#she tries that innocent smile he gives her the exact same one right back and asks if she’s all illusions or can she actually do anything | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

charliedawn · 6 months ago

Text

SAINT LOUIS SEASON 2

Part 2

Five had spent the night pondering, as he had realized that he had never sought to find more about the left-wing. The information he had gotten from there was basically the same than in the right-wing…But, something definitely felt off.

Jack was his drinking buddy, and he had never seen him in such a state.

He took another sip of coffee before considering the idea of giving a surprise visit to the left-wing when most of the left-wing was at the party you had decided to throw. The staff would be preoccupied tonight with the festivities, so it wouldn't be difficult to sneak past security.

Besides, he had been able to procure himself an hospital card from one of his outside sources. So he wouldn’t have trouble getting in. He would have to thank Allison later.

Once the meeting had started, he took a bag with the bare necessities before sneaking out of his room and taking the next exit to the shared corridor. It was the only main bridge between the two wings and he had to be on the other side before the start of the party or he would have to expect meeting staff from left and right. He was almost caught as he found three people already standing at the entrance.

"Whatever happens, no one must cross this door but us, understood ?", a red-headed lady instructed a guard who nodded vividly.

"Yes, ma'am." She seemed satisfied with his answer and led the way for her two companions who followed her swiftly. They seemed in perfect synchronization which was—Five had to admit—really creepy. He then wondered on how to get rid of the big oaf preventing entrance. He decided to put his appearance to good use and brought forth his best innocent childish smile. He then started walking towards the guard who didn't even spare him a glance at first. However, when he tried to get in, the guard stopped him with a stern expression.

"No one is allowed in." He seemed adamant, but Five pouted before showing the guard his fake hospital card. The guard raised an eyebrow as he saw the hospital card, skeptically examining it before glancing up at Five.

"Where did you get that from, kid ?"

He knew he ought to find a good excuse and put on the most innocent smile he could muster.

"Sorry, sir. My daddy is waiting for me inside. He's supposed to go to the party with me."

He almost cringed at the unfamiliar sweet appellation. He had never even called his own father daddy. It felt too soft. Not enough ‘Reginald Hargreeves’. But, the guard seemed to buy it as he looked at the card before slotting it inside the machine which made a little noise and turned green. The guard then turned back towards him and nodded.

"Fine. But, tell your father not to let you out of your sight, alright ? There are a lot of crazy psychos in there..."

Five mumbled a thanks before stepping inside. He had to hold in a laugh. If only the oaf knew he was one of those psychos. He then looked at the many different corridors and wondered which path to follow. He let the voices guide him. Indeed, whenever he would hear nurses or doctors approaching, he would take the route farthest from them. Finally, he arrived in front of a series of cells which looked a little too much like the ones the right-wing's patients used to have before the head nurse's arrival. He slowly made his way inside the highly-secured corridor and used another gadget to momentarily disactivate the cameras. A sort of weird rubik object in his hand that would show the exact replica of the room without him in it. He then let it slide in the middle of the room, waiting a few minutes for the system to activate before stepping inside.

He walked past a few cells without seeing anyone inside and then, a voice raised from the shadows.

"Oh ! Visitors ! I love visitors ! What's you name, stranger ?"

Five was surprised by the woman trapped behind bars, her eyes were gleaming with insanity and she had a big smile on his face. He opened his mouth to answer, but realized that saying his name wouldn't really help. But, he did want answers.

"I'm Five. A patient of the right-wing. I'm a friend of Jack. Jack Torrance."

The patient seemed to space out for a second before returning her attention to Five.

"Jack. Jack Torrance," the patient repeated before giggling. "Nope. Doesn't ring a bell. Sorry. He must have belonged to another block. There's only me, Chucky, Eddie Gluskin and Father Paul here. I’m Pearl by the way ! Pearl the star !"

The sound of Pearl's voice made Five uneasy, but he quickly composed himself and approached her cell. Pearl's joyful greeting and cheerful demeanor made Five uneasy, but he couldn't deny that her company was a welcomed contrast to the sterile silence of the rest of the left-wing.

As he listened to her introduction of the patients in the cellblock, a puzzled expression crossed his face. "Father Paul ? Who's that ?"

Five frowned a little at the unknown name when a voice raised behind him.

"Well, hello there, young man. What are you doing here all by yourself ?"

Five turned around and found a man there, hidden in the shadows of one of the clear-view cells. It allowed Five to noticed how he was clad in a black priest robe. The man was watching him from the shadows of his cell with a small smile. He smirked at Five's reaction, clearly enjoying the surprise he had caused. "Ah, my apologies, young man. I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm just curious as to your presence here."

Five's heart raced as he stared at the priest. He hadn't expected to find a priest in a mental institution, and it made him wonder what kind of person Father Paul was. He took a step closer to the cell, trying to get a better look at the man. Father Paul's smirk widened as he watched Five approach. "I can see the cogs in your mind turning. Curious about me, are you ?"

Five nodded silently, his eyes fixated on the priest. The man's presence seemed to fill the already small space with an aura of mystery and authority. He couldn't imagine a man like that being a patient in here.

Father Paul smiled at Five's reaction, clearly sensing his unease. "Ah, I can understand your confusion. It must be rather odd to find a man of the cloth in a place like this. But I assure you, dear boy, I am exactly where I am supposed to be."

Five's curiosity deepened as Father Paul spoke, but he was also growing frustrated with the priest's cryptic words. He wanted to know the truth.

"How did you get here ? Are you really a patient ?" he asked bluntly, his voice laced with a hint of skepticism.

Father Paul chuckled softly, clearly amused by Five's directness. "Ah, a straight shooter , aren't you ? Yes, I am indeed a patient here. I was admitted voluntarily a few months ago."

Five raised an eyebrow at the priest's answer. Voluntarily admitted ? That was not something he heard every day. What reason could a priest possibly have to voluntarily admit himself into a mental institution ?

"And why did you check yourself in, if you don't mind me asking ?" he inquired, hoping to uncover more about the enigmatic priest.

Father Paul's smile widened as he heard Five's question. "Oh, young man, my reasons are many and varied, but the most important one is to atone for my sins. You see, I have made mistakes in my life, grave mistakes, and I am here to seek forgiveness."

Father Paul's words held a strange sincerity, as if he truly believed what he was saying. His conviction was unwavering. Five studied the priest's face, trying to gauge the sincerity in his words. It was difficult to know if Father Paul was being truthful or not. He didn't know much about religion, but he had a hard time believing that a priest could have committed sins serious enough to land him in a place like this.

"What kind of sins ?" he asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

Father Paul's expression darkened slightly as he heard the question. "Oh, my young friend, the sins I have committed are not fit to be spoken of in polite company. But, let's just say that I have fallen far from God's light, and I am here to seek redemption for my transgressions."

As he spoke, Father Paul's gaze became distant and haunted, as if recalling the memories of the atrocities he had committed.

Five hesitated before asking.

"Are you a real priest ?"

Father Paul's expression softened as he looked at Five, understanding his hesitation. "Ah, your question is understandable. But yes, I am a real priest. I was ordained many years ago and have devoted my life to serving God and my flock. But, even priests are not exempt from sin, and I am no exception."

Five tilted his head curiously at him before looking at his wrists, legs and neck where he was all chained up.

"…Why did they chain you up ?" Five asked with a small frown.

Father Paul followed Five's gaze, his expression growing somber. "Ah, my boy, sadly, it is for my own safety and the safety of others. You see, I have moments of extreme instability where I act in ways that are harmful to myself and others. The chains are to prevent me from causing harm during these episodes."

Five hummed.

"Why would a priest be dangerous ? You do not seem all that bad…But again, things aren’t always as they seem."

Father Paul chuckled softly, appreciating the irony in Five's words. "Ah, my dear boy, you are indeed wise beyond your years. Sometimes, the most dangerous people are those who wear the mask of righteousness and kindness. Yes, I am not a dangerous man in general, but I have moments where the darkness within me consumes me…those times are not good. For me and for others."

Five listened to the priest's self-analysis with interest, trying to wrap his mind around the idea of a dangerous priest. "And...when you say the 'darkness' consumes you...what happens then ?"

Father Paul's expression darkened as he recalled the memories of his past episodes. "Ah, my friend, when the darkness consumes me, it is as if I am possessed by a demon. All sense of reason and morality vanishes, and I am driven solely by blood-thirst and violence. It is a terrifying thing to behold, and I am thankful that the nurses and doctors here are highly trained and capable of containing my aggression when it happens."

Five nodded. Blood-thirst ? Ah…So…He was really dangerous, huh ? So far, Father Paul hasn’t complained about the conditions of his captivity. Maybe the left-wing wasn’t so bad after all ?

"Actually, I came here because I wanted to have a little more insight on the left-wing's conditions. I can see that you still have your cells and you are all bound or chained up. Any other things I should know about ?"

Father Paul's expression saddened as he confirmed Five's observations. "Ah. Yes…unfortunately, the left-wing patients are still kept in cells and restrained at all times. As for the other conditions, they are not much better. The staff here are not as attentive or caring as those in the right-wing I would assume. They are more focused on containment and control than treatment and rehabilitation."

Father Paul shook his head sadly, clearly distressed by the situation in the left-wing.

Eddie Gluskin—another patient who had been listening in on their conversation—stared for a few seconds at the little man. He looked like 15 tops, but Eddie knew better than to rely only on appearances.

He decided to speak up.

"Oh. Well…If you are here to do a report. I wouldn't want to sound too demanding but, we would really appreciate it if they could stop the torture. It becomes tedious after a while..."

Five was surprised when Eddie Gluskin spoke. He turned his attention to the patient, his eyes wide with interest. "Torture ? You mean they're torturing you ? What kind of torture are we talking about here ?"

A sort of creepy doll appeared in another cell and cackled.

"Ah ! Isn’t he cute ?! What kinda torture ? Take your pick. Why don’t you tell him, Father ?"

Father Paul winced at the doll's appearance and its cackling, but he turned his attention towards Five with a heavy heart. He hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Like…Chucky said. They call it 'therapy', but it is nothing short of torture. In truth, the methods they use are barbaric and inhumane. They use shock treatment, solitary confinement, and other forms of physical and psychological torment to make us conform to their idea of 'normality'..."

Five's expression darkened as he listened to the Father's description of the torture they endured. He couldn't believe that the staff would call such practices 'therapy'. It sounded more like a form of punishment than treatment.

"AND THOSE FUCKERS ARE STARVING US MOST OF THE TIME !" The doll called Chucky shouted and Five sighed.

"And how often do they torture you like that ?" he asked, barely daring to imagine the horrors they had to suffer. Father Paul sighed heavily, the weight of his suffering evident in his eyes. "Unfortunately, my friend, they do it frequently. It is their twisted way of 'treating' us. They believe that by inflicting pain, they can drive the darkness from our minds. But I fear it only drives us further into despair and madness."

Five frowned as he listened to Father Paul's words. The torment these patients had endured was inconceivable to him. He couldn't fathom how anyone could think that causing pain would help them. It seemed cruel and inhumane.

"And the staff here, are they all like that ?" he asked, his voice laced with disgust.

Father Paul shook his head, a look of despair on his face. "No, my young friend, there are some good staff members here, but many are simply following orders. They are afraid of the Head Nurse, and rightly so. She is ruthless and believes that any measure, no matter how extreme, is justified to subdue us. But, there are a few who still have kindness in their hearts, and they try to help us discreetly. But, their power is limited, and they are often threatened by the Head Nurse and the other less empathetic members of staff."

Five frowned before remembering the red-headed woman he had seen earlier.

"Wait…the red-head ? The left-wing Head Nurse ?"

Father Paul's eyes widened in surprise as Five mentioned the Head Nurse. "Ah, yes, the red-headed woman. That would be her. Nurse Elena is her name. She is the Head Nurse of the left-wing, and she is the one who oversees most of our 'treatment'. She is a stern-faced woman who follows her own ideas of therapy very closely."

Five’s jaw clenched.

"Our Head Nurse in the right-wing. She is kind. She would never hurt us…not like that. Maybe she could help you all ?"

Father Paul's head snapped up, his face suddenly filled with hope. "Ah, your Head Nurse sounds like a breath of fresh air, my friend. You say she is kind and compassionate, and that is a rarity in this place. Perhaps you could speak to her, tell her of our plight and see if she can help us. We are desperate for any semblance of kindness and compassion here."

Five nodded in agreement.

"I’ll tell her. I promise."

Father Paul smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Thank you, my friend. Your kindness and willingness to help us means more than you could ever know. May God bless you for your compassionate heart."

Five smiled and nodded back. But then, he heard voices and footsteps coming their way. He turned his head towards the sound. Crap. The party must have finished earlier than expected…

"If I were you ? I would start hiding. They don't take lightly to trespassers..." Eddie advised him and Five quickly retrieved his gadget before rushing out of the room. But, too late. The voices were closer now and he was on the verge of being exposed. He took a sharp turn to the right and found stairs leading downstairs. He didn't hesitate before running them down and almost tripped on the last step. As Five hurried down the stairs, he stumbled on the last one, but luckily he managed to catch himself before he fell. He looked around trying to get his bearings, his heart racing with adrenaline.

He found himself in a dimly lit hallway, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had put himself in a more dangerous situation by wandering into the left-wing. He then noticed a soft blue light coming from the inside of some giant cell—hidden. He squinted his eyes and finally made out a shape under the light, a human one.

"What in the..?" He tried to remain hidden behind some furniture, but unsuccessfully so.

"I can feel your presence." the man inside the cell said. "You needn't hide from me. I am quite incapable of moving. I won't hurt you."

He slowly took a peek at the shadow that was now staring at him. His voice was soft-spoken, almost too quiet to hear, but Five was guided out of his hiding place by it. He stood before the man and studied him intently for a few seconds before asking.

"Who are you ?"

The stranger gave him the hint of a weak smile before replying.

"Would it matter for you to know my name, Five ?"

Five opened his mouth to answer, but reconsidered. He was surprised that the man knew his name…He did think the stranger to be playing a game, one he wasn't sure the rules of…

"Well, it seems you know mine. Now, I am curious."

The corner of the stranger's mouth curved upwards as he tilted his head. As Five approached the cell and observed the stranger, his breath hitched in shock. The man's appearance was unlike anything he had ever seen. His face was painted a stark white, and numerous nails and pins decorated his head. His eyes were a deep black void, which sent a shiver down Five's spine.

The stranger's voice was soft, almost melodic, but it held a strange intensity that drew Five closer. He couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and curiosity as he stood before this mysterious figure.

The stranger chuckled, noticing Five's confusion.

"It is alright to be afraid. Many mortals find my appearance unsettling."

Five swallowed, trying to keep his voice from trembling as he repeated. "Who—who are you ?"

The stranger's smile widened, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth. "I am known by many names. But you may call me Pinhead."

Five's brows furrowed as he struggled to process the name. Pinhead. Why did it sound so familiar ?

Pinhead, however, seemed to find Five's confusion amusing and chuckled softly. "Ah, you seem to recognize the name, but cannot place it. How intriguing."

As Pinhead spoke, Five's mind raced, trying to remember where he had heard the name before. An image flickered in his mind. A memory. A file he had seen years ago…Suddenly, it clicked. Pinhead. The leader of the Cenobites, a group of extra-dimensional beings who took pleasure in torture and suffering. His father had once had a file about them in his office…A shiver ran down Five's spine, but his curiosity overcame his fear.

"You...you are one of the Cenobites ?" Five asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Pinhead chuckled softly, clearly amused by Five's recognition. "Ah, you are correct. I am indeed a Cenobite. Though I prefer 'Hell Priest' as a title."

Five's mind was spinning. He couldn't believe he was having a conversation with a Cenobite, a creature of legend and horror.

"What—what are you doing here ?" he asked, taking a cautious step closer to the cell.

"Ah, the age-old question." Pinhead's smile widened, revealing his sharp teeth. "I am here, as you put it, to 'make the most of a bad thing'. I have been captured by these humans and brought here to this strange 'sanatorium'. But I would call it more of a 'torture chamber' myself."

"Torture chamber ? So...you are being tortured in here ?" Five's eyes widened in surprise. The idea of a Cenobite being tortured was hard to imagine...but then, he remembered how their whole lives were based on torture and pain.

Pinhead's laughter echoed through the room, its sound making Five shiver. "Indeed. These humans are quite creative in their methods, but to a Cenobite such as myself, it is rather dull."

The idea of any being, even a Cenobite, being subjected to such treatment was disturbing. "But, why haven't you escaped, then ? You are a powerful Cenobite. Surely you have the ability to escape this prison."

Pinhead's expression darkened. "You underestimate the power that these humans have. They have bound me with their technology, limiting my abilities. But I am biding my time, gathering my strength. I will escape soon enough, and I will take my revenge on those who have dared to chain me here."

Five felt a shiver run down his spine. The ferocity in Pinhead's voice sent chills through his body. He took a step back, his instincts telling him to put some distance between himself and the Cenobite.

Pinhead noticed his movements and chuckled softly. "Ah, you are a smart boy. Fear is a natural response in the presence of a godlike being such as myself. I can feel the fear in your soul, and it is...exquisite. Fear, pain...it is what we Cenobites feed on. And these humans, with their tortured souls, provide a feast for us."

Pinhead's eyes gleamed with a dark light as he spoke, the very words itself sending a shiver down Five's spine. It was as if the air around them grew heavier, weighed down by the weight of the Cenobite's dark presence.

Five frowned as he realized what he was referring to.

"Wait…Are you saying you can feed on the fear of other slashers ?"

Pinhead's eyes flickered, a strange look passing over his face. "Yes, we Cenobites can draw power from the fear of others, including those you call 'slashers'. The darker the soul, the stronger the power we can extract."

Five's mind raced as he tried to process this information. "So, you can feed on fear...and that gives you power..."

Pinhead nodded, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Indeed. Fear is our currency, our lifeblood. And the souls of those in this...sanatorium...are ripe with it. I can sense it, like the sweetest of nectars."

Five's thoughts turned to Father Paul. He had seen the fear and despair in the priest's eyes, could feel it in his voice. Was it possible that Pinhead was feeding off of the fear of the patients in the hospital ?

As the thought crossed his mind, Pinhead chuckled softly. "Ah, you are starting to understand, my dear boy. This sanatorium is like a feast for us Cenobites. The fear and despair of the patients here is thick in the air. The souls of those trapped in this place are like open veins, bleeding fear into the very walls of this building."

Five took a few steps back.

"But…Why are they keeping you here then ? The left-wing ? I mean…No offense but I doubt they are planning on rehabilitating you."

Pinhead smiled in amusement, clearly finding the question amusing. "Ah my dear boy, the mortals are fools indeed. They think that they can tame me, bend my will to theirs. They think that by bringing me here, they can use me. This sanatorium is not about rehabilitation, dear boy. It is about using us as instruments of their will of destruction."

Five’s eyes widened at the revelation. He now understood…The slashers weren’t meant to be rehabilitated, but to be used as weapons.

"But, I am no mortal man." Pinhead continued. "I am a god, a Cenobite. My very existence is pain and pleasure, suffering and ecstasy. They can try to change me or use me all they want, but they will never change who I truly am."

As Pinhead spoke, his voice carried a strange sense of pride, almost as if he relished in his role as a Cenobite. It was a dark, powerful presence that demanded respect and fear. Five, meanwhile, couldn't help but feel a chill down his spine as he listened to Pinhead's words. He knew that he was in the presence of a being far beyond his understanding, and it frightened. But most of all, his words frightened him.

He took a few steps back more.

"I should get back to the right-wing. They are probably wondering where I went to…"

Pinhead nodded, his eyes still glimmering with that dark light. "Ah yes, I sense your fear and uncertainty. Run, little boy. Go back to your safe confines and leave me to my captivity."

Five felt an odd sense of relief as he turned and left the room, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just had a brush with something far more powerful than he could ever imagine. As he walked back to the right-wing, his mind was still reeling from his encounter with Pinhead. He couldn't help but shiver as he recalled the Cenobite's piercing gaze and the way he had spoken about feeding on fear.

As he walked the halls of the asylum, he couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of caution. He didn't know what other beings he might encounter in this place, but he knew he needed to be careful. What he didn’t know was that Pinhead had succeeded in seeking the fear within him to gain enough power to make a tiny dent in his prison.

"...Thank you, Five." Pinhead said with an ominous smirk.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #slashers #father paul hill #chucky #pearl #five hargreeves

32 notes · View notes

dont-fiddle-with-my-riddles · 5 months ago

Text

// how can two vastly different people be together, james? it’s not worth it. i’m not good for you.

\\ don’t say that. love, please.

// enough.

(get ready to cry, darlings.)

Regulus was never one to express his feelings. He’d lie, cheat, and betray to keep to himself. That was how he was raised. The exact same nature of it all. Orion made sure to carve every word in his mind, and Walburga made sure that it stayed like the scars on his skin.

James was so persistent with his feelings. Pushing it out in front of everyone. He would sing, yell, and dance to get his views across. And everyone would listen because James Potter was never wrong.

Everyday James would remind Regulus of how he felt about him. How much he loved his star. How close he felt to him.

The thing was, it didn’t feel real. Regulus didn’t believe that James truly loved him. Every time he watched how Lily would laugh at his jokes and James would smile that gorgeous fucking beauty of teeth at her, he just knew he wasn’t good.

And how the two have seen everything together. The teachers always paired the two Gryffindors together. They were perfect together. Their child would be glorious, ready for the throne. What could Regulus give him? Nothing.

“James,” Regulus had called one night, eyes glued to the dusted floor of the Astronomy Tower.

“Love,” James had mimicked, smiling goofily. “What’s wrong?”

The boy took a step back, resting his hands on the cold metal of the railing. His eyes were sharp and calculating, cold as the water below the tower.

“I think we should stop courting each other. I think we need to break up.”

The silence was loud, many thoughts being expressed like whispers in the breeze. James didn’t speak for a couple moments. “Why?”

Regulus took in a sharp breath. He sounded so innocent, so broken, so hurt. But wasn’t Regulus the victim? Not James. Right?

“How can two vastly different people be together, James? It’s not worth it. I’m not good for you.”

“Don’t say that, love. Please..”

“Enough.”

Regulus maintained the cold stare, just as he had practiced many times in the mirror. As if he waited for this moment. James spluttered with tears, overwhelmed. What had he done wrong? No. No. No..

“Evans’s perfect for you. If I’m holding you back, do not hesitate in dating her now.”

“No.. I don’t.. She’s.. Like a sister to me.. I liked her before but it’s different now. Look at me. Please.”

James tried to grasp the boy’s hand in his, but he was dismissed with a scoff. “Please. We both know you like her.”

“Look at me.”

Regulus looked at him coldly. All he saw was a poor, poor boy who looked like a puppy that had gotten kicked too many times. Crestfallen, he was. James was broken.

“You can’t force this. My love has already died for you, Potter,” Regulus lied. Desperately, he wished that this was over.

This was good for him, he’d thank him when he got older. As Regulus walked down the tall tower, he allowed a single tear slide down his cheek. This was good for James, he chanted like a prayer in his mind.

It was just astronomy; the sun was much too bright to be with a stupid star. They’re two worlds apart.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #harry potter fandom #james loves regulus #jegulus fanfiction #james potter x regulus black #james x regulus #regulus arcturus black #james fleamont potter #james potter #regulus x james #regulus black #regulus deserved better #jegulus angst #starchaser #sunseeker #Spotify

26 notes · View notes

sunlightandsuffering · 7 months ago

Text

Feminist and The Fratboy AU

THEORETICALLY, I COULD WRITE MORE BUT AS OF RN I KIND OF LIKE HOW IT'S ENDED AND STUFF?? it's not as smutty as i wanted but y'all i really think this is the essence of them, feminist mikasa and fratboy eren WE DO LOVE

She’s sitting in his room, lazily turning herself in loops on his desk chair, spinning around over and over again. And isn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

And yet here she fucking is, in the bedroom of one Eren Yeager, expecting it to play out differently than it has the hundred or so other times she’s been in this exact position.

Her socked foot taps against the edge of his desk once more, giving her the momentum she needs for one more spin– but she’s stopped.

Eren is glaring at her, his own foot wedged harshly between her and the desk, “No more.” She winces, definition of fucking insanity.

“I should go,” Mikasa tells him, sitting up from the comfort of her swivel chair, she should at least pretend she wants to leave, that she has some dignity. “No, we have to work on our gender women’s studies assignment, I need a good mark if I don’t want to worry about the final.” Mikasa glares at him miserably, slumping back into the comfort of the plush high-backed swivel chair, the one she is sure is used for all too much video gaming, “You could, you know apply yourself, that might help.” Eren shoots her an unimpressed look, “Why would I do that when I have an angry little feminist at my beck and call.”

This time she stands up, fully intending to leave, but Eren shoves her back, his foot on her thigh, dumping her right back into her chair, “Relax, Miki, I didn’t mean it.” Debatable.

She quirks an eyebrow at him, irritated, and a smirk tugs at Eren’s lips, those smug, full lips that she loves to kiss way too much, he’s so fucking irritating.

“Don’t be so sensitive.” She could murder him right now, in cold blood, and ruin his mother’s perfectly beige carpet.

For a moment she considers it, her eyes flickering toward the butter knife, lying innocently on the dirty plate on his desk. It’s probably from before she got here, when Mama’s boy eating his dinner at his desk, like a fucking king.

Her face twists into a scowl and Eren’s smirk blooms into a full-on grin, but he must sense her rage because he puts his hands up in surrender, just before she can make a grab for the dull silver of the blade.

“Fine, I’m sorry,” he kicks her affectionately, and she comes back to herself, stops contemplating murder, just three words from him and it’s over, her brain a puddle of mush, “You know I love my angry little feminist.” “Fuck off.” He’s practically beaming now, man spreading wide from his seat on the bed and Mikasa turns to glance over at her notebook, the list of prompts for an essay they need to write.

“What do you think chivalry is?” Mikasa reads aloud, picking up her pen to tap against the desk, she looks up at Eren curiously, awaiting an answer from the very antithesis of feminism himself.

“Get on your knees.”

He says it with such authority, such confidence that she’s already moving to obey before she stops herself, hands clutching the armrests of her chair.

“What?” He doesn’t elaborate, simply jerks with his chin, repeating himself, “Get on your knees.” Mikasa hates herself for following his directions, feels like a fever dream as she drops to her knees, only to find herself looking up at him now from between his legs, that dark feral smile on his lips.

For a moment, it’s quiet, and she simply sits there, her breathing quick as she tries to figure out his angle, and looks up at him through long dark lashes, coated in the most carefully applied mascara, a layer so thin it doesn’t look like she’s wearing it at all.

Because despite her rabid dislike of him, she’d wanted to be pretty, to affect him in the same way he does her, for his heart to skip a beat, his breath to come a little faster. Her heart is galloping in her chest as she looks up at him, the tense set of his shoulders, the complete and total fucking power he has over her, on her knees between his legs, looking up at him, awaiting her fate, her pretty face inches from his cock.

His hand moves and she flinches, expecting what, she doesn’t know, but his touch is soft, his smile still dark, eyes glazed over with something she can’t name, lust, desire, power?

Carefully, he traces a hand over her face, his thumb brushing over the hollow of her cheek, before slipping up to catch her bangs. He gathers her hair back, tucking it from her face with soft reverence, his other coming up to catch any stray strands.

He tangles his right hand through the silky strands of her, knotting it at the base of her skull so he has a firm hold, his other hand tipping her chin up roughly. His voice is gravelly as he speaks, evergreen eyes hooded, “Chivalry is holding your hair back while you suck my cock, Miki.”

Her mouth parts, from shock, or an unconscious desire, she doesn’t know, and the wicked smirk on his lips grows. He drops her chin to tug his sweatpants down, his dick jerking up as he’s released from his confines, no boxers because of course he’s not wearing any. He slaps against her cheek lewdly, a drop of pre brushing against her mouth as he lines himself up, resting comfortably against her cheek.

She’s entranced, watching as he gives himself an experimental stroke, even his own hands not enough to grip his cock completely, an inch or so left out, the thick length of him daunting against the delicate lines of her face.

He’s an imposing figure as he jerks himself off, and Mikasa is caught, silver eyes enraptured. She takes her lower lip between her teeth, tasting the saltiness of his pre, her breath coming faster now, her head foggy with desire.

“To me Miki,” Eren continues, his voice a low rumble that has her staving off a moan as it settles over her, “Chivalry is keeping your hair out of your eyes so you don’t have to worry.” Eren yanks at her long raven locks, a slow almost painful pull, reminding her of the hold he has on her, the literal and metaphorical grasp he has, how she couldn’t shake him off even if she wanted to.

“So you can be a good girl and focus on sucking me off.”

He gives her hair another experimental tug, pulling her just a touch closer, just enough so that plump lips kiss against the hard length of his cock, saliva coating the obscene length of him, a sweet massage that she has no doubt he doesn’t deserve.

“That’s what I think chivalry is,” He looks down at her, smiling dark with mirth, almost gleeful as her lips part, the weeping head of his cock slipping into her mouth, unbidden, a movement all her own, “Wouldn’t you agree, Miki?” Definition of insanity, huh? Call her insane, then.

#lys's drabbles #GSWS EM #fratboy and feminist AU #eremika

39 notes · View notes

devilsrecreation · 2 months ago

Note

i need to hear more about tamka and pua and their father-son (? correct me if im wrong) bond.. /no pressure

CROC FATHER/SON HEADCANONS LET’S GOOOOOO

I talked a little bit about them in my Tamka hc post but here are some more!

- Nobody in the Pridelands have any idea how Pua and Tamka are related. They’re either really confused or straight up don’t believe it. Pua’s a humble, smart, wise leader who puts up a good fight and Tamka…is, well, the opposite: a cocky dumbass who goes down the minute you hit the top of his head 😭

- Pua loved Tamka as soon as he hatched from his egg. It was impossible for him not to. He was so innocent and full of spirit, just like his mother. And he reminds his son of that every chance he gets

- Tamka’s silliness was both funny and annoying. Pua would always laugh when Tamka tried to climb on his snout but his habit of trying to spar with/death roll his father’s tail wasn’t as much fun

- As mentioned before, it was Pua who first discovered that rubbing his son’s tummy made him fall asleep (a nod to Tamka’s “sure, I mean, it works on me!” comment in “The Zebra Mastermind”). Baby Tamka was being fussy and Pua was feeling frustrated since everything he tried failed to work, not to mention this wasn’t setting the best example to his float. So Kuimba suggested he tickle their son’s tummy with his tail and when he tried it—boom. It worked

- Tamka still remembers the lullabies Pua would sing to him and the other hatchlings, especially the ones at him. He loves them so much he sings them when he has hatchlings of his own

- Tamka used to sleep right next to his mother, but when she died, he started sleeping next to Pua. Up until his dad’s exile, Tamka would always be found snoozing away anywhere near him. Tamka still misses those days

- When Tamka was a kid, he would sometimes overhear Pua weeping late at night (the times when his closest friends died, to be exact). He cried the hardest when Kuimba and Piga died. Tamka usually isn’t very good at reading other animals but he could absolutely tell his father was pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. But he always assumed his father knew best so he didn’t question it much

- Their reconciliation since the incident in the Dry Season was a somewhat slow process. At first, they were both upset/disappointed for different reasons: Pua because he couldn’t believe Tamka went through with something so stupid and Tamka because Pua always seemed to dismiss him and love the other hatchlings more than his own son due to having to raise them all (not true at all but it certainly looked like it). Pua was heartbroken after Tamka pushed him away, but decided to give him some time and space. Tamka eventually starts to miss talking to his father and finally decides to talk it out with him. It was a very long and emotional talk that ended with the both of them hugging, along with apologies on both ends. Pua teared up, Tamka was bawling his eyes out

- Despite taking more after his mother, Tamka DOES inherit Pua’s confidence, darker colors, and determination. Not to mention he sometimes has that same gentle smile Pua has.

Seriously, same energy

- Pua gives his son even more examples why they’re more similar than he thinks, such as the fact they were both banished from the float and how they both meet/mate with beautiful females that are 10x out of their league

- Speaking of females, Tamka once went to him for advice about how to court Erevu. Best he could do is tell him to keep doing what he’s doing cuz he must be doing something right if she likes him back. He loves her btw, thinks she’s perfect for his son

- While Pua has no idea how he managed to win Kuimba’s heart, he does remember how they met and how he fell in love. It’s Tamka’s favorite story

- While they have reconciled, they still have misunderstandings every now and then. The first time Tamka saw Pua hanging out with Kongwe, he thought they were a couple. He goes through a whole process where he thinks his dad was trying to replace his mom, tries to make himself a third wheel, but then comes to accept the relationship if it makes him happy. Pua had to explain to him how it was purely platonic (lmao oh Tamka)

Pua was everyone’s dad figure but most importantly, he was Tamka’s

#sorry it took me a while i had to compile all my thoughts off the top of my head #thanks for the ask!#i love croc relationship headcanons sm #they mean everything to me #the lion guard

8 notes · View notes

inairbinad · 1 year ago

Text

Make Me Write Poll Snippet

The prevailing WIP from the poll was the Barb Lives AU season 4 rewrite! I'm pretty sure I counted right and this is at least 83 lines, but my eyes rolled out of my head a little towards the end there. It's ~1200 words, anyway.

Snippet under the cut! (Related parts here, if you're interested.)

“I think we should just go over these last few stanzas one more time,” Nancy tried, already shuffling through her flash cards again. Eddie looked at Barb with a pained expression on his face, hoping she could get her girlfriend to go easy on him.

Barb just smiled back serenely and wiggled her eyebrows at him, and Eddie felt betrayed.

“Wheeler, if you don’t lay off the Macbeth soon I’m gonna be wandering around this trailer with your blood on my hands. Is that how you want me to commit ‘out, damned spot’ to memory?” Eddie asked.

When even Steve was snorting at Shakespeare references, Eddie knew they’d been studying too long. Nancy opened her mouth to protest, but blessedly Barb actually threw Eddie a lifeline this time.

“It’s late, Nance,” she pointed out. She gently laid a hand over Nancy’s. “You know he’s hit his limit when he starts making empty threats, anyway.”

“You assume they’re empty,” Eddie grumbled from where he was curled up on the couch. Nancy just rolled her eyes at him and started gathering up her study materials. Eddie appreciated how thoroughly Nance and Barb were trying to help him graduate. Really. But he’d hit a wall about a half an hour ago.

As much as he loved them, he just wanted to kick Barb and Nance out so he could feel up his boyfriend in peace.

“Fine,” Nancy said around a yawn. Eddie sent her his best know-it-all smirk in response. “You two just want to gossip about Robin and Chrissy some more, anyway.”

Admittedly, that was on Eddie’s list of things to do, too. But it wasn’t nearly as high a priority as the feeling up.

“You two are going to do the exact same thing the whole ride home,” Steve said. “Don’t act innocent.”

“I just think they’d be cute together!” Barb defended, and Eddie couldn't disagree there.

One of the most charming things Eddie had learned about Barb Holland was how she just wanted everyone to be as happy as she was with Nancy. Eddie made sure to give her an extra tight squeeze as he hugged her goodnight.

The minute the girls were out the door, Steve wrapped his hands around Eddie’s middle from behind, and Eddie tipped his head back against Steve’s shoulder. Steve took the opportunity to press his lips to the knot of tension in the curve of Eddie’s neck.

“Relax, babe,” Steve murmured, and Eddie deflated on command into his arms. “You still want me to stay over?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie said without hesitating. He felt Steve’s grin against his skin, which sent a cascading tingle from the crown of his head down to the tips of his fingers.

“Alright, I’m gonna change.” Steve planted another kiss against Eddie’s neck and then went off to find something to wear in the growing stash of clothes he kept in Eddie’s room.

Eddie tried to let some relaxation slip deeper into his bones as he flopped on the couch in a heap. He didn’t bother to hide a smile when Steve shuffled back in and sat down beside him, and Steve returned a grin bright enough to leave Eddie dizzy.

“I can’t believe you toppled the entire romance section because you were so excited about Robin being flirted with,” Steve laughed and nudged his foot into Eddie’s thigh across the space between them. Eddie caught Steve’s ankle before he could pull back, then quickly pulled both of Steve’s feet into his lap.

“You’re the one that made me do it, mister,” Eddie reminded him as he tickled the bottom of Steve’s foot. He thought it was only fair, as far as revenge went, especially when Steve giggled and squirmed away.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Steve said, still laughing and tucking his feet up under himself this time. He looked so comfortable, here in the trailer with Eddie, curled up in his pajama bottoms and one of Eddie’s old t-shirts.

Four months of dating—of sleepovers, and kissing, and hands all over each other every chance they got a minute to themselves—and still Eddie was swooning over the most mundane, soft little things that Steve did around him now.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie hummed as if there was anything to forgive at all. “Guess we both got pretty excited for Birdie there.”

“Definitely,” Steve said around a yawn. Instead of putting his feet back in Eddie’s lap this time, he twisted around and pillowed his head on Eddie’s thigh. On instinct, Eddie threaded his hand through Steve’s hair. “Be nice if it actually went somewhere for her. She’s such a goober over Chrissy, I swear.”

“Yeah well, it seems like Chrissy might be kind of a goober about Robin, too,” Eddie said. “Unless you think I’m imagining things?”

“No…” Steve trailed off, though, like he had reservations anyway. “I don’t think you are. But isn’t she still dating Jason?”

“Yeah,” Eddie confirmed. Or at least she was as far as he knew. He wasn’t exactly privy to the hottest gossip in Hawkins High unless he asked for it on the side of a drug deal. “But wasn’t Nancy dating you shortly before she and Barb started making out?”

“Fair enough,” Steve chuckled. “Chrissy and Jason have been together a while, though. Nance and me was a blip.” He snapped his fingers and smacked his lips to illustrate his point, and Eddie hated how fucking adorable Steve was, even when he was being a dork.

“True,” Eddie agreed without bothering to hide his dopey smile. “But come on. Robin’s obviously better than Carver.”

“Well, obviously,” Steve agreed with a scoff, and Eddie smiled at Steve’s unwavering loyalty to his best friend and partner in (many) crimes.

As much as Eddie loved them both, and the way they’d seamlessly folded him in to make their chaotic little trio, Eddie still kind of wished he could find the Robin to his Steve.

“Carver or no Carver, I think Birdie could use a little help, is all I’m saying.”

Steve grinned up at him, like Eddie was really speaking his love language now. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, exactly.” Eddie shrugged. He’d been considering approaching things from Chrissy’s side, if he could manage it subtly enough. He’d felt that little buzz of a friend crush brewing when they’d caught each other’s eye in the video store earlier. And Robin wasn’t exactly open to suggestions on the topic at the moment, anyway. “I was thinking I’d try to make friends with Chrissy, to start.”

“And say what?” Steve asked, playful in his skepticism. “‘Hey my friend likes you, any chance you like her too?’”

“No,” Eddie grumbled, unappreciative of the implication that Eddie didn’t have any game, friendly or not. He had the prettiest boy in Hawkins sprawled across his lap, after all. “I’m not gonna like, come out of the gate with a book of poems from Sappho, or anything. I’m just gonna try to suss out the situation some more. Make a new friend. Be a good wingman.”

Tagging anyone who's requested this for WIP Wednesday/Weekend or expressed interest so far: @stobinesque @bifuriouswaterbender @patchworkgargoyle @eriquin @steves-strapcollection @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins

#steddie #nancy x barb #buckingham #stranger things #fanfic #snippet #definitely didn't edit this either #the wips

20 notes · View notes

sailtomarina · 1 year ago

Text

I know that smirk

She cornered her in the library with a glint in her eye and hands planted on her waist. Hermione might as well have been a quaffle in Ginny’s eyes—ripe for the taking.

“Who is it, Hermione?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean.”

“Oh, please. I’d know that Slytherin smirk anywhere. You didn’t get that from my brother.”

Hermione feinted to the left before attempting to dart to the right, coming to an immediate halt as the other girl blocked her efforts.

“Slytherins don’t own the trademark on smirks, you know,” she scoffed, finally giving up and settling back with arms crossed.

“No, but they all seem to share the exact same style, one you didn’t sport until recently. So I ask again, who is it?” Her light brown eyes narrowed in speculation at Hermione’s continued avoidance of eye contact.

“Nott?”

Hermione gave a slight shake of her head and Ginny thought it a pity. Those two would have been perfect with each other as swotty as they both were. Not to mention their adorable curls.

“…Goyle?”

This time all she got in response was a snort. It had been a far-fetched guess, but she’d certainly seen and done stranger things herself.

“If you say it’s Parkinson I just might take you in to see Pomfrey.” This time her statement earned her a glare.

“Pansy’s changed a lot lately. She’s…better these days.”

That was certainly a surprise. Ginny didn’t hate Parkinson, per se, but she didn’t trust her either, especially after she’d tried to turn Harry in.

“Well, I know it isn’t Zabini, so that just leaves—”

“Wait a minute,” Hermione interrupted. “How do you know it isn’t Blaise?”

This time it was Ginny’s turn to smirk, not that one, but the smile most others outside the family attributed to the twins, but only because they didn’t know Bill or Charlie. “Because he would’ve told me.”

Hermione blinked once, then once more. Then she gasped as realization dawned.

“Ginny! Are you shagging Blaise?”

The redhead peered down at her nails as she contemplated painting them emerald green. “I might be.”

“But, Harry? I thought you were with Harry!”

“I am.”

As Hermione continued to sputter, Ginny’s stoicism dissolved into peals of laughter. “Oh, Hermione, why not both?”

“Both! Do they know?”

“Of course they do. They’d have to, given how much they enjoy snogging each other as much as they do me.”

Ginny wished she could bottle up the memories of Hermione’s face just then so she could share it with the other two. It was the perfect combination of surprise and intrigue. She might be one year older, but she was so, so precious in her innocence.

“How is Malfoy in bed, anyways?” she casually tossed out. Now this would be interesting.

“We—I—I mean—how did you guess?”

“Love, there weren’t many Slytherins from our year left, and I’m fairly certain you’re not interested in anyone younger. If anything, I would’ve pegged you for an older guy. Way older.”

If Hermione’s blush was any indication, Ginny guessed that she had her fair share of crushes perfectly fitting her assumptions. That would be worth investigating later. But for now…

“So? Are you going to spill?”

Teasing Hermione really was criminally fun. She made it so easy with how open her expressions were, how her body language immediately reflected her feelings. Like now—she stroked her fingers idly over her wand like she wished they were wrapped around something, someone, else.

“We’re not quite there yet. Draco wants to take things slow.” A pretty rose blush crept across her cheeks at the admission.

Ginny couldn’t help her brows from jumping up in surprise. Malfoy? Take things slow? Not only was that not his reputation, but it almost sounded like…

“But you want to?”

A shy nod and an ever deeper blush were her answers.

“Alright, tell me everything, and then I’ll tell you what to do.”

Far be it to say that Ginny wasn’t giving when she wanted to be, despite her overall greediness for life and all its pleasures. She’d be certain to exact gratitude from the ferret later.

WC 688 Twitter prompt from DramionePrompts

#dramione prompt #dramione #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger #draco malfoy #ginny weasley #ginny x harry x blaise

13 notes · View notes

twinklelilstarkey · 2 years ago

Text

Tutor: Lost Time - Rafe Cameron

Words: 5.2k+ Type: Smut & Fluff Summary: Rafe's back :') Warnings: Female!Reader. Secret Relationship. Lying to friends and family. SMUT {begins abruptly, VERY, VERY FILTHY, piv sex (mentions of oral, fem rec, and fingering), rough sex, a lot of overstimulation, dacryphilia, no condom (she's on the pill), a lot of kissing, a lot of aftercare}. Might need some more proofreading.

Tutor Masterlist (for context, you should read the other smuts <3)

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

By clicking to read more you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and mature enough to read mature scenes :)

Rafe’s back.

He got back today, an exact day early as he and his father didn’t want to deal with the supposed hotel food for much longer. The last conference was yesterday morning, and they stayed with Ward’s friends for just one more night at the bar.

You were just finishing up talking to Rose about this week’s payment for tutoring when it happened. Wheezie was sitting on the kitchen island waiting for you to be done so she could finally talk to you about the show you two watch every week. The conversation went on and on, and you almost felt bad for the girl because her step-mom really wasn’t doing much for the conversation to be done any soon.

It was around that time that you heard a car park in the driveway. You heard some voices just at the same time as Rose did. The two of you stopped talking, and Wheezie only stood there silently, waiting to see what it could be.

Rose was the one that walked out to see who it was. You didn’t even have the chance to start a conversation with Wheezie because you two soon heard Rose happily announce:

“You’re back early!”

You practically felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest, and Wheezie quickly got up and disappeared before you could even say anything. She went over to greet her dad and older brother, and you tried to ignore your over-excited body and make yourself walk slowly over to the front door.

When out of the kitchen, you faced everyone still on the porch. All of them were speaking so happily between themselves. Wheezie was right beside Rafe as the two of them speak to one another, and Rose was walking back outside with Ward.

Rafe’s back was towards you, so you couldn't exactly do anything except get into their conversation. Yet, that wasn’t needed. As soon as he heard someone behind him, Rafe looked right over his shoulder, and his eyes went to you.

You two only spoke a little, nothing to raise suspicions, as you only said ‘hi’ and politely asked and answered about the trip. Wheezie stared at the two of you as you spoke, but she never intervened. She could never hate her brother, and she likes you too much to not like you in every situation. Seeing you two talk almost felt a little relieving to her, as it's as if her favorite people are finally interacting.

She also noticed how much you smiled at Rafe, but it never clicked. Why would it? You smile at everyone. You’re nice to everyone. Was she supposed to find it suspicious that you were smiling and being nice to her brother?

When Ward and Rose came back, the two of you were acting just too normal for them to notice. Ward did see the way his son would steal a look at you a few too many times, but he couldn’t bring himself to think of anything. It looked innocent. It looked normal.

It wasn’t until Rose remembered that she hadn’t finished her conversation about your paycheck with you that all of you moved away from the front of the house. You followed Rose to the kitchen, Ward began carrying his bags upstairs, Wheezie ran back to her room to get your things without you knowing, and Rafe was supposedly in need of something to eat.

“I’ll transfer the money to you as soon as I can, this afternoon.” Rose had told you.

Rafe was messing with something in the cabinets as she spoke, and she soon disappeared out of the kitchen to go check on something with Wheezie - something about an extra hour in her schedule of tutoring.

It didn’t take Rafe 2 seconds to pull you by your hand and have you in between him and the kitchen counter. Your lips touched softly at first, but then it got messy and amusing. It was one of those messy and quick make-outs that the two of you seem to always end with laughter at the end. Rafe’s hands were all over you. They squeezed onto your sides, your boobs, your ass, your thighs, everything.

That whole thing stopped when you two heard a car pull up to the driveway. Ward said your name by the stairs of the house, and you two separated immediately.

Just in time, he came into the kitchen only to find Rafe with his back to you and messing with a box of cereal and you with your phone in hand.

“Your friends are here.” He said.

You could not express how disappointed you were with your ride coming to get you so soon. You still thanked Ward, and he walked right out after acknowledging you with a 'no problem'.

“You better be free in two hours.” Rafe whisper-yelled behind you.

You pulled away from the counter, and Rafe walked over and laid a kiss on the side of your head right as you let out a sigh.

After that, you felt like you were on a mission. A big one too. You said ‘bye’ to Rafe before anyone else could walk in, Wheezie appeared on the stairs with your things in hand just as you were going up to see her. You said bye to her and her step-mom, and, when you were outside, you simply waved at Ward and got into the car.

You were indeed on a mission. The mission was to get rid of your friends (in the nicest way possible) and get your parents out of the house - since there is no other place where the two of you could go. You had decided on this mission before you could even consider it a second time. But you had the feeling in your bones that if you didn’t follow your own instructions, you’ll be hating yourself forever.

Your friends were the easiest. You just had to say that you felt sick, and they dropped you off right away. Right before screaming at you to better get yourself feeling better until tomorrow, the day of the Bonfire party. You promised you would, and then, your mom was waiting for you right at the door.

She thankfully didn’t hear that you were ‘sick’ so she just casually welcomed you in, and you walked with her to the kitchen. You talked to her as she made dinner. You were probably in your best mood for the past 2 weeks, and she noticed it. You know she did. You sneaked into that conversation, many times, how she hasn’t been going out with dad for some time. You did it so carefully, you knew she couldn’t see your plan from a mile away.

You had an hour and a half for your plan to work, and it was going to work, goddamn it. You eventually ate dinner with your dad as well and slipped in those ideas too. Your plan began to work as soon as one of them said that it was a clever idea to go either to a family-owned bar by the beach or the cinema. You never nodded so hard in your life, your neck hurt.

But then they began to invite you to go with them, and your plan began to backfire. You’re the epitome of a person that doesn't leave their house much. You can't, you have to study and sulk about your boyfriend being away for 2 weeks. Those were your responsibilities. Plus hiding the entire thing.

Surprisingly, with 20 minutes left, you did it. You named a random movie that would be playing at the island's small weekly movie night at the park, and that you 'supposedly heard that Kristy’s parents would be there'.

You fucking did it.

You also played into the whole “I’m so tired, I think I’m going to sleep but we’ll hang out tomorrow” ordeal and walked over to your room. They were saying their goodbyes to you in less than 10 minutes and moving out of the driveway in less.

You took a quick shower and put on some clean clothes, all to be done by the time Rafe texted you. It was already getting dark out when he was at your front door, but you really didn’t care much because you were so, so excited, it was becoming an inhumane feeling.

Inside closed doors, you two kissed for probably two seconds before Rafe threw you over his shoulder and ran upstairs. You were laughing by the time you hit the mattress, Rafe hovered over you and let you put your hands on his cheeks. A huge smile was on your face as Rafe stared back at you. Your heart was racing, and you felt all giddy from having him with you.

“I missed you.” You whispered at him.

“You did?” He asked while leaning closer to you.

You nodded happily as he got closer to you, and you weren’t even an inch away from each other as Rafe laid a kiss on your lips. It was soft, even though short, and it made you look at him with those eyes, those puppy eyes that he has been seeing in his mind for the past weeks. All filled with love and admiration for him. Always. They're always there. He kissed you again and again, only just to see them one more time when he would pull away.

Your lips are always so soft and the kisses are always so sweet, Rafe almost had to physically hold himself back from even deepening it because he didn’t want to ruin the sweet moment so soon. Your hands caressed his cheeks and sometimes moved to touch his smooth hair. Rafe took everything in and absorbed every pleasant touch.

When you pulled away from the kiss and stared at each other for a while, Rafe noticed the way you were looking at him. Before you got to speak, there was this playfulness on your face right away.

“You didn’t miss me?” You asked him, lifting your hand to poke at his chest, “Uh?”

Even Rafe smiled at that before reconnecting your kiss. You might have ruined the kiss with a giggle, but Rafe never seemed to mind as he smiled right back at you too.

“Of course, I did.”

After that, clothes flew across the room. Rafe took his shirt first, and then took your shorts off. Both of which you’ll probably have to go look for eventually because you have no idea where they landed. In the midst of kisses, your shirt was off next and so were Rafe’s pants.

You wish you could still remember every part of what followed after all of that, but it all became a blur by the time you had your third orgasm. Rafe must’ve come back to the island with a purpose, you swear it. He made you cum on his fingers two times, then went down on you, and he has been fucking you for… God, you don’t even know at this point.

You’re as if you’ve just run a marathon, and you’re finding yourself incapable of keeping quiet. Your entire body has become extremely sensitive, as one can imagine, and you haven’t thought of even stopping yet. The air around you is warm, and the entire room must smell like sex. Rafe has cum at least two times, but you’re also not so certain about that either, anymore. If you are even able to utter your own name, it would be a miracle.

Rafe’s cock is sliding in and out of you at a rough pace, his length hitting every little bit of the inside of you. His hands are by your hips, holding them up as your legs have started to give out from under you. Your head is laid in between pillows, which so happens to muffle your sounds slightly. Your moans come out of your mouth with each of his thrusts, some of them are low and almost silent but you’ve become so sensitive and overstimulated, they sometimes become weak squeaks of just another orgasm coming through.

Rafe smooths his hand up your back, and his heavy breathing is your only idea of how he has to be tired too at a time like this. His hand stops by your shoulder, and with a simple pull, you’re back on your knees, your back against his chest, and your noises are back to their full volume.

“Rafe…” You moan with your eyes closed and as you reach to hold onto his hand.

He shushes you as he brings his lips to your neck. His kisses almost feel like too much, his warm breathing down to your hot skin is even worse. You almost want to flinch away, but you only pull him closer. Tired or not, your hips work against Rafe’s too, taking his cock deeper inside of you and making yourself moan louder.

Rafe takes one of his hands down to your cunt. It has become slightly swollen with time, naturally, your clit and some bit of your inner thighs are covered with your slick from all of your orgasms, as well as Rafe’s cum. Rafe leans his chin on your shoulder, working inside of you as his hand touches you all over. Your wet skin moves easily against one another, and you can already feel your lower stomach begin to burn again.

You pull Rafe’s hand away, and he lets you do it. You lean forward and grab onto the headboard of your bed, trying to get some stability. Rafe looks down at the two of you as you open some space between you two. He watches the filthy image with his own eyes, not just with his hand now. The entire length of his dick, his balls, and his pelvis are soaked with you and his cum. He also doesn’t know for how long you two have been at it, but, he doesn’t plan on stopping.

Rafe leans his hand onto your leg, and he feels how shaky it feels. You’re not one to complain ever, he has gotten that down, but he also isn’t going to force you into this position for this long.

You whine out loud and gasp as he pulls out of you, and you look over your shoulder.

“Lay down.” He whispers at you.

The two of you are panting for air, and you hold on tight to the headboard before moving. When you turn around, facing Rafe, you take a seat on the bed first and then lean close to him for a kiss. Sensitive or not, you’re still you. You’ll always want to kiss him.

Your cheeks are wet with past tears. One’s who have come to attack your eyes by the time you first considered yourself overstimulated for the first time tonight. You promise that they’re happy tears, and you’ve promised that to Rafe too. They always seem to come out when you feel too good. Your entire body just seems to struggle to cope with him and his antics.

Rafe, in the midst of the kiss, grabs onto your legs and brings them to his hips, all before pulling you down and making you lay down. You break away from the kiss and look down at yourself.

“You okay?” Rafe asks you, and you nod, but you don’t break your concentration on yourself.

You feel him bring one of his hands over to your face and wipe your tears away. You look at him for just a few seconds, staring into his eyes innocently, as he dries your cheeks with his warm palm. Rafe lays a peck on your lips one more time and then pulls back a little.

You look down and watch as Rafe slides back inside of you. It’s pathetically easy for him to do so, and your back arches off the bed right as he does it. Rafe feels the way your walls still cling onto him so tightly, he doesn’t even know how he’s still finding the strength to keep going. And you feel the exhausting pleasure begin to coil at the end of your stomach all over again, making you contract your already tired muscles.

Rafe sits up, not hovering over you anymore, and thrusts into you. Your entire body is exposed to his eyes as he sits in this position. There isn’t much light but the one on your bedside table, giving your body this golden highlight to it. You couldn’t look more perfect than at this moment.

He looks up at your face again to already see those tears coming back. A smile pulls at his lips as he can’t help it. You always look so helpless and tonight is the whole summary of it. You’ve cum way too many times but you’re taking each one like you just want more.

Rafe makes you let out a broken sob as he does a particularly harsher thrust and, when you meet his eyes to see his smile, your walls squeeze him way too tight.

“Oh, my nasty princess.” He whispers at you, “You’re close again, aren’t you?”

You nod quickly at him, bringing one of your hands to a pillow just beside your head, trying to ground yourself and not cum again so soon.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Rafe curses out loud, making a different warmth navigate through your body.

You gasp for air after trying to hold onto your noises for a little bit, but it all fails. Your moans are repetitive, and Rafe takes them all in with pride. He brings his hands down at your cunt, touching your lips, the sensitive outlines of your entrance just around his cock, feeling how tight you're closed around him, and when he touches your clit, you look as if you’ve just been shocked for a second.

Rafe touches it again, despite your whines, and this time, it lets it lay there, putting down pressure on it with his thumb, and you look at him. His eyes are back on yours right away, watching the way your adorable and fuckable unconscious tiny pout comes back to your face, your eyes filled with tears and little weak noises escaping you.

Your tears spill out to your cheeks, and Rafe begins to work his thumb in circles around your clit. You hold on tighter to the pillow just beside you and bring your other hand to his wrist trying to stop him. Rafe doesn’t pull his hand off as he never feels you push or pull him away, your hand holds onto his wrist but doesn’t move after it.

He continues to circle your clit with that much pressure as he thrusts into you, your hold on his wrist tightens but, again, you never move him away.

Rafe suddenly feels your walls tighten around him all over again and only thrusts into you deeper. Your hold on his wrist lifts as you become a moaning mess under him. Suddenly, your eyes roll to the back of your head right after you close them, your back arches, your legs by Rafe’s hips tighten, and your entire body explodes with orgasmic pleasure all over again.

Your sounds are a mixture of moans, pleas, sobs, and almost screams. Rafe stops moving when those same sounds change into a very small pained whine. His hips still, and his hand lifts.

Your eyes are still closed, but your body has almost completely relaxed in front of Rafe. You’re still breathing heavily, and your hands are now not clinging onto anything. Rafe is still deep inside of you, so, when he moves to hover over you and bring his face close to yours, you frown and your breathing falters just a little.

You could feel his warm body close to yours before you even begin to open your eyes. When you do so, your eyes meet Rafe’s right as you do it. You’re exhausted, your entire body has begun to force you to sleep, but you’re not letting it just yet.

“I’m okay.” You whisper at him before he gets to ask. “Just need to pause for a second.”

Rafe kisses your palm when it comes to his face, and you watch him as he does it. He then kisses your wrist and keeps his eyes on you the entire time. If you didn’t feel so tired, your heart would’ve been tightening like crazy at him and his actions. He’s always so sweet to you, you can’t gather the strength to even hold or hide in your love for him anymore.

Rafe notices the look you’re giving him. Your eyes have never looked so in love. He thinks that it could be off the daze for having had multiple orgasms in the past hour (probably), but he doesn’t say anything. He lays another kiss on your palm and then moves over to your fingers.

You giggle under him as he kisses each of your fingertips, and Rafe grins at the sound of your laughter. Each finger gets a kiss, and you watch as he does it.

When Rafe pulls away from your hand, he looks down at your eyes again.

“What time is it?” You ask him tiredly.

“I have no clue.”

The two of you chuckle at that, and Rafe leans in closer to your face again. You lift your head off the bed to close the space between the two of you. The sounds of making out substitute the sudden silence all around the warm room. The noise of your wet lips and tongues moving and each pulling away from the kiss. All of it is audible. Rafe loves every bit of it, and you soon feel his hand by the back of your head, holding it steady.

When he pulls back to check on you, he’s interrupted by you.

“Just one more.” You whisper at him, making him chuckle and kiss you again.

You hum happily into the kiss and wrap one of your arms around Rafe’s shoulders, pulling him in closer. Your body is slowly regaining energy with time, and he can tell.

You disconnect from the kiss, and Rafe pulls back a little further this time.

“One last time?” He asks you, and you smile at him.

“Yes.” You say as his hand lays on one of your thighs and tightly squeezes it, “But be gentle.”

Rafe sits up as he continues to look at your face, and it’s almost comical the way he does it. Before you even get to laugh, Rafe moves his hips back, and your mind loses track of any coherent thought right away.

Rafe is about to ask you if you’re okay (again) and if anything hurts, but his answer soon comes into the air as you let out a little teeny tiny moan at the slightest movement he just did. He stays still inside you for one more bit, and his hands slide over your skin to hold onto your hips. He squeezes them, liking the feeling of your soft skin under him, and he’s met with the feeling of you moving your hips for him to keep going.

His hand comes to lay over your stomach and right as that happens, he begins to actually thrust into you. The entire strength that your body got back in those minutes is absolutely lost to pleasure yet again. You feel weak under him, like complete putty in his hands.

Rafe leans forward and lays a hand close to your head. It’s a familiar position between the two of you, and you’re not complaining. You watch his muscular arm contracting as he holds his own weight. Rafe’s body is absolutely maddening, and he has no idea how much you're eyeing him right now.

The filthy squelching sound comes back to the room, and you look down at the two of you, watching as your pussy takes his cock in and out all over again. You can’t understand why, but it feels good to just watch it. Rafe notices it and lifts his hand from beside your head, grabbing the back of your thighs. As soon as his hands are on the back of your knees, he pulls your legs flush against your torso, making him thrust into you much deeper and expose your soaked and puffy cunt to the both of you much better.

Your hand comes over to your pussy, your fingers don’t play with your clit as you know it’s very sensitive but you feel as your fingers soak.

Rafe watches you silently, letting out a moan or two at the way you squeeze him or the way you look down at yourself. It's an image he knows will haunt his mind at all times, but he never pulls his eyes away. You touching yourself has to be one of the most beautiful sights on the entire planet.

You pull your hand away after some time, and Rafe watches as you do it. You catch his eyes and a mischievous smile appears on your face - speaking of beautiful sights. You bring one of your fingers to your mouth, and Rafe watches as you suck onto the cum covered digit. You smile proudly for one second before moaning a little louder by Rafe thrusting into you with much more strength than before.

You pause before bringing your other finger into your mouth and don’t even think before outstretching your hand to Rafe. He takes your other cum-covered finger into his mouth, and your expression breaks into a frown as you moan weakly with the sight. He tightens his hold on your legs, and you whimper at a harsher thrust yet again.

Rafe pulls away from your hand, and he can feel his abs tightening and his pleasure growing. He curses out loud as he sees you putting both of your fingers back into your mouth, licking the pads and sucking them into your mouth.

“You are filthy.” He tells you, making you break into a bright smile.

He leans closer to your face, and you expect him to kiss you, but one of his hands lets go of your leg roughly and comes up to hold onto your face tightly. You still smile as his fingers dig into your cheeks and he kisses you. You moan loudly into his mouth, and Rafe roughens the kiss all over again.

Your tongues move against one another, and you can feel the taste of your cums in his mouth too. No matter how rough he is with you, Rafe still feels you tighten around him and moan louder against his mouth. There isn’t one thing that he does that you do not like.

He pulls away as he thrusts in a little deeper again and watches as your face contorts with pleasure. He groans too as he watches you and feels you. You keep your eyes on Rafe and he can feel how close you are yet again. He doesn’t move to touch your clit as he’s afraid it will cause any discomfort, but he does keep his thrusts steady.

In no time, you are moaning under him again and sensing your entire body in the midst of an explosion, and you’re soon followed by Rafe too. He groans as he feels his entire body tense up insanely, and his cum finally begins to fill you again. He continues to move his hips against yours, and the two of you are an exhausted mess.

Rafe lets go of your other leg, and one of his forearms comes to rest just beside your head. He has let go of your face in the middle of his orgasm, and he rests his head just beside yours on the bed. It takes quite a bit for the two of you to get back some energy to open your eyes, but, once you do, you just stare at one another for a few seconds.

Your lips touch into a long peck, and you feel the exhaustion really hitting you like a truck all of a sudden. Rafe, the one with just the most energy, moves upwards and slowly, and carefully, pulls out of you. He smooths his free hand up and down your thigh as he does it, not wanting to hurt you, and soon you relax under him.

Rafe lays a kiss on your stomach as he moves back up and leaves another one on your chest. You don’t move much but do try to calm down your entire body.

Rafe leans over to the bedside table, and you turn your head to watch him, in the golden light, take a look at his phone screen.

“Time?” You simply ask.

“It’s been almost 2 hours.” He sighs, and you let out a tired exhale of a laugh.

He puts his phone back down and comes back to you. Rafe kisses your forehead, and you close your eyes at the mere feeling of his lips again. You reopen them, and you look up at him.

“You’re spending the night, right?” You ask him weakly.

“Of course.” He whispers back at you.

You do a little short smile at him, and he notices how tired you really are. Your eyes are beginning to close, and he kisses your forehead again at the sight.

“You need to go to the bathroom, pretty girl.” He reminds you.

You whine out loud with your sleepy and hazy mind, and that makes Rafe chuckle on top of you. He sits up and wraps his arms around your body. He helps you move out of bed, ignoring every single one of your sleepy whines and takes you over to the bathroom.

Rafe takes care of opening your bedroom window, when he leaves you in the bathroom, letting some fresh air circulate in the sex-infested bedroom. He grabs some of the clothes from the floor while he’s making his way back to you and throws yours into the laundry bin.

When he gets back to the bathroom, you’re holding yourself up by the counter and turning on the water. Rafe watches as your legs shake a little as you wash your face with cold water, and you catch the sight of him in the mirror.

“We need a shower.” You tell him in a whisper before turning off the water.

Rafe nods, moving over closer to you. The breeze in the room has begun to make its way to the bathroom too, and your entire body shivers at the feeling. Rafe lays a kiss on your shoulder as he stands behind you and reaches in to turn on the water of the shower.

As the water heats up, you turn around to face him, and Rafe holds onto your sides, helping you stand more comfortably. You look up at him and rest your hands on his chest, staring into his eyes in silence. Rafe pecks your lips and pulls back to look at you.

Your eyes are back, again, filled with love as you stare at him. Rafe wraps his arms around you this time, and your chests are flush against one another. You move to give him a kiss, but it’s always Rafe that closes the distance between the two of you.

His long peck slowly becomes various kisses onto your lips, and they soon begin to travel away from your lips over to your cheeks. You giggle at him, and Rafe lets a smile appear on his face as he keeps on going.

When he pulls away and looks down at you, you finally get it.

You love him.

I LOVE THIS STORY SO MUCH, I NEVER WANT TO STOP WRITING IT. LIKE, LOOK AT HOW CUTE THEY ARE.... UGH.

I hope you guys liked it either way. Feedback is appreciated!!

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks rafe #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #netflix outer banks #outer banks #obx 3 #obx3 #drew starkey #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader

1K notes · View notes

harryspet · 2 years ago

Text

butterfly kisses | p.parker

[Warnings] dark!grey!peter parker x reader, innocent!little!reader, daddy!caregiver!peter, dominant x submissive, blackwidow!reader, avengers compound/young avengers au, ddlg, age regression, oral sex (female recieving), dubcon!! sex, mental manipulation, reader has ptsd, grooming?, unprotected sex, little editing

A/N: [model in banner is @/enchanted_noir, gif credit to @/defendingwarrior]

In which Peter finds out your little secret and takes advantage.

word count: 5.3k

taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayonegg-blog @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan @doozywoozy @oneoftheprettynerds @xoxonotme @winterbuckystan1917 @simpformarvelmenandwoman @hallecarey1

main masterlist

Yelena was practically unstoppable, giving both Bucky and Sam a run for their money. She was faster than them, leaving them spinning whenever she rushed past them. They thought they had her at one point, Bucky’s vibranium arm wrapping around her neck. She was quick to bring her elbow back into his chest and then her fist to his groin. Bucky doubled over but Sam quickly approached with fists raised. She seemed to land all her punches but also take each one that Sam landed with the most grace you’d ever witnessed.

She tried to trip him, kicking her legs behind his own, but he brought her down with him. They rolled together before he had her pinned beneath him. She thrusted her lower body up, weakening his stance, before grabbing his own arm, pushing it against his chest and pushing him into the mat. As Sam’s head hit the ground hard, he’d clearly accepted defeat.

“The groin shots are cheap, Belova!” Bucky was still reeling in pain. She eyed you, a tired smirk on her face, as she took in her victory.

“It’s only fair. You’ve got a hundred pounds on me and I’ve got the ability to kick you in the balls,” You smiled at her words, watching as Yelena helped Sam off the ground.

You heard footsteps beside you and soon you were looking to your left as Peter Parker claimed the space beside you, “Did you see that?” The question became rhetorical as you noticed his wide eyes and the way he was staring at Yelena, “That was just the third round. So far Yelena’s in the lead.”

“Damn,” Peter cursed though it wasn’t very intimidating on his lips. You only really saw him as the kind, sweet guy who charitably helped you and Yelena adjust after moving to the new compound, “Are you gonna go next?”

You instantly shook your head although you realized your answer might seem strange considering the sports bra and leggings you were wearing. You’d put on workout clothes but hadn’t quite gotten the courage up to train yet, “Yelena is way better hand to hand than me,” It wasn’t a lie but you’d spent your entire life training hand to hand. You grew up in The Red Rom just like she had and were trained by the exact same people. You’d gone toe to toe with Yelena as well and you used to be able to hold your own with her.

The look on Peter’s face was curious, like he wanted to know more, but he didn’t press the specific topic, “I was gonna box and I’m in need of a sparring partner if you’d like to help me out,” That didn’t give you much room to turn him down so you nodded hesitantly.

You hadn’t told anyone, only Yelena vaguely knew how much you were frightened of the training room. This place wasn’t at all like the Red Room, you weren’t being beaten or mind controlled into submission. Despite all that, you were afraid of going into survival mode and never being able to escape it again.

“It’ll be low pressure, I’m way less intense than those guys,” Peter continued, placing a hand on your shoulder, as if he sensed your unease, “Plus, I need way more practice fighting without the webs. I get so used to being in the air sometimes that I forget how to manage on my feet.”

You followed him to the wall on the far right that held all the equipment. You eyed a set of white, 12 ounce fighting gloves but Peter stopped you before you could grab them, “First, jump rope,” He held two sets of jump rope in his hand. One set black and the other green, “What color?”

“I like green,” You admitted and that seemed to amuse him.

“Y/N!” You heard your name shouted across the room. You turned to see Yelena wrapping a towel around her neck, water bottle in hand, “I’m gonna go pass out but movie night later with Kate?”

You raised your thumb, “Enjoy your nap, I’ll see you later!”

“Enjoy Peter, I’ll see you later,” She winked very badly before she turned on her heel.

You turned back to Peter, your face warm with embarrassment, “She’s funny,” Peter commented.

“When she’s not being annoying,” You responded, taking both handles of the rope and stretching it out before you, “Annoyingly clever and annoyingly good at everything.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, “I heard Miss Nat recommended you both for positions in the new Avengers initiative.”

You shrugged, “So?”

“So, that means you’re probably annoyingly clever and good at everything too. You just haven’t shown everyone yet.”

“Maybe so,” Those words were all you’d give up to him. He probably had a point but this environment didn’t really allow for deep thinking for you. You thought you might turn around at any moment and see rows and rows of brainwashed agents behind you.

You followed his lead and his pace as he began to skip the rope. You weren’t in your best shape, you could feel it already, but you were keeping up. At first, you regretted choosing to stand directly in front of him but the eye contact slowly became less awkward, “This is kinda easy, Peter” You admitted.

“How. Are you. Speaking. So Easily?” Peter spoke through gasping breaths. Soon, you were increasing your pace as you felt you could go faster. You ended up going way faster than Peter, spinning in circles, as you tried cool tricks.

Peter was trying to keep up with your pace but eventually he had to stop, holding on to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. You slowed down soon after, not wanting to be any more of a show off, “So I was right,” He decided, “You’re good at that.”

You hated the work you used to do but you were reminded of how much you liked the adrenaline rush that came with being physically active. You were far from how you used to be but perhaps the world didn’t need another trained killer, just someone trying her best.

After your warm up, you and Peter went on to actual boxing. You went back and forth with one person holding the punching mitts while the other practiced combinations. This exercise reminded you of the time you lost to one of the other widows in a sparring match. You were taught the importance of being fast on your feet so your opponents blows can’t land effective blows as well as how to land an effective blow despite having a short reach. She made you chase her around the mat, exhausting you, so she could overtake you.

The punishment for the loser was always for every other widow to form a line and one by one land a punch to the loser’s stomach. You remembered the different colors of bruises that your stomach turned and how your mouth tasted like blood for days. The times when you were forced to hurt someone else were even more imprinted in your mind.

Peter realized you weren’t giving it your all, your mind clearly having gone elsewhere, “Hey, hey,” He put down his hands, closing the gap between you. As he came closer, and despite the kind look on his face, your anxiety went through your roof, “What’s wrong? That was good!”

You nodded, “Yeah, I-I just got distracted . . . sorry.”

“That’s okay. You wanna take a break?” You were already taking off your gloves.

“I think that’s enough for me today,” You spoke curtly, stepping away from him. You knew you’d start hyperventilating soon and you didn’t want anyone to see the person you turned into when you were stressed, “Thanks for this, P-Peter!”

His concerned eyes were on you as you walked, a little too fast, away from him.

“Yelena! I told you I didn’t want to watch this!” You pushed her shoulder as she maniacally giggled. After a jumpscare, you’d completely spilled your bowl of pretzels and M&M’s which Kate was now on the floor cleaning up.

“What? That wasn’t even scary!”

You didn’t understand how a movie about a party clown killing a bunch of school aged children wasn’t nightmare material. Kate clearly didn’t like the movie either but she wasn’t nearly as skittish as you, “I’m picking next time,” Kate announced, “Something we would all actually like.”

“No fun,” Yelena pouted, rolling herself off of your bed. You all rotated who would host movie nights and tonight it took place in your room. You were always an accommodating host, having crochet each of the girls their own special blankets, and lined your dresser with bowls of their favorite snacks. Fairly lights flicker above your bed but the cozy nature of your room served as a sharp contrast to the movie you watched on the screen mounted across the room.

“I want something romantic,” You argued, “Maybe a rom com or a historical romance like Pride and Prejudice.”

Yelena rolled her eyes.

“How about a romantic thriller?” Kate asked you, ignoring the blonde assassin’s usual behavior. You nodded eagerly, “Okay, cool. I’ll do some research!”

“I think it’s time for me to turn in,” Yelena faked a yawn.

Kate grabbed her arm, dragging her towards the door, “C’mon grumpy. Night, Y/N!”

You waved her goodbye, hearing Yelena shout as she was dragged out of the room, suddenly chipper again, “Night, Y/N!”

You enjoyed spending time with your friends especially now that you and Yelena had become so close to Kate. When they were gone, you missed their company but you knew you needed your nights to yourself. You began your nightly routine, switching the TV from the credits of a horror movie to the Disney logo.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Lock bedroom door, please,” After hearing the click of the lock, you released a deep breath, “And run a bath, please.”

You cleaned up any remnants of your friends, folding up their blankets and placing them inside the ottoman near your couch. You kept all the tools for your regression in a secret compartment of your closet. You knew it was unlikely that someone would go rummaging through your personal belongings but you liked the security of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s system.

Picking out pajamas for yourself, you chose a pink, care bear onesie and pink socks. You laid it out on your bed before getting undressed. When you finally got to sink into the bath, you felt the stresses of the day melt away. It was a bubble bath, of course, and you loved the mindless task of constructing figures with them and giving yourself mustaches and crowns.

You were already slipping into your headspace. You’d desperately wanted to be here especially after training with Peter.

After your bath, you were now trying to practice your skin care in front of the mirror. For years, you barely looked at yourself in the mirror, thinking it would be easier to live with yourself if you dehumanized yourself as much as possible. It was rare that you’d let your eyes wander to your lower stomach where you could see the straight incision scar that traveled from beneath your belly button to your public area. Your own exposure therapy didn’t seem to be working as tears sprung in your eyes everytime.

You left the bathroom, deciding that you’d braid your hair into a protective style without a mirror. You dressed in your pajamas, grabbing your favorite stuffed animal, a green frog, and burrowing yourself into your sheets. Tinkerbell was playing on the television and at the end of the movie, when Tinkerbell helps bring spring to the mainland, almost always helped sink you into your headspace even deeper.

It was the middle of the night and you should’ve been sleeping but you had a craving for ice cream. You’d set a rule that you’d always stay in your room when you were in little space but little you often had a mind of her own. You padded to the door, softly asking Friday to open the door, before you checked if the coast was clear. In your pink socks, you tiptoed to the kitchen, holding Prince Naveen close to your chest.

The compound was quiet and you assumed each of the other Avengers were either fast asleep or keeping to themselves. You never knew Tony Stark but you were quite grateful for his technology … and his money. You weren’t sure what kind of life you’d be able to make for yourself if you didn’t have this opportunity.

You rummaged through the freezer, finding a half-eaten container of sherbert ice cream. The color was pink like your onesie so it was a no brainer that you’d choose this to dig into. You shut the freezer before finding a big spoon in one of the drawers. You climbed onto the kitchen counter, making yourself comfortable, as you began to dig in.

“Y/N?” You perked up to see a brown eyed boy staring at you from across the kitchen. He was dressed in a compression shirt and sweatpants, the former highlighting an extremely muscular chest and arms. His figure was even more exaggerated as he crossed his arms. He grinned at you, taking in your appearance, “Is this something Yelena made you wear?”

You frowned, confused, “I’m Love-a-lot Bear.”

Peter looked even more confused than you, “Oh . . . and who’s this guy?” He came closer and you felt a bit annoyed that he was interrupting your ice cream eating. You scooped a bite into your mouth, kicking your legs in happiness as you tasted the deliciousness.

You looked down at the frog stuffie sitting beside you, “Prince Naveen. He got turned into a frog but I’m taking care of him.”

“Like in that movie …” He raised an eyebrow.

You nodded, “Princess and the Frog. Have you seen it?”

“Once, I think.”

“I’ve seen it about …” You calculated it in your mind, “Fifty-four times. I can quote it word by word. Do you want to hear? The Evening Star is shining bright, so make a wish and hold on tight, there's magic in the air tonight-” You began to sing but Peter shushed you as your voice got louder.

“You’re gonna wake everyone up,” He whispered and you looked down, cross eyed at the finger that was now pressed against your lips. You nodded and he slowly removed it.

“Oops,” You whispered, “Why is everyone sleeping when there’s ice cream to eat?”

“Y/N … did something happen to you?”

You shrugged, other more pressing things occupying your thoughts, “I don’t think so … I just wanted ice cream. I better get going because I left all my other stuffies and they can get into trouble when I’m not watching them. Plus, I’m watching all the Tinker Bell movies.”

You hopped off the counter, “Do you want to come?” You felt like you could trust him and that’s why you wrapped one of your hands in his. He didn’t answer with words but he followed you, grabbing your frog that you almost left behind, as you led him to your room, “What’s your name?”

“You don’t remember?” You looked at him with innocent eyes, “Peter, my name’s Peter.”

“Like Peter Pan?” You smiled.

“Yeah, like Peter Pan.”

Peter paid close attention as you introduced him to each one of your stuffed animals. Each one had a name and a short backstory. You told him how you liked to get a new one every time you were in the city. Before he saw your room, Peter never would’ve guessed you’d like any of this stuff. You were quieter and more humble than Yelena but Peter knew you were just as strong. He wasn’t sure why you were acting this way but he wouldn’t deny a chance to get closer to you.

You also explained the entire Tinker Bell franchise to him, introducing him to every character and the politics of Pixie Hollow, “Did you grow up watching these movies?”

You shook your head, yawning, before you rested your head on his shoulder. The two of you sat closely on the couch, your legs sprawled over Peter’s lap, “I didn’t get to be smaller… for a long time. I like being like this, Peter.” Of course you weren’t watching Disney movies growing up as a little girl in the Red Room, Peter suddenly realized. Peter’s mind was reeling, not truly understanding how you seemed to be a completely different person.

You fell asleep soon and Peter knew he couldn’t spend the night here. He couldn’t risk someone seeing him coming out of your room and he certainly didn’t want the other version of you waking up with him in the bed. This version of you didn’t seem to recognize him so would you even remember he was here?

Peter carried you to your bed, tucking you in, and placing your favorite frog in your arms. He held your cheek in his hands, feeling the soft skin there, and admired the features on your face. He liked you before he’d known just how innocent you could be. He imagined your hand in his again, he could still feel the softness of your hands and the warmness in his heart.

Peter wanted to grow to love you.

The next morning, Peter was working in the lab with Bruce. He’d skipped breakfast, not sure if he was ready to face you after what happened last night. You’d gone from sparring partners to cuddle buddies so quickly that Peter was worried he’d imagined the entire thing last night, “Mr. Banner, sir?”

The man looked up from his laptop, “Yeah, Peter?”

“What do you know about trauma responses?”

“I’m not a psychologist, Peter,” He folded his arms, his eyebrows scrunched on his forehead.

“But you’re a genius, right?”

Bruce gave him an amused look, “Why are you thinking about trauma responses?”

“Well … would it make sense for someone who went through a traumatic event … or had a traumatic life, for them to sort of revert back to a younger age.”

“Age regression?” Peter nodded as Bruce caught on, “I’d consider it a coping mechanism maybe for illnesses like PTSD. I’ve seen it used as a therapy technique. It allows the person to go back to an earlier state that may have been less traumatizing for them. I imagine this could be voluntary or involuntary depending on the case.”

Peter sat with his words for a moment, “And how do you think someone could . . . help another person that’s age regressing.”

“If it’s a good coping mechanism that’s working for them, I imagine any kind of support would be good. Being there for that person, however they need. Hopefully they get outside support from a mental health specialist for whatever is causing the regression,” Peter nodded, “You’ve met someone like this.”

“Uhm . . . yeah,” Peter answered, “Someone I met in the city while playing Spiderman. It’s not a big deal. I’m just curious.”

Bruce didn’t push the subject further.

Your work was interrupted by Kate knocking on the glass door that led into the room. Both you and Yelena were standing behind her and you seemed to be laughing and talking together, “Pete, we’re going to the city! You coming?” Kate shouted through the glass.

“You all have got a big mission tomorrow,” Bruce warned, not looking up from his laptop.

“We’ll probably be back before late,” Peter stood from his seat, a mischievous look on his face, “No worries.”

Bruce hummed as if he wasn’t sure that he believed the young Avenger.

“I’m sorry I ran out of training so fast,” Peter was shocked to hear you say. You were sitting beside each other on the train, an awkward situation that Yelena and Kate had arranged themselves, “I get overwhelmed sometimes.”

“Right,” Peter nodded nervously, “It’s okay. I get overwhelmed sometimes too, you know.”

“Really?”

It really seemed that you hadn’t remembered him being with you last night. Peter half expected to see you in a onesie again, chatting away about Disney movies and desserts again. Instead, you were dressed like a normal, twenty-something who was going to the city with her friends.

“Yeah, sometimes I’ll see something or hear something that reminds me of my Aunt … or Mr. Stark, and it doesn’t matter what I’m doing, I just feel like I’m gonna hyperventilate. Like I can’t get air properly into my lungs and I start sweating … and I just get irritable and not fun to be around. And when it’s over, I just feel embarrassed.”

Something flickered in your eyes, something like understanding, “I get embarrassed too. I suppose it’s just a chemical thing. Fight or flight, I mean. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“You’re probably right,” Peter’s smile was weak, “It’s just hard losing people.”

You nodded in agreement, “It’s hard not having anyone to lose.”

Peter wondered if you remembered the family that you were taken from. Peter even wondered if you considered looking for them, “Friends are just as important as family sometimes. It’s good that you have Yelena and Kate.”

“That’s true. Maybe we should be better friends, Peter,” Peter’s eyes turned to you quickly, a bit of wonderment on his face, “If you want, I mean.”

“Hell yeah,” Peter spoke a little quickly but he was encouraged by the warm smile that grew on your face, “I have places around Queens I want to show you guys.”

Peter showed you all where he grew up and the four of you enjoyed sandwiches from Delmar’s for lunch. Next, Peter wanted to show you guys his favorite part of Queens. The museums. Initially, Yelena took a hard stance that going to museums would be boring but even she was entertained by the cool exhibits at the science museum Peter showed you around.

You and Peter talked so much. Much more than either of you expected. You were practically glued to his lip just the same way Kate was always glued to Yelena.

You went to an art museum next, joining an already established tour group in the middle of their own tour. Peter watched you walking around the gift shop in wonderment at all the handmade knick knacks that were for sale in order to support the museum. Peter approached you, a gift bag in hand, “I got you something.”

“What?” You blurted out, confusion evident in your features, “You don’t need to-”

“Just look,” Peter pulled out the miniature figurine he’d just purchased. It was of a small green frog sitting underneath a red mushroom for shade.

Your eyes widened, “Oh, Peter!” You took the figurine carefully in your hands, your voice going up several octaves as excitement filled you, “It’s so beautiful! Look at the little mushroom! How did you know I loved frogs?”

Peter lied, “I just thought you’d like it.”

“You really didn’t have to. I don’t deserve-”

“You do,” Peter assured you, “Keep it, please. It’s for you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you hugged him, “Thank you,” The way his hand pressed into your back sent shivers through you.

“Are you gonna take good care of it?” Peter knew his words came out slightly patronizing and he could tell he might’ve embarrassed you slightly but you nodded shyly in response.

“I will, I promise.”

When Peter knocked on your door a few nights later, the compound was quiet. All that he could see in the dark hallway were sparkling lights shining beneath your doorway. When the door opened, he was glad to see Smaller you, “Peter Pan,” You greeted him, your voice soft and sleepy, “Hi.”

“Hello, little one,” You looked pleased with the nickname, “Or should I call you princess?”

Peter closed the door behind him, taking in the fact that you were only in a white t-shirt, pale blue panties and fuzzy socks, “Both,” You angled your head at him, “But I’d like to be a fairy princess.”

“I should’ve known.” There was something so alluring about being with you in this state. It was like being with you at your most vulnerable state and Peter liked being the only one who knew about Smaller you, “What have you been doing up so late?”

There was no Disney movie playing tonight but F.R.I.D.A.Y. was playing a soft melody of classical music. Peter wondered why you’d made that choice. You grabbed his hand, bringing him over to your own desk to show him what you’d been working on, “Drawing,” You answered, showing him the array of papers, pushing the scatter crayons out of the way, “Look at these, Petey. Look.”

Two of the photos were quite familiar. One was a drawing of a small frog sitting beneath a mushroom and the other was two people standing together near what he assumed was an art exhibit. The girl was wearing a plaid shirt just like she had the other day and the boy was wearing a black jacket.

“It’s me and you,” Peter said.

“It is?” Your doe eyes looking up at him threatened to make him melt there on the spot, “Will you take me there?”

“Of course,” Peter agreed, “We’d look so cute together.”

“Yeah,” You beamed, “But I’d wear a pretty dress.”

“And I’d look like a frog in comparison. It would be perfect.”

“Don’t say that, Petey,” You squeezed his hand, “You look like . . . can I tell you a secret?”

Peter nodded and you motioned for him to lean down so you could whisper in his ear, “I think you like a handsome Prince.”

Peter chuckled at that, “Do you?” You nodded and Peter whispered into your ear next, “I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

You looked away shyly. You showed him the rest of the pictures and Peter encouraged you to put all the crayons back in the proper spot back in the carton.

“Are you ready for bed yet?” Peter asked you, “It’s getting really late.”

You frowned, “I don’t like sleep. Can we stay up? Maybe we can play pretend?”

“Why don’t you like to sleep?”

You just shook your head, letting go of Peter’s hand, so you could rummage through your closet and find something else to do, “We could play a card game!”

Peter faked a yawn, walking over to your bed, “I’m really tired, Y/N. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Or a board game!”

“I’ll just sleep and you can play a game. I have some special sleepy dust I got from a fairy friend of mine. It’s gonna help me sleep,” Peter climbed into the fluffy white sheets of your bed, knowing your words had definitely caught your attention, “I guess you won’t need any, princess.”

Peter heard your feet pad over to the bed, “You have a fairy friend?”

“Yeah. I went to outer space once and I met one,” Peter shrugged, “On their planet, lots of princesses and princes have trouble sleeping because they have nightmares.”

“Oh,” The look on your face was doleful, “I get bad dreams like all the time. Would it work on me?”

“C’mere and I’ll show you,” Peter patted the spot next to you. You were hesitant as you climbed in the bed with him, “Lay down on your back for me.”

You did as he said, laying on your back with your head resting against a pillow, “And close your eyes for me, little one.”

“But I’m scared-” Peter pressed his hand to your waist, looking up and down your body. Being so close to you with so little clothing … Peter’s idea turned darker than he originally intended it to be. He was helping you, that meant he could help himself a little too.

“I’m here, don’t worry,” As you slowly close your eyes, Peter took the opportunity to let his hands wander even further, “I’m going to sprinkle the dust over you now. Keep your eyes closed.”

Peter could feel you growing slightly impatient, “Petey, I don’t feel anything yet-”

“Of course you can’t feel anything yet, silly. I haven’t activated it yet,” Peter parted your legs, climbing over your body and settling between your legs, “I want you to call me something, okay? To help the fairy dust work.”

“What is it?”

“Call me Daddy.”

“But you’re not-”

“I am, I’m taking care of you, right?” You nodded, “Then that’s what you have to call me. Especially for the dust to work. Understand?”

“Okay … okay, Daddy,” The word couldn’t have sounded any better on your lips. Peter’s hard-on was already pressing against the fabric of his boxers. His fingers travel beneath your panties, softly feeling your folds. Before you could say another word, Peter’s lips were pressed to yours, swallowing your concerns and then eventually your whimpers.

Peter made his way down to your breasts, pulling your shirt up so they were exposed. He attacked the sensitive buds with his tongue, which seemed to bring you even more pleasure than the gentle fingering of your clit. He could feel you growing wetter, leading him to his fingers traveling to your sensitive hole.

“You’re so beautiful, princess,” Peter said as he kissed over your stomach, including the scar that brought you so much anguish, “Daddy’s gonna take care of you. Make you real sleepy.”

When Peter first slid your panties to the side and pressed his mouth to your hole, your eyes shot open, “Stay still, little one,” Peter spoke with his mouthful. You tried your best not to squirm as the touch brought you an overwhelming new feeling of pleasure.

You wanted to smile, to laugh, and to scream all the same time. It was his softness and wetness pressed against your own softness and wetness. He kissed you down there in a way that was difficult to describe but you could feel a slow build starting in your toes till it all completely rushed to your head. Your body was experiencing waves of pleasure and you were glad when he removed his mouth so you weren’t tortured further.

Peter watched you ride at the orgasm. He pulled down his sweatpants and boxers with urgencies before grabbing your arms and pinning them above your head. He pressed his tip against your interest, his eyes looking darkly into yours as he slowly pushed inside, “Daddy,” You winced, “P-Peter – Daddy, it hurts!”

“I know, princess,” Peter grunted, “You can take it all, I know you can.”

Peter was right, you somehow stretched around him and that feeling of tearing soon subsided. Now, all you felt was completely full and completely at his mercy. You were trapped beneath him which meant he could set the pace for how fast he wanted to go. You started to only think of him inside you, of that primal pleasure that he was unlocking and the complete warmness that filled your skin.

“Oh, you feel fucking amazing,” Peter pressed his forehead to yours so he was as close to your as possible. You felt his own eyelashes fluttering against yours, “You feel so good. Tell Daddy you love it.”

“I–” A hard thrust, “Love it, Daddy. I-I love it.”

You were so tight. Impossibly tight. He had to remind himself to not spill over to fast and he slowed his pace but fucked you even harder. When he felt you tightening around him, he felt safe in releasing inside of you.

Your eyes closed as you tried to catch your breath. Peter fell beside you, and just like he’d promised, you felt like you could sleep for the next few days. Peter pulled the comforter over your body, pressing himself into your tired figure. He admired you closely, his nose rubbing against yours as his lips hovered above your own.

“I sleepy … Daddy …”

“Goodnight, little one.”

Peter laid there until dawn and all he could think about was how pretty you looked when you came.

#Dark Fic #dark fics #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #black!reader #little space #yelena belova #kate bishop #peter parker #dark!spiderman #mcu smut #peter parker smut #avengers smut

2K notes · View notes

supercap2319 · 2 years ago

Text

Meeting

Stefan Salvatore x Male Reader

A/N: Y/N meets the legend that is Katherine, Pierce.

Y/N walked around the Lockwood mansion until he saw his sister standing outside. He walks over to her. “Oh, God. Damon drives me crazy. He's walking around like he's some kind of hero for healing Caroline when it's his fault all of this happened in the first place. Honestly, I don’t know what you see in him, sis.”

Elena gives him a sympathetic look. “I'm sorry, Y/N. What Damon's done is just awful. He is awful. I should know better than to fall for someone like him.”

Y/N smirks as he takes a breath. “Okay, better. Hateful Damon moment over. Thanks.” Y/N touches her arm, and he gasps as he’s pulled into a premonition. In the vision, he sees Stefan hugging Elena. She gives him an innocent look as she leans upward to kiss him. Stefan harshly pulls her head back, roars as he shows his vampire face and fangs and throws Elena over the couch. She gets back up at inhuman speed. She smirks at Stefan, who glares daggers at her as he says in an enraged tone: “Katherine…”

Katherine turns her head. “At least I fooled one of you.”

Y/N comes out of the vision and looks at Elena/Katherine. She looks at him, concerned. “You okay, Y/N?” Y/N tries to keep calm under her calculated gaze. “Yeah, you know how I have bad cramps.”

“Yeah, right…”

“Um, I've got to find Tyler and pay my respects. I'll be back,” Y/N says. Elena/Katherine nods her head. “Okay.” She smiles sweetly as Y/N turns and leaves. As he does so, she frowns.

Y/N walks into another room and brings out his cellphone as he dials Elena’s number and brings the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” Elena’s voice says over the phone.

“Elena? Where are you?”

“Y/N, I know we’re late. Jenna, Jeremy, and I are getting in the car now. We’ll be there in five.” She hangs up. Y/N puts the phone slowly down as he realizes that his premonition was right. It wasn’t Elena he was talking to just now. It was… Katherine! He turns to leave as he comes face to face with Katherine. She has a hand on her hip. He gasps as she smiles at him. “You must be, Y/N. We haven’t officially met. I’m Katherine.”

“I know who you are.”

“Of course you do.”

“H-How is this possible? How can you look exactly like my sister?” They could be twin sisters. The exact same copy. Katherine examines Y/N up and down like she knows him pretty well. She gets closer to him and runs a finger over his neck and whispers in his ear as she walks by. “You’re asking the wrong questions.”

“What questions are those?”

Katherine just chuckles. “You’ll find out, eventually.” She walks back to her original spot and points a finger at Y/N. “You're the baby brother, right? I've been putting all the pieces of Elena's life together. Isobel told me it was a bit of a puzzle. I do know who Jenna and Jeremy are.” She walks around him again. “And I’ve met that delicious ex-boyfriend of yours, Matt, who's sweet on Caroline, and then there's you…” She stops and turns to the Gilbert Witch. “The vampire-hating, Stefan stealing, Gilbert bitch. Sorry I meant, witch.” She smiles. “Did I do good?”

Y/N turns to leave as Katherine super speeds around him and blocks his way out. He focuses and pushes as he uses his pain infliction power as Katherine groans and grabs her head in pain. Y/N really let her have it, much more than he did to Damon. She continues to groan and hold her head as she looks up at Y/N completely fine.

“I've been around a long time, Y/N; you're gonna have to do better than that.” She grabs Y/N by the throat and super speeds and slams him against the wall. She vamps out and roars as her fangs show. Y/N struggles against her. She’s stronger than him, but not more powerful.

“You want me to do better? Fine!” Y/N squints his eyes as he sends Katherine flying off of him with telekinesis. She hits the ground and quickly gets back up as she looks at Y/N, shocked.

“Was that good enough for you?” Y/N mocks.

Katherine charges forward towards Y/N, as he opens the doors with his powers to expose them to the other guests. Katherine's face goes back to normal as she notices this. “Not bad.”

“Katherine.” Y/N and Katherine turn to see Stefan in the doorway. Katherine smirks. “Stefan.”

Stefan gives her a disgusted look. “Leave my boyfriend alone.”

“Boyfriend? Huh, I never would have thought that you batted for both teams.” She walks towards the door, tracing a finger on Stefan’s chest. “I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will,” Y/N said.

She leaves as Y/N and Stefan look at each other. “You okay? She didn’t hurt you, didn’t she?” Stefan looks him over for any damages.

Y/N smiles at Stefan’s caring nature over him. “I’m fine, Fangs. Just a little shaken up, that's all.”

“Well, stay here. I’ll deal with Katherine.”

Y/N shook his head. “No, she’s too dangerous to be alone with. I’m coming with you.”

“Y/N I don’t–”

“–End of discussion, mister. I’m going.” Y/N follows after Katherine out into the main room. Stefan sighs and chuckles. Damn. He’s got one stubborn witch boyfriend. He follows him to see what Katherine wants here in Mystic Falls.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #vampire diaries #the vampire diares #paul wesley #stefan salvatore #paul wesley x male reader #witch gilbert #stefan salvatore x male reader #stefan x male #katherine pierce #katerina petrova #nina dobrev

264 notes · View notes

writtendaydreamm · 3 years ago

Text

One Rule

Daniel had one rule he followed on race weekends. No sex.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut

It was a Grand Prix weekend and the first one y/n’s been able to attend all season. While Daniel was excited to have his girlfriend cheering him on during qualifying today, he wasn’t too thrilled about what a tease she’s been as of late. She was proving to be quite the distraction. Not exactly what he needed leading up to a big race.

It was a bit out of character for y/n. She normally tried to be as unassuming as possible during race weekends. The last thing she wanted was to jeopardize Daniel’s focus or performance. She mostly stayed out of sight and out of mind allowing him to get into the right headspace. She understood being a driver’s girlfriend required sacrifice. Fortunately for her, Daniel never asked for much. He really only had one rule during race weekends. No sex.

Now, if you know Daniel, you know he’s not really a follow-the-rules type of guy. He was more of a rule-breaker if anything. So for him to even have a no-sex rule at all, meant it was something he took seriously.

This all started very early on in his career after a horrible performance during a race he happened to have sex prior to. Needless to say, that race was one of the worst he’s ever had. Whether that incident was a fluke or if the sex really did affect his performance, only God knows. Either way, since then Daniel made it a rule to never have sex before driving. Whether that be for free practice, qualifying, or the actual race.

In accordance with his no-sex rule, the couple kept it PG these past few days sharing nothing more than some chaste kisses. It was driving Y/n up the wall. This rule never really bothered her before. But it had been so long since she and Daniel got to spend any real time together. It’s probably been around a month since they last saw each other in person. Every part of her missed him. His presence. His touch.

If she weren’t so desperate for him, she’d be impressed by his willpower. If the roles were reversed she would’ve given in by now. Y/n was not making it easy for him at all. Teasing him every chance she got. But to no avail. Dan still hasn’t budged

Y/n was just about ready to accept defeat until last night when Daniel’s resolve started to show signs of wavering. In a last-ditch effort to try and turn Daniel on enough so he’d finally fuck her, y/n wore nothing more one of than his t-shirts to bed. She was hoping for the best, but not expecting much. Daniel was already settled under the covers, headphones on, and ready for bed by the time she got there. But around a few minutes after she joined him, he got up to take a shower. Odd, since he had already taken one just before bed. Then after hearing a faint but familiar grunt coming form the bathroom, it clicked. He was taking a cold shower to get rid of his boner.

So when Y/n got dressed this morning, she didn’t choose the skimpy summer outfit she was wearing by chance. It was a calculated decision. One that would hopefully break whatever was left of Daniel’s resolve so he’ll finally toss that no-sex rule out the window.

When y/n asked him to tie her top from behind, Daniel nearly lost it right then. All he wanted to do was pepper kisses all along her neck and shoulder. How he wished he could just turn her around and pepper kisses along her breasts that were supported by nothing more than this flimsy top. But remembering his rule, he took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts aside.

Today was qualifying and Daniel was determined to earn a starting position within the top 5. He needed to be laser-focused on driving his race car at its limit today. Getting everything he can out of it. He had half a mind to lock y/n up in his car for the rest of the day the way she was acting right now. She was being a total tease the entire drive from their hotel to the circuit. Doing all the things she knew would turn him on. Like playing with his curls. Lightly massaging that spot on the nape of his neck. Running her hands over his thighs. Hiking her already short skirt up even higher.

Daniel knew exactly what she was doing. It’s not like she was being shy or discreet at all. And as much as he wanted to give her what she wanted, to rip the delicate fabric off her and take her in the back seat of his McLaren right then and there, he couldn’t shake the thought of his no-sex rule from his mind.

Swallowing hard, Daniel used every last bit of his self-control to resist her. He was so tense, his grip on the steering wheel had turned his knuckles white. Relief washed over him seeing the circuit was only a few minutes away now. He wasn’t sure how long his will would’ve lasted.

When Daniel finally parked the car, there was no denying the very visible tent that had formed in his jeans.

“Y/n,” Daniel groaned irritatedly. There were going to be cameras everywhere. There was no way he could walk out of his car like this.

She quickly feigned innocence. “What?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You know what. I can’t go out on the paddock like this right now.”

“Well all you have to do is let me help you take care of that then,” y/n pouted.

“Y/n, c’mon now. You know we can’t,” Daniel reminded her. His voice lacked any actual conviction though. “I just need a second to relax.”

Daniel closed his eyes, started to take deep breaths. In and out. In and out. It seemed to work as the tightness in his jeans started to let up.

That feeling didn’t last long though as y/n used this moment to feel him up through his jeans. Daniel’s eyes shot open as he inhaled sharply at the feeling. His hand gripped her wrist tightly but made no effort to remove her hand.

Y/n’s pussy throbbed at the feeling of how hard Daniel was for her and at how miserably he was failing to contain himself.

“The last time I fucked a girlfriend before a race I had the worst race of my life y/n,” Daniel warned her weakly.

“Well obviously, your ex wasn’t a good enough fuck,” y/n countered, her hand squeezing him through his jeans just a little. “If you won’t fuck me then at let me at least suck you off baby. How about that?”

Daniel couldn’t think straight. His mind wanted one thing, and his dick wanted something else. Her suggestion seemed like a good idea. It would be like a loophole. It wasn’t technically the same kind of sex that his rule referred to. A blowjob should be fine, right?

He took a glance around the parking lot to make sure no one was there. His McLaren was tinted pretty dark, but not dark enough to conceal them completely. A little part of him hoped someone would be outside so he had a reason to resist her. But a much larger part of him was incredibly eager to feel y/n’s lips around him.

“Fuck it,” Daniel grunted under his breath, throwing caution to the wind. He released his tight grip on her wrist and instantly took her lips in his for a hungry kiss.

Y/n smiled against his lips as she started palming him through his jeans. She pulled away, shifting in her seat to better face him. Her hands eagerly began undoing his belt and jeans.

Once she got them undone and Dan helped her pull them down mid-thigh, his dick sprang up. Wasting no time, y/n began pumping him with her hands.

Dan threw his head back in pleasure. He ran a hand through her hair, fingers lightly raking her scalp. As good as this felt right now, he knew how much better her lips would feel around him. His hand on her head began pushing her face towards his dick.

Y/n scoffed at his impatience but she figured she’d teased the poor guy long enough. Rather than fighting his hand, she allowed him to guide her head closer and closer to his dick. When she got close enough, y/n dribbled a little spit onto it.

“Fucking hell, y/n,” Daniel moaned. He may have controlled his urges for her all weekend, but it wasn’t easy. He was ready to let go and reach m the release she was about to bring him to.

When y/n finally wrapped her lips around him, he bit his lip hard to hold in another moan daring to slip out. She focused on his tip, swirling her tongue around it. Her hands pumping the rest of his dick her lips had yet to run across.

When she felt satisfied with the attention had given the tip of his dick, she released him from her mouth with a pop. The cool air from the AC still running was a stark contrast to her warm, wet mouth.

Her tongue licked a stripe from the very base of his dick, up to the tip before taking him in her mouth again. She did this a couple more times before finally sinking her mouth down on as much of his dick as she could handle. He gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail so as to keep it out of her way and to give him a better view.

Daniel could no longer hold in his moans when he felt her start hollowing out her cheeks adding extra suction as she bobbed her head.

“It feels so fucking good, baby.”

Y/n began moving her head up and down faster at the praise.

“Yeah baby, just like that. Just like that,” Daniel instructed her, his voice hoarse and husky. Both hands were now on her head helping to guide her up and down at the exact pace he needed. He was getting close.

Y/n took her mouth off him, needing some air. Daniel let out a low groan as he saw what a wreck she looked like. Her eyes were tearing, lipstick smudged, saliva all around her mouth. What a fucking sight. With his hand still on the back of her head, he brought her face to his for a wet, sloppy kiss. Y/n kept pumping his dick with her hand as their tongues battled for dominance.

Daniel pulled away first, missing the feeling of her lips on his dick. Y/n went right back to sucking on him bringing him closer to his peak.

With both hands holding her head steady, he started moving his hips up into her mouth. Daniel couldn’t control himself anymore. It started off slow and steady. But quickly, it grew rough and fast. Y/n gagged a few times as he hit the back of her throat. Her hands were on his thighs bracing herself as he chased his orgasm.

“I’m close y/n, I’m so close,” Daniel groaned.

His hips were unrelenting as he fucked her face. The rhythm he had going turned erratic. After a couple of firm thrusts, he reached his orgasm coming in her mouth. A satisfied moan left his lips as his hands let go of her head. Y/n tried to swallow as much of his load as she could before bobbing her head up and down his dick a few more times for good measure.

“That felt so fucking good y/n,” Daniel said still trying to catch his breath. He stroked her hair lovingly, trying to tame the mess he created.

Y/n just pecked him on the lips before plopping back into the passenger's seat. After fixing themselves up, the couple walked hand in hand towards the paddock. They shared one last kiss before Daniel went off to prepare and suit up for qualifying.

Out there on the track, he was surprisingly the most relaxed he’s been in a long time. He was in tune with his car and making better decisions on the fly. His lap times decreasing with every lap he finished. At the end of the last round of qualifying, Daniel managed to secure the third starting position for tomorrow. The best starting position he’s had with McLaren so far.

Maybe that no-sex rule was doing more harm than good.

When he entered his McLaren motorhome he was immediately greeted with a big hug from Y/n. “You did so amazing out there Danny.”

“Reckon it had a little something to do with that mouth of yours aye,” Daniel said cheekily, running his hand along her back.

Y/n slapped his chest playfully. “Well, I mean at least now you know that stupid rule of yours was just bull shit.”

“Nah I’m not so sure,” Daniel started, before shooting her a wink. “I think we need to test it out again tomorrow before my race. See how well I perform then.”

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo imagine #formula 1 smut #formula 1 fanfiction

614 notes · View notes

rcksmith · 4 years ago

Text

Be good — Five Hargreeves.

Requests: “can i get car sex w/five and lots of praise kink tyyyy 💖💖”

“Hi! Could I request smut prompts 11, 22, and 29 as well as fluff 40 for five hargreeves? Ty!”

Smut prompts:

11. “She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but i bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips.”

22. “I’m not going to touch you unless you beg.”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

Fluff prompts:

40. “Come cuddle.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same energy and they prompts connect to a central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: explicit smut, degradation, dirty talk, bad words, fluff.

— — — — —

Part of Five thought it was absurd to feel this way, so wrong. You were young, so young, with an adventurous face in your 20s and bright eyes. Full of life and with such a loose spirit. You had that cool breeze with a free soul, a bright smile and, holy mother of God, you had a body that would be the reason why he would be banished from paradise.

There was something about your youthful innocence that clenched Five's teeth, that made him clench fists to control the urges to touch you at any time. This irritated him deeply.

You were so... so... sweet.

So fucking sweet. From your summer dresses, your delicate mouth, doe eyes and silky hair. You looked like a fucking princess and Five wanted to destroy you for that. You didn't look real. It looked like it came out of a fairy tale and it hit something very deep in Five. Oh, he was burning in a very dangerous fire.

Worst of all, you always knew what you were doing with him. And the way you pretend you don't make him even more angry.

Five remembers the exact moment when he threw in the towel, stopped fighting that insane desire and kissed you as if you were the last glass of water in the desert. And all of this was caused by a trigger so simple, ridiculous to be honest.

He gave up control one afternoon, when you were playing cards with Klaus in the living room, you had just won and got up, saying that you were going to get your phone that you were carrying in another room.

“It's hard to try to be mad at her, she's so cute.” Klaus said to Five, making a gesture in the air that represented pinching your cheeks.

If Five's mood hadn't been bad before, it was bad now. He rolled his eyes, hiding the expression on lips when he took a sip of coffee.

“You should learn from her, who knows" Klaus shrugged “She is so nice and you are... well, you are you.” Klaus pointed to Five's entire body, in a teasing of brother.

The deadly look that Five gave his brother made Klaus laugh even more. God, he was an idiot!

“Doesn't she look like those little movie fairies?”

“Is annoying.” Five rolled his eyes.

“It’s cute.” Klaus defended you “But you know, I think it's just superficial.”

That caught Five's attention, and Klaus realized and started to explain.

“She told me that she likes some more ... crude things, if you know what I mean.” Oh, Five understood “She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but i bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips.”

So Five was shipwrecked by Images of you. Tied to the bed, in white lingerie, your lips swollen from using that princess mouth of for something else. The giant wave invaded he mind like a ball of destruction, demolishing the entire barrier of self-control he had struggled to build. Brick by brick.

Five wanted to erase those images from his head, to exclude any universe in which you were on all fours for him, begging for more, with that fucking cute voice of yours.

But no matter how hard he tried, Klaus' words brought endless malicious situations that did not come out of Five’s mind.

So that's when he gave up. It was ridiculous to be controlling yourself like a puritan, like a stupid little boy who didn't know what to do.

And Five knew exactly what wanted to do to you.

Then, that afternoon, he disappeared in front of Klaus in the blue flash and reappeared in the room you were in. You must have said something, but Five didn't hear it, or didn't want to hear it. He just walked up to you, put his hands on your waist and kissed you with all the desire that the world had.

He barely touched you and you were already a modeling clay in he hands, sighing with strong touches, with raw kisses, purring like a kitten.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive." Five whispered against your mouth before he kissed you again.

Five Hargreeves thought that fucking you once would placate that sickly fire that was inside him. But it didn't placate, in fact, it was like pouring gasoline on the fire.

Everything inside him became wilder, more hungry, needy. And that was why he was there, fucking you hard in the car, on an abandoned street.

You moaned loudly, the top of your little red summer dress lowered, exposing your breasts that bounced as you slipped on Five's lap. The air was caustic and pungent, the two of you gasped, sighed, let out toxic and broken moans.

Their bodies clashed as if the world was going to end in that second, and Five did not have the strength to squeeze your hips, pulling you down and up with brutality, pushing him dick deeper into you with every bounce you gave.

“So fucking tight!” He snarled, lowering his left hand to your ass, lifting the fabric of the dress and slapping you.

You contained the cry, pressing your lips against him neck, the tears already burning in your eyes. Five don't slow down the ruthless pace, fucking you with the fury of an animal, as if I've never fucked you before.

“Such a good pussy!” He hand let go of your skin to wrap his fingers in your hair on the back of neck, pulling your face into his, making you receive the moans against your mouth. “I can't get enough of eating you! Good fucking slut!”

You could see the anger, desire, lust and wildness in he eyes. Five wanted to destroy you and, god, you loved it. You let go of that innocent and mysterious smile that left him even more out of control, and Five slapped you down again, but now on your left cheek.

“Don't look like that to me!” He pulled your chin up at him "Otherwise, you're going to get out of here without being able to walk right!"

But it was logical that you did not hear. Truth be told, you were a fucking tease. You liked the game, the hunt, the adrenaline. You liked to play with fire, and Five Hargreeves was not just a flame, but the entire fire.

“Do... do what D-daddy?” You used your best voice, seeing he anger and lust spilling out of he green eyes.

Then you gave that smile again, more neat, more painful and more innocent, and Five snarled like a wild animal that has just come out of captivity. He immediately took you off his lap, taking he dick out of you.

“Go to the fucking backseat. Now!”

You obeyed, going to the backseat and placing yourself on all fours, resting your chest on the seat while lifting your hips.

“You already know how to stand. You are is a little slut, really!” Then a loud slap came on your ass, and you bit your palm to keep from screaming.

“D...Daddy!” You whined.

Five pinned your hair up in a ponytail with he hand, pulling your body back until it was glued and glued to his.

"I'm not going to touch you unless you beg." He snarled in your ear, the hot temperature of he dick an inch from your needy center.

“Please!” You cried “I'm go to be b-good! I promise, daddy!”

“Beg!” One more slap.

“Please!” You rummaged your hips, trying to make any contact. “Please!”

Then Five entered you. Strong, rough, badly and aggressive. He barely gave you time to moan before he started hitting your fragile walls, flooding your eyes with tears that flowed. It was too much stimulation, too much strength, too much desire that made your body want to scream. You and Five had a security password, but you were too horny to want to use it because of the pain.

“So fucking good tis pussy!” Five kept his hand firmly in your hair and the other on your hips, pulling you to his dick. “You have to be a desperate slut to give it to me in the car, don't you?” another slap “Such a needy little slut.”

“Yes, d-daddy!”

Then he continued, relentless. You turned your face to see him, and that was even more of a discharge of electricity between your legs.

Five's coal-black hair was sweaty, clinging to his forehead, with a few droplets running down his firm face. He was without a suit, his shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up, exposing his vein-streaked arms, marking the white skin that was covered with a layer of sweat mist.

His green eyes contained all the wildness, fury and lust in the world. He looked like an angry young god. And that took you to the apex.

Five let out a short, husky, sneering laugh at how fast you always came for him, and he increased his movements until he poured the hot liquid as deep as possible into you.

“Your pussy is so good.” He whispered in your ear, slowing you two heartbeat with a few kisses on your shoulder.

Five pulled the suit that was lying on the floor of the car, placing it under you and turning you on top of the cloth, so that the cum dripped on the suit instead of the seat. He watched in lust as the cum poured out of you.

Five pulled the air against his teeth, not controlling himself and leaning towards you, sticking your lips together in an angry kiss.

“You are so hot." You smirked at his comment.

“Where were we even going?” You laughed.

"Home."

You loved how he used the word "home" with you. As if it were the home of the two of you.

“Take a shower and have dinner?” Five nodded, removing a lock of his hair from his face. "And after... we are come cuddle?”

He laughed, shrugging and sticking his lips to yours again.

“If that is going to make you stop talking. Of course, dear.” He grunted playfully on your lips, and you laughed.

God, you loved that man.

1K notes · View notes

starryhyuck · 4 years ago

Text

mark! (m)

pairing: dom!mark x sub!reader x dom!yuta

words: 2.2k+

summary: mark is scared of stepping out of his comfort zone with you. therefore, you enlist yuta’s help to get your boyfriend a little more comfortable.

genre: smut

warnings: threesome (kind of), anal sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, breeding kink

“I don’t think we should be doing this.”

You sigh. “Mark, stop being such a scaredy cat.”

The frown on his face is positively adorable. You want to squeeze his cheeks so badly. “I’m not a scaredy cat!” He protests, but it only makes him look more soft.

You giggle and press a kiss to his lips. “Whatever you say. Besides, Yuta won’t be back for a while. I don’t know why you’re so scared.”

“I’m not scared!” He argues again, eyebrows furrowing together in the most adorable way. “I just- this is Yuta’s bed. It’s kind of impolite to be doing anything on a place where he sleeps.”

You sigh. “Mark, I think we both know what kind of a person Yuta is. I’m pretty sure he would do the exact same thing on your bed.”

His nose scrunches as the thought passes through him.

“Ew. I didn’t need that visual.”

You flop down on Yuta’s comforter before bringing Mark with you. He’s still very reluctant, despite connecting your lips together. You try easing him up, hands moving over his shoulders as you pull him closer and closer.

Your sex life with Mark was always more than satisfying, but he was constantly scared to take risks. Being an exhibitionist yourself and considering how shy Mark could get, it was really difficult to get your boyfriend to even hold your hand in front of the other members, let alone kiss you. You’ve tried on more than one occasion to suck him off at the dinner table, but he was always too on edge that someone would walk in.

To combat your curiosity, you enlisted Yuta’s help.

Your eyes carefully watch the door as Mark’s tongue explores your mouth. Yuta stares through the small opening, watching you with a heavy glare.

You giggle into the kiss and Mark eases up a little at the sound. Your fingers dance around his neck as you pull him closer and closer, observing as Yuta casually walks into the room. Mark is too lost in you to notice.

After letting you make out for a few more minutes, Yuta finally clears his throat. You swear Mark jumps five feet in the air and scrambles away from you. His whole face is flushed pink at the sight of Yuta, quickly stuttering to provide an excuse.

Yuta raises an eyebrow. “And what were you two doing exactly?”

You blink innocently. “What do you mean?”

He smirks at your act. You’re still sprawled out on his bed, hair tangled from Mark’s fingers messily running through it. Yuta wonders how pretty you would look with his cock sliding in your mouth, beautiful lips eager to taste him. He leans closer to your frame, ignoring Mark’s surprise at his older member’s proximity to his girlfriend.

“I mean you and Mark trying to fuck on my bed.”

“W-We’re sorry, Y-Yuta!” Mark frantically says. “W-We just- I just-“

Yuta chuckles, and the deep sound shoots straight to your core.

“It’s fine, Mark. You weren’t putting on much of a show anyways. Why haven’t you touched her?”

Mark looks like his brain is going on overdrive. “W-What?”

Yuta’s fingers graze over your exposed thigh. He picked out the skirt you were wearing for this occasion, knowing it would make Mark incredibly flustered.

“Why haven’t you touched her? That’s what she wants, isn’t it?”

You quickly nod. “It’s what I want. Touch me, Yuta, please.”

Yuta grins, his eyes darting back to Mark’s. “Can I, Mark?”

You think your boyfriend is really broken. He’s nervously twitching, shaking his head as he tries to gather his thoughts. You decide to give him a little break.

“I thought Yuta could help us out a little, Mark. I asked him to come so we can have more fun.”

Yuta nods. “If you’re uncomfortable, Mark, I can leave.”

The silence in the air is deafening. Mark finally clears his throat. “Can you show m-me how you do it?”

Yuta smirks. “Do what, exactly?”

The blush fully appears on Mark’s cheeks again. “Um, how you eat her out.”

Your eyes widen. You were definitely not expecting him to say that. Yuta’s smirk widens at the request.

“Definitely. Sit down and watch.”

Yuta’s staring at your clothed core in no time, playing with the hem of your skirt. He chuckles when he sees your choice of underwear.

“Lace,” he hums playfully, snapping the elastic against your skin as you squeak. “Do you always wear such pretty panties for Mark?”

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “I have prettier ones in his top drawer.”

“I’d love to see them some time, doll.”

You eagerly watch as Yuta pulls down your panties, making a show as his hands slowly caress your thighs. He throws the pair of red lace to Mark, who easily catches it and groans. Yuta yanks up your skirt so he can fully gaze at your exposed cunt.

He chuckles. “You should be nicer to her, Mark. She’s got such a pretty pussy.”

You moan when his fingers play with your folds, goosebumps spreading across your skin. You quickly learn that Yuta is a tease, patient as he touches you.

“Please, Yuta,” you beg, wanting him to do something already.

His smile appears again. “What is it, doll? What do you need?”

“Need your mouth,” you whine. “And your fingers.”

You’re already turning into a blubbering mess. Mark, on the other hand, could not be more nervous. He finds this whole situation incredibly arousing, but also dangerously intimidating. He wonders if Yuta will be better than him, and if you’ll like Yuta way more than you like him. All thoughts are thrown out the window when Yuta’s tongue takes a lick up your slit. Your moans shoot straight to Mark’s hardened cock, and Mark has no doubt in his mind that he could cum in his pants right now.

He takes silent notes as Yuta teases you, never fully giving you what you want and watching as you continue to beg for him. Yuta slips a finger into your hole and you cry out, your body reacting to every single touch.

Yuta’s gaze returns to Mark. “See? She likes it when you don’t go too fast. Draw it out, make her beg.”

Mark swallows at the sudden lessons. He’s always been really quick with you, never letting you wait this long.

“Yuta, please, please,” you continue to whimper, hands reaching for him. Yuta is quick to silence you, pinning your arms to your sides.

“Be a good girl and I’ll reward you. No touching until I say so.”

You nod in submission. Mark’s eyes zero in on Yuta’s tongue exploring your folds, finger slowly pushing in and out of your weeping pussy. Mark swears he’s never heard you this wet before, the squelch of Yuta’s finger entering you echoing throughout the room. When Yuta adds a second finger, you almost lose it.

“Please please, Yuta, I want to cum. Please let me cum,” you cry.

“That’s up to Mark,” he states, and the younger boy freezes. “Can she cum, Mark?”

Your eyes are glistening with tears as you stare at your boyfriend. You whimper when Yuta furiously begins eating you out, your orgasm dangerously approaching.

“Wait, wait, wait-“

“Give her the signal, Mark,” Yuta instructs, attacking your pussy with his tongue and fingers.

Mark waits until you’re right on the edge, seconds away from sobbing. He walks over and leans down until he’s whispering in your ear.

“Cum, pretty girl.”

You fall apart, clutching your boyfriend’s arm as you clench around Yuta’s fingers. He helps you ride out your high, licking up any remnants of your orgasm.

You blearily come to your senses after that mind numbing climax, Yuta and Mark discussing quietly. There’s a faint ringing sound in your ears until Mark cups your cheeks.

“Okay?”

You giggle. “Okay.”

He laughs at your delirious state.

“Does she always get like that?” Yuta questions.

“Only when it’s really good,” he replies. His focus turns back to you. “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?”

You giggle again. “Okay.”

He smiles fondly at you, and butterflies swell in your chest like they always do when Mark smiles at you like that.

“Make it rough,” Yuta chimes in. “I want to see her really cry.”

You’re flipped onto your stomach in no time, Mark’s fingers threading your ass. Yuta’s taken a seat not far from the bed, switching roles with Mark as he watches you this time. Mark’s thumb gently grazes over your other hole and you gasp.

Yuta’s voice is full of curiosity. “She likes it there?”

“Sometimes.” He pauses before making a decision. “Can I fuck you here, baby?”

“Yes, Mark, please.”

You can practically hear his grin. “Okay.”

Yuta tosses him the bottle of lube he keeps in his nightstand, and Mark quickly preps you. You moan when he fingers you, scissoring and stretching you to make sure you’re ready to take him.

You and Mark rarely do anal, mostly because he’s always afraid of hurting you. You know now, though, that he wants to put on a good show for Yuta.

Once you’re prepped enough, you feel the tip of his cock circling your hole. You both groan when he sinks the tip in. Unlike the other times, Mark doesn’t wait for you to adjust. He pushes into you roughly.

You cry at the intrusion, already feeling the first batch of tears painting your cheeks. Around this time, Mark usually pulls out and apologizes, checking if you’re okay. He’s turned into a completely different person in front of Yuta.

You grip the sheets as Mark relentlessly pounds into you, stretching you harder than he has before. It isn’t painful at all because even though Mark is rough with you, he always knows how to make you feel good.

You’re incoherently blubbering for him. “Y-Yes, feels so good. Feels s-so good, baby. Such a big cock inside my small little hole. So good, so good.”

Mark grunts, fingers tangling into your hair again. “Yeah? You like it when I fuck your tight little hole? You like making a show for Yuta?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you sob.

You can barely make out Yuta’s figure as he grows closer to you, wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

“Aren’t you such a pretty sight? Really selfish of Mark to keep you all to himself.”

Mark pinches your clit and you scream, diving headfirst into your second orgasm. Mark hisses as you clench even harder around him, pulling you as close as possible before shooting his cum deep inside you. You both release little moans as you recover.

Yuta laughs when you both are done. You swear you could pass out right now and sleep for at least twenty four hours straight.

The ringing sound echoes in your ears again as Mark and Yuta quietly converse once more. You whimper when Mark pulls out of you, his cum dripping down your thigh.

“Baby?” Mark’s voice pulls you out of your reverie. “Yuta wants to ask you something.”

You blink as Mark gently flips you on your back again. Yuta’s eyes grow darker.

“Are you on the pill?”

You nod.

“Can I try something?”

You nod again.

Mark leaves you to go get cleaned up and you observe as Yuta pulls his cock out, tip leaking and begging for attention. He runs his hand up and down his shaft for a few times before lining up with your pussy.

“Can I?”

You nod again, feeling too tired to form words. You gasp when Yuta pushes in, his cock much thicker than Mark’s.

“Fuck,” he curses, eyes focusing on how his cock disappears into your cunt. “So fucking perfect.”

He builds up a steady rhythm, and you finally understand what he wanted to try when he’s balls deep inside of you.

“Gonna breed you, doll. Gonna stuff my cum into your cunt until you’re dripping. Would you like that? Walking around with cum dripping out of both of your holes?”

You openly cry at his filthy words, clenching harder around him.

“Oh, pretty doll likes that. You think I’d never notice how many times you’ve tried to get Mark to fuck you while we’re eating dinner? How many times you’ve sat on his lap in the dressing rooms and tried to get him to fuck you in front of us? Naughtily little slut.”

“Yuta, Yuta,” you gasp, your third orgasm of the night building. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“Want to cum? Why don’t you cum for me then? Show Mark why he should be more protective of his girl.”

You follow his command, seeing white as you cum again. Yuta’s right behind you, still hissing dirty confessions.

“Always wondered what it was like to see you stuffed full of cum. Pretty little girl, just waiting to be bred all the time. Practically made to take cock.”

He growls and with a few more snaps of his hips, he shoots his cum deep inside you. You whine as his warmth fills you, Mark’s cum still leaking out of your other hole.

You feel absolutely used when Yuta pulls away from you. You didn’t even notice Mark had entered the room again until he starts cleaning you up. You smile sleepily at him.

“I hope that was okay.”

He presses a kiss to your lips. “More than okay. Get some rest, I’ll clean you up.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As you slowly drift off to sleep, you faintly hear Yuta say, “We should do that again, I could die a happy man in your girlfriend’s cunt.”

#nct smut #mark lee smut #mark #yuta smut #yuta

1K notes · View notes

delicrieux · 4 years ago

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 "𝚘𝚑"

PART 8: CAT BOYS

... it’s late into the night and y/n is streaming with one of her new friends, sykkuno. running on caffeine and redbull is apparently not enough because she falls asleep on his shoulder 45 minutes into their cyberpunk gameplay. at that exact moment, twitter goes up in flames.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (because i was threatened by thirsty anons) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 1.8k author’s note: here it is...what yall been asking for. literally had to add a new part for this but i loved this idea sm i couldnt just nOT NOT do it. i tried writing this with the same energy as the smau lmao so expect chaos as always. hope you enjoy it and as always lmk what u think! hopefully yall wont go too feral, but tbh thats prolly too much to ask for xx EDIT: srr for the fucky format tumbler dot com is being lame

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Such a back and forth continues for the better part of the day as you get ready. Corpse only whines a bit when you forget to text him back - you are packing, and your prestigious cat ears you bought from Amazon for 10$ deserve exquisite care - which only fuels your seemingly bottomless hunger for mischief, leading to you sneakily ignoring him more. When your phone lights up with a message, you giggle, giddy with excitement. Your laughter only gets louder and more erratic, to the point where Rae had busted down your door and threw her Hello Kitty plush at you - one you’d gotten her, mind you! - and told you to just “Shut the fuck up!”

Ungrateful. You know not everyone can appreciate your sense of humor, or stand your hyena like cackle, but that was uncalled for and you told her as much. Noting the mess your room is in (more than usual, that’s for certain), she leans onto the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest, pretty brown eyes twinkling curiously, “Where you off to?”

“So I had this idea-” You start, but are promptly shut down with a raise of her palm.

“Already know it’s a bad one.”

Insulted, and hurt, you clutch your heart. As if she had not mocked you enough today, “Rae...The hell, that’s so mean...” You mutter, face scrunching into a soft frown, “I only wanted to tell you what me and Syk thought of.”

“Oh?” Intrigued, she raises a brow, “Continue.”

“Gee, thanks for letting me this time.” You mumble, rolling your eyes, “So. We thought we’d stream together. The catch? In the same room! We’ll be playing Cyberpunk. Gotta cash in while the hype is still up.” You add, making her snort, “And, ya know, the whole cat boy business...We’ll be wearing matching cat ears. Admit it, I’m a genius.”

She’s quiet for a moment, mulling over your words; you can practically see the gears in her head turning. She glances around the room, then briefly at you, strangely apprehensive. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Well, that is definitely not what you expected her to say. You figured it’d be more along the lines of you’d be one ugly cat. “Huh?” Is all you manage to stutter, “What do you mean?”

She gives you a look, one all people give when something is so plainly obvious, “Y/n. You do know the stans will go wild, right? And you do remember our conversation involving Corp-”

“Nope!” You exclaim cheerily with a bright smile to match. You don’t want to think about that. The relationship between you and Corpse is strictly platonic, and besides, seeing Twitter loosing their shit is always funny, and you never miss an opportunity to mess with your fans. Sykkuno is also a good friend, albeit a new one. This supposed flirting from Corpse’s end Rae deduced was nothing more than her projecting her feelings onto the situation. She always liked shoujo anime and was probably thinking one was happening right in front of her. Not a chance. Corpse was just being a friendly crackhead. Your energies mesh beautifully.

Like, beautifully in a strictly friend way. Absolutely nothing more than that.

She gives up, naturally, arguing with a wall would be more productive than arguing with you. You’re such a (Zodiac sign).

“Well,” She mumbles, ticking her head to the side, leaning off of the door frame and turning to leave, “Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

Your grin melts as soon as she leaves. Glancing at your bag, you shove your last necessities in with newfound hesitance.

Nothing bad will happen, right?

...Right?

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

It is well past the generally set “appropriate” time to hang out, but since quarantine, what is appropriate anymore anyway? You’ve never been in Sykkuno’s apartment, but now that you’re here it’s...strangely him. Every corner seems tailored to his specific requirements. It’s cozy, and pleasantly warm - it’s a bit chilly in LA, as surprising as that is.

He’s even shyer than you remember him being. And a whole lot more awkward, but in an endearing way, a way that makes you want to laugh and try to reassure him that it’s just you and he has nothing to worry about. While you hung out only once, the history you share is rich and tender. From him following you on Twitter and subsequently prematurely ending your stream, to kidnapping a stray cat affectionately named Juan. His long lost brother, Juan (no the Second, just Juan), lives in your Minecraft server.

His stream room is sadly bare. There’s an appalling lack of merch or fairy lights. Not even led-lights. It’s a good thing you brought your own. As you try to decided which color would be best - his signature lime green, reminiscent of his adorable Among Us astronaut, or, perhaps, mischievous violet? - he boots the game and tweets out a quick “streaming with y/n in ten mins! come one come all!”

“You should probably tell your fans, too.” He mumbles, looking somewhere above your shoulder. You settle with cherry blossom pink. Glancing at him, you shrug.

“Ah, do it for me, please?”

“Oh!” He hiccups, “Uhm, I wouldn’t want to pry and I don’t know your password and-”

“It doesn’t have a password.” You had removed it, knowing something like this would happen. Bless your foresight, you did not want him to know it was demonspiitinmymouth. Before he could protest further, you rush to the nearest mirror to put on your cat ears and make sure they aren’t crooked. You look absolutely adorable. The cat boys in your dms will go feral. Hell, you might just go feral looking at yourself! Sykkuno is not ready. No one is. This will be a stream to remember.

When you return (with flourish of course), he’s anxiously fidgeting by his computer, his own little cat ears, one’s he wore for the Halloween stream, peaking out from his silky brown hair. You have to suppress a squeal. When he catches you gaze he gives the kindest, sweetest little smile.

“They, uh--” He points at you, then decides it’s rude to point, bringing his hand back to his lap, then clutching his mouse, lastly releasing a sound stuck between a chuckle and a wheeze, “suit you, uhm, a lot!” He finishes with a resolute nod, quickly spinning in his chair and away from you.

This is the reaction you desired. All is going according to plan. Is this what God feels like? If not, then you pity her. She’s missing out.

Taking a seat next to him - he had been gracious enough to haul you a spare chair from the kitchen - you draw closer, and he, instinctively, shrinks away with another nervous chuckle.

“You have, uhm... I-I didn’t look!” He quickly chimes. You raise a brow, “Uhm, unopened messages? From Corpse? He texted you when I was tweeting! I didn’t mean to look, I’m sorry-”

Instantly, you recall the famous vine with the scandalous “daddy chill” line, though refrain from saying it aloud. You love havoc, but you’re not evil (Rae would ardently disagree with you, though). Instead, you just shrug, “’S fine, don’t worry. I’ll text him back later. Let’s start?”

He nods, but doesn’t look at you. Granted, you don’t think he glanced at you even once since you returned, “...Okay. Ready?”

“Ready!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You’re much too immersed into the game and Sykkuno’s twitch chat to even check what’s happening on Twitter, but your estimated guess is that everyone’s going crazy. The stream chat is unruly as well, but missing the signature Twitter spark. Most of the chaos is bravely lead by your fans. Sykkuno’s, much like the man himself, are too nice to scream so unabashedly.

Perhaps you excitement had been a bit too taxing, perhaps drinking 5 coffees and 2 energy drinks today and not enough water are to blame for the sudden drowsiness you’re feeling, but you can’t focus on the swimming chat or the abundance of cut-scenes at the starting point of the game. You steadily draw nearer and he, more composed in front of his audience, doesn’t react. About ten more minutes of hoovering by his shoulder and muttering soft commentary, and you feel yourself slipping.

The last coherent thought you have is a few choice words directed at caffeine itself for having the opposite effect of you at the worst time possible.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You float in oblivion for perhaps ten minutes at best. Once you awake with a startle, you shower Sykkuno in shy apologies and he quickly reassures you that it’s fine and that he didn’t mind at all!

“Though,” He adds after a thoughtful pause, “not sure if it was very, uh, comfortable?”

His stream chat spams uwu and variations of similar kind. The stream continues for a few more hours before the both of you wish everyone a good night.

While you planned on wreaking absolute havoc, this sudden falling asleep was unexpected. You pondered the consequences of such an innocent, unplanned act whilst ubering home, fearing to check your phone which by now was blowing up with not only Twitter notifications but also Rae’s angry messages that vaguely read “what the fuck y/n”. Within the past two hours she had left 57 messages on all platforms collectively, including 7 calls.

Corpse’s last text was over three hours ago.

Now that’s strange. Worry festers quickly. Briefly glancing at your surroundings - the pretty glimmer of passing street lights, neon signs, familiar buildings - you decide that it’s time to check what kind of nuclear explosion you’ve caused.

Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach as you scroll past the hundreds of tweets and mentions. Scan through Rae’s messages.

You had failed to prepare ahead. Every explosion of such kind is followed by nuclear winter. And Corpse’s lack of messages feels especially cold.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Not you smiling like a fucking idiot reading his last message! You shrink into the backseat, afraid the driver will accidentally look into the rear-view mirror and see you a bit too happy before asking questions. Good news? Yeah, but it’s not like it’s his any beeswax! In the words of Rihanna, just shut up and drive.

This argument had not yet happened, but you’re preparing, just in case.

As you think up of potential scenarios, your eyes drill into Corpse’s goodnight text. You’ve looked at it enough. Time to turn the phone screen off. Leave the app, at the very least. When the screen dims you instantly press on it to wake it up. This is embarrassing. Maybe the deadly amount of caffeine really did mess you up, big time. Your heart races in your chest, painfully almost. You feel a bit sick. Worst of all, you can’t stop smiling.

A notification from Rae makes you snap out of it. Ah, one more demon to deal with.

However, before you talk to her, you really need to tell Twitter that you’re not with Sykkuno. And apologize to Sykkuno as well.

At least Corpse doesn’t hate you.

Fucking hell, just exit the chat you idiot!

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

2K notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 3 years ago

Text

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

---------------

It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib. “Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he’s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”

#disaster lineage #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #jango fett #jaster mereel #time travel #mandalore #tatooine #de aging #babies #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies

629 notes · View notes