his head to you, and you just looked down at the ground.

William was going to lose it.

"Being… connected with your spouse in that way is an important aspect of a healthy relationship. Without that sincerity, that vulnerability, you'll start to grow apart."

"We're perfectly connected," William said through gritted teeth. “What do you think you're implying here?"

He knew you like the back of his hand. He could read you like a book, and he was confident to know what you were thinking, doing, or feeling at all times.

He knew that look.

Your eyes were downcast, your hands were fidgeting, and your bottom lip was slightly jutted out.

You were embarrassed, and he knew he had to act. Play the good husband role, and save you the humiliation.

He reached his arm over and wrapped it around your shoulder, pulling you gently upwards. Your body tensed at his touch, but you relaxed when you looked up and saw his warm smile.

"See? We're completely connected." William said, his arm squeezing your shoulder. “I believe this is where our time is up. If you'll excuse us, we have some… activities apparently to get to."

William stood up, grabbing your hand and pulling you up with him. You were quiet, and he could feel your stare on the side of his head.

He couldn't tell if you were upset or grateful.

William cleared his throat and gave the doctor a cold smile. One that he purposely made so that the Doctor would know how displeased he was.

"Thank you for your time, Doctor Miller. We'll be sure to contact you soon."

The doctor nodded, a blank expression on his face. He didn’t say a word as William took you by the arm and guided you out the door.

No way in hell was he doing this again.

"William-" You started, and he cut you off.

"No more therapy, sweetheart," William said, his hand tightening around your arm.

"I-"

"No more," he said, his voice low and stern. Still, he kept that warm smile on his face. It made you fall back into silence.

"We're done. We'll figure this out on our own. No more doctors or counselors or whatever the hell he was.”

Truth be told, he was absolutely livid. All that money wasted for a bum therapist to imply that their marriage was falling apart because you weren't communicating?

What a scam. This is exactly why he preferred to do things on his own.

William led you back to the car, opening the door for you and helping you in. He walked around the car and slid into the driver's seat.

He took a moment to breathe, his head falling back against the seat and his eyes closing.

God, he hated being here.

Hated it so much.

He needed a cigarette and maybe a stiff drink.

"I'm sorry." You said, your voice quiet.

William lifted his head and turned to you. He blinked, confused, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

"What for?"

"I… I thought maybe if we went to see a therapist, they could help. They could fix this. But… I think I messed it up. I'm sorry."

Your voice cracked, and he watched as tears started to form in your eyes.

His face softened, and he turned his body towards you, leaning his back against the door. Such a crybaby you were, emotionally connected and sensitive.

Just another reason why you worked so well with him. Blinded by emotion, you were easy to trick. Easy to manipulate.

You were naive, and it was adorable.

"No, no. Don't cry." William said, his hand lifting and cupping your cheek. He brushed away the tears with his thumb, and he forced a smile. "There's nothing to fix. We're fine, I promise. I’ll make sure of it. Okay?"

"Okay," you whimpered, nuzzling into his hand. It’s quite the contrast compared to the look of disgust on your face from earlier.

He didn't want to see that again.

William leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He could smell the shampoo and soap from your morning shower, and the smell calmed him down.

He could tell the action had calmed you down, too.

William pulled back, and his lips twitched upwards. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll fix this."

After all, he always got what he wanted. And what he wanted was his wife.

And no stupid, worthless therapist was going to guide him away from that.