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#the beginning of this book i'm reading reminded me so much of the beginning of the power of three
vitaminseetarot · 3 days
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Poll PAC: What Your Next Birthday Celebration Will Be Like 🎂🎉🎁
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Sup y'all, welcome back to another PAC reading. This time I'm doing a special 1 year/birthday/poll topic of choice themed pick a card! This is also a special one as VitaminSee now has 300 followers! Holy crap thank you for your support everyone! I haven't been able to get on Tumblr for a while, so I apologize if it seems like I've dropped from the aether. Life is starting to enter its hectic phase right now! Thank you so much for your patience. I'm waiting for life things to straighten out (lol as if life ever does) before I go ahead and offer some basic paid readings, which I hope to do in May.
This topic is for the next birthday you have coming up, whether that's tomorrow or next year. For my selection, I was recently lucky to have found the Wild Wisdom Companion book among a vast pile of discounted books. It's based on the Wheel of the Year. I thought this deck was perfect for making piles themed around the progression of the year and how our birthdays respond to the passage of the seasons. Pick whichever one of the Spring themed card you like most down below:
Pile 1 - The Unfurling 🌱 Pile 2 - The Wind 🕊 Pile 3 - The Door 🗝 Pile 4 - The Alchemist 🍾
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Pile 1 - The Unfurling
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Sagittarius - Expand, Level Up, Shadow, Isolation; XVII Star, 3 of Cups, XXI World, Ace of Wands, 5 of Cups
Hello, pile 1! Your birthday is going to be the start of great expansion. Your first three oracle cards spell it out so clearly! Sagittarius is all about shooting for seemingly farfetched goals and striking the target anyway. There is so much growth going on in your pile. You're probably anticipating your next chapter to be one of reaching beyond the horizon and feeling ready to do so. Ideas or wishes that seemed impossible may be coming closer to being within your grasp. Your life is ready to take it up a notch immediately after your next birthday, where things may begin to feel like they're accelerating. Don't worry about the turbulence, it's all a part of the movement. Breaking out of your comfort zone may feel scary, but something about your next birthday will set off a chain of events that will propel you to a new phase of life.
I have a feeling that many who choose this pile will be in a transitory stage of life, like you're getting ready to start college or a new job around your birthday. It's not just another year older, this next one will be extra meaningful in terms of receiving something you've been longing for in quite some time. It's something you've been greatly eager to begin. I don't any sense that you'll be looking back too much once you go forward, since you'll be thrust rather quickly in your next chapter.
But it's still okay if you're experiencing anxiety over it, even if it's something you've really wanted. Anxiety, doubt, and fear are not necessarily indicators that something isn't right for you. It's normal to get cold feet in this context. A sprout breaking from its seed shell is no small feat; it requires a great amount of momentum and motivation. Congratulate yourself for having come this far. Let your birthday be a chance to celebrate this. Give yourself the opportunity to commemorate with friends, if they wanna help give you a birthday to remember then let them. They may feel the vibe as much as you will on that day. Don't be afraid to take that day trip out to a new place you've never seen.
What's interesting about the Isolation card is that it shows two cups. There is meanwhile a Friendship card in this deck with only one cup. So I don't know if the words were swapped with the images or what, but the sense I get is that you will very likely be in good company during your birthday. They may want to take you out dancing (the Ace of Wands is reminding me of disco lights). However, even in the midst of the event, you may feel the urge to hide away from the crowd. I'm picturing someone stepping out of a house during a party. You may need to catch your breath at times in order to process the emotions you're experiencing, as you have a lot of energetic, lit up cards just before the five of cups.
Again, getting in dark negative moods is normal when you're facing a big new stage is not indicative that things will go wrong if it's something you know you're looking forward to. If you end up spending most of the day with friends, find some space to be at peace by yourself so you can even out your feelings. These intense moods will come and go on their own, so make sure to stay balanced (and not too overly caffeinated lol) on your birthday.
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Pile 2 - The Wind 🕊
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Third House - Communication, A New Day, Ball Pits, Family; 10 of Swords, 5 of Cups, III Empress, Knight of Pentacles, 4 of Cups
How's it going pile 2? I couldn't help but notice you have two pairs of swallows in your reading. Birds may have some significance for you, maybe you'll go birdwatching or even get a pet bird. For a small number of you, the birthday could involve a plane flight out of home for a quick trip. Could you be visiting family members? There's a lot of communication going on, for sure. Even if you're not traveling out by flight, you may have family members show up to take you out somewhere. They may be insistent on seeing you, talking to you, and spending time with you. The phone might blow up first thing in the morning with notifications and voicemail.
But I'm seeing a lot of hesitance in your tarot cards. You may be feeling tired or burned out and not necessarily in the mood to celebrate. The previous year was a doozy for you so perhaps catching up on sleep is more of your priority. Ever get the feeling of wanting to sleep because life is overwhelmed and you're like, "I give up (for now)?" and call it a day? You need to give yourself a chance to recuperate around your birthday, before during and after. Have a break so you can fully recover and receive all that the coming year has to offer you.
That means letting loved ones in your life, be they bio family or chosen family, understand that you'd rather have a small get together or a chance to rest every now and then if you're invited out somewhere. If you choose to go out, there's nothing wrong with taking it slow and easy, or doing something casual like grabbing some ice cream and sitting by the riverside to ponder the next year. Communicate your feelings instead of bottling them up in an attempt to keep up with everybody else. Don't let anyone convince you of how you should celebrate, it's your day your rules!
Others of you who have a little more energy, a little more of that "last year sucks, I need to go out and do something fun to sweat it off!", I feel like the ball is emphasized here with Knight of Pentacles beneath Ball Pits. Some of you looking for more action and noise may choose to go to a ball game, or spend time at the arcade playing pinball with friends. It could even be mini golf. Whether you are the low energy (calm) or high energy (excited) seeking type, getting the chance to have some fun is important, as long as it feels right for you.
This is the pile most likely to get some kind of surprise, be that a party (high energy) or a surprise gift (low energy). There will be a sense of being pampered. Some of you may get a larger number of gifts than you may have expected. You may receive a very beautiful gift, something you may treasure for a long time. Whatever it may be, allow yourself to thoroughly enjoy it and express that joy. Let yourself embrace gratitude, being mindful of what you have now regardless of how your last year has been and how your next year will be. For your next birthday, try to focus on the present (in both meanings).
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Pile 3 - The Door 🗝
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South Node - Past, Let Your Light Shine, Bubble Gum, Winter; Ace of Cups, 9 of Swords, 3 of Pentacles, XIX Sun, Page of Wands
Hey pile 3! For your next birthday, I'm definitely seeing you go outside to celebrate. There may be an actual party held outdoors, or you might choose to go out somewhere. I'm seeing parks, possibly national parks or natural trails. I'm getting the feeling of warm sunshine, the weather will likely cooperate perfectly on your day. You could be cruising through town, going from store to store (the 3 of pentacles reminds me of a mall here). Your birthday feels expansive and adventurous, ready for something new.
A small number of you may wish to engage a little bit in the spotlight, or you may be placed into a position of receiving more attention on this day. If you wish to, your birthday would be a great day to showcase your talents or passions, since I'm picking up a bit of Leo energy in this pile. With lips in Bubble Gum, you could be giving a speech? I'm picturing an actual toast, if you feel the strong urge to speak out then do so, let yourself be heard. I'm also seeing people sing for you at restaurants, so if that isn't your style, it's best to find a place to eat that doesn't do that sort of thing.
This birthday could be like your own version of a New Year's Eve celebration. Some of you may actually be born in the winter or around New Year's, so holidays and birthdays could tie in together. You're wanting your birthday to stand out amidst the traditional festivities (I've known many people born around Christmas who hate having their birthday gifts thrown under the tree, so you're not alone in that frustration!). You may get the idea of doing something out of the ordinary. Let yourself take the spotlight--it's your special occasion!
There's a message in your pile of letting old things go as you step into a new age. Old things from the year prior may still be sticking onto you, old issues from unresolved matters may pop up. They could be on the more practical side, like needing to sign something or finish a task on time. Be ready to step into the future unafraid--now is the time to shed the baggage. Your birthday can be the fresh start to a bright new trip around the sun, but you gotta give yourself that chance. If something needs to be resolved, and you got the time, tie up your loose ends beforehand so it's not weighing on you as you celebrate.
Your birthday is a threshold to an exciting new time for you. It may be like a breath of fresh air. I keep hearing "refreshed" and "invigorated", so this may be how you feel at the end of your birthday. You may do something that makes you think, "huh, why don't I do this more often?" That could be the key for you to step into something brand new. Will spending time with your friends refresh you, or going to a concert and discovering a new band that you will fall in love with as it warms up the show? Or may you desire to spend more time out in nature? Lean into what lights you up, listen to what engages you, and move from there.
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Pile 4 - The Alchemist 🍾
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Imum Coeli - Roots, Snow Day, Forest, Transformation; 3 of Cups, 6 of Cups, Ace of Swords, XII Hanged Man, 8 of Swords
What's up, pile 4? Your birthday is looking to be the absolute warmest and coziest out of all the piles. Many of you may identify strongly with introversion. I'm sensing a lot of you have your birthday around autumn or the cooler times of the year when most people are ready to bundle up in blankets or sit by the wood stove while awaiting the first signs of frost. Many of you may get a lucky chance to stay at home instead of needing to work or go to school, so you'll have the day off to plan out what you want to do. Others of you may desire to take time off if you have the chance to, I would go for it especially if you've been feeling the need to rest. You may live near trees or desire to be out in nature as a way to kick back.
I'm seeing someone invite a few friends over to watch old reruns of favorite shows while baking. It could be a gathering of closest friends, I'm not getting the sense that it'll be a big to-do bash. This day will be short, sweet, and simple. It's a good day for doing hobbies or spending time indulging in the gifts you were given. Some of you may rather spend time with family or those you live with instead of inviting people over. You and your family may share a special way of celebrating birthdays, I don't know of any birthday specific cultural traditions from the top of my head but you may have special rituals unique to you and your family. Either way, I get that you'll have a modest celebration that's nevertheless full of camaraderie and relaxing activities.
The description for the Alchemist card says "Allow Transformation", and you have another Transformation card. You may be doing a lot of transmuting on the inside, working through old stubborn patterns and limiting beliefs around this time. I'm seeing the ball of flame near the snow as if you're melting old self-sabotaging blockages away to make room for more growth in your coming year. This flame, this transmuting energy, is making way for the new to arrive.
The Hanged Man being tangled up in vines beneath a forest makes me think that you've been hung up on something that needs to be let go. You must prune in order to effectively grow. Too much in a small space can lead to cramming and confusion. You must deal with the thoughts tangling themselves up in your mind before cultivating the thoughts you want in their place. Changes may happen slowly on the outside, but when certain patterns are fully cleared out things can really take off.
So, for example, let's say you've wanted to sign up for a ceramics workshop for your birthday, or spend the day cleaning house (if you happen to find cleaning therapeutic). To do so, you'll need to not only free up your schedule, but free your mind of thoughts trying to convince you that you can't learn or can't clean. Perhaps it's difficult to not see the forest as just a bundle of trees. But a forest is more than trees, it's an entire system that supports itself in a perpetual cycle. Don't fill up your days with too many tasks, especially on your birthday. Pace the day with both the things you want to do and the things you have to do. The time around birthday will show you how to integrate the best of both worlds. We can have cake and eat it too, it's just a matter of pacing and doing things one at a time.
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This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.
2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™
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expelliarmus · 2 months
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spenceobsessed · 2 months
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part 1
this is a part 2 to another fic i did, but can be read as a stand alone!
post!prison reid x fem!reader
genre: enemies to lovers, smut with a plot
summary: after being put on a case with you, spencer realizes he might not hate you as much as he thought.
MDNI 18+
unfortunately, when working for the bau, having time off is very rare. you and spencer were harshly reminded of this. right after your successful arrest of the unsub at the nightclub, you were immediately put on a plane, incredibly sexually frustrated, on your way to another case.
you and spencer had (luckily or unluckily) ended up next to each other on a plane ride to the middle of nowhere in wisconsin. there had been a string of murders in the small town of hayward. four were dead and the unsubs rate of death was accelerating.
the flight was a little under six hours. just sitting next to spencer was excruciating.
the rest of the team had fallen asleep and although you attempted to sleep, you were simply just too horny. not being able to finish earlier, mixed with sheer anticipation had taken over you. you tossed and turned in your seat, a blanket pulled up to your chest. you open your eyes to look at spencer who had a book in his hands, his eyes on you.
you smile softly, sitting upright to get a better look at the handsome man.
“are you okay?" he asks softly, his kind voice still new for you. you nod, watching as he sets his book down over his crotch. hes still hard.
"i'm okay." you respond with a smile. "just, y'know..." you trail off trying to put your thoughts into words.
he laughs softly, completely understanding what you mean. "earlier.” he finishes your sentence with a smirk on his face.
“well i would ask how you feel about ‘earlier’, dr. reid,” you begin, your had moving from the armrest to rub against his chest. “but i can already tell.” you move your had quickly down his chest and hover your hand over his obviously hard cock in his pants. he gasps softly as you use one finger to trace the shape of him.
“fuck.” he groans, the use of a curse word throwing you off (and turning you on). “please.” he begs as you push softly on his cock, feeling a wet spot from precum already forming.
“use your words.” you demand, kindly, your dominance going straight to his dick. spencer liked being dominant, which he most definitely was going to be when the plane fucking lands, but right now he wanted to be taken care of. he needed to be taken care of.
“touch me.” he says simply as you begin to undo his belt quietly.
“ok, pretty boy, but i’m going to need you to keep quiet, can you do that?” you reply, reaching your hand into his underwear, pulling his hard cock out. he was huge, bigger than you would’ve guessed, especially for a relatively skinny guy. his tip was red and angry, begging for your attention.
“yes.” he says breathlessly, watching you hold his cock. you smile, throwing your blanket over his lap and over your arm, deciding that sucking him off would make too much noise.
you use your pointer finger to spread his precum over the tip of his cock, eliciting a muffled groan from the man.
you begin to move your hand down his cock, causing spencer to cover his mouth with his hand. his pupils were blown and his chest rising and falling fast. it was an amazing sight.
you felt yourself getting wet as your hand began to move faster on his cock.
“this feels so good.” he says, his praise only fueling your desire. the man bites back a moan just watching you concentrate on letting him cum.
“fuck, y/n,” he gasps out his hips bucking into your hand. “i’m close.” you pick up your pace a bit, making the handsome man roll his eyes back in his head and cum all over your hand. you stand up and take a look around the jet to make sure everyone was still asleep. luckily, penelope garcia had given the whole team noise cancelling headphones for christmas, so no one heard a thing.
you smile leaning in to give him soft kiss on the lips before walking to the bathroom to wash off your hands. when you return, spencer's eyes are closed and you can't help but kiss his cheek. he opens his eyes slowly, reaching up to grab your waist and pull you onto him. he throws the blanket over your bodies and kisses your forehead softly.
you squirm slightly, still feeling horny. he looks up at you, eyes barely open. "your turn?" he asks, referring to your pleasure. you laugh softly shaking your head. he was half asleep and still offering to make you happy. "no, its okay pretty boy, we'll save that for later." he nods, a smile on his face.
"are you sure?" he asks, turning his head so he could look you in the eyes, perhaps to see if you were lying.
"yes, i promise." he kisses you on the forehead before falling asleep, his arms around you.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
although you managed to get some sleep in spencer's arms, you knew that soon enough someone would wake up and you both would get caught. so, an hour after falling asleep on the handsome man, you painfully peeled yourself off of his lap and back into your own cold seat.
luckily, no one had (seemingly) seen anything, which was good.
as of now, you were leaving the plane to go to the hayward precinct.
"we'll check in with the chief of police, then dave and i will stay over night while you guys go to the inn and get some sleep." emily announced as they began piling into two large black suburbans.
they collectively thanked prentiss and rossi before heading to the inn.
"wait so when she says inn..." you ask, climbing the the back seat. jj nods.
"yeah, this is a small town so there isn't really any place for us to stay near by."
tara climbs in the passengers seat and luke slides in next to you.
the rest of the ride there was relatively normal, minus a few jokes about you & spencer's make out session at the night club, that you chose to ignore.
you arrived to the inn quickly, grabbing your designated room key and head to your room.
“fuck!” you yell, surprised to see someone already in your room.
“shhh.” spencer says, coming up to close the door behind you, taking your bags from your hands and setting them down by his feet.
“i missed you.” he says, causing you to roll your eyes.
“it’s been like thirty minutes, pretty boy.” he smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. you laugh as he picks you up easily and carries you over to the queen sized bed.
“i’ve just been thinking about earlier.” he says, laying down next to you.
“oh yeah?” you say, turning you head to face him.
“uh huh,” he says, pulling your body closer to him allowing you to lay your head on his chest. “i want to make you cum now.” he says, his voice low. you look up at him allowing him to tip his head down to kiss your lips.
“jj.. is.. next.. door.” you huff out in between kisses. spencer shrugs, flipping your position so he’s on top of you. he begins kissing and biting down your jaw and neck, using his hands to expertly remove your shirt. he lets out a small groan when he rips the shirt off you, revealing your tiny, lacy bra.
“off please.” is all you manage to say, but somehow he understands. he unclasps your bra in a single motion, throwing it to the floor, exposing your hardened nipples.
“y/n..” he says lowly, his eyes filled with lust. “so pretty.” he continues to trail kisses down your neck and chest, until his mouth lands on your tit, sucking softly as his other hand teases your other nipple.
you groan softly, that familiar wet feeling returning in your underwear for the third time in 24 hours.
although you’ve just started, your groans and boobs had already gone straight to spencer’s cock and as he kissed your body you could already feel his hardness pressed on your leg.
you buck your hips up against spencer, begging for some friction.
“i need you inside of me, spencer.” the use of his name he was so unfamiliar with made his pants grow tighter.
“so needy.” he jokes with a smile, moving to remove your pants, his mouth watering at the sight of your covered pussy, a perfect wet spot in the center.
“so, so pretty.” he sighs, hooking his fingers in your underwear and pulling it off of your legs.
without warning he inserts two of his fingers in you, causing you to gasp and moan at the new sensation. you slowly attempt to remove his shirt as pleasure blinds your senses.
soon enough, spencer is moving down to attach his mouth on your cunt. “spence, please, im gonna cum. i need you inside me.” you moan, your back arching. this garners a moan from the handsome man, his noises echoing in your pussy.
you expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t. you feel your walls begin to tighten as he returns his fingers into you, allowing you to finally cum.
you moan and groan, his name on your lips.
even though your only semi cognizantas you recover from your high, you can’t help but notice the way spencer has begun to crash his hips against the bed.
“inside me.” you demand, your breathing heavy. spencer smiles as he removes his pants, leaving just his boxers, and crawls over top of you. he captures your lips in a heated and sloppy kiss, the remnants of your orgasm on his lips.
you reach down, breaking the kiss to remove his underwear, his hard and leaking cock sticking straight up. you smile as he pecks your lips, moving himself so his cock is aligned with your entrance.
he glides his cock over your slit a few times, causing you to beg him to be inside you. you’ve never felt this desperate before. he slowly pushes his large dick into you, causing you to groan, slightly in pain due to his size.
“you okay, baby?” he whispers, noticing your discomfort. you nod as your walls adjust, his size now feeling incredible.
he begins to pump his cock in and out, immediately hitting you in your sweet spot.
“fuck.” you moan, throwing your head back. he uses his hand to move your face back, towards him.
“i want to see your pretty face when you cum, y/n.” he says, in almost a demanding manner, but still with kind undertones.
his words don’t fail to turn you on, somehow even more.
“oh, you like that?” he says through a moan, as his pace quickens, the leud sounds of his cock driving deep inside you, mixed with moans, fill the small room.
“i’m close,” spencer admits, through breathy moans. you open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a deep moan.
you feel his dick twitch inside you as rubs your clit with his fingers.
“cum inside me, please.” you beg, feeling your core tighten around him, your release nearing.
“are you sure?” he asks, his movements becoming more sloppy, his skin coated in a thin layer of sweat.
“yes!” you confirm as you reach your climax for the second time, spencer following quickly.
his hot cum fills you up as he continues his movements, riding you both through your highs.
when you’ve both had a second to catch your breaths, he pulls out of you, leaving you full of his cum, but missing his cock. you smile as he gives you a slow kiss, laying down next to you.
“you’re so perfect.” he whispers into your hair as you lay your head on his chest. you smile, happy, but a little confused how just over a day ago you couldn’t stand this beautiful man.
a/n: thank you all for 100 followers and so much love on my last post. as someone new to tumblr it seriously means a lot. just so you know, my requests are open!!!! thanks again🫶🫶🫶
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msgexymunson · 9 months
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Forbidden Fruit
Description: The newest object of your affections happens to be Eddie; your father's closest friend!
A/N: this is just smut personified and I ain't even sorry. Enjoy it with caution, hells saving a mighty fine warm spot for you ;). 
Warnings: age gap, Eddie's in his forties, reader implied 20s. Voyeurism, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (wrap the thingy, trust me I'm old) 
5k words
Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Delicate fingers are slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts. You stroke at your soft skin, running in teasing patterns. Your body begins to react to your secret touches, downy hairs starting to stand on end as your skin prickles with sensation. Then your hand drifts lower, lower, until it meets your pubic hair. Massaging your breast with your other hand you try to relax and empty your mind, just focus on the feeling. Not that it works. All you see when you close your eyes is Eddie. 
This is wrong. So fucking wrong. He was at least 20 years your senior. Hell, he was one of your father's closest friends. It may as well be forbidden. He probably thinks of you more like a daughter than a lover. 
You couldn't help it though. Recently he was just looking so damn fine. You're not sure if it was just him getting better with age, or you growing up and appreciating the man in front of you. Either way, woof. 
Your fingers find your clit as you think back to earlier today; the events of which hadn't been much help in quenching your mounting feelings. It had been a lovely day, the sun was beating down and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Eddie and your father had teamed up to do some of the yard work. Eddie was always on hand to help with any manual labour, or to fix things. He was really very good with those hands. 
Well, it was a beautiful day, so sunbathing seemed perfectly acceptable behaviour, and not an excuse to be in the yard at all. Nuh uh. You'd headed outside in your skimpy red bikini, book in hand, and laid on a lounger keeping one eye on Eddie. 
God, he'd looked particularly good today. His hair was grasped in a messy bun with a shock of grey and white visible through it. His stubble looked a few days old, peppering his chin and sharp jaw. Those eyes of his sparkled, a deep chocolate brown you wanted to dive into. Jeans clung to his muscular thighs, only wearing an old wife beater on top, showing off his tattoos and chiselled arms. There was a brief moment when he'd lifted up his vest to use it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Abs had gleamed in the midday sun, flexing and taunting you on purpose, or at least it had felt that way. 
When your father had gone inside to grab them both a beer, Eddie had sauntered over to you and crouched right by your lounger. You had done everything you could to keep your face neutral, even though your head was screaming and flinging its metaphorical hands in the air. 
"Hey sweetheart." 
The gravel in his voice sent shivers down your spine. 
"Hey Mr Munson." You responded, trying to keep your eyes on your book. 
"How many times I gotta tell ya? Call me Eddie." 
You glanced over and saw a slow grin creeping across his face, as he eyed you up and down. Is he checking me out? 
Tearing his eyes away, he spoke again. 
"So, where's the little boyfriend today?" 
"What? Oh, him. We broke up. He was… selfish" you reminded yourself of all those disappointing encounters, flicking through your mind like a magazine of the mundane.
His grin widened at that. 
"Oh, that's such a shame." 
He sounded so sincere, but that smile of his was certainly telling a different story. You found yourself looking at the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned. Probably thought he wasn't good enough for me, just like father said. 
It was like he'd read your mind. 
"He wasn't good enough for you anyway." 
"You think?" 
He'd leaned into you, as if telling a secret. You could smell him, lingering sweat, aftershave and cigarettes. Drawn to him, you'd sat up and moved a little closer. His words were a whisper in your ear, his hot breath on your neck making your heart beat just a little too fast.  
"What you need is a real man." 
Mouth falling open, you snapped your head to face him. A quick wink and he was back on his feet, smiling at your father who had just returned from the kitchen. He had walked off without a glance back. 
You press your clit harder at the memory of his words, your other hand snaking its way into your top to tease at your hardened nipple. A real man. 
Was he talking about himself? Or had he just been teasing you for your taste in boys? Either way, his words had made you wet, your thighs clinging together in supplication. 
Fuck it. If he was on your mind you may as well lean into it. Your thoughts wandered, making up scenarios in your head, thinking of those thick fingers replacing yours. Your speed on your clit doubles, thighs squeezing together. It still wasn't enough. There wasn't enough pressure. 
Pulling your hand away in a huff, your eyes land on a cushion on your bed. Hmm, now that just might do. 
Clambering to your bare knees, you straddle it, positioning the seam to sit just where you needed it. 
Now, this was better. You could almost imagine him underneath you as you humped at his impressive length. You assume he had a huge cock. Well, he did in your fantasies anyway. Pulling your top off and away, you tease at your sensitive nipples, one hand keeping the cushion in place. 
So close, you were so close. The warm feeling was pooling in your belly, your clit humming with desire. Scrunching your eyes shut and whimpering, a particularly good rub had you moaning out "Eddie!" 
Unfortunately, you had failed to hear the approaching footsteps. 
"Yeah sweetheart?" 
Frozen, you can only watch in abject horror as your bedroom door swings open and the object of your fantasies is standing in the door frame. 
"Oh shit, I thought- did you just say my name?" He seems split between looking away and getting an eyeful. 
Grasping the bed sheet you quickly cover up your bare chest, cheeks burning scarlet. 
"Sorry." He adds, looking you up and down one last time, and finally swings the door shut. 
Well that's it, now I need to move to a different state. Fuck fuck fuck. 
"Hey, honey, come hear a sec!" Your mother's voice, ringing up the stairs. Trying to get the blood to diffuse from your cheeks with sheer force of will, you hastily scramble to put your top back on. 
"Coming!" You shout back. Well, you nearly had. So fucking close. 
Making your way downstairs past the bathroom you see your parents arm in arm, Eddie spread out on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. Practically feeling his grin from here, you focus on your parents. 
"We're going out to dinner hon. Mr Munson here, well he was going to have a look at the cable. I can't get the damn thing to work. Sure you don't mind Eddie? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?" Your father looks towards Eddie with his question. 
"Nope. Completely free. I'm sure I can fix it." 
"Thanks buddy, you're a lifesaver. Hon, can you look after him? Make sure to give Mr Munson anything he needs." 
Cheeks flaring again with heat, you mumble out your agreement. 
"Thanks sweetie!" Your mother adds, planting a peck on your cheek. Then, they leave. It's just you and Eddie. 
He begins to walk towards you. The walls suddenly seem too close, your skin itchy, hairs standing on end. He stops in front of you, too close for comfort. A rough hand reaches to you and you flinch. He quickly pulls it away. 
"Well, better fix the cable." He smiles at you, and turns on his heel to the TV room, leaving you staring at his retreating ass as he leaves. 
Maybe he's not going to mention it? 
The thought seems too good to be true. You turn to leave, back the way you came, but a strange force is pulling at your gut. Pretty soon you're standing in the door frame of the TV room, staring at Eddie's ass as he bends to look at the cable box.
Fuck, that perfect ass.
He must have changed from earlier. Maybe he'd had a shower? He certainly smelled good. Staring at his back you notice his hair looked damp. 
OK, so, ignore what happened. Eddie seemed to be. Act natural. Be a good host. 
"Eddie, do you want a beer?" 
He doesn't bother looking back, but you hear his deep voice say, "sure thing sweetheart." 
Making your way back to the kitchen, you grab a beer for him and one for yourself, to steady your nerves. 
Placing it on the coffee table, you let him know it's behind him, as you swig your own. 
"Could you come down here sweetheart? I need a hand." 
You fall to your knees beside him. 
"Show me your hands?" 
Confused, you hold your palms up. 
"Perfect, tiny hands. Here." And he grasps one, swallowing it up in his large palm. The skin on skin contact is a shock to your system. 
He pulls your arm gently. 
"There's a cable right there, can you reach that?" 
Sticking your tongue out of the corner of your mouth, you extend your arm, reaching into the gap he couldn't quite hit. 
"Got it." 
"That's it. Good girl." You suck in a sudden breath at his words, warmth simmering in your core. Eddie doesn't seem to notice. 
He's adjusting some other cable, moving the network box to a better position as you stare at the veins in his neck. 
"So, did you finish?" 
"Huh?" Confusion floods your face as you scrunch your eyes at his words. 
"Earlier, when I walked in. Did you finish?" 
Your mouth hangs open. He mentioned it so nonchalantly, not even gaining eye contact. You're so shocked that you answer him without thinking about it. 
"N-no." 
"Shame." 
What sort of alternative reality is this? 
"OK, can you feel my hand? Give me that cable." 
You pass it to him wordlessly, fingers brushing his ever so slightly. 
"There. Should be fine now. Try the remote."
Turning the TV on, it does indeed work. You switch it off as Eddie sits back on his heels. 
"It just wasn't wired correctly. Easy mistake to make. So, you need a hand?" 
"Huh?" You sound out doltishly as he swigs his beer. 
"Seemed like you could do with some help earlier is all." 
Swallowing hard at his words, you feel your thighs clench and your heart race. 
"Eddie, what are you saying, exactly?" Words spilling out a lot calmer than you felt. 
"All I'm saying is, you looked like you could use some help. I reckon I could help you out. A lot more than a cushion, anyway." He says, a slow smile spreading over his face making your knees want to melt.
You stare and stare, momentarily lost for words. 
"Come on sweetheart, there's a reason why you were moaning my name. We need to get whatever this is out of our system. " 
You will your legs to move, to flee. They don't. They have their own agenda it seems, taking a shaky step towards him, and another. He's still kneeling on the floor, a slight smirk pulling at his face as if he has all the time in the world. 
Your knees do buckle then, under the weight of his words, as you mirror his position. There's a slight gap between you, but you're closer than you think you ever have been. The air between you seems to hum with desire, an electric current buzzing back and forth. 
Reaching out with hesitant fingers, you finally close the distance, resting your hand softly on his knee. 
"I'm- I'm sorry that I, erm, said your name, it's so damn embarrassing-" 
"Don't be sorry," he responds, his giant hand coming to rest over yours sending your pulse into overdrive, "that was the hottest thing I've ever seen." 
"Really?" You can't help the disbelief dripping all over your tone. 
"You're kidding right? I've been fuckin' hard for the last hour, I'm sure it's not healthy." 
You giggle into your hand at his confession and move to look down, but his hand is on your jaw then, pulling your chin up. 
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, you know. We can just forget all this and I'll leave." 
His stare is firm and sincere, but there's an undercurrent of need behind those eyes, one that's making the pulse between your legs hammer out a tattoo on your insides. 
Before it even registers in your head, you're the one pushing toward him, drawn in by that stare. Your lips are crushing against his when you realise you had taken the leap and kissed him. Eddie's hand presses into the small of your back, pushing you bodily against him, the other snaking into your hair. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss his tongue begins to slide against yours. Never had a kiss felt so good, so sordid. You wrap your arms around his middle to steady yourself as he explores your mouth greedily. 
A slam of a car door snaps you back to reality; pushing your body off him hurriedly you look around with wild eyes. 
"Hey, sweetheart, it's OK. It's not them, it's too early for that." 
You stop and listen, and realise he's right. 
"Sorry." 
"Hey, it's OK." He smiles, flooding your tummy with warmth. 
"You wanna go and get comfortable, sweets? We can, well, just this once."
You nod and stand up wordlessly, leading him to your bedroom. Your pace is slow and measured as you walk up the stairs, belying the running commentary in your head. 
Oh fuck, I can't believe this is happening. This is Mr Munson for fucks sake. Dad would absolutely freak. Oh fuck. 
As you're closing the door, he's kicking his shoes off and sitting up on your bed. His rough demeanour and chiselled physique look so out of place, juxtaposed by the sweet pink bedclothes. 
"Come here sweetheart, right here." He says, patting his lap. You move over to him, trying to work out exactly where he wants you. 
"Knees either side, come on baby, I know you know how to straddle." His smile is dipped in sin, biting his lower lip slightly and flashing his teeth. You take a shaky breath and mount him, your thin sleep shorts barely covering your expectant pussy. 
"Can you, um, take your jeans off?" You ask hesitantly, "I wanna feel you." 
"Whatever you want baby, I'm here to help." 
You sit awkwardly to one side as he wiggles his jeans off those perfect hips, giving you a teasing sliver of his lower abdomen to gawp at before he's gripping your hips forcefully and pushing your core down against his solid bulge. 
"Hmm, nearly perfect," he says, giving you an appraising look. 
"What's not right?" You feel your cheeks blush, waiting for him to point out some flaws you have. 
"Well, I'm sure when I walked in earlier with you in this position you were topless." 
An impossible amount of blood flushes your face, chest, neck. Eddie's thumbs trace calming circles into the flesh of your hips, catching the hem of your top and slipping just beneath. 
Lifting your top up hesitantly, you move your arms up and away, discarding the clothing on the floor of your room. 
Eddie's eyes are fixated on your nude breasts, letting out a slow breath. He holds your hips harder, fingers bruising into you. 
"There. Perfect. You are perfect sweetheart. Such a good girl for me." 
It's deeply pathetic, the noise that escapes your lips at his praise, but it serves to break the spell Eddie is under and forces him to look at your rosy cheeks and pouting lips. 
"Fuck, you like that sweetheart?" He asks, large hands clinging to your hips, starting to grind you back and forth. His breathing is laboured, as if he's trying to hold himself together.
"Yeah." You say back, voice small, hiding under his studious gaze. 
"Don't go all shy on me now baby. This good, yeah?" 
You nod, mewling at the sensation. He's rock hard, and just the feel of his solid dick rubbing back and forth, hitting your swollen clit with each pass has your head spinning. Just two layers, two layers of flimsy fabric lay between him and you. Between him entering you. 
"Talk to me sweetheart. What do you need?" 
His eyes are searching yours, so eager to make you happy. 
"Please, please play with my nipples." 
A rough hum rumbles from his throat, hands creeping up to your chest. 
"So polite. Whatever you need sweetheart." 
Taking over grinding over his member, you feel your skin thrumming, heat bubbling in your gut as his hands begin to trace over your curves. His thumbs graze the underside of your tits with confident movements. Expecting him to start pinching at your nipples, it takes you entirely by surprise when he leans forward and takes one in his mouth, sucking hard. 
Whimpering quietly, you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to be quiet. It's like Eddie can read your fucking mind. Unlatching from your nipple, he grabs your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes to meet his. 
"I told you. Don't be shy. It's just you and me here. I want to hear you. Every whimper, every fucking moan. I'm committing this to memory, so make it a good one." 
A watery grin unfurls over your face, eyes tearing up unexpectedly. 
"OK Eddie." 
"Good fucking girl." 
"Oh God-"
Before you're done moaning at his words, his lips are immersing your nipple again, wet and warm and rough; as he pinches the other with hardened skin fingertips. A thick tongue darts out, flicking back and forth over the hardened nub. 
"Oh Eddie, oh fuck!" Your moans are loud and unashamed, your hips frantically humping over his turgid cock, clit swollen, nearing on sore.
His breath diffuses over the sensitive skin of your breast. 
"See that's it baby, I know, I know. Keep going, use me." 
Chasing your release your movements become almost violent, hands grasping onto his wavy locks and tugging hard. He groans at that, almost a growl. Teeth scraping your aching nipple, he unlatches with a wet pop and instead bites into the joining spot between your neck and shoulder harder than anyone had done before. The act was bordering on feral. An animalistic gesture, sucking on your flesh as if he was sucking the orgasm out of you. 
It was working. The low simmering in your gut had bubbled over, threatening to pull you under into the deep depths of pleasure. You let it, screaming out his name as you lost breath, quickly losing yourself in the gaping depths of your release. 
Slowing your frantic rocking movements, you finally slow to a halt.
"Feel better sweetheart?" 
You hum, fingers tracing over the muscles of his toned arms. Your pussy hasn't gotten the message however, clenching around nothing. Your walls are pulsing, wanting to clench onto something, anything. 
"Yeah I'm good." 
"Don't lie to me." 
Gasping at his hard words, you look into his eyes. 
"If you're done I'll leave-" 
"No!" You shout, gripping him harshly,
fingernails embedding into his skin. This can't be over, not yet.
"See?" He laughs, almost mocking you, "if you need more, say so. I want to help you. What do you need?"
"I-" fuck why is this so difficult? "I need, I need something inside me." 
"See? Was that so hard? You want my fingers baby? I'll make you come, as many times as you need." 
You nod enthusiastically, slipping off his lap. He turns you to the side suddenly so your legs are draped over his. Firm, smooth strokes rub up, up, up your thighs making you quiver. 
"Take these shorts off. I need to see that pretty pussy of yours." 
Wiggling out of them, they land on the floor in a heap. 
"Fuck. Spread your legs a little." 
It isn't in you not to comply. Your knees fall open, entirely exposed. 
"Well, look at you. Fucking perfect." A rough hand slots between your legs, two fingers rubbing the length of your pussy. 
Leaning back on your hands, your back arches into his touch, hips moving upwards to meet each stroke. 
"You really want this? You want me to fuck you with my fingers?" His movements are tantalising and slow. Your body begs for more, more. 
Nodding at him, you soon see it's not enough. 
"Use your words sweetheart." Fingers whisper across forbidden skin, circling around but never touching your clit. 
"Oh God please, please I need you, please fill me up!" All modesty forgotten.
"Fuck, yeah that's it, hmm" you feel his fingers swipe your wet lips, about to go deeper. Leaning forward, he angles his head towards your cunt, and spits, hard.
Holy fucking fuck. 
That act had you clenching all over again, rocking into nothing. 
"Oh she likes that! Dirty girl." 
He smiles his approval and gathers your combined wetness, two fingers diving deep inside you. It's aggressive and rough and entirely what you've been craving. 
"This what you wanted baby? My fingers filling you up? Fucking into your cunt?" 
His words are filthy, switching something inside your head you weren't aware of until just now.
"Yeah, fuck please, stretch me out, I fucking need you baby, please please please!" 
Your tiny hands are gripping onto him, desperately seeking him, digging into skin and flesh. 
"Oh you are so hot. Keep begging, I like it." His salacious grin pours over his features, fingers working you roughly, nestling into a spot inside that had your toes curling. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, as his other hand slaps harshly against your thigh. 
"I said beg." 
His ministrations start to slow. 
"No, don't stop! Please, oh fuck please, I need to fucking come Eddie!" Your eyes seeking his with a desperate gleam, toying with your features. 
"Yeah, that's it sweetheart, fuck," and his hand lands a hard smack against the side of your ass making you shriek. 
"You're a dirty girl, aren't you?" His fingers continue, setting a brutal pace, each stroke reaching your g spot pathetically easily.
"Yeah, oh yes, for you I am." 
A thick tongue runs up the side of your neck, pushing his fingers harder, deeper. 
"Oh Eddie I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, don't stop!" 
"Not stopping, not even if you paid me. Come for me sweetheart." 
Your hips betray you, rubbing against his fingers as hard as they can, desperately seeking your second release. 
They don't have long to look. Suddenly it bursts around you, popping in your head like a firecracker of feeling, pulsing out of you in waves. Your fingers wind into his hair once again as your orgasm floods your system, hands almost frightened of being swept away. 
You knew he was good with his hands but fuck, his words were something else. 
"Oh my God that was incredible." You stutter out, legs still trembling. 
"I aim to please. You good now baby?" His fingers whispering over your arm, catching your nerves, making quivers run over and over you. 
If I'm good, he's gonna leave, and that will be it. Fuck, just don't want it to be over. 
"No. I need you to fuck me. Just this once. Please. I- I need you to cum inside me."
"Shit sweetheart, you want my fuckin' cock? How could I refuse such a sweet good girl." 
Laying you down against your many pillows, he stands, ridding himself of his shirt and pants. 
Oh fuck, just look at his cock. 
It's swollen, throbbing against his slickened pubic hair, wetted by your own juices. Licking your lips impulsively, you spread your legs wide, wanting to guide his hips between yours.
"Fuck that's a pretty dick. So fucking big." 
He looks at you, quirking an eyebrow. 
Oh fuck you just said that out loud. 
"Yeah? You want it? You want me?" 
He's smiling, stroking at his throbbing length, making an emotion akin to jealousness bloom in your chest. 
"I need you Eddie." 
He climbs between your thighs again, letting another glob of spit fly from those perfect lips of his. 
"Oh!" You moan eagerly, writhing beneath him.
"You are perfect, aren't you? Fucking filthy and ready for me." The head of his swollen member nudges your soft opening. 
"I'm on birth control, please just fill me up." 
"Oh fuck you're gonna make me bust if you keep on like that." The words are admonishing, but he sounds impressed. 
His weight dips onto the mattress between your legs, making it sink dramatically. You grab his relatively narrow hips, your slender fingers forcing his body between yours. You need him inside you, now.
The fat, leaking head of his cock rubs against your intumescent lips. 
"Fuck me Eddie, I need you, please fuck me!" You blabber, fingers flexing hard against his hard muscles. 
The mushroom head of his turgid cock pushes against your sodden opening. It breaches you then, forcing its way into your soaking lips. 
Pushing harder and harder into your deepest depths, you whimper, walls quivering around his fat length. 
"Eddie, oh God Eddie!" Your moans are unrestrained and throaty, him rubbing against the spot that makes you wobble inside. 
"You wanna come again? So fucking greedy sweetheart." You expect those words to have bite to them, but he's grinning, forehead nearly touching yours as he hikes your legs around his middle. 
You hump at him recklessly, hips thrusting against his waist as hard as you can. 
 "Oh my fucking God, fuck!!" 
You release hard, wetness squirting over Eddie's imposing length as you moan hard and loud. 
"Hey honey, we're home!" 
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. 
Your eyes flick wildly to Eddie. It doesn't help that he seems amused, chuckling a silent laugh into your skin. 
"I've, I've gone to bed, see you in the morning!" You cry out desperately, hoping to heaven, or hell, that they listen. 
"Eddie fix the cable?" You hear your mom call out up the stairway. 
"Yeah he's, he's really good with his hands!" You shout back, Eddie's body shaking with silent laughter over you, the arms caging your head trembling with barely contained amusement. 
"Great news, night honey!" 
You grip Eddie's shoulders as hard as you can as you listen for the minute changes in air. There it is, mother and father both going to bed. 
"Fuck that was close." You huff, releasing your titanesque grip on his shoulders. 
"But I'm not done sweetheart." 
He thrusts hard and deep against you, his impressive member rubbing against that sweet spot yet again.
"Eddie, you can't, fuck-"
"Oh I can. You just need to shut up." He grins quietly, holding your body close to his. 
"Oh Eddie, oh-" 
"Shhh, fuck sweetheart, shut the fuck up." He whispers urgently into the skin of your neck. Your mouth forms a perfect 'o', wiggling against him ardently. 
He releases his cum into you with a hard, shuddering thrust, throbbing and throbbing out of him. It pumps inside you, pushing you to the edge of coming yet again.
Eddie knows. 
Grinning wickedly, he latches his teeth to your nipple again and sucks hard. Moments later you feel your release explode from your core, dampening your bed sheets in the process. 
Thrumming against him, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, you manage to coax your breathing to a normal level. 
"I hope that's everything you wanted sweetheart, 'cause it aint happening again." 
Before you can protest, Eddie is leaving the warmth between your thighs and aiming for the window, so no one suspects what just happened between you two. A few sure movements and he disappears, however reluctantly, into the night. Leaving you huffing, and panting, and wanting. 
@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiethefreakkmunson @munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiemunsonfuxks @eddiesprincess86 @corrodedhawkins @eddiethefreakkmunson @indouloureux @icallhimjoey
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ofswordsandpens · 4 months
Text
Okay compiling my most critical opinions on the pjo show so far (episodes 1 & 2)
The Gods' Conflict, Foreshadowing, & Big Three Kids
The show has seemingly dropped a lot of the foreshadowing and threat regarding the gods impending war over the theft of the lightning bolt. In the book, Percy remarks about how the weather's been inexplicably weird and extreme. When he gets to camp everyone is on pins and needles about something and they don't want to talk about it but its still very present. By the time he's claimed as a son of Poseidon and everyone's like "oh fuck" and then Chiron finally explains to Percy that the gods think he's the lightning thief, everything clicks into place for the reader. It all makes sense why everything seems so wrong... because things are wrong. Meanwhile in the show, that doesn't carry through as much, so the reveal of the conflict between the gods and why that's a big deal falls flat in comparison imo.
They dropped/stalled the foreshadowing of the fates and the cutting of the string. They could very well include this in future episodes, and probably will, but I think the timing of it - Percy seeing this before he even knew he was a demigod - again carries some hefty significance and helped set the foreboding tone of things being wrong even from the beginning.
They did drop Zeus's attack on Percy in the minotaur battle completely, which does disappoint me. In the book, its lightning that blasts the car off the road. In the show, Sally seemingly loses control of the car. That change is pretty significant, because it's again losing the power of RR's foreshadowing in the book. The attack on Percy outside the camp borders was a duel attack from Zeus and Hades.
Finally, I don't like the changes they made to Percy's claiming scene, namely, the reaction from the rest of CHB. Percy being a son of Poseidon is a huge deal. When Percy's claimed, the attitude is very much begrudging reverence paired with genuine fear of what it means and what he represents. In the book, Percy is claimed. People gasp. Everyone kneels. Annabeth says, "This is really not good." In the show, Percy is claimed. People... stand there? Annabeth smiles - she's going to get her quest. The only person who has the most outright negative reaction is Luke. I won't go so far to say this is out of character for Annabeth, but it is focusing on an entirely different aspect of her character in the moment, and what the audience gets from Percy's claiming scene here, the tone, is now different from the book. Basically, the reverence and fear don't really carry across to the show, which I think is important.
The phrase "forbidden child" slaps tho.
2. Gabe's Characterization, Sally's Characterization, & Why the Changes do Make a Difference
I'm going to say this with great care: The show has absolutely depicted an abusive relationship between Sally and Gabe. The show has shown Sally to be a strong woman who would do anything for her child. The show has shown Gabe to be a controlling, toxic man.
What they have depicted in the show does not read like the characters and dynamic in the books.
Book Gabe is a violent, menacing drunk. He is so disgusting and vile that monsters avoid him. This is overwhelmingly apparent from the second Percy gets home in the book, even before he is aware of the physical abuse Sally has been facing. Percy has already been dealing with physical abuse from him, amongst other things (edit to be more specific: this is including verbal, emotional, & financial abuse). I've already spoke to it here, in-depth, so I'll try to keep it short but all of this has not been translated accurately to the screen. (Is this to say that a person must be overtly abusive to be abusive? No. But does this character on-screen feel like Smelly Gabe? No.) These things have shaped Percy (and Sally) in very specific ways. As others have mentioned: Percy cannot stand alcohol. He meets Dionysus and is reminded of his step-father. He gets to Tartarus and the air reminds him of Gabe.... The character on screen, while abusive, does not share this presence at all, and that makes a difference.
Edit: To emphasize once more, I am not saying that the show has not depicted a realistic portrayal of abuse. It has (verbal, emotional, & financial so far). It has also distinctly changed the tone and Gabe's presence from the book, to the extent that it no longer feels like the same character and that does have a rippling effect on the dynamics he shares with both Sally and Percy.
3. The Lack of Annabeth
Annabeth in the show is just like... really not as present as she is in the book so far, and I'm just kinda like, why lol?
Annabeth in the books is already way more involved in Percy's life. She was in the infirmary feeding Percy ambrosia after the attack (ulterior quest motives lol), she's the one who lead Percy around camp and re-explained godly parentage to him - and its a moment where she's very sincere with him, and even trying to help him! Instead these moments are given to Chiron and Luke, which I do get the merit of, but still, these were her moments!
Annabeth in the books had already surmised that the gods were fighting, something was stolen, and the something bad was going to happen, all before Percy had even been claimed. And she shared that with him! Again, the loss of foreshadowing and little bonding moments has me :(
I'm a little worried how they're going to deal with her crush on Luke because its pretty central to her character in the books! It helps Luke to manipulate her and also keeps her from admitting he's done something wrong. Also, it was very sweet and funny reading her get flustered - It drove home the point that she was just a kid with a crush that she didn't know how to handle. But in the show Luke spoke to her and I was expecting there to be some sort of reaction to it and there just... wasn't? (This is not something I'm laying at Leah's feet btw! Only the writers/directors!) We're only two episodes in tho so maybe we'll see it some more moving forward.
4. The Minotaur Battle
Again, I've already spoken about this in depth here but !!
The lack of Zeus's lightning strike, them all coming to a standstill and just chatting instead of running for their lives, Grover being awake and just sort of off to the side watching the fight, Sally being like "Promise Me Grover Swear it"... it all just doesn't ring right to me
I wanted more panic, more terror, more urgency. Higher stakes. I wanted Grover unconscious, I wanted to see Percy drag him into camp, and I wanted to see more of Percy's grief alongside his rage. Like the book did.
The pacing in the show here, and just overall, is weird
5. Other Stuff
Mrs. Dodds fight kind of fell flat too. It was honestly too sudden and Percy killing her in the show seemed even more accidental than in the book lol. Like, accidental impalement vs intentional swing of the sword.
They really had show Grover throw Percy to the wolves and not just gaslight him, but low-key have a part in getting him expelled? Not sure how I feel about it tbh.
More New York. I wish we had gotten the part of Percy taking the bus home with Grover included cause like? Him ditching Grover was funny, but it would have been the perfect opportunity to show Percy traveling through New York and establish it has his home. Shots of him looking at the city, walking the streets, interacting with people near his building.. yeah.
More Montauk too tbh. Like more shots of him and Sally on the beach rather than just the cabin.
Nectar and Ambrosia! Unless I missed it, which I might have, why have we still not gotten an onscreen depiction of it yet lmao.
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marvelsmylife · 2 months
Text
Begin again
Pairing: Azriel x reader
Plot: Azriel grants you your wish of being left alone for a while. The second the times up though, he starts his plan to win you back.
A/n this is the last part to Damned if you do, Damned if you don’t story. I would like to remind you that my requests are open (please try to send in fluffy or smut requests. I need to chill out on angsty stories for a while 😂😂😂)
Warning: fluff
Part One Part Two Bonus Scene
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Clinging onto the hope you gave him the night of the dinner party, Azriel gave you the space you asked for and settled with giving you three weeks. He was still a wreck during those three weeks, but he spent that time planning the perfect way to win you back. When the three weeks were up, he set his plan into motion.
It started out small. He was leaving you roses by your front door with a note that included a happy memory you shared. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the memories he wrote down, from the first day you met to the first book he ever bought you just because he saw it and thought you might enjoy it.
You couldn’t believe he remembered the tiny moments you shared together and started feeling bad that you had been ignoring him for two years. You knew that any other male would have moved on if they were in Azriel’s position. Yet he stayed loyal to you, and while he was over the top while he begged for forgiveness he never once stopped fighting for you or your forgiveness.
He then resorted to the one thing he told Cassian he would never do, writing poems for you. Granted, they weren’t that great when he started writing them, but by the sixth week, he had you swooning by the time you finished reading the poem.
The best part was that he actually got help from some of your students. Every day, he would approach one of them and ask if they could hand you the poem and give you a beautiful set of either earrings or a necklace. The students would be excited that the spymaster of the night court asked them for a favor and were more than happy to deliver the poem, along with a few jewelry pieces.
Azriel would watch from a distance as you read the poem and held the piece of jewelry against your chest.
The next thing Azriel did was stop by the old dance studio you attended and properly apologize to your old instructor. He apologized for his actions and explained what drove him to do what he did.
Azriel was surprised when your old instructor accepted his apology and told him he would let you know that Azriel apologized to him. Of course, Azriel told him he didn’t have to do that, that he did it because it was the right thing to do. “The apology might be two years late, but at least you did it. Most males would never apologize in the first place, let alone an Illyrian male.”
Even though Azriel told him he didn’t have to, your old instructor stopped by your studio and informed you that Azriel apologized to him: “He seemed so remorseful for his actions. Do you ever plan on forgiving him?”
“I already have,” you confessed and started playing with the necklace Azriel had gifted you a few weeks back: “The thing is, I'm scared that he is going to resent me again and take his anger out my studio because I built a career out of something I’m passionate about. I love teaching dance too much just to go back to being the spymaster's mate.”
“Why can’t you be both?” your instructor pointed out: “Be the spymaster's mate AND an amazing dancing teacher.”
You went home that night replaying the conversation and wondered if your old instructor was right.
His big move came six months later. He had gotten wind that you were now providing private lessons for fae’s who were too shy to learn around other people. They would have to pay in order to receive those private lessons, but they were reasonably priced.
You thought others wouldn’t want to pay for private lessons after attending your other classes for free. You were surprised when all of your openings for private lessons were booked for the foreseeable future.
You were getting ready to teach someone late at night when you spotted Azriel walking through the front door: “Azriel! What are you doing here? I have a private lesson in five minutes.”
“I’m the one who requested the private lesson,” Azriel confessed: “Teach me everything you know about the thing you love the most.”
A smile formed on your face at Azriel’s request, and you were more than happy to oblige. You started teaching him the basics and were surprised at how fast he learned to dance. “Look at you,” you beamed at Azriel: “You’ll be a better dancer than me in no time.”
“Not possible,” Azriel stared lovingly at you.
By the end of the lesson, Azriel had his arms around your body, holding you close to him. He was enjoying having you in his arms after being denied it for years. “I’ve missed you so much, my love,” Azriel spoke into your hair before getting ahold of your chin and making you look into his eyes: “I am nothing without you.”
Azriel found himself staring at your lips and was tempted to lean in and kiss you, but he didn’t want to overstep and potentially ruin all of the progress he had accomplished thus far.
To his surprise, you were the one that pulled him into a kiss. He didn’t complain. As a matter of fact, he took control of the kiss immediately and had you pinned against the mirrored wall. 
You let out a soft moan at Azriel’s action and found yourself pressing yourself against his body, desperate for his touch. “I really am sorry for all the pain I have caused you these past couple of years,” Azriel whispered as he cradled your neck: “I never realized how much I needed you in my life until you left me. I was such a fool for saying such hurtful things to you.”
A small smile appeared on your face at Azriel’s apology: “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear you say. Thank you for apologizing and for all the flowers and poems you’ve sent me these past few months.”
“Can you come home now? Our house is not a home without you in it” Azriel begged, his scarred hands were now tangled in your hair.
“Yes, I will come home,” you replied before a mischievous smile appeared on your face: “But what do you say we spend the night here, just for tonight?” Azriel was going to question why you would want to sleep in your studio when you tapped on the mirror behind you. “You have always said it would be nice to fuck in front of a mirror. Well, we have one right here.”
“Have I told you how much I love you yet?” Azriel groaned before leaning in and capturing your lips again.
A/n. Let me know if you guys would be interested in a bonus scene with the reader, Azriel, and that mirror.
@byyalady @sheblogs @janebirkln @starsinyourseyes @cumuluscranium @honeybee54321 @pussyistasty-blog @azriels-shadowsinger @anuttellaa @pussyistasty-blog @fightmedraco @aunicornmademedoit @esposadomd @thelov3lybookworm @harrystylesfan2686 @sarawritestories @fxckmiup @sleepylunarwolf @mochibabycakes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @stargirl1714 @tenshis-cake @tele86 @63angel @sagskylar01 @i-am-infinite @kristin813 @one-big-fangirl
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clericofgale · 4 months
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The stars will be our bed
I'm seeing a very popular narrative that asking for physical sex during Gale's act 2 scene is better for his character development, and the astral scene is bad for him. Or at least not as good. While I do prefer the astral version more, I disagree with the notion that either one is better for Gale's plot development. I've done both options depending on the what felt right for that specific Tav at the time. As always, if that's the narrative you want to build, there's nothing wrong with it.
For me personally I think both are narratively sound for his character development. Yes Gale needs to know he doesn't need magic to be loved, but Gale also loves magic. It's his life, his passion and his artistic medium of choice. What he needs is balance, not total rejection. You want the man, and the magic.
"Tactful, Bowing to the player's desires"
If you insist on regular sex, that's the devnote that's attached to it. Gale is acquiescing to what you, the player wants. Gale wanted to share his magic with you, but you refused. He doesn't care either way, as long as he's spending the night with you. The approval numbers are the same. He obviously prefers the astral sex because it's what he's used to and confident in, but either is fine.
One thing we have to remember is Gale also uses magic to find connection. In the act 1 weave scene, Gale and you share thoughts over the weave. It's exactly what he's trying to do in Act 2 as well. It's a mind meld sequence using the weave. I don't think Gale is trying to use magic to as a front in this scene, despite the "I can wow you" sentence if you refuse. I think he's trying to share his inner self with magic as the canvas, and connect with you in this most intimate way. It's akin to Fane's scene in DOS2 where you share Source with each other and also mind meld.
Gale wants to distill a lifetime's worth of affection into one night because he feels he will die soon. The scene is his "Last Night Alive". Gale, the artist of the weave puts on his final and private show for his beloved. He weaves stars and invites light to the land of shadows. He's prepared for days for this whole sequence, and you only need to trust him.
If you do he leads you into his innermost world. First, where he feels safest, and the balcony that brings him comfort. Then the book of a thousand days and nights filled with his love for you. The amount of time he wishes he had left to show you his affection, physical or emotional.
But he only has one night.
"There are endless worlds out there. Countless ways to declare love. Infinite ways to express it. Too much for one night.. but we shall try."
The astral scene is him trying. He multiplies as he refuses to let go your hand. He caresses every part of your mind, body, and soul. Gale tries desperately to sear every fiber of your being, of the one he loves onto his own soul. He wants to feel everything you do, and the weave is capable of that.
"Your bodies and minds weave together in a masterpiece of intimacy. Never have you felt such wonder, such love - as vast as the universe itself, and just as heavenly. "
You are one and the same that night. Where Gale ends and you begin is a mystery; he is lost in you and you in him.
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"We are all sensual vessels. Illusory magic lets us sail farther, and feel more deeply."
The scene is beautiful, both narratively and visually. This is not a man trying to use magic to demonstrate his worth so you won't leave him. This is a man trying to use magic to weave a tapestry from two spools of thread in one night. It's ok to let him do so. It's also ok to remind him he doesn't need to. Whichever feels right in that moment is the right choice.
They all end in giving Gale renewed hope. Magic was merely the medium on which it blossomed and thrived. Whether from a bed of stars or a bed conjured under it, your love is what gave it life.
Thanks for reading this way too long cold take.
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justporo · 8 months
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Do you have any headcanons on what Astarion and Tav's home would look like? :)
You bet, I do! But I put some more thought into it over the day so may I present you with:
Domestic headcanons about what Tav's and Astarion's home in Baldur's Gate would look like
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After your adventures and some looting of certain castles you go to buy a small but luxurious townhouse in the Upper City of Baldur's Gate - probably criminally under its actual worth but you two are just so convincing, aren't you?
Dark wooden floors, high windows (with thick brocade curtains of course), wrought-iron balcony and fence - it's giving gothic and dark academia but in a homey and warm way
Soft lighting everywhere, lots of candles and candelabra, a fire place of course and oil lanterns that make every room feel warm and cozy
Astarion has impeccable taste and enjoys a bit of decadence (of course) and really finds joy in picking out furniture and decorations - he's going for noble, rich, palace-y, posh vibes, but tasteful
Also Tav would stop him from going overboard - she's not used to all the pompous stuff and cares more about the pracitcality of it all; also she's definitely the one who brings in some plants and greenery; also some nice stuff for Scratch because I'm sure Tav would insist on being the one to keep him
When Tav says she'd rather likes it simple tho... "Simple, love? Everyone can have simple, but not just anyone can have beautiful!" "So... you are not denying that beautiful means more complicated?" "No, but isn't that also why you chose me after all? Because I'm intricately complicated and incredibly beautiful?" Can't argue with that logic
Tav's also focused on making it cozy though and especially creating comfy little corners where they can just lounge together: like a little alcove to sit and read or look out the window or some pillows on the wood floor so you can sit in front of the fire place
There's a chaise-longue somewhere in the house - maybe in the incredibly over-sized dressing room, so Astarion can lay on it and watch Tav dress
DEFINITELY NO MIRRORS - no need to remind Astarion of that particular part of his condition; also why would he need it if you can tell him how beautiful he is everyday?
There's also a piano (as we have learnt before *wink*) and lots of books and trinkets and artworks - Astarion likes all stuff having to do with arts
It might be messy, at least at the beginning, you're both not used to having and holding onto stuff, also Astarion's desperately trying to find himself - that comes with creative chaos
Is there even a need to mention the bed is huge? And also has very much cliché dark red silk sheets? But it's probably the piece of furniture where you spend the most of your nights, not only for mingeling but just sitting and laying there, reading, drawing, talking, teasing each other
Also at some point you'd probably get a joint portrait but you don't want it to be too stiff and regal rather wanting it to show how much joy you give each other
The kitchen is to spoil Tav: when Astarion finds out you enjoy cooking and are pretty skilled at it he gets you all the best equipment he can find - even though you don't know how to use half of it - yet
Oof, I could maybe keep going some more... Thanks for the message, it was fun to think about this. (Also I know I might be swinging between medieval and more victorian vibes but hush, it's a fictional world where everything is possible) Also I knew I wouldn't yet do requests - but really that was just me putting something out there I already thought about. And I'll do some requests soon!
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galamalion · 4 months
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𐕣. 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐒
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summary. you attempt to enjoy the peaceful snowfall on your own, but aren't these beautiful moments meant to be shared?
⤷ contents. yandere!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships // wc. 1.6k
⤷ notes. thank you to @ddarker-dreams who inspired me to write something for chrollo, she's written some deplorable things for this man <3 i'm still only writing for one piece, this is something i just really wanted to write!
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Snow had been falling for the last hour, painting the city below in a thin sheet of pure white, only the dark speckles of countless heads walking to-and-fro disturbing the peacefulness below. The windowsills and balcony were also beginning to pick up a layer, growing steadily with each tiny flake that joined the pile. A beautiful sight slowly being constructed, irreplaceable and inimitable by mankind.
But what is a beautiful thing, if not to be held and marveled?
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You gazed solemnly out the window, fingers splayed against the chilled glass. A similar feeling no doubt to the snow that was just out of reach. God, how long had it been since you’d touched snow? Felt that freezing, yet warming sensation dance across your nerves, sending confusing signals to your brain.
Three years inside a luxury penthouse gave you time to organize your thoughts more poetically.
Well, to say you’d been here for three years would be inaccurate. Two years and five months inside this home. Chrollo must have been anxious for the first seven months he had you, either keeping you by his side or stashing you in rich hotels, if only for a single night.
Perhaps he had become more comfortable, or maybe he was working on a long job, seeing as you’d been here for so long. The fact that you were unsupervised made you lean towards the former, in addition to his unbeatable strength that made resistance futile. But you knew your limits, and slowly you’d been learning Chrollo’s over the course of these three years. Carefully tip-toeing the line between admonishment and punishment; you’d never get the last word but always make a sharp jab, leaving the oh-so generously gifted—and probably stolen—jewelry and makeup untouched, and, perhaps your favorite, ignoring his first call of your name, but always coming on the second.
Pretending to not have heard Chrollo was your favorite pastime after learning that there was little he could do except implore you to open those poor little ears of yours. And it was a joy asking him to repeat himself, enjoying the twinge of annoyance that you could make out in his voice. 
However, as was normal in your new life, Chrollo had made himself scarce for an extended period of time. It wasn’t strange, in fact it was a much needed relief of his soul-scathing presence. He was most likely on a job, having found some ancient book or enchanting onyx necklace that he just had to have. Or, more accurately, another rotting memoir of a dead pompous poet that you would have to listen to Chrollo gush about, and another piece of jewelry for you to throw in the box and forget.
Maybe he’d get creative and bring you a fun hat this time.
At the end of the day, Chrollo wasn’t here, leaving you alone with your own thoughts. It was refreshing, not being alert at every waking moment, though that freezing fear had most certainly dulled with time. You had time to read, maybe start on a puzzle before you became too tired—coffee had been upgraded to a privilege in the last month, and something that Chrollo was only allowed to make, leaving you to rely on your own body’s performance to remain awake for longer. But puzzles left a sour taste in your mouth ever since Chrollo exchanged your fun scenic sets for Renaissance paintings.
And so you settled on reading, the only other thing to do in this godforsaken prison. Chrollo never liked it when you called it that, reminding you that ‘prisons didn’t have fresh produce or fireplaces.’ But even a golden cage is a cage, something you’d remind him of. He took away the remote after that spat.
You abandoned your window gazing and skipped over to the imposing bookshelf and the expansive collection of tomes that awaited you. Half were unreadable, written in dead languages you couldn’t begin to comprehend. The other half were plain boring, a collection of classics that Chrollo had most likely stolen over the years. But a handful were bearable, or at least interesting enough to keep you reading. You had offhandedly mentioned to Chrollo that you preferred mysteries, and the very next day a complete vintage series of Sherlock Holmes appeared. You tried to hint at adding more diverse genres, but so far there have been no new additions to the bookshelf. 
After peeling the first book from the shelf and giving it a light shake to remove any lingering dust, you fled to the comfort of the window nook. It was a remarkable spot—one you knew Chrollo hated, since he could not sit next to you. You thumbed through the book to the first page, laying eyes upon the old and yellowed paper.
“In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army.”
“Already a far more interesting life,” you muttered, “wish I could be a doctor.”
“Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out.”
“Oh, to travel the world. How I envy you, Watson,” you sighed, bleakly turning towards the window.
The snow hadn’t quit, continuing to stain the buildings in white, a gorgeous scene to behold. It was not to be enjoyed for long, however, as you caught a despicable glimpse in the reflection behind you.
Walking ever-so slightly closer was your captor, Chrollo Lucilfer, in the flesh. Although he seemed to immediately realize he’d been spotted, ceasing his silent movement before you swiveled your head around to face him.
“Please, don’t let me interrupt your commentary,” he gave an innocent smile, “it’s always a treat to hear your dulcet voice.”
“I’d rather keep my thoughts to myself, thanks,” you spat, sending a glare his way before turning back to your book.
“If you’d like to travel the world, I could certainly take you,” he continued.”
“I’ll pass, Chrollo.”
“What ever happened to our little nicknames, my dove? I seem to recall you had quite the attachment to calling me Mephistopheles,” he noted, resuming his gait towards you.
You rolled your eyes, “I’ve since concluded you rather enjoy being compared to the devil, whereas I am not your dove, nor any bird you refer to me as.”
“I’m terribly sorry, my dear,” he cooed.
“I am not yours.”
“You seem to have forgotten that I have stolen you, therefore you are mine.”
“Ah!” you cried out, “I believe you’re forgetting the special word for stealing another person. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? It’s called kidnapping.”
Chrollo smirked at your words, now leaning against the wall beside you, staring down at your piece of literature.
“Believe me, treasure, I am well aware of the crimes I commit.”
“Feel free to list them,” you turned the page of your book, “I assure you, I’m listening.”
He easily plucked the book from your hand.
“Company is meant to be enjoyed, not tolerated,” he teased, returning it back to its place on the shelf. “Besides, the snow outside is stunning, is it not?”
“Of course,” you sneered. “Here, let me put on my cap and scarf, and then we can go frolic in this wonderful weather!”
“Now, now, there’s no need to get smart with me.”
“I wouldn’t dare dream of it.”
Chrollo went quiet and gave you a look, a sign for you to shut your mouth before you ruined tonight.
“I am more than willing to put on a movie tonight, given that your attitude improves,” he spoke softly, moving back towards you.
There was hidden, unspoken meaning behind his words, something you’d grown to adjust to with your snarky attitude. Behave, or you get nothing.
“...What movie do you have in mind?” you responded, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to cool your soured mood.
“I’ll give you the choice, but I’m feeling partial to a select couple. Perhaps Romeo and Juliett? Or Pride and Prejudice?”
Someone’s in a mood tonight, you thought, folding your arms.
“Pride and Prejudice is fine,” you concluded, not wanting to hear Chrollo wax on about what Shakespeare meant or didn’t mean.
“Wonderful,” he smiled, walking over to the kitchen. “Now, would you like a cup of hot chocolate, my dear? I believe it would be fantastic on such a cold day.”
“That would be nice, thank you,” you answered as politely as you could manage, well aware that a simple ‘sure’ would not be enough to earn you any specialties.
You stood from your window alcove and walked quietly towards the bedroom, attempting to do so casually and without drawing his attention.
But it was impossible to slip anything past Chrollo Lucilfer.
“Dear,” he called out, still focused on his work at the counter.
You wordlessly turned around, staring emptily at the back of his head.
“There should be a dress, a black one, on the far right of your wardrobe,” he instructed, “be a doll and put it on.”
“...Alright.”
A black dress, probably too short to be comfortable in either direction. Chrollo’s favorite pastime, of course, was getting a glimpse of the body you’d refuse to show. But this was Chrollo’s night, not your own. Never your own.
So you’ll put the dress on, just like you’ll watch the movie that Chrollo wanted, right next to him—too close to him—on the sofa. And who knows, maybe you’ll do a puzzle with him at the end of the night.
But wasn't the snow just stunning?
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renthony · 11 months
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hey!! i am genuinely curious about how the catholic church helped implement the hays code, would you be able to tell me more/do you have any good reading material about it? thanks so much!!
This has been sitting in my inbox for aaaaaages, because I want to do it justice! It's actually a big facet of my research project that I'm going to go into much, much, much more depth on, but here's the short(er) summary:
The foundational text of the Hays Code was written by two Catholics: a Jesuit priest named Father Daniel Lord, and a man named Martin Quigley, who was the editor of the Motion Picture Herald. They grounded their guidelines in Catholic morality and values, based on the idea that art could be a vehicle for evil by negatively influencing the actions of those who view it.
The original list of guidelines written by Lord and Quigley was adapted into the Production Code, popularly known as the "Hays Code" after William Hays, the president of the Production Code Administration that enforced it. As president of the PCA, William Hays appointed a staunch Catholic man called Joseph Breen to enforce the code. Breen enforced it aggressively, confiscating the original reels of films he deemed inappropriate and against the Code. Many lost films from this era are only "lost" because Joseph Breen personally had them destroyed. Some were rediscovered later, but many were completely purged from existence.
When Breen died in 1965, Variety magazine wrote, "More than any single individual, he shaped the moral stature of the American moral picture." He was a very, very big deal, and was directly responsible for censoring more films than I could even begin to list here.
In 1937, Olga J. Martin, Joseph Breen’s secretary, said, “To an impoverished country which had become religious and serious-minded, the sex attitudes of the post-war period became grotesquely unreal and antedated. The public at large wanted to forget its own derelictions of the ‘gay twenties.' The stage was set for the moral crusade.”
In 1936, once the Code was being fully enforced on filmmakers by Joseph Breen, a letter was issued by the office of Pope Pius XI that praised Breen's work, and encouraged all good Catholics to support film censorship.
The letter read in part, "From time to time, the Bishops will do well to recall to the motion picture industry that, amid the cares of their pastoral ministry, they are under obligation to interest themselves in every form of decent and healthy recreation because they are responsible before God for the moral welfare of their people even during their time of leisure. Their sacred calling constrains them to proclaim clearly and openly that unhealthy and impure entertainment destroys the moral fibre of a nation. They will likewise remind the motion picture industry that the demands which they make regard not only the Catholics but all who patronize the cinema."
Basically, this letter was a reminder from the Papal authority that bishops and priests are supposed to stop people from engaging with "lewd" or "obscene" art. That meant supporting things like the Hays Code.
So, to summarize: the original text of the Hays Code was written by two Catholics, including a priest. The biggest and most aggressive censor under the Code was a Catholic man, who had the full support and approval of the Pope at the time. Good Catholics were called en-masse to support the Hays Code, because it was intentionally written to line up with Catholic teachings.
There's a lot more to say on the subject, and if you're interested in reading more on your own, I recommend the book "Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, Immorality, and Insurrection in American Cinema, 1930-1934," by Thomas Doherty. There are plenty other sources I can recommend on request, but that's a solid place to start.
(And if I can toot my own horn, I'm intending to do a video lecture series all about American film censorship and the Hays Code. Pledging to my Patreon helps keep me fed and housed while I do all this damn research.)
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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months
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Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)
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"The path to paradise begins in hell."
— Dante Alighieri
Word count: 5.5 k
Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)
Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.
"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."
No one has ever scolded him.
He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place. 
Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.
And he's fucking confused.
He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.
"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"
"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"
She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional. 
Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.
"Y'could use the alias."
"I'm not going to call you that."
She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.
"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.
"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.
"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.
But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind. 
The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.
Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.
When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book. 
"Did you need something?"
…You. All of you. 
Now and forever.
"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"
Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.
"What about your… The mask?"
He shrugs.
"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.
"I do. But let me feed you for a change."
He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.
"Come on. Let me take you out."
"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.
…..…..…..
Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below. 
He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.
"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."
His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.
"How I'm your luxury whore."
The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.
"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"
He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.
"Was it the rookie?"
He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.
"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.
So, it was the rookie.
Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously. 
But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.
"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"
He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.
"I'm gonna go take a shower." 
"At this hour…?"
"Can't sleep anyway."
He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.
…Are you just here for sex?
Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out. 
He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her. 
The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet. 
Wet, even, if he wants.
"Baby… Honey?"
Baby.
Baby.
He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him. 
"Are you okay...?"
"Yeah."
He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.
"They're just words. Right?"
I'm more than just your whore, right?
Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness. 
"You're awfully quiet," she tries. 
Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.
"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave. 
"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."
He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.
"They're just words, Simon…"
…..…..…..
He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right. 
The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams. 
He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed. 
And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?" 
People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)
He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.
Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus. 
He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.
"Where's the rookie?"
"Getting stapled."
"Where?"
Which room? 
Which fucking room?
He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug. 
The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.
"What're you doing here?" 
His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.
"What are you doing here…? Sir."
She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately. 
"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."
Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.
"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice. 
"My office. Five minutes."
The boy dares to give him another foul look.
"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"
He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.
The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull. 
Yes, boy.
Death is coming.
"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders. 
The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.
"Simon. I just stitched him together..."
…..…..…..
He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time. 
He uses his fists and a knife.
It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.
"Get out."
He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman. 
He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.
After that, everyone salutes him feet away.
His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.
Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.
"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.
He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.
"You must be the craziest man I've ever met." 
She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.
"Good."
"...and the most incredible."
His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.
She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.
"You're a brute, Simon."
The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.
The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.
"No one's gonna call you a–"
She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.
…..…..…..
The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo. 
The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea. 
Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.
She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist. 
If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this. 
It's her. 
"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."
She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris. 
"Does anyone else know about this place?"
"No."
There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.
"I have no words for this."
"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.
Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck. 
"No. No it's not. This is paradise."
She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv. 
And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.  
She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin. 
What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?
"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"
"Pet. I know."
"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."
Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.
"They?"
"Well, John. Captain." 
Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.
"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."
He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust. 
But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.
Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.
"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.
"Love–"
"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"
"...Sure."
She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her. 
"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..." 
"Yeah. Not the perfect man."
"But you were. You are." 
"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."
"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."
He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.
But he had no fucking clue that she–
"Or during, I don't care…"
Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier. 
"Is that so?"
She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs. 
"You like that…?"
She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.
"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine. 
"Simon–"
"I'll light a cig first."
"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.
"...Roger that."
His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.
She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.
"How do you want me?"
Fucking fuck… 
He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.
Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.
"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.
It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex. 
"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.
"Want your–I need your cock…" 
She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.
"Have to go slow, love."
"Riley–for god's sake, now."
"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.
"Tried to warn ya–"
"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this. 
He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.
"Hold me tighter..." 
It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.
"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.
"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering… 
"Simon, do you love me…?"
She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.
"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.
"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"
No. No…
I fuckin' don't–
"And I'll always be here for you."
To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.
"Love, I need you to–need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.
"You're so silly…" 
"Yeah? I know." 
He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.
"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"
The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.
….….….
"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength. 
"I lied too."
"I know."
She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"
"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."
She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.
"You really don't know…?" 
"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."
She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.
"People cry from happiness too, Simon."
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dustofthedailylife · 1 year
Note
Sick stubborn anon from yesterday. Hoping I can call myself 🍓anon.
Imagine stubborn s/o adopting the slimes or other dangerous creatures?dont ask how they befriend it, they did and now it follows them around
Hiii, nonnie! Welcome back and I'm sorry I'm only now getting to your ask, I was super busy and couldn't sit down to write at all. I love this idea though, it's super adorable! I went and noted down some HCs for the men I could imagine best in this scenario. Also ofc you can call yourself 🍓anon!! I'm happy to welcome you :3
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"That Day I Befriended A Slime" ft. Xiao, Zhongli, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Childe, Diluc x Reader [Fluff, Crack]
→ Masterlist || → Taglist
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→ Xiao immediately pulls you away from the little anemo slime that trails behind you as you walk along the path of your shared home. He immediately pulls out his polearm and points it toward the little slime. It closes its eyes in panic and starts to cry and shake, flapping its little wings in terror.
"Xiao! What by the Seven are you doing?", you pout. You throw yourself between him and the slime with furrowed eyebrows, before you push the tip of his polearm away and pick the slime up to cradle it in your arms protectively. "Do you know what this is? It's dangerous!", he remarks with a sharp tone. "Dangerous?! Where? Look at it! You even made it cry..."
Needless to say, you hold a slime as a pet ever since. Although he keeps a close eye on it. Can't be too trusting.
→ Zhongli left you alone for a mere three hours and he comes back to see you kneeling in your garden and feeding bread to a geo slime. It wasn't often the ex-archon has gone into high-alert mode since he retired, but this sure is one of those situations.
"Love, get away from this thing and come back inside!", he says with evident panic in his voice as he hurries your way. He moves his arms in a swift motion making a jade shield appear around you. The geo-energy shockwave it creates sends the little slime flying backwards into the flowerbed. "Arthur no!", you yell as you hurry after the slime to pick it up again and brush the dirt off of the slime with your bare hands. "He is friendly, don't hurt him, darling! Look! He reminds me of you.", you explain with a fond smile as you hold the slime out in his direction.
Living with you surely never became boring. To Zhongli, you are a marvel he finds himself lost in every day anew. And he loved you oh so dearly.
→ Tighnari finds you tending to several plants as he arrives in Pardis Dhyai. You smile and wave in his direction excitedly as you spot him, which he mirrors. That was until he saw a pair of very familiar-looking leaves move behind you in the grass. All his hair begins to stand on end as he rushes over to you to knock you out of the way and making you clumsily fall on top of him to soften the fall.
"What's has gotten into you, T?!", you fumed as you get back up again, pat some dirt off your clothes and stare at Tighnari in disbelief. "This slime was about to attack you!", he says as he grabs his bow and begins to scan the environment. "Where did it go?" "Probably into hiding, you scared the poor thing." "Poor... thing?", he questioned in confusion. "Well yes, I've been looking after it. It's very cuddly. Look there it is." Completely baffled he watches as you hurry over the little dendro slime that was peeking up from the flowerbed.
He quietly watches in disbelief as you talk to the slime as it nuzzles into your trousers. You were truly full of surprises.
→ Alhaitham is just reading a book as you walk through the door with a big flower pot. A few leaves are sticking out at the top of it. You put the pot down on the dinner table before going into the kitchen. At first, he didn't pay it too much mind; that was until the leaves in the port started rustling and a dendro slime suddenly jumped out of it.
"What you brought home is not a plant!", Alhaitham sighed. "I know.", you simply shrugged as you came back from the kitchen with a tray of vegetables. "You know? What do you mean you know?!" "I found the little guy in the wild, he was wounded by a Rishboland Tiger just outside the city gates. I nurtured it back to health and then he started trusting me. Now I picked him up.", you explain rationally. You begin smiling excitedly as you feed some carrots to the happily gurgling slime.
He knows there was nothing that would deter you from keeping the slime, so he just quietly accepts that he now has yet another roommate. At least this one was able to be quiet, unlike a certain architect.
→ Childe sees you kneeling next to a little hydro slime as he is out on patrol. He draws his bow and gets ready to shoot and arrow at the slime that is currently nibbling on your finger.
"Step aside, love!", he demands sharply. You look over to where you find him standing, drawing an arrow with his bow with furrowed eyebrows. Before he is able to land the shot, you throw yourself over the slime, causing him to have to shoot the arrow into the air instead. You could hear a gurgly whine as the slime attempts to flee in panic. "Ajax! Stop! You're scaring it!"
He stands there dumbfounded as he watches you chase after the crying hydro slime, trying to console it. You really were one of a kind and Childe found himself falling in love with you even more again. You always managed to see the good in everything surrounding you and he admires you for it.
→ Diluc comes home late as he spots you sleeping on the sofa. There was a faint warm glow coming out of your direction and he wonders what it has to mean. As he gets closer he spots a pyro slime sleeping on top of your chest. You are clinging your arms around it in your sleep.
All alarms inside of his head went off at the same time as he quickly grabbed the flower vase on the table and started pouring the water over the slime.
"Luc, what in Celestia!", you scream as you jump up from the sofa, now soaking wet. The slime let out a gurgly whine as it crawls under the blanket, scaredly peeking up at Diluc from under it. "There was a slime lying on top of you!", he says, panic still evident in his voice. "Yeah, I know!! I met it today and it jumped into my lap cuddling with me. So I took it home!"
He stood there completely flabbergasted. How did you even manage to befriend a slime? He has never heard such a thing was possible. But yet again, you were special in any meaning of the word. He knew as much by now. So he shouldn't even be surprised.
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Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always appreciated!
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kurogane2512 · 8 months
Note
On my knees begging for how genshin women (yae, ei, signora) would react to their girlfriend slipping up and accidentally calling them mommy (nsfw)
This was so fun to write I love it
18+ CONTENT MDNI
Game: Genshin Impact
Characters: Raiden Ei, Yae Miko, La Signora x fem!reader (separate)
Type: Smut and Fluff (calling them mommy, fingering, strap usage, edging, overstimulation, grinding)
Raiden Ei
Genuinely, I believe she wouldn't get the innuendo behind it at first. Don't blame the poor Archon she had been in isolation for centuries and is still learning modern ways. The first time you utter it, she'll be confused as to why you called her your mother then sweetly forgive you. It won't be until Yae tells her the real meaning that she truly wants to hear it again
A pleasant and serene evening at Inazuma, you were cradled against you lover at Tenshukaku, blissfully enjoying each other's presence and comfort. Well, perhaps you liked it a bit too much...
"Mm...mommy~" you whispered against Ei's neck in a daze, making her confused. She watched your cheeks turn red as you opened your eyes and looked at her in embarrassment, she simply chuckled looking at you and patted your head.
"Hehe, I'm not your mother, Y/n~"
"S-Sorry, I didn't mean it..."
"It's alright. I'm glad to know you feel so relaxed with me."
You felt relieved inside as you saw that she didn't understand the meaning, nodding at her with a smile and continuing to cuddle. The next day, the Archon was seated at the Grand Narukami Shrine with her Kitsune familiar, sharing some dango and a cup of tea.
"How are things going with Y/n?" Yae asked.
"Oh, everything is good. Haha, that reminds me of an interesting occurrence from yesterday~"
"Oh? Care to share?~"
"Hehe, she accidentally called me her mother yesterday. It was rather cute; she became really embarrassed after~"
Yae looked at her wide-eyed before smirking and leaning closer, "What did she say exactly? What were you both doing?"
"We were just....cuddling like normal and she happened to utter 'mommy'. I think she simply felt really relaxed."
Yae's smirk widened and she raised her eyebrow before chuckling, "Oh, Ei. Now I feel bad for poor Y/n~"
Ei looked at her friend confused before Yae proceeded bring a novel from her publishing house and handed it to Ei with a particular page open. Ei's brows furrowed before she accepted and read the contents of the book, Yae watched her in amusement as Ei's face turned redder reading each paragraph.
"T-This is....are you sure she meant this, Miko?"
"Hehe~ Why don't you find out?~"
The following evening, the two of you were entangled in each other at Ei's private chamber. Her kimono hung low exposing her breasts while you kissed her neck and made your way down her body. She remembered Yae's words then suddenly held your head and pulled you up before pecking your lips.
"Y/n, I wanted to ask something...."
You smiled and gently embraced her by snuggling into her neck, "Go ahead."
"Yesterday....when you....c-called me mommy, did you mean something....specific?"
You swiftly looked at her out of embarrassment, "W-What do you mean?"
"W-Well, I read it in a novel....certain ways of referring to your partner in some kind of roleplay or simply preference...."
"I....I-I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I d-didn't—"
"No, I didn't hate it! In fact, if you want to call me that then I don't mind...."
Looking at each other flustered, you slowly nodded and rested your head in her soft bosom before beginning to rut against her. She let out low moans as her legs wrapped around your waist and held you tightly while you continued rubbing your clit with hers.
"Mommy....mommy....i-it feels so good...."
A warm feeling evoked in Ei's chest hearing your needy moans, "You are doing so well....mhm~ M-My baby....that's it....cum for your mommy~"
You slowly let go of your restraints and rutted faster, pressing your cores together and grinding hard. Soft moans and whimpers filled the room, affectionate names spilling from your lips.
"Mommy....I want to c-cum...cum with me...."
"D-Do it, my darling....make your mommy cum~"
You hissed as she rutted her hips into you before you quickened your pace as well, desperately rubbing against each other. You moaned loudly and pressed your cunts together as you came, her own release following after making your juices mix. You panted out and gazed at each other before sharing a passionate kiss.
Yae Miko
You just know she will tease you about it and make you say it again and again. She will be slightly surprised the first time you say it but quickly accept the new title, will definitely tease you about it in public and make you scream it in private.
Late night at the Grand Narukami Shrine, you were visiting your girlfriend when the two of you returned to her quarters and engaged in passionate lovemaking. It eventually led to her pinning you on the bed and pounding into your wet cunt with her strap.
"Ah~ Ah~ M-Miko....please....s-slow down! I can't anymore!~"
"Oh, you can, little one~ Come now, give me your cute reactions~"
Yae smirked as she gazed at your fucked out state, you had lost count of how many orgasms she drew from you but she wasn't stopping. Your legs felt sort and your walls continued to spasm from your previous release, yet looking at the Guuji above you and realizing she was your girlfriend never failed to make you want it more.
"Aahn~ Mommy....m-more!~"
Your eyes snapped open at your surprising words, Yae's thrusts also slowed for a moment hearing them. But before you could speak anything else, she was pounding into you even harder.
"Oh my~ My little one is quite dirty-minded it seems. I wonder....hah...i-if you read some novels from my collection?~"
"N-No! I didn't— Aah!~"
"Hehe~ How shameful. Looks like your mommy has to correct your sinful ways now~"
She flipped you making you lie on your stomach all of a sudden before thrusting her cock again. Your voice cried out and she slammed her hips faster now, your skin slapping against each other.
"P-Please....no more! Aah~ M-Miko—"
"Oh, that's not the correct word, my sweetheart. Don't make your mommy remind you again~"
You pursed your lips before giving in to your desires, "M-Mommy!~ Please....I'm cumming....please mommy!~"
"Good girl~ Leave everything to your mommy~"
Yes, she loves it a little too much.
La Signora
She will be shocked hearing it at first, she can't believe you see her that way. But she loves it so much, she definitely wants to hear it more. But she won't give in so easily, she'll mock and tease you about it all the while keeping you on the edge. Will start with degradation then slowly turn to praises as she fully accepts it. In the end, she will genuinely wonder if you see her that way and why- a sign of her insecurity, and you have to tell her she's perfect for it~ (personally I see her more of a mistress person btw but mmm mommy has my bias for sure).
After a stressful day filled with meetings and headaches from her colleagues, the Fair Lady just wants to confide in her office with you in her arms. She immediately grabbed you the moment she entered her office and pushed you on the table before beginning to kiss you all over.
She's all over you, trapping your figure between herself and the table. Her lips make desperate kisses on your face, her knee nestled between your legs and rubbing your core. You know she's doing it intentionally, but you can't do anything until she starts touching you herself. She's taking her time, relishing your lips and body first.
Her hands unbutton your shirt and pulls it down to expose your neck and chest, she immediately dives in to make her marks on you. She comes closer and hikes her leg up, earning a stifled moan from you due to the stimulation. She smirks to herself feeling your wetness seep on her knee and licks your ear before whispering, "Already so wet. Are you that desperate to be touched?~"
"Y-Yes....please...."
"Please what? You have to do better than that~"
"P-Please....touch me....mhm~"
"Are you really giving me an order? Do I have to teach you your place?~"
She's making you restless now, you can't take it anymore.
"P-Please mommy! Please touch me!~"
She suddenly stops all her movements; did she hear you right? Did you really just say that? It's amusing to her, but also slightly embarrassing.
"You..." she leans away to look at your face before smirking and grabbing your jaw, "What a shameful way to address your superior~"
Her other hand slips past your underwear and touches your clit, a surprised gasp leaving you as you hold on to her.
"Do I really have to teach you basic manners again, hm?~"
She circles your clit in slow motions, making you more desperate as juices keep spilling from your cunt.
"P-Please....more...m-mommy....ngh!~"
She's surprised once again and leans in to bite your neck, "Not stopping, are you? Do you want to be punished that badly?~"
"....Y-Yes....mommy....punish me~"
Oh, you have done it now. She swiftly turns you over and pushes you against the desk as she leans on your back and her hand dips inside your underwear again. Her body presses against you, back arching into her but she keeps you pinned as she fingers you. Your walls clench around her fingers, spasming as she scissors them and thrusts in and out.
"Didn't think my best and brightest would stoop to such a level. But I can't deny this state of yours is quite tempting. Go on, cum for your mommy~"
Her sultry seductive voice whispers in your ear before she licks your lobe making your walls clench more as you unexpectedly release, your cum coating her fingers. As you calm down and begin to look back at her, you see a surprising look on her face. Her usual confident smirk is gone, her eye softens and she looks almost guilty.
"R-Rosa? Are you okay?"
"Y/n....did you really mean it? What you called me just now, do you really see me that way?"
You are surprised at her question but soon realize why she's asking this; after all, she's only ever been known as a witch.
"Yes....I do. I....I love you and....y-you treat me with so much love and care....I c-can't help but see you that way....U-Unless you find it uncomfortable then—"
She kisses you before you can finish, "No...it's okay, I'm fine with it. You can use it more...."
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age gap and daddy kink with jake?! maybe human scientist and jake becomes obsessed with how small she is and he has her call him daddy all the time, even in front of others 🤭🫣
😩😩😩😩😩😩
The reason Jake had initially been drawn to you was because of how much you reminded him of Earth. Sure, he had many unpleasant memories about the place, but he also had some pretty amazing ones. And you, with your young, soft human body, less than half his size, almost fifteen years younger, your pretty little ribbons in your hair, the little skirts you wore—it drove him insane.
Part of him was just allured to you. He couldn't stay away.
He made his every intention very clear, with his every visit to the lab, his flirtatious touches on your back, your face, your thighs. He liked to flirt with you, like to make you blush, liked to toss in a dirty joke every now and then just so he could see you get all flustered over it.
It was pretty obvious you were into him as well. No surprise there, he'd pulled every trick in the book in hopes to catch your attention. And it had payed off.
Not a month after you two meet, Jake decides to visit you at the lab one night. He's surprised to find you all alone in your bedroom, curled up on the bed as you read, wearing a thin tank top and a pair of tiny shorts for pajamas.
He smirks at himself as he playfully knocks on the doorframe. You glance up, smiling softly when you see him.
“Jake,” you say, surprised. He can hear your heart begin to race, it makes him grin a cocky, sleek grin. “I wasn't expecting you.”
“I can tell,” he chuckles, his eyes studying your body, your thighs bare beneath your shorts, your nipples poking against your top. He doesn't even bother to hide it; he makes a show out of looking you up and down, his cock twitching when you blush and squirm under his gaze.
You stand from your bed, arranging your hair, licking your lips nervously before asking, “Do you need anything?”
Jake shakes his head, stepping into your room, towering way over you, his eyes still staring at you. “Just wanted to see ya, kid.”
Your blush deepens, obviously flattered and flustered. “Oh?”
Jake closes the bedroom door and walks past you, moving to sit on the bed, and he just studies your bedroom. Everything smells of you, everything is just so you...it makes something inside of him grow warm and also...a tad predatory, feral with the need to make you his.
“I been thinkin' 'bout you lately,” he admits, meeting your curious gaze. “Kinda hard to get a pretty thing like you outta my mind.”
You laugh, bashful, eyes darting to the floor, as you question, “What do you mean?”
Jake smiles, reaching for you, his huge hands grabbing you by the waist and pulling you to him. You swallow, eyes growing wide, your breath hitching.
“Jake?” you question, pretty doe eyes fluttering down to his lips for a split second before you meet his gaze again.
His smirk grows. “C'mon, kid,” he chuckles. “Y'know I want ya. I've made it real fuckin' obvious, hm?” He leans closer to you, his breath fanning across your face. “The only question is if you'll have me.”
You raise an eyebrow, coy. “You're not wondering whether or not I want you?”
Jake laughs softly. “I know you want me, darlin'. I can smell it. I've been smelling it for weeks now.”
You look surprised for a split second before your expression turns embarrassed, and you smile at him gently. “Touché.”
Jake's eyes are having a hard time staying on your face. Your lips are just so close, so ready for him to kiss...
“Well?” he asks. “Are you going to stop me?”
You lick your lips, glancing away from him nervously. One of his enormous fingers taps you under your chin to make you glance up at him. “Hm?” he insists.
You shake your head. Breathlessly, you say, “I'm not gonna stop you.”
Jake smirks as he effortlessly picks you up and places you on his lap, his humongous thigh rubbing against your pussy through your shorts.
You gasp softly, placing your little hands on his shoulders. Jake's hands splay over your hips, rocking you front and back against the hard muscle of his thigh. Your nails dig into his shoulders, eyes widened as you watch him.
Jake licks your jaw and then kisses down your neck. He loves how tiny you are compared to him, how he's a whole lot fucking taller, a whole lot fucking stronger, a whole lot fucking bigger.
You feel like a rag doll in his grip, something he could just toss around and use, something so fragile and delicate in his rough, calloused hands.
Something he shouldn't have. Something too young and innocent and sweet for him. And yet, there's nothing stopping him from ruining you. So, he plans to do just that.
Ruin you. Make you his. His, his, his.
The mere idea has his cock hardening under his loincloth. It pokes against your thigh, and the feel of it—so large, so fucking enormous—makes you gasp.
Jake chuckles at your surprise, rubbing his massive hands on your thighs to soothe you. “It's okay. Relax, kid,” he says. “Nothing has to happen, alright?”
You meet your eyes with his, your gaze dark and sultry. “You're not gonna put it inside?” you question, sounding disappointed.
Jake raises an eyebrow. “I don't think it'll fit in you, hon,” he tells you, fingers squeezing your thighs.
“But I want it inside,” you complain, making pretty puppy eyes at him. “Please?”
You're 22, Jake can't help himself. It's the fact that you're so young, that you can be so naive, that you're giving him the chance to corrupt you...He smirks. “'f you call me daddy, I might consider it, sweet.”
You blush softly, heart racing, but obey nonetheless. “Please, Daddy,” you say, and Jake's eyes flutter shut at the way the word leaves your pretty mouth.
“Goddamn,” he groans, bouncing his thigh against your pussy, making you gasp quietly. “Yeah, 'm definitely going to put it inside.”
He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ignored the chance to fuck you and have you call him daddy.
He lifts you from his lap and places you on the bed. He undresses you, revealing your tits as he pulls your top off, then exposing your pretty pussy as he tugs your shorts away. He's delighted to find you're wearing a pair of pretty pink lace panties, tiny and soft, and his cock twitches at the sight.
“You got lube 'round here, darlin'?” he asks you as he curls his hands around your thighs, pushing them open before he leans his face into your pussy, inhaling your sweet scent.
You arch your back, gasping softly, and say, “In the—in the third drawer.”
Jake kisses your lower stomach, smirking, before he gets off the bed, moving to your desk. He opens the drawer and finds not only a bottle of lube, but also a pretty rabbit vibrator.
He can feel his body aching with lust. He chuckles, grabbing both the bottle and the toy, before turning to you.
You're on the bed, legs planted against the mattress, thighs spread, as you watch him. When you see what he has in his hand, your eyes widen.
“I-I forgot I left that in there,” you admit, your gaze locked on the vibrator.
Jake's grin grows cocky, spreading over his gorgeous face, making you drip even more. He climbs on the bed, positioning himself between your legs as he says, “Have you ever used this while thinkin' of me, angel?”
You swallow, a blush spreading across your face and neck, as you nod slowly. “Yes,” you reply.
Jake slaps your thigh sharply, making you gasp. “Yes, what?”
You correct, “Yes, Daddy.”
“Much better,” he allows, studying the vibrator for a moment before turning it on. As the toy rumbles quietly in your room, you clench your thighs together, doe eyes locked on his famished gaze. He pushes your legs open and places the toy against your pussy, the vibrations purring against you through your thin panties.
You groan, biting your lower lip, and Jake watches your pretty face. He hooks a finger around the edge of your panties and pulls them off, leaving your soaked pussy bare.
He then slides the toy between your folds, making you shudder, before he slides it in, the shaft slipping into you with ease, the little ear pressing against your clit.
“Wanna make you come 'fore I stick my cock in you, girl,” he hums, thrusting the toy in and out, the vibrations muffled by your soaked pussy.
You mewl, hands digging into the bed sheets below, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Why?” you complain. “Jus' fuck me.”
Jake chuckles, simply fucking you with the toy, knowing he has to get you all nice and open if he plans on filling you up. “Trust me, hm? Trust daddy, baby.”
You nod. “I-I trust you,” you promise. “But I want your cock, Daddy. I just need you.”
“Shh,” Jake coos, kissing your calf. “I'll make it worth your while, kid.”
You nod again, allowing him to fuck you with the toy. Your pussy clenches tight around the object, your slick dripping down your thighs to the bed.
The vibrations are quick to make you weak, easily causing your pleasure to grow at a merciless rate. It has you gasping and moaning, the toy making the ecstasy coil low in your stomach.
Jake's predatory eyes are locked on your cunt, on how the toy slips inside you with ease, how your slick drips out slowly, the scent thick.
You glance down. When you see the look in Jake's eyes, a shudder slides up your body, making you moan.
He smirks at himself, placing soft, wet kisses across your thighs, licking your skin. He revels in the way you jerk at his touch, in the way you roll your hips against the toy.
“Daddy,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut. “Daddy!”
You start to tremble, the pleasure making your body quiver. Your pussy is so wet, the toy causes it to squelch as Jake fucks you with the vibrator. He drags his canines over the skin of your thigh, making you mewl.
“Fuck!” you cry, gasping. “Daddy! Please!” you beg.
“I know, girl,” Jake says, gently biting your inner thigh, making you squeal. “I know. Come for me, angel. Come for daddy.”
You whimper, back arching as the pleasure rattles your every nerve. It grows within you, stretching out all over your body, and then your orgasm crashes over you, making you mewl. You gasp, writhing, as Jake drags your pleasure out, helping you ride out your high on the toy.
You're so sensitive, and Jake just keeps the toy inside you, still turned on, which makes you cry. “No! 's too much, Daddy. Please.”
Jake chuckles softly as he pulls the toy out of you. He turns it off and then licks it, tasting your arousal.
His cock is impossibly hard, balls aching with the need to spill their load inside your pretty, tiny pussy.
He removes his loincloth which is sticky with the precum that drips from the tip of his cock. Your eyes are quick to fall to his naked body, eyes widening at his width, and his length.
You're a little nervous about it fitting, a little nervous about it hurting, but the sight of it, the knowledge of how much bigger Jake is than you makes you excited, your body already growing aroused again.
Jake grabs the bottle of lube in his hand and spills a generous amount on his cock, smearing it all over his shaft. Then he spills some on your pussy, working it around your entrance with his thick fingers.
Your eyes are wide, chest heaving and falling with each heavy breath.
Jake runs the huge head of his cock between your folds before prodding at your entrance. He holds your gaze, saying, “'f you want me t'stop, you tell me right away, kid.”
You nod. “Okay,” you reply, breathless.
And then Jake's sinking into you, his cock forcing you open. Pain rings through your body as he stretches you out. You gasp, mewling softly, little tears forming in the corner of your eyes. And then, the head of his cock pushes inside you, making you jerk, and the pain dissipates.
Jake's ears are flattened against his head, your tiny pussy so fucking tight and warm around him. “You good, sweetheart?” he asks, studying your face.
You nod gently, body rolling in search of more friction. “Deeper,” you beg.
Jake chuckles softly before he carefully sinks the rest of his cock into you. At first, you think he really won't fit. But then, slowly, your pussy stretches more, taking him—all of him. Next thing you know, Jake's hips meet yours, his heavy balls pressing against your folds.
You whimper, eyes rolling into the back of your head. He's so big, so fucking enormous. He dwarfs you, his body so much larger, his strength outweighing yours by a long shot.
Jake grabs you by the thighs and lifts you until your ass is resting on his lap. Then, he starts thrusting into you, which makes you cry out, tears of pleasure spilling from your pretty eyes.
“Fuck,” he groans, fingers digging into your soft skin. “Oh, you're so good, angel. Look at this pretty pussy, taking me like it was made for me. Goddamn.”
“Daddy,” you cry. “Fuck! 's so good!”
Jake watches you, your breasts bouncing with every thrust, your eyes shut tight, pretty tears staining down your face. You're so tiny, so small, your pussy barely able to fit him. He loves it.
“You're my good girl, aren't you?” he says, licking his lips. “My pretty girl.”
“Yes!” you gasp, trembling, his cock bruising your insides, your womb almost purring from how stuffed you are. “Yes, Daddy!”
The nickname makes Jake grunt, cock twitching inside of you. It's something about the way you say it, about how beautiful you are, about how your doe eyes don't give away a single drop of this dirty side of yours.
“So fuckin' gorgeous,” he says. The sound of skin on skin loud in your room. His balls slap against your puffy folds, making you squeal. His cock drags against your g-spot with ease, and you squirm under him. “So fuckin' perfect f'r me, kid.”
“'m yours!” you gasp, toes curling. “Daddy, 'm yours!”
Jake chuckles. “Yeah, I know you are, kid. I know you're mine,” he replies, one of his enormous hands splaying over your lower stomach, pressing down. You gasp as you feel even fuller, Jake's cock ready to sink right into your womb.
You tighten around Jake and he groans, digging his fingers into your delicate thighs, surely bruising the flesh. Under the palm of his massive hand, he can feel his cock bulging in your womb, rocking back and forth with every thrust. There's something about how dirty it all is, how you're letting him fuck you when he's almost double your fucking size, that drives him feral.
He bares his teeth, hissing in ecstasy, sharp canines showing. You peek your eyes open to look at him, and it's the way he's so fucking predatory at times, how he looks insanely feral, almost out of control that has you close to the edge.
“Daddy!” you mewl, trembling. “Fuck! Fuck!” Stars are glowing behind your eyelids, your ears are ringing, and every rough thrust of Jake's knocks the air from your lungs.
“Goddamn, 'm so deep in you,” Jake groans, your gummy walls clamping down on him. “So deep in this pretty pussy. Fuck.”
You cry out, sobbing from the bliss. “Please! Need y'to make me come!” you beg, your entire body quaking from the unbearable pleasure. It coils low in your stomach, stretching out, feeling like liquid fire that sears your womb in the best way.
“I know, kid. Imma make you come, alright?” he promises. “You're gonna come all over my cock, 'nd then I'm gonna fill y'up.”
You mewl at his words, pussy growing tighter, and Jake quirks an eyebrow. “You like that idea? You want daddy t'fill you up with his cum? Hm?”
“Yes!” you exclaim, tears blurring your vision as you try to meet Jake's gaze. “Daddy! Make me come! Please! 'm so close.”
Jake keeps his thrusts steady, placing his thumb over your clit and giving the little nub some much-deserved attention. You squeal at the sensation, the fire within you spreading all across your skin until you feel like you're going to lose consciousness. And just when you think you can't take anymore, when you feel like you're going to die, you come, squirting all over Jake. Your orgasm wrecks you, leaves you only half-awake, stars dancing behind your eyelids, black crowding at the edges of your vision.
Jake gasps softly as you come, his eyes trained on your slick that drips down his hips from your orgasm. You're so tight around him, so small and warm—
His orgasm crashes over him, making him shudder and grunt, “God fucking damn.” His load spills into you, thick ropes of cum that spurt right into your womb, his balls releasing all of his seed into your eager cunt.
You gasp at the sensation, but are too weak to do anything but lie there and take it.
As you two come down from your highs, Jake pulls out of you gently, watching his cum torrent out of you, dribbling to the bed sheets below.
Jake kisses your body softly, gently, and asks, “You okay, baby?”
You nod, breathing heavily, still too fucked out to talk.
Jake tends to you the rest of the night, massaging your muscles, kissing your skin, cleaning you up.
And ever since then, he can't stay away from you. He just about spends more time in the lab than he does in the forest. He loves taking you with him to the village. He'll hold your tiny hand in his huge one and lead you through the wonders of Pandora.
And what's more, he doesn't respond to any other nickname from you if it's not daddy. At the beginning, he settled for you calling him daddy only in the bedroom. But then, one day, it slipped out of you while you were visiting the village. Ever since, Jake insists on you calling him daddy for anything and everything.
He likes it. Likes how it emphasizes the fact that you're his. That he's the only one who gets to hold you, kiss you, fuck you, love you.
He loves that everyone can tell you're his.
Daddy's little girl.
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Not me frrrr getting carried away affff and writing like 3k words on this 🤭🤭🤭🤭
I just want to call Jake daddy, is that too much to ask?????!!!!! 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩
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@kamcrazy123 @yagirlheree @sweetllamaparadise
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2K notes · View notes
elllisaaa · 13 days
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this is so sunghoon </3
you're so real for this sweetie, i couldn't agree more and you know how much we love the sunghoon x bookworm agenda in this house so here we go again 🤭
SUNGHOON who always feed on your obsession for books and literature, spoiling you with a new one every chance he gets. he loves how sparkly your eyes become when you talk on and on about the new book that you finished, and he loves to see you so passionate about it, he could literally listen to you during hours.
what he does not like though is how he asked you to get ready for your date night almost one hour ago and how you're still in your pyjamas, laying in bed with your book. when sunghoon asks you for the ninth time when you plan on starting to prepare yourself to go out, you claim once again that you just want to finish this chapter. and when he asks you one more time and you answer the same thing again, sunghoon cannot take it anymore.
"hoon ? what are you doing ?" you asked, confused, as he climbed on the bed, settling between your legs and spreading them. you try to push his hands away but his grip is too strong.
"i'm teaching you a lesson, since you're too smitten by your book to listen to me." your voice and the protestation you were about to let out die quickly in your throat, replaced by a loud moan when sunghoon fingers pinch your clitoris harshly through the material of your panties. "you're going to read out loud for me doll, and don't dare miss a word or i'm not letting you cum."
you knew better than to answer him directly, only nodding your head at him as he pulled your panties off your body. you were only wearing one of his shirts now, while sunghoon was already in his pretty outfit, hair neatly done. and the way he looked at you through his lashes when he dived into your cunt had you moaning uncontrollably.
but you still tried to follow his commands, reading each word carefully however very slowly. with each passing second, your voice was shaking more and more, your hands barely holding your book up.
"hoon, please…" your plea forced your boyfriend to detach himself from your pussy, his lips swollen and covered in your juices. but that didn't stop him from landing a harsh slap on your cunt, making you cry out and almost drop your book. "i don't think your book says that babydoll. stay focused" and the smirk on his face is just as annoying as it's attractive. you want to wipe it out and at the same time, all you want is for his mouth to be back on you. and he does just that, gaining another noise of pleasure from you.
and you really try your best, but the way sunghoon is eating you out like a starved man while pinning your hips down to the mattress is driving you crazy. you can feel his cocky smile against your folds when your speech starts to get slurred, far too fucked out to form a coherent sentence or even see the words on the page in front of you anymore. "i-i can't hoon ! need to cum, please, please ! i'm- aah !" - "you're so miserable with only my tongue, it's cute."
tears begin to gather in your eyes when he starts teasing you with his fingers too, the pleasurable feeling ultimately becoming too much. you didn't even make the effort to read anymore, your vision too blurry to see anything in front of you. you tossed it to the side, taking a hold of sunghoon's hair instead, only able to whine and beg at this point.
"you're such a brat, but whenever i touch you, you lose all your attitude, isn't that funny doll ?" sunghoon loves how you're only able to moan in response. "come on, cum on my tongue since you've been a good girl." that was all you needed to let go, messing up his perfect hairstyle but sunghoon couldn't care less as he reminded you once again how much better than your little books he was.
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stayinlimbo · 25 days
Text
Returned Call
wc: 765, genre: exes to lovers(?), warnings: cursing in beginning, slightly unedited
note: although i feel this could be read as a stand-alone, here is the sequel to Missed Call you guys were asking for. i hope you enjoy ♡
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Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system: You know. Lee Minho. Not available. Voicemail. Speak. 
Fuck you, Lee Minho. No, seriously, fuck you. 
Tell me why I was contacted by not one but three of your dancing buddies within the past twenty-four hours about how you’ve been moping around and trudging through your routines for the past week. 
They were all essentially the same. You haven’t been the same since we broke up, is there any way we could reconnect, give you one more chance, blah blah blah. 
You must be doing really bad if one of them was Hyunjin, of all people. 
Two months too late, don’t you think?
As if any of this was my fault.
I was getting better before you called, you know?
I finally fixed my sleep schedule. I won’t lie, it took longer than I’d like to admit to break the habit of staying up late for you. At least I was already used to sleeping alone. 
I reconnected with some old friends since I couldn’t talk to Jisung as much without being reminded of you. They can still read me like a book, even after all these years.
I even went on a date. 
Granted, it was with myself, but I like to think it still counts.  
You know what I realized on my “date?” And while out with my friends? And on the sleepless nights I spent staring up at my childhood bedroom’s ceiling?
I had forgotten what it felt like to be seen. To be appreciated. To be loved. 
It seems like you’ve come to that conclusion as well, because you’re right. I deserved better. I deserve better. I may have ended our relationship, but I wasn’t the one who left first.
I remember our last kiss, paired with another one of your lies I foolishly kept believing in until I finished the movie night you promised you’d be home in time for. And I remember waking up on the couch with a sore neck to see your fatigued silhouette entering the front door, barely sparing me a glance as you dragged yourself towards the bedroom. 
You didn’t even look sorry. 
How could you, I guess, if you left everything back at the studio?
I used to admire your passion, Minho. I hate that I still do. You pour everything you have, everything you can possibly give, into what you love. So why couldn’t you do the same for us? For me?
You say you love me, but why does it feel like I lost something I'm not sure I ever had? 
Where did we go wrong? What did I do wrong? I gave everything to you. I gave you my heart, my body, my entire being. I gave you everything until there was nothing left to give.
I never asked for anything outlandish. I think it’s reasonable to want to talk with your partner, to share your lives with one another. I think it’s reasonable to ask about when you’ll be home for our anniversary without being yelled at in front of your friends. 
You want me to be proud of you? You want me to be happy about one of the very things that ripped us apart?
Yes, you’re selfish, but I’m no better. 
Maybe this is my fault. After all, no one should feel obligated to love someone. I just never thought it’d apply to us. 
…I wish I could hate you. I really do. 
But all I see is your stupid face smiling at me when I close my eyes. I hear your laugh ringing in my ears when I remember the ways you said or did something ridiculous to make me feel better after a stressful day. I still feel the warmth of your body wrapped around mine when we did wake up next to each other, our legs entwined together to where it was impossible to escape. Not that I ever wanted to. 
I want you to keep smiling at me. I want you to hold me. I want you to miss me. I want you to want me. 
Because I still want you. 
I want to give you a second chance, Minho. If things could be different this time, if we could be different. If we could share ourselves, wholeheartedly, as lovers, and not strangers.
I want to fall in love with you again, Lee Minho. 
Call me back, when you get the chance. You can keep the shirts for now.
Just please, don’t make me regret this.
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ending note: I hope this didn't disappoint. I really tried my best to make it work with all the angst in here :D. I also tried incorporating parallels from Missed Call so hopefully that wasn't too annoying or anything <3
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