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dr0wning-in-hell · 3 years

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Wonder - Peter Parker

Summary : During a heated make-out session while studying Peter gains the confidence to move things forward with his girlfriend Y/N, relating in some steamy sex.

Word Count :1.8k+

Warnings : SMUT!! Making out, fingering, oral(f), cursing, sexy times all around my friends, dirty talk, literally porn with no plot

Pairing : Peter Parker x reader

Prompt : “91 and 100 with peter please!” - anonymous |91. “Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you would taste like..” |100. “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this, just for me.”

A/N : Y’all I’m really trying to post more I promise, I just haven’t felt like myself so I have like no motivation for anything. I’m super sorry. But please enjoy this post!!

New masterlist | prompt list | color prompts

Peter and Y/N had stopped studying about 15 minutes ago, and now all their school work was on the ground and Peter was holding Y/N in his lap as their lips were tangled together. Absentmindedly, Y/N started grinding down onto Peter’s crotch, resulting in a low groan to escape his mouth.

“Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you would taste like...” Peter mumbled against his girlfriends’ lips. She pulled back and looked at him, wondering if he was really serious.

“Are- are sure? Are you being serious?” Peter nodded, his hands still holding Y/N close to his body.

“I know I’ve been hesitant to uhm- do it, but I love you so much and I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I’m ready. I’m ready to do this with you,” Peter watched as Y/N smiled widely before nodding and kissing her boyfriend. He smiled back against her lips before starting to lay her down on the bed. Their hands roamed each others bodies as the air in the room grew thick with the smell of lust and sex. The two teens grew needier, tearing the others’ clothes off to leave scratch marks and hickies along their newly exposed skin.

Peter stared down at his girlfriends’ body which made her a little subconscious as she was thinking that he he didn’t like what he was looking at. “So fucking perfect,” He said lowly, “And all mine,” His hands went to grab at her covered chest, quickly disregarding the material and letting his hands hold the soft flesh. Y/N stifled a groan as he massaged her breast and pinched at her nipples. He could tell what he was doing to her and in one swift motion he lowered his lips to her hard nipples and sucked on them hard enough to leave hickies.

Y/N couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips after that, the new sensation of his lips around her, the soft biting, it felt so new and so good. After leaving two extremely large purple bruises on her chest he moved down and continued to litter the marks down her body. When he reached the area where he knew she need him the most he took his time in teasing her.

Peter ran his fingers along her clothed clit, applying just a little bit of pressure. He watched as Y/N squirmed under him, her legs tensing at the new feeling.

“No teasing,” She groaned. “Please, I just need you.”

“Is someone a little needy? Hm? Does someone need to be taken care of?” Peter whispered as he lowered his head closer to her heat. He watched Y/N nod her head, her pupils blown wide as she waited in anticipation to see what he was about to do. Slowly pulling down her panties he discarded them and stared at the sight in front of him. He felt his pants tighten even more causing him to rut his hips against the mattress. This was something new for the both of them and even though they hadn’t gone that far yet they could both tell they weren’t going to last long.

Peter licked his lips before laying his tongue against Y/N’s slit, spreading her folds as he tasted her for the first time. Y/N’s body lurched forward, a loud moan falling from her lips at the sensation. Peter grinned and continue to lick at her cunt, sucking both folds every once in a while and then releasing them with a load ‘pop’.

“You taste like heaven,” Peter groaned as he continued to lap at her folds and feel her aerosol fall onto his lips. “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this, just for me,” he mumbled against her lips. After feeling arounds for a few more seconds he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked it into his mouth.

Y/N’s mouth fell open, a silent moan failing to escape her throat as it got caught. “F-fuck, Peter. Feels so good, fuck- pl-please I need more,” She begged, her hands going to push themselves into his brown locks and pull even closer. The chuckle that fell from Peter’s lips vibrated against her skin, causing the hairs on her body to raise. Peter pulled his mouth away just enough to start pushing one, then two fingers into his girlfriend’s leaking hole. He watched in amusement and lust as her tight hole seemed to swallow his fingers, just begging for more. Peter curled his fingers, hitting the soft, spongey spot inside her. Based upon her reaction of her back arching and a squeal erupting from her, it was no doubt that he just found the perfect spot inside her.

“Does that feel good, angel? Do you like my fingers spreading you open?” Peter taunted as he sped of his fingers. Y/N could only nod as the feeling was too much and she could barely remember to breathe. The boy’s eyes watched her body twitch and spasm, her legs closing tightly around his fingers as a sign she was about to cum. His head fell back in between her legs, his tongue finding and available space against her cunt as she came without warning. Her juices leaked onto his hand as he slowly moved his fingers from her core, licking them clean and then going back into her core to taste her even more.

Y/N watched as he tasted her, his pupils blown to cover his entire iris. It was a sinful sight, one only she got to witness. When Peter was done with his mouth he pulled his lips up and along her body, leaving wet and sloppy kisses all across her body until he reached her lips. He captured her mouth within hers, both of them moaning against each other as she tasted herself against his lips and he let her take control of the kiss.

After a few moments he pulled away so he could take off the remainders of his clothes and grab a condom. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t have to do anything else.” Peter asked as he stopped himself from pulling down his boxers.

“I want this, please, I want to feel you inside me.” Y/N begged, her mouth watering at the thought of what his cock might look like. She watched with sharp eyes as he pulled the last bit of material from his body and his aching cock finally sprung free from it’s prison. Peter let out a deep groan as his hand just barely touched himself. Without wasting any more time he ripped the foil package open and slowly rolled it onto his shaft with a hiss. Peter climbed back over Y/N’s body that was now covered in a thin layer of sweat and Peter’s drying kisses.

“I love you so much,” Peter mumbled as he pressed a long and slow kiss to her lips.

Y/N grinned, “I love you more, but if you don’t put your cock in me I’m doing it myself.” Her comment made Peter laugh, but he nodded as he sat on his knees and pulled Y/N’s hips up to wrap her legs around his waist. He teased her hole at first just to annoy her, but then finally began to push into her tiny entrance. Y/N gasped, her hands going to grip his biceps as he pushed in till he was balls deep in her. They were both panting heavily, their breathes fanning against the other’s skin as they waited a moment.

The nod Y/N gave Peter to start moving was all the conformation he need to start. His hips moved slow at first, going all the way into her hot heat before pulling out and continuing his movements. The sounds Y/N let out were uncontrollable but they only urged Peter to go on. After finding a steady rhythm he began to move faster, his hips becoming flush against his girlfriends’ as he tried to get as close as he could to her.

“You feel so good around me, angel. Fuck, just swallowing me up. Such a greedy whore.” Peter grunted as he pounded into her core.

This new side of Peter was completely different from the shy kid who would barely kiss her in public, and it made her heart speed up. “So big,” Y/N whimpered, her eyes glancing down to look at where their bodies connected. “Can’t believe we waited so long. Don’t think I ever want this to end.”

Peter’s hips stuttered a bit but as he moved to bend her legs to her chest, getting a deeper angle. He hit the special spot inside her, causing her Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, letting out the most pornographic sound either of them have ever heard. His face was right above hers. his lips ghosting hers and giving her just enough of a taste that it left her wanting more.

Peter fucked into her cunt harshly, chasing both of their releases. Y/N whined loudly, her hands going to reach for Peter’s as she pulled him against her. “ ‘M gonna cum, fuck- want you to cum.” Peter nodded and pressed his lips to her, trying to maintain his speed.

“I’m right there, fuck, cum for me angel. Want to feel you milk everything out of me.” That was all she need to hear as she clenched hard onto his cock, her back arching and body spasming as she came from her high. Peter came right after, his hips stilling inside her as he released his load into the condom. He could feel her tighten around him just a little bit more as they finished their highs, both panting in exhaustion.

Once Peter caught his breathe he pulled out slowly and watched his girlfriend’s slick slide down her thighs. After discarding the condom he went to the bathroom to get a warm cloth and clean her up. Y/N whimpered at the contact and tried to pull away but Peter gave her a scolding look as he cleaned her up.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” Y/N yawned and snuggled up to her boyfriend while he crawled under the covers.

He chuckled a bit and wrapped his arms around her, “That’s alright, I’ll carry you everywhere.” She grinned, her eyes falling slowly until they were closed and she was asleep, Peter soon following her.

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hockeyforthefirsttime · 3 years

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The Art of Not Falling in Love- Roope Hintz

AN: This is a piece that is very self indulgent BUT it has a plot despite being like 80% smut. I am thinking of making more parts if people like this

Word count: 5k

TW: like its smut.. so like what do you expect. (Wrap it before you tap it) spanking light dom!Roope female reader

You could never quite understand how you got into this situation. You’d sworn to never fall in love ever. The pain of watching the gruesome divorce of your parents, the way your friends seemed to find “the one” left and right, only to be heartbroken, was simply too much. So you decided to simply don’t fall in love ever.

And you’d kept that promise to yourself, ever since 15. Sure a few crushes came up now and then, but you never acted on them, and you made sure no one knew about the feeling. The only person in your life that knew about this promise to yourself was your best friend Jamie.

The first person you’d met in Dallas when you’d first moved there. You had been a freshman in college and he had been, ironically so, the first person to hit on you in Dallas, and you hadn’t even officially gotten there yet. It happened on the plane ride. He was seated beside you and you couldn’t for the life of you remember the pick up line he used. You just know it was bad, cause you remember laughing at it and the way he tried to manage his long limbs into the airplane seat. It had gone uphill from there on, and you were glad he didn’t get offended by you laughing at him.

Now, however, you were sitting in the stands of the American Airlines Center, watching him and his team scramble across the ice in a turnover, passing the puck up the ice. Roope Hintz picks it up and flicks it into the goal, just over the left shoulder of the Blackhawks goalie, making the Stars take the lead with three minutes left in the third period. The stands erupt in wild cheers and the team celebrates on ice. You jump with the rest of the crowd, and clap enthusiastically. Knowing that it’s gonna be an insufferable team to meet afterwards. After all, athletes tend to be after winning a game like this.

The buzzer goes off and the Dallas Stars have officially ended their losing streak. The crowd is going wild, jumping up and down, making the stands shake just a little. Thats when you decide to sneak out of the stands and find your way to the outside of the locker room, where Jamie had promised he would meet you.

You have been around a few times, and sure enough you find your way. Jamie had made sure to let the security staff know that you would be around after the game. There is a soccer ball laying around so you pick it up and start bouncing it on your jeans clad thigh, then dropping it down onto your foot and up again, alway in control. You lose yourself to the ball, concentrating on keeping it in the air, so much so that you don’t notice the door slamming open until the boom of it makes you drop the ball.

“Jesus fuck.”

You whisper as you look up to find the source of the noise. What you find shouldn’t surprise you, but seeing a shirtless Roope Hintz standing there with a frown on his face, makes heat rush up your neck regardless.

“Who are you?”

He looks suspiciously at you, taking in the skinny jeans and the absence of a jersey. As well as the forgotten soccer ball.

“Sorry, just here for Oleksiak.”

You try to shrug it off, looking for the ball again. His eyes squint suspiciously at you, but his head tilts backwards as he calls for Jamie. He comes bounding out of the locker room, shirtless, but fresh out of the shower. He’s in the middle of zipping up his game day slacks, and the smile already on his lips gets wider.

“You could have waited with the others you know?”

Jamie says cheekily to you. The heat to your face returns, but not in full force. You look at his tall stature and the smaller man beside him. And for some reason, the blonde star of the night is the one to make you look away. You shoot daggers at Jamie instead.

“You know, you could have told me where they were, so I didn’t have to stand here like some other crazed fan.”

Roope slowly turns around and walks away, closing the door with one last curious look directed at you.

“Oh come on, we all know you’re crazy for me.”

Finally you can feel yourself relax a little, with a sigh you take a step closer to him.

“Yeah, crazy for you to leave me alone.”

He wraps you up in his arms and lifts you up in the air, laughing as you gasp at the surprise of being lifted up.

“Congrats by the way, you played well today.”

You say to him, as he lets you back down on the ground again.

“Thank you Sparks.”

“Now go get dressed completely, I suppose you want to celebrate tonight?”

His signature, tooth lacking smile is on full display as he slings an arm around your shoulders. Jamie looks at you with a mischievous look.

“We really want to celebrate this, and besides, we really need to get you laid.”

You wrench your way out of his grip and scowl at him, pushing him in the direction of the door to the locker room.

“Get dressed you idiot.”

You say with a flat voice, trying to remain serious, and failing when you see Jamie wink at you last minute. You immediately go back to juggling the soccer ball, as the door slams shut.

A couple of girls are walking towards you, and you suspect they’re here looking for their boyfriends or husbands. That’s until you see the flustered cheeks and whispers of “I can’t believe we made it all the way here.” and the agreements that follow.

Their eyes land on you and your soccer ball, and their expressions instantly sour. You try to shrug it off, but when the whispering starts again, you look up from the ball. You start getting suspicious when one of the three girls flicks her long, perfectly curled, brunette hair over her shoulder and opens her immaculately painted lips to say something.

“You shouldn’t be here you know.”

The confidence in her voice almost has you fooled for someone who belongs there. Almost. You’ve never seen her close to any of them ever, even if you had managed to stay out of the public eye yourself. Something about this trio didn’t feel right. You stop juggling the ball and drop it to your foot, catching it without bounce and then placing your foot on top of it.

“Why not?”

You ask out of curiosity of what the answer would be.

“Well, it’s reserved for the wags, you know, so you don’t belong here.”

You tilt your head and raise a brow, questioningly.

“Isn’t that what the owner's box is for? you know with reserved seats, food and really comfortable sitting options?”

A blush seems to rise through her make- up and you restrain yourself a little, you really don’t want to make her an enemy. Just in case.

“Yeah.. I just need to see my man before we head home.”

She stutters out, looking at her two friends who nod encouragingly at her.

“Okay, just remind me who it is again?”

You play dumb, knowing that the media is about to get out of the room in a minute.

“Jamie ofcourse.”

And her voice is so confident as she says it, you let a smile show before chuckling. They really thought they could fool anyone with that. Just in that moment, the door opens and cameras and notepads or tape recorders start filing out of the door.

You walk over to the door, holding it open for the stream of reporters and crew. Then you duck a head in and yell for Jamie.

“Oleksiak, your girlfriend is here…”

It isn’t intentional all the way, but it comes out in a sing- song voice.

The entirety of the team turns to face you. Briefly you meet the eyes of Roope, who’s still shirtless. Just as Jamie passes you by with a confused look, you tap his now clothed arm to make him bend down just a little.

“Ehh, so someone somehow got past security, apparently you’re her boyfriend.”

You say to him, loud enough for the closest teammates to hear.

“Jesus Christ, not again.”

Jamie mutters. Stephen Johns is closest and has his phone in seconds calling someone. You let a glance out the door and see the girls huddled together, suddenly looking unsure. Jamie takes a look over your shoulder and sighs.

“Guess I should distract them until security gets here, just stay here.”

You roll your eyes, but stay put. Then suddenly you realise where you are, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry guys, didn’t mean to intrude, just thought you should know about the girls outside.”

You say, trying to not look too closely at anyone. You can feel the heat rising up your neck.

“‘S alright, not everyday we get to know a girl from Jamie's side.”

Tyler Seguin says from his seat by his gear.

“Oh I know, he has a hard time finding decent ones.”

You say it absentmindedly, but the entire team seems to crack up at that. You feel a little bad, but you also know it as true and it's already said, so you can’t take it back.

“Seems like he did alright with you.”

Roope says as he pulls his button up over his arms and starts pushing the buttons through the holes.

“Ahh, a common mistake. Not a girlfriend and not sleeping with him either.”

His brows raise and a cheeky smile forms on his face. But he doesn’t say anything else. You feel off, of sorts. He doesn’t irk you like the girls did. And it was kind of scaring you. It’s the feeling you get when you start being intrigued, and you don ‘t need that now.

-------

You’re sitting at the bar, alone, not that you mind it, because the girl who finally got Jamie had been ogling him all night and talking too loud, and it was a relief when you saw them walk out the door. He had asked multiple times if it was okay for him to leave, so much so that you almost drove the uber back to her place yourself.

Staring down at the drink in your hand, you realised you were too sober and too far behind on studying (not really) to be sitting here, in a place you didn’t want to be. So you got up, turned around and immediately crashed into a hard chest. Looking up, you find a wild head of blonde curls and a heavenly cologne. Roope Hintz.

“Can I help you you mr. Star?”

You said ask as he leans closer, if that was even possible, without touching you. He at least has the decency to chuckle and look a little bashful as you address him that way.

“You sure you’re not even a little infatuated with Oleksiak?”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back onto the bar and cross your ankles.

“Why? Are you jealous?”

You give him a flirty smile, just for the hell of it. Roope steps forward so his feet are planted on either side of yours, not touching this time either, and leans an arm beside you, making him come impossibly close to you.

“What if I am?”

He asks, and his eyes are roaming all over your face, ignited with a desire you haven’t seen in far too long. It makes a heat pool in your stomach, and a little in your cheeks. Just purely out of the close proximity.

“Then you’re gonna be sorely disappointed.”

You try to sound casual, but Roope leans a little closer.

“And why is that?”

You can tell he is curious, and your judgement is compromised from the closeness of him. Maybe one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

“I’m a one time offer, an-”

Roope doesn’t even let you finish your sentence, before he has your hand in his. Just as you touch it feels like a wave of something indescribable washes over you. You’d never felt anything like it.

“I can do that. Come along now, we haven’t got all night.”

Roope drags you away from the bar and you scramble to keep up the first few steps. When you catch up, he laces his fingers through yours, and heads out the door. It’s cold out, and since you haven’t really been outside today, all you have is the sweater you came to the rink in. You hadn’t been dressed for a club at all, but he didn’t seem to mind. You wrap your arms around yourself, to try to preserve some of the heat from the inside. Roope has a keen eye and steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“One time offer, remember?”

“Oh yeah, that doesn’t mean I can’t be nice, or no?”

And as he pulls you closer to him, you can feel in your bones (and your lower back) that he isn’t nearly as nice as he’s pretending to be. And you catch yourself thinking that you can’t wait to see what this turns into.

“Just, doubting what you define as nice, that’s all.”

At that Roope, let out a little chuckle, before leaning down a little and placing small kisses on your exposed neck. He works his way up to your ear.

“I can be very nice, it all depends on you though.”

With a final kiss to your cheek, he steps away from your heated face, and looks at the uber that’s now in front of you, double checking that it’s the right one. How in the hell had you missed the car pulling up to the curb? Roope opened the door to the back seat and let you enter first. Then he entered shortly after you, told the lady driving the car his address and turned to face you.

“Didn’t think you were that shy, sweetheat.”

He gestured to the entire middle seat between the two of you. You just shake your head, with a coy smile on your lips.

“Just been a while.”

You say quietly, not wanting the driver to hear. Regardless, she looks at you, very discreetly, through the rearview mirror. You give her a reassuring smile trying to convey that you feel safe and that you’re okay. She gives you a wink in return.

“I’ll make it worth your time.”

Roope leads you into an elevator and punches one of the higher numbers, all the while his eyes are roaming you, mentally undressing you. Most definitely wondering what he would find underneath the sweater and jeans. You are absolutely feeling a little shy with the way he looks at you. However, at the same time you’re looking at him, wondering what he is going to do, if he will be soft or hard in demeanor, if he’s gonna be rough or boring, but somehow something in his eyes tells you, it’s gonna be anything but boring.

The elevator stops, and he steps closer, taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and leading the way out of the elevator. Just two doors down he pulls some keys out of his back pocket and steadily unlocks the door, no fumbling. You take it as a good sign even if you already knew that he wasn’t even close to being drunk. The lock clicks in place and the door slides open, revealing a dark hallway. Roope steps in first and flicks on the light. It’s neat, considering what you had been expecting. The door shuts behind you, and you hear the lock clicking.

Toeing off your shoes you turn and find Roope already staring at you. His eyes are considerably darker. He drops the jacket he had been wearing to the floor and beckons you with a finger to follow him, all silent and a little domineering, half a smile on his lips. You see the light flicker on in the hallway as you follow him down to the left and then the first door on the right hand side it’s the only open door, but it’s not fully lit inside. Carefully you step inside, when nothing happens, you take one more step in and the room is suddenly full of tension.

The light here is turned on low, and Roope is standing in front of you taking slow steps towards you. Determined to stand your ground you remain unmoving, but your eyes roam him, and he seems to notice. With a smirk he takes a hand behind his neck and promptly yanks the shirt off of his upper body. You feel your jaw dropping just a little as you scan him over.

“Look at me in the eyes babe.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you remain in your spot steadily holding his gaze. He takes a step closer, and then another, until he’s standing mere inches from you. A devious smile is playing on his lips, when one of his hands lands on your waist. His thumb rubs circles on your hip, just underneath the emerald sweater of yours.

“Are you sure about this?”

He asks, taking his other hand up and caressing your cheek. You nod your head yes.

“I’m gonna need you to use your words for me.”

The hand that’s on your cheek is suddenly forcing your face upwards to meet his eyes.

“I’m sure about this.”

You whisper, again meeting his eyes. Just as the sentence leaves your mouth, he immediately goes to kiss you, but you pull back just slightly, just to tease, and maybe test him a little. He sees the mischievous glint in your eyes, and his smile widens.

“Oh you wanna play like that, huh?”

Roope’s hands slip from your body, before meeting again behind your thighs, lifting you up into his arms. You stare down into his darkened eyes, and lean into him. He lets you kiss him for a couple of seconds, before he deepens it. You let him, not really feeling like fighting him. His lips move from yours and down your neck, as he walks towards the bed, you can feel him leaving a few hickies before dropping you onto the bed.

“Off with the sweater, kaunis.”

You look up at him, while crossing your arms and gripping the bottom of the sweater, letting him take in all of you as the green top comes off. Underneath is a simple black bra and you can see his pupils dilate at the sight of you.

“That one I’m gonna take off myself.”

He leans over you, until you’ve laid down flat on the bed. He’s hovering over you, resting on his forearms, yet his hips have already settled between your legs. You can feel him there hard and heavy. His breath playing across your collarbones, makes you feel the anticipation building in your entire body.

He presses a quick kiss to your lips before he starts leaving open mouth kisses down the valley of your breasts, he shifts his weight so he is leaning more on one arm and slides the other underneath your back, and makes quick work of unfastening your bra. The tension leaves the straps and you let them fall off. Then with his teeth he bites the middle of the bra, lifting it off your body and chucking it away with his free hand.

“Upea.”

You don’t question his words, honestly feeling a little more turned on as he speaks to you in a language you don’t understand. With a wink he kisses each of your tits a few times, before moving further down.

“Still good?”

He asks, and you feel your heart ache a little at it, and immediately shove the feeling aside.

“Yes, so good.”

You say, all out of breath as his fingers pop open the button, and slowly pull down the zipper of your jeans. In a swift motion he has his fingers in what you assume is the belt loops and has pulled down your jeans along with the black underwear you had been wearing. Instinctively you try to close your legs, but two calloused hands on either of your knees stops that motion.

“I’ve got you.”

Roope says as he leans into your right thigh and starts leaving kisses again. Closer and closer to your core, and when he finally is there, he switches to the other tigh, repeating the process. Your hands, which have been clenching the sheets, finally go to his long hair, tugging a little. Roope lets out a little groan and you swear you can feel it in your entire body.

“Aww, look how wet you are, all for me?”

He asks in a husky voice.

“All for you, all for you.”

Roope seems to revel in the admittance rolling off your tongue, before he lets himself have a taste. At least that’s what you think is happening. You feel his hot breath fan over your core, and he is painfully close, you lift your hips just slightly to meet his mouth, just as he pulls away.

“My bed, my rules. Now, you’re gonna have to ask really nicely to cum, before I let you. Got it?”

You’re so lost in desperation for his mouth that you can only nod. You both hear and feel the sigh escaping him, before he lands a little smack on the inside of your thigh. It causes you to let out a strangled moan and clench around nothing.

“Didn’t I tell you? Words.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll ask to cum.”

And then he’s all over you. The pent up feeling you have in your body only seems to grow as he spends his time licking and lapping at your folds. With his arms around your thighs and eyes firmly set on yours, your body's working overtime trying to feel everything. You feel your grip on his hair tighten as his mouth finds you clit and a finger easily slides inside you.

“Fuuuck, feels so good.”

You draw out the vocals as he hums against you. Your breathing went uneven a long time ago, but now you’re struggling to control anything that comes out of your mouth. Especially as the second finger enters you and he makes a “come here” motion with his fingers, finally finding that one particular spot. It nearly sends you over the edge.

“Ah ah, ask first.”

Your brain feels like mush as he continues his assault on your pussy.

“Please may I cum?”

Roope hums against you, before leaning away a little.

“No, I want you to beg.”

He goes back in, feeling the way your body is wound so tightly you don’t know where to turn, not being able to think clearly.

“Please, I’ll be so good, just please please let me cum.”

Again Roope hums.

“Okay, only if you’re a good girl though.”

He says looking up at you, with that smirk of his, before he dives back in. You can feel the tension in your body tightening, and when his tongue does a particularly intense stroke over your clit you can’t hold it anymore. Your legs clamp around his head and you let out a drawn out moan of pleasure as he lets you ride out the high on his face.

When you can’t take it anymore, you gently guide his face away from your core. Roope has this cocky grin on his face and you can’t help but like it being directed at you. You pull him up towards you and kiss him deeply, not really caring if you can taste yourself on his lips. Finally he lets your hands wander over the planes of his upper body, feeling the muscles tense and flex as your fingers trace every ridge of his body. He seems to really like kissing you, but he does notice that your hands go lower and lift his hips up a little to make room so you can pop the button of his jeans. As soon as the zipper is down, your hand traces the waistband of his boxers.

“You gonna play with me like this all night, rakas?”

He asks with a playful tone of voice.

“Maybe.”

You tease, pulling on the waistband of the boxers, before releasing it, making it snap against his skin. He leans away from you completely, getting up so he’s on his knees, but otherwise full height. Your legs are caught between his, so you can only sit up as far. Not that you mind though, with the way he towers over you, giving you perfect access to the bulge that’s now in your direct line of vision. Without really meaning to your jaw goes slack. His pointer finger is under your chin, making you look up at him.

“Eyes up here, yeah?”

You nod innocently at him, making him groan at the sight of you.

“Good girl. Now let’s see if we can put that mouth of yours to good use.”

You blush at his words and the smirk on his lips. Regardless, you start peeling the boxers and jeans down his legs. Slowly. Since this is going to be a one time thing, you think, you’re gonna savour this moment. His skin is hot beneath your fingers, but not as hot as your cheeks the moment his cock springs free of it’s confinement. You’re definitely not complaining about any aspect of it.

Without a second thought you put your lips around the angry red tip, letting your tongue explore every inch of his dick. Roope seems to like what you’re doing, judging by the groaning and panting above you. One of his hands is in your hair, doing a makeshift ponytail as you continue to suck him off. Suddenly, he all but pulls you off his cock, which now seems even more red than it was before. With strings of saliva hanging from your mouth, connected to his dick. Roope lets out a groan that makes your inside tingle before he slides back off the bed.

“I’m going to ruin you so good, rakas.”

He kicks off his jeans and boxers before he is over you again. You look him in the eyes nodding, before spreading your legs, letting him settle between them. He cages you in with his arms, and for some reason, even with his dark gaze upon you, you feel safe. And when he grabs your arms, pinning them beside your head you let out a content sigh. Not only because you’re completely letting go, but because you can feel his cock brushing against your stomach. The anticipation is almost killing you.

Roope, kisses up and down your neck, whispering dirty somethings in your ear, because they aren’t nothing. They are all his fantasies, of what he has come up with that he wants to do with you. As well as to you. Most of all though, you think he just enjoys watching you squirm in need of him. When he lets go of your right hand, it traces your throat.

“Now, put my cock inside yourself.”

It’s a demand, and you follow through, out of desperation to feel him inside. You wrap your hand around his dick, carefully tugging at him, running your thumb over the tip, teasing. With a little smile on your lips. Roope is quick to kiss it away, delving into you, with a passion you’ve never felt before. “Inside, now. Or this teasing of yours is gonna have some serious consequences.”

He mumbles against your lips, so you do as told, guiding him to your entrance. You both let out content sighs as he finally sinks into you. He is going slow at first. Letting you adjust to having him inside you.

“Look so good for me like this.”

You can only nod as he starts moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts. He finds a pace and as soon as you start clenching around him, when he hits that part of you. His pace picks up. The hand that’s still holding onto yours, they are now intertwined in each other. His other hand is caressing your hip. You’re pretty much just a blubbering mess of his name and curses as he hits all the right parts.

With a final kiss to your lips, he leans up a bit, so his thighs are resting on his calves creating a steep angle, so you almost slip off him. Almost. He pulls you closer by the hips, making you yelp out, before your legs are planted on either side of him, giving yourself a little more leverage as he hits deep inside of you. The moan that escapes you is genuine, and you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure. At that you feel a sharp sting on your thigh again.

“Eyes on me.”

In the fog of pleasure all you manage to get out is a weak. “Yes, sir.”

Opening your eyes, you see Roope straining a little as well. His cheeks are tinted and his breathing is really uneven. But his eyes are blown with pleasure, and as you guide his hand to your lower stomach where you can vaguely feel him moving in and out of you. It looks like a new fire has been ignited inside him.

His hand slips from yours as he lets it go to rub at your clit again. The pleasure almost becomes too much, and your eyes roll a little at the feeling.

“May I please cum, sir?”

You manage to moan out, barely remembering his demand from before.

“Hold it for like three seconds, I’m gonna count you down.”

So you look him in the eyes and let him blow out your back for a few more thrusts, and then he starts counting down.

“3”

His rhythm changes as he slows down and goes harder, deeper.

“2”

He moans as you clench around him.

“1, cum for me.”

And you do. It starts in your stomach, and like a warm tide it washes over your entire body. Roope fucks you through it, before he finally pulls out and with a loud groan he is jerking himself off, letting go in hot spurts all over your torso. He finishes and stares down at his personal masterpiece. With your rapidly raising stomach and chest covered in his cum, you can tell by the smirk on his lips. He’s satisfied.

“I’ll be right back.”

Roope says with a wink, and you just nod. Because even though you just had the best sex to date, you were trying to gather your thoughts. On how to get home. You don’t see where he goes, but you hear water running from a sink. When he’s back from the bathroom, you assume, he has a wet washcloth in hand and is wearing a fresh pair of boxers. Gently he wipes his cum from your chest and stomach, and a little in between your legs.

And you’re almost completely ruined by how gentle he is. But you have a promise to keep, and you’re not planning on betraying yourself. He leaves again to toss the cloth into the hamper. When he comes back, you have gathered your underwear and bra, and are standing on the floor on slightly shaky legs.

“You’re leaving?”

And that was really the first sign.

“Yeah, one time offer. Remember?”

You answer, looking for your jeans. Roope sweeps them off of the floor and hands them to you.

“Yeah, right.”

You get dressed in silence, and when your last sock is on. You straighten up.

“I’ll just find the way out myself.”

It’s meant to be casual, but Roope immediately refuses.

“No no, I’ll walk you out.”

And he does, following close behind you. You’ve just gotten your shoes on, when your phone pings. It’s a notification from uber that your ride is here. You’ve put your hand on the door knob and opened the door, when Roope, who was leaning against the wall, pulls you back and kisses you deeply.

“Next time you need an orgasm, give me a call.”

He says with a wink.

In the car back to your apartment, you can feel it. You’re not gonna get rid of Roope after what just went down in his bedroom. The worst part of it is that you’re not sure you want it to be a one time thing. Fuck.

#roope hintz #roope hintz smut #roope hintz imagine #roope hintz fic #dallas stars smut #dallas stars imagine #Dallas Stars Blurb #nhl #nhl smut #nhl fic

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Captive

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You’re glad you managed to talk Dream out of giving all that TNT to Wilbur, but what you don’t know is just how far Wilbur is willing to go to get his hands on it.

Warnings: tw// depictions of kidnapping, some cursing (Tommy exists), + one scene with slight violence

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: requested by an anon who wanted to see dream’s reaction to a kidnapping of his s/o! i played around a little with the original idea, but i hope you enjoy!

The door to your bedroom opened with a soft creak, the wooden door squeaking at its hinges as you pushed it open. You strolled inside with a tune on your lips as you sat on your side of the bed, a soft breath escaping you.

It had been a long day, to say the least.

To think of all the days Wilbur could have confronted Dream, it was going to be today.

You sighed at the thought, pressing a finger to your temple. It was difficult to pinpoint just when Wilbur had begun his slow descent into madness, but it was growing more prominent with each passing day. He no longer resembled the kind, sarcastic man you once recognized, instead having devolved into something far more sinister and cunning. You didn’t realize just how low he’d sunk until he had called Dream to him, and by proxy you, with a particular demand.

He wanted as much TNT as Dream could possibly provide in return for the fall of Manberg.

You could hardly believe your ears, let alone your eyes as you watched Wilbur describe exactly how his plot would unfold. The crazed look in his eye was terrifying, and you could tell with just one look that he was too far gone to be saved.

Before Dream even had the chance to say anything, you had grabbed his hand, tugging him a few feet away from Wilbur with the simple request of a few moments to talk things over.

“You can’t give it to him,” you remembered saying, your eyes dark with resolve. “You just can’t.”

His cold, ceramic mask had stared back at you. “Why not? Manberg is doomed to fall, anyways—why shouldn’t we help him?”

You had pursed your lips, your gaze growing serious. “Dream, we shouldn’t be condoning this. Who knows how many lives would be lost if we went through with it?” You had wrapped your hands around his, a silent plea flashing in your eyes as your voice grew soft. “Please, Dream. This is wrong. Please, I’m begging you.”

A moment had passed in silence, your shoulders tense with worry before his hand wrapped around yours, squeezing gently. “Okay,” he had murmured, and you could almost imagine the look in his emerald eyes. “I won’t do it.”

To say Wilbur was livid would be an understatement.

You shivered at the thought. Rarely did Wilbur lose his composure, but today was the most terrifying sight of them all. You’d never seen him shout like that. Dream had to practically cart the both of you back to the SMP, Wilbur’s incessant curses lingering in the air for miles to come.

With a sigh, you curled your toes, shaking your head. Even though no trade was made, you still couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

A quiet meow came from in front of you, and you raised your head to see Patches standing a few feet away. A smile spread across your face and you clicked your tongue, bending over to tap your fingers along the ground at your feet. “C’mere, pretty,” you crooked, “c’mere!”

“Are you talking about me?”

You looked up at the doorway to your bedroom, your lips twitching at the sight of Clay leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and his mask in hand. Below you, Patches padded across the wooden floorboards to your feet, rubbing up against your leg. “Mm,” you mused, tapping at your chin, “I wouldn’t call you pretty, per se.”

He gasped, holding his hand over his chest as though he’d been shot. “Really?”

You cocked your head at him as Patches leapt up onto the bed next to you, her tail brushing again your arm. “Why, yes.” A teasing grin danced on your lips. “As a matter of fact, I’d say you’re much more handsome than you are pretty.”

He raised a brow at you, a cocky look crossing his face. “Oh, handsome, you say?”

You smirked back at him. “Very.”

Patches crawled over into your lap, her paws pressing gently against your calves as she settled in. You smiled down at her, but the tension in your shoulders didn’t drop. Sucking in a breath, you opened your mouth.

“Clay?”

He turned, his emerald gaze shooting to you. “Yeah?”

You swallowed, casting your gaze down toward the ground. “I know we already talked about this, but I just wanted to be extra sure.”

He stared at you for a moment, setting his mask on the nightstand on his side of the bed. “Is this about Wilbur?”

Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes nodding slowly. “Yes,” you said in a small voice.

His lips quirked, and he slipped into the spot on the bed next to you. “I know you’re still worried. I don’t exactly have a...” He paused. “...great track record with TNT.” You let out a breathy laugh. “But I won’t hand any of it over.” He reached over, his hand slipping yours into his. “Not even a single stick of dynamite. I swear it.”

You peered up at him through your lashes, your eyes searching his. “Do you promise?” you whispered.

He leaned toward you pressing his forehead to yours as he rubbed his thumb in small circles on the back of your hand. “Promise.”

Your lips curled up at his words, and you raised his other hand to his cheek, leaning in. He met you halfway as your lips pressed against one another in a soft kiss. You could feel him smile into your mouth, and you stifled a giggle as he pulled away with a lopsided grin on his face.

On your lap, Patches let out a soft meow. Her big green eyes blinked lazily up at you before she dipped her head, nuzzling her face into your pyjama pants. Meowing back at her, Clay reached over and stroked his hand gently over the top of her head, his smile widening at the sound of her soft purr. You opened your mouth to say something when you were cut off by a yawn pushing past your lips.

Clay cast a soft look at you, and he tilted his head at you. “Hey, let’s go to bed, yeah? You’re tired.”

You feigned annoyance, sticking your tongue out at him. “Yeah, because you’re so boring.”

He looked appalled. “What?”

Your lips twitched into a grin. “Kidding.” You squeezed his hand in yours lovingly. “I love spending time with you, even if we’re not really doing anything.”

Getting to his feet, he walked to the other side of the room, flicking off the lights and enveloping the room in darkness. “Well,” he said, striding over to his side of the bed and pulling back the covers as he slipped in, “you and I will get to do a whole lot of nothing together if you get in bed, okay? So, hurry up.”

You rolled your eyes but relented, your eyes glimmering with mirth. “Alright, alright.”

Ever so gently, you picked Patches up from off your lap and set her on the ground, your heart sighing at the sound of her soft mewl. The moment her paws touched the ground, she trotted out of the room, the door swinging closed behind her. You shook your head at her before sliding under the sheets. Almost automatically, Clay opened his arms up and you snuggled up to his chest, a comforting warmth enveloping you as his arm draped over your waist.

“Goodnight, Clay,” you whispered into the dark, just for him to hear.

You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Goodnight, [Y/N].”

You were stirred out of sleep by an itching in your throat.

Blinking open your bleary eyes, you coughed into the crook of your arm once, slowly growing conscious with each passing second. The room was still dark, the moon peeking down at you through the windowpanes, and pressed against your back was something warm and solid. You smiled, snuggling back against Clay’s chest, his arm unconsciously tightening around you as your eyelids fluttered shut.

Just as you felt yourself about to doze off again, another cough flew from your lips.

Quickly covering your mouth, careful not to wake Clay, you suddenly realized just how dry your mouth was. Frowning, you opened your eyes once more, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you slowly wrapped your hand around Clay’s wrist. With a touch as light as a feather, you slipped his arm off from around your waist and you wiggled out of his warm embrace, bringing yourself up into a sitting position. You were seconds away from pulling off the covers when he shifted, his face nuzzling into the spot where your head once lay.

“Mm... [Y/N]...” he murmured, sleep slurring his words together as his hand twitched at his side. “Wh... where’re ya going...?”

You smiled, caressing the side of his face with the back of your hand. “Just gonna get a glass of water,” you whispered back, moving some hair away from his face.

Leaning over, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Sweet dreams,” you said into his ear as you pulled away, watching with a fond smile as he relaxed at your touch, the stress vanishing from his features in an instant.

Seeing Clay sleep was more comforting than you’d like to admit. It was one of the only times where he ever got to just be Clay and not Dream—just a simple guy who needed his rest just like anybody else.

Swinging your legs off the bed, you sliding out from under the covers and tread across the floor, your socks silencing your every step. You swung open the door as quietly as you could, slipping out into the hall and making your way toward the kitchen. Turning on the lights would surely hurt your eyes too much, so you fumbled around the wall for a moment before pulling open a cabinet and successfully grabbing a glass for yourself. Finding the sink was much easier, and you shortly found yourself closing the tap and taking a long swig of water from your cup.

As you sipped, the wind howled outside, sending a chill running down your spine. You shivered, snuggling further into your sweater. You were glad you wore something thicker to bed, today—it was cool out.

Once you finished, you set your glass back in the sink and began walking back to your and Clay’s bedroom. You had maybe made it halfway down the hall when you heard something a quiet clank behind you. You froze, turning to look over your shoulder.

“Patches?” you called out into the dark hallway, another chill overtaking your shoulders. “Is that you?”

Before you knew what was happening, an arm had wrapped around your waist, tugging you back and pressing you firmly against someone’s chest.

Panic shot through your skull like a bullet, and you opened your mouth to let out a scream.

All of a sudden, a fist slammed against your temple, and you felt your vision immediately darken, your shout vanishing as though it had been ripped away from you.

Clay, was the last thing you thought before the darkness consumed you.

Clay awoke to the feeling of something soft tickling his nose.

“What...?” he muttered aloud to himself, batting a hand over his face. For a moment, the softness disappeared, but it returned a second later. Slowly blinking awake, he saw a paw brush over his forehead, and he nearly rolled his eyes.

“Ugh, Patches,” he said with a slight frown, watching as the cat leapt over his head. The bed dipped at his side where she landed, and he sighed. “[Y/N],” he murmured while brushing a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, “did you want to feed her?”

A moment passed, and he was met with silence.

“[Y/N]?”

More silence.

Furrowing his brow, he rolled over, his arm reaching for your warmth.

His blood ran cold when his hand met nothing but the cold sheets.

He bolted upright, his hands desperately grasping at the sheets as his eyes darted this way and that across the room. Everything in the room seemed just as it was the day before, but with one main difference.

You weren’t there.

Clenching his jaw, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recall every memory he had of the last night. He remembered the warmth of your lips on his cheek as you slipped out of bed, murmuring something about getting of glass of water. He didn’t remember you coming back to bed after.

He cast a glance at Patches, who sat at his side and looked back at him with her big green eyes. She meowed at him, and it all suddenly clicked.

The next few moments came in a blur. He kicked the sheets off of him, not bothering to fix them as he slid off the bed and scrambled towards the door, swinging it open with a slam. Next thing he knew, he was running through every room of the house, ducking his head into the kitchen and pantry, the bathroom and closet. No door remained unopened, and no stone remained unturned.

It was only after he had gone through just about every single room that he let the terror begin to set in.

Nowhere—you were absolutely nowhere to be found.

He swallowed, his hands tightening into fists at his side as he paced through the corridor. You wouldn’t have left him, especially not like this. If you were going to leave, you would have told him before you did so. Hell, you would have at least left a note.

It was at that moment that he passed the front entrance, and his eyes flashed, landing on a folded piece of paper taped to the wooden door.

A note.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Clay rushed over, practically tearing the page off the door before frantically unfolding it. His eyes darted rapidly across every line, reading in a frenzy.

Salutations, Dream!

It has come to my attention that you are growing funnier than ever, rudely declining my humble request. Well, I have just the perfect remedy for that! You might have noticed that you happen to be missing a rather precious possession of yours, and I’m sure you’ve been in quite the panic. In brief, yes, I have [Y/N]; they’re my captive. I’ll be keeping them until I have you providing me with what I asked. I’ll take as much TNT as you can provide, but at least a stack would be just wonderful. You know what they say—the more the merrier!

I may have never seen your face before, but I can just imagine how angry you must be. Boohoo, are you gonna cry? How cute. Don’t you know, Dream? All’s fair in love and war.

My fondest regards,

Wilbur Soot

Clay reread the note once, twice, thrice until he had nearly memorized every single word inked onto the page. Staring down at the paper in his hands, a slow, sinking sense of horror dug its claws into his shoulders.

Wilbur had you. He had taken you, and you were his hostage.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing thickly. “Fuck,” he muttered, low and dark.

There was no question about it—he was going to get you back. But how?

He wasn’t about to hand over the TNT Wilbur so desperately wanted that easily. You two had even talked about it and why that would be a terrible idea—he promised you he wouldn’t. He knew that you would be absolutely heartbroken if he broke your promise, even if it meant saving you.

He gritted his teeth, a low growl escaping his throat. No one else besides you knew that he had even attempted to conspire with Wilbur. There was no one he could turn to for help.

It looked like he was going to have to do this himself.

Clay turned, a dark look forming in his eyes as he crumpled the note in his hands, the paper’s edges digging into his skin.

Even if he had to do it alone, there was one thing he was sure of.

He was going to bring you back home, safe and sound.

“You know, this is probably the most pathetic you’ve ever looked.”

You grimaced, the frown on your face deepening as you tugged against the ropes binding you to your chair.

“Thanks, Wilbur.”

To think you’d be kidnapped in the dead of night by Wilbur Soot of all people. And just to make matters even worse, you were tied to a chair in front of him wearing your pyjamas.

This might just be the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to you.

He flashed you a manic grin, spinning around with his arms outstretched. “Oh,” he sighed, pressing a hand to his cheek thoughtfully, “what do you reckon Dream’s feeling right about now?”

From his spot against the wall, Tommy muttered quietly, “He’s probably pretty fuckin’ pissed.”

Wilbur stopped his spinning, his expression falling flat as he tucked a hand under his chin. He nodded once, then twice. “Good. That’s good. We want him to be mad. We want him to be panicking.” He turned, casting a glance at you. “Do you think he’s panicking? Does Dream panic?” His deranged grin returned. “I would love to see him panic.”

You kept your mouth shut, an uneasy feeling churning in your gut. This was nothing like the Wilbur you remembered.

A cough came from your left, and your gaze darted to follow it. Tommy still leaned against the wall, his eyes lying on yours. He almost looked guilty standing there, his hands clenched into fists at his side. The moment your eyes locked onto his, he turned away. Your heart sank. Is Tommy in on this, too? A part of you didn’t want to believe it, but the other couldn’t imagine any other reason why he would be here.

“Say, [Y/N],” Wilbur said, his voice drawing your attention back to him, “how many blocks of TNT do you think Dream would be willing to give up for you?” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Just how much do you think you’re worth?”

You froze, staring down at your feet. That was a good question, one you weren’t quite sure you wanted to know the answer to.

On one hand, Clay loved you—you knew that. He had told you so more times than you could count. But at the end of the day, Clay wasn’t just Clay, the man you loved. He was also Dream, the genius mastermind. Was he really going to spend the resources to save you at the cost of so much? Would you be left to the mercy of a madman? The thought terrified you.

On the other, you were equally as terrified of just how far Clay might go. He was stubborn like that. If he came with the TNT in hand to trade for your safety, you knew you would be putting dozens of people’s lives on the line just for yours. That wasn’t a fair trade, either.

You felt sick to your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “Wilbur,” you said, trying to ignore the burn of the rope around your wrists, “this isn’t like you.”

He suddenly went still, and a stone of anxiety dropped into the pit of your stomach.

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

He whirled, a stony look crossing his features. “It isn’t?” he repeated slowly, taking a step toward you. “Oh, it isn’t?”

You gulped, a tinge of fear running down your spine as he stopped in front of you, bending over to be eye-level with you. His dark gaze bore into yours, almost as if his eyes were piercing right through you. His low voice wrapped around you, constricting you tighter than the rope binding you to the chair.

“The old Wilbur is long dead and gone now, [Y/N],” he whispered, deadly quiet, “and he isn’t ever coming back.”

You could only stare and try to calm the hammering of your heart in your chest.

Insane—he had gone absolutely insane.

Leaning back again, Wilbur gave you another once over before waving dismissively, turning his back on you. “Tommy,” he said, “put [Y/N] in the cell and make sure it’s locked until Dream shows up with his gifts.”

He began stepping away when he suddenly stopped, throwing one more glance over his shoulder. “Oh, and don’t even try to escape.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You and I know very well that you wouldn’t make it even five feet.”

With that, he strolled up the stairs, disappearing out of view. Your shoulders sagged with relief the moment he vanished from sight. You didn’t think you could stand locking eyes with him for another second.

It was then that you suddenly felt yourself losing contact with the ground, the chair being lifted along with you. You gasped, turning your head to see Tommy picking you up, his eyes averted from yours. You opened your mouth, then closed it when you saw just how much remorse was swimming in his gaze.

You watched silently as he carried you over to the empty cell carved into part of the ravine wall. Flinging open the iron bars with one hand, he pushed your chair inside with the other. Setting you down flat on the earth, Tommy slowly began untying the knots binding your wrists to the back of the chair. A few moments later, you felt the ropes unravel, the uncomfortably warm tightness of the rope finally giving way to the cool air. You rubbed at your wrists, wincing slightly at the aching of your skin.

Before you could even properly register what was happening, the sound of iron slamming against iron filled the air, and you whipped your head up to see Tommy shoving a key in the cell padlock. A loud click echoed off the stone walls as he turned the key, grimacing.

Your body moved without thinking. Scrambling forward on buckling legs, you bolted forward, your hands gripping onto the freezing iron bars to regain your balance. “Tommy,” you said, your wide eyes scanning his face for any sign of warmth. “Tommy, please—this isn’t right and you know it.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away, a guilty look flashing across his face. “I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he said quietly as he turned away, sorrow seeping into each syllable.

The words felt like a slap to your face, and you were stunned into silence as he walked off without another word. Not even Tommy—wild, reckless but good-intentioned Tommy—was on your side.

You were truly and utterly alone.

Turning, you took in the furniture in your cell. There was a single, small cot in the corner of the room, and a door located on the same wall as the headboard. You could only assume it led to a bathroom, Otherwise, the rest of the room was entirely barren with nothing to be seen.

So, this was what it was like to be a prisoner.

Something stung at the back of your eyes, your heart squeezing so tightly in your chest that it felt like it was going to burst. Letting go of the iron bars, you made your way across the room, climbing onto the cot and leaning your back against the wall. You curled up on the thin sheets, tucking your knees to your chest.

This wasn’t like the warmth of the bed you shared with Clay. It was cold, and barren, and so, so lonely.

You missed him, and it hurt.

You could only hope that the pain would fade with time.

Clay slammed his head into his desk, a deep sigh of pure frustration escaping his lips as his breakfast sat untouched beside him.

It had been two days since you’d been taken, and he had never felt so terrible.

He never realized just how much of his daily life revolved around you. He woke up with you, he ate with you, he slept next to you, he laughed with you, he loved you. It wasn’t until you had been ripped away from him that he truly understood how much you had woven yourself into his life.

He missed you more than he thought was humanely possible.

Staring down at his bowl, he shoved a spoonful of cereal in his mouth and began to chew. He couldn’t even begin to imagine just how awful Wilbur and Tommy were being to you, right now. Did they give you a bed to sleep on? Were they feeding you? How were you sleeping?

His mind absolutely swarmed with thoughts of you, consuming every empty space in his head, and he groaned. He couldn’t spend all his time contemplating ‘what if’s. He had to focus on the rescue plan. There was no way in hell that he was going to hand over that TNT—he promised you—but there was also absolutely no chance that he was going to abandon you.

He swallowed the mouthful, setting his spoon down as he clenched his jaw. The plan was complex, but do-able. Unfortunately, it was also risky—more risky than he’d like. Any sentence that included “[Y/N]” and “risky” was not a sentence he liked, to say the least.

He spared another glance at his cereal. It tasted like ash. Shaking his head, he stood up with a deadpan expression, walking over to the sink and reaching for the tap. Despite his calm demeanour, all he felt was rage—pure, unfiltered rage.

Just then, there came a knock at the front door.

Clay’s hand froze, halfway toward the tap. Grimacing, he turned on his heel to grab his mask from off the tabletop. With practiced ease, he attached the clasp to the back of his head, the cool plastic of his mask securely pressed against to his face.

Striding over to the lobby, he wrapped his hand around the handle, sucking in a breath and exhaling. Then, he pulled the door open, opening his mouth in greeting, but the words died in his mouth.

He stared at the figure standing in front of him, his eyes wide in disbelief.

This wasn’t who he was expecting at all.

“I want to help.”

You chewed on your lip, the cogs inside your head spinning at what felt like a million miles a minute as you stared long and hard at the stone wall.

How long has it been since you last saw daylight? You weren’t sure at this point.

You could hardly tell if it was day or night anymore. You could sometimes guess whenever you got a glimpse of Tommy’s bedhead when he brought food to you, but then you learned that the kid liked to take naps, so that went out the window.

You frowned, slumping over on your knees. This sucks. I’m completely and utterly useless. A wave of sadness washed over you. I want to go home.

A low whistle echoed through the ravine, a shiver running down your spine. If you could escape, you probably would have at this point. The problem was, you neither had the key to your cell, nor did you know where in the world you were even being held. You knew that it was somewhere underground of course, but that was hardly any basis to work with if you wanted to find your way back home.

Simply put, you were stuck, and all you could do was sit and wait.

You closed your eyes, picking up the thin blanket they had given you and wrapping it around yourself. You’d hardly gotten any sleep lately. Maybe you should at least try.

Some time passed in silence, your breathing gradually slowing down as your joints grew more relaxed. You were just on the brink of sleep when you were startled awake by the sound of a key turning.

Jolting, you lifted you head to see a figure swinging open your cell door and slipping inside. You jaw dropped.

“Tommy?” you said.

Immediately, he pressed a finger to his lips as his other hand shot out to grab your wrist, his gaze panicked. “Shh!” he hissed, his grip tightening. “Be fucking quiet, will you?”

You snapped your mouth shut, your eyes the size of saucers. Just what the hell is happening, right now?

With a tug, he pulled you to your feet, your mind still wracked with questions. You shot him a quizzical look, but he simply shook his head at you, dragging you forward and out of the cell. Your eyes swept across the ravine as he took a sharp turn, pressing you flat against the wall beside him.

There was a beat of silence. You held your breath.

Then your legs were flying out beneath you as he suddenly pulled you up the stairs you had seen Wilbur tread so many times before.

Right. Wilbur. Wasn’t Tommy on Wilbur’s side? You didn’t know anymore.

At the top of the stairs, rather than having reached the surface, you found yourself standing in a small dirt hut, with two beds pressed against the wall and a few chests lined up on the ground. You felt your confusion only grow as Tommy opened up a small hatch at the top before gesturing for you to climb up. You didn’t even bother asking before grabbing onto the sides of the trapdoor and housing yourself upward, gasping at the feeling of fresh air filling your lungs.

Above you, tall oak trees stood over you, the night sky shrouding the earth in darkness. You were in a forest, but most importantly, you were out.

You tumbled to the ground, your hands pressing into the dewy grass beneath you. You could hardly care that you weren’t even wearing shoes. A giddy smile crossed your face and you threw your hands into the air as you opened your mouth in a shout. “I’m ou—!”

A hand slapped over your mouth, cutting off your scream of delight. Tommy panicked face came into view in front of you, shaking his head wildly. “Don’t,” he mouthed, the word coming out silently, “say a word.”

You nodded, your eyes wide as you tapped at the back of his hand. He paused for a moment before removing it from your face, his shoulders sagging. He turned, quickly taking in his surroundings before gesturing for you to follow him.

You couldn’t help but make a face. Tommy was never careful. This had to be serious.

With each couple of steps he took, he would press himself up against a tree, waiting for a moment before continuing, making sure not to make a single sound. Following after you, you did the same, confusion continuing to make your head spin more and more with each passing minute.

After a little while, a clearing suddenly came into view, and Tommy abruptly stopped, holding his arm out to signal for you to do the same. Freezing, you oh-so slowly trailed after him as he ducked behind another tree trunk, peeking out just beyond the dark wood. You squinted your eyes into the dim clearing, trying to pinpoint just what exactly he was being so cautious of.

Your heart dropped.

There, in front of you, stood Wilbur, his back facing you. On the opposite side of the clearing was a masked Dream, a chest lying next to his feet.

He’s doing it, isn’t he? you thought. He’s giving up the TNT. Something inside you cracked. He’s breaking your promise.

You watched as Wilbur took a step forward, and you could hear his crooked smile as he spoke. “How kind of you to join me tonight, Dream.”

Dream didn’t respond, his mask as emotionless as always while his hand remained completely still atop the chest at his side.

Wilbur twisted to the side, waggling his fingers in neurotic excitement as he pointed at the chest. “Oh, is that a present for me? Did you really come all this way just to give me—little ol’ me—a gift?”

Dream patted the chest next to him, taking a few steps back as he spoke coolly. “It sure is.” He leaned forward in a subtle bow, gesturing toward the wooden case. “Why don’t you open it? I’m sure you’ll like what you’ll find.”

Wilbur let out a quiet sequel, skipping over to the chest with a bounce in a step. “Don’t mind if I do.”

You could see a bead of sweat roll down Tommy’s cheek beside you out of the corner of your eye, his cerulean eyes narrowed in what you could describe as pure stress. Wilbur crept up to the box, his gloved fingers slowly unbuckling the front clasp before ripping the top open with glee, only to come face to face with an all too familiar and grave sight.

It was empty.

Wilbur’s blood boiled as a whirlwind of images from the past shot across the back of his eyelids. He whipped his head around, his lips curling into a scowl only to fall away at the sight of Dream holding a stick of dynamite, the tail sparking with an ember.

His eyes widened, and you watched as Dream dropped the stick to the earth.

“You fu—”

The explosion was massive, immediately wracking the air with a deafening boom as ash flew into the air. Wilbur’s arms flung in front of his face, coughing as he covered it from the rising debris. Another explosion followed the first, then another. In an instant, the entire area was fogged over with thick, black smoke, completely obscuring his vision.

You swallowed, your mouth going dry as your gaze hopelessly searched for Dream in the dark.

Just then, a hand tapped on your shoulder.

You whirled with a start, coming face to face with a familiar white mask.

“Dream?” you whispered, your mind still reeling from the shock of everything that had just happened.

Without missing a beat, Tommy shoved you forward, pointing deeper into the woods. “Go, go, go!” he hissed into your ear. “This is your one fucking chance, just get the fuck out!”

You didn’t hesitate to heed his words, stumbling forward as you ran for your life. Adrenaline pumped itself into your veins like a lifeline, overriding your confusion and exhaustion. Behind you, you could hear Dream on your heels as Wilbur let out a roar.

“You bastard, Dream! Where the hell are you?”

You didn’t look back, sprinting with every ounce of energy that you had as the two of you broke out of the forest. Rushing down the hill that stretched before you, you could see Manberg glowing in the dark like a beacon of light just a few hundred feet away. If you made it into view of the Manberg, you would be safe—Wilbur couldn’t set foot there. Between you and safety lay a single river, and you knew exactly what you had to do.

Gritting your teeth, you leapt forward, the cold water splashing around you as you fell in. Another splash followed right after you, and if you weren’t underwater, you would have let out a sigh of relief. You kicked desperately, pushing yourself through the dark waves as you swam to the other side.

It only took a few moments for you to surface again, your hands making contact with the sand. Gasping for breath, you threw yourself onto the beach, your hair sticking to your face. A split second later, Dream was lying next to you, wheezing with laughter.

“That,” he gasped, “was amazing.”

You laughed. Of course that was the first thing he would say after pulling a stunt like that.

You pulled yourself onto your knees, the sand sinking around you and your soaking weight. Something warm brushed over your face, and you tilted your head back. Just in the distance, the sun was beginning to rise. In the sky. You didn’t think you would miss seeing the sky this much.

Framed by the light of dawn spilling over the horizon, Dream got onto one knee before you, tearing his mask off his face with one hand. His emerald eyes—oh, those lovely, emerald eyes—darted across your face, full of worry.

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching a wet hand towards your cheek, “why are you crying?”

You blinked in surprise and lifted a hand to your own cheek, only to pull it away to find that it was wet, and not from the river. Oh. You hadn’t realized you were crying. You opened your mouth to speak but was cut off by a choked sob flowing out of your throat. “I-I don’t know,” you admitted honestly. “All I know is that I’m really, really happy right now. Like, beyond happy.”

His touch was soft against your cheek. “I can tell,” he whispered. “It must have been scary.”

You nodded, your watery gaze blurring your vision. “It was—” Your voice cracked. “Wilbur was, and I missed you so much.”

He held your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “You’re okay, I’m okay,” he murmured, his touch as light as a feather. “I’m here with you, now. Nothing can hurt you.”

You hiccupped, leaning your face into his calloused palm as aching relief washed over you. “I—” You swallowed. “How did you even find me? I thought Tommy was on Wilbur’s side.”

Clay smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “He is,” he said softly, “but he also knows when to do the right thing.”

You smiled through your tears, your cheeks practically glowing with joy. You knew he was a good kid, even as demonic as he could be. You couldn’t believe you ever doubted him.

You sat there for a few moments more on the riverbank, taking shaky breaths as Clay murmured sweet nothings in your ear, brushing away every stray tear that ran down your face. As your breathing finally returned to normal, you felt the adrenaline finally fade, a certain fatigue taking its place. You slumped forward, his arms reaching out to catch you midway.

“Clay,” you said softly, your eyelids growing heavy, “I’m tired.”

He smiled down at you, pulling back. “Yeah? Okay.” Slowly, he positioned you upright and turned around, crouching down in front of you. “Here, get on my back.”

Carefully wrapping your arms around his neck, he grabbed onto each of your legs tightly before getting to his feet, hoisting you up onto his back securely. “Better?” he prompted.

You nodded sleepily into his neck, relishing in the warmth of his skin against yours, even if he was also sopping wet. “Mhm.”

A fond smile stretched over his face. “Perfect.” He faced forward, his eyes glimmering in the light of the new dawn.

“Then let’s go home.”

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 3 years

Text

ON FEYSAND’S PLOTLINE IN ACOSF

!!!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE ACOSF!!!!

Let’s be honest for a while, okay?

ACOCF had potential to be SJM’s best book, if not for any other reason then because of the sheer idea of it. Coming-of-age, healing story of the most complex and polarizing character she has ever created set in the time of peace, away from the familiar setting (according to the later changed concept which still remains in the snippet at the end of ACOFAS), development of her arguably most feisty and angsty love story... It could be her absolute trumph. Even with the change to stick to Velaris instead of exploring the Illyrian culture of the Mountains and with the added conflict of the Mortal Queens and Koshei, it still could work quite well.

It didn’t. For many, many reasons, but the most important one, in my opinion, being the feysand pregnancy plot.

Nothing about this plotline made sense. Not a single thing. From start to finish, it was an absolute disaster from the character-writing POV, from the narration POV, from every single context of it. It broke the rules of real-life logic, it broke the rules of this fantasy world setting and it completely exposed that Rhysand, while not a bad guy, is a pretty terrible partner, even worse ruler and an absolutely terrible contender for the High King title.

Let’s break this whole mess down (and expect this post to be mammoth-sized. it’s not my fault, though, write to SJM if you have any complains):

1) Feyre, 21, decides to get pregnant, even though less than a year earlier, she expresses the delight with not being forced to bear children to her new mate and told him herself she wants to wait a while and enjoy her life with him. Feyre decides she wants a baby though and Rhysand goes along with it, even though he is aware how young Feyre is and how hard her life has been up until this point. He wants a baby too much to have an honest discussion with Feyre about it, to stop and wonder what is the reason for her sudden change of heart, to reassure her that they have a lot of time ahead of them and don’t need to rush. No. She mades a sudden decision to have a baby after A YEAR OF MARRIAGE and not much more of being turned fae, JUST AFTER having her whole world put upside down, having received a completely new title and responsibilities, surviving the wat and being mated. Great.

2) Feyre decides to get pregnant and Rhys goes along with it less than a year after the end of the bloody war. It is politically a delicate time, everyone is still not sure how the balance will shift, some countries don;t want to sign the peace treaty, etc. There are a lot of enemies and a lot of turmoil remaining. But sure. Let’s have a baby. Perfect time to add yet another target, another weakness that can be use by the Mortal Queens, Beron or whatever else with malicious intent towards the Night Court.

2) Feyre gets pregnant after approximately a year of trying. I know healthy people of reproductive age for whom it takes ages more than this. Fae’s pregnancies are rare af and precious and happen once in a blue moon, but ofc SJM broke the world’s rules for her darling Feyre. And again, for Kallas and Vivianne who are also expecting the baby, even though it has been a maximum of 3 years since they’ve mated. 3 years is also not a particularly long time to try to have a baby for those who have issues with their reproductive systems like Fae women. Thank you, next.

3) Rhys has unprotected sex with Feyre in her Illyrian form when she conceives, even though he knows full well having a winged baby would kill her. He does it anyway, for shits and giggles apparently. They probably have sex in the sky above Velaris, for all we know.

4) The baby has wings. Now, the whole explanation with Illyrian wings being bony (bc they resemble bat wings) and Seraphin ones being more flexible (bc they resemble bird ones) is so insanely stupid that it takes around 3 seconds to wikipedia this shit and find out it’s exactly the opposite. But okay, the baby has wings and Feyre will die while giving birth, along with the baby. Madja forbids Feyre from turning into an Illyrian to carry the pregnancy because it MIGHT hurt the baby. Now, remember, Feyre conceived while in Illyrian form and then turned into High Fae. The baby survived it just fine. The baby MIGHT be hurt by Feyre turning .... but it will FOR SURE die if she stays High Fae and Feyre will too. Idk about you, but I would take the risk of MIGHT instead of FOR SURE. Especially when she is already in labour and dying. Cauldron or Nesta or idk who alters Feyre’s pelvis after the baby is cut out of her for no apparent reason but to allow feysand to make exactly the same mistakes later on. How convinient. And Nesta also alters her own pelvis bc god forbid she won’t be able give Cassian babies like the little useful mate she is now. She should’ve probably done it with Elain too, just in case she decides to fuck Az in the future, because fuck consequences and fuck the stakes in the story that make the readers actually CARE about characters bc they know the author may actually kill them and not save their life every fucking time.

5) I don’t even want to comment on the fact Rhys hid the true danger of this pregnancy for Feyre and their family went along with it. It is absolutely disgusting. And Nesta telling her and that being condemned as the act of the ultimate cruelty which is a final straw to break her self-loathing back.... is abhorrent. It made my sick, actually, phisically sick. There is no justification for it. No at all. And the fact that they did not even consider abortion sends a message that I really don’t want to think too much about it. Feyre was 2 months along when they learned the baby is winged. 2 months. 8 weeks. It wasn’t a baby yet, let’s be honest. They could’ve at least discussed it. She - oh my god, I cannot believe SJM wrote it this way, I’m gonna be sick.

6) For the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, they have no plan to really help her. Labour plan? Haven’t heard if it. They have money and power and access to the healers of the whole land. And did not figure out how to stop her from bleeding out after a fucking C-section. THIS WORLD HAS MAGIC AND THEY COULDN’T STOP HER FROM BLEEDING OUT AFTER A FUCKING C-SECTION. Didn’t even ask Thesan, the High Lord of Healing, to be present. Cassian had guts hanging out of his stomach and survived. Az was fucking slashed apart in Hybern and survived. But yeah, Feyre was on a brink of death after a C-section. Great, Sarah. Keep it up. Let’s force the thought into young girls’ heads that labour is the most lethal thing ever, why not.

7) Also, for the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, Rhys keeps quiet about this idiotic bargain. He, as far as we know, doesn’t make any plans for the moment when him and Feyre and possibly their baby are dead. If they died and baby survived.. who would take care of it? Does Rhys have a conversation with his family about it? NAH. Doesn’t write any sort of plan how to keep the Court going, doesn’t inform even the closest of his co-workers how they should proceed to act after he’s gone and his and Feyre’s power go to god-knows-who. Their deaths would mean a sure chaos for the weakend and fragile Prythian and the Night Court especially and yet nor Rhys nor Feyre make any sort of preparations for it. Rhys doesn’t tell his brothers or Mor or HIS SECOND IN COMMAND they will all soon have to somehow manage without him. He was about to just leave them to their own devices and told them in the last. possible. moment.

And this man - this man is, according to Amren, the best candidate to handle the whole country? To unite it? This fool who makes idiotic bargains, who thinks first about his cock and his own selfish desires and considers his subjects and his responsibilities as a High Lord last and least important of all? Who has so much trust in his wife, in his High Lady, the mother of his son that he doesn’t tell her she will almost surely die on a birthing bed because it MAY UPSET HER?

This plotline was the straw that broke my back. ACOTAR, at it’s heart has always been a ya fantasy with added ‘spice’ and I was willing to bend my critical-thinking skills in many cases and forget and forgive many smaller idiotic issues in this series. But this? It is not idiotic. It is massive and stupid to the point when it becomes insulting to the reader. It was a plot straight out of a bad fanfic, not something that should be in a published book written by someone who writes for a living. You could even argue that Twilight has handled this toxic trope better. I have wasted my money on this book and thinking about it will always be painful for me. So yeah.

ACOSF could be great. Ended up quite pathetic.

#acosf #acosf spoilers #a court of silver flames #rhysand #feysand

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mossybank · 3 years

Text

Forbidden Fruit — K. W.

Based on this post — @kitwalker02 @undeadcortez

Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut with like zero plot, office sex, spanking, nun reader, ooc kit?, fingering, unprotected sex, getting caught

A/N: this is my first smut one shot! Of course it had to be for my beloved Kit! I hope you guys like, I had fun writing it 💕

Y/N honestly couldn't explain the string of events that lead her to her current position, one of Sister Judes most favoured workers—rivaling the lovely Sister Mary Eunice— she had been entrusted to administer a punishment to Kit whilst Jude dealt with another problem in the asylum, something to do with the bakery, but that decision was poorly made.

It was no secret that Y/N spent a lot of time with Kit, many chalked it up to her just being the only employee in this place he'd listen to, but it ran much deeper than that. The two conversed in detail, growing close, and a thick tension always surrounded them; fleeting touches lasting longer than they should and words a little too intimate at times.

And so Y/N though about her current predicament, habit of veil and coif thrown across the room into some dark corner and skirt lifted to reveal her legs, hair messed up from a make out session. Truthfully, Y/N had never been devout, only really becoming a nun for the free housing when she fell on tough times, but that didn't stop a slight guilt from over taking her as she became more aware of her position and location.

"Have you ever..." Kit paused for a second, stood between Y/N's legs, which she had wrapped around his waist, holding a cane, "Had this used on you?" He wouldn't be suprised if Jude punished her own staff alongside the patients.

"Me? Never, but I've seen a few newbies at the receiving end of Jude's wrath."

The girl moved her hands from her sides and placed them upon Kit's, "But.. I've always wondered what it felt like." She said, a sly smile as she looked up at the suspected murderer, something she often forgot he was and quite frankly refused to believe was true, through her lashes.

Kit chuckled, raising a brow at Y/N, "You're a bad girl, sista'." He comments, giving her a peck on the lips, but of course she already knew that.

Y/N bit her lip and leant back, "Well, what are you going to do about that, Mr Walker?" She turned around, elbows leaning on the desk, and shook her hips teasingly, "Spank me?" She winked.

For second, Kit faltered, he was out of practise, but he quickly picked himself back up, playing along with Y/N's game. He placed a hand on her shoulder blades, pushing her down onto the table, leaning some of his weight against her, crotch rubbing against her ass. He leant down, hot breath fanning on Y/N's ear,

"You'd like that, huh, Suga'?" He says lowly, almost a growl, before straightening back up.

The rooms stills for a second, Y/N waiting in anticipation. There's a split second where she doubts that Kit is actually going to do anything, thinking that she'd perhaps gone too far and made the man uncomfortable. Then, it happened—

smack.

It echoed slightly in the room, and Y/N flinched with a gasp, there was a hesitance behind the whip, a feeling of unsurity, but that was to be expected when thrashing someone for the first time.

Kit placed a hand over where he'd spanked Y/N with the cane, cool hands making her squirm, she still had underwear on so he couldn't be sure if it'd left a mark,

"Can I..?" He trailed off, fingers dipping into the waistline of the underwear before slipping it off at Y/N's enthusiastic nods.

Kit's hand trailed over where the cane had made contact with Y/N's skin, there wasn't really a mark, though compared to the bloodied and bruised lines Jude left people with of course anything would look miniscule in comparison. He expected to feel bad about marking the girls skin, but strangely enough he didn't.. In fact, he liked it.

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Kit and tilted her head, "C'mon, I know you can do better than that." Perhaps it wasn't wise to mock the man with a cane, men were often unpredictable and she didn't actually know Kit as well as this situation would lead someone to think, but maybe that thrill was part of the fun for Y/N. She didn't know how he'd react to her taunts, and that was something she relished in.

Kit's brows raised, a look of amusement washing over his face, "I thought you nuns were meant to abstain?"

"Maybe I'm just not like all those other nuns.."

"And I'm the one who's meant to be punished?" Though given Kit's position, it was clearly decided long before now that he wasn't in trouble, "What's the punishment for a slutty little doll like you?"

"Twenty lashes," Y/N could feel Kit's confidence growing steadily with every word between them and bit her lip, "At least."

If she couldn't sit tomorrow, not that the opportunity to do so presented itself often in this job, Y/N would know she only brought it upon herself and it turned her on. God, she'd been a nun for just over a year at this point and not being able to have sex was absolutely killing her. Of course there was a chance Kit would just spank her, leaving Y/N high and dry on her bosses desk, but seeing how worked up Kit was she could tell he wouldn't be leaving without getting his dick wet.

"Twenty? You keep count for me, alright suga'?" Kit shifted his stance slightly, "and look just straight ahead for me."

Ah, look straight ahead, Y/N liked the sound of that. She complied, suprisingly, not being able to see when Kit was going to touch her added to her excitement.

Kit's next spanks were harder, ego improved from his first hit, and Y/N couldn't be happier. The sultry sting that came from each lash only arousing her further, coupling with Kit's words as he worked like a fine wine and steak. Her arousal must've been visible to the eye by now, Kit stopping and putting the cane down, producing a satisfying clink against the wood of the table.

His hands first went for Y/N's ass, caressing over the marks he'd made and soothing them temporarily, before one made its way towards her pussy.

"All this and I haven't even touched you properly." He comments, fingers running across her lips and coating them with her slick.

They were only at thirteen, but that was enough, the two were clearly desperate for more.

Y/N whined at Kit's touch, it wasn't much but it was the most she'd felt in months, and tried to grind against his hand. At this, Kit moved it away, tutting at her.

He mutters out a 'behave' and Y/N hears the metallic jangling of his belt being unbuckled, the sound bringing heat to the tips of her ears and the corners of her lips to twitch upwards.

His hand goes back to her pussy, rubbing it and finding her clit, repeating small circles around it. Y/N moans and bucks her hips, resting her head against the desk she was bent over.

"You're so needy, Doll, all for me." Kit watches her writh on his fingers, one hand working on her clit and the other now going towards her entrance.

The way she pulled him in mesmerised him, her sounds a sweet overture, and he bit his bottom lip in concentration.

"Fuck me," Y/N says airily, letting out a gasp as Kit curled his fingers inside her, "Please, I need it."

Kit was already hard, but if he wasn't Y/N's pleas would have him up in an instant, "I don't have any rubbers, are you sure?" He stops fingering her, Y/N whining at the loss of contact.

Even as far gone as the two were now, Kit wanted to make sure Y/N was comfortable every step of the way.

Nodding, Y/N lifted her head and looked towards Kit, "Just pull out." She says, reassuringly, because everyone knew the pull out method was 100% effective.

That was enough for Kit, he took a deep breath in, "I want to see you," He mutters, pulling Y/N up from her bend over position upon the desk to instead sit on the edge facing him.

Sitting on the hard surface stung but the wood offered a cooling effect alongside it, but eitherway she'd forget the pain soon enough, moulding it to pleasure.

Y/N pulled Kit in for a kiss, hand delving into his hair; it was open mouthed and desperate, teeth clashing a few times without a care from the couple. Glancing at the clock, Y/N knew she should be conscious of time, Sister Jude could return any minute, but she neglected voicing this concern to Kit.

Kit's hand trailed under Y/N's dress, trailing across her stomach before resting on her left boob. In a joint effort, the two managed to get it off, leaving Y/N now in only a bra.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." She says jokingly, with a wink, hand going behind her back to unclasp the bra, wanting Kit to take his shirt of.

Maybe being completely naked was unnecessary, scratch that, it absolutely was completely unnecessary, and was bound to make getting caught worse but that thought didn't cross the minds of Kit and Y/N right now. If it had however, it merely would have been more motivation.

Rejoining to kiss, after a second Kit moves from Y/N's lips to her jaw, trailing kisses down her neck.

"I'm going in." He tells her in advance, the head of his cock teasingly stroking her pussy lips before finally he pushes in.

Kit allows Y/N time to adjust, sliding his length in slowly before bottoming out and waiting for her instruction to continue. At her command he moved, setting a steady pace thrusting in and out.

Y/N leant her head against Kit's shoulder, trying to suppress any sounds knowing the walls of the asylum could be awfully thin when you didn't want them to be.

One of Kit's hands snuck from Y/N's waist to her cunt, going back to play with her clit, and the other venturing to her breast to toy with her nipples, resulting in a sharp gasp from the girl.

Digging her nails into Kit's back, his cock hitting just the right spot, Y/N brings herself to say something she's been holding back

"God, Kit, I think Jude's going to come back soon..—" She manages to force out between laboured breaths and whimpered moans.

"Well, we better make this quick then Suga'." Kit sped up his pace, Y/N arching her back.

She bucked her hips to matched his thrusts, throwing her head back.

Within the next few minutes the office was filled with the sound of skin hitting skin, sweat humidifying the air and stifled moans of pleasure.

Kit let out a groan, "Doll, I'm close—" His hips juddered, pace becoming somewhat erratic.

Y/N hummed, going in to kiss Kit, moaning a soft 'me too' into his mouth.

As Kit pulled out to have his own release, his hands never left Y/N, fingers replacing his cock as his cum coated her stomach. Y/N let out a shuddered gasp, letting out one final moan as the coil deep inside her finally snapped, reaching her high. Kit continued to pleasure her through it, only stopping when she fell slack in his arms and tried to steady her breathing.

She clung onto Kit and slowly regained herself, glancing at the clock, "Shit, we need to clean up before—"

Speak of the devil and he should appear, or rather she in this case, Y/N's mother had always said, for once in her life the saying proved true.

The door opening loudly, Y/N and Kit froze, giving eachother a look of worry before slowly turning and meeting eyes with a livid Sister Jude.

Dear God, there was no saving them today.

#Kit walker x reader #Ahs x reader #American horror story x reader #Evan Peters x reader #Ahs asylum #Ahs 2 #Kit walker #Ahs #American horror story #Evan peters #Imagine #Headcanon #Drable #One shot #Female reader

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deberiaestarescribiendo · 3 years

Text

Fools who dream #Writer Wednesday 07/28/21 Javier Peña x f!reader

For #Writer Wednesday created by @autumnleaves1991-blog and tagging @clydesducktape that creates the masterlist every week. Thank you for the amazing work to both of you!!

Paring: Javier Peña xf!reader (addressed as you/she)

Summary: Long time ago, Javier met a girl full of dreams living a hard life. One day, driving around town he finds out that maybe, dreams do come true.

Warnings: smoking, swearing, +18 SMUT not very descriptive sex but it’s there, allutions to prostitution.

A/N: This is the lovechild of: me being angsty, listening to Lalaland’s soundtrack, and rereading a novella I wrote a long time ago about an escort girl that I was planning to rewrite (I thought that it could be an interesting Javi’s fic, but I don’t know). So to conclude: a mess, voilá! bear in mind, there’s mention of sexwork and we respect sexworkers in this house.

Sorry for any mistakes and bad grammar!!

Fools who dream

She turns and faces the camera, they make a dramatic zoom on her while the orquestra rises in a beautiful romantic crescendo. With pink parted lips she smiles at the protagonist, her eyes glow and shyly she lowers her gaze.

Back to the male lead he’s looking at her like there’s nobody else in the room, the camera blurs everything except his face and hers. Love, romance.

The movie was not really interesting until the moment she appeared. Same old story about a guy in search of that perfect girl, his life is miserable; making him fall into very comedic and not very surprising adventures and misfortunes on a very normal life up until she appears and then she shows him the meaning of life and live life to the fullest or some bullshit.

Javi didn’t pay a ticket for a good story, fuck he didn’t even read the plot before buying it. But he saw the sign while he was waiting at the traffic light, the local drive-in cinema and its yellow lights against the night presenting:

The right one (or something like that) starring some guy and then her name.

So he drove in and asked for a ticket, probably looking a bit weird being just a guy alone buying just one ticket to a romantic comedy surrounded by couples. It looks fucking sad, Peña he thought. But he has to see her, he has to see if it is true.

“Hi”

she says on the screen and it takes him away from his thoughts. Hearing that voice again after many years hits him so differently. To think that those sweet lips moaned and called his name pressed against his skin, so close that he can almost feel the heat of her body on him in his cold lonely car.

The guy smiles at her and makes a fool of himself gaining a sweet giggle from her. And it reminds him of the times she danced in his apartment or made fun of him for being such a grump.

Deja de fruncir el ceño, Javi, que se te va a quedar así (Stop frowning, Javi, or it’s gonna stay like that) she used to say, brushing her index finger over her nose giggling just like now in the movie.

She said something back, but he’s not listening. Javier just puts the words he remembers she said to him on her lips. A fantasy within a fantasy.

What is more real? those intimate moments years ago or him watching her on a movie alone in his car?

He has lost the plot, but who cares? She laughs and pushes the protagonist's hand to the empty streets of New York and the lights shine on them, and as the world perfectly bends to lovers in movies, it starts raining and she receives the drops with open arms and a wide grin. And they kiss, a perfect one, soft lips over the other. Nothing like the kisses they shared

Their kisses were hungry, knowing that they were borrowed and paid in time, rushed sometimes, others slowly and messy pouring all the heat and the pain and the adrenaline in which he lived in those years.

Now he wishes he could have kissed her once last time, just like that, softly, the world far away from them. Perfect just like a movie.

The audience claps rejoicing in this celebration of love, some young couples are celebrating love in some different kind of way, the movie merely an excuse to have some time alone under the stars.

And Javier is suddenly aware of his loneliness of the empty space by his side, he’s the antonym of what he’s seeing on screen, of having the luck of finding the one and being delighted in love.

He could’ve been in love, once. He certainly felt something growing and shattering the hard shield he had on his chest when they were together.

And now watching her mimic those feelings, those desires, he feels jealous, of what? he doesn’t know, it’s not like they had a chance...did they?

Colombia, 1984

“You’re going to laugh” you say the fan above your head blows waves of hot air that still smell of sex and the cigarette Javi’s smoking languidly over the window.

He has barely put his jeans on, the zip and top button undone. He looks tired, the dark circles under his eyes are way more visible today than ever. You can even see the weight on his shoulders, he’s hunching, his neck curved down as he smokes.

He doesn’t say but you know there’s something bothering him, he’s quieter than usual, rougher.

He called you late in the evening, paid a taxi to get you to his house and you barely made it to the door when he grabbed you by your hips and pressed his body against yours. The kiss was ardent, his tongue invading your mouth in a mix of coffee, whiskey and smoke and need. You tried to push him and talk, just maybe say hello how was your day but he whimpered, he’s dark eyes pleading while he caressed your cheeks. And you let him, you know what he needed so you said nothing when he impatiently fisted your skirt up your navel and pushed your panties to the side so he could bury himself in you.

Covered in the dim lights of the scarce traffic in the middle of the night, silent apart from the rhythmic thumps of your hips hitting the door and both of your whispers and moans, Javier performed his usual rite of expelling his demons away on you. Each thrust, each second he was in you, the world became nothing, just white noise, there was only you and the primal need of achieving pleasure skin against skin.

Your soft voice, those sweet lips gasping brushing against his ear, he thinks it’s the only time he likes to hear his name being called or actually being aware of himself. With you there’s no Javier running to and from monsters and there’s no brutality or violence.

There’s only your soft hands locked on his neck, fingers curled in his hair and when you smile at him, eyes up the sky, lost in pleasure, he feels good and the world seems a little bit better.

“I even didn’t offer some water before…” he said after he recovers his breath still inside you

“I’ve never had a warmer welcome in my life, Javi, it’s alright” you laugh with legs trembling

“Still” he kissed your wrists and held you close, walking slowly towards the bedroom.

You barely made some small talk before his eyes grew darker, lost in something that chokes him, and he quietly covers you with his big body

“I just need to make love to you...please” he said with his forehead on yours. And here you are, body exhausted and numb, cooling the sweat with the sweet waves of air from the fan.

“I won’t laugh at you” he answers resuming the conversation, you were lost in your thoughts but when you look at him, you see he watches you intently and you believe him

“I mean it’s so cliche how I ended up doing this...it’s ridiculous” you shake your head

None of your clients has ever asked you about how you ended up doing this. None of them are really interested in you anyway, they prefer a fantasy, a character. But not Javi, and that scares you. He sees right through you.

“I wanted to get out of my small town, I had big dreams, big plans” you smile “I came to the city and I tried and tried to succeed but...well, long story short, a friend proposed it once and the money was too tempting”

“What did you want to do in the first place?” Javi approaches the bed. His skin shines against the moonlight, his disheveled hair makes him looks younger

“Now you’re going to really laugh” you cover your face with one of his pillows

“C’mon tell me” he smirks squeezing your tight

“I wanted to be an actress, do novelas, films, everything” you shyly confess. For a moment, you don’t look at him, expecting him to chuckle at your stupid little dream, but seconds pass and he doesn’t

“ I think you could do it” Javi’s hands draw small circle over you hip bones

“You think?” you bite your lip

“I do” he shifts position, resting his back on the bed and you open your legs so he can rest his head over your belly “Would you send me a dedicated picture once you made it?” you brush his hair out of his face and you see he’s smiling

“Of course, To my very first fan, who always believed in me” you wave your hand over the imaginary paper “And a kiss just under it”

“Would frame it and put it in my office...nah” he shakes his head “I put it right here” he motions towards the nightstand “I don’t want my colleagues greasy hands over my picture”you laugh out loud at his comment

“Sure, so you can dream about me” you joke stealing his cigarette and smoking a long drag

Present day

You don’t know how many times he has dreamt about you.

How many times that stupid movie has played in his house late at night, he bought it, foolish at it may seem, he has rewatch every frame, stopping to admire you.

You look happy now, your sweet eyes shine more and he’s happy, really is, that you have made it, but deep down, he wonders, as much as it makes he’s heart ache, Do you think about him? surely you don’t.

Probably you left that part of your life buried somewhere in Colombia. You changed your name, your past, everything, how could you think about him?

You’re probably living your best life, full of glamour, opportunities opening just in front of your eyes. How could you remember him?

You don’t (surely) so he has to content himself with the fiction. He replays that scene where you turn to the camera, smiling

and just for a second, he thinks, he dreams, it’s for him.

#writer wednesday #javier peña fanfic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x you #javier peña x f! reader #javier peña fic #javier peña #javier peña smut #Javier Pena #Javier Pena fanfic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal characters fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #Narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

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retvenkos · 3 years

Text

romantic at heart | m.

Legend of Korra - Mako x Reader, fluff

tw: none

word count: 4.6k

A/N: canon? who needs her? certainly not this fic. korrasami deserved to be canon earlier so i vaguely mentioned it, and mako and bolin’s apartment is the perfect setting don’t @ me.

Summary: Mako has always had bad luck when it comes to love, but with (Y/n), things feel easy. So why, then, is it so hard to admit it?

the three times he didn’t say it, and the one time he did.

one;

“I’m telling you guys, this is going to be great! Part Four is my favorite in The Adventures of Nuktuk: Hero of the South!”

Mako shared an amused look with (Y/n) as Bolin led the way into the darkened theater, holding open the door for the group to enter. Asami and Korra passed hand in hand, and when (Y/n) walked past Bolin, they tossed a piece of popcorn at him and Bolin caught it in his mouth.

Mako brought up the rear of the group, and as they walked up to find their seats, he whispered, “How many parts are there, Bo?”

“Seven! And the Finale’s great, don’t get me wrong, but it just doesn’t have the heart that part four does.”

“That’s just because he kisses Ginger,” (Y/n) leaned in and whispered to Mako, earning an incredulous “hey!” from Bolin.

“How’d that work out, by the way?” Asami turned to the earthbender with what sounded like genuine curiosity and Bolin chuckled nervously.

“Ah, well, you know, the hearts of mover stars are fickle, so we didn’t last long… there was something about it being a publicity stunt, but that didn’t make much sense, so…”

“Well it’s her loss,” Korra elbowed Bolin in the side with a smile and he forced a chuckle.

“She doesn’t deserve you, Bo.”

“Yeah, you’re a great mover star.”

A few people in the theater shushed them, and the group settled down into their chairs, just moments before the lights dimmed further and the mover started. The disembodied voice of Varrick boomed through the speakers with a recap of the previous 3 parts of the daring adventure, and everyone fell silent, slowly getting sucked into the mover before them.

Ever since their debut, the Nuktuk movies were a success - a staple of Republic City culture - getting replayed in theatres again and again. After learning that Mako hadn’t seen Nuktuk in its entirety, Bolin called for a state of emergency and got the whole group together so they could schedule a time for a complete rewatch of the seven-part masterpiece.

Mako had been planning to make some excuse - a series of cases that Beifong put him up to, or a slew of paperwork that some higher-paid coworkers pawned off onto him. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to miss something for work, and it wouldn’t be the first attempt at lying to get out of a viewing party. Just three months ago he narrowly avoided a showing of Love amongst the Dragons by faking sickness and saying that Beifong told him to sleep all day so he could be back at work the next. Everyone but Bolin believed him, and Bolin (who didn’t want to see it either but promised Asami he would go) let it slide.

After that, Bolin was better at guessing when Mako was lying, and whenever he needed Mako’s compliance, he set (Y/n) up to the task of cajoling Mako to come along.

So far, their track record had been impeccable.

(Y/n) chuckled at something they saw on screen, and Mako turned to them. “How many cases of Vari-dye do you think Varrick sold after that product placement?” They gestured to the screen where the once blonde Ginger flagrantly mentioned her hair dye product before becoming a, well… ginger. The script was somehow able to loosely tie the product placement into the plot, but the moment earned a couple of well-earned laughs throughout the theater.

“Millions, most likely. Aren’t these movers big in Ba Sing Se?”

“As comedies,” (Y/n) muttered, leaning in, clearly trying to keep their voice down so Bolin didn’t hear. The theater around them was dark and silent, but the light reflected in (Y/n)’s eyes was full of life and mirth. Mako found himself unable to look away.

He cleared his throat, “You do have to give it to Nuktuk and his comedic timing.”

“And Juji’s heart-wrenching death and subsequent resurrection.”

Mako found himself chuckling at their lame joke, and for once, he didn’t mind. (Y/n) smiled triumphantly, as though they had accomplished something truly grand, and angled their bag of popcorn towards Mako. He took some and popped a piece in his mouth, his laughter still dying on his lips.

“Varrick must be quite the director, to get you to laugh in a totally serious, not-a-comedy mover.”

“Varrick?” and there was just enough suggestion in Mako’s words to say all that he couldn’t, though why he couldn’t seem to get anything else out, he didn’t know.

Things were always easy with (Y/n); their smiles were soft and infectious, their tactics in getting him to open up were effortless and effective, and falling in love with them had been the most simple and uncomplicated thing in this world. It should have been with such ease that Mako told them that it was them that got him into the theater and their corny comments that made him burn inside, like a thousand dying comets that took the form of shooting stars.

But for some reason, he was stuck.

Unsurprising, really, Mako had never really had luck when it came to love and even friendship. There was always something complicating things; there were always two sides of him, fighting the other for reasons even he couldn’t fathom. Eventually, one of them would lose. Eventually, something would give.

But until that eventuality…

“I suppose I am quite the comedian. Should I write a screenplay?” (Y/n) was speaking, but something in their demeanor was different - a little stunned - like they hadn’t considered something before and it was only now dawning on them, slowly, but comfortably. Easy. “It would have to be a sequel to Nuktuk, of course. Maybe I can introduce the grumpy, mysterious fire-bender who he’s now forced to share a quest with?”

(Y/n) nudged him in the shoulder, already rolling their eyes at their own idea. Mako looked down, suddenly interested in picking the perfect piece of popcorn. “Yeah. If you’re making it, why not?”

(Y/n) snorted and turned back to the film.

two;

Taking the steps to his apartment two at a time, Mako fished for his keys in the pocket of his pants. Walking the beat had the potential to be more trouble than it was worth, and often Mako found himself at the gym at the end of the day, taking out his frustration the way he used to - pro-bending. Well, not so much pro-bending, anymore, seeing as they disbanded the Fire Ferrets, and dissolved the team, but it was the same training, nonetheless, and Mako had been a pro-bender so long that oftentimes, nothing felt more comfortable than the gym.

As he walked down the hall to his door - second on the right, Bolin had insisted - Mako could hear the sounds of laughter and the beeping of the oven. Despite himself, he smiled, breathing in deeply as he fiddled with the lock and opened the door.

Inside the tiny apartment, (Y/n) and Bolin were working side by side, leaning over the oven as they looked at the baked goods that lay within. The counters were a mess of cluttered ingredients and mismatched bake wear, Pabu had tracked flour across the carpet, and by every measure it was chaotic, but Mako simply leaned against the doorframe, speaking just loud enough to be heard. “Stress baking, again? Y’know, I’m really starting to regret giving you a key.”

"This was all Bolin, actually.” (Y/n) pulled the baking sheet out of the oven and set it down before turning to Mako with their usual countenance. “He told me to come over - he bought a set of mixing bowls and everything.”

“He didn’t buy more counter space?”

“Hey!” Bolin called incredulously through a mouth full of baked goods. Pabu scuttled beneath him, eating the crumbs that fell to the floor. “Counters wouldn’t fit.”

“It’s alright Bo,” (Y/n) nudged his arm with their shoulder, turning back to the task at hand. They used an old spatula to take their masterpiece off of the pan, and Bolin took two from them.

“You have to try this batch, Mako, (Y/n)’s gotten really good at their green tea cookies.”

“Oh?”

Mako shut the door behind him and walked over to the couch. (Y/n) met him halfway with their signature, light green cookie, Mako took it with an appreciative smile. “The secret is in the matcha. I wasn’t putting in enough before, so they didn’t taste right.”

Mako broke off a bit of the cookie, making sure to get a bit that had a white chocolate chip in it, and savored the taste. (Y/n) was watching him with one of their expectant smiles, and he nodded his head, the bittersweet flavor still lingering in his mouth. “These are your best yet.”

“High praise, coming from you.” And there was an edge of sarcasm to their voice, but their eyes were bright. Mako just looked at them for a moment, really looked at them in all of their casual beauty. (Y/n) had moved into his life so early on and so slowly that Mako didn’t know what life would be like without their casual teasing and easy grins.

And, of course, their random (but not unwelcome) bouts of stress baking.

Mako must have been staring a bit too long, because (Y/n) raised a playful eyebrow, and not too long after, Bolin broke the silence. “Uh, Pabu and I have to go, and uh... y’know, do adult stuff, with uh....”

“With Korra?” (Y/n) supplied amusedly, turning to Bolin, who was stuffing a napkin with cookies hurriedly.

“Yeah! Y’know, Avatar stuff...” Bolin shrugged, slipping out the door, only to open it up again and grab his shoes before shoving off again.

(Y/n) scoffed and Mako sighed, calling after him. “Real smooth, Bo!”

A muffled response called out to them, and (Y/n) laughed, walking back over to the kitchen area, where they started to put together another batch of cookies, measuring the sugar with their hands and putting it into a bowl with butter. “I’m surprised you haven’t been kicked out from noise complaints.”

Yeah, well Bolin charmed our neighbors into liking us too much to see us go.”

“His charm does go far, doesn’t it?” Mako watched and (Y/n) moved through his apartment with ease, pulling spoons out of the drawers and cleaning the dishes as they went. Their practiced movements had the surety and preciseness of someone who lived there, and the thought was enough to make Mako’s throat dry.

“So,” Mako cleared his throat and walked over to (Y/n) passing them the egg they were reaching for. “you measure everything with your hands, and yet you’re constantly insisting that baking is a science. How does that work?”

“It’s all in the weight and look of it - a full cup is a far cry from a fourth.” (Y/n) mixed the ingredients together, their brow set in concentration, “Or, at least, that’s what my mom used to say. What I will tell you—” they looked up at Mako rather suddenly, that intensity still alight within them “—is that it’s in how it feels.”

“So the weight of it.”

“Yes... but it’s more than that.” (Y/n) looked at him with their sharp eyes, as though trying to judge something. “Go wash your hands,” and they jerked their head to the side, “I’ll show you.”

Mako didn’t even hesitate to do as they said, and even though Bolin had left, he could hear his voice - a surprised “what...?” - nagging the back of his mind. It was easy to shrug off. It was (Y/n). Everything was easy when it came to them.

“Alright,” (Y/n) said, with a hint of childish excitement, as Mako slung the towel he had used to dry his hands over his shoulder. “Give me your hands.”

Their touch tickled and their fingers - dry and powdery from the flour - grazed over his, opening his palms with a gentle sort of care.

“Here is one cup or so.” (Y/n) grabbed a handful of flour, transferred it to their other hand, and skimmed some off the top before placing it in his. “Yeah, you can feel the weight, and you can see how much there is, but you have to kind of trust that what you're feeling is right, because it’s not always going to feel the same, right? When you’re tired or you’ve been baking all day, things feel different, even though they’re the same.”

“All this for flour?”

“For each cup of flour. We need two and a half.”

“I can see why Bolin asks you to do the baking.” (Y/n) chuckled and guided his hands to the mixing bowl, where Mako let the flour slip out of his fingertips like really fine sand. “But I can tell that you feel it...” the last bit of flour fell out of his hands, but Mako let his hands hover near (Y/n)’s for just a moment longer, “and that’s good enough.”

They smiled, and it has all the serenity and beauty of dawn. “I’ll make a baker of you, yet.” They added more flour to the bowl and started mixing, their gaze flicking up to Mako. “One of these days you’re going to understand the feeling of it.”

“I...” and part of Mako wanted to say that he already did, that his feelings were about the only thing he understood when it came to moments like these, but the words got caught in his throat, and he found himself unable to get them out. “I think we’ll have to do a lot more baking, then.”

three;

Mako ran, the ground beneath his feet steady and his breathing exact. The beauty of Republic City Park surrounded him and in the early morning, when the air was just nippy enough to need a jacket, there were few people to be found. The usual groups of people practicing tai chi or playing Pai Sho weren’t out yet, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon.

Morning runs often gave Mako a sense of clarity - there was very little he could focus on when in fast, forward motion, and everything complicated fell away. It was just him, the ground, and the fire in his veins.

Mako slowed to a jog, and when he found an empty park bench, he sat down, wiping the sweat off of his brow. The shadows were just starting to creep away, losing to the brilliance of the sun and hiding in each recess and tiny alcove. The duck pond in front of him was warming to a crystal-like blue. Mako breathed out and tipped his head back, letting the stillness wash over him, his thoughts slowly catching up with him.

“Mako?”

And at first, he thought it was just his feelings for (Y/n) meeting up with him once more, but then he heard the steady pounding of the pavement and there they were jogging toward him, ushering in the morning with a comfortable pace.

“Heading into work later than usual?” They stopped by the bench and Mako slid over so they’d have room to sit.

“No, Beifong told me to take a day off. I usually do paperwork today, but she handed it off to someone else.”

(Y/n) hummed in acknowledgement. “So you’re joining Asami and me for our run, then?”

"Huh?”

“Asami and I usually go on a run, at this time. We meet here.”

“Asami told me that I should take a run since I wasn’t going into work today.”

Both of them scoffed, relaxing deeper into the metal bench. For a moment they just sat there, taking in the moment, and letting the world dawn on them, a beautiful mixture of colors - a painting slowly completing itself. Eventually, (Y/n) turned to Mako, an eyebrow raised in jest. “Do you reckon they think they’re being slick?”

“Probably - and it’ll only get worse once they get Korra on board.”

“Who’s to say they haven’t already?” The two chuckled, shaking their heads at the efforts of their friends, and (Y/n) knocked their knees together, leaning in a little closer. “It’s alright, I like spending time with you.”

“You’re gonna hate me once we finish this run, though.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to buy me some tea, afterwards.” (Y/n) stood up, stretching their arms and letting out a yawn. “To make it up to me, of course.”

Mako stifled a smile and stood, making a show of his weary sigh. “Alright” —(Y/n) rolled their eyes at him— “You drive a hard bargain.”

They started off at a slow jog, and every minute or so Mako upped the intensity until they were sprinting across Republic City Park, occasionally dodging the wayward soul taking a morning stroll. The world blurred around them, the lush foliage turning into swaths of green with the occasional pinprick of color - purple or yellow, green or blue. As they slowed down, the world became more defined, and when they came to a walk, (Y/n) pulled ahead and turned around so they could walk backwards, facing Mako with a breathless grin.

“You owe me at least a muffin to go along with that tea, after what you just pulled. I almost ran into a woman walking her toddler! Could you imagine what would have happened, had I hit her?”

Mako laughed, still coming down from his high, and (Y/n) grinned at the sound - dazzling and so bright, it put the sun to shame. “Let’s get you out of the park, then, before you start running down Pai Sho players.”

The two fell into step beside each other, taking the path out of the park and into the busy streets. Already, Republic City was booming with life, and the two were rather quick to slip into the quiet tea shop that was just around the corner. Inside, the cafe was fairly empty, with slow music playing from the speakers. (Y/n) closed their eyes and breathed in the smell of freshly-baked muffins, and Mako was quick to look away when they caught him staring.

(Y/n) walked towards the case that held all of the baked goods, trying to read the different types they had displayed. “This is way better than trying to throw something together at my apartment.”

Mako pulled his attention away from the menu board, where he had been searching for the right type of tea. “Your apartment? You mean you actually have a place to go, other than mine?”

“You gave me the key.”

“For emergencies.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “Well, ‘emergencies’ is in clear need of a mutual definition.”

The two ordered, and Mako paid, despite (Y/n) saying they had the money, and when their order was ready, they took a seat in the corner, next to a window that overlooked a busy intersection. (Y/n) insisted they split the muffin and gave half to Mako, and after settling into their more calm atmosphere, (Y/n) turned to Mako.

“So, what are you going to do for the rest of your day off?” (Y/n) took a sip of their tea and fixed Mako with one of those stares - the kind that saw through everything else, and somehow got down to his core. “I can’t imagine this is what you had planned.”

“Uh… I don’t know. I figured I’d go home and work on finding a lead to a case or something.”

“Even though Beifong told you to take the day off?”

“Well, I’m not at the station…” Mako trailed off, suddenly finding great interest in the rim of his cup.

“And you’re not going to work from home, either.” (Y/n) scoffed exaggeratedly, and though Mako was the most incorrigible person they’d ever met. Although, in their defense, he probably was. “Not on my watch.”

“So what, you’re going to find something for me to do all day?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Mako watched as (Y/n) sat back in the booth, a triumphant yet challenging smile on their face, and he felt the disbelief in his chest melt into something softer. It was there, again, that urge to say something both incredibly brave and terribly stupid; that desire to put all of his feelings into words and express them more truly than anything else.

“Alright,” Mako swallowed and allowed himself a small smile. “If that’s what it takes.

✧ *:･ﾟ

one;

Just when Mako had admitted to (Y/n) that he was an avid reader, he couldn’t remember, but at some point, they had found out, and ever since, the two spent their lazy weekends sprawled out on his sky blue sofa, books in hand. This time, (Y/n) had come earlier than usual, and by midday, they had already finished their novel - a fast-paced murder mystery with just a bit of a redemption arc for one of the main leads. They had talked about (Y/n)’s book while walking down to the market to get the necessary fixings for dinner, and when they came back to Mako’s tiny apartment, he passed them one of his favorites to read - a historical fiction that combined elements of notable legends and recorded history to make an interesting thriller with plenty of easy-to-digest drama.

When (Y/n) took it from him, they took one look at the summary and raised an eyebrow. “This is one of your favorites?” Mako had tried to push down his embarrassment, stuttering out some kind of response, but had just smiled. “It’s not a bad thing, just surprising. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

And they did. For the next hour and a half, the two sat in Mako’s apartment in relative silence, reading separate novels and making the occasional exclamation of shock, betrayal, joy, and surprise. Mako had looked over at (Y/n) occasionally, trying to judge where they were in the book, and whether they were enjoying it just as much as he had, the first time.

At some point in the day, the sun filtering through the window matured into a deeper, golden shade, turning the afternoon into early evening. Mako, who had been thoroughly engrossed in his novel for the better part of the day, stood up from his couch and stretched when he noticed the change in light. Letting out a sigh, he made his way over to the kitchen area. As he started to make dinner for the both of them, Mako missed the way that (Y/n) turned to look at him from their place on the couch, a lopsided grin on their face. They still lay on the turquoise material, sitting upside down with their feet in the air, book in hand and the red couch cushion resting on their stomach, watching as Mako turned on the stove with a click of propane and a bit of fire bending.

It wasn't long before the apartment was full of the comforting smell of Mako's cooking, and soon (Y/n) found it impossible to focus on the page before them. They opted to right themself instead and watch Mako as he finished up, adding the finishing touches to the meal before splitting what lay in the pan into two different bowls.

He handed a bowl to (Y/n) as he settled onto the couch, both of them moving to sit cross-legged, their knees touching. (Y/n) savored the flavor of Mako's signature dish, and he gestured to the book beside them.

"How're you liking it so far?"

"The book? It's great. Perfectly paced, in my opinion, although I wouldn't mind for a little bit more world-building. The time period is so interesting and they could lean into it a little more."

Mako nodded, satisfied with the smile on their face and the eagerness in their tone. "I figured you'd like it. There's a lot happening, but the characters are good enough to carry the story."

"That's a raving review, coming from you." (Y/n) laughed, the sound falling from their lips effortlessly. "And I can see why it's your favorite. You like a good redemption arc, don't you?"

"It's an interesting enough idea."

"A rather sweet one, too. Are you sure you're not a romantic at heart?"

Mako scoffed in response, but even so, he could feel his cheeks burning up, the nagging voice in his head (the one that told him to just confess already, or do something equally as rash) getting louder from conviction. "I think that's you."

"Oh definitely, but there's always room for one more," (Y/n) mumbled through a mouth full of noodles. "And judging by your taste in books, I'd say you already are."

"There's not even a romantic subplot!"

"The main character literally took lightning to the face for his best friend, and then proceeded to say that he’d do it all again, if it meant they could stay together. Are you telling me there isn't something there?"

“You said yourself that they’re friends!”

“C’mon, Mako,” (Y/n) deadpanned, setting aside their dinner so that they could use their hands to punctuate their speech. There was a fire in their eyes, and something restless in the way they moved - like there was something important they were trying to say. “Friendship is clearly just an excuse for them.”

“An excuse?” Mako felt his throat dry. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of their proximity, and the little space that still existed between them - like they were almost touching, and yet oceans apart.

(Y/n)’s hands fidgeted in their lap. “Yeah, like… An easy out when you’re too afraid to go for it...or when you think you’re not enough.” Part of Mako wanted to look away, but (Y/n)’s eyes had caught his gaze too fully and the other part of him battled to stay. For the longest moment, he couldn’t move. “But they love each other - you can see it.”

There was a battle waging war inside Mako; each side fighting the other for dominance, and only one coming out on top. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost like a deep sigh. “Yeah, they love each other.”

(Y/n) smiled, their mouth moving with just the slightest tremble, and part of Mako wondered what had disrupted the ease with which they did everything, but another part of him already knew. Mako reached out and cupped their cheek, the feeling of their skin against his flooding him with courage he didn’t know he had.

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

“About time you confessed to me.” (Y/n)’s eyes sparkled in jest before they surged forward, kissing Mako and igniting the fire in his chest. All he could think about was them and the way they blissfully invaded all of his senses, how soft their lips were, and how strong their hands were, as they wrapped around him, pulling him nearer. When they broke apart, (Y/n) rested their forehead on his.

Then they said it, their voice a whisper that sent him tumbling over the edge, their breath fanning against his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

Mako kissed them again, craving the feeling of their lips against his, chasing after the way they made him feel - like every moment had led to this, like every battle had been worth the struggle. Time seemed to stop, and for a moment, it was as though there was no gravity, and the only thing anchoring Mako to this world was (Y/n), and their touch.

“Like I said,” (Y/n) was smiling when he pulled away, and their gaze made it easy to come back down to earth. “You’re a romantic at heart.”

Mako chuckled and (Y/n) laughed with him, the sound filling the tiny apartment with something undefined but utterly perfect.

“Alright, so maybe I am.” Mako relented, tipping his head back. “But an epic romance doesn’t happen within that book, if that’s what you're after.”

“Well, maybe we’ll have to write a sequel of our own."

-- taglist: message me if you want to be added to a taglist!

#legend of korra #lok #the legend of korra #tlok #mako #mako tlok #mako lok #mako x reader #mako x you #mako imagine #lok imagine #legend of korra fanfic #legend of korra imagine #fluff #reader insert #atla #gender neutral reader #and yeah you can measure flour and stuff with your hands i do it all the time don't @ me

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firelxdykatara · 3 years

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Re: your excellent recent metas on stanning Mako and semi-comparing/contrasting him with Katara, do you think Mako should have ever gotten his own TSR-style arc of seeking revenge on his parents’ killer? It’s something I’ve been thinking about ever since re-entering the ATLA/LOK fandom last year. Just, UGH, the wasted potential to use such an arc to really dig into Mako’s psyche and all the hardship he’s endured, and also make said hardship more front-and-center to his audience of antis who unfairly reduce him to a standoffish, philandering asshole. I understand not wanting to re-do TSR in LOK, but Mako deserved SOMETHING of that calibur for a character arc. What are your thoughts?

Oooooh this is a really good question, and it's something I hadn't really thought of before--which, I think, is part of the issue with LoK as a whole. If you'll forgive a bit of a tangent--in atla, we are constantly reminded about the losses that Sokka and Katara have suffered--not in any kind of heavy-handed way (no matter how much the Katara haters will whine about her mentioning their mother, even though they usually won't say boo about Sokka despite him mentioning their father at least as often)--because the narrative makes it very clear that it's something on their minds through everything else that happens. It shapes who they are, and informs a lot of the decisions they make. You can see this with Zuko, too, and the abuse he suffered from his father--even before it is revealed in The Storm, you know that something happened, and that maybe it's not such a great thing that he is desperate to 'regain' his honor and return home. And even Aang, though he only rarely is shown to actually grapple with it on screen, is a constant reminder to the world, as well as to the audience, of the consequences of the war, simply by virtue of being an airbender and the last living remnant of the Air Nomads.

By contrast, LoK doesn't do much with the traumas any of the main cast suffered, particularly not anything that happened prior to the start of the series. Mako has a deeply emotional conversation early on in the show about what happened to his parents, and what he witnessed as a small child, but nothing is ever made of this information. It provides a bit of context, and it allows fans like me who are dissatisfied with the way the show and fandom proceeded to treat him to dig deep and realize just how much he suffered and how much better he deserved--but as far as the show itself is concerned, that conversation was essentially flavortext. It doesn't mean much, the show doesn't seem interested in having Mako or Bolin reflect on their lives or even be shown to visibly mourn their parents (who never show up in so much as a single flashback). Even when they meet their paternal grandmother in book 3, nothing much is made of the connection (and when Bolin has to forcibly evacuate Yin from Ba Sing Se, she makes him wait for her to grab..... the picture of the dead Earth Queen, rather than the picture of her son and his family), other than Yin telling them why their father severed connection with his family and Mako choosing to give her his one memento of his parents.

And like... I get that was meant to be an emotional moment, but... his father chose to cut off all contact with his family. Whatever the reasons might have been, whether he might have changed his mind had he lived, the fact was that what he wanted from his life was to look to the future--to his wife (who he never bothered taking home to meet his parents) and to his children. I really don't think he would have wanted his mother to have his scarf instead of his son--especially not when she had memories of his entire life (adult memories!) to hold onto, while Mako only had the hazy memories of childhood and one physical token to cling to when those might not be enough.

Bolin is glad to suddenly have a huge family, when they meet their grandmother, but again... nothing really comes of this. At some point Bolin mentions that he used to dig through literal garbage for food, and this is played for laughs rather than taken as any kind of serious examination of his life before things changed. The show just doesn't care about the krew as individual characters, not really--they are moved about as needed for the Plot, jokes are occasionally made about their backgrounds, sometimes something is pulled out for an emotional tearjerker moment before never being referenced again (I mean, really, Grandma Yin is around for multiple episodes in book 3 and book 4, and neither Mako nor Bolin spend an episode just begging to hear about their father's childhood?), and... that's about it.

All of which is a very long-winded way of saying yes, I absolutely think that Mako should've gotten his own TSR-like episode. Obviously it shouldn't have been just a carbon-copy, or even necessarily occupy a similar niche in the show--while TSR is very much a Katara episode, it is also a Zuko and Katara episode, because whether you ship them or not, the episode is explicitly about not only Katara gaining closure for here mother's murder, but also about Katara working through her feelings regarding Zuko and choosing to forgive him. However, I absolutely believe that Mako should have been given a chance to confront his parents' murderer, and I think it's a crying shame that this never actually happened.

And the thing is, they wouldn't have even had to 'redo' TSR, any more than you consider Mako as a character to be a 'redo' of Katara just because they have similar childhood traumas--but what they very easily could have done is shown how that trauma lingers. Show Mako's complicated relationship with firebending (he really has no thoughts about his own element, when it is what killed his parents???) and with the Triads that he had to do work for to make ends meet as a teenager so that he could keep Bolin fed. Maybe he knows exactly which of the Triads was responsible for his parents' death--maybe the man's face is burned into his mind, appearing in his own nightmares so frequently he couldn't forget it if he tried.

Maybe he had to do a job for the man who killed his parents, and only the thought of Bolin going hungry or worse if Mako never came home kept him from attacking. Maybe that night, when he got home, after he made sure Bolin had something to eat and went to sleep, he threw up until there was nothing left in his stomach and then he kept retching, throat raw and eyes stinging, because every time he closed his eyes he saw that man's face and felt the hand that killed his parents clapping him on the back for a job well done.

Maybe the man who killed his parents is one of Amon's Triad victims, loses his bending and is pathetic and weak, and Mako struggles against the urge to roast him alive without a second thought. Maybe Korra is there, slowly putting the pieces together, wanting to speak up but knowing that this is Mako's pain and it's something she could never fully understand, believing with all her heart that he'll make the right choice... but still sighing with relief when Mako's shoulders slump, the fire goes out of his hands, and the man who killed his parents runs away.

Maybe, at the end of the book when she is restoring everyone's powers, the man who killed Mako's parents gets to the head of the line... and she refuses. Maybe that's ultimately his punishment. And maybe Mako is standing there, fists clenched against the still-simmering rage in his gut, teeth clenched against the urge to vomit, relaxing only when the man leaves--dejected, rejected and powerless--and smiling, because he can finally begin to heal and move on from the scars left behind by his parents' deaths, but the man who killed them will have to remember every single day for the rest of his life exactly why he's powerless.

Idk, I just think... it would really be neat if Mako had been allowed to get closure for what happened to his parents. It would be... neat. I'm not crying at all shut up.

#atla #lok #mako #mako meta #mako getting his own 'version' of tsr would honestly have been so good though #long post #devildogdemon #asked #lok critical

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the-sole-macgyver · 3 years

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Can i request a companions react where Sole has a pet goose that doesn't like them (the companion) and will chase them around but Sole just finds it hilarious? Bonus points if a companion gets treed by the goose

Nice prompt, the games really fun- real geese not so much

Prompt:It’s a lovely morning in the Commonwealth, and Sole has a horrible goose

Excluded companions:None

Note: if there are any characters, ie: faction leaders or let’s say synth!Codsworth that anyone would like to be included please feel free to ask!

Warnings:shenanigans of the fowl kind, swearing, threats of violence, goose-typical violence under cut

Cait:She’s always thought that the Swans..clothing of choice was a bit dainty looking for such a fucking big and nasty behemoth of a super mutant, but after meeting “Morrigan” she’s pretty sure the Swans getup was spot on, because Sole’s bird was also a big nasty bastard that would kill anyone who came near it if it could. She threatens to cook it whenever it trys to chase her and Sole generally has too keep them separated because they're fairly sure Cait will go through with it if given the opportunity. Both Cait and the goose are instantly hostile when they see each other.

Codsworth: He’s known of “Beatrix” since before the bombs fell, and he’s not ashamed to admit he’d wished the bird had went up in flames like the rest of the world around him. Alas; someway, somehow, Beatrix stood before him alongside his beloved sir/ma'am once more: all pristine white feathers and seething rage aimed at the goose his chrome paint still faintly reflected back at it, his thrusters still vaguely emulating hissing, and as the beast known as Beatrix reared back, mouth open and screeching Codsworth once again resigned himself to being pecked and screamed at, while his beloved sir/ma’am laughed, cruelly. Whenever he sees the wretched thing make its way back to Sanctuary he tries to make sure he’s on the other side of the settlement.

Curie:She’d never met a real goose before Sole found her and at this point she kind of wished that she never had met the bird, or at least if she had never taken that blood sample- because apparently geese held grudges for life, and they can live for over 20 years. She had only wanted to help the animal, testing its blood to make sure the radiation wasn't effecting it too badly, but apparently it wanted its blood back and if it couldn’t get it back it would take hers- Sole insisted she was fine, but seeing that thing charge at her was quite intimidating, and so she had no plans on going near it ever again, thank you very much. If she does accidentally cross its path she dashes to the nearest building and locks the door until it leaves.

Deacon: When Sole had told him that he couldn't buy the love of the funny, waddly pre-war bird they called a goose with Sugar Bombs he didn’t believe them, after all, it seemed pretty tame. That was his first mistake, and also what landed him half way up a tree in Sanctuary of all places, dangling just out of reach from the Hell Bird with the call of a bomb siren and a mouth full of teeth, screaming for Sole to rescue him but all the traitor was doing was laughing. He’s stuck up a tree above the jaws of death and they're laughing at him. Later he tries approaching it with different methods and in different disguises- unfortunately they never work, Sole says it recognizes his shades, he says it’s an Institute spy out for him and only him. It’s a silly, running joke they have, which, incidentally, he feels like whenever the animal decides to give chase.

Dogmeat:He does not like Soles other animal. It doesn't chase him but it does hiss and go to peck him when he scampers past it. Sole will chuckle and give him reassuring head pats, which are very good- but that thing is no friend and he wont be tricked into believing it is.

John Hancock: He’s reclining on his couch in his State House when Soles resident attack bird decides to go in for the kill. It charges, he panics and grabs it by the neck before it can reach his face and do anymore damage, now hes got an arm full of evil and a Vault dweller laughing their ass off in the doorway, he’d probably laugh too- except the birds stronger than it looks and he’s kinda struggling not to be mauled or resort to stabbing his good friends beloved, if malevolent, pet. When sole finally wrangles the devil off of him he starts to notice the neighborhood watch give the creature a wide berth whenever it waddles its way into town. In fact the only person it seams to tolerate other than Sole is Fahrenheit, surprisingly.

Nick Valentine: He vaugly remembers what a Goose is- old Nick used to prefer them over Turkey for Christmas- and he can understand why his appearance might freak the pampered pre-war creature out, but did it really have to attack him every damn time it saw him? He’d think the lousy thing had a vendetta against him, except it did that to everyone who dared cross its path, he’ll never admit out loud that he got a kick out of seeing it terrorize Myrna- loudly smacking the chained cans around with its beak, unfurling its wings and hissing whenever she tired shooing it away. Later he’ll question Sole about why- out of all the possible pre-war animals they could have picked from- why did they have to chose a goose?

Danse: Seeing a fully grown man in full power armor try to run away from a 3kg bird on the war path was the highlight of Sole’s week, seeing him fall over a melon patch- the same one the bird was apparently guarding- in his mad dash for freedom almost had Sole pass out from laughing so hard, when they finally gather themselves enough to assist the paladin he’s red from embarrassment and doesn’t talk to them until the bird is removed from his immediate vicinity, and even then it takes an hour to get a word out of him, he requests that Sole keep their “feral animal” away from the Prydwen, least it knocks someone off the railing or worse- attack Elder Maxson.

Piper: She’d been threatened, she’d been poisoned, she’d experienced attempts on her life and reputation since becoming a reporter. But nothing rattled her quiet like Sole’s relic of an animal companion, its weird elongated neck, those beady soulless eyes, the fact that it could apparently smell fear because it honed in on her like a missile whenever it was in range- it was always a mad dash to put anything or anyone between her and it, soles laughing never helped one bit. She writes a small article on the dangers of owning poultry out of spite and outright refuses to let Nat near it.

Preston:He’d forever be grateful to Sole for all they had done for the Minutemen and the Commonwealth, and if that meant he had to face “Guinevere” from time to time than so be it- this is what he tells himself, what really happens is he usually sees the bird before it sees him and starts running in the opposite direction, unfortunately his sudden movements usually catch said birds attention and it gives chase, hissing as it gains on him like some sort of demon, when it inevitably catches up to him it usually takes him to the ground where he loses his hat, if it doesn't manage to take him down he’s learned that it can’t climb (but it can swim, the water is not a safe place), and there are many trees around Sanctuary, one of which he usually ends up in, waiting for the thing to loose interest and leave (preferably permanently), this is a common occurrence, so common that he has to frequently change his patrol route, because if he doesn't the bird ends up figuring it out and waits in ambush for him, he’d honestly rather deal with raiders.

MacCready: When he first meets the bird he bends down to greet it, as is custom with other small domestic animals. Unfortunately Soles evil, horrible pet takes it as a threat and then goes for his eyes. He screams, flailing back. It fucking hisses. All trust in new animals is lost that day, and now he has more than just the Gunners to look out for, because the “goose” always seems to have its sights set on him. He walks on eggshells around the bird and, even though Sole says it only attacks him because it sees his tension as a threat, he can’t bring himself to let his guard down around it. Ever. He swears that it looks at him funny, like it’s plotting something, probably his untimely death.

Strong: He threatens to stomp on it when it hisses at him, his threatening stance only serves to enrage the creature more. It earns his respect, he has never seen anything channel the amount of rage this tiny monster does, he doesn't understand why Sole finds it so amusing that he and the screaming ball of hate get along so “well”.

X6-88:When he first sees “Dolorous” he has to wonder if the Institute had created the thing, when Sole tells him that it was frozen alongside them and their family he can’t help but wonder why a bird of all things was allowed a place in a vault over a potential human, and when he finally meets Soles pet he thinks he understands why they decided to put it on ice- to keep it locked away from the outside world where it couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. He uses the Institute’s standard non-lethal defensive tactics, but still ends up with a face full of feathers and ears full of Sole’s obnoxious laughter- he did manage to throw the bird off a roof once, only to find out that despite its size it could fly really really well, Sole didn’t talk to him for a week after that and he’s sure in that week the bird kept shooting him smug looks. Sole’s not allowed to bring it into the Institute.

Ada: She just kind of idles there unsure of what to do whenever the goose decides to attack her, at least it doesn't do any damage and it wears itself out eventually, she doesn't know why Sole finds it so funny. Shes tried offering it scrap as a truce but so far nothing has prevailed, the goose still attacks.

Old Longfellow:He’s seen some messed up things in the fog in his time, it does things to creature and people- takes the fear right out of them and replaces it with something hungry and manic, but, somehow Sole’s pet bird manages to put that lost fear right back in them, it’s call carrying better in the dense air than most others, giving it a booming eerie quality that has the likes of wolves and trappers scampering away, those that are brave enough to investigate are blindsided by a pure white bird that blends so well into the fog that you can barely see it in front of you- all of these qualities he’d be grateful for, makes his job a lot easier, he just wished the thing would stop attacking his legs every time he talked, Sole says its because the fog has it tense and all the new things has it wound up, but he thinks it’s just an asshole.

Porter Gage: He threatens to shoot the thing and Sole threatens to punch his teeth in if he did. So now he’s stuck with another animal themed lunatic, except this one really is an animal and it’s only a lunatic around him, as it seems to love the shit out of Sole. He hates that fucking bird. When the Overboss isn’t looking he glares at the bird and he swears it glares right back but that might just be his own bias on how much he does not like the animal, no matter how loud Mason sings its praises- out of fear he bets.

Addendum:I do not have a beta reader and I am dyslexic, I do proof read everything but am bound to make mistakes- and I would like to apologise in advance for any I have missed.

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neovisioned · 4 years

Text

♡ꜜ lipstick stain﹫jaemin na

she looks so perfect - 5 seconds of summer

pairing : jaemin x reader (f)

genre : smut with little plot, roommate!jaemin, college!au.

warnings : solo masturbation.

word count : +2,5k

synopsis : you leave lip stick stains on your roommate Jaemin’s skin before leaving for the night and he can’t help himself and his hidden feelings. or : “your lipstick stain is a work of art, i got your name tattooed in an arrow heart.”

“Y/N, what are you doing ?”, Jaemin wonders out loud, a small laugh coming out of his lips after taking your expression in. Resting the controller of his PlayStation 4 on his thigh, covered by his light grey sweatpants, your roommate lets his eyes wonder up to you as his game loads on the screen of your shared television. From his spot on the couch of your apartment, he was watching you carefully tap your index on your lower lip, before examining your fingertip with a bit too much curiosity.

“I need to see if my lipstick is going to stay through the night, Jaems.”, you explain like it’s obvious, eyes still on your reflection in the entrance’s mirror. Tapping once again your finger on your bottom lip, you slowly check the makeup you flawlessly applied to your features moments prior. You were going out tonight. Any other night, you would probably go out with your beloved roommate but, you were seeing old high school friends. A reunion organized by teachers you barely kept in contact with and, you unfortunately wouldn’t bring the pink haired man with you. You have to say, you wish you could have him with you. The dress you’re wearing hugs your body, your makeup is flawless if it is not for the said lipstick. You know your presence alone will be able to take some people’s breaths away just like it took your roommate’s. But, having Jaemin with you would’ve sealed the deal. Maybe it was a bit childish, wanting to make people jealous. Can you blame yourself ? You were the first to gush over your roommate’s looks and melt at his sweet and gentleman-like personality. Let’s say he isn’t helping you at all at this very moment, legs spread wide, he isn’t wearing a shirt, abdomen on full display.

“Is that the one you got last week ?”, asks the tallest, eyes quickly going back from his game to your figure. The theme song of The Last of Us Part Two plays in the background, the young man’s eyes get stuck on your exposed neck for a bit too long. Brushing your hair with one hand, you use the other to apply some perfume to the base of your neck. Jaemin has to say, you look good every day of the week, every hour of the day. You look ravishing when you two go out every now and then but, it’s clear you decided to make a lot more today. He couldn’t complain, having a roommate like this but God, he wishes he could come with you at this reunion, make sure everyone understands you’re bound to be his. You hum at his question, unaware of his racing thoughts, remembering the day you dragged him to some makeup store, right after getting your paycheck. Fortunately, he didn’t complain, or maybe you just didn’t listen to his desperate sighs. Regardless, he helped you pick a color, he thought would go well with you after some minutes of thinking in front of the large display.

“Why don’t you just do the thing you do with your hand.”, he asks gesturing to the top of his hand. You and Jaemin decided to live together at the beginning of university and, after some years, he caught on to some things. Like how you had the habit of placing your lips on the back of your hand to check if any product would transfer on your skin. He had a good point, you would. But, you were too lazy to wash your hand after, your nails were freshly painted and you were running late.

“Ugh, I’m too lazy to wash my hand after. We’re also out of tissues.”, you sigh, eyebrows raised. Jaemin was the one who finished the roll and didn’t even think about buying a new one. Looking at the watch adoring your wrist, you quietly smack your lips together, hoping the lipstick wouldn’t leave a mark on the cups and straws at the reunion. You had a…weird hatred for lipstick stains. Jaemin laughs a bit at your antics, leaving his controller on the side. Getting up, he doesn’t hesitate to stand right next to you. Extremely underdressed, he pushes your shoulder with his, checking his own appearance in the mirror. The pink haired man loves annoying you a little bit every now and then.

For a split second, you look over at your friend in the mirror. “We’d look good together”, you think to yourself but, you have to brush the thought away in a flash. See, for the past months, you stopped seeing Jaemin as a friend. And you hated it. You hated how whenever the two of you would cuddle in front of a movie, you’d wish he wouldn’t let go of the embrace to walk to his own, separate room. You started hating the way he’d sing while doing the dishes and while taking a shower. You wanted more and yet, couldn’t see yourself bring the subject up.

“Do it here, we’ll see if it leaves a stain.”, your roommate proposes, taking you out of your thoughts. His finger points at his slightly rounded cheek. Worst thing is, it isn’t the first time that the pink haired allowed you to test your lipsticks on him, he probably knew you were dying to test this one on him too. It happened one time where you were on a rush for work, no tissues or anything else to place your lips on and take the excess product out. Jaemin didn’t mind having a stain as he didn’t have class this morning, he could wash off properly right after and, he gained the guinea pig title. You don’t think twice, grabbing your roommate’s chin between your fingers. Under your touch, Jaemin faces you, angelic face too close to your own. He doesn’t seem to mind either, innocently blinking. There’s a small sigh coming from your lips, one Jaemin doesn’t bring up, like you can’t believe you’re doing this to your crush. You’ve faced it, the growing feeling, blooming butterflies whenever the man would look down at you, whenever he’d smile at one of your jokes. Your lips quickly find his cheek in a loud kiss, a dramatic “mwah” to dedramatize. They trail down without you understanding or processing your actions, placing your lips on his jaw and right under the sharp bone as he willingly tilts his head.

“Oh, that’s a lot...!”, you notice out loud, brushing your actions off, eyebrows furrowed. A mark of your lips was clearly visible of his cheek, another one on the sharp jawline, and the last one in the middle of his neck. Faded, sure, but still clearly visible. “I’m taking it with me, will probably have to do some touch ups, y’know.”, you mumble quickly, grabbing the lipstick before throwing it in your purse. Get out, quick. Jaemin’s eyes are glued on the mirror, not daring to look at you. Pupils blowing a little wider, they expend a bit more at each new stain discovered. His lips are dry, he noticed. Poking his pink tongue out to wet his bottom lip, he slowly parts them, a feeling he knows too well growing in his stomach.

Biting softly on his chest, he nods as he hears you saying something about time and some teacher you’re excited to see. The pink haired doesn’t pay attention, a finger coming to touch the stain on his neck, cheek growing the same color as his locks. Why was he so…turned on by such a simple thing ? Was it the stains, or you ? Probably both ? The marks, proofs of your lips on his skin, he wonders what they’d look like lower, lower. His pants grow tighter, the poor thing has to move to the side and hopefully hide the print on the grey fabric. The heat travels down to his chest, coloring the smooth skin there. His breath gets caught in his throat for a second and he has to clear it to hide the fact, wrapping his wondering hand around his upper arm. It’s aching to wrap around his growing length, release the tension growing, but his line of thoughts gets cut by the loud sound of the front door closing behind him. He didn’t even hear you saying good bye, he doesn’t even know when you’re coming back but all of this, are second thoughts.

His breath grows uneven as he looks around the now empty apartment. When the thought finally registers in this foggy brain, he quickly walks towards his room, the theme song of his game still playing. He doesn’t care to close his door, leaving it slightly open. He can not believe he’s already semi-hard, the young man will never understand the affect you have on him. His mind, his body, it all reacts too quickly to anything you do. From the way you make playlists for his showers and manage to always bend down for the washing machine just at the right moment for him to see by the opened door of the kitchen. Sitting on the edge of his bed, the mattress sinks down under his weight, Jaemin faces the mirror installed right in front of him. Giving him a full view of his body, Jaemin leans back on his hand, his free one wondering on the smooth skin of his chest. With the huge mirror, it was even better. He could clearly see the three marks along his cheek and neck, the last one almost looking like a fading hickey. Oh, how his imagination could wonder so far, so quickly. The young man’s mouth falls slightly agape at how good the color looks on his skin, contrasting with his epiderma. Veiny hand goes down to his bulge, feeling his semi length through the fabric of his pants. His digits wrap around the base, sighing as he teased himself like he knows you’d do too. Lips reddened by his relentless biting, glittering with a coat of saliva, Jaemin’s hand grabs his sheet as the other sneaked beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. Finally giving himself some skin to skin contact he was craving for, though he wishes it was someone else’s. A sigh of relief leaves the pink haired’s lips when he feel his rough hand wrapping around his base, tinted lock falling in front of his dark eyes. His dick feels heavy in his hand, a vein pumping at the side. Ever so slowly, his hand moves up, and down. Drawing the pleasure out, his thumb wipes the small pearl of precum threatening to fall. He uses it for smoother movements, lewd sounds echoing in his room. Mind blurred, focused on the ounce of pleasure he was giving himself, he tilts his head to the side. Jaemin was trying his hardest not to close his eyes, he wanted to see the marks and his skin. He was feeding off of them, letting the most perverted side of his brain make whatever he could up in his daze. A pleased sigh leaves his lips the moment he fully pumps his shaft up and down. They grow faster, pleasure taking over his body, sweat gathering at his hairline and soon enough, he was pushing the hem of his pants down. Entirely exposing himself, his imagination was out of control. He wasn’t picturing his hand, rather yours. Petite compared to his, wrapping around his thick shaft, Jaemin wondered what you’d look like, on your knees in front of him. He knows you’d let your tongue drag up his length just like when you catch a drop of melted ice cream. A grown leaves his lips when he vividly pictures your mouth around him and deep down he knows, he knows you’d beg him to fuck you in front of this very mirror. The sound of skin fills the room, rhythmically. Alongside, his sighs grow deeper and deeper, turning into groans and desperate moans. Jaemin doesn’t care to hide them, all alone in his bedroom. He tries his best to remember the feeling of your lips on his skin, picturing them kissing his neck, down his torso, and his hand pumps faster. Maybe your lipstick would leave a few rings around his shaft, a deep moan coming from his chest at the thought, his eyes screwing shut. “God.”, he whines, his hips bucking against his hand. A gasp leaves his lips as his lips his hips fuck his fist. He pictures you again, seeing you in that dress, how the silky fabric hugs deliciously hugs your body. Wishing he could take it off, he’d probably let the fragile fabric rip under his hands, Jaemin couldn’t help himself when it came to you. He wonders, what does you skin would feel like under his fingers, he knows you’d react in the most hypnotizing way to his teases, he knows he can make you cry his name out if you’d let him. His lip gets caught between his pearly teeth again, drawing blood. The iron taste lingers on his tongue, fighting with the newly made fantasy of your arousal coating his tongue. God, he wishes you didn’t leave, his hand moving faster and faster, chasing his high desperately. “Y/N, fuck.”, it leaves his lips without thinking, he doesn’t care to understand the meaning behind the desperate moan. The blurry image of your body underneath his clouds his mind, made up moans of his name, picturing just how you’d babble because of his cock. God, he wants to hear you moaning, whining, begging. Even better, not being able to form coherent sentence just because of him, coming around his cock because of his, for him. The pink haired loses track as he wonders, getting closer and closer to your climax. His Adam’s apple bobs against the skin of his throat, regular gasp leaving his lips as he mumbles incoherent phrases himself, because of you and, you aren’t even there. He knows he’s about to come, bucking his hips. Letting out a loud moan, his voice cracks towards the end in what sounds like your name, yet again. Jaemin comes in a few short moments, hand never stopping as he milks, giving himself too much pleasure. Zoned out, he pants, a familiar ringing blocking his hearing, some cum on the smooth, slightly red skin of his torso. Jaemin slowly opens his eyes, slightly regaining more coherent thoughts. Chest falling up and down at an irregular pace, he tries to catch his breath as best as he can, a small curse falling from his lip as his strong orgasm fades away. Damp colored hair in front of his eyes, Jaemin tries to comprehend everything, letting his body fall down on his bed. Closing his eyes, his veiny hands half of his face and he doesn’t even bother covering himself. Poor thing only now starts to calm down, hear clearly again. It’s weird, did he turn his game o-.

“Jaemin…? I forgot my wallet.”

His eyes shot open.

#neowritingsnet #NCT-WRITERS #na jaemin #jaemin smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct #nct dream #neovisioned

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karlajoyner · 3 years

Text

Stressed Out (Sunset Curve x Reader)

A/n: So starting off I've made a master list that I'm posting real soon for you all to access my stories without the scrolling. In order to post it I have to update my post about my requests/taglist and soon because I do get a lot on that comments that ask for more Charlie or more Owen and I wanna give you guys that but I also wanna make sure that I get through the requests that you guys send me with plots and storylines. It just makes it like a thousand times easier to have something to work off of. Opposed to me coming up with my own storylines that I have to do a lot of reading on my own to get my gears working! But again thank you guys for the comments! And finally I wanna say thank you for sending in your requests and your feed back. It is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: Alex is bi in this one not taking away from the fact that he's gay in the show it just runs best for this storyline! There is no Bobby btw! Haven’t written a foursome with 3 guys before so it might suck ass. And it’s not much but it’s something so enjoy my fellow fantoms!

Warnings: Smut (18+)

————

I internally groaned walking into school. I wasn't the worst student. But by far I certainly was not the best. Which is why I had a reputation since I first arrived to high school.

That and I was in a band with 3 of my best friends. Who all happened to be guys. Hot guys at that.

Which automatically made me the schools slut. It was fine with me but the boys didn't like the label.

No matter how true it was.

"Hey y/n heard you gave Mike Dawson a blowjob this weekend. Just when I thought you couldn't be anymore of a slut"

"Mind your fucking business Hayley" I heard a familiar voice speak up for me. A smirk spreading on my face as I felt an arm wrap around my shoulder.

"Did she come to you right after Patterson? What's it like to be her sloppy seconds?" Hayley Becker spoke with a wicked evil smirk plastered on her face.

"Fucking amazing actually. God the long nights we have. It's so great" I heard another familiar voice from my left. A large hand intertwining my fingers with theirs. She rolled her eyes clearly not expecting my boys to speak up for me. But then again neither was I.

"Slut"

"Skank"

"Whore"

"Bitch" I spoke as the bell rang.

"Just watch your back y/l/n" She said before turning around and walking away.

"She will!" Reggie shouted after the dark haired girl. The three of us expectantly looking at our bandmate.

"What? I didn't even get to tell her we would too" I sighed shaking my head at the boy.

"Thanks for sticking up for me guys but I can do that myself"

"We know. But your our girl. And apart of this band so we're kinda obligated" Alex spoke as the four of us walked to first period.

"Your really not"

"Come on y/n you know we're still gonna do it"

"I know and I only let you today cause I can't deal with that bitch at this time of day. I mean seriously it's 8:00 o'clock in the morning. Does she not have anything better to do than spread rumors about me?"

"Apparently not. So you and Jake Mills behind the church?" Reggie asked.

"Didn't happen considering I was with you idiots all weekend. You know your the only guys I touch" I bit my lip hearing the three of them chuckle.

"Yeah well it better stay that way. I don't wanna hear Trevor O'Connor bragging about banging you in the boys locker room again"

"Schools golden boy?" I questioned.

"He tried starting the rumor yesterday during p.e but we quickly shut it down" Reggie explained as I stopped a few feet away from the science room to continue talking.

"So Hayleys boyfriend wants to bang me? Wow"

"Yeah but don't even fucking thing about" Luke said pushing me up against the lockers beside us.

"I wasn't. Unless you guys piss me off" I grinned pushing him off of me. Opening the door a few feet away and walking in.

"Gentlemen. And Ms. y/l/n. Your late"

"Sorry Mrs. Daniels we had to deal with something"

"And did this something give you tardy passes"

"It did not"

"Detention. All of you"

"That's nothing new to them Mrs. Daniels"

"Shut the fuck up Hayley" I scoffed taking my seat beside Alex.

"Ladies stop it before I send you to the principal"

"Yes Mrs. Daniels" Hayley and I spoke in sync.

"I can't believe Luke dated her" I whispered towards Alex glaring at the blonde bimbo.

"Jealous?"

"Why would I be? I already have him. And I could have her boyfriend too if I wanted him" I said taking down the notes on the board.

"Mrs. Daniels I can't focus on the lesson because they're distracting me with their talking" Hayley spoke pointing an accusing finger at us.

"We are not!" I shouted sitting up.

"Yes you are probably talking about who your gonna whore around with next"

"Yeah it's your boyfriend if you don't check yourself Hayley"

"Trevor would never do that!"

"I'm pretty sure he would"

"Ladies principal office right now" I scoffed standing up.

"Wait!" Luke shouted standing up. Everyone's heads whipping toward him. He made his way over to me groping my left boob.

I scowled at how hard he squeezed glaring at him.

"Dickhead" I muttered.

"Mr. Patterson! You too principals office" We looked at the other two boys expectantly. Alex immediately rolling his eyes before standing up.

"We could do this the easy way or the hard way Mrs. Daniels"

"If she goes we go"

"I cannot send you two away for absolutely no reason Reginald" Mrs. Daniels spoke challenging the boys.

I close my eyes preparing myself for what came next. Alex was quick to slap my ass while Reggie pulled me in for a sweet kiss. Immediately earning gasps from my classmates.

"Now I can do it. Office all of you! And detention today after school!"

I groaned walking out of the principals office with my bandmates.

"Detention for 3 weeks. Seriously?"

"To make it worse we have to spend 2 of those with Hayley" I spoke seeing the blonde talking with Trevor just a few feet away. Being sure to send them a harsh glare, I finally turned back to the boys.

"Hey you'll be with us everything's gonna be fine" Reggie said throwing an arm around my shoulder leading me away to our next period. That we conveniently had together.

"No it won't. I also have to chaperone the stupid homecoming with Hayley" I cried wanting nothing more than for the day to be done for.

That afternoon we spent in detention not leaving until late afternoon. Due to the fact that my detention went on longer than the boys.

I walked into the studio behind Luke not really in the mood to practice.

"What's wrong y/n/n? You seem down" Reggie asked as I plopped back onto the couch.

"I'm just tired is all. And a little stressed out"

"But we've gotta practice baby, for our next gig. Sunset Curves so gonna rock that book club" Luke said picking up his six string. I watched as Alex and Reggie sent him a glare, the boy immediately putting it back down.

"Or we could take a day off" He spoke coming to sit to my left while Reggie was on my right.

"That sounds amazing" I mumbled feeling Alex begin to massage my shoulders from behind. I craned my neck allowing him more access. Now feeling a little more relaxed than before.

"So tell us y/n/n why are you stressed out?" Luke asked as I shut my eyes.

"Well for starters I'm so gonna get my ass beat when I get home" I sighed feeling Reggie begin to rub my arm to comfort me. Something he did often with how anxious I got.

"And there's just nothing I want to do more than run your ex girlfriend over with a bulldozer" I mumbled hearing a chuckle escape their lips.

"Sounds like a plan" Alex said as Luke intertwined our fingers.

"We'll make a day out of it. Just us four and a bulldozer" He joked making me giggle. The laugh got caught in my throat as I felt a soft kiss on the side of my neck.

"Seriously guys? Not today. No way" I spoke opening my eyes.

"We just wanna help you relax"

"That's what you said last time. I couldn't walk right for 2 days" I mumbled the last part.

"We'll be gentle" Reggie spoke.

"I know you will Reg. It's them I'm worried about" I spoke earning a pointed look from Alex.

"Okay Luke"

"Am I that rough?" He asked a frown forming on his face.

"Sometimes" I admitted feeling a little bad.

"Gee I'm sorry baby" Luke spoke kissing the back of my hand.

"It's okay. I like it when I'm in the mood" I said watching as Alex walked around the couch.

"Well then boys why don't we help our girl relax for today" Alex said bending down in front of me. I bit my lip as he spread my legs open feeling a slight breeze hit my covered core.

"Well there's no need for your skirt or these" Alex spoke toying with the waistbands of both my skirt and panties.

I shimmied out of them with ease leaving me exposed to my best friends like I'd been many times before.

"She just gets prettier every time"

"And wetter"

"Mind if I taste baby?" Luke asked. I nodded my head, watching as he dipped his long fingers in between my folds. Moaning as he pulled them back up to see them glistening with my cum.

"So good" He whispered putting them in his mouth.

"Okay I want a taste now" Alex said opening my legs a little wider.

"Guys. A little help" I huffed as Luke and Reggie hooked themselves on each of my thighs to keep me still.

"Please" I begged getting more turned on by the second. The blonde didn't hesitate to latch onto my core. A loud moan escaping my lips.

"Oh fuck" I struggled to keep still as he moved his tongue skillfully through my folds. Lapping it inside and out as moans fell from my lips.

I whimpered as Reggie slowly began to rub my clit making the pleasure intensify.

"Use y-you're f-fingers" I mustered out Alex obeying my request sticking two fingers in my wet pussy. Picking up the pace. My eyes screwed shut as a familiar feeling of bliss coursed through me.

"Look at me baby" Luke muttered turning my head to look at him with his free hand. I opened my eyes looking into his blue ones covered with complete lust.

He was quick to smash his lips onto mine as the other two worked on building up my orgasm. Which wasn't far at the pace Alex was working on me.

"Holy shit!" I panted pulling away and throwing my head back at the amazing sensation of my orgasm hitting.

"You squirted princess" Alex grinned wiping away the liquids dribbling down his chin. I giggled at his swollen pink lips placing a quick peck to them.

"What now baby?" Luke asked rubbing his hand on my thigh.

I looked at the three boys before discarding any remaining clothes I had left. Watching as their eyes raked me up and down like many times before.

"Reg can you just fuck me today. I really need gentle" I begged as his cheeks turned bright red whenever I asked him to do something. Whether it was sexual or not.

"Sure beautiful" He smiled lopsidedly pushing his lips onto mine.

I sighed in content as he pushed me down on the couch. My head landing on Luke's lap giving me a little leverage.

"She's something else" Alex spoke to no one in particular.

"Your telling me" Reggie panted pulling away to undo his belt and jeans. I bit my lip looking up at the boy with the blue eyes. Who no surprise had a smirk plastered on his face.

"Condom" I heard Alex say presumably to Reggie. But I was too entrance in Luke's gaze wanting to include him. Upon hearing a ripping of a package I glance back at the boy who was hovering above me.

"I can do something for you after if you want" I bit my lip speaking towards Luke.

"It's okay baby. It's about you today" He said moving his hand down from my collarbone to my boob.

Reggie and I moaned simultaneously as he slowly entered me. Immediately stretching me out.

"So tight" He muttered beginning to move at a steady pace.

A squeal escaping my lips as Luke pinched my nipples paying close attention to each of them. He'd always been a boob guy.

I pulled Reggie down towards me our lips meeting in the middle as his speed began to increase.

Then there they were again. Fingers were now rubbing circles on my clit presumably Alex's sending my body into pure ecstasy.

I moaned loudly into Reggies mouth as I felt myself my inner walls clench around him. Earning a groan from the bassist. His thrust becoming more sloppy.

"Shit. Shit. Oh fuck" He cursed as his orgasm hit. Mine coming seconds after.

"Holy fuck Reg" I panted coming down from my high.

"That was pretty fucking hot princess" Alex spoke as Reggie got off of me to go throw away the condom.

"I try" I joked sitting up. Luke immediately removing his muscle tee and handing it to me.

"You do know this isn't gonna cover much up right?" I questioned him putting it on anyway.

"Who said we wanted you to cover up baby" He said pulling me under his arm. I sighed contently placing my hands on his bare torso.

"Anyways Reg why don't you go run her a bath inside the house" Alex suggested throwing me my panties that had been thrown onto the lazy boy.

"Got it!" Reggie said coming over and placing a chaste kiss to my lips before running out of the garage.

"I get to clean her up in the shower. Called it" Luke said as Alex wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Just as long as I get to put her to bed"

"Guys I've orgasmed twice today give me a break"

"Are you feeling more relaxed princess?"

Alex asked grinning at me.

"Much. Now if we could do that consistently for the next 2 weeks then I might be able to get through detention with Hayley without ripping her head off" I spoke earning a laugh from the two boys. Both of them knowing well that I wasn't joking.

————

Up Next: Carrie Wilson x Reader

Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Alex x Male Reader

Luke Patterson x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

————

@lolychu @headheartbellarke @bookish0918 @kcd15 @ifilwtmfc @moviesbooksandfandoms @lovesanimals @lavender-writer @kaitieskidmore1 @morganayennefertyrell @iloveteenwolf @ghostofmgg

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creative-type · 3 years

Text

a still, small voice

AN: Wrote this in December when I was hit with some dark and angsties and never got around to posting here. Probably because I was annoyed that I’d forgotten pre-canon Thistle’s name would not be Thistle until after I’d finished and had to go back and edit the whole thing. Can also be found on ao3 if you prefer reading there

Violet didn’t know where she was going, but she ran anyway.

Bare feet pounded against the hard, frozen ground—there hadn’t been time to find her boots. Her shirt, half pulled over her head in a vain effort to hide her face. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes and her heart thudded in panicked rhythm.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. She was all wrong.

The only good thing was that it was dark, and her pursuers were human. With a new moon and an overcast sky, Violet was able to sprint across an open field into a thin strip of timber that acted as the boundary between one farm and the next before the mob could light its torches.

Of course, only monsters and beasts could see in the pitch black night. Even if one could look past the claws and teeth, her eyes were proof enough to show that she belonged in the shadows like some dark, creeping thing.

Violet tried to push the thought away as she gasped for breath, her back pressed against the trunk of a tree. She didn’t have to look to know it was elm, the life she felt under her clawed fingers muted in the winter cold. Even the trees had their chance to sleep. So why couldn’t she find rest?

And what have you done to earn such a luxury, you ungrateful brat?

Violet clutched her head with her hands, shrinking down as her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. She needed to think, needed to move. She was not safe here. She wasn’t safe anywhere, but it was especially true now. The farmer who owned the barn she’d spent the last week calling home would soon raise his neighbors. Depending on how much he hated her, he might even send a message to town. As she wiped the tears from her cheeks, Violet remembered that he’d had dogs.

Frigid air made the teartracks sting. There was no snow on the ground, but it was cold, and she’d left her shoes behind like an idiot. Without a good disguise or money she’d be forced to steal, proving once again her duplicitous, criminal nature.

But she could only do that if she lived through the night. Violet was terrified to leave the cover of the wood, but the sound of baying dogs made that choice for her.

Bending low, Violet whispered the spell that would hide her tracks and scent. Assuming the farmer and his friends didn’t have any spells of their own, it would confuse the dogs long enough for her to escape, provided that she didn’t leave behind any damning evidence. As Violet moved, branches and shrub brush instinctively pulled away, letting her pass without scratching her face or pulling at her clothes.

Too soon she was in the open again, the wind cutting through her layers. Violet didn’t dare call on her magic to warm herself—heat too often brought light, and she wasn’t practiced enough to call one without the other.

For a moment, helplessness almost swallowed her whole. Violet knew she needed shelter, but there was no safe place for her to go. Even the environment was hostile and unwelcoming, the magic of spring and growth unsuited for the barren fields and cold, unfeeling winter.

There was something almost ironic at the thought of dying of exposure to the elements after the exposure of her true nature, but Violet didn’t have time for morbid self-deprecation. She took the only path available—forward—crossing a plot of uncut pasture until she reached a small creek bed. It wasn’t quite cold enough for the water to freeze, and she followed its winding path until it ended in a small pond meant for cattle and horses.

The pond marked the end of Violet’s knowledge of the local countryside. Everything that lay behind was unknown, and therefore frightening. She paused a moment to listen, extending her magical senses.

Relief washed over Violet when she realized she was alone. That relief quickly turned into dread that settled like lead in the pit of her stomach.

There was no one she could count on but herself. And the voice whispering in the back of her mind made it very clear that she was not up to that task.

Swallowing hard, Violet ripped two pieces of cloth from her shirt to wrap around her feet and took her first step into the unknown. The nauseating buzz of apprehension and anxiety pushed her forward another step, and then another and another, until she was almost running. Violet’s lungs burned with the cold even as her face flushed hot, sweat rapidly cooling at her neck and temples.

She alternated walking with running to preserve energy. Every once in a while she would stop at a strip of timber, try to orient herself without the guidance of the moon or stars. A cave elf’s night vision wasn’t anything like how she saw during the day, and it didn’t take long for Violet to become disorientated. All she knew, all she could hope, was that she was getting away.

The fields blended with one another, some large harvested crop ground, others overgrown pasture for free range cattle. Packed dirt roads and humble homesteads were avoided like the plague, Violet moving as best she could away from any signs of civilization. Wind whispered through the grass and the trees, but beyond that was the silence of desolate emptiness. Exposed and in the open, Violet only became more aware of her own smallness.

But as the miles past and the first promise of sunrise pierced through the oppressive blackness of night, Violet knew she needed to stop. Thin cotton strips were poor protection for her aching, bleeding feet, and the cold that she’d once been able to force away was starting to seep into her bones. Everything felt heavy, from her eyelids, to her legs, to the effort it took to expand her lungs.

The acute jolt of energy that came with being discovered had long-been expelled, leaving a deeper, more primal fear that left her slow and jumpy. Hazy fog clouded the edges of her vision and thoughts dripped sluggishly from her mind like frozen syrup. Violet forced her aching knees up one, final hill, promising herself that once she reached the other side she would stop for the night.

Only that promise made her go forward, and she wasn’t sure she’d have the strength to set up adequate shelter after she made it that far, or lay the spells that would protect her before falling asleep. At that moment she didn’t particularly care. Anything for a blessed moment of rest.

Lazy, stupid, do you want to be found…

Violet huddled against herself as she crested the hill, unsure if she was trying to protect herself from the wind or the Echo whose voice was becoming increasingly difficult to discern from her own.

On the other side, the slope dipped gradually down to a narrow road that didn’t look like it had been used since Hym had been made a Wizard. The road, or lane, or path, or whatever it was, ended at a small, one-story building that had been white before the elements stripped it of the majority of its paint. The roof sagged inward, a young tree sprouting through the hole that might have once been a chimney.

The windows were thick with dust. From the road, no one could see in or out, and clearly no one had been inside in a long, long time.

It was the perfect hiding spot.

Violet took a moment to stare, unable to believe her own good fortune. She staggered forward, tired and hurting, not bothering to make sure that no one was coming from father up the road. Soft, predawn light edged at the horizon as Violet circled around looking for the entrance. A simple wooden door sat above two stone steps, settled under a faded sign that proclaimed the decrepit building to be Elk Chapel.

Tentatively Violet extended her magic, but there were no protections guarding the property. When she jiggled the handle it snapped in her hands, and after years of disuse the wood had swollen in the door jamb, making it stick shut.

Growling with frustration, Violet tried to shoulder it open, but it was no use. Angry tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as she slammed against the door with an almost childlike, impotent helplessness. It wasn’t fair! After all she’d gone through, all that stood between her and safety was a stupid door that wouldn’t open. It wasn’t fault she was a monster. She couldn’t help that no one would let her in. She tried and tried and tried so hard to be a good person, to help people, and it was never enough.

She would never be good enough.

Violet didn’t have the strength to keep trying. Overtired and overwrought, she pressed her forehead against the door and cried. There was nothing left for anything other than the outpouring of emotion, the surrender to all the grief and pain she often ignored in the name of survival. There at that abandoned chapel deep in a forgotten wood, Violet bore her soul, not caring who might see or hear.

“Please,” she sobbed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

A force stirred deep within her. Violet was familiar enough with her magic to know that whatever she felt, it didn’t come from her. Warmth spread through her body, embracing her with the comfort of an old, familiar blanket, or a pair of loving arms. Frightened and confused, she whipped her head around, but there was no one but the wind.

Violet was still alone when the echo of a memory whispered in the depths of her heart, mind, and soul,

Be not afraid.

Taking a half-step back, Violet pressed herself against the chapel door, willing herself to disappear. There was the groaning of wood, then a sharp crack that punctured through the peace of the morning like a rocket, and the door snapped from its hinges.

Violet stumbled backward and was unable to keep her balance before falling hard on her behind. Heart pounding she scurried as far backward as she could, but the feeling was gone, leaving only a deep, pulsing ache.

“I’m actually going insane,” Violet whispered. Without bothering to stand up, she craned her neck backward to see where the young sapling had managed to break free to the open sky. The musty smell of earth and forgotten things filled the single room of the chapel, both the walls and floor covered with hoarfrost.

As far as shelter went, Violet had had better. She’d also had much, much worse. She crawled the corner that seemed warmest and removed the wrappings from her feet, wincing as the dried blood pulled the scabs open anew.

How much had she left behind? Enough for the dogs to track her? Violet squeezed her eyes closed and tried to remember the spell that would seal the broken skin, letting her breath out in a low hiss as her magic knitted the tissue back together imperfectly. She’d need to study more, or at least not be stupid enough to leave her shoes behind when she ran.

With her feet taken care of, Violet finally turned to the matter of getting warm. Reluctantly, she left her sanctuary just long enough to find a good-sized rock and lug it back inside, before settling herself at the base of the tree. Oak, her mind uselessly supplied. As if the leaves and acorns at her feet hadn’t told her that much.

Violet laid her hands on the stone, trying to ignore the barbaric claws that extended past the edges of her fingers. Her hands shook with exhaustion as she tapped the last dregs of her endurance to call heat to the heart of the rock, enough that would last her the hours it would take her to recover from the night’s escapades.

Blue light flashed. Violet screeched in alarm and pulled her hands away, having succeeded a little too well at her spell. The stone glowed cherry red, instantly melting the frost at her feet and heating the room as well as any stove.

She let out a breath shaky with relief and buried her face in her arms. She wouldn’t cry again. Not for something as stupid as a little warmth.

As exhausted as she was, it took Violet longer than expected to drift asleep. The immediate need of shelter taken care of, she realized just how hungry and thirsty she was, and not knowing where she could find either food or water wound her tighter than a two copper watch. She was too tired to think of a plan for getting shoes and clothes and too confused by how she’d opened the door of the chapel to try to fight through her fatigue.

Probably a coincidence, Violet thought, the excuse unconvincing even in her own mind. Instinctively she reached for her bag and pulled out her journal—which she had managed to take with her—finding a stubby bit of pencil amongst the detritus of the bottom of her pack. She flipped to a familiar page, reading and rereading her entry about that night, eyes skimming the words she’d long-since memorized.

Be not afraid.

With everything that had happened, knowing the monster that she was, how could she not?

Sighing softly, Violet turned the page and scratched out another name. Maybe next time would be different. She tucked the journal away again and tried to get comfortable at the base of the tree. A cluster of acorns poked against her hip and side. Violet brushed most of them away, saving one to add to her growing seed collection.

Nearly sick with dread and exhaustion, Violet finally allowed herself to drift to sleep as the first rays of dawn crossed the horizon, the memory of a promise she still didn’t understand leading her to a deep and dreamless slumber.

#daughter of the lilies #daughter of the lilies fanfiction #thistle #someomes gotta answer those hard hitting questions #like where the heck thistle got the acorn she used to seal a pit to hell #today is reread your old fanfiction and realize it’s not as terrible as you thought day

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champagne-bucky · 4 years

Text

Rebel,Rebel

Summary: Peter doesn’t like a disobedient girl.

Warnings: Dark! Peter Parker (18+) x female reader, non-con/dub-con, knife play, face fucking, begging, humiliation kink, squirting, smut, fondling, hand job, anal play

Notes: Hehe, sooo this challenge is very very late and I’m very very sorry. I’d like to apologize to @mariessecretfantasies for being soooo late. Anyways I hope you enjoy this one!!

“WHAT YOU DID WAS INCREDIBLY STUPID. I CANNOT PUT INTO WORDS HOW CARELESS AND CHILDISH YOUR ACTIONS WERE! I SHOULD HAVE YOU SUSPENDED, NO-“

You tried your hardest to stop the growing smirk on your face as Fury yelled at you. You may or may not have almost killed yourself and others while executing a life or death mission. The key work here was almost.

Being a new recruit was no walk in the park. Other agents were constantly belittling your actions and questioning your position with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers, you showed them though. With every mission and every time you trained, you made sure to go above and beyond and prove every single one of those people wrong. As a result, a lot of agents became jealous and would do anything they could to ruin your credibility. Which brings you to Fury still yelling in your face.

It’s not like you were completely reckless, you made sure to carefully calculate everything you did so that you wouldn’t risk putting anyone in actual danger. Yes, that mission was technically very poorly executed, but it’s not your fault. Truthfully, the original plan would have cost people their lives if it wasn’t thanks to your quick thinking that saved everyone.

The only reason you were being yelled at instead of praised was because your incompetent teammates didn’t want to question the mission captain and think of a new plan. You were a hero, but those stubborn asses would never admit it.

“You really have me backed into a corner here, Agent,” Fury sighed as he rubbed his face.

“My desk is filled with complaints about your negligence to the team. Even your mission captain wants you suspended indefinitely,” you huffed.

“The only reason everyone complains about me is because they can’t be me. Everything they do, I do it ten times better than they could ever dream of. Even the lousy mission captain couldn’t think of a more brilliant plan than mine. You all should be thanking me really,” Fury raised his brows.

“Thanking you?”

“Yes, you should be thanking me because I’m the only competent one here willing to risk it all to save innocent people. Sorry you only hired people that were too afraid to get their hands dirty, what a sad sad team we have here,” Fury looked as if he wanted to chew your head off more, but for the sake of his already high blood pressure and an impending migraine, he decided against it.

“You know what I’m willing to do for you, Agent,” it didn’t take Fury long to come up with a plan.

“What, Nicholas,” you loved poking at his nerves. The vain in his forehead looked as if it were about to burst.

“I’m going to assign you to our Avengers program,” you gasped internally. The Avenger program? Does that mean-

“Don’t get it twisted. This program does not mean you’ll become an Avenger. This is a shadow program. You’ll be able to go on mission with your Avenger, go to their meetings, press conferences, you get the point,” you scoffed.

“And you’re doing all this for what?” Fury rolled his eyes.

“You may be able to get away with a lot of shit as an agent, but the Avengers are on a whole other level. One slip up and you're done. This program is gonna teach you just how we do things here at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Fury leaned over the desk to be eye level with you.

You thought about giving him more attitude, but you didn’t want to push your luck. Even though Fury wasn’t saying it, he was pretty much saying that this program could mean a spot on the Avengers, right? Finally, you were all that hard work was giving you the recognition you deserve.

“Alright, Fury, I’ll join your little program. So, who do I get. Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Agent Romanoff, someone who matches my intelligence and skill set?” You leaned back in your chair with a smug smirk. Fury matched yours.

“I believe a shadow program is well below their pay grade. I was thinking of assigning you to someone who was a little like yourself. I think Peter Parker would be the perfect match for you,” your eyes went wide in disbelief.

“Peter Parker? Him? Oh, Nick, you gotta be kidding me? He doesn’t even go on real missions! He just helps old ladies cross the street, scares punk teens from shoplifting, he’s not even a real Avenger!”

“Mr. Parker is way more qualified than being a neighborhood watchmen, Agent. He’s on the team because he is one of the best. You can learn a thing or two from him. He, very much like yourself, was a big rule breaker too, still is if you ask me. The only reason we haven’t kicked him off yet is because Tony Stark has a soft spot for the kid.”

You tried to argue your way out of being with Peter, but Fury insisted or you would be met with suspension. You grumbled and trudged your way out of his office. Fury mentioned before you left that Peter would be in contact with you shortly. You slammed the door before he got his last words out.

“And don’t forget, follow the rules or be faced with the consequences,” you mocked his words under your breath as you stormed back to the agent’s wing of the compound.

Peter couldn’t believe the phone call he had just gotten from Fury. More importantly he couldn’t believe who was going to be shadowing him. After all this time being in the Avengers program, no one ever wanted to pick him, but you, his crush, well his heart was just bursting at its seams.

“What’s gotten you all smiley, Spidey,” Sam took a seat next to him on the couch.

“N-Nothing, I just got off the phone with Director Fury, he says someone requested me for the shadow program,” Sam laughed.

“And that’s what’s making you get all blushing and giddy? Gee, you not getting enough attention at home?” Peter rolled his eyes at Sam.

“No, it’s, it’s just this girl that I’ve liked for some time. Apparently she wanted me to be her guide.”

“Who is she?” Once Peter said your name, Sam’s eyes lit up in fear.

“Aww no man, you don’t want to be messing around with her,” Peter’s face fell.

“Why not?”

“Well, rumor has it she’s kind of a rebel.”

“Kind of?”

“From what I hear from other agents, she’s always breaking protocol, almost always putting people in danger, risking lives, not a good look if you ask me. Come to think of it, why didn’t Fury deny her application?”

“Maybe he thinks I can be a good influence on her,” Peter smiled and nudged Sam’s arm.

“Pfft, when pigs fly,” Sam got up and walked away leaving Peter to write out an informative email to you.

“Just be careful with her is all I’m saying, kid.”

Peter ignored him as he pulled up his email and began to write to you.

Your alarm was blaring way too early in the morning for your liking. Peter insisted on starting everyday at 6 a.m. because “crime always starts early”, or something stupid like that. You two had only been with each other for a week and it was pure torture for you.

Peter on the other hand indulged in the time he got to spend with you. So far, Sam was being proven wrong about your rebel status. He always made sure you were to follow the book no matter how defiant the look in your eyes was becoming. Maybe you only followed the rules because of him, he’d like to think.

“Peterrrrrrr,” you whined.

“Whattttt,” he mimicked with a laugh.

“This shit is taking too long. Can’t we just-“

“Nope,” Peter interrupted.

“But-“

“Nada.”

“Peter-“

“I believe the correct word we are looking for is no,” you wanted to slap the stupid smirk off his face.

“Peter there is an easier way to do this,” you tried to reason with him, but he just wouldn’t listen.

“You mean there’s the wrong way to do this. I was given my instructions and now we will follow them, AS PLANNED OUT. If you don’t like how the Avengers run things, then maybe you should rethink your status in the program,” Peter stated as he kept his eyes locked on the bank.

This is what it’s been like for the entire week. You were starting to get agitated beyond belief by Peter’s smugness. What a cruel joke Fury decided to play on you. First, he makes Peter your partner, the most useless of all the Avengers when it came to missions and crime fighting. Next, his unwillingness to go off book for one measly second. If Peter could’ve known how much time he’d be saving by just bending the rules a little, he might be able to take on more serious tasks, unlike this stupid bank robbery tipoff he received earlier today.

Nevermind the other laundry list of reasons why you can’t stand Peter Parker and his dopey grin. Right now, you are thinking of good reasons why it would be impossible to get away with the murder of the most annoying person to ever walk the planet, in your opinion. While you were doing your own plotting, Peter was trying to keep his focus on the potential robbery and not the woman of his dreams next to him

The robbers made their move around 4 a.m. After countless hours of hearing Peter ramble on about Star Wars, chemistry, and his web fluid stuff you were thankful to end the night with some action. Peter made sure to take the lead while you were waiting at the back of the bank for a back up call. A stupid strategy, but supposedly Peter knew what was best and refused to go against orders.

Peter surprised the robbers by swinging himself down from the ceiling. There were four men trying to attack him and Peter fought every single one off without taking a breath. However, as things were going seemingly well they took a turn for the worst when one robber pulled out his gun and started to shoot. Peter faltered his steps and quickly dodged a bullet headed straight for his knee. During all this time you were watching from a small window, he still refused to call you for back up.

“Parker, you need my help, tap me in,” you said through your earpiece.

“No, no, uhh, I got it, thanks,” Peter responded quickly while dodging another bullet, this time to his shoulder.

“Parker, you're failing out there,” there was no response from Peter as he kept trying to tame the situation.

You huffed and decided to get to work. You really didn’t want to screw up your chances with this program, but you were left no choice. The line between Peter’s incompetence and stubbornness finally frayed and you just about had to butt in.

“I’m saving his life, I’m not breaking the rules… right?”

Peter was now tackled to the ground by two of the robbers. The one with the gun was reloading his bullets and the other was taking the money out of the machine. Somewhere along the line, they seemed to have damaged a part of his suit and he was bleeding out. That weakness alone was enough for the robbers to use all their strength and hold him down,

“It’s the end of the line for you, Spider-Man,” Peter started to freak out. Was it too late to call you?

“Hey boss, why don’t we see who’s under the mask,” one of the men holding him down said.

The “boss” agreed and began to walk his way towards Peter. He started to hyperventilate at the thought of not only his life ending, but his identity would be exposed.

The robber started to put his hands on the material of his mask, but not before he halted his actions and fell to the ground. Peter was stunned as were the rest of the men, but not for long.

“Hey, who’s that,” one man said as you came down from the ceiling where Peter had entered.

You have your few weapons at the ready and no time to waste. It had already been a long day and you were angry and exhausted. It took no time for you to wipe out the robbers and alert authorities of what went down. The men were hurt badly, but they should be okay, maybe.

Sirens were becoming louder as you quickly grabbed Peter and hauled him out of the back door and into the car. You whipped off his mask and started to check him for any injuries. When you went to touch a bruise on his face, he swatted your hand away.

“What did I tell you?” He said angrily.

“Peter I-“

“I said I would call you for backup and you defied me,” he pressed a button on his suit and it disappeared to his normal clothes.

“Peter you were choking out there! If I would’ve waited for your call you probably would’ve been dead by then! I saved your life, the least you could say is thank you,” you rolled your eyes and slumped back into your seat.

“Thank you? Y/N you blatantly went against my orders and did your own thing. Do you not have any respect for me?”

Your jaw dropped as Peter spoke those words. You cannot believe how irrational this boy was behaving. He was in trouble and you offered to help him.

“You know what Peter? No, no I don’t respect you. You were close to dying and I came in and saved your helpless ass. I have never met somebody so dimmwhitted, so stubborn, so incompetent, so STUPID, and so so SO annoying as you, Peter Parker. Come to think of it? How are you even an Avenger? Aren’t they supposed to have more than the one brain cell you seem to possess? Do they just let anybody be an Avenger or do we all have to suck up to Tony Stark just to get a spot on the team?”

“Get out,” Peter said through gritted teeth.

“What? Can’t handle the criticism?” You laughed as Peter slammed his hand on the center console, creating a dent.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT,” you were surprised at Peter’s tone of voice.

“Get out, get out of this car before you make me do something I’ll regret,” your eyes went wide as you got out of the car and started to run home.

Peter cried that night after he kicked you out of the car. Nobody, not even Mr. Stark talked to him the way you had. The girl he fantasized about each night had called him stupid, annoying, and possibly more hateful words in the English language synonymous to the ones she had said in the car.

Peter needed to take the weekend to himself to process everything. His heart was crushed and his emotions were conflicted. Even after all those terrible words, he still had some feelings for you. How could someone so perfect for him be so cruel to him at the same time?

He avoided everyone at the compound for the weekend. Usually he’d spend the few days there to work on some new tech with Mr. Stark or train with Bucky and Sam, but you lived there too and he couldn’t face you at the moment.

Peter was also screening calls from Fury. At the end of every mission with you, Fury would demand a status report. Peter would always have positive things to say about you, but this time he wouldn’t even know what to tell Fury.

After a movie with MJ and Ned to clear his head, Peter walked back home to the small apartment he shared with his Aunt May. He felt a little better after seeing some friends, but his heart still had a pang in it from your words. Was he really as annoying as you said he was?

Peter didn’t dwell on his thoughts for long before he felt himself getting pulled off the sidewalk and into a sleek black car. He tried to fight off whoever pulled him in, but he stopped struggling once he heard the ring of his cell phone.

“So, it does work,” Fury ended the call and scowled at Peter. “Any reason you haven’t been answering me?”

Peter took a deep gulp as he figured out what he was supposed to say. “Director Fury, I-”

“She finally cracked you,” he simply stated as Peter nodded in agreement.

“I didn’t know what to say because I’m afraid of how you’d react.”

“And what did she say?” Fury questioned.

When Peter told him the whole story from the robbery to her hateful words in the car, Fury just about had blown a fuse.

“SHE WHAT?” Fury expected the absolute worst from you, he’ll admit that, but blatantly insulting her superior crossed a huge line for him.

“Director Fury, I have it all-”

“No, Parker, I’m in the driver’s seat now. No more Mr. Nice Guy,” Fury called for the driver of his car to take off.

“Fury, please, just let me handle this,” it took a lot of convincing, but Fury came to an agreement with Peter.

“If you don’t get rid of her attitude and I find out that she continues to talk to you the way that she did, I’m terminating her position with S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Fury had no time for further discussion as he basically pushed Peter out of the car and sped out of Queens.

Oh, Peter was going to do all he could to make her obey him. It didn’t matter how he was going to train her, but when the time is right he’ll make his dreams come true. Peter was going to make his fantasies come true.

After about a week of no Peter Parker, the Avenger was back and surprisingly better than ever. He made no mention of the car incident and you didn’t want to bring it up either. In fact, Peter seemed to be his happy, normal self while the two of you trained together for an upcoming mission. He was cracking the same jokes and still rambling your ears off about the usual stuff. It shocked you to say the least, he held no ill will for you because of that night. Maybe he finally wised up and was starting to see things your way.

It seems as if lately Peter has become more lax with you. He didn’t get mad when you were just a little late for training sessions or when you would begin your back talk with him. It was as if Peter changed overnight into a completely chill person. Not that you minded at all, you would definitely be taking advantage of his easy going personality.

However, you did notice something in his eyes that you never seen before. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but it was almost like whenever you too got a little rough during training, he would enjoy it and try to push the limit. Maybe it was all a test to see how far your strength could go? Whatever it was, it kept you curious. Peter was acting different, but not too far off from his normal self.

“We have a mission tonight at the docks. Be ready at 10 and we can take turns being watch,” was all Peter said to you before he left the gym to go off with Mr. Stark.

You weren’t used to going on a mission so late. Peter always wanted to arrive at missions early just in case he was being fooled by a criminal. Of course, he always ended up being wrong and everything would happen later at night than in broad daylight (you tried telling him that and he simply waved you off).

You quickly rushed back to your room, slamming the door and triple checking that the locks were in place. The events from tonight’s mission left you speechless, shocked, horrified. Never in your life had you gotten out of a car and booked it to your room so fast. Peter Parker, Spider-Man, New York’s favorite defender, had done an unspeakable act.

It started out like always, just sitting in the car hiding out. Peter wasn’t talking as much so you decided you wouldn’t make conversation either. It was only until the criminals came to the docks where it all went downhill.

Peter told you the same thing he always had, he’ll call you if backup is needed. Of course, Peter found himself in hot water yet again and you decided to intervene. Only this time, you were met with more than just yelling and a kick out of the car.

“You didn’t listen,” the tone in Peter’s voice changed.

“Peter, c’mon now you were in trouble,” you began to speak, but he quickly cut you off.

“You didn’t listen, and now you’re gonna have to be punished,” Peter had a dangerous look in his eyes that scared you.

“Peter, if you’re gonna throw me out again I’ll save you the trouble and just leave. You know I don’t get why you have to be so stubborn all the damn time, if you just-,” as you were going to open the door, you heard the lock click.

“You didn’t listen, you need to be punished,” Peter began to lean closer to you as you pulled harder on the door.

“Peter, PETER,” you screamed as he put his hand on the front zipper of your top.

“Take this off,” you stayed still, “NOW!”

You rushed to take your top off and avoided the tears forming in your eyes. You fumbled with the zipper towards the bottom and Peter groaned impatiently. He grabbed the top and tore it off of you only leaving you in a bra.

You tried to look away from him and cover yourself in the process, but Peter wasn’t having any of that. He grabbed you by the chin with one hand as the other made its way to your chest. You tried to fight his intentions, but he wouldn’t have it.

“Stop moving. I’ll make this worse for you,” he grabbed your chin harder and you stopped trying to move.

He dipped his fingers into one of the cups and began to fondle your chest. Once Peter found your nipple, he circled it with the tip of his thumb. Peter was moaning as soon as it hardened. He never took his eyes off of you.

“Take off the bra,” Peter gave you a look that dared you to defy him. You quickly got rid of the bra and he took it and threw it in the back seat.

Peter was in awe, you were as beautiful as he imagined. Your bare chest and the tears in your eyes made him hard as a rock. He took his hand off your chin and began to palm himself through his suit.

Peter made his suit retract back into his regular clothing. He took your hands and placed them over the palm of his jeans. He pressed your hands down as you bit back a terrified whimper.

“Why don’t you help me out, yeah?” It wasn’t a suggestion judging by the look in his eyes.

You pulled down his zipper and didn’t go any further than that. Peter chuckled at you and brought your hand into the inside of his boxers. You couldn’t form any type of sounds as he made you hand travel through his patch of hair and up his cock. Peter was impressive, but there was no room for a pleasantly shocked emotion.

“Now take him out and finish what you started,” Peter pulled down his boxers and fully exposed himself to you.

You started off slow with a shaky rhythm. Who could ever be confident and cool in a situation like yours? Peter didn’t seem to like what you were doing and put his hand on top of yours. He guided you up and down his cock and took it off once he gave you a pace.

“Don’t be shy, go faster,” you picked up the pace as you saw Peter swipe some precum off his tip and shoved his finger into your mouth.

He didn’t even have to say anything to get you to start licking his fingers. You closed your eyes and Peter didn’t seem to stop you. The faster this was over with the faster you could finally be home.

After a fast few pumps, he was ready to come undone. He slowed you down and then demanded you picked up the pace. You were told to open your eyes and look at him, but you would close them again after a short few seconds. When he finally did cum, he brought your body close to his cock and let it all spill out on your chest. You felt disgusted, humiliated, and baffled that Spider-Man would take advantage of someone like you.

You opened your eyes once you heard the beep of a phone. Peter had his phone out and was taking a video of the whole thing. He took an additional few pictures and stashed his phone away in case you tried to grab it.

“You might want to clean yourself up, won’t take long to get back home,” Peter tucked himself away and started the car.

When you arrived at the compound you darted out of the car before he could say or do anything further to you. If he wanted to talk he would have to call you now.

You shed yourself of your clothes and began to scrub your body down. No matter how hot the water and how hard you scrubbed, the feeling of Peter on you will forever remain. You took a few showers once you thought the scent and act of Peter had washed off of you. When you left your bathroom it was well past 2 a.m.

Making sure the doors were locked for the hundredth time that night, you finally settled down into bed. You tossed and turned for the next hour until you heard your phone buzz. Not thinking anything of it, you picked it up to see who could be texting you so late at night. Your heart dropped once you saw the messages.

One after another Peter was sending you the videos and pictures that he had taken. Each one made your stomach turn more and more. He was mocking you.

Don’t ever disobey me again or I’ll send these out to everyone.

It took a lot to impress Nick Fury after everything he’s seen and been through. Alien invasions, aliens, cat aliens, raccoon aliens… a lot of aliens. However, nothing could’ve impressed him more than reading your progress report from Peter this morning. It took all of Fury not to frame the report and send emails to all of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents the news of this miracle.

It’s true, over the past weeks you’ve been ever so obedient to Peter. You didn’t move unless he told you to move, didn’t speak until given permission to, he had you right where he wanted you and you couldn’t do anything about it. Even if you thought of telling someone of his mannerisms towards you he would hold out his phone and get the file containing all those pictures ready in a “Send All” email.

Fortunately, Peter never touched you like that night again. True to his word, you would only be treated that way if you ever went against him again. Needless to say, you were walking on something sharper than egg shells. He would tease you spook you relentlessly, even going as far as locking the car door just to see you jump.

Even late at night he would spam your phone with obscene text messages just to taunt you. Sometimes he would send you photos of himself and when he asked for some in return, you had no choice but to give in. Day by day, this man was messing with you and you had no way of outing him.

Peter would be hot on your trail if he saw you making your way to Fury’s office. He would stop you before you could even get to his office corridor. Peter couldn’t have this getting out, his credibility would be ruined and Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers would see to it.

He wasn’t happy about what he did, but he didn’t feel a lot of guilt either. What he did that night in the car set something diabolical off in him. It felt good to take what he wanted right there and then. Peter couldn't help but be a little prideful about what he did. He even hinted to Sam a few times that something might’ve happened between you and him.

While he was gloating you were scheming your way into telling Fury what happened. You can’t go anywhere near the man without Peter right beside you, and you can’t call Fury because he never seems to answer his phone. In fact, Fury has been out of the office more and more lately, perhaps keeping up with the other Avengers or being involved with more aliens.

Regardless of what it was, the next time you saw Fury in person you would say something.

You finished off your makeup and were now putting on the expensive dress your fellow agents coaxed you into buying for the party tonight. The material was tight and it was a little hard to breathe, but you’d get through it. Your body was buzzing in anticipation and nerves as you checked your hair one more time before heading off to the gala.

Every year, the Stark x S.H.I.E.L.D. Gala was held to promote and spread awareness for local and international charities across the globe. You never had an interest in going before, but this year you were bugged by the other agents to go and Peter had expressed his interest in your presence at the party. If you didn’t show you were afraid of what he might pull in your absence.

The hotel was extravagant, from the way it was decorated to the mass amounts of people in their expensive suits and elegant gowns. You scanned the room for Peter, but saw no sign of him. He was either taking photos with the Avengers or watching you from afar, and you wouldn’t put it past him to do that.

While you didn’t see him you got to work finding Fury. You went through the humongous crowd of people just to see if you could catch a glimpse of him, you even started to ask around, but no one seemed to know where he could be. It felt like forever and you were beginning to lose hope that you would never find him. If anything was going to happen it had to be tonight.

A tap on your shoulder stopped you in your hectic search. You knew who it was just by the clear of his throat. You faced Peter with a nervous smile on your face as opposed to the devilish one on his.

“I‘ve been looking for you all night,” Peter drank in your appearance, “you look beautiful.”

You squirmed under his gaze while he lingered a little too long for your liking. When he was finally done ogling you, you saw the lust in his eyes grow. You gulped as he extended his hand.

“Dance with me?” The band started to play a slow song.

You looked at his hand and then up to his eyes which dared you to say now. Reluctantly, you grabbed his hand as he led you to the dance floor. Immediately, a few wandering eyes were on yours and Peter’s figure as he led the first dance.

“You know I’ve been thinking. Since you’ve been so perfect lately, I was going to recommend you to Stark for a spot on the Avengers,” your skin formed bumps as he spun you around.

“Could you imagine that? My obedient little angel fighting alongside me. Ugh, could there be anything more perfect?”

You were about to speak, but the music had stopped and all attention was directed to the stage. Up walks Fury and Tony Stark, Fury was first to take the podium and began his long speech about the gala and what supporting these charities means to him and everyone here tonight. You kept your eyes on him the entire time and ignored the words Peter was trying to whisper in your ear. You only started listening to him when he squeezed your waist hard causing you to yelp.

“I said, why don’t we go back to my room when this is all over, huh?” You froze when he ran his hand up and down your spine.

“Peter, don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?” He hummed in disagreement with you and he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Nonsense, I don’t even know why I asked, it’s not like you have a choice in the matter anyways,” the fucker laughed.

Your body was shaking and your face was turning red in anger. Peter was going to hold you down forever. There was no way you could ever escape someone as evil as him. Peter had a hold on you for as long as he wanted. You only had one chance to escape it seems and Fury had to be your ticket out.

Before you could form a response Fury handed over the mic to Tony. Fury stepped off the stage and you kept your eyes on him for the entire time. He was making his way out of the gala and you needed to be fast in order to catch him. Peter seemed too distracted by what Tony was saying so you loosened yourself out of his grip and stood beside him. Peter only glared at you for doing that, but you didn’t care, tonight would be the night you take down Peter Parker.

Slowly, you slinked away into the crowd as a round of applause sounded off for whatever Tony was saying. Peter didn’t seem to notice you leave and that’s when you took off. People were giving you disgusted looks as you began to run out of the ballroom and chase Fury.

You almost lost him in the elevators, but you took the steps and ran once you saw what floor he was heading to. You shucked off your heels and ran up the many steps to catch him. When you got to his floor, you pushed the stairwell door open and ran after him.

“Director F-,” you face planted.

Your ankles were tangled by some sort of slim rope and they wouldn’t come undone. Fury’s footsteps faded and new ones approached your struggling body. A pair of expensive shoes stopped right by your head as the body leaned down. You came eye to eye with an angry Peter Parker.

“Rebel, rebel,” he shook his head and hauled you up. You were beating on his back the entire time as tears formed in your eyes. The rope-like material was his webs which kept you trapped.

He went back in the stairwell and carried you up a few more flights until he came to his floor. The hallways were empty as everyone was still at the party. You tried to yell, but it only got you a harsh slap on your ass.

Peter stopped in front of his door and opened it. The second he closed it he threw you on the middle of the bed. He made his way to his suitcase and took out a pocket knife. You were screaming uncontrollably and he began to cut the webs loose. You knew better than to fight with a man with a knife, let alone Spider-Man with a knife.

“Rebel rebel, you’ve torn your dress,” Peter noticed the small tear towards the end of your gown and tore up the rest. “Rebel rebel, your face is a mess,” he looked at your makeup stained face. He put his thumb near your lips and began to smudge lipstick around your face.

“Rebel, rebel, what are we going to do about you?” Peter took off the rest of your dress. The only thing you were in was a lace thong. Peter licked his lips and began to trace the knife down your breast.

You were shaking, afraid that he might dig the knife deeper into your skin. Afraid that he was so mad at you he would go as far as to kill you. You started to whimper as Peter looked up. The smirk on his face grew wider and wider.

“Beg for me not to hurt you. Beg like the good little angel you are,” you were so close to not giving in, but Peter dug the tip of the blade into your skin just enough to pinch it.

“Please Peter, please, please don’t hurt me Peter,” he hummed in a way to tell you that he wasn’t convinced by the performance.

“Please Peter, I’ll do anything to please you. I’ll do anything to make you happy. Please Peter, I’m so sorry for being bad,” you were hysterical as he moved the knife further down your body. When he reached your center he chuckled and threw the knife to the other side of the room. He roughly grabbed you by your scalp and made you come face to face with him.

“Anything?” You shook your head in agreement. “Alright, I wanna fuck that naughty mouth.”

Peter pulled off his suit pants and became complete bare from the waist down. He pumped his cock a few times before grabbing your jaw and forcing your mouth open. He didn’t give you any time to get used to his size as he put all of himself in your mouth. He grabbed you scalp rougher this time and pushed your head up and down. Tears formed in your eyes again as you were forced to take him down your throat. He was a moaning and groaning mess until his thrust started to falter. Peter quickly pulled out watching in awe and the trail of saliva connected from your mouth to his cock.

Peter quickly sat you up and ripped off your underwear in the process. He started to rub his fingers along your folds where he found that you were wet. He smirked and chuckled as he continued rubbing up and down to make you become slicker than before. You tried biting back your moans, but Peter would only press down harder on your clit which caused you to cry out.

“See, I’m not so bad, princess. I could be good to you if you’re good to me,” he removed his fingers and pushed you down on the mattress.

“Peter, please,” you didn’t know if you wanted him to stop or urge you on.

“I know honey, I know. Just lay down and let me make you feel good,” Peter rid himself of the rest of his clothes and slotted himself between your legs.

His tip began to enter you and the rest of his length painfully stretched you out. You squirmed a little, but Peter reassured you it would feel better soon. Sure, he wasn’t your first, but it had been a long time since the last guy and you were a bit tight.

“Oh, angel, you really do feel like heaven,” he started to thrust a little faster.

Pretty soon, Peter was getting really rough with his thrust and making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. Peter got carried away and didn’t realize how fast he was going on you. You felt an orgasm building and were trying to communicate that to Peter but couldn’t form the words. Peter felt you tighten around him just a little too hard and he took that as the signal to pull out. After all, he did want to see his crush cum, for him and only him.

You felt the rush of your orgasm after Peter pulled out. When you looked up at him, his chest was covered in the slick sheen of sweat mixed with your arousal.

“Holy shit, you squirted. That’s got to be the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Peter went back inside you and hoisted himself on his knees and making you face to face with him. “I wanna see that again, and again, and a hundred more times.

He didn’t slow down no matter how many times you tried to beg and plead. Peter ripped out orgasm after orgasm from you and it only coaxed him to go harder and faster. Your bodies were covered in each other’s sweat and you were beginning to get a little tired. However, your eyes quickly shook away their tiredness when you felt fingers prodding your other hole.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” and as Peter continued his thrusting, he pushed one finger into your tight muscle and pounded into you harder.

“Aww fuck this feels so good,” Peter cried out one last time and finally came inside you.

You both collapsed onto the bed still connected to each other. Tears formed in your eyes once the shock wore off. He had finally gotten what he wanted from you.

Only a week went by when you had finally heard from Fury again. This time, he wanted to speak with you privately in his office. Your time with the Avengers program was up and he wanted to give his final thoughts.

“Well Agent, I am shocked to be saying this, but I am thoroughly impressed by your behavior with Peter. A little rough in the beginning, but I’m glad to see you both worked through your differences,” you wanted to scoff, but you wouldn't put a damper on Fury’s mood.

After that night in the hotel, the sex became a regular thing. Peter would demand and you were forced to give in. His punishments were still ongoing as he was still mad at you for trying to snitch on him to Fury, but now that the program has ended you and Peter Parker wouldn’t be seeing each other at all.

“And because of your improving behavior I’ve decided to push through your request,” you furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Request?”

“You know, your request to join the Avengers team officially. Parker has been raving about your skills and training that we decided to recommend you for a spot on the team. You’ll have to meet with Mr. Stark for a few interviews and sessions, but seeing as Peter has talked so fondly of you there is no doubt in my mind you wouldn't be offered the spot.”

You stayed frozen in your seat as Fury went on and on about you. You only left when he dismissed you, reminding you that Tony Stark would be contacting you soon.

When you shut the door behind you, you began to freak out. Peter was planning on keeping you as his. At this point, there would be no way out unless you either die, face embarrassment and let the video get leaked, or wait around until Peter gets bored. Knowing Peter and his fatal attraction to you none of those could happen.

On your way back to your room, you heard the familiar footsteps you’ve grown too disgusted to know. You turned around to face the man who would be running you entire life for who knows how long. Just as you were about to speak he opened his mouth first.

“Rebel, rebel, there you are.”

#Dark Avengers #dark peter parker #dark spider man #dark marvel #dark!Avengers #Dark Fic #marvel smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #maries500challenge #peter parker image #peter parker oneshot

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gopeachllama · 3 years

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My hopes for the VA tv show

So i got into vampire academy when i was in like grade 8/9 i think? So i would have been in my early teens. It's a book series that is very near-perfect to me, and it is very dear to my heart bc it's been with me for so long. That being said, i will be the first one to admit that there is a serious lack of diverse representation. Like i said before, i got into it almost ten years ago, and back then, even as a poc growing up as a minority, i was aware of this however it wasn't much of an issue for me mainly becuase it wasn't a issue for the people (the non-pocs) around me. Now that va is being developed into a tv series, i think this would be the perfect opportunity to change some things up to include more diverse characters. I've seen that there's already qutie a few people on here dicussing the sexualities of the characters, and they're really great. But this conversation is about race-bending. For anyone that wants to contribute to this post, i'm all up for kind and careful dicussions, it's not my intention to offend anyone, and i'm not trashing the series or it's creator.

Also the points about diversity and race in particular shouldn't be dimissed just because it's a fantasy/paranormal genre. Yes it is a fantasy/paranormal series but it is set in the real modern world, where issues like race and prejudice are relavent! You can't just ignore it. Also im sure that a lot of va stan are like me, in that they got into it at a very young age and now are older and also find these issue important to them, whether they are a poc or not.

Just a warning there will be a lot of spoilers (also random spiderman homecoming spoilers) in this post, so for anyone that hasn't read the books proceed with caution.

So firstly, i want to talk about the characters that won't be changed. Dimitri will obviously be russian. I like the idea that the royal families originating from european countries, so alot of the royals in this series lissa, adrian, victor etc. i think should stay white. It reflects a lot of the real world issues about how the people in 'higher class' western societies are mainly white. this is more personal but i have this weird headcannon that christian is like half-southeast asian (i say south-east asian bc i am also, and i would love more representation of my race (s/o to any of my sri lankan book stans if y'all even exist on here!!)) In the later books there is a focus on the prejudice regarding his relationship with lissa. this is due to the fact that his family is shun from the other royal bc of his parents willingly turning. It was a good plot point, but there was somthing about taking the real world prejudice of interracial relationship and using here between two white characters and framing it as something else that just rubs me off the wrong way (again, i never had these feelings as i was reading it for the first time, it was only until i got older that issues like race a representations became more important to me). This way, they can keep still keep the bit about christian's parents and race-bending christian would have any affect on the overall story. Rose (my baby) she could be made fully persian but if they stick with her being biracial, then i hope when it comes to casting that they find someone that has more persian physical features rather than someone with more eurocentric features.

Now for the main characters I think should be race-bent are eddie, jill and sydeny should be black. For eddie, i first thought that mason should be race-bent but then this would be a major problem in the second book because of the harmful sterotype about black people always being the first (major character) to die (i am STILL taumatised over mason's death and its going to destroy me all over again when i see it with my own two eyes).

Sydney, as far as i know, there's nothing in the books that make is pivitol for her to be white. And while is important to be diverse with race, it's important to be diverse with black characters in itself. Sydney has always been such an interesting character to me. she's analytical and methodical, she's book smart, and she's almost the complete opposite of rose, but doesn't make her any less a compelling character. So much in books, movies and tv shows, black females characters are mainly potrayed as strong, hardass, take-no-prisoners (sometimes even hyper-sexualised) type personalities. So rarely do we see them as with characteristic like sydeny's, so i think it would be really great to show this. Also her relationship with adrian has a lot of the same points with i said about christian's relationship with lissa regarding prejudice.

With Jill, i noticed that in the books, Mead sort of goes out for her way to describe her physical appearance, so that when later it is revealed that she is lissa's half sister, the readers are able to think "oh yeah of course they look really similar" and so it doesn't seem like a telenovella style outrageous plot twist. But for this i want to quickly talk about how in spiderman homecoming, peter's love interest who is black, is revealed to be the daughter of the villan who is white. For me, it was amazing reveal and something i was not expecting at all, but at the same time, its wasn't hard for me to believe because of course birracial people exist. I think it would be really cool to do the same thing here with Jill. It a great way to subvert people's expectations and wouldn't make the plot twist any less unreasonable. Aslo from what i can remember there are no black vampires?? for some reason? that was always kinda weird to me. Also with the three of these character's being black, they can still maintain the storyline of them passing off as siblings when they're in hiding, that is if they ever adapt the bloodlines storyline too.

Whether or not these characters, or any of the characters, will be race-bent, it won't change my experince with the book series. Like I said at the start, vampire academy will always be THAT series for me. The world-building is simple and easy to follow but the plot and characters are so compelling. But this upcoming tv adaptions would be a good oppotuny to address the very few things i (and a lot of other diverse readers) have with it.

#va #vampire academy #richelle mead #julie plec #rose hathaway #dimitri belikov #lissa dragomir #christian ozera #sydney sage #adrian ivashkov #jill mastrano #eddie catile #romitri #sydrian

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deiliamedlini · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday

I have been mentally down and writing poorly for a few weeks now, and even my friend was like “oof, yeah don’t post this yet. It needs work” and thankfully has been stopping me from making rash decisions like randomly posting fics to AO3 on a whim.

The WIP below (even though it needs more editing) is the beginning of the new fic I’m going to post next. I’m finally back to the pirates too, which is making progress, but is just slow going because I’m making sure I’m not forgetting plots (which I already have so I am not rushing the chapter but it is in progress finally!).

It’s a Pre-Calamity AU with heavy emphasis on the AU. It’s basically Zelda being forced to train with Link for her safety. Antagonistic-but-not-enemies, to friends, to lovers trope. I want to call it Dance With Me because it’s not really about dancing (I like the other meanings of the phrase), but my friend says it sucks as a title and now I’m rethinking 😂 I’m doing so well!

When Princess Zelda was seventeen years old, she’d been fully prepared to die.

Ancient prophecies had foretold a Great Calamity that would sweep the land of Hyrule into a great blight and destroy it all unless those chosen by destiny could stop it.

Zelda had been one of those who’d been blessed by the Goddess’s alleged favor: Hylia’s spirit and magic coursed within her.

But the wielder of the Master Sword hadn’t been found in time.

Four champions stayed by the Divine Beasts: Urbosa, Revali, Daruk, and Mipha. And for a year, the five of them waited while King Rhoam of Hyrule went on a mad search for the Chosen Hero and for the location of the Master Sword itself.

Zelda had spent that time relentlessly pursuing the Goddess’ power; she passed out in the holy springs, prostrated herself before Goddess statues for hours at a time, devoted every waking second she had to prayer. But despite her greatest efforts, her attempts were fruitless.

But perhaps the Goddess were showing their favor after all, because despite every prophecy, despite every prediction, wall carving, and palm reading, the Calamity never came, and Zelda was spared a horrific death at the hands of darkness incarnate.

One year after the predicted date, the Champions felt like they could finally move away from the Beasts, ever watchful, but able to maintain some of their daily lives. Zelda stopped spending day and night in freezing water and instead moved to the Temple of Time where the weather was bearable, and the distance was well within reach of the Castle while still spending most of her time in holy grounds.

Two years after the predicted date, the Champions began to lead normal lives again, freely leaving their domains, though they were still ready to return at a moment’s notice. Zelda began to spend more time in the library, sifting through ancient tombs and personal diaries of past monarchs, hoping her answer lied in pages rather than prayer.

Three years after the predicted date, the Champions were harder to find on a day-to-day basis. But Zelda remained steadfast and relentless with her nose in books and her knees in the spring’s water. The Sheikah had to pull her out several times. They had to force her into recovery.

But by the fourth year, the Beasts had gathered dust, and Zelda had utterly given up, instead helping Purah and Robbie with their ancient tech and Guardian research, which—despite the lack of the Calamity—still had other practical applications.

It seemed that everything had been built up for no reason, that there was no Calamity after all.

So, it was only when they’d all gotten comfortable that the Yiga Clan, a cult devoted to the demon lord Ganon, began their relentless assault on Princess Zelda, heir to the Goddess’ devastating sealing powers.

The entirety of that year had been spent with Zelda running from attack after attack, losing her guards, losing Sheikah. She was sent back to the castle where Purah set up protective wards around her room that ran off ancient tech, and she continued working on them so they might be able to encompass the entire castle.

King Rhoam’s royal command had been that Zelda could not touch any Sheikah tech. She couldn’t look at Guardians, or ask about runes and wards. So, Zelda returned to her studies once more until her eyes burned from sitting over tombs in the candlelight.

She had to admit, she’d become proficient in her royal duties, following her father to almost everything she was permitted in. What she wasn’t, he’d fill her in on after.

At this point, a vast majority of Hyrule believed the peace was a sign that the Calamity was never going to arrive. The other school of thought, which Zelda subscribed to, was that the Calamity should be feared far more than ever, its unpredictability keeping the other half of the kingdom in a deeply rooted state of caution and suspense ever since.

Though Zelda had asked her father to let her leave the protection of the Castle more often for experiences outside of prayer, his answer was always the same: “I lost your mother to those cultists; I will not lose you as well.”

“I just want to swim in Lake Hylia,” she’d tried once. “The days have gotten unbearable. Please, father? I’ll take an entire company of guards with me.”

“I’m sorry, Zelda. No. You may go to a spring of your choice. The waters there will likely be a cool temperature. Perhaps try the Spring of Wisdom.”

Zelda was 21, though she felt as though one hundred years had passed. She was tired, bone weary with an exhaustion that had set in so deep, she spent a decent amount of her days simply sleeping. When she was awake, she stared at her hand, waiting for magic to miraculously hit her in the face. Perhaps if she stared long enough, the Goddess would take pity on her patheticness.

The days when she’d been sent out to pray were now her favorites. She’d found ways to coerce her guards into taking longer routes, stopping for longer breaks.

That’s what happened on the day her father had reached his breaking point regarding the attacks on her life.

She returned to the castle shaken and sore, but his tight arms held her as his body shook with relief. He sank to his knees and held her in his arms the way he’d done the day her mother died, and he realized he needed nothing more than to hold his child in his arms to remember that the world was still spinning as long as she was alive.

He’d told her that when he’d said goodnight to her, standing in the doorway of her room with poorly concealed heartache written all over his sagging body.

“I’m really fine,” Zelda said for the fourth time that hour. She sat on top of her long, blue satin sheets, sliding a bit as she tried to adjust her leg. Something about being curled into herself in some way helped make her feel comfortable as she smiled to ease her father’s mind.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to stop by in the morning, if that’s alright.”

“Sure,” she said, shrugging as if she were entirely unaffected by everything she’d been through. She was good at that façade after five years of stares and whispers.

“Okay. Goodnight. May the Goddess watch over you.”

That was how Zelda found herself in the library before the crack of dawn, perched on a ladder in the top shelves of the restricted section. She had access, of course, but she was reading an untranslated a Sheikah tomb from a former handmaiden of the Princess of Hyrule before her ascent to the throne. That Princess had practically bled power, and Zelda hoped her handmaid noted something of interest.

She tucked the book under her arm and climbed down, crossing the library that was filled with several lifetimes worth of books, and stopped in the government documents. Her eyes trailed the spines for a familiar one with territories clearly outlined. She went to the language section to grab a reference book for Ancient Sheikah. Though she was mostly fluent in that, among several other languages, the ancient variations on words occasionally tripped her up. So she set back up to her room with her pile of books, ready to be confined by her father for her safety once again.

Zelda nodded to several of the guards she passed as they stood at their post. Despite the castle being one of the safest places in Hyrule thanks to all the tech, guards were still positioned in the most well-traveled places on their patrols, while two guards stood at her door and her father’s.

Biting her lip, Zelda craned her neck around her pile to try to find the doorknob, fumbling her hand around blindly, just barely able to turn the handle. And because the Goddess never wanted to cooperate with her, she dropped two of the books, though she managed to cling to the relic with tight fingers. The other two fell right onto her guard’s foot.

“I’m so sorry!” Zelda muttered, bending to pick them up.

The guard was beside her, nearly banging heads with her as he grabbed the heavy translation tomb. Thankfully for her, he flinched away in time; he was wearing a helmet that covered most of his head, and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that metal. “Don’t apologize,” the guard said softly, picking up the other book for her. “Would you like me to…” He gestured vaguely to her room.

“Oh, no thank you. Just stack them on top of this one.” He did, and she took a step inside before backing up. “Actually, would you mind getting the antechamber door for me, please?”

He stepped inside and pushed the second door open before backing up respectfully.

“Thank you so much,” she said, about to use her foot to close the door when she looked back. “And again, I am sorry I dropped a heavy book on your foot.”

He bowed his head and stepped back out, so she closed the door and set her books down.

Her father came into her room early, as promised.

“Zelda,” he said with a strained greeting. The corner of his lip twitched, like his muscles had become tired under the strain of holding it up for so long, and his eyes held no joy, no spark. It was forced chipperness, and Zelda picked up on it immediately. “May I sit?”

“Of course.”

She sat on a chest at the foot of her bed, and he pulled the chair away from the desk to face her. “Well, let’s not beat around the bush. There have been many attempts on your life, but I have felt none so potently as yesterday’s. When they told me you’d been attacked, all I could remember was the news of your mother. And then when you were brought in…” he ran a hand along a bruise on her cheek that she didn’t realize she had until she felt a flare of pain cause her to flinch. “You are my precious daughter, and I love you. I never want to see you harmed. That said, others do. It’s becoming impossible for you to safely leave the castle.”

Zelda braced herself. This was where he confined her to her room or to the palace grounds for the foreseeable future. She folded her hands over her lap so he couldn’t see the shaking grow more visible.

“You’ve been unable to protect yourself with your powers, so we must resort to other means. You’re to learn to defend yourself, starting immediately. We still need you at the springs, so I cannot command you to stay here. You still are a priestess of Hylia. So, given your setbacks, you’ll need to learn.”

Zelda’s mouth dropped open as she let the words process through her mind. “I’m sorry, what?”

“We’ll hopefully have a sword in your hand soon enough, but you’ll be able to defend yourself from these cultists.”

“A sword?”

“It’s too dangerous. We’ve lost too many guards. And you can’t fight as it is. This is the best option.”

“No!” she said, much louder than intended. “Fight the Yiga?” She shuddered just at the word.

“Zelda, we need you to live. Hyrule needs you to succeed, and to succeed, you must survive.”

Standing up didn’t make it any easier to breathe, as Zelda had hoped. “You think I haven’t tried?” Tears threatened her eyes as her voice cracked on her last word. As if years of her life sacrificed to unreturned devotion wasn’t enough for her. For him. For all of Hyrule. She’d tried, she’d bargained, she’d offered up her comfort, her breath, her mind, her years, her time. She was one person. What was left for her to do?

“Do you think I just stand there and watch my knights get murdered? Do I just drop to my knees and pray? Is that what you think I do?”

“Zelda…”

“No! You’re right, father. I’ll lead the Yiga right to the Goddess Spring that you need me to go to again just so I can brandish a sword and strike one down with my prowess! Because, Goddess knows that my Knights have an easy enough time with the Yiga, so it should be a cinch for me!” The sarcasm oozed from her in an unintentional venom drip.

“You’re telling me that I’ve failed! You’re telling me to give up and grab a stupid sword! Give me some armor next time I go to the Temple of Time! I don’t need my priestess garb. I have my sword! Because it will absolutely save me!”

“Zelda, please.”

“Please,” she scoffed, finally feeling a hot tear on her cheek. “You’re telling me I’m going to die! Five years ago, I was ready. I knew I’d failed, but I stood vigil waiting for the Calamity to give my life in the final hope that it might stop Ganon! But now, I was blessed with time, and still I can’t do it! I can’t access her powers. So you want me to fail one more time by using a sword to defend myself? This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and I was there when Lady Styla proposed that sham of a fashion show to lift spirits.”

“That’s irrelevant, Zelda.”

From the look on his face, she could tell he was not budging. She tried another tactic. “I-I shouldn’t be near a sword anyway! What if I stabbed myself by accident? Then there’s no way I’ll ever unlock mother’s power. I’ll be dead with or without the Yiga! I already dropped a book on my guard today! That could have been my foot with a knife! And before you tell me that there have been warrior queens and princesses throughout the history of Hyrule, that’s because they never met me. I’m not a fighter! I read books all day! I take notes. I can bore the Calamity to death with a detailed review of the territory lines in Northern Akkala! That might be more effective than a sword, at least.”

“Zelda, you’re not thinking of the big picture…”

“But if I don’t unlock the power because of some silly distraction like learning how to fight, then the world will fall to the Calamity. My time will now need to be spent in that wretched training area with all kinds of sweaty men. Do you want your precious daughter exposed to such a sight? Worse yet, what if I like it and decide to spend all my days there with… shirtless men!” She grimaced and blushed all at once.

“This is the most absurd argument I’ve ever heard. You leave me no choice but to make that a command from your king rather than a request from your father. Because as much as I love you, I also am obligated to keep you safe.”

“Obligated?” her voice cracked again, losing some of her rambling thunder. “I’m an obligation? Is that how you see your daughter?”

She gasped when he let the silence answer for him.

“You start your training now. Your instructor has already been informed and will be ready for you.”

“Who?” she asked, glancing at the four guards at her door. Two hers, two her father’s. They were all hearing her shame. How long until everyone knew?

“He’s the most renowned swordsman in all of Hyrule, one of our best fighters, and he’s about your age, so he should be someone you can get along with.”

“The best fighter in all of Hyrule is only 22? No wonder the Yiga are everywhere, if those are our standards.”

“Be kind, Zelda.”

“Is that another order, My King?”

He sighed and crossed the room, stopping at her door. “One more thing. While you’re there, I’ve given him permission to overrule you if you command him not to train you. You will learn to stay safe, whether you want to or not. Now change and go. He’s expecting you now.” He turned his head to her guards. “Make sure she goes to the training yard, and if she refuses, come fetch me.”

As soon as he was gone, she slammed her door and sagged into the wood.

She did consider hiding out, but she knew her father would simply bring the soldier into her room to train if he had to. At this point, with the number of times the Yiga had come after her, she wouldn’t have really blamed her father if he’d locked her in a door-less room and dropped this instructor in through a hole in the ceiling until she learned to protect herself. Truthfully, the idea itself—in theory—wasn’t the worst. Except for the fact that the Yiga were deadly warriors who trained to kill for most of their lives and slaughtered companies of trained Hylian knights.

Grabbing her most comfortable pants to train in, Zelda slowed as she remembered the event that had started this all.

The Great Tabanthan Bridge crossed the long expanse of the Tanagar Canyon, and she was always careful of the crossing. The fall alone would not only kill someone, but it’d likely flatten them clean out from a drop of that height. So, crossing it was not something that was taken lightly on a good day.

Being that far out there was entirely her fault to begin with.

She’d desired to visit the Temple to Hylia that was at the edge of the gorge, but she’d opted to lead everyone along the scenic route to enjoy some of her free time outside of the castle. The guards had protested briefly, but Zelda was adamant about a scenic detour.

What she hadn’t been able to predict or expect, no matter how much research she did, was that the Yiga were there, lying in wait for her and her guards.

She’d been bucked clean off her stubborn horse, and she’d been left on the great bridge as three Yiga ran for her. Though she’d gone to run, she was caught by one who appeared in front of her in a puff of smoke.

Trying to fight them off of her had been like the great struggle of praying for the Goddess’ powers: utterly futile, and a waste of time.

Half of her attempts to shake them had been by holding the rope handle of the bridge and throwing herself precariously close so they’d have to follow.

The soldiers eventually reached her and fended the Yiga off, but they’d also recounted the entire incident to her father in horrific detail: how she was winded by the time she’d run halfway across the bridge, how she nearly fell off the great, how she couldn’t fight any of them off and had been overwhelmed, and how her weak strength had caused two large wounds in her palms from where she’d tried to push a blade away from her at one point.

Glancing down at her now-healed hands—thanks to the castle medics—Zelda pulled on her boots and tugged up the laces tight. She wasn’t weak. She just wasn’t… physically domineering. But put any puzzle, any riddle, any impossibility in front of her and she’d find the solution. That’s not weakness. That’s strength. She is strong… just not traditionally.

Her shirt was loose, and she tied up her hair before looking at herself in the mirror for a long time, finally noticing the bruise she’d sustained. She was going to hate this almost as much, if not more, than she hated horseback riding.

Resigned to her fate, Zelda trudged slowly toward the training yard, hoping to be late enough to at least remind everyone that she didn’t want to be there.

Glancing at the sun, she’d determined that she managed to be at least fifteen minutes late. Not bad. She could do worse next time.

The yard was empty of the usual hustle and bustle that went on, and she imagined that her father must have ordered it be kept clear for her private sessions. But it was also clear of an instructor.

She stood in the middle of the training yard and fisted her hands tightly as she looked around. No one. Her eyes narrowed at the empty space, searching for some sign of trickery. But the only others there were the two guards she had brought with her.

“Is this some sort of a joke?” Zelda asked, placing her hands on her hips. “Hello?”

There was no answer.

Shrugging happily to herself, she was ready to leave, but one look at her guards standing near the entrance reminded her of her father’s orders to fetch him if she didn’t go; either she stayed here long enough to prove that she made the attempt, or she’d be embarrassingly dragged back down by her father’s guards, humiliated as they would keep hold of her arms to ensure she followed them right back here. Her father would make sure she was here, no matter what.

Crossing her arms, Zelda walked around. She rarely went to the training yards unless she was up in the parapets, so being down in the dirt and grass felt like she was in an entirely new world. One she didn’t belong in.

There were training dummies lined up against a wall and a worn dirt track in a wide circle around the outskirts of the otherwise square area. There was a bench. There were weapons on a rack.

And that was it.

She looked at the footprints etched in the dirt, kneeling down to read the story told by the shoe treads. There was a large step forward, and then several overlapping smaller ones as the wearer clearly stumbled back. Then a single skid mark as they were forced back. And then the imprint of a body where they’d fallen.

If Zelda were here under any other circumstances, she’d have smiled and tried to find all the stories in the dirt, but instead, she stood back up and sighed, craning her neck towards the barracks just past the archway. No one was outside, and no one was coming.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, prepared to leave. But her eye caught on a weapon rack, and she glanced one more time at the barracks before heading to the largest spear. She held it, pretending she was one of her knights. Goddess, if a Yiga came at her, she’d die. Fear first, and then clumsiness, because who could control this glorified stick well enough to kill a Yiga?

She shuddered and put it back.

“You can get there eventually,” someone said.

She spun around to see one of her two guards walking towards her. He removed his helmet, shaking out his blonde hair. Zelda watched in confusion as he set the helmet down on a post and pulled a blue band off his wrist to tie his long hair back.

“But only if you’re not fifteen minutes late on purpose,” he said, not looking up at her. “Princess,” he added with a bow of his head.

Her mouth dropped slightly and her cheeks warmed at the light scolding. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, almost doubting if she’d heard him correctly.

She scoffed at his audacity, recognizing the bright blue eyes of the guard she’d dropped her book on. Did he think that a conversation with her this morning gave a guard the right to chastise her?

He held out his hand, and she instinctively handed the spear back, though in hindsight she wished that she’d hit him with it instead. She’d been too stunned. He returned it to it’s place, and walked across the entirety of the training yard without so much as looking at her.

Her feet tumbled after him as she mentally and physically struggled to keep up. What was happening? Why wasn’t he answering her? Why was he even talking to her? Who was this man?

“Hey!” she finally called. He stopped and turned.

That’s when he looked up for the first time, his downcast blue eyes lifting off the dirt and settling on her green ones.

Pride swelled in her when she saw them waver, because clearly her voice had rattled him in some way. He clearly didn’t like looking her in the eye either. His eyes kept darting off of hers, and he had to keep forcing them back. Her own eyes narrowed, trying to understand this guard. “Who are you?”

“Your instructor.”

#wip wednesday #legend of zelda #botw au #pre-calamity au #link #zelda #zelink #writing #still needs another round of editing to not make it boring #You don't know how bad I wanted Link to say Your dancing master like syrio forel or something hahaha!!#and now you know half the reason why I want this title

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