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charliemwrites · 5 months

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Part 5 (it’s getting out of control) of Charmed Slasher Simon.

Part 4 is here. (Master list coming soon)

(Slight warning for a coworker being a bit of a pushy creep but Simon handles it)

“Riiiiileyyyy.”

Ah, that’s your naughty voice. It means he’s going to want to do awful, terrible things to you out of pure endearment for your cheek.

He turns, arches an eyebrow as you nearly skip up to him. Your hair is shorter.

“New haircut?” he asks as if his fingers aren’t twitching to bury in it and pull your head back.

“Yup! Thought about dyeing it orange, but decided it would clash with my flat.”

He snorts, gives in to the urge to curl a strand around his finger, watches it bounce back into place. You don’t seem to mind, sticking your cute little tongue out at him. (If you’re not careful, he’s going to put you on your knees and have you wrap it around his cock right there.)

“Sensible choice,” he replies, “yellow is more your color.”

You giggle, aren’t bothered by his flat, almost inflectionless tone. “You think?”

“Highlighter yellow. Or maybe banana.”

“Hey, I like bananas!”

He smirks. “Oh yeah? Big ones?”

You shove at him, face going hot. He doesn’t move an inch, not that you were trying hard. Touchy little thing. You remind him of those little birds that flutter around lions, picking and pecking right under their noses, amusing themselves with death.

“Don’t be icky, Riley.”

“Icky.”

“Gross nasty.”

“We’re name calling now?”

“It’s not name calling if it’s true.”

He clicks his tongue, ushers you into the building.

“There a reason for the new hair?” he asks, eyeing it. It’s pretty, don’t get him wrong. But he didn’t know you were getting your hair cut today.

“Fancy office party tonight,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “My stylist just managed to get me in, but now I’ve gotta rush to get ready.”

“Now who said you could go out?”

“What are you gonna do, stop me?” you laugh, clearly thinking he’s teasing. He’s not. If you looked at his face, you’d know it. But you’re busy fussing with your keys, trying to unlock your door.

“I might.”

“Oh, you stop,” you huff, shaking your head. “It’s not even movie night!”

He’s been coming over once a week to watch a movie and drink with you. One of you picks the movie, the other picks the takeaway. He always chooses a horror movie, likes how your eyes water when you get truly scared. You refuse to watch slashers (haven’t told ‘Riley’ why) but you’ll indulge paranormal ones.

It’s not movie night - those are on Saturdays. This is Friday.

“What if I just kidnap you?” he asks. “Keep you in all weekend?”

You hum as if in thought, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Could I go back to work on Monday?”

“Have to see how I’m feeling on Sunday.”

You giggle. “A tempting offer, but you’ll have to settle for kidnapping me just for Saturday.”

“I don’t think you understand how kidnapping works.”

“I’d be a terrible hostage,” you say. He arches an eyebrow, inviting you to continue. “I have to pee when I’m nervous, I’d be talking their ear off - and! I cry like, so much.”

Oh he knows. He thinks of tears running down your pretty face when he cums.

“Some kidnappers like the crying. Theyre sadists.”

You scrunch your face. “But it’s like… gross crying. Total mess. And I make dying seal noises.”

No, you don’t, not in his experience with you at least. But he’s not going to explain that to you.

“Didn’t you have something to get ready for?” he asks because he’s violently wrestling the urge to make good on his threat.

“Fuck!” You glance at your watch, brows scrunching. “If I’m late, I’m blaming you, Riley Simmons.”

“Oh no.”

You stick your tongue out at him one last time and disappear behind your door.

—

He hears you come back at 11:30, has been waiting up. Pauses when he hears two sets of footsteps, a man’s voice talking to you. A wave of bloodlust nearly drowns his better sense.

You brought someone home from a work event? Did you lie to him and go on a date?

“Well, thanks for walking me to my door, Brandon.”

“Was happy to. Don’t want anyone snatching you up off the street now, do we?” An annoying laugh. Yours sounding a little flat and strained joining him.

“Oh, hey, mind if I come in?” Brandon asks. So casually, as if the yes is expected.

Simon’s hands ball into tight fists.

“Ah, it’s pretty late…”

“Well, that’s what Saturday is for, right?”

Oh. That little roach. Simon’s going to hang him by his own guts.

“I have plans tomorrow, actually.”

Good girl.

“That’s alright,” Brandon persists. “Just one drink. Least you can do since I went out of my way, right?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to, I would have been fine.”

There’s some genuine annoyance in your voice this time. Simon’s proud.

“Nah, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go home after having drinks?” Brandon chuckles.

“I didn’t have that many - and anyway I’m here now, so…”

“And so am I. At least a little something for my troubles?”

And Simon hears just the slightest, faintest ruffle of clothes.

That’s enough.

Simon yanks his door open and steps out. You’re nearly pancaked to your own door, head snapping to him with relief.

“Riley!”

Brandon takes a step back, expression stormy. Simon almost laughs. Little prick is barely taller than you, has done hard work maybe twice in his life. His hands look softer than yours. And he’s wearing a sweater vest.

“Did we wake you up?” you ask.

Simon saunters down the hall towards you. The closer he gets, the more nervous Brandon gets. But you seem to relax a bit more with each step, even shift towards him.

Very good girl.

“Was already up.” He doesn’t look away from Brandon, radiating menace.

You hum in understanding - know Simon keeps late hours. Brandon clears his still-intact throat and you jolt a bit, expression wilting.

“Oh, um. Riley this is my coworker. Brandon, this is Riley, my neighbor.”

“How do you do?” Brandon replies stiffly.

Simon’s not playing along.

“You try to push her again, someone will be pushing you in a wheelchair the rest of your life. Understand?”

Brandon sputters while your eyes go adorably wide, expression caught between horror and gratitude. Like you don’t know if you should be condoning his threats.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Not yet, but you will if I see you here again, yeah?”

Brandon’s face drains of blood. You press your lips together.

“Now get the fuck out. I’ve got her from here.”

Brandon, worm that he is, scurries away with a hasty “see you Monday”. You don’t reply, too busy blinking up at Simon with parted lips.

He chucks you gently under the chin, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Off to bed. I’m kidnapping you tomorrow.”

You audibly swallow, then nod.

“Thank you.”

“Good manners.”

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #slasher ghost #charmed ghost #final girl reader

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jungkookstatts · 7 months

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What We Need

[Summary]: You and Jungkook are polar opposites. Except in the bedroom. You two agreed to just sex after breaking up, realizing that your personalities weren't working in the dating world. But the world has warned you that fuckbuddies never truly stay as fuckbuddies.

[Theme]: Non Idol AU, Ex's AU, Fuckbuddies AU, Enemies to Lovers(?) AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes and innuendoes. Spanking, marking, kissing, nasty time. Demon JK.

[Word Count]: 2,143

[A/N]: I am filthy, sorry ㅠㅠ.

This is a constant cycle.

You get horny. You text him. He comes over. He fucks your brains out. He leaves.

Or, vice versa.

This is something you both agreed on a while ago.

Dating didn’t work out for the two of you. You tried, but your personalities clash in the worst possible way. He’s too reactive — everything was either offensive or annoying to him. Especially when it came to jealousy. The man couldn’t stand just a look from another man in your direction. It blew all his fuses, and cut your own short just trying to understand him. On the other side, you hated talking about anything at all. Half of his reaction came from the fact that you couldn’t explain why you were angry about it. It left both of you frustrated. You felt he should have known without you having to explain the obvious, and he felt that his feelings and reactions were valid, even if it was over just a small issue.

Just about the only thing you both agreed on was sex. After you broke up, the two of you couldn’t deny that no one else matched up to the way you two fucked. You tried another partner, but he couldn’t give you the same satisfaction that Jungkook gave you. Apparently, Jungkook was in the same boat.

Putting all your hatred for the man beside you, there’s no denying how attracted you are to each other and how well you two click in the bedroom. That’s obvious now more than ever, in the depths of his sheets, with his mouth on your clit and your fingers tugging on his hair.

“Ffuckk,” you cry, pulling on his locks.

The man beneath you simply grips your hips tighter, digging his fingers into your skin. He’ll surely leave marks, and you smile knowing that he knew you’d like that.

Jungkook moans into your pussy, his tongue delving into you every so often before he swirls around your clit in the way you like. The hotness of his tongue fills you with a fuzzy warmth at the pit of your stomach with every movement, moan, and grip he enforces onto your body. He’s been at it for 10 minutes, eating you like you’re Thanksgiving dinner. There are juices dripping from his chin onto the hardwood floor, but he doesn’t care. He’s determined to make you reach another high. He’ll make it happen, and you know it.

You almost feel yourself there, and you try to pull his head away at the feeling. But he’s too strong for you; your efforts are completely fruitless against his torture.

“K-Kook,” you gasp, scared of the orgasm you feel looming over you. “T-too much.”

He simply shakes his head, knowing you can take it. He hums against you, adding two fingers into you, and curling them upwards into your g-spot while focusing all his tongue technology on your clit.

This seems to do it, and he moans into you when you cum for him, spilling out onto his fingers just the way he likes it. You cum saying his name over and over again, sending him into a praise-kink frenzy with the way you chant his name like it’s the only word you know.

Jungkook pulls away from you, and quickly takes off his black Calvins before he rests a knee on the bed. You shiver at the cold air hitting your pussy, a stark difference from the fire that his tongue played over your folds just moments ago.

“You good?” he asks, wiping your juices from his mouth with the back of his forearm. He pumps his dick for a second, feeling dominant knowing he got your body to look as fucked out as it looks below him.

You catch your breath for a few moments, placing your arm over your eyes as you pant into the air. You hear Jungkook laugh at you, and you almost say something before you hear him ripping open a condom and sliding it on.

You take your arm off your eyes, staring at him upsettingly.

“That’s my favorite part,” you frown, sad that he didn’t allow you to slide the condom on. Typically, you give him a good sloppy-toppy before you slide the condom on in return for eating you out to hell and back. So you feel a little confused as to why he wouldn’t want one this time.

In fact, this isn’t the first time he’s cut your time together a little shorter than it usually is. These days, he’s been leaving out an activity or two in your typical fuck schedule, cutting the time in half. You hate that it makes you feel scared. You’re not together anymore, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he probably has other dates and girls to fuck after this. You hate that you don’t like that idea.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Do you want to?”

“Well,” you sigh, turning over onto your stomach. “I did, but let’s not waste a condom. It’s fine.”

Jungkook strokes his cock at the sight of you. This is his favorite position by far. Something about it makes him cum in seconds, and he doesn’t know why.

“Next time,” he promises.

But you roll your eyes, remembering that he had said that the last time he denied you.

“Sure,” you say dryly.

Jungkook slaps your ass hard, and you jolt, looking back at him with a furrow between your eyebrows. He does it again harder, and you gush out. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of the fact that you liked it, you attempt to reprimand him, but he’s already slipping into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size and his speed. He pistons into you, gripping your waist hard and using it for support as he slams his hips against your ass.

“Hmm,” he whines between a thrust. You can imagine his face right now, tilting his head back at the feeling while his eyes shut in an attempt to control himself. “B-best pussy, ffuckk.”

You nearly scream into the mattress, trying to hold in your third orgasm for longer. He fits you like a puzzle when you’re like this. Dick perfect for you, and body so capable of giving you what you need. He’s brutal with you, and he knows every single one of your limits. He knows how you like it, and you know how he likes it. It’s perfect...just for now.

“K-Kook,” you mewl into the back of your palm. He grabs it, placing his palm over the back of your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He does the same to the other one, trapping them against the sheets next to your head under his weight.

“God you’re so good,” he pants in your ear. “No one else, you hear me?”

You nod frantically, unable to produce a sound. His hair falls against your cheek, moving with his thrusts as he continues to fuck you to oblivion.

“You’re my slut, understand?” he grunts angrily, gripping your hands tighter. “No one else can fuck you like this. Only me.”

“Mmhm,” you whine, leaning your head back against his shoulder. You feel him almost kiss your neck, and you whine in disappointment when he doesn’t indulge in the opportunity.

“Fuck— say it Y/n,�� he demands. He bites on your ear gently, waiting for a response. When you don’t answer, he pulls out without a warning.

“What the f—” you pout, feeling completely empty. You were almost there, and he took it away from you. These questions were typical of your fucking activities. So why he wasn’t satisfied by your answers this time leaves you unable to determine what to do next.

Looking back at him, you feel confused by his expression. But he doesn’t give you time to analyze it before he turns you over onto your back, pushing your legs up to your chest as he aligns himself up again.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” you ask him. You two agreed not to do missionary anymore. It’s too personal for just fuck buddies. But you watch him break the rules right in front of you, and all you can do is question him, unable to find the will to stop him.

He slips into you slowly, causing you to gasp at the feeling you had forgotten this position gave you. You’re not the only one feeling the effects of it. The man before you begins to lose strength, resting his forearms on the sides of your head. He traps you with tattoos, piercings, and honey skin, leaving you to feel completely overwhelmed by the familiarity of the unfamiliarity you are experiencing with him right now.

“Say it, Y/n,” he bites on your neck.

Jungkook’s pace returns to what it was before. You find yourself grasping onto his back for support, digging your nails at the feeling that you missed so badly but couldn’t admit to him that you did.

“O-Only you, Koo,” you tilt your head back against his hand. You give him the answer he always asks for. “Only you can make me feel this w-way.”

But something in Jungkook isn’t satisfied. He suddenly gains strength again and hikes your legs over his shoulders.

“G-god,” he rolls his eyes back for a second at the feeling before looking down at you. You’re so blissed out, so satisfied and fucked to the core. He feels himself hit your cervix, prompting him to go faster and deeper than he has in months. The feeling causes you to cry from the pleasure, feeling so overwhelmed and confused by the man above you. But he doesn’t stop. In the next few moments, he sears his lips onto yours, kissing you hotly and passionately — another rule broken. Despite the forbidden, you can’t help but embrace him. Jungkook’s a good kisser, but on top of that, you really missed this with him.

You slide your hands around his neck, holding him against your lips, refusing to let him go. He’s sloppy and wet, but you don’t care. Not when it feels so good to be kissed by him again.

Jungkook feels his dick twitch harshly when you whisper his name against his lips, biting at his bottom lip a little. Kissing you sent him into a high before, but kissing you now? He forgot what it felt like, and his balls tighten just from the thought itself.

“M’ gonna cum,” he groans, head falling into your neck heavily.

“Me too,” you admit. You clutch onto him, gasping as one hand sends red streaks down his back, and the other tugs on his hair like he’s some rag doll.

You tighten around him so tightly when he begins to move faster, causing him to falter in his rhythm a little.

“S-So, tight, Y/n,” he moans. His dick twitches inside of you as you cum on his cock, forcing him to follow in his own streaks of white paint. “Fuckk,” he curses into your skin.

He rides out both of your highs, too blissed out to tell how long it’s been since the two of you came, too overwhelmed to stop.

It’s not until you push on his shoulders that he finally snaps out of it.

The two of you look at each other for a long while, ignoring his dick slowly going flaccid, and the whole area down there growing cold from the lack of friction. For a while, you watch his pupils grow to the size of nickles as he looks into your eyes. He presses his palm against your cheek, and you lean against it out of pure habit.

The action causes him to scrunch his nose in laughter. You can’t help but follow after him. You laugh with him, feeling relief that the laughter you share is both of your realizations that things can't continue like this anymore. Not when it felt too good to break the rules. Not when you realize that maybe the rules need to be broken to start something new...again.

He begins to die down his laughter for a second, still smiling, but this time not showing his teeth.

“Y-You wanna try this again?” he asks first. “I’m willing to put in the work we need.”

“If you’re willing, I’m willing,” you brush the hair out of his face.

He kisses you again, softly this time. It’s real, and it feels different from all the times he’s kissed you before. There’s truth in his words. You feel that he’s already changed already, and it inspires you to change as well. For you and for him so that the two of you can work as a couple again.

“We’re so stupid,” he laughs again, brushing his nose against yours.

“We are,” you admit with a smile.

----

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

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solarmorrigan · 1 year

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(a silly little continuation of this post)

No. Hopper takes it back. The worst part is that Eddie actually seems to be good for Steve

It would be one thing if they were terrible together – if they argued and clashed like the opposites they seem to be, left each other in a foul mood or said nasty things to each other (things that would maybe see Steve complaining to Hopper, that would maybe let Hopper go tell Eddie to leave Steve—and by extension, Hopper—alone. Y'know, in a world where Steve would open up to literally anyone about that sort of thing). But they don't. In fact, Steve seems happier than Hopper's probably ever seen him

He's remembering to eat more

It’s not that Steve starves himself, it’s just that he doesn’t seem to remember that he needs to take breaks and have something to eat. But if you put food in front of him, he’ll eat it, and Eddie has apparently put himself in charge of putting food in front of Steve. He keeps packets of trail mix and candy bars and even fruit in his bag or the pockets of his jacket and passes them off to Steve whenever he seems to think it’s necessary

(And yes, Hopper has, unfortunately, noticed that the fruit is most often bananas. “Your favorite,” Eddie had said once, pressing one into Steve’s hand with a smirk that had made Steve roll his eyes, but he had still stood there and eaten it in front of Eddie, and Hopper wishes he could bleach that entire exchange from his mind)

Eddie gets Steve to loosen up in ways he almost never does anymore. Gets him to laugh

They both come in from the cold one afternoon, Eddie without a pair of gloves in sight (it’s freezing, and the idiot is going to lose his fingers, and Hopper catches himself wondering for a moment if he has an old pair of gloves he can throw at the kid) and he proceeds to sneak up on Steve and shove his hands right up Steve’s shirt. Steve makes a noise so high-pitched his voice cracks and reflexively elbows Eddie in the stomach. Eddie doubles over, wheezing out a faint “Son of a bitch,” but then he’s laughing. And then Steve is laughing, turning around to tell Eddie, “You’re such an asshole,” and then they’re both laughing again. (Christ, they’re both idiots)

Steve is always a little on edge around the kids. Always watching, even if he isn't obvious about it. Always ready to step in, even if he rarely needs to

But Eddie seems to take some of that weight off of him – does it pretty well, Hopper will begrudgingly admit. The kids think Eddie is cool (for some reason) and they listen to him when he orders them around like they're pawns in that weird little game they all like to play. And as much as Eddie seems to like encouraging chaos, he also knows when to nip it in the bud – like when Dustin and Mike get into some kind of argument that's about to escalate into a shouting match, and Eddie walks by in time to smack them both in the back of the head and tell them to pipe down, before Steve (or Hopper, for that matter; neither of them are great fans of shouting these days) can move a muscle

It’s during one of the kids’ movie nights, though, that Hopper realizes he’s well and truly stuck with Eddie Munson

Hopper doesn't usually participate in movie nights. Yes, the Hopper-Byers house is always open to any of the kids (younger or older), yes their living room is big enough to squeeze most of them in around the TV, but Hopper tends to leave them to it and sit with the actual adults (meaning Joyce. Sometimes Murray). But El had grabbed his hand and pointed big brown eyes up at him and asked him to stay and watch, so he had. Like after everything that's happened, he's not gonna spend all the time with her that he can? Even if it means shooing at least two teenagers out of his recliner? (Actually, especially when it means shooing teenagers out of his recliner)

Halfway through the movie, Hopper spots some movement on the far end of the couch and glances over to see Steve leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes. One of those bad headaches, Hopper would guess. And then Eddie is leaning forward, too, rubbing a hand over Steve's back and leaning close to say something to him softly enough that it doesn't carry over the sound of the movie

Steve immediately shakes his head and sits back. Eddie purses his lips, seems conflicted, and then turns so he's got his back pressed to the corner of the couch. He tugs at Steve's arm until Steve relents and leans back against him, and with a surprisingly economic amount of shuffling, Eddie's got Steve cradled up against his chest (which only looks a little funny, considering Steve is actually a bit broader than Eddie), one arm wrapped around his waist and one hand covering Steve's eyes, blocking out all the light

It's an immensely vulnerable position, but Steve just fucking melts back against Eddie, the tense lines that are almost always present in his body when he's got a bad headache disappearing over the second half of the movie, until he seems to have fallen asleep by the credits. And Eddie—chronic fidgeter, who can't fucking hold still to save his life—just sits there the whole time, placid as can be, letting Steve sleep

It's terrible

It's goddamn intimacy and trust and the kind of care that Steve bristles at from almost anyone else, and Eddie goddamn Munson gets away with it, and he's really goddamn good to Steve

And Hopper has no choice but to continue putting up with him

(But it could be worse, he guesses. Could be a lot worse)

#steddie #jim hopper #steve harrington #eddie munson #hopper & steve #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote

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thatfreshi · 8 months

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Could I request an Astarion/GN!reader(Tav) where reader has trauma around their throat being touched and stuff but bears through the panic attacks just so Astarion can feed and Astarion only finds out after they make camp and confronts reader/Tav about their mental breakdown after a battle they had prior in the day?(reader got grabbed forcefully by the neck?) Essentially a bit of angst and comfort?

Set in act 2!!

TW - choking, panic attack, disordered eating behaviors

Recommended Song: Don't Invest In Me - Adam Melchor

Battle is horrifying, something Astarion never truly quite realized until he fell in love you with. He's talented, especially at killing people. He's never had to worry in a fight, because it was always just him. Now he has to worry about you, and it's painful, not being able to be by your side constantly, watching you in perilous situations, looking death right in the eye. When your group ran into a few violent adventurers yesterday, you weren't expecting any trouble. Suddenly, metal clashing, magic moving through the trees. Astarion moved quickly, offing one of the offenders almost immediately. When he turned to see who was next, bloodlust in his eyes, he saw you being held by the throat. You were frozen, running out of oxygen, tears welling at your eyes. He ran through the trees, running his blade through your captor's back.

"Tav? My dear, are you alright?"

You can't speak, utterly shocked. No one had ever tried to choke you in the throes of battle, and it reminded you of awful things, things that were better left unsaid. He checks you for any other wounds as you're trapped in your own mind. The fighting continues, but he doesn't care. All that matters is you, the others can handle themselves just fine. And if not, that's their loss, not his.

After thoroughly checking you over, he can't find anything else of concern. The bruising on your neck though, it's black and blue already. Racing thoughts, wondering if there's been any lasting damage. He can't decide if he should be more concerned about the fact that you're practically frozen in place or if your windpipe is destroyed.

"The fuck are you doing? We have shit to deal with!"

Karlach silences her complaints when she sees you lying on the ground. Astarion doesn't even look up at her, afraid. He's only ever truly had one thing, one thing that was his, and that's you. Everything else feels so impermanent, but you? You're constant.

"Astarion! Astarion!"

She yells out his name until he finally snaps back to look at your tiefling friend.

"Take Tav back to camp, we've got it covered."

Karlach then runs off, back to assist Wyll with a shadow-covered half-elf. You groan in pain, your neck on fire. As you start to come back to reality, you realize you're in the vampire's arms, a vampire currently moving through the dark as quickly as possible. Neither of you have lights on you, but he knows there are still torches lit at camp, he just has to get there before the shadow curse starts to take hold. You're light-headed, both from lack of oxygen and the panic attack.

"Where...?"

"Hush darling, it's alright. We're almost there, almost to camp."

Through a couple more feet of trees, the two of you make it, bathing in the warm light of the torches posted behind the brush. He takes you back to your tent, where your bedrolls lie side by side. He silently curses himself for not knowing any healing magic, promising himself he'll finally learn after this.

"Aster?"

You call out groggily.

"Yes my love, I'm right here."

Ceasing the nervous pacing, he sits by your side.

"What... what happened?"

He almost doesn't want to say, worried about how you reacted while it was happening.

"One of the shadow-cursed, they... they had you in a nasty chokehold, and I killed them."

You shift, wishing he didn't have to know about all of this.

"Sorry."

"About what darling? You've done nothing wrong."

"About not telling you- not telling you about it."

You're gasping to get your words out, your throat clearly damaged. He furrows his brow in concerned confusion.

"I- I really don't like people touching my neck, doing anything to it to be honest. Wasn't expecting one of them to grab me like that."

Coughing at the end of your sentence, you don't see Astarion's eyes travel through his thoughts, realizing what that means.

"Darling... you let me feed off of you almost every evening."

You smile a little.

"I know."

He grabs one of your hands, clasping it in both of his.

"I'll never do it again. I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

Frantic, worried he's done something irreversibly wrong.

"No, no Aster it's okay. Does it suck sometimes? Yeah, but I need you to be healthy. Besides, what's a better way to work through your trauma than exposure therapy?"

"That's not fair. I can find something else, some other way."

"And what, go back to forest animals? You know there's nothing for you out here, in the darkness."

"Then I'll simply starve! Done it before, I'll do it again."

Gods, he's stubborn. You don't blame him, he would never want to cross anyone's boundaries after his have been trampled a million times.

"My love, come here."

You reach out, beckoning to pull him down beside you.

"If I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't. You need to feed, and I can provide that. You do plenty for me, let me do this one thing for you."

"But, but you hate it."

"Yeah. Those two things can coexist, my hate for people touching my neck, and my love for you. I can put up with the anxiety if it means you're okay."

"I would be okay though."

You cup his face in your hand, making sure he's looking at you.

"I'm telling you I'm okay, and that you deserve more than rats. Okay?"

You've been around him long enough, you know his logic. If he survived for two hundred years living off of flies and rats, he certainly doesn't need blood like yours. If he had starved for an entire year, he could take a few months before getting to Baldur's Gate. Sometimes you have to remind him that survival mode isn't living, that he's allowed to have nice things. Tears fall from his eyes.

"Are you sure my sweet? Absolutely certain?"

"Of course, and if I ever needed you to stop I would tell you, promise."

You put your pinky out, and he stares at it.

"What... what are you doing? Is this you offering me to feed off a singular finger? Because if so, that's uh-"

"No, gods! It's a pinky promise."

"A... a what?"

You start laughing, so hard that you start coughing again, tears falling down your face.

"You've never heard of a pinky promise?"

It pulls at your heart a little, realizing he probably never had anyone teach him.

"I guess I haven't."

You put your pinky out, and he does the same, and then you hook yours, interlacing the small finger with his.

"There, I pinky promise that I'll tell you if you need to stop feeding on me."

As you pull your hand away, he looks confused.

"And that's what, some non-verbal contract?"

"I guess so Mr. Magistrate."

You start laughing again.

"Okay, you have thoroughly scared me, and made me cry, and teased me, in one night! I'm not sure how much more I can take."

There's a hint of humor in his tone. Honestly, he also thinks it's ridiculous that he was a magistrate, considering he was terrible at it, at least from the small things he remembers.

"Well, it's over now. I'm okay, and we're safe."

He narrows his eyes.

"I'm still going to have Shadowheart look over you when the rest return."

"Well, that's your fault for not learning healing magic."

"Okay, you don't know any magic, so I don't want to hear it!"

The two of you stay up for hours, laughing at stupid jokes, hysterical from the tragedy that evening. Sometimes after something horrible, you just need a good laugh, especially with your easily provoked lover.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #fluff #comfort #angst

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hoakaikapo · 3 months

Text

ATTRACTION - Clarisse La Rue x Unclaimed! Fem! Reader

summary: you and clarisse don’t get along, but you both can’t deny that there’s some sort of attraction between the two of you.

warnings: mention of blood

a/n: LOL, sorry this is a huge huge rush draft because i’m working on my ff of clarisse but i just needed to write this out. enjoy!!

—————-

The feeling of a metal blade burned throughout your body as it made contact with your skin. You looked down, blood gushing out of the newly formed wound. It was deeper than your usual cuts. You grunted at the sight of it. You were used to this feeling of getting injured in whatever you did, so you let it bleed out as you charged back at your opponent. You weren’t going to let a measly little cut get in the way of your soon-to-be victory.

You were unsure what was burning in you today to crave victory this badly. Maybe it was because you felt discouraged that she had yet to be claimed. Maybe it was the urge to prove your worth amongst your fellow campers. Maybe it was because your natural nemesis, Clarisse La Rue, was your opponent, the only thing standing between your victory.

The sound of your swords clashing against each other was like music to your ears. You could make up the symphonies in your head, the movement mimicked that of a passionate musician playing their chords. You found sword fighting similar to watching a symphonic orchestra, ones that your mother would take you to when you were younger. You imagined the violinist: their bow gliding across the strings like how a swordsman would glide their sword through their enemies. You imagined the pianist: their hands striking each key like a fighter using their weapon to protect themself and fight back. You saw how each component played into each other, how they created the perfect symphony.

For you, these movements would create your victory.

As much as you hated Clarisse, you also hated to admit that your arch nemesis sword skills were remarkable. In your opinion, Clarisse was an even better fighter than yourself. The only thing that kept her from winning half of the time was her extreme lack of strategy. But, given that she’s the daughter of Ares and extremely hot headed, you figured that strategy never really ran in Clarisse’s blood. You figured that at this point in your sparring, Clarisse would have found some way to cheat her way to a victory. Surprisingly, she was fighting fair and square the entire time.

The arena was packed as far as you could see out of the corners of your eyes. A few campers have to sit on the stairs. You never understood why everyone anticipated this fight. You and Clarisse fought almost all the time in every single encounter you had with each other since you arrived at Camp Half-Blood. However, you figured that maybe the fact that it was for a title or proper victory made it really appealing to the others.

“Are you ready to give up?” Clarisse teased, a sly grin coming over her face. “That cut on your arm looks nasty.”

“Not as nasty as you, La Rue,” You spat back at her. Clarisse growled in response.

You took your stance, repositioning yourself into a much more comfortable position where you could defend herself better. The strategy that you had been using was useless, so you quickly came up with a new one: tire Clarisse out, let her swing at you all she likes until she’s tired. Clarisse began striking her ten times harder than she previously did– as if she was trying to kill you. With every strike, you were able to block it, just barely before Clarisse would strike again. And again. And again until you had managed to swiftly roll from one of her swings which narrowly missed your head.

Finally, Clarisse was getting tired. You could see it in the way Clarisse stood before you; the rising and falling of her chest indicated that while her eyes looked slightly unenergized. You could feel your stamina rejuvenating, like lightning bolts across a stormy sky. With that, you began your counterattack on Clarisse, using your sword to strike as if creating your own symphony.

A swift kick to Clarisse’s left leg and she fell. You - clumsily - landed on top of her due primarily to your lack of balance. You held her sword over Clarisse’s throat, just a few centimeters away from making contact with her skin. You could see the rage in Clarisse’s eyes and feel her anger beneath your body. However, Clarisse did not argue or yell at you. Instead, they stayed in that position; their breathing heavy and slowed, almost in perfect sync, as the arena erupted into applause and cheers for you.

The locker room was empty. Or so you had thought. As you were dressing your wound, you noticed a figure standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

“You took a cheap shot,” Clarisse’s voice was husky with anger. “Kicking me down like that.”

“Well, I’m not the one who maimed their opponent, aren’t I?” You responded and pointed to your bandage.

Clarisse rolled her eyes. “You clearly don’t know what the word ‘maim’ means since your arm is still mobile.”

“Oh, wow, I guess you do have a brain after all. Good for you.”

There was something about you that made Clarisse despise you. Maybe it’s the fact that you were remarkably good at sword fighting, especially since you had just bested her in your competition. Maybe it’s how seemingly perfect your features were. Maybe it’s the fact that ever since you arrived at camp, Clarisse could feel that something was … oddly forbidden and unfamiliar about you.

“Well, I’ll get you next time,” Clarisse said and walked over to you close enough to where you could feel Clarisse’s breath on your face. That’s another thing you hated: Clarisse was taller than you - much taller. It gave Clarisse a better advantage of being more intimidating to the other campers. “A little unclaimed child like you shouldn't have bested me anyways.”

You would have punched her right then and there. Instead, you looked up to meet Clarisse’s eyes and placed your hand on her chest. You gently began to push her backwards until the taller girl’s back hit the locker room wall and made sure your face was directly underneath Clarisse’s.

“Aww, is the daughter of Ares salty that she lost in a fight to me?” You cooed and slowly lifted your finger underneath Clarisse’s jaw, bringing it slightly closer to yours.

You noticed the taller girl became more tense. A good thing, in your opinion. You watched as Clarisse’s eyes followed your every movement. An even better thing. A slight blush arose to Clarisse’s cheeks as you glanced at her, almost doe-eyed. Lips parted slightly, You slowly came closer to Clarisse’s face.

Clarisse wasn’t sure what to anticipate. Sure, you two hated each other, but sometimes, you would have these moments where you would flirt and tease her. Shamefully, Clarisse would do the same thing. It drove her crazy sometimes, which could explain her dislike for you at some points. She could never fully explain the energy between you and her. It was far too complicated beyond just pure hatred.

“I’ll see around, La Rue,” You whispered softly into her ear before walking out the locker room, leaving Clarisse to wonder what exactly just happened.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #dior goodjohn #fem oc #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader

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weasleyreidstyles · 4 months

Text

Serendipity

chapter one

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): none

series masterlist; next part

The atmosphere surrounding the students on the Hogwarts Express differed massively in comparison to your fifth year last year, when everyone was wholly against Harry. Now, however, people whispered in their compartments about how he was right, the Dark Lord had returned. How everything was changing, especially with the rising death toll, wizard and muggle combined.

You were walking to the designated Prefect's compartment, which sat in the middle of the train, with Hermione at your side, your blue and bronze tie clashing with her burgundy and gold one. Your presence at the Ministry that summer prompted the two of you to be topics of few conversations, you sent glares their way.

"What do you think will happen this year?" the Gryffindor girl asked as you both made your way through the throngs of students in the hallway.

"Considering we almost died in June?" you say, a frown painting your face as your mind brings you back to your traumatic time in the Department of Mysteries to aid Harry in saving (and failing to do so) his Godfather. "We'll probably face certain death this year, Mione."

Hermione swatted your arm in feined annoyance at your attempt of a joke. "Don't put that thought into existence Meadow."

You only shrugged as you held the compartment door open for her. Ron was already waiting inside, glaring at Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson, who were sat diagonally across from him.

Unlike your Gryffindor companions, you had no issues with the two snakes, in fact they were two people you would consider your closest friends, if it wasn't for the prejudice that went both ways – from your friends and some of their's.

"Stop glaring holes into the sides of their heads, Ron." you scold. "I've told you before, they're my friends. They won't do anything to you."

He said nothing, but he did stop his glaring in favour of greeting the two of you.

The Prefect meeting went on for over an hour and you found yourself zoning out multiple times.

You're going to miss out on important information if you keep daydreaming, tesoro. Theodore. You admired that he was as talented as he was, but it was annoying when he would invade your thoughts. You narrowed your eyes at him.

Stay out of my head, Teddy.

But it's so fun, and so easy. He smirked and turned his attention back to the Head Boy, who was busy assigning roles to the new fifth year prefects. Pansy nudged Theo's arm, breaking his concentration, as she was obviously using her own legillimens ability to berate him. She offered you a smile in apology, which you returned with one of your own.

You'd taken to learning legillimens at the start of fifth year, having read about it in a book you'd taken from the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. You also wanted to protect your mind, especially with the knowledge that Voldemort was back after Harry had returned with Cedric Diggory's dead body at the end of your fourth year.

"Now onto you sixth years." the Head Girl announced. "Like last year, you're going to be paired off for nightly patrols."

She began pairing you off one by one. Hermione was with Ernie Macmillan; Ron was paired with Hannah Abbot; Pansy with your Ravenclaw counterpart and Theodore was paired with you. She then paired off the seventh year prefects before the Head Boy dismissed you all.

~∞~

Ron yawned as he stepped into the corridor. "Thank Merlin that's over. I'm starving."

"You're always hungry, Ronald." Hermione muttered as she walked out behind him, rolling her eyes at his usual ramblings, causing you to laugh at his expense.

"My my, it's a wonder why Dumbledore chose you to be a prefect with that attitude, Weasley." Theodore spoke up from behind you, Pansy at his side, once again shooting you an apologetic smile.

"Piss off, Nott." Ron snarked, turning to face your snickering Slytherin friend, about to take a step towards him when you put a hand on his chest.

"Leave it Ron. He's only trying to get a rise out of you. I'll meet you both in the compartment in a bit." you say, turning to face a smirking Theo with a berating glare.

"Wanted to get me alone, tesoro? Finally. I've waited all these years." he said with a grin, stepping towards you as your Gryffindor friends reluctantly left.

"Don't flatter yourself, Teddy." you say with an eye roll before you turned to Pansy and brought her into a hug. "I've missed you Pans. Good summer?"

"Abysmal." she muttered, sharing a not-so-subtle look with Theo. You looked between them questioningly.

"What happened?" you ask.

Exchanging glancing, they seemed to come to an agreement and Pansy grabbed your hand, dragging you into the closest empty compartment. Theo followed behind the two of you, closing the door and spelling it from unwanted listeners.

"What's with the secrecy? Guys?" you look between them growing more confused by the second.

"Before I tell you, you have to understand, I didn't have a choice, none of us did." Theo emphasises. "I consider you one of my best friends, tesoro. But what I'm about to reveal....it cannot under any circumstances leave this room."

You look at him confused, but the nagging thought that had haunted you all summer suddenly creeped up on your subconscious. Your eyes widened.

"No. Theo don't tell me-" you stutter and he looks away ashamed.

His son is my best friend. My father wants to get into his good graces, I had no choice. Even his voice in your head sounds despondent.

"Oh Teddy." you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist, hugging him tight.

"I'm to receive the mark during the Christmas holidays." he mumbles dejectively into your hair. "Hell of a Christmas present."

"How good is your legillimens ability?" Pansy asks you. "Can you block people out."

"I have my thoughts locked away into a little mental box, but I'm still working on fully blocking people out." you say, pointedly looking up at Theo, who smiles innocently at you.

"You'll need to practice it then." she says resolutely, but the look on her face indicates nothing pleasant. "Mattheo can help you."

You scoffed. "There is no way Riddle will willingly help me. His father's biggest threat is one of my best friends."

"And you're one of our best friends, Meadow." Pansy says. "Our loyalty to eachother goes both ways. He'll help you, he's the most advanced at it, besides Snape and Dumbledore of course. Trust me."

"What about Harry?" I ask. "And Ron and Hermione, the Order. What am I meant to tell them. They won't be thrilled that I'm taking lessons from you-know-who's son."

"You'll tell them that you're tutoring Mattheo. It's a believable lie. He's shite at Ancient Runes, no matter how much I try to help him." Theo says, nodding his head as a plan forms in his mind. That was true. You don't know how Riddle was still enrolled in that class. "We've already discussed this becoming a possibility. He's more than willing."

"Why are you trusting me with this?" you question, staring between your two friends.

"Like it or not, you're our one way ticket to the right side of this war, tesoro. You know as well as I do that Potter needs as much help as he can get. And you need to protect your mind so that the Dark Lord can't get into your head." Theo says.

"So are you in?" Pansy asks as she heads towards the door. "Because there's no backing out from here, and I really don't want to obliviate one of my dearest friends."

You know the risks. You don't know what this will mean for your current friendships. But you know that Theodore is right. To help Harry, he'll need as much help as possible. Having Theo and Pansy on your side could be a turning point in this brewing war.

"I'm in." you say, nodding your head in agreement. "Just keep the snarky comments to a minimum about Ron, Mione and Harry, please. And relay that message to the rest of your friends too."

"Already done, tesoro." Theo says, ruffling your hair, grinning when you swat his hand away.

You question what he means for a moment when the back of your skull begins to burn with a dull ache. You cradle the back of your neck with your hand, wincing at the sting as Mattheo's deep, raspy voice fills every corner of your mind.

Lessons start tomorrow night, Princess. Don't be late.

He was already in your head, you sighed. It was going to be a long year.

~∞~

You reached the compartment that your other friends occupied at the same time that Harry and Neville seemed to be leaving it.

"Where are you two off to?" you ask as the two boys move away from the open doorway.

"To meet Professor Slughorn." Neville said, although he looked a mixure of nervous and confused.

"Who the hell is that?" you look at Hermione as you go inside, leaving Harry and Neville on their venture.

"New Professor, apparently." she replied. "What took you so long?"

You knew that your friends, minus maybe Harry, had little to no legillimens skills, but nevertheless, you cleared your mind of the conversation you'd had with Theo and Pansy.

"Well Pansy likes a gossip." you said flipantly as you pulled out a book from your never ending bag. "How else are we to know everything that goes on outside of our little circle, now that Lee Jordan is no longer in school?"

Ron and Hermione smile at that, before Ron's face drops.

"Listen, be careful around them this year, yeah." he said, his voice low. "We went to see Fred and George's new shop and watched Malfoy go into Borgin and Burke's with a bunch of known Death Eaters."

Your heart dropped. Theo would be participating in those meeting come Christmas time. That must mean that Draco was already involved.

"Well you know what sort of things they sell there." you say hesitantly. "It probably doesn't mean anything."

Hermione scoffed. "Try telling that to Harry. I think he's convinced that Draco and Riddle have been inducted."

You fall silent shortly after that. The conversation only picking up again when Neville came back to the compartment, Ginny following behind him.

Harry was nowhere in sight.

~∞~

Harry was awol for the rest of the trainride.

When the Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop in Hogsmeade station and you all found a carriage to settle in, he still wasn't there.

"Where on Earth is he?" Mione muttered as the thestrals, that were no longer invisible to you all after Sirius' death, pulled onto the winding road up to the castle.

"He's probably already in a carriage and didn't wait for us. Wouldn't be the first time." Ron assured, although his face betrayed his words as he looked as worried as you and Hermione.

You were unconvinced, and more so when you split off towards the Ravenclaw table when the three of you arrived to the Great Hall and saw, not to your surprise, Mattheo Riddle with bloody and bruised knuckles. As you sat beside Luna Lovegood you felt that same prickling sensation that you did on the train. He was watching you, and he continued to watch you with his cold, unbothered stare through the sorting ceremony and Dumbledore's speech.

Your attention was brought to the doors of the Great Hall where Harry seemed to materialise, Snape's looming figure behind him. But what you noticed the most in the bright glow of floating candles that bothered you more than his lack of punctuality, was the bloody tissue he was dabbing at his recently-fixed broken nose, which he did not have when you last saw him hours earlier.

People stared and whispered as he made his way to where Ron and Hermione were sitting. But your attention was pulled to where Crabbe and Goyle were sat snickering from their seats beside Draco. You narrowed your eyes at Riddle, who was still looking at you.

Got a staring problem, Princess?

Merlin he infuriated you. You focused on him as you thought of your response.

Did you do that to his face?

He smirked. Did I do what?

You didn't give him a response, instead turning your attention to Theo, who was chatting to Lorenzo Berkshire. Did Riddle do that to Harry? You asked and you watched as Theo startled before maintaining the same facade of conversation.

No. It was Draco. Harry was eavesdropping his conversation with Blaise. Matt was with me and Enzo.

Your question was answered, but you were still left unsatisfied. And Riddle's stare had not faltered, which added to your growing bad mood.

Stop fucking staring at me, Riddle. And stay out of my head.

He smirked wickedly and finally looked away, taking the prickling sensation along with him.

~∞~

first post on tumblr after lurking for a year 🫢

i've been a little hyperfixated on the slytherin boys (particularly theo and mattheo) so i thought i'd try out writing a short(ish) fic, but i couldn't be bothered with wattpad (i'm procrastinating finishing a fic on there lol)

i'm also writing this instead of finishing uni assignments that are literally due at the end of the week whoops

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson #theo nott #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #mattheo riddle smut #ravenclaw x slytherin #serendipity series

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sarahs-library · 4 months

Note

hi! i hope your having a good day 😊 you said you were taking requests so i have one if you dont mind! could you do something were az and reader are interrupted after they accept the bond by someone, maybe elain and she's upset and it causes issues? thanks!

Hey,

This is my first request so please be gentle with me if it isn't exactly what you were looking for. Also I'm sorry this sat in my inbox for so long, I wasn't sure exactly how to go about writing this one; I eventually decided on making it as dramatic as possible. 😅 So in true form, this is written mostly from our drama king Rhys' POV but there is some Reader POV fluff at the end. I wasn't sure where you stood with smut, so I've kept it relatively open to interpretation at the end.

Get Out!

Maybe being so secretive about your relationship with Azriel wasn't the best idea after all.

Word count: 5,090

Rhys POV

Rhys adjusted his grip on the blade in his hand as it clashed with Cassian's, the keen of metal against metal filled the training room. Sweat burned his eyes as he heaved air into his lungs. Cassian's grin bordered on feral as they separated, circling each other. Rhys hadn't realised how long it had been since he'd trained properly, but he could feel it in the ache of his muscles.

"Fatherhood making you soft, Rhys?"

Rhys rolled his eyes, hoping that Cassian didn't notice he couldn't muster more of a response between gasped breaths and fending off his attacks. They'd been at it for hours. Cassian was right, in between High Lord duties and trying to spend every possible moment with his son, resolute on not missing a single milestone, Rhys had certainly neglected his training regime. And now his brother was making him pay for it.

A blade whistled dangerously close to his face. Rhys managed to bring his own up in time to stop the blow as the force of it reverberated down his arm. He ducked out of Cassian's reach, staying firmly on the defensive while his brother eyed him with mirth. Cassian made a show of surveying Rhys slowly as he began to advance again, eyes trailing down his body and settling for a moment on the tight muscles of his abdomen. He clucked his tongue in disapproval.

"Just because Feyre loves you, doesn't mean you can let yourself go so much." Rhys dodged as Cassian swung towards his side, levelling him with a strike of his own which was blocked with ease. Cassian smirked at him as their blades locked, Rhys bared his teeth in a snarl as he forced Cassian's blade back.

A gentle caress against the fortress of his mental shields stole his attention away from his brother for a moment. Cassian smacked the flat face of his sword against Rhys' thigh, a strike that would likely leave a nasty bruise. Rhys opened the antechamber in his mind, built like a house of worship over the foundations of his mating bond with Feyre. He managed to send a small, gentle caress in return before he was drawn back to avoiding Cassian's blade.

Rhys, where are you? There was an undercurrent of worry flowing down the bond to him. It took his attention immediately. He signalled to Cassian, lowering his blade and taking a deep breath.

Training with Cass at the House. What's wrong? He was already moving as he answered, racking the blunted practice sword and retrieving his shirt from where it had been tossed earlier in the session. Cassian mimicked his movements before heading to the pitcher of water to pour two glasses.

It's Elain, something's happened.

What?

She's inconsolable. She says...that Y/N attacked her. Surprise sparked in Rhys.

Are you sure? It didn't make any sense. You were so gentle. A junior healer under Madja's tutelage, brought in to assist with Feyre's pregnancy. You'd been visiting the River House regularly to do milestone checks on Nyx. During that time, both he and Feyre had struck up a friendship with you. He'd never seen you so much as raise your voice.

It's all she's said to us, Nesta is furious. Rhys' eyes drifted to where Cassian stood, gulping down his glass of water.

"We're needed at the River House."

Cassian raised a brow at the seriousness of the tone as he moved across the training room towards his brother.

"What happened?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. But we should get back before Nesta goes on the warpath." Cassian considered for a moment before taking to the skies, seemingly spurred by whatever he felt down his mating bond. Rhys launched himself after his brother before sending a reassuring message to his own mate.

We're on our way.

Elain sat nestled next to Feyre on the sofa. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief as her sister rubbed soothing circles on her back. Nesta was pacing in front of the fireplace, the swish of her dress and hard clack of her heels against the hardwood felt too loud in the otherwise silent room. Rhys stood for a moment in the doorway, assessing the scene in front of him as Cassian passed him to join Nesta. She ignored him, continuing to pace.

Rhys approached his mate and Elain, settling himself on the arm of the sofa at Feyre's side. He casts an assessing gaze over the middle Archeron sister. Her other arm, the one not wiping at her face, was laid in her lap as Feyre held a compress of ice over the wrist.

Rhys let out a low sigh, running his hands through his hair as he worked through possible avenues of action. He reopened his mental connection with Feyre.

Has she said anything else? Feyre turned away from her sister where she sat staring into space.

No, Madja's on her way though. It's strange, she said she hasn't seen Y/N in days, she was supposed to be visiting her family in the Day Court. None of this makes any sense, why would Y/N do this?

Unease sat heavily in Rhys' stomach. Could something have happened to you on your travels? He thought of Braillyn and the manipulation the crown had afforded her over the minds of others. The Dread Trove was safe, was this a different horror Koschei was responsible for? Was he trying to target his family through you? It would make sense, you visited the River House regularly and both he and Feyre had left Nyx unattended in your care on more than one occasion.

He felt Madja's approach as she let herself in, inclining her head towards himself and Feyre where they sat. She settled herself on Elain's other side, reaching for her arm. Feyre moved her hand and the compress away, revealing a slight bruising and swelling on the skin underneath.

"We need to find her, she can't just attack Elain like this." Nesta's voice cut sharp as a blade across the room, Elain's tears starting fresh at her words. Madja lifted her gaze from where she was assessing Elain's wrist, tilting her hand in gentle exercises to assess the range of movement.

"Perhaps you can continue this discussion outside?" Rhys caught the pointed look the healer gave him. He nodded, standing and placing his hand on the small of Feyre's back as she did the same. Nesta watched them for a moment before stomping towards the door; disappearing into the foyer.

Feyre shot him a look, grey-blue eyes filled with worry as they moved to follow her out. Nesta continued to pace outside the room as they shut the door, the low sound of Madja's soothing voice travelling through the wood.

"We have to do something."

"Nesta, we shouldn't do anything rash." Feyre's voice was firm as she addressed her, switching smoothly from comforting sister to High Lady of the Night Court. "Not until we have more information."

"Well she," Nesta gestured towards the closed door and her distressed sister, "isn't saying anything. So I say we find Y/N and get her to tell us what happened."

Rhys was inclined to agree, but held some reservations as to what exactly Nesta deemed an appropriate method of finding out information when it pertained to the middle Archeron sister.

"Feyre's right, we shouldn't be hasty about this." He met Nesta's eyes, filled with burning silver fire. "You're too close to this," he continued. "Why don't you go back to the House, blow off some steam and we'll discuss this later when we know the full story." Cassian moved closer to Nesta's side, a comforting hand on her arm as she stared Rhys down. He watched as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another. Rhys recognised the mind-stilling technique she favoured to keep her grounded.

Her eyes were still bright with anger when she opened them again, but she seemed calmer than she had been before. She gave a small nod. Cassian tucked her under an arm as they made their way to the front door.

"We'll send for you when we know something." Cassian nodded to Rhys over his shoulder but Nesta didn't turn back to look at either of them. The door closed with a thud behind them.

Feyre looked at where her sister and brother-in-law stood a moment before. She turned, making her way down the hall Rhys study.

"What do you think we should do?"

"I'll search the city for her, we could send a note? Ask her to meet us both?" Feyre nodded in agreement.

"We should make contact with Az." Rhys considered, reluctant to disturb his brother when he'd asked for a rare week off to visit his mother in Illyria. The request had been sudden and abrupt. Az had sent word close to midnight a few days prior. He hadn't written much, other than he needed some time away from his duties and that he'd reach out to Rhys later on in the week. He had been concerned at the out of character behaviour, apprehensive that something serious must have happened. Azriel had evaded requests for more information; saying that he'd brief Rhys on his return.

"When we know more," he paused with Feyre on the threshold of the study. "I don't want to call him back when it may turn out to be nothing serious."

Feyre hummed in agreement.

"I just...I don't understand, why would she do something like this? We gave her access to our son, Rhys. She didn't seem..." Feyre trailed off. Before she could continue the sound of a throat clearing came from the kitchen door. They turned in tandem, both sets of eyes fixed on the twins that appeared out of the shadows there.

"We...We think this may be our fault." Nuala's voice was quiet as she spoke for both of them, hands clasped together tightly as they stood before their High Lord and Lady.

"How could this possibly be your fault?" Feyre didn't hide the surprise in her tone. Their dark eyes were unreadable but Rhys didn't miss the glance they both gave towards the closed door where Elain still sat with Madja.

He opened the door to the office, gesturing in invitation to the twins to follow Feyre and him in.

Rhys sat in the high-backed chair behind the desk, Feyre perched on his lap as they listened to Nuala and Cerridwen's tale.

"Azriel instructed us not to tell anyone where he was when he sent word. She saw us putting together a basket, asked us who it was for. We didn't see any harm in telling her we were making it for him," Cerridwen's face was grave as she spoke. "Elain wanted to help, so we baked the bread together. She went to the garden after that, and Nuala left to deliver it."

"I know she didn't follow," Nuala cut in, her voice shaking. "I would have noticed if she had."

"Perhaps she saw where you went in one of her visions?" Feyre supplied. She bestowed her a small comforting smile, Rhys could feel her sympathy for the twins through the bond. They cared about Elain; even without his daemati powers you could read the guilt they shared.

"But it was here? In Velaris?" Rhys asked. Nuala looked at her twin, a silent conversation happening between them, before she nodded her head. Rhys' stomach turned to lead. Azriel had lied to him about where he was. Rhys knew that Azriel had his secrets, maybe more than anyone else in the Inner Circle. But he'd never known him to be overtly dishonest, not with his family.

"What happened after that?" Feyre's voice was gentle as she pushed for more information.

None of this makes any sense.

I know. Feyre squeezed his hand, the one that she had clasped between both of her own beneath the desk, as she sent reassuring waves down the bond.

"We were both preparing lunch after that. We didn't see her again, until you did." Feyre had shown him the memory as he'd flown towards the house. Elain bursting through the front door, arm clutched to her chest and tears streaming down her face. She hadn't said anything as Nesta had taken her into her arms, demanding to know what had happened.

"Would it be possible that Elain met Y/N on the way to...where Azriel is?" Feyre addressed the question to the room but it was Cerridwen that answered her.

"I don't think so, my lady. It's...out of the way, you wouldn't stumble upon it by accident." Rhys didn't miss the look Nuala sent her, dark eyes on fire. Cerridwen sunk back into her chair, realising that perhaps she'd said too much. Rhys pressed though, he couldn't leave it.

"So that would mean that either Y/N followed Elain from the house on purpose or she was there? With Azriel?"He suspected it was the latter, and the twins certainly knew more about it than they were willing to share. They both looked down, pointedly avoiding Rhys' gaze.

"We promised, my lord."

"We could do it together if you want?" Feyre's hand toyed at his neck, tracing the Illyrian tattoos etched into the skin. They'd dismissed Nuala and Cerridwen back to their duties while they discussed the next step to take. They had both agreed that reaching out to Azriel was the best course of action, to follow the lead of his potential involvement before they took any further steps concerning you.

Rhys was torn. He wanted Feyre to be involved, but it felt too personal. Azriel hadn't lied to her. But he had to him, his brother, his High Lord. Azriel, whom he had always trusted. Feyre would moderate his temper, if the need arose, but a dark volatile part of him didn't want that.

A quiet knock sounded on the door. Feyre called out for Madja to enter, already sensing her standing on the other side. Her smile was reassuring as she moved to stand in front of them at the desk.

"A nasty sprain, but no broken bones." Some of the tension seemed to leave Feyre's shoulders as she let out a relieved sigh. "I've recommended she rest it, keep it elevated," Madja continued, "it should be back to normal within a few days."

"Thank you Madja, we appreciate you coming out of you way." Feyre's tone was warm as she spoke to the elderly fae.

"It's my pleasure, my lady."

"Did Elain say anything to you? About what happened?"

Madja frowned, before shaking her head. "Nothing that made much sense. She mentioned a door and being pushed, she didn't say any more than that." Madja took a step closer to the desk, worrying the fabric of the apron she wore between her fingers.

"If I may..." She paused, waiting for further invitation to speak. Rhys gestured with a hand for her to continue.

"I've known Y/N since she was a girl," Madja's voice wavered as she spoke, in all the years Rhys had known her he'd never seen her close to tears before. "She wouldn't do something like this it's not in her nature," Madja paused before quickly adding, "not to discredit your sister, High Lady." Rhys watched Feyre as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she listened to the healer.

"This situation is highly unusual, Madja. We need to speak to the parties involved, gather more information." Rhys speech was clinical, playing High Lord rather than concerned brother-in-law.

"I'll take my leave then."

I should see to Elain. Feyre slipped off his lap with a parting brush of her lips against his cheek before following Madja out of the room. Rhys rested his elbows on the desk in front of him and lowered his head into his hands.

After taking a few minutes to collect himself Rhys began using his power to comb through the city, brushing past the minds of his citizens as they went about their daily lives. It took longer than he thought, identifying the distinct signature of his brother, as recognisable to him as his own after 500 years. Cloistered on the outskirts of the city, the surrounding land reserved for farming crops with very few residences. He felt another presence there, one less familiar to him, yours.

Rhys brushed a talon against Azriel's mental shields, a teeming cluster of darkness not unlike the shadows he wielded, and waited. The tick of the clock as the seconds passed by had Rhys on edge, he was considering pushing again, this time more firmly, when the shadows created a small opening just big enough for him to slip through.

Rhys didn't bother with a greeting. His mental voice was harsh, more than he meant it to be, as it reverberated around the dark antechamber.

You have ten seconds to explain why you are not in Illyria, and why my mate is consoling her injured sister before I come and find you, and we have this conversation in person. Conversation was a very polite term to use for what would inevitably become a battle of wills, and potentially blades, between the High Lord and his Spymaster.

Don't you fucking dare, Rhys. Azriel's voice was ice. The hostile rage that bubbled underneath shook Rhys out of his own for a moment. It was like its own living thing, driven by base instincts to defend against a threat at all costs. The force of it almost pushed him out. Rhys bridled his own surprise and rage down.

Okay, Rhys' voice was soothing, carried on a night-kissed wind. I won't do that Az, but you need to talk to me.

The storm of Azriel's emotions seemed to calm a little, Rhys could feel the effort he was putting in, wrestling for control that was usually so militant. He waited for his brother to speak for a few moments before continuing.

Why don't you start with where you are, and why Nuala and Cerridwen are involved?

He thought that Azriel was going to hold fast in his reticence. Instead his voice, missing some of the frigid quality it had before, answered after a few beats.

I own a property on the outskirts of the city, I've been here since I sent word asking for leave. Azriel paused before continuing, Nuala and Cerridwen were just doing what I asked, they don't need to be a part of this. Rhys should have expected this. Azriel always knew how to toe the line between answering what was asked without giving any substantial information.

And what is it that you asked them to do for you? Because they wouldn't tell us, because of some promise they made to you.

They delivered some supplies to me.

Supplies?

Food and other basic necessities.

And is there a reason you couldn't retrieve these for yourself? Why you're sequestered away in some property we're unaware of with one of our healers? Rhys tried to press against the walls of Azriel's mind to see what else he could feel or sense but it yielded nothing. Are you injured Az? Worry bloomed. As out of character as it was for Azriel to lie to his family, if it was because he was injured and didn't want any of them to know, to worry, Rhys could rationalise that.

No. Rhys could feel Azriel's attention, drawn away to whatever was going in outside his mind, still only half maintaining their communication. Is Elain okay?

Are you talking to Y/N? I know she's there with you.

Azriel hesitated before answering. Yes.

Elain is saying that Y/N attacked her, is that true? Did you see what happened?

I did, but it was an accident Rhys. She didn't mean to.

She says she was pushed. I'm not sure how that can be considered an accident, Azriel. Rhys tried to keep a handle on his agitation, but this conversation was going nowhere quickly. Why don't you show me what happened, then we can put this whole thing to bed.

A tidal wave rose, angry and biting as it chased Rhys towards the gap in the barrier he entered from. Rhys retreated back from it, shocked by it's sudden appearance.

No. Azriel's snarled response rebounded around his head.

Fine, I'll take it up with Y/N if this is how you're going to act.

Wait, don't. The emotion receded as quickly as it came, leaving Rhys toeing the edge of the empty chamber. Leave her out of this Rhys, it's my fault.

Oh? She's assaulted a member of our Court, Azriel.

She's my mate, Rhys. Rhys thought for a moment that he hadn't heard him correctly. But it made sense, the instinctual frenzy of emotion that seemed eager to slip his brother's control. We didn't tell you in the beginning, we wanted to get to know each other without any added...pressure.

Az, this is wonderful news...unexpected but wonderful. But we wouldn't have pressured you, either of you, into anything.

I know, I just...I was being selfish, Rhys. And we were so caught up in each other. I said I'd talk to you when I got back, I was going to tell you then. Rhys didn't hide the happiness he felt, letting his brother feel it freely, It was a bit spur of the moment, deciding to accept the bond. That's why I asked Nuala and Cerridwen for help, they knew where we were.

I'm happy for you, Az. Rhys allowed himself to bask for a moment in the joy that he could feel from his brother as he spoke about you. A part of him wanted to leave then, to retreat from his brother's mind and leave him to enjoy this special, if volatile time, as a newly mated male. But there was still a piece of this puzzle missing. What happened with Elain?

It is my fault Rhys, I should have sensed her coming. But we were preoccupied. Azriel's discomfort put Rhys own teeth on edge as he continued. We were in the living room and Elain opened the door, Y/N panicked and slammed it with gust of wind.

Panicked?

We were...indisposed.

You're joking, Rhys barely managed to choke the words out as he tried to contain his laughter.

Its not funny, Rhysand. He could almost see his brother grinding his teeth in agitation. By the time we made ourselves decent, Elain had already left. I was going to come to the house to see if she was okay, but Y/N is really upset that she may have hurt her. Rhys understood what he didn't say, that he couldn't leave his mate like that.

Tell her it's just a sprain, nothing serious.

That's a relief. If we're done here- Rhy's didn't allow Azriel to finish, already taking his leave.

Rhys watched the sun set set over the Sidra as he ruminated on the strange events the day had taken, and how he was going to defuse the tension from this morning before Azriel returned, likely with Y/N in tow.

Your POV

Steam curled into the air from the water of the bath. The heat soothed the ache in your muscles, ones that you didn't even know you had were making their displeasure known, as you adjusted your position to lean back against Azriel. His arm slipped around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest as scarred fingers traced circles over your midriff. You sighed in contentment as Azriel continued his ministrations, feeling his smile against the skin of you neck. He brushed the sensitive skin with a delicate kiss. Neither of you spoke as you sat there, enjoying the comfortable silence and basking in the feeling of the new golden thread that tied you together.

Azriel reached to the edge of the tub where the basket of toiletries lay, filled with your favourite scents curtesy of the shadow wraith twins, and grabbed a soft cloth and a bar of sweet smelling soap. You groaned as he began to gently massage the lather on the cloth into the skin of arms and shoulders, adjusting slightly to give him better access. You turned your head, resting it in the cradle of Azriel's shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes.

Over the few months that you'd known him, you'd come to admire his stoic beauty. Rich hazel eyes framed by thick lashes and dark brows. His sharp features and full lips that erupted butterflies in your stomach every time he gifted you with an alluring smile or tantalising smirk. As your relationship had progressed he'd become more open is displaying his emotions with you, less prone to cloaking himself in his shadows. But you'd never in that time seen such open contentment displayed on his features.

You watched as his eyes tracked the path his hand drew with the cloth against your body. You brought a hand out of the warm cocoon of the water to trace the map of markings across his shoulders, following the trail up his neck with tender kisses. Azriel's chest rumbled his approval. The flare of his wings sent ripples across the surface of the bath as you let a soft breath out against the delicate shell of his ear.

"It appears my little mate is rather insatiable." Azriel sighed, feigning exasperation as he moved the cloth lower, down off your shoulders to brush the top of your breasts.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The hand on his shoulder reached to brush a single fingertip against the sensitive membrane of a wing as you smirked into his neck.

"Careful." Azriel growled, taking the circles he was tracing on your midriff dangerously lower. Even though the past few days had been filled with nothing but Azriel, the feel of his skin against yours, the taste of him on your tongue, there was a burning pit of desire that demanded more. You felt as though you could live a thousand more years and never tire of the feeling of him holding you in his arms. The thought of leaving the little bubble of bliss you'd created here was like a cold water shock. Thinking of the potential repercussions you'd face of what happened earlier left the sting of bile in the back of your mouth.

Azriel's hands stilled as he sensed the shift in your mood. You buried your face into his neck, closing your eyes and letting his scent calm your racing heart. Azriel abandoned the cloth to place his hand on the back of you head, carting his fingers through your hair. He made a low soothing noise.

"It's okay," he continued to massage his fingers against your scalp as he spoke. "It was an accident, no one is going to blame you."

"Elain will, she probably hates me." Your voice broke as you tried to hold back the guilt that had been plaguing you, such a start contrast to the joy and ravenous hunger.

"She'll understand. The others will too, Rhys actually found it very amusing."

"Oh cauldron boil me." You could imagine it now, the smirking good natured jibes from the high-lord and the likely even less subtle innuendos his general would deal out to you.

"Come on," the fingers dancing through your hair stopped. "Look at me." Part of you wanted to continue to hide as the anxiety and embarrassment coiled inside of you, but as Azriel moved to cup your cheek you lifted your face away to look at him. His eyes were soft as he took in your face, so close that you could see flecks of green and gold constellating around the iris. His thumb rubbed gently against you cheek.

"I just want to stay here for the rest of our lives." Azriel smiled gently and hummed his agreement, leaning forward to press his lips against the skin of your forehead.

"Unfortunately, I think we'll be missed." He considered for a moment before adding. "And I wouldn't put it past Cassian to break down the door and drag me back to civilised society." You loosed a small smile at his attempt to make light of the situation, but it still did nothing to quell the apprehension and doubts.

You'd so desperately wanted to make a good impression. It had all been planned out. After the week was done; once you and Azriel had returned to your normal lives, he would have announced the mating bond to his family. You'd planned to host a dinner, let them get to know you outside your capacity as a healer. Hoped to create the foundations for meaningful relationships. Instead, you'd ruined it before you'd even started, injuring the High Lady's sister and forcing Azriel to do damage control on your behalf.

"I'm just...I'm sorry Az, I know how important your family is to you. I can't believe I've screwed this up."

"They are important to me." He agreed, thumb stroking gently against your face. "But so are you. I've waited centuries to find you, and you're so much more than I dreamed you'd be." Tears welled in your eyes at his declaration. "I love you, and I know my family will love you too." You reached up to capture his lips in a delicate kiss, despite the gravity of the situation feeling his lips quirk into a smile against your own made your heart sing. You parted, and he began to trail kisses across your cheek.

"Rhys and Feyre already like you, they trust you with Nyx. Everyone else will fall victim to your charming smile and witty sense of humour, I'm sure." He murmured in your ear as he traced his nose against the soft skin of your neck.

"We'll face them together when the time comes." He whispered the promise into your skin as he paved a line of tender kisses to a particularly sensitive spot he'd discovered in the last few days, taking extra care to pay it the most attention.

You sighed and arched your back, allowing him greater access to your neck and chest. Azriel's affirmations had quelled the storm within you, leaving heat and hunger in the wake of his lips.

"But, we've got a few days before anyone is expecting us back. And I have plans for you." Azriel's voice turned husky at the end, the heady promise made your toes curl as you pressed yourself closer against him.

"Oh?" You breathed as his lips began to chart a course across your chest, skimming across the tops of your breasts. You felt more than heard as he hummed an affirmation against the delicate skin. "And what would those plans be?"

Azriel's wings flared as your hand found his hair, winding the strands between your fingers. He stopped lathing delicate kisses against your skin to look up at you through dark lashes, eyes light and mischievous. His grin was positively wicked, canines flashing in the light.

"Why don't I show you."

#azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar series #acotar fanfiction

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simonrillleyyysss · 4 months

Note

With all respect,….. nasty Nikto makeout fic pls queen 😳😳

geiififkrkfoffldkdir ruff ruff ruff

spit, teeth and lips—

the gentle moans falling from your chest were quickly muffled by the sound of wet affections, tongue gliding past his mouth swiftly; watching his brows knit together in amusement, large hands gripping at the sides of your hips, letting you nestle atop his lap.

‘Я не могу жить без тебя…’

nikto grumbled into your mouth, your fingers tracing down the seams of his shirt, head cocked to the side, his curved nose brushing against your cheek momentarily as he pulled away, your lips parted as soft breaths whispered against the warmth of his cheek,his own pants mixing with yours.

‘nikto…’

your palm came to rest on his scarred jaw, staring at his dull, heavy eyes. hand running through his overgrown buzzcut, lips parted in similarity, chest rising and falling, growling.

‘yes?’

‘you’re so fuckin’ hot..’

within seconds, he was ripping your shirt over your head— lips smashing against yours with primal hunger and desperation, thumbs playing with the perk of your nipples over your bra; forcing your head to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss, teeth clashing and spit mixing.

it was dirty, and raw.

your hands roamed across his broad hair chest, grinding against his lap absentmindedly, earning a swift slap to your cheek, his large hand encapsulating your cheeks, squishing them together with a scowl, your eyes glossed over, lips slick.

‘behave, малышонок. we’ve been over this, yes?’

‘niikkkk….’

a soft cry left your chest, attempting to tug your shirt over your head; feeling him grip your thigh, spitting on ur tongue.

‘bad girl.’

#nikto x female reader #nikto x reader smut #mwii nikto #nikto cod #cod nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto smut #nikto x reader #nikto fluff #nikto #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simonrillleyyysss #💞} riley speaks<3

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xbellaxcarolinax · 11 months

Text

Need You

Marc Spector x f!reader

Word count: 2588

Summary: In the middle of the night, when Marc comes home, is when he needs you the most.

Warnings: S m u t. Nasty, filthy, smut. Specifically: oral (both male and female receiving), riding, and p in v (no protection), let's add praise kink to be safe. Which means this is NSFW. Which means minors DNI. Also language. That's a big one. Marc can't help it.

There's fluff too, probably very cheesy. So bad omg. Smut with no plot. Not beta read. Let me know if ya'll like <3

...

The bed dipped and you stirred, your mind foggy—caught between consciousness and the realm of sleep. Your bleary eyes cracked open, vision hazy in the darkness. You managed a quick glimpse at the digital clock on the nightstand.

3:55 AM.

Your eyes fell shut as you stretched your limbs like a cat under the sun, a tired little whine escaping you. You had work in a few hours.

Turning over, you collided with the warmth of bare skin. Strong arms immediately wrapped around you, calloused fingers burying under your too-large t-shirt to skim down the dip of your spine. A warm kiss to your temple had you sighing in contentment and you breathed in the fresh scent of body wash as your hands slowly glided over damp skin. Your fingers traced the familiar ridges of marred flesh, tiny scars from the past that led up to the thin golden chain nestled comfortably between you both.

"Marc?" His name felt thick on your tongue. You knew it was him by touch alone. He was the one that held you as if afraid of losing you. He’d dreamed about it enough times to fear it, and each time, you reassured him that he wouldn't.

"Yeah, baby, it's me," he muttered, drawing small circles over your skin, "didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay. Missed you." You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your voice heavy with sleep. Marc hummed, a hand slowly trailing down your back to grab the globes of your ass under your thin panties, giving each of them a gentle squeeze.

"Missed you, too." He said into your hair, kissing your bed-slept strands. You tipped your head back to look him in the eyes. The moonlight peeking through the blinds did little to illuminate his features, but you could make out the contours of his face, the prominent line of his nose. His eyes, dark and hooded, were focused on nothing but you. It was a stare you were well acquainted with. To others, it was deadly. To you, it was nothing but pure affection.

"You okay?" You asked him as you always did after he came home from a mission, reaching up to cradle the side of his face. His stubble was rough under your fingertips, your thumb lovingly caressing his cheekbone. He didn’t shave, probably too tired, but you didn’t mind.

"Yeah," he sighed into your touch, lashes fluttering, "I'm okay. Better now." You could feel the hardness of his bulge through his boxers. He was needy, pushing his length against you in a silent plea for attention. You chuckled tiredly, shifting to press your lips over his eager ones. It started innocent enough, lips fusing like puzzle pieces in a dance you both knew well.

Marc peppered kisses over every inch of your face before gently sucking a bruise onto the delicate skin of your neck. You groaned, your fingers threading through his damp curls, easing him off just a bit.

"What's gotten into you?" You breathed, relishing the way his tongue lapped over the mark he'd left to soothe the ache.

"Need you, baby," he grunted, trailing his plush lips over your face, “need to feel you.”

"Yeah?" You shuddered, a throbbing need blooming between your legs, "then take what you need."

As soon as you uttered those words, one of his hands came to rest behind the nape of your neck, guiding you into another heated kiss. It was filthy this time—wet—tongues and teeth clashing sloppily. Not so innocent anymore.

Okay, so Marc wanted it messy. Who were you to deny him?

The night lamp was quickly switched on, and all thoughts on getting any sleep were left in the dust, not that you minded too much. You ended up between his legs with his boxers gone and your t-shirt flug somewhere, your knees cushioned by the pillow Marc had placed on the floor for you.

"Let me take care of you." You purred, breathing over his cock before spitting on it without hesitation. You watched it run down his length and over the curve of his balls, seeping into the sheets below. Your eyes followed the stream with fascination before you devoured him whole, working your lips back and forth, from base to swollen tip.

Marc was seated at the edge of the bed breathing heavily, one of his forearms propping him up while the other hand disappeared in your hair, guiding you.

"You take me so well, sweetheart," he whispered, eyes lidded as he watched you work, "love how you choke on my cock." And as if to prove his point he weaved his fingers into your hair, shoving your face into his pelvis. He made you sputter and wheeze, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. More spit dribbled past your lips and down his length, as you sucked and sucked and sucked.

"Fuck, baby, you know exactly what I need, don't you?" He groaned, his head lolling to the side lazily. You hummed, letting your glossy eyes flutter just a bit when you glanced up at him, making sure to hold his gaze for a moment before lowering them again. You knew that drove him crazy.

And it did, judging by the growl that rumbled in his chest. He tapped a finger over the tip of your nose, a signal for you to stop. You obediently pulled away with a loud pop, licking your swollen lips free of the salty precome that lingered.

"Fuck, c'mere," Marc snarled, surging forward and lifting you to straddle him. He fell back against the bed, letting your hands roam the expanse of his smooth chest, your fingers lightly grazing over his skin from collarbone to navel and back up again. You openly admired him—the sheen of sweat over his tanned skin, the swell of his muscles as he held you tight, his glazed eyes following your every move.

"You're beautiful," you murmured, carefully taking hold of the delicate chain around his neck before dipping forward to kiss him. His arms wrapped tighter around your form, holding you against him. He smirked into the kiss, the tiniest huff of laughter pouring over you.

"Never been called beautiful before," he said between kisses, giving your ass a nice slap. You moaned at the light sting, grinding your clothed cunt over his slippery cock, desperate to be filled. Marc hissed, his hand pressing down on your lower back to encourage your grinding, the tip of his cock wet and leaking over his stomach.

"Shit," he panted as you pressed your nose against his lovingly, "you wanna ride me, pretty girl?"

“Mhm.” You whimpered, feeling the pad of his thick finger press against your core, relishing in its moist heat before pulling the soaked fabric of your panties aside.

“Go ahead, baby.”

Firmly planting a hand on his chest, you lined up his cock with your entrance before taking a breath and sinking slowly, swallowing him inch by inch.

“Mmmm, God,” you moaned, pausing as soon as you took him to the hilt, “fuuuuck, Marc.”

“My cock too much for you, sweetheart?” You could hear the smugness in his tone despite his panting. His hands flew to your hips, slowly raising them to feel your walls flutter against his length before bringing you back down gently, “You can take it, I know you can—yeah, that’s it, baby.”

You choked out a sob as you rocked up and down his thick cock, whimpering at the delicious stretch. Despite having had him more times than you could count, it still made you breathless at how well he stuffed you, how deep he could reach inside and make you see stars.

"Baby, I think you got it all wrong," Marc grunted, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided you faster and faster.

"W-what?" You pushed Marc's damp hair away from his brow, watching how his hooded eyes were pinned to your face.

"I'm not the beautiful one here. Lookit you, you’re so fucking beautiful like this, so fucking pretty when you cream all over my cock, fuuuck." He looked at you with so much adoration, like he couldn't believe you were his. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and you continued to spear yourself on his length with your lip pressed between your teeth. His words went straight to your core, drowning him in your juices.

Within seconds Marc had you on your back, one of his hands pinning both your wrists above your head.

"So fucking beautiful." He said again, his heated gaze roaming over your body before he dipped down to give you a bruising kiss. His necklace swung in the duvet between your collarbones, the pendant barely skimming the surface of your skin.

You loved being under him, loved the way he moved over you and manipulated your body. He was the musician and you the instrument. He played you sweetly, expert fingers trailing over your skin and down the valley of your breasts to tweak a pert nipple before continuing his journey in search of the treasure held within you. He quickly dragged down your panties—now completely soaked—pulling them down your legs with your help and flinging the flimsy thing somewhere across the room to be forgotten.

"Goddamn." He breathed, dragging his middle and ring fingers over your cunt, spreading your juices over his digits. You were a sopping mess, coating his fingers with every sigh and mewl that escaped you. "You're so fucking wet, baby—you're soaking the sheets."

"Mhm," you moaned, feeling a bit vulnerable stretched out under him. Your thighs were spread so he could inspect you, and all you could see was his crown of curls between your legs, his breath fanning over your cunt until suddenly he spits on it. "Oh my God," you tossed your head back with a groan. Your toes flexed and your thighs shook as you fought to release your hands. You wanted to touch him, desperate to feel his skin under your fingertips.

"Marc," you begged through sobs, though you weren't too sure what you were begging for exactly, "p-please." He smiled, taking pity on you, releasing you from his grip.

"Be a good girl and let me take care of you now, can you do that for me?" He took his cock in hand and rubbed the underside over your messy cunt, tapping it until you were begging for him to put it in.

"I'll be good," you choked, "just put it in me, please, in me, in me, in me—" you chanted until he silenced you with his lips, and in one fell swoop he entered you to the hilt unforgivingly. You’d scream if you could but Marc swallowed all your moans and squeals, silencing you as he moved above you gracefully.

Your hands flew to grip his arms as he practically folded you in half, reaching the deepest parts of you with ease. You ripped your lips away to let out a series of whimpers.

"I know, baby, I know, I got you, doing so good for me," Marc heaved, "so fucking tight." He pressed his chest flush against yours, burying his face in your neck to silence his moans.

You were cockdrunk, mouth hanging open as he slammed into your sopping core with a precision that only he seemed to have. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, the head of his dick kissing you where you needed it most.

Suddenly your body seized up and your pussy tightened as you came.

You swore you were on a different plane, a different galaxy even, floating away as pleasure rippled through you like an electrical current. You could barely hear him cooing at you, whispering pretty things in your ear as you gushed all over his cock.

"I-I love you," the confession slipped past your lips quicker than you could think it through, too high off your blissful orgasm. You meant it—of course, you meant it—but this wasn't the way you had planned to tell him, blissed out your mind with tears blurring your vision and drool running down your chin.

It had lay heavy on your mind for a while now, ruminating, waiting for the right moment.

This hadn't been your intention.

You could barely react to your mistake, your mind now fuzzy with Marc's pretty whimpers.

"T-that's it pretty girl, that's it," he moaned, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, "you did so well for me, baby, so perfect. You're perfect." He babbled on as his thrusting became more sloppy and uncoordinated, chasing his own high.

"Come inside," you whined, barely finding your voice, "come inside me, Marc, please, I wanna feel you." One hand was buried in his hair while the other dragged down the expanse of his broad back, your nails marking his skin with angry red lines.

"Fuck," he moaned as he slammed into you one final time, releasing his thick spend inside.

He laid atop of you for a few moments, both of you struggling to catch your breath. Your limbs were a tangled, sweaty mess, useless for much else but laying there in a euphoric state.

Marc pressed a kiss over your collarbone before slowly holding himself up on shaky arms, gently removing his softening cock from inside you. His cum trickled out, a stream of white running down from your hole and straight into the sheets to join your juices.

"You're a mess," he tutted quietly, immediately diving down to clean you up with his skillful mouth. Within minutes he had you coming again, his tongue lapping in and around you in search of every drop you had to offer until you yanked him away by the hair from the overstimulation.

"You're gonna kill me." You panted, reaching for him with shaky hands. He chuckled, pulling you in his arms as he smiled into your neck.

"Hope not," he muttered tiredly, holding you in the same position he had you in when he first arrived home, "love you too much."

"Hmm?" Your eyes lose their haziness from earlier, instantly alert and searching Marc's features for any signs of falseness in the statement. But you couldn't. His brown eyes seemed to hold nothing but honesty. You hoped he didn't feel forced to return the sentiment. You knew he cared for you a great deal, but that didn't mean he was necessarily ready to express it.

"Marc," you could feel your brows pull together in concern, "you don't have to—I didn't mean for you—" He silenced you with a kiss, long and sleepy, pouring everything he had with that one action.

"I love you," he said, clear as day, surging forward to kiss your brow. "I love you." He said again, kissing the tip of your nose. "I love you." A kiss on each cheek. "I love you." A kiss to your chin. "I love you." A kiss to your swollen lips before resting his head over yours. And that was that.

You choked, tears springing to your eyes but you said nothing more, just curled yourself into him as he rubbed your back in soothing circles. After a while, you felt your eyes grow heavy and you gave the clock one final glance over Marc's shoulder.

5:21 AM

It's okay, you thought, nothing wrong with calling out from work later that morning.

You fell asleep moments later to the sounds of Marc's sleepy whispers-

I love you, I love you, I love you—

#marc spector smut #moon knight #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector #marc spector x reader #moon knight smut

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writesleah · 5 months

Text

the way i loved you ✰ m. riddle

➻ pairing: reader x mattheo riddle, brief reader x cedric diggory

➻ genre: angst/fluff

➻ summary: after a hard breakup, you had finally moved on and found your perfect man. he was everything you could’ve asked for, but the lingering thoughts of your ex take a toll on you

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and fighting, borderline betraying cedric :(

➻ word count: 1.8k

➻ a/n: if it’s not already completely obvious, i was listening to the way i loved you by taylor swift when i thought of this lmaooo i couldn’t fight the taylor references so there is a couple in here, it’s just my deep rooted swiftie mindset

“hey baby. you look beautiful today,” cedric smiled, sitting down at the slytherin table next to you, a bold move for a hufflepuff, but everybody thought he was far too good looking to say anything. well, some people.

mattheo riddle had the absolute nerve to speak up, as if he hadn’t completely ruined your life only months before.

“alright, diggory?” he snorted, looking your boyfriend up and down with disgust. he and cedric probably could’ve gotten along just fine if it wasn’t for the clashing common interest that seemed to have mattheo spitting as many nasty comments as he could - you, “i see you’re still pissing about with her.”

he didn’t even bother to say your name when he was talking about you. twat. you felt your anger starting to pool up in your stomach, a force threatening to take over until a soft hand placed itself on your hip.

“just ignore him, okay?” cedric smiled down at you, encouraging you to do exactly what he was doing. you nodded.

“it’s fine. he’s just… yeah,” you sighed, scrunching your eyes a couple times before continuing to eat, doing your best to ignore mattheo’s presence on just a couple seats down.

—

“he’s perfect,” pansy sighed, practically drooling over your relationship.

you had shown the girls the card he had made for valentines day, which was honestly the smallest thing he’d done for you on the day. he had a tendency to show his affection as much as he possibly could, making you experience every single love language at least once a week.

“that’s adorable, oh my god,” daphne gushed, reading the card over and over. it was a sweet message where he described his love for you, and it definitely warmed your heart, “i’m actually so jealous of what you guys have, it’s not even funny. astoria, come read this.”

astoria made her way over to the group and took the pale pink card from her sister’s hands, her eyes scanning the words that practically formed a letter with how many cedric had written. the three of you watched as her face contorted into an expression of admiration and light jealousy, her cheeks slightly pink.

“stop it, you’re going to make me cry knowing that i don’t have a man that loves me like this,” she whined, punctuating her words with a small laugh.

cedric was your ideal boyfriend. he was attractive, sensible, smart and kind. he got along with your parents and siblings, and always made sure to compliment you in some way every time he saw you. he said everything you ever wanted to hear, and was just perfect for you, so why couldn’t you get mattheo out of your head?

“i need to ask you all something,” you blurted out, a little annoyed at yourself for doing so, but also relieved that you could get it off your chest.

the trio looked over at you with raised eyebrows, waiting for you to continue.

“what is it?” pansy murmured, her head tilted just slightly as her eyes studied you.

"okay, let's just say... hypothetically, you have the most perfect, incredible boyfriend and could never ask for anything better, but… there’s this pesky little lingering thought about a certain past endeavour that you can’t get out of your head.”

the girls looked at you a little confused, though daphne’s expression quickly hardened. she knew exactly what you were talking about.

“please tell me you’re not still thinking about riddle,” she groaned in disappointment, shaking her head whilst running her hands over her face. the other two expressed disapproving noises and sighs, looking at you as if you’d just told them you were going to kill someone.

“it’s mattheo, what do you want me to do?” you mumbled defensively, helping it would support your case a little, but it just made them give you a glare.

“i don’t get what you see in him. he’s a boring, lazy prick who skips every class he possibly can to smoke weed and get plastered with his equally as boring and lazy roadman gang,” astoria huffed with a small shrug, looking at you with more concern than anything, “all you guys would do was scream at each other and cry about it all, and then go and make out in the rain or something, which i suppose is pretty hot, but it doesn’t make up for all the arguing.”

“you go insane when you’re with him. i didn’t even know it was possible to feel that much, but you definitely proved that it is,” pansy snorted, though it was clear her comment wasn’t really a joke.

you just sighed and brushed it off, promising that you wouldn’t do anything. it was just something on your mind, right?

—

you were walking in the corridor on your own, cedric just having left to get to his class, which was on the complete other side of the school to yours.

“rare to see you without prince charming these days. have you broken up already?”

you knew who it was when the first word was spoken, and after days of trying to get him out of your mind, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“do you have nothing better to do than terrorise me and my relationship, riddle?” you spat, turning around to face the boy, though your expression quickly dropped when you saw crimson blood spattered across his face, “why am i not surprised?”

“wow, last name basis now, princess?” he chuckled, brushing off your comment about his injuries with a small huff of either annoyance or amusement, you couldn’t really tell.

you tried to walk away, not wanting to involve yourself in his antics when you couldn’t trust yourself to not snap without somebody nearby to warn you not to. it was hard to control yourself around mattheo for some reason. probably all the pent up anger you had from the relationship and its ending.

“just piss off. i honestly can’t be bothered with you right now,” you sighed, shaking your head. his face dropped at that, seeming much less entertained now that you had say that you genuinely didn’t want to speak to him. he didn’t like that.

“no, absolutely not. what you’re not gonna do is act like a bitch because you’re in a mood about something,” mattheo scoffed, grabbing your wrist to pull you back, leaving a faint, bloody handprint on your skin, to which you groaned at.

“can you not?” you murmured, trying to wipe it off, but only smearing it across your arm further. at this, he sighed and pulled you into the prefect’s bathroom, the nearest place with a sink.

“here, since you apparently need everything done for you. i see some things haven’t changed,” he tugged your arm under the sink and lightly rinsed it away, rolling his eyes as he did so, and taking the chance to wash his own hands, “you’re a real piece of work, you know that? especially these last couple months. i don’t even know what’s happened, but it’s annoying.”

“what happened is we broke up. i’m not going to be your sweet little angel every single day, riddle,” you retorted, shaking your head and patting your arm dry with a paper towel.

“i still don’t get why we ended things,” the brunette shrugged, as if the comment he had just made meant absolutely nothing, “i mean, you’d probably be sat in my lap cleaning me up right now if we hadn’t.”

his words were a harsh reminder of how much things had changed. if he had come to you battered and bruised when you were together, which he had done multiple times before, you would end up sitting in his lap whilst cleaning off all the blood, reprimanding him for getting into fights again whilst trying to fight the incessant butterflies that flapped around so aggressively in your stomach. you were feeling those same butterflies now, too.

“well… we’re not, so you’ll have to settle for some water and a paper towel. maybe you’ll get a plaster if you can find one somewhere,” you scoffed, trying to act as nonchalant as he was.

“come on, princess, don’t be like that,” mattheo groaned, looking at you with a frustrated expression. you didn’t get why he was still calling you princess. he’d taken the pet name he loved using for you so much and turned it into a mocking insult. that hurt you, you had to admit, how he took something so precious and made it into a nickname only used for when he wanted to be rude.

you glanced over at him, meeting his eyes. those eyes. those perfect, dark eyes that, when in the sunlight, turned into a gorgeous, flowing blend of various chocolate shades that sparkled and told so many tales in such little space. you had to chastise yourself for thinking about him so fondly when you swore you disliked him so much.

“why are you doing this to me? acting as if everything’s just perfectly fine and like there isn’t so much shit between us?” you sighed, running your hands over your face out of pure annoyance. why was he acting like this? why were you okay with it?

“i know you. i know every single facial expression you make. every single word you say,” he muttered, studying your face rapidly, “and i know that half the smiles you show off when you’re with diggory are fake. he’s boring you, i can see that clear as day. at least when you were with me, it was fun.”

you shook your head at his words, a soft huff of disbelief forcing itself out of you. deep down inside of you, you know that everything he was saying was true, but you couldn’t admit that. cedric was your boyfriend, you loved him, didn’t you?

“stop it, mattheo,” you pleaded, looking up at the blood-drenched face of the boy you didn’t know whether you adored or despised.

“i was your first… everything, princess. you can’t just deny that what we had was special,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as if he was getting annoyed again, his soft facade crumbling.

“what do you want me to do? apologise?” you breathed out in disbelief, looking at him as if he was insane, “if that’s what you want, then this is me standing in front of you and saying that i’m sorry for what happened that night, and it hurts my pride to say this, but i sometimes find myself wishing i could change my mind. is that what you want from me? i’m sick of these games.”

mattheo seemed to pause at your words, each syllable playing over and over in his head as he registered what you had just admitted. it was as if his entire body just glitched, every muscle coming to a standstill, though his eyes flicked back and forth as if he was reading the words from a book. it took a moment, but he eventually cracked a small smile, his head tilting.

“did you just reference a taylor swift song in your apology, love?”

#fanfic #harry potter #taylor swift #benjamin wadsworth #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #ex to lovers #the way i loved you

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scarleart · 1 year

Note

i want that wet slow tongue kissing with abby where you’re pressed right up against each other grinding and biting and grabbing and moaning and saying nasty stuff to each other GOD

oh my… goodness. i think you just took me out.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

god the two of you looked so… perfectly messy and feral.

abby had you seated on her, the back of your clothed thighs pressing right into the exposed front of hers. she was kneeling into the bed, holding and gripping you by your ass to keep you propped up as you rutted against her.

abby’s rough lips were connected passionately to your impending swollen ones. both of your lips collided and clashed together in a kiss that was full of both immense need and desire all at once. her warm, smooth tongue gilded and danced rhythmically inside of your desperate mouth. the wet muscle tracing every tooth and all of it’s crevices almost as if she’s trying to memorize it.

the only thing you could hear in the room were the sounds of the both of your lips smacking wetly against each other’s so sloppily— following right along with the infinite sounds of abby’s groans and your mewls.

abby’s hand that’s on your ass, gripping like her fucking life was depending on it, rose up and suddenly landed a sharp blow to your cheek. her hand coming down to massage the skin as soon as she did so as she heard your little cry. feeling your hips stuttering against her bulge from the strap she was wearing under her shorts.

she pulled away from your addicting mouth, a singular strand of yours and your lover's spit kept your agape mouth’s together, the string only breaking when you went back to chase after her lips once more. so needy and desperate for her to be close to you at all times.

abby slightly pull back from your incoming lips, a light chuckle leaving her while she does so. a smirk taking over her spit glistening lips as she eyed your slacken expression and sounds of the little purring noises emitting from you.

“mmphn— abs” you moaned softly, your hands rushing to grab at your girlfriends raging arms to ground yourself, the big fullness of her biceps making your mind go even more crazy.

“mm, already goin’ dumb from just a few little kisses, baby?” she laughs in question, her mouth moving to abuse your neck next. her hands holding and controlling the movements of your hips grinding, making you go so fucking slow purposefully.

you then puckered your lips that were swollen from yours and abby’s previous intense making out, into a huge pout unconsciously.

“i wan’ your cock” you whined, trying to force your hips to move faster but only being met by a bruising smack at the same exact spot from a few minutes ago on your bum. abby grins at your words, ignoring your squeals of pain as she kept moving you against her however she pleased.

“yea? want me in that pretty pussy of yours? jus’ want me to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, huh?” abby asks you lowly before she presses a harsh kiss against your saliva coated lips once again, her tongue making home into the warm cavern of your hot mouth. you were trying so hard to keep up with her but you couldn’t.

“hm? just want me to ruin that needy cunt” her words were fucking destroying you, it didn’t help that her voice was so husky and low. just all close to you, saying so much nasty shit to you. god, you can feel yourself literally leaving a puddle in your underwear. you’re sure as hell abby does too. you were so wet.

you weakly nod your head, whimpering when she started making you pick up the pace. feeling your clit grind against her hard bulge and the help of the friction of your underwear building you so close to the edge.

“yeah, baby?” you nod feebly once more, causing abby to chuckle to herself. her pretty baby. “say it” you let out a whiny groan at her words, so so close to cumming when she goes even faster.

“i—i want you to ruin my needy c—cunt, please. wan’ it so badly” abby gives you a small peck on your now bruised, and oh so sore lips. smirking when you kissed her back sheepishly when she pulled away from you.

“i’ll give it to you, princess”

#nsfw.ren #abby anderson fic #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson #tlou smut

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bubblebaththoughts · 4 months

Text

Hate Sex

Lo’ak x Fem!Na’vi!Reader

kinkmas masterlist

warnings: 18+ MDNI!, p in v, dubcon, mean lo’ak, very spoiled/bratty reader, one use of Y/n.

translations:

Lo’ak observed you from afar, his eyes narrowing at your disgusted face.

To him, it was like you always had a look of disgust on your face, that or smugness.

Eywa, he couldn’t stand you.

Golden girl, to everyone else.

To him? Spoiled brat.

Your eyes flickered over to him, making him tilt his head at you.

You dramatically roll your eyes, waving at him sarcastically.

It was his turn to have a look of disgust now, turning right back around and walking away.

Hours later, he’s approached by Neteyam, who had his face screwed up in something of anger.

“Bro, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Neteyam began, with a slap to the back of Lo’ak’s head

Neteyam was met with a hiss from his brother, whose eyes widened at him.

“What? What happened?” Lo’ak whipped around, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at Neteyam

“Y/n said you were giving her dirty looks, you skxawng.” Neteyam whispered

“Oh my fuck-“ Lo’ak rolled his eyes “You’re so whipped for her.”

“No- That’s not the point. Why can’t you just leave her alone, Lo’ak?” Neteyam hissed

“Neteyam, she quite literally has you completely wrapped around her little finger, I’m surprised you can’t see that, of all people.” Lo’ak gave him a nasty look

“If you would actually take the time to even be around her, maybe you wouldn’t have a stick up your ass every time she comes around you.” Neteyam suggested

“I don’t have to like her.” Lo’ak seethed

“That’s no reason to be an asshole.” Neteyam shot back “You’re going to apologize to her, for everything, or I’m telling dad.”

Lo’ak rolled his eyes, Neteyam being upset was one thing, but their father? “Fine.”

“Now, Skxawng!” Neteyam pointed in the direction from where he came

Lo’ak pushed past Neteyam, grumbling about how you had him pussy whipped.

He found you soon after. Sitting down by a stream, your head thrown back with your eyes closed.

“Out here all alone?” His voice made you flinch, looking back to see him with his arms crossed

“What do you want?” You bitterly spit “What’s your problem with me?”

Lo’ak rolls his eyes, “You’re a spoiled bitch.”

“I’m not!” You whine, your head lolling down

“You are. And you’re so fucking dramatic! I glanced at you and you went and told on me to my fucking brother? The fuck is wrong with you?” He spat, squatting down next to you

“You’re the dramatic one.” You rolled your eyes, “And it’s not my fault Neteyam wants you to be a decent person.”

“So when you decided to talk about me with my brother, was that before or after you sucked his dick?” Lo’ak spat

You peeked up at him, a cocky smirk on your face. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

Without any warning, he’s taken you by your throat and you’re shoved flat against the ground.

You cry out, trying to pry his hands off of you. “Lo’ak! Let me go!” You choke out

“After you apologize.” He grunted, shoving your head into the mossy grass

“You’re so dead!” You whine “I’m gonna tell your fucking dad I swear to Eywa!” Tears slip from tour eyes

“Where’s the big and bad attitude now, huh?” Lo’ak smirked, using his free hand to wipe your tears

“Lo’ak, stop! I’m sorry!” You try to plead

“Nah, you’re not fuckin’ sorry.” He growled, squeezing your throat tighter

You cry out, “Lo’ak please!”

His grip loosens, his lips quirk up into a smirk as he watches the tears flood your eyes.

He lets go of your neck, taking you by the chin and pulling you up to face him.

“I hate you.” You spit at him

“Whatever you believe, princess.” He rolled his eyes

In a clash and messy mix of lips, teeth, tongues, and saliva, maybe you could call it a kiss.

His lips were hard against yours, practically trying to swallow your face as he ripped your loincloth off.

He pulls away roughly, his hand finding your throat and holding it tightly, “Tell me, did you suck my brother’s dick. Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.”

“Like I would tell you.” You laugh, a demeaning laugh.

His eyes darken, making your smile drop, you try to back away from him but somehow you also can’t move.

You sit there, trembling with fear as he towers over you, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. You can feel the hatred radiating off of him, directed towards you. But you can't move, can't run away. You're trapped in this room with him, and you know what's coming. You've seen the look in his eyes before, the same look that he has now as he grabs you roughly by the arm and pulls you towards him.

"You think you're so special, don't you?" He sneers, his grip on your arm tightening. "You think you can just walk around here like you own the place?"

You open your mouth to protest, but before you can speak, he slams his lips against yours in a brutal kiss. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, exploring every inch hungrily. You try to push him away, but he just laughs and tightens his hold on you. You can taste the anger and hatred on his lips, and it only fuels your fear.

His hands roam over your body, squeezing and groping roughly. You try to push him away again, but he just laughs and pins your arms above your head.

"I hate you," he growls, his hot breath tickling your ear. "And I'm going to show you just how much."

You can feel his arousal pressing against your stomach, and despite your fear and disgust, your body responds. You hate yourself for it, but you can't deny the desire that courses through you. He notices and smirks, knowing that he has the upper hand.

He runs his hands over your body, his touch rough and possessive. You feel like you're nothing but an object to him, something to be used and discarded.

He shoves you down into the ground, and you let out a cry as the impact jars your body. He doesn't waste any time, climbing on top of you and pulling your legs apart.

“Lo’ak, stop!” You struggle, but he's too strong, and you can feel the panic rising in your chest.

“Stop pretending like you don’t want it.” Lo’ak growled

He enters you with one hard thrust, and you gasp in pain. He doesn't give you a chance to adjust, instead setting a punishing pace as he pounds into you. You can feel every thrust deep in your core, and despite your fear and disgust, your body responds to the pleasure.

He grabs your hair and pulls your head back, forcing you to look him in the eye. You can see the hatred and anger burning in his gaze, and it only makes your fear and arousal heighten. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his voice dripping with venom.

"You're nothing," He snarls. "Just a worthless slut who deserves to be treated like this."

His words cut deep, and you can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You don't want this, don't want him, but you're powerless to stop him. He's in control, and he knows it.

He continues to thrust into you with brutal force, and you can feel your body nearing its breaking point. Your mind is screaming for you to fight back, to get away from him, but your body betrays you as it responds to his touch.

You can feel the familiar coil of pleasure building in your stomach, and you try to fight it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you? Such a nasty little slut, cumming in my cock like you’re in heat.” He degraded

“No!” You cry out a lie

But he's relentless, and with one final thrust, you shatter under him. Your body convulses with pleasure, and you can hear him laughing triumphantly above you.

“It’s my turn. This sweet little pussy is gonna make me cum right now.” He groaned “Gonna cum inside!”

Like it was instinct, your legs wrap around him, completely preventing him from pulling out even if he wanted to.

“Giving in? You want me to pump this pussy full of my cum, don’t you?” He grunted, and finally spilled into you

Tears stream down your face as his body collapses onto yours.

“You’re mine now, you hear me?” He growled into your ear, “And I’m gonna make sure of that.”

You two lay there for what feels like hours, tears streaming down your face as you try to process what just happened. You hate him, hate what he did to you, but a part of you can't help but feel a twisted sense of pleasure at the thought of his rough touch.

taglist: @danniackerman @loaksslut

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Note

Hi If you still do recuest's for twst

Can I recuest's the dorm leaders x GN!reader that is like the mad hatter?

Madhatter Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’re wild and wacky with a love for tea and making hats. You’re never in one place long mentally and physically. Your suitors are often left to question everything when you seem to tip and top off the thin line of sanity:

Malleus Draconia

“Hi Hi Horns have you burped towards the roses today?”

“Roses? Do you mean the ones in Heartslaybul? And would that be polite? To burp on them?”

He’s the perfect accessory to your insanity

He’s plenty gullible to listen to you

even when your requests border that morale of good and evil

He’s usually picking you

His eccentric little lover

There’s never a dull moment with you by his side

He starts having a problem though when there are others sitting in on your tea parties

His rainstorms don’t necessarily mean the absolute end when it comes to you

But they usually do for your unsuspecting participants

You’re so wonderful for him

He can’t let anyone enjoy his human as much as he does

“My child of man, may we do my head fitting? I’d love to feel you soft pads against my scalp.”

Kalim Al Asim

“What are you doing (Y/n)-chan?”

“I am stretching for the annual beetle festival.”

“Beetle festival? Can I join?”

“You may but you have to eat a lady-bug first.”

“Okay!”

You guys are like kids in a candy shop

For Kalim, he never thinks to question your sanity

You're just an exciting person

He soon finds himself supplying whatever you need to fulfill your shenanigans

And something nasty creeps up when someone (Jamil) tells you to stop

“I can make it so we can finish our tea party….by ourselves this time.”

Idia Shroud

“Come on Fireplace! Drink this tea!”

“B-but you b-brewed that in your hat…!”

“Yes that’s how you’ll know it’s sanitary!”

“Y-you’re weird.”

“Why thank you!”

He just thinks you’re the weirdest person he’s ever met

At first, he thinks its really just fascination

With the way, you randomly dance in the direction of the cameras that were supposed to be secret

That you were different just like him

And he thought just being allies was good enough

But now he’s plotting the demise of the normie that decides to dance along with you

“There aren’t many who can handle people like us! That’s why I can’t let anyone else have you.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“Let the unbirthday party begin!”

“(Y/n), hands should be out. Elbows off the table.”

“Whoopie did you see this dessert!”

“I did now sit in your seat.”

He has a weird ability to govern you

No one understands it

He barely understands it

But you two mostly get along

He often knows how to speak your language

Something that many seem to struggle with

But he’s the go-to person to reign you in

That’s just the way he likes it+

“Come (Y/n) you’re a good hatter. I need one for our teaparty this evening. Make it.”

Vil Schoenheit

“You’re sense of style is certainly unique.”

“Thanks the cobwebs were my latest addition!”

“What!? Cobwebs that can’t be healthy!”

“Oooh a hat made of cake!”

He thinks you're cute but he worries your lack of sanity leads you to make bad decisions

Like having hats with holes for nonexistent limbs

As well as your affinity for drinking tea for a meal

And probably worst of all being friends with potatoes who can’t handle you

Which is why Vil’s here

“Didn’t you read the schedule? We’re having tea, tonight so leave those potatoes behind.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Its time for the puppy hat party!”

“...Will you stop, I’m trying to sleep!”

“But it’s time for the party!!!!”

“I’m going to kill you.”

He thinks you're so cute

But he loves it most when you card your hands through his hair while fitting his head for a hat

But part of your insanity has you being quite energetic

Which clashes with his love for sleep

So he might meddle a little with the tea you seem addicted to it

So he might slip something in

To make sure he gets his snuggly hatter in his bed

“Come on Herbivore you seem exhausted. If you’re not that tired you can fit me for a hat.”

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redheadspark · 8 months

Note

i had a small idea yesterday for the prompt session! druig with #’s 3, 15, and 18. maybe with reader after the emergence. they’re both EXHAUSTED and even though druig’s hurt, he still wants to make sure his s/o is okay after fighting. you can change things around to your liking ofc!

A/N - YAS! I do like this a lot for Druig! Thanks for requesting this, dear friend!

Scars and All

Summary - Druig seeks you out after the Emergence

Warnings - angst and fluff mixed together

“How is she?”

“I’m more concerned about you since you took a beating from Ikaris on that beach,”

Druig huffed as Phastos was looking him over with some of his equipment, being ever patient but not willing to sit through a thorough exam. He was sitting on what was left of Phastos’s work table, his armor stripped, and was only sporting his black pants and nasty bruises along his ivory skin. Phastos and Thena were with him and taking the proper measures to check on him, Sersi was talking to a now-human Sprite in the Meeting Room, leaving Makkari to tend to you in your shared room with Druig. Although Druig knew that Thena would hold him down in order for him to get checked over and be cleared, he would rather be with you.

You both took a beating on that beach in order to save the world.

Druig took on Ikaris’s beams head-on, thinking for a split moment that he wasn’t going to make it out alive. It left him both physically and mentally bruised, not to mention the mental fatigue that he endured ignorer to take over the mind of a full Celestial. Throughout the centuries that he has been on Earth, this was truly the first time he felt beyond tired.

Not tired, exhausted.

“Your internal organs are still good,” Phastos hummed as he scanned Druig’s backside slowly and with determination, Druig’s leg bouncing on the workstation table as he was sitting Indian Style. Even his fingers were fidgeting while he was staring dead ahead at the wall. He was half listening, mostly thinking about you and how you were holding up. Seeing you on the beach covered in scratch wounds and pale to the touch made his heart sink. Saving the world didn’t matter to him anymore, nor did stopping Ikaris and stopping Tiamat. All that mattered was you.

He needed to see you and make sure you were alright.

“The bruises are gonna last a bit,” Phastos explained as Druig was still sitting rather impatiently, Thena was watching like a hawk and not moving an inch while Phastos placed his instruments down and gave Druig a brotherly kind of stare, “I can have Makkiar get some herbs to make a paste and make the bruises shrink down a bit.”

“Not a fan of modern medicine I take it?” Druig asked with a hint of sarcasm, though Phastos cracked a grin.

“Modern medicine is too tame compared to what we endured in the glory days,” Phastos hummed, then pausing for a brief moment before he spoke again, “Plus, we need to be careful since we don’t have Ajak to help us,”

It made the mood more somber in the room, even when it was rue. Ajak was always there to heal them, from the smallest scratches to the more massive wounds that they would get from Deviants. The healing was more than the physical, her soothing tones and words of encouragement for every Eternal. Even Druig, though they both clash plenty of times when it comes to the philosophy of Eternals, admired Ajak all the more and missed her terribly.

“Thanks, Phastos,” Druig replied with a soft smile, hopping down from the workstation table.

“Get some rest,” Thena instructed him with a small tilt of her head to him. Druig nodded back.

“Will do,” He replied walking past both Phastos and Thena to the hallways that lead to the living quarters. He was glad that he was cleared from needing anymore assistance, and he was not thinking about himself at the current moment.

“Couldn’t gone worse for him if it wasn’t for her,” Phastos said to Thena as Druig was walking away, his eyes going right down the hallway and nothing slowing him down.

“She saved his life, as she should since they were meant for each other,” Thena replied in an optimistic hum, which made Druig wish he could smile from hearing that from the warrior herself. He might have been too tired to smile, or simply more concerned about you to smile from the comment. But it still warmed his heart nonetheless, adoring Thena all the more.

Once he made it to your shared room, He carefully and softly opened the door to see nothing but darkness. Your king-sized bed was against the wall, you were nestled amongst the satin sheets and already sleeping with Makkari sitting by your side and keeping a close eye on you.

Makkari, still clad in her armor, saw Druig and immediately sped over to him, She’s okay.

“Thanks, ‘Kari,” He whispered to her as he gestured his head over to your sleeping form, “How bad is it?”

Her cuts are deep, but they’ll heal in a few days, She explained to him, I know how to make a paste for her wounds to make the healing go a bit faster. I’ll make some for you too, I think you two need some rest,

“You might be right,” he agreed, seeing her crack a smile slightly before she leaned over to hug him gently. He hugged her back, feeling her warmth in the embrace. Once Makkari pulled away and slipped out of the room, Druig looked over at your sleeping form with both concerns and warmth.

Warmth that you were alive and still with him in this life, and concern that you took a beating to protect him.

He loved watching you sleep in the past, seeing how soft and content you were as you dreamed away with nothing haunting you. There were even moments when he would watch you and be amazed at how peaceful you seemed to be in a chaotic and ever-grieving world around you. He loved that about you and he wished he had that in himself sometimes.

You had enough love and compassion to fill the both of you up instantly and overflow.

Moving without him making a single sound, Druig lifted the sheet to finally see you. The distinct slash marks along your skin, the deep bruises etched near your neck and hips. It was all too much for him to see. You were never one to harm a fly or start trouble, it wasn’t in your nature. Yet now, you looked so broken to Druig that it made his heart shatter.

Immediately he moved, wrapped you close in his arms, and avoided some of the fresher wounds. You stirred, your head against his neck now as he hummed to alert you.

“…Druig?” You said in a hoarse tone.

“I’m right here, darlin’. Go back to sleep,” He mumbled to you since the last thing he wanted was for you to wake up and lose sleep. You moved your arms, grimacing from the drained energy and the tender bruises along your arms.

“You okay?” You asked him. Of course, you would be worried for him and his health, not even worried about your own wounds and exhaustion. Druig loved you for your selfless heart and need to care for others before yourself, both a blessing and a curse for him to witness as the love of your life. He kissed your forehead, feeling his own energy draining within moments from being in a safe space with you and being in one piece.

“I’m alright now,” he reassured you soothingly, “We’re both alright now. Let’s sleep, alright? I got ya,”

As you both slept and healed together, all you both could dream of was your future together. No matter that there was no village to go back to, losing some of your own to both the Deviants and Ikaris at the same time, none of that mattered compared to what you two wanted in your future together. Somewhere quiet and away from chaos, maybe near the sea or deep in the forest. Just you and Druig against the world, scars and all.

The End.

September Prompt Session

#druig x reader #druig x oc #druig imagine #druig x female reader #druig x y/n #fanfiction #writing #barry keoghan #druig #marvel #marvel cinematic universe fanfitcion #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #mcu phase 4 #mcu fanfiction #mcu #the eternals #eternals fanfiction

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mediumgayitalian · 3 months

Text

When Nico asks him out, there is vomit on his scrubs. His hair is disgusting. The bags under his eyes are actually the size of Texas, and he was born there so he says it in good confidence.

Also, it goes right over his head.

“Gods, yeah,” Will sighs, relieved. “Yeah, I could —” He laughs, a little hysterically, scrubbing his hand over his face and trying to blink the sudden onslaught of dizzy away. “I’m starving. I am — tired of this stupid room. I could use dinner out.”

“Great,” Nico says, rocking back on his heels. He twists his skull ring around his finger, like he does when he’s nervous, but there’s a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth that Will has learned, in the past few weeks of his help in the infirmary, is a smile. “I’ll — um, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Will glances down at the rapidly-drying splatter of vomit spreading from his right shoulder all the way down to his belly button. The nasty brown-yellow colour of it clashes so violently with the mint-green of his scrubs that it might be a felony, actually. The one whole spaghetti noodle smack in the middle of it does not help.

“Yeah, I’ll need at least that long in the shower.”

Nico’s face goes through a very complicated string of emotions. “I think you look nice,” he offers.

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘nice’, di Angelo,” Will snorts. He gestures behind him. “Bye, Nico. I’ll see you in a few hours?”

“Right. Bye, Will.”

“Hey, first name status!”

“Shut up, Solace. Go change your shirt.”

Will snickers, jogging down the Big House stairs with a backwards wave. He hustles past campers jogging towards their daily activities, ducking into the Apollo cabin before someone can ask him for something.

It’s been a busy few weeks.

The Giant War was…well. It’s over, now, is the point, but it was not without casualties, and it was not without injury, and injury, and injury. Plus the flu that just had to hit right before the Romans were about to head back to California. Will has spent more nights in the infirmary in the last few weeks than he ever has, including after the Titan War. Understaffed does not begin to cover it. He had to beg Cecil for his secret Redbull stash after his third straight day on his feet, praying to his father, his aunt, and any other god who was listening to keep his hands from shaking. Without Nico’s help — well, he doesn’t want to think about how things would have gone without Nico’s help.

He’d slept through his promised three days in the infirmary. Will had restitched his werewolf scratching (—his werewolf scratches his fucking werewolf scratches his fucking shitting goddamn werewolf scratches that he stitched with sewing thread and left for gods know how many days and Will is going to quit his job, he is, he is going to live in a hut in the Florida Everglades and chase questers away with a fucking broom—) as he slept on the first day, then spent the next days glaring at him in seething jealousy.

He had wanted to sleep. He had wanted to sleep so godsdamn badly. And yet. He was plastering salve on the translucent fingers of a dumbass who pushed himself too hard.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Will had mocked, ignoring the yelled you’re losing it, Willy! from Kayla as she passed by. “Nyeh nyeh nyeh. I can shadow travel wherever I want. Nyeh nyeh nyeh. Catch me I’m about to pass out. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

“I never asked you to catch me,” muttered Nico, groggily, and Will had screamed.

Not his best moment.

Luckily, his string of colourful cursing had killed any idea that Will was scared of him, or something, and the list of chores he’d doled out the second he made sure Nico could walk had put the idea in the grave.

He still can’t quite believe that Nico actually, like…listened. But he’s a good bandage cutter (very accurate) and, as a super fun bonus, the Romans were all scared of him, so when they tried to get out of their cots while their limbs were literally hanging onto them by a thread, Will just had Nico stand behind him and glare at them until they sat their asses back down.

(“You are without a doubt the best nurse I’ve ever had,” Will had grumbled, sticking his tongue out at Austin, who lazily tried to trip him. Nico had rolled his eyes, huffing as if he thought Will was joking.)

“Wow,” says Cecil, sitting in Will’s bed for some reason. He rakes his eyes up and down his body, whistling appreciatively at the towel around his waist. Will rolls his eyes and starts digging through his dresser drawers. “Look at you! So human-like! No zombie eyebags to be seen!”

“Showers don’t erase eyebags, dick for brains.”

“True, but you’re so hot when you’re not covered in blood and vomit that I can overlook them.”

“Kiss my ass, Cecil.”

“Really? Is that permission?”

Will laughs, admitting defeat. He tugs on a pair of boxers, then tosses a few clothing options on his bed.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be out, Zeus’ beard. Nico’s taking me to dinner; d’you know if it’s cold in the city? And I should probably wear real shoes, right, Annabeth mentioned something about New York bacteria —”

“Woah, woah, hold on, William, pause there for a second.”

Will looks up, frowning. “What?”

“Nico’s taking you to dinner?”

Cecil’s eyes are wide. Reflexively, Will pats his chin, paranoid he’s got something on his face.

“…Yes? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing! Nothing, nothing.” Quickly, Cecil schools his face back to its usual smirk, leaning casually against the bedpost. (He misses. Mercifully, Will decides to let it slide and wait for him to straighten himself. He’s a good friend, like that.)

“Well, obviously something.”

“Nope! I’m just —” He softens. “I’m glad you’re taking a break, Willy. We’ve been worried about you. Remind me to send him a lock pick set.”

“Most people send fruit,” Will suggests gently. He cuffs Cecil playfully on the jaw, rolling his eyes when Cecil catches his hand and presses a loudly exaggerated kiss to it. “Or flowers. Also, don’t call me Willy.”

“Sorry, Willy.”

“Gods, you’re infuriating.”

“Mhm. And yet you adore me. Oou, wear the grey plaid shirt, it makes your eyes look bluer. And for the love of Hermes, do not wear shorts.”

———

At seven o’clock sharp, there’s a knock on the doorframe.

“Uh, hi?”

“Nico!” Will says brightly. “Hi! You don’t have to wait by the door, dorkus. Come in.”

With a second of hesitation, Nico steps in. The usually creaky floorboards are silent under his black Chucks. Will chooses to believe that’s on purpose, because it’s cooler.

“You can sit if you want! Unless we gotta leave right away. I wasn’t actually sure, are we just going to McDonald’s or something? Also, I told Cecil he couldn’t come, I figured three would make it a party or something but lemme know if we’re bringing friends along and —”

“We’re not,” Nico interrupts.

“—tell them.” Will blinks at him, then smiles. “Just you and me, then.”

Nico clears his throat. “Yeah.” He glances up at Will, and away again, like he can’t hold his gaze for too long. He looks a little flushed. “You, uh. You braided your hair.”

“What? Oh!” Will touches the French braids on either side of his head, smiling. “Yeah, I finally had the time. Keeps my hair back better than much else. Hey, Nico, you good? You looked flushed, maybe you should —”

Nico catches his hand. He smiles.

“I’m fine, Solace. You just look nice, is all.”

Will snorts. “No kidding. Anything’s better than the vomit shirt.”

———

Nico refuses to answer any of his questions about where they’re going.

Or, well. Will asks him and endless string of questions and receives only hums or nods in response, except for the odd huff of laughter when Will pouts.

“C’mon! Can’t I just know where we’re going?”

“You’re about to.”

“I mean now, Death Breath.”

“Well, now I’m definitely not telling you.”

“Ugh.”

Nico places a fleeting hand on his elbow as they reach the base of Half-Blood Hill, stalling him.

“Wait.”

Will pauses, listening. His heartbeat picks up. Monster? Monsters?

He glances over at Nico, noticing the tension in his face, the twist to his mouth, the —

Oh, no he doesn’t.

“Hold it, Gerard Way!”

Nico startles.

“What?”

“I know that face! You are not shadow-travelling us to the city, no way, no how, do you want to dissolve —”

“Will,” Nico interrupts, laughing softly, “Will, trust me for a second. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Nico blinks. Will flushes.

“That was fast.”

“Well! Well.”

“I’m not shadow-travelling,” Nico promises, changing the subject when it’s clear Will has nothing to say. “I’m just summoning our ride. I promise it won’t drain me.”

“…Fine.”

Rolling his eyes fondly, Nico screws up his face again. The tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose are more obvious when he wrinkles it. Will has to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from touching them.

One moment, there’s nothing but empty road in front of them. The next, there’s a massive fucking limo, driven by what Will can only describe as a ghoul.

“There,” Nico says happily. “Our ride!”

He jogs over to the sleek black limo, leaving Will gaping. With a quick hand to keep the driver from getting up, he opens the back door, gesturing broadly.

“C’mon, Sunshine.”

Will recovers quickly. He’s never been in a limo before — hell, he’s hardly ever been in cars. He slides into the black leather seats, gaping, barely noticing Nico ducking in and closing the door behind him.

“Cleveland and Merrick, please, Jules-Albert.”

Limos are crazy.

If hotel mini bars were, like, physical places rather than tiny bottles in mini fridges, they would look like limos. The windows are tinted, so the interior is dark, illuminated a softly glowing red by strips of LEDs. There is an actual TV screen, although it’s not on. Will feels like James Bond.

“Gift from my dad,” Nico explains. “He knows he can’t always be there to drive me around, so he got Jules-Albert to take me places. He’s cool. He even answers to me, technically, and not my dad, so if anything happens back here he won’t snitch.” Nico gets so violently red he damn near goes invisible under the LEDs. “Not that — I mean, it’s more like —”

“That is so cool,” Will breathes. “Oh my gods, Nico, you are literally the coolest demigod in the world.”

“Hah,” says Nico weakly. The limo (!!) slows to a stop. “We are — here, let’s go!”

Nico practically throws himself out of the limo. Will takes one last look, thanks Jules-Albert, and hurries out after him.

———

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Nico looks at him defensively. The corner of his mouth twitches. “I thought it was pretty funny.”

Apollo Restaurant Diner, reads the garish, flashing yellow sign. Seniors half-off!

Will nudges Nico’s side as they walk in. “You should ask for the discount.”

“Keep it up and you’re paying for yourself, Solace.”

Nico guides them into a booth by the window before he can say anything. In seconds, a server is strolling up to them, popping their bubblegum and grinning.

“Welcome to Apollo’s, where if we don’t predict your order, it’s free! I’ll get you guys some sodas, and…hm. Fries to share, I think.”

They’re off, ponytail bouncing, before either of them can say anything.

“Well,” says Nico after a moment. “I guess we’re having fries.”

Will snorts. “You love fries. You love anything fried and battered, because there is nothing you love more than poor decision making.”

“Caught me, Solace.”

“Aw. I thought —”

Their server pops back in with their sodas, nodding as they thank them.

“— I thought I was bumped up to first name status! You called me Will earlier.”

Nico slurps obnoxiously at his cherry coke.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did too!”

“Not a jury in the world will believe you, Solace.”

Will blows his straw wrapper at him. Nico barely dodges, laughing — a real, open laugh, where some of the guard drops from his shoulders, where his smile is wide enough to show his teeth, where his dark eyes cringe near shut.

“You’re so lame. Get your stupid straw wrapper away from me.”

Will feels like he doesn’t respond for ages, mesmerized by the crooked curve of Nico’s smile. There’s mischief in that smile, and oddly it makes shyness bloom in Will’s chest, it makes the tips of his ears red, makes him duck his head.

Will’s saved from trying to come up with a comment by the massive — truly gigantic — platter of fries set between them.

“Holy shit,” breathes Will, alarmed.

“Holy shit,” breathes Nico, eyes wide. The smile grows wider. “Holy shit!”

Will’s stomach growls. He’s reminded how truly hungry he is, and without another word, the two of them dig in.

They end up ordering another platter. Will theorizes that, in total, they eat at least seven whole potatoes.

“How many fries do you think is in one potato?”

“A yukon?” says Will. “Like, twenty-five, at least. Wait, hold on, pass me your napkin, lemme do the math.”

“Gods, you are such a nerd.”

Will loses count of how many times they refill their sodas. Too many. Camp food is usually very healthy — as head medic, Will has to set an example, but it’s just Nico, here. Will eats himself into a minor food coma and relishes in it. When Nico asks if he wants to order one of the giant milkshakes, he doesn’t hesitate.

“Duh. Strawberry.”

“Gross, Solace. Vanilla or nothing.”

“Basic ass bitch.”

“At least I’m not vying for strawberry!”

By the time Nico gets up to go get their bill, the sun has long since set. Will realises he forgot to put his watch back on after his shower, and has no idea what time it actually is.

“Nine-thirty ish,” Nico says, opening the limo door for him. “We’ll be back at camp at ten.”

Will grimaces. “Fuck. Will Jules-Albert chill overnight? If we try to go back to our cabins, the curfew harpies are gonna eat us.”

“Scared, Solace?”

Nico’s eyes are bright and teasing. Will wonders how the hell other campers find him so frightening — the little twitches of his mouth are so obvious. Some people are just oblivious.

“Of course I’m scared, you dickhead. What am I gonna do, sing a hymn until they go away?”

Nico snorts. “You worry too much. They’re afraid of me, you know. They’ll steer clear.”

“You have a lot of confidence in how much you scare people, which is crazy for someone who’s five eight.”

“Oh, piss off.”

Will grins. “Never.”

The drive back to camp feels shorter than it is. The limo’s seats are stupid comfortable, and Nico is a warm presence beside him, and more than anything, Will is exhausted. Last time he slept was — Thursday? He’s pretty sure? He definitely slept on Wednesday, and he’s pretty sure Kayla locked him in the back office with a pillow on Thursday. But maybe that was this morning.

“Will, hey.” A cool, calloused hand brushes over his forehead, and he leans into it, humming. “Get up, you loser. We’re here.”

Will groans. “Five more minutes.”

The soft, gravelly chuckles are the most musical things he’s ever heard. “Up you get, Sunshine, or I’ll let the harpies eat you.”

That gets Will up fast. He shoves Nico away, who’s still snickering at him, grumbling as he crawls out of the limo.

“It’s like you want me to die of stress.”

“Nah.”

They wave goodbye to Jules-Albert, who disappears in a blink. Halfway up the hill, a hand closes around his. Will glances over to Nico in surprise, but he looks resolutely ahead.

“I can feel you freaking out.” He clears his throat. “I told you, Solace. I’ll protect you.”

“That’s not what you said,” Will grumbles, but it’s hard to get his attitude across when his cheeks ache from smiling.

Nico ends up being right — the harpies steer clear of them. He looks very smug about being right, smirking all the way up to the Apollo Cabin door. He walks him up the creaking steps, pausing at the door. He lets go of Will’s hand, which is kind of a bummer. Will had liked holding his hand — physical proof that Nico was becoming more comfortable with him.

“So,” Nico says, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“So,” Will parrots, grinning. He grins wider at Nico’s scowl, gently illuminated by the soft glow of the Apollo cabin. “I had fun tonight, Nico. I needed that.”

Nico’s whole face softens. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Will smiles at him again. “Thank you.”

For a second, Nico’s slight smile melts into a more serious expression. Will finds himself lingering, searching Nico’s face. Waiting.

Quick as a dart, Nico leans up and presses a kiss to Will’s cheek.

“Oh,” Will breathes, eyes wide. His fingers come up and brush the spot Nico kissed, skin tingling.

Nico looks at him nervously. “Was that okay?”

It takes Will a solid few seconds to answer. Even then, it’s not any recognizable words — more of an embarrassing hnnnnngh wha.

Nico grins. “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

“Nico — wait.”

“Harpies, Sunshine.”

Will could swear he sees Nico’s shoulders shaking with laughter as he walks away. Which — huh! Pardon! Excuse.

“Nico! Was! Was this a date!”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Will.”

“Nico!”

Nico disappears down the bend without answering. Will manages to catch the curve of his smile before he goes.

He doesn’t sleep a wink.

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