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#birthday curse strikes again.
redskyvenus · 3 months
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𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ⟡ TOJI FUSHIGURO
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content warnings: non-curse AU, sfw/fluff, bf!toji x fem reader, mentions of food, late period, pet names, pregnancy, suggestive nsfw comment (it’s toji c’mon) | wc: 0.5k
notes: happy birthday to the love of my life <3 just a short little drabble to celebrate my husband’s special day! not proofread, reblogs/comments are appreciated
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“Princess? I’m home…” The front door resounds with a hearty thud and you hear Toji’s voice echo through the large hallway.
“They ran out of the caramel sea salt flavor you wanted, so I brought the strawberry cheesecake instead. Hope that’s okay.” As Toji enters the shared bedroom, he finds you sitting on the bed folding laundry.
When you finally look up at your tall boyfriend, his captivating green eyes melt into yours. Toji’s broad smile turns into a pout upon seeing your disappointed face as he holds up the ice cream tub.
“I’ll go there again tomorrow, promise.”
Before you can process his words, tears well up in your eyes and quiet sobs escape you. "Hey, hey, don’t cry, baby.” Sitting beside you on the crisp white sheets, Toji strokes the back of your head. “What’s wrong? Was I gone too long?"
“Nothing, Toji. I’m just sensitive today; my period is late. Hormones are a mess, as usual.” You sigh as he wipes away your tears, his warm lips showering your dampened cheek with tender kisses. Calloused fingers soothingly caress your face.
“Do I need to eat you out again?” He chuckles, teasingly. “I’m still hungry,” he adds, seductively licking his scarred lips.
“No,” you laugh airily as his big hands wrap around your waist. "Today's all about you, birthday boy." You playfully slap his cheek before giving it a kiss. “Wanna watch a movie before the countdown starts?”
“Sure, but no more Twilight. Please,” he begs humorously, switching on the tv.
You huff at his comment, folding your arms over each other in mock disappointment. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome; otherwise I would’ve traded you for someone who doesn’t complain about watching Twilight every New Year’s Eve.
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5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
As the clock strikes midnight, bright fireworks light up the skies and a long, steamy kiss is shared. “Happy New Year, beautiful. I love you.” He whispers lustfully against your glossy lips.
“I love you too, Toji.” Pulling away, you quickly grab a neatly wrapped gift box from underneath the bed. “Here, take it.” Giggles escape you as you nervously start to fiddle with your fingers.
“What’s this? Another gift?!”
“Just open it.”
Toji unwraps it skillfully, eyes widening in surprise as he holds the pregnancy test. "Fuck. Did you test positive for Covid again?" he exclaims in shock.
You shake your head, bursting into laughter. "No, idiot. There's something else in there.”
His hands rummage through the box, and he discovers a pair of tiny, beige baby socks under the wrapping. Holding them up in awe, he stammers, “Wait— does this mean y-… you’re pregnant?”
His heart swells, and a tear of joy glistens in the corner of his eye.
A radiant smile graces your face, nodding slowly. “WE’RE GONNA HAVE A BABY TOGETHER!” Toji proudly exclaims, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of surprise and sheer pride.
Without hesitation, he lifts up your shirt and gently kisses your stomach, laying down to rest his head. “This is why you were throwing up so much these past few days—the stomach flu turns out to be our little brat instead.” Toji sniffles while lovingly rubbing your belly.
“I can’t believe Megumi is gonna be a big brother.” You whisper softly as your fingers glide through his black, silky strands.
“Do you wanna tell him or should I?”
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matrixbearer2024 · 1 month
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Troubles Unforeseen
Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader
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A/N: Wowowowow- I did not realize my story would be so well received hahaha, I'm honestly grateful you guys like it so much. Anyways- here's the loooong awaited continuation to the series and I hope you all enjoy this installment as much as you've enjoyed the past ones. Happy reading!
A/N: To say this was looong overdue is a friggin understatement since it's literally just been chilling in my drafts like no one's business hahahaha. I'm posting it now so people can start writing ideas about what to do after Reader dies, but go ahead and feel free to keep posting HCs about Reader still being alive. It's an AU at this point and I'll keep writing about it like one HAHAHAHA!
To say Vox paid more attention to you now was slightly an understatement.
You were both practically connected by the hip digitally.
Even your friend group noticed how much time you'd spent just chatting whoever was on the receiving end of your shenanigans.
Not that they knew what kind of peculiar situation was always on the other side of the screen.
In fact, Vox was aware he probably should've been paying more attention to the meeting he was in-
It just so happens that you interested him more than any typical business ever could.
All the more when you'd told him you were getting ready for a party.
"It's just a birthday celebration Vox, it's not like I'm going to a club or anything."
"If there's any booze try not to get shitfaced, or will you drive yourself there?"
You could only giggle at his worry, taking a glance at your phone as it continued to buzz from his messages.
You clipped on the new earrings you'd bought just a few days ago to go with your outfit.
Even if you had gone shopping with your friends-
You still sent Vox pictures, asking what look he preferred.
He was in the middle of spying on Alastor when you once again swiped up all his attention.
Aaaaaand he actually thought you looked great in all of the outfits.
A warm feeling spread through him upon seeing your cheeky grin and silly poses.
Ah whatever, at this point it was nothing new.
But he did finally end up picking the one which bore a striking resemblance to his color scheme.
You didn't even notice at first when you bought the outfit.
Only when you saw the small desktop companion Vox made for you while doing assignments did you realize the subconscious decision your overlord buddy had made.
You teased him about it for a while too, much to his chagrin.
"I'll be with my friends, you don't have anything to worry about."
"The same friends that caused how we met? Doll, I have every right to be concerned."
Vox had nothing against the chaotic nature of your friends.
After all they always brought out the best-
And the worst-
In you, no matter what you were doing.
Even so, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very... off.
Like an ominous shadow just looming over his shoulder.
He didn't make any mention of it though, thinking he was just being paranoid.
Besides, he didn't want to rain on your parade.
You'd gone the whole nine yards to pretty yourself up for the party.
He wouldn't want your efforts to be in vain.
Vox felt a twinge of jealousy towards the fact others would be able to admire how nice you were in real time, he only had pictures.
Wait what-
Okay, there was definitely something still wrong with him.
"I might not be as active for a few hours because of the party so go and actually focus on the things you gotta do."
"Are you insinuating that I don't do that already?"
"When you spam memes and talk to me nearly all the time can you blame me for not thinking you're always distracted?"
Vox mumbled cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes and glancing back up to check if the boring meeting was over.
Ugh... were they even halfway done discussing this shit?
"Yeah whatever, enjoy your party dollface. Don't get too hammered."
"Hahaha love you too dumbass, I'll keep you updated."
The overlord glitched slightly reading your reply.
His stomach definitely did a flip when he first saw what you typed.
Vox already knew it was probably just a: "I love you as a really close friend" thing-
But that didn't stop his systems from freaking out about it anyhow.
He decided it would be best to stop thinking about it anyways, placing his phone down and finally placing his attention back on the meeting.
Like it should've been the entire time-
Vox didn't really give a fuck though.
On your end, you were going to be picked up by your friends before you all headed to the party.
You guys decided it would be smarter to carpool so most of you guys could actually drink and unwind.
"Heeeeey bitch! Wow! Your outfit slays!"
You rolled your eyes before climbing into shotgun.
"I had some help picking out the look, any good?"
"(Y/N) you are going to break necks with how fast heads will turn, are you kidding me??"
That just reminded you of something Vox said when you showed him the pictures of your completed outfit.
'They're going to turn their heads so fast it'll give them whiplash! You look stunning darling!'
Vox's knack for petnames sometimes embarrassed you, especially when it sometimes seemed a little more than friendly.
Though- that was probably not the case, he was just being the charming idiot TV telecaster that he was with his sweet talk.
You often caught yourself wondering if he ever meant his words, or if it was just the persona Vox played up.
You partly hoped he meant it, even if you didn't know why.
That was until the not-so-subtle snickering of your friends popped the thought bubble you were in.
"Ooookay, what's so funny?"
"Who are you thinking about~? That digital 'friend' of yours?"
You audibly groaned from the situation your friends were insinuating.
They never really believed that you were just chatting with a friend when you were on the phone with Vox.
Despite the multiple times you'd blatantly mentioned that he really was just that.
A friend, a companion-
He wasn't supposed to be anything more than that right?
A blush was creeping up your neck as your friends continued to prod and tease at you for it, fanning your own face slightly to try and calm down the raging embarrassment.
Of course, it would always be fun and games-
Until it wasn't.
Everything happened so fast.
You were just joking with your friends in one moment-
And now you were coughing up blood in the next.
You remembered your friends screaming, some bright headlights, the brakes screeching then metal crunching.
You couldn't even move.
The entire front of the car had been shoved backwards into the front seats.
Even if the paramedics got here in time, you doubted they could save you.
The coppery tang of blood stained your tongue.
You'd gotten all dolled up for the party too.
It's unfortunate that now you'd never be able to go.
Heh... you probably wouldn't even be able to get drunk now either.
Wait-
Oh shit-
Vox!!
You wanted to reach for your phone but both your arms were fucked up in the crash.
The only thing you could really move was your head.
Even then, darkness was already starting to creep into your vision.
It didn't matter how valiantly you fought to keep your eyes open.
You lost too much blood, by the time the paramedics had arrived-
They announced you dead and took you away in a body bag.
The lower half of you had gotten entirely mangled from the accident that you surviving seemed bleak to begin with.
You thought you were done for when you closed your eyes for the final time.
Only when you opened them again- you were somewhere else entirely.
What...?
The skies were blood red, there was practically fire and murder everywhere you turned-
And oh ew- it even smelled like rotten burning corpses.
Where the fuck were you??
Was this supposed to be hell???
You carefully wandered around, hesitating here and there before stumbling across a large building.
Hazbin Hotel...?
Huh, you had no where else to go.
Might as well give it a shot.
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on-my-vigilante-sht · 3 months
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The Final Quest
Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader
Requested by: @reader-bookling123: hiii I had a request for Luke where it kinda takes place in the past but he was dating reader and they were deeply in love but on their quest somehow reader sadly dies and Luke is just heartbroken and angry and he’s mad that everyone just moved on from her and maybe some cute reuniting moment
Summary: How a quest with the love of Luke's life turned him away from the gods
Warnings: Angst, major spoilers for series, graphic description of death, suicide (technically), anger, resentment, pain, fluffy ending, Dionysus and Apollo slander
Word count: 5.5K
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Later A/N So I'm just now rereading Titan's Curse for the first time in like four years so I forgot that the Garden of Hesperides is west in the books. However, when I was researching the myth it was said to be some place north so I chose Canada. So that's why it doesn't reflect the book.
“Happy birthday, Luke,” my girlfriend smiled. Our lips were so close our noses were already touching. But just as I could feel the fleeting touch of her lips on mine, there was a flash of light, making her jump away from me in surprise. Looking over to the source of the light, I found my father standing three feet from us on the dock.
Neither of us had time to react before Hermes was speaking. “Hi Luke! Happy birthday. I have a gift for you.”
“Uh… th-thank you,” I tried to sound grateful but I was a little caught off guard and annoyed he ruined the moment.
“Oh, sorry!” he laughed, noticing my girlfriend who was still half in my lap. “How are you Y/N?”
“I- I’m well, Lord Hermes. How are you?” she asked nervously, awkwardly scooting away from me, moving her legs so their weight no longer rested on mine.
“Oh, no need with the Lord stuff. I may not be the god of prophecy but I am the god of gambling and I’m betting you two will get married. We’ll be family!”
“Father,” I tried to interrupt him as the embarrassment coursed through my veins, bringing heat up to my face. I didn’t even want to see Y/N’s reaction I was so nervous and embarrassed.
“Oh, right. Sorry kid. I forgot how much you teenagers hate sharing your feelings. But uh I’ve heard your prayers and offerings Luke and I have a quest for you.” My eyes widened. Finally. All my training would pay off. I could prove myself and go down in history as a hero. “I need you to get me the golden apples in Hesperides’ garden. Hera is getting a little too insufferable these days y’know?”
Y/N and I sent each other looks, our mouths open in hesitation. Our next words had to be careful. If we agreed to the wrong thing we’d be insulting Hera and I was sure she’d strike us down right here. She didn’t like demigods, to her we were an offense to marriage. Especially the ones that were a product of offense to her own marriage. “Thank you for the quest,” I carefully dodged his last comment.
“Of course, kid. Here, you’ll need this.” He snapped his fingers and in another blaze of heavenly light, a duffle bag appeared in his hands. “Well, good luck. I’ll see you back here when you bring me my apples,” he smiled, handing me the bag. “Uh, avert your eyes,” he warned. Waiting for us to cover our eyes, he disappeared in a golden spray of light.
When the world dimmed again I turned to Y/N. “Oh my god!” she yelled excitedly. She stood up, throwing her arms around me, almost knocking us both into the water. I laughed, hugging her tightly in return. “Luke, you’re gonna be a hero!” she gushed, pulling away so she could look at me.
“We’re gonna be heroes,” I assured her, placing a hand on her face. “Come with me,” I requested. My heart was thumping quickly in my chest out of excitement and nervousness. “We can be the Greek Bonnie and Clyde. Hundreds of years from now demigods will read our myths and say, ‘We can be like Y/N and Luke.’”
She looked at me, confused. “Luke, they were criminals and died tragically,” she laughed a little at the ridiculousness of it all.
“Okay wrong analogy but you get the idea. Please, I can’t do this without you.” As much as I wanted my glory, I knew the Daughter of Apollo wanted it too. And I’d be damned if I couldn’t give it to her.
“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “I’ll go with you.”
“Yes!” I cheered, hugging her so tightly I ended up lifting her off the wooden docks. She laughed as I began to spin, even almost spinning us into the cold water.
~
After talking to Chiron and getting my prophecy, Y/N and I were off in a car that Mr. D had somehow acquired. The only reason we were allowed to take it was because I was 17 and had a little driving experience from when I would take my mom’s car when she was too out of it to even get groceries. I shook off the thoughts as Y/N once again went through our supplies and plan. She seemed nervous even though I assured her numerous times we’d be fine.
“Drachma, cash, ambrosia, passports, drivers license, an enchanted map, and a bow and arrow,” she repeated the contents of the duffle bag. “The Garden of Hesperides is in northern Canada,” she mused, looking at the map. “Heracles defeated Ladon with a bow and arrow by piercing each head through the eye.”
“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” I assured, reaching across the center console to place a reassuring hand on her thigh. I left it there, rubbing calming circles on the skin of her leg with my thumb. “Heracles did it before…” I said, the words slowly dying as they came out. Heracles already did it. I tried to shake off the thought that I was just redoing a quest. They were so uncommon nowadays it was an honor to be chosen for one. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself to chase the doubt away. Besides, Heracles technically failed his quest, he didn’t bring them to Eurystheus. I would succeed in bringing them to the person who had requested them.
“What was the prophecy again?” she asked, still looking at the map.
I swallowed nervously. The prophecy was not optimistic for us. I couldn’t possibly imagine what we’d find out about each other on this trip that would cause us to lose our love for one another. “You shall go north to fruits, rare / Liar to liar, a father’s heir, / Loves will be lost in Ladon’s lair,” I repeated.
“‘You shall go north to fruits, rare,’” she repeated. “Obviously that means we’re going north to find the golden apples. “‘Liar to Liar, a father’s heir.’ Hermes is the god of lies. And I guess stealing makes you deceitful. Ergo, a liar… ‘Loves will be lost in Ladon’s lair,’” she repeated. I could hear the dread infiltrating her voice.
“Hey,” I interrupted her thinking with a squeeze to her thigh, “that could mean anything. Prophecies are just a guide. A starting point. It was so short and vague that we don’t even know if it’s talking about us. We’ll be fine,” I promised again.
“Yeah, of course,” came her voice. I glanced away from the road, finding a weak smile on her face.
“What kind of music does Dionysus have?” I asked, trying to change the subject. She opened the glove compartment, several things falling out of it.
She began to go through them. “Um, a concerning amount of Weird Al Yankovic.” I laughed as she continued to look through. She then gasped. “Oh my gods.” She held up something next to me that I took. I nearly slammed on the brakes as I glanced down at it.
I couldn’t stare at the CD in my hand too long so we wouldn’t crash but every time I glanced down at it I found a new horrifyingly wonderful detail on the album cover. It was Mr. D with the weirdest haircut I had ever seen. He was lying down on a cheetah print rug, his shirt was a zebra print and had the first several buttons undone so the viewer could see all of his glorious chest hair. That wasn’t even the most outrageous part. Mr. D was lying down next to a tiger with a gold chain around its neck. Hanging from the chain was presumably Mr. D’s stage name, “Dionomite” written in gold cursive and studded with diamonds. “We have to listen to this!”
“Already ahead of you,” she said, punching buttons on the dash. She took the CD from me and put it in. Once it was ready, our ears were immediately assaulted with the sound of various horn instruments being poorly played. “Did he play all the instruments himself?”
“Probably,” I answered as Mr. D’s voice came on. “Oh…” was all I could say as the squeaky singing made my eardrums bleed.
It was funny for a couple songs but then it just got annoying so we switched over to a single Beatles album.
~
We reached the Canadian border in only a couple hours. Thanks to the Mist we could drive as fast as we wanted without fear of mortal cops.
As we pulled up to the gate, the guard switched. Must have been a shift change. I thought nothing of it as I rolled down the window. “Passports?” the guard tiredly asked. His eyes were shielded by sunglasses despite the fact that he was under shade. I became wary but handed him the documents anyway. “Any plants, animals, dairy products, or drugs in the car?” he asked.
“No,” I answered.
“What’s the nature of your quest, demigods?” The customs officer removed his sunglasses, revealing a single eye. He then grew about three feet, revealing a cyclops.
“Hit the gas!” Y/N yelled beside me. I did, taking off. Now we had both a cyclops and the Canadian border police after us as I crashed through the plastic gate that went up and down. I swerved around guards and other cars, getting up on sidewalks and surely ruining the paint job.
But up ahead I could see them closing a heavy looking gate. Gods on our side or not we weren’t getting through that gate. So I swerved into the trees. “Hold on!” they were sparse enough that the car could fit in between the trees. Glancing in the mirror, I could no longer see border guards. But there was a 9 foot tall cyclops following us in the distance. Which would be fine, he’d never catch up to the car but the woods were getting thicker and now I didn’t know which way was the road.
Nature made its decision for me as I heard Y/N’s scream. “Luke look out!” But it was too late. A violent force stopped us and the car was suddenly still. There was so much force I was half afraid the cyclops had a friend but I just found a tree in the middle of the hood where the engine used to be. “Run!” I told my girlfriend, frantically unbuckling my seatbelt.
I ran to the other side, finding her struggling with the seatbelt. She threw the duffle bag at me before pulling out her knife and cutting the seatbelt away. When she hopped out, I took her hand. We ran further into the trees, the cyclops’ thunderous footsteps right behind us.
“Luke, we can’t run forever,” she breathed. She was right. We’d run out of energy before that thing did.
I thought for a moment, thinking of how we’d kill this thing. “At that big tree,” I pointed to a huge pine tree right in our path, “split up. Then we’ll circle back around and hit him from the side.” She nodded in understanding. We ran full speed at the tree until we each turned on the balls of our feet, dashing out of the cyclops’ path. The plan worked better than expected because he ran face first into the solid pine tree.
He crumpled to the ground, giving me time to retrieve my sword from the duffle bag. By the time I looked up, Y/N was already dancing around the beast, cutting him up with her knife. I jumped in, giving him the same treatment. We worked as a flawless team, striking and giving the other space as needed. Until finally, she cut the thing’s heels, forcing him to the ground. I took the opportunity to stab him in the eye, leaving behind only a pile of shimmery ichor.
When he was gone, I immediately pulled Y/N in my arms. Even at the relative safety of camp, I always needed her in my arms to calm down after battle. To assure myself that she was still there and I was still alive. The sound of her breath in my ear helped ground me. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, you?” Her face was still buried in my shoulder.
“Yeah. Sorry I crashed the car.” She chuckled, pulling away from me.
“You’re forgiven. C’mon, let’s go see what supplies we can save and start walking.”
While the car was unsalvageable, all of our stuff was fine. So we grabbed out backpacks full of winter clothes and started following the map. It wasn’t that bad now but it’d be cold by the time night fell so I forced Y/N to put on sweatpants over her shorts.
I was kind of hoping the map would take us to civilization where we could rest for the night but it just seemed to bring us deeper into the forest and we had no flashlight. As it got darker and colder I got more nervous. “We have to find some sort of shelter for tonight.”
“I know it’s dark but it’s not that-” A pack of wolves howling cut her off. “Okay, yeah,” she agreed. She began looking around. “Any chance you could climb one of these trees? I don’t really want to be on the ground.”
I shook my head. “Even if I could get up high enough I don’t think any of the branches would support us.”
She huffed. “Shelter it is, I guess.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the wolves,” I teased. She had just killed a literal cyclops but she was afraid of some dogs.
“Hey, I don’t mess with wolves,” she said sternly. “After I saw that one movie about the kids stuck on the ski lift. You wouldn’t catch me in the woods at night yet here we are.”
“What about Capture the Flag?” I asked as we started collecting stuff to make a shelter.
“Well that’s different. There’s like 30 of us out there.”
“Do you want me to start sticking with you during the games? You know, if a wolf wanders in?” I teased.
“I’ll make my own shelter for tonight, thank you very much,” she said matter o’ factly.
“No, no, no. I’m sorry,” I apologized, tugging her back to me as she tried to storm off to get supplies. “Besides, we need each other’s body heat to keep us warm,” I whispered teasingly.
“Not a chance out here,” she scolded me.
“Worth a try,” I shrugged. “Everyone knows you can better preserve body heat if you’re not wearing clothes.” She just gave me an exasperated look before walking off again. “I’m joking!” I yelled after her.
By the time we had the shelter built up only about an hour had passed. We used pine needles to try to protect out bodies from the cold ground. And we used our winter coats as a blanket since we zipped them together. We laid down in the shelter, still shivering despite our best efforts. I held her close as she curled up against my chest, her head tucked under my chin. “Get some sleep,” I told her. “I’ll keep watch.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Wake me in a few hours and I’ll take over.” I agreed with absolutely no intentions of waking her up. Judging by how fast her breathing evened out despite her constant shivers, she needed the sleep more than me. In the morning she’d yell at me for not waking her but it was worth it.
~
We had only been walking for a few minutes when we came across sled dogs. Ten siberian huskies all laying around patiently, harnessed to a sled. “Maybe these were the wolv-”
“Shut up,” she warned, giving me a light smack against the shoulder. I laughed as she hesitantly approached the dogs. “Hey guys, you waiting for someone?” She slowly reached her hand out to one of the dogs who calmly sniffed it before licking it eagerly. She gave him some scratches behind the ear in return. “Awe you’re such a good boy.” The dogs were now all up, wagging their tails and whining for pets.
I went up to the sled, finding a satchel tied to it. Opening it I found dog treats and a note. “All good huntresses need a pack of wolves.” Underneath it was a crescent moon. I clenched my jaw, recognizing the sender of the gift. Her aunt, Artemis. Last year, during the winter solstice, Artemis and her hunters had visited briefly. One of the hunters, Zoe, befriended Y/N. And even after she had told them she had a boyfriend, they still tried to recruit her. It never sat right with me, the way Artemis seemed so okay with breaking up a relationship.
“It’s for you,” I told Y/N, handing her the note. I handed her the note and she took it. She just sighed before stuffing it back into the satchel. “I don’t know why she’s so determined to recruit you.”
“I don’t know either,” she said, already tying our stuff to the sled. “But she’s gonna be disappointed because I’m kind of really into this one guy. I don’t know if you know him but he’s the son of Hermes. He’s gonna be a great Greek hero.” Her praise was enough for me to let go of my anger. Stooping down, I pressed a kiss to her lips.
The pack of sled dogs was perfect for the Canadian wilderness except for one problem. There was no snow. Still, they managed to pull us so smoothly it was like snow.
Soon enough, we pulled up to a garden. If it weren’t for the fact that they were literally in the middle of nowhere, this garden would be unassuming. It had a white picket fence and looked to be about an acre. Thousands of different types of plants grew, enchanting us with its smell. Off in the distance, in the middle of the garden, I could faintly see the golden fruits, the sun glinting off of them.
“The nymphs never gave Heracles a problem,” Y/N shrugged. I nodded, cautiously opening the gate, sword in hand. She held the bow up, an arrow already knocked. A quiver of them were slung over her back.
We crept in quietly, watching for signs of danger. She would watch our surroundings and made sure no nymphs attacked us while I kept an eye on the multi-headed dragon, making sure he didn’t stir.
Once we were about 20 feet away, he still wasn’t stirring. Y/N kneeled down behind some greenery, lining up her arrow. She took aim and fired. The arrow bounced harmlessly off one of the many scale covered head. The beast didn’t so much as stir. She looked back at me, as if seeking assurance. I nodded, telling her to try again. But rather than just take aim again, she crept a little closer. I almost told her to get back but I was afraid the dragon would wake up at my yelling. I held my breath, heart pounding as she tried again. This time she sunk it right through the eyelid but before either of us could react, another head moved. It snapped at her, jaws clenching around her waist. My blood turned to ice as I heard her pained scream. It was so horrifying to hear my body seemed to turn to lead.
I needed to save her. I forced my body into a run. I slashed at the neck that was currently holding my girlfriend in the air. Ladon dropped her, not without a claw slashing at me in turn. I managed to dodge it, scrambling over to Y/N. I wasn’t even comprehending whether or not she was conscious or if she was alive. I was too busy trying to tug her away. Golden fucking apples be damned.
I reached her, grabbing her by her shoulders and trying to tug her to safety. But before I could make much progress, the beast’s claw was in my face again. But I noticed it too late this time, too focused on my girlfriend’s very pale face. The claw hit me in the face, sweeping me to the side. I couldn’t feel the pain but I could see the blood seeping into my vision. I tried to wipe it away but it just kept coming. With my non-blinded eye I could see Ladon going back to his prior position as if we were nothing. Like he wasted no energy maiming us. Nonetheless, it allowed me to grab her by the shoulders, shaking her awake.
“Y/N, we need to go!” I said frantically, worried he’d come back for round two if we didn’t get out soon. “Can you walk?” I looked down at her body and knew the answer. Her shirt was covering the extent of her wounds but teeth marks, each a few inches across, tore through her shirt and there was blood. So much blood.
“With help,” she said in a strangled voice.
“Okay, good,” I nodded. Her assurance eased me slightly. I slung her arm across my shoulder before pulling her up. She screamed as I raised her off the ground but nevertheless gritted her teeth and bore it.
“No!” she cried as I tried to wrap my arm around her to support her weight. I realized that in doing so I’d be pressing into her wounds. She sobbed in pain the entire time we slowly stumbled out of the garden. It pained me to hear her cries but I had to get her out of here. If I could just get her to the sled I could give her some ambrosia and she’d be fine.
When I finally got her outside the gate, I laid her down. I’d get her onto our transportation once she wasn’t in such a critical condition. “Hold on, I’ll get you some ambrosia,” I told her, moving toward the sled. But the weakest tug held me back.
I looked down at her, finding blood, sweat, and tears covering her face. “No,” she cried. Tears were pouring down her face as sobs wracked her body. “Ambrosia won’t help.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” I held her face. Oh, her beautiful face. My heart clenched seeing it twisted in agony. “You’re gonna be fine. I promised you. I’m not a liar…” Tears were falling down my face now. She’s not fine. I realized that I’d become an unknowing liar.
Her hand reached up to my face, her thumb swiping over my blood covered cheek. “You’re not a liar. We were doomed from the start.” She took a labored breath and deep inside, I knew it was the end for her.
“Come on, no. Don’t leave. Please don’t leave,” I cried. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my lap. As if physically holding on to her would keep her from slipping through my fingers like the wind. “Just hold on until I can get you to a hospital.”
“We don’t have time.” A small smile tugged at her face and I knew she was smiling through the pain for my sake. “I love you, Luke. Promise me you’ll move on?”
“What? No. You know I won’t. You’re the love of my life,” I insisted.
“Please, at least try?” she asked. “I don’t want you following me too soon,” she tried to joke. But her laugh turned into pained sobs as the movement hurt her body.
I cried harder seeing her in so much pain. Her breathing was getting shallower and more labored. “Fine, I’ll try,” I swore. Lie. “I love you. So much.”
“I’ll see you in Elysium,” she said through a peaceful smile. It would be a welcome sight if it weren’t for the blood bubbling up out of her mouth. I turned her to the side slightly so she wouldn’t choke on it but it wasn’t enough. The blood was coming faster and her body was shutting down. “I love you,” she whispered before her eyes fluttered shut.
“No, wake up!” I cried, shaking her slightly. “Wake up!” Her breaths were getting shorter and I was getting more desperate. “Do something!” I yelled up at the sky. Her father. My father. Anyone! But no one came. Her wounds didn’t stitch themselves together and her eyes didn’t open. I held her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder long after she stopped breathing. Even the dogs started howling at the gods when her heart stopped beating.
~~~
“That’s why I hate the gods,” I murmured to Percy, watching the scorpion slowly creep up his leg. “They finally granted me a quest. It was all I ever wanted. But it was a joke. All my father wanted to do was piss off Hera and he was okay with using me and my girlfriend as collateral damage. And her father, Apollo,” the name came out of his mouth like venom, “the god of prophecy and healing let his daughter die. He knew she was going to die, even before the quest. And when he had the opportunity to save her, he ignored her.”
“I’m sorry she died but-”
“No!” I cut Percy off. “It would be one thing if she just died but she died over a fucking prank war. She died an agonizing death. Her aunt, Artemis, intervened in our quest but she still let her niece die a slow, painful death. They didn’t even help me bring her back to camp so she could be buried properly. I had to bury her in the woods like I had killed her and was covering up a crime.” I swiped away a tear as I noticed it slip down my face. I still couldn’t decide what was worse. Feeling her die in my arms or leaving her out there in the woods to rot. “And to make matters worse, no one seemed to care that she died. When I finally got back to camp a month later, they just pitied me. I begged Chiron to let me and some others go get her so we could give her a proper funeral but he refused. And when I tried to get others to join me to convince him, no one would go. After a couple days no one seemed to care that Y/N L/N was dead. A week later, another Apollo camper was claimed and they just gave her bunk away to him. Like she meant nothing.”
“But why Kronos? I’ve never heard of a demigod turning away from the gods. Even when horrible things happened.”
I sighed in contentment, remembering the projection he showed me. “Because he can bring her back. We’ll be immortal and without pain forever. He showed her to me. He said she’s happy in Elysium but she misses me,” I smiled softly. “But she misses camp too,” I laughed bitterly. “Annabeth, Grover, she probably would’ve missed you had you two met. But she never got the opportunity. But now, with Kronos, I’ll get to give her everything she wants.” I looked over at the kid. He seemed so deep in thought I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “Goodbye Percy,” I said as I stood.
“I’ll tell everyone at camp about you!” he called after me.
“If you make it. Pit scorpion venom will kill you in 60 seconds. Even if you do make it, I’ll still be long gone.”
~~~
I sunk the blade into my Achilles heel, destroying Kronos’ life source inside me. I laughed as I could feel him leaving me. And continued to laugh as I fell to the ground and felt my own life draining out of me. Looking up, I found Annabeth above me, her curls hanging in my face. “I’m gonna see Y/N,” was all I said.
Tears welled in her eyes as I felt her comforting hand stroke my hair. “Yeah you are. I know how much you missed her.”
“I’ll see you there too,” I promised her, just like Y/N promised me.
~
I stood in front of the Judges of the Underworld. I knew I messed up in my life but my sacrifice had to amount to something. And I had to get to Elysium. “Luke Castellan,” Minos read my name. “You are charged with… starting a war against the gods?” he read in disbelief. “Why were you not immediately sentenced to the Fields of Punishment?” If I still had a heart it’d be in my feet right now. I couldn’t go to the Fields of Punishment. “You should have cut your losses and taken the express line to the Fields of Asphodel.”
“Keep reading,” Rhadamanthus said, not even looking up from the papers.
Minos rolled his eyes but kept going. “Oh, you sacrificed yourself, killing Kronos and saving Olympus and all of humanity. Hmm. Well, you did still start a war with the gods.”
Aeacus leaned over. “Minos, this really is more of a formality than anything. All the gods have already given him a pass.”
Minos huffed. “Fine,” he picked up a gold gavel, “Elysium!” he declared.
Before I could even thank him I was transported into what looked like the Apollo cabin. It was strange, I knew this was supposed to be the Apollo cabin but it didn’t have all the bunks. It looked like a normal house but something about it felt so familiar. I looked around, realizing I was standing in the living room. This must be Y/N’s house, it even smelled like her. Decorating the walls were pictures of her and her friends and siblings. But on the mantle and side tables were pictures of us. I picked one up, noticing the fingerprint markings all over it. She must pick it up a lot.
Looking around, I found glass French doors in the kitchen that led outside. The view was breathtaking. Mountains rose up on either side of the bluest lake I had ever seen. I went outside, intending to enjoy the view. As I stepped outside I could smell fresh air and feel a perfect breeze. “Hey stranger,” a voice came from beside me. I turned, immediately letting out a choked sob as I saw her sitting there. She stood, coming to me and I immediately snatched her into my arms. She shushed me, stroking my back as I sobbed in her shoulder. “You came way earlier than I wanted but I’m glad to see you.”
I pulled away so I could see her face. The blood, sweat, and tears were gone. It was just her beautiful, perfect face. “You’re actually here,” I said, reaching a hand up to her face. I was terrified she’d disappear again just like she did when Kronos showed her to me in my dreams.
“I’m here. And so are you,” she smiled. “We’ll be immortal and without pain forever,” she swore.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Luke.”
~
Decades later we were opening our door to see Percy and Annabeth standing there. “Y/N!” Annabeth cried, jumping into my wife’s arms.
“Hey Annabeth!” she laughed, clutching the woman in a hug.
I looked over to Percy, finding him with smile lines and salt and pepper hair. “Hey cuz,” I smiled, extending my hand. Percy shook it and pulled me into a hug which I returned. I patted him on the back as I pulled away. “You know you can look any age you want here? You don’t have to be an old man.”
“I’m not an old man,” he insisted. “I was 80. Just anything older than 16 year old me looks old to you.”
I shrugged, he wasn’t wrong. I turned to Annabeth, giving her a hug too.
Y/N took Percy’s hand. “Percy, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Everyone from camp whose already here has said great things.”
He smiled at her. “I’ve heard the same about you,” he returned, glancing at me. “Well we brought blue cake for dessert.”
Masterlist
A/N Omg this is quite possibly the angstiest thing I've ever written. But it also has one of my favorite endings. Thanks for requesting this, I really enjoyed writing it
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neocitybooty · 5 months
Text
Honey, I'm home. [M]
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Summary: Your husband is constantly away but he makes up for it once he returns.
Genre: Smut, Aged up (early 30s)
Characters: Mark Lee, femme reader
Word count: 1.3k
Warnings: unprotected sex, bodily fluids
A/N: Just some more Mark brainrot. This is also a treat because I've been so busy with life. I'm going to continue with my ongoing fics after this :)
You felt movement from the other side of the bed and a pair of arms wrapping around your waist, shortly after. You slowly blinked out of your sleep and stirred as you were greeted by the moonlight.
It was late.
You waited until midnight, but your husband, Mark…He didn’t show.
Disappointment was no foreign concept to you and it seemed to be a recurring theme in your marriage. You knew it wasn’t Mark's fault and you were well aware of what marrying him would mean for you. The kind of life you would live. Wealthy and pampered… but hidden.
No public posts. No public dates. Lonely birthdays. Lonely holidays.
At least for the time being.
But you loved him. And you knew he loved you too. Some things just couldn’t be helped.
“Babe..” Mark whispered softly in your ear. The familiar and innocent tone was enough to cause your lips to tug upward. You turned your body to wrap your arms and leg around him.
He chuckled and squeezed you tighter as you both buried your faces into each other’s neck.
“Yeah, I missed you too.” Mark said into your neck as he slid his hand into your shorts and softly rubbed your bare ass cheek. He gave it a firm squeeze before finally kissing you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt the warm flesh against your own. He pulled away but you immediately kissed him again.
He looked at you with a puzzled look on his face and you couldn’t help but caress his cheek as the cheekbone rose at a slant and his amused eyes twinkled underneath the moonlight.
“You want to do this right now?” Mark asked you. His voice was low and raspy. Taunting. He knew what you wanted. Because he wanted it too.
You didn’t get a chance to answer. Mark was already pulling off your shorts before you could process your thoughts.
A few hours prior, you were upset. You were complaining to your sister about missing out on yet another holiday because your husband wasn’t in town. You would be going to bed alone, with nothing but an “I love you” to keep you from reaching the brink of insanity. It was reassuring, but it just wasn’t enough. His physical presence was what you truly longed for.
Mark told you…. He told you….you wouldn’t spend Valentine’s day alone this year.
And yet...
You did. But in this moment, you believed a strike against him wouldn’t be fair. In the end, you would be falling asleep in his arms.
“I’m sorry I got back so late, baby. I rushed here as fast as I could.” He softly said into your ear, his tone genuinely apologetic.
You moaned in response as he slipped your lace underwear off of you. A trail of warm kisses decorated your neck as his fingers found his way between your legs. You kept your arms wrapped around his neck and shifted your head so you could kiss him deeply. You were now on your side and draped your leg over him once again.
You gasped and went stiff when you felt Mark’s fingers intrude your wet hole, his thumb gently rubbing your nub. The both of you could hear the squelching of your fluids as he found a steady rhythm. You let out a loud moan as your hips started to gyrate against his fingers.
“Shh, baby. You’re going to wake up the neighbors.” Mark kissed behind your ear and muttered a curse underneath his breath. “Just focus on me.”
Oh how you've missed this.
He brought his lips back to your's and you grew more aroused as your hips and tongue moved along with Mark’s fingers as he continued to slowly move his digits inside of you. You could feel his smile against your lips each time your body would tense up and you would clench around his fingers. But your mind was preoccupied with the taste of his hungry lips.
His kisses were urgent. Needy. Every kiss was as passionate as the last and you only wanted more.
He finally removed his fingers and you felt as though you were breathing for the first time. You heavily exhaled and moaned softly as your hips rolled, the feeling of emptiness becoming unbearable.
“Shiit.” Mark examined his glistening fingers. In awe at the amount of fluid that transferred. “You missed me this much? I can’t wait to show you how much I've missed you.” He bit his lip and gently pulled you onto him, slowly moving his hips as you straddled him.
You felt his hard cock underneath you and it finally dawned on you that Mark had been naked the entire time. He moaned softly when his tip made contact with your wet opening and you reacted by grabbing it and squatting right above it.
Mark reached over to the nightstand and turned on the dim lamp. You smiled at him once the light revealed his features. He responded with a warm smile that reached his eyes and gave you a nod. He did always love to watch.
You held eye contact with him as you slowly lowered yourself, letting his member disappear into your wet core. You gasped as you felt yourself stretching to accommodate his size after months of using alternatives that just didn’t measure up.
Mark whimpered underneath you and slid a hand up into your shirt to fondle a breast. You put your hand over his and started to ride him. Mark let out a breath as his eyes rolled back and he sank even lower into his pillow. You lifted yourself again and lowered slowly enough for you to savor the feeling. You let out a soft moan as you felt yourself getting wetter as the movement grew easier.
“Fuckkk.” Mark shook his head softly and bit his lip again. "Baby, I'm going insane…." Mark could barely finish the sentence before a quiet moan took over. His eyes shut tighter as his fingers dug deeper into your flesh. You yelped when he suddenly started fucking into you. You leaned forward, eventually switching from your feet to your knees, and rested your hand on his chest, a familiar sensation forming in your lower region.
“Are you close, baby? Wait for me. Let’s finish together, yeah?” Mark breathed out as he continued pounding into you. He pulled you into his chest and held your hands behind your back, by the wrists. His eyebrows scrunched together as he began to concentrate so he could last longer- but you began to shake.
“Oh babe no, wait.” Mark whined and gently flipped you over so he was on top. You moaned as he repositioned himself while still inside of you. He filled you up in ways you never thought possible,
You squirmed underneath him as months of pent up sexual frustration surged through Mark’s body. He plunged deeper into you with a long grunt and you instinctively held onto him.
“You take it so well.” He grunted into your ear as he pinned each hand to the sides of your head. He nuzzled his chin into your neck and exhaled as your entire body moved in unison with his thrusts. “I’m so close, baby. Oh fuck..”
You wrapped your legs around him as he stiffened and groaned. You felt the warmth of his seed spill into you as Mark rested on you.
He sighed and propped himself up to look at you with a smile.
“I didn’t finish…” You said softly.
“I've gathered….give me a few minutes and I’ll take care of it.” Mark said as he held eye contact with you. A small smile formed on his lips as he started to caress your cheek.
“Can you do that thing that I like?” You asked him shyly.
Mark let out a small laugh and kissed you. “We’re gonna need a towel.”
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peachsayshi · 9 months
Text
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni)  ↬・tags: heartbreaking kind of angst; pining; reader is gojo’s sister; geto has tattoos; au; age gap; reader is twenty two and geto is twenty seven; mentions of alcohol
⥽ notes: keeping this open ended because I may write more on this. 
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ older brother’s best friend geto x female reader (inspired by this post) ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
your heart refuses to steady herself as she continues beating erratically, knocking against your ribs and begging for release. you’ve waited patiently for her to return to normal, but she sings even louder as you push her to the of her back of your mind, chanting on and on about a love that she refuses to remain silent about. 
it’s been weeks since the kiss; days where you spent countless nights wide awake while thinking about suguru. when you close your eyes, the memory plays back like a dream, the feel of his lips etched perfectly in your mind as familiar as the air you breath. 
he was so slow, so gentle; guiding you with patience while sweetly explaining what to do with your lips and tongue. he whisked away your nerves with the brush of his tender hand, trailing it slowly to the back of your neck to hold you in place. you expected him to pull away once you got the hang of it, but instead he continued exploring.
it made your stomach flutter, stirring a heat deep within your core that made you a little lightheaded. 
your own nervous hands reached to hold him by his strong shoulders, the touch resulting in suguru to swing his free arm around your waist and pull you right up against his chest. 
god, he was strong, you could feel it in the grip of his palm and the way he maneuvered you around like a rag doll. 
minutes might have passed, but you could barely count the seconds once you felt his weight collapse onto you. you were trapped underneath his broad chest, legs slowly intertwining around his hips as he pinned you horizontally onto the sofa. 
you were buzzing from head to toe, tingling fingers reaching for the strands of his beautiful mane. then there was the roll of his hips, moving at a graceful pace, pressing the heavy weight of his erection right up against your jeans. 
you whimpered, pulling away from his lips for a moment to pant out his name. 
you felt him grow still, tangled between your limbs as if registering the moment himself. he dropped his head down to your shoulder, mumbling a curse under his breath before carefully pulling himself back upright. 
“shit, uh...” he exhaled, a hint of shame masking his ever so handsome face. “I didn’t mean to get carried away.” 
you didn’t know what to say; a part of you was desperate for him to continue, to  familiarize yourself with desire in every capacity, but instead you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and mumbled “it’s alright,” quietly. 
you haven’t seen suguru since - not alone, at least. 
the two of you stayed in touch with the occasional calls and texts, but you’ve been itching for a repeat of that moment once again. 
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
tonight is your chance, and your heart won't stop pounding. 
despite knowing everybody at suguru’s birthday party, you still can’t help but feel isolated from the crowd. you were standing in the corner, trying your best to remain cool as you carried on your conversation with shoko and utahime.
you were holding your purse protectively close to your chest, securing the small but neatly wrapped present inside. your eyes kept glancing to the rest of the party, scanning over your brother’s loud personality taking up most of the space in the room, and trying to find his quiet, dark haired counterpart. 
your cheeks grow scorchingly hot when you accidentally made eye contact with suguru. 
you quickly turned away, taking a sip of your drink to cool yourself off. 
he looked unfairly good tonight. his hair tucked away in a perfect bun and he dressed to mirror the striking night sky in all back. you envied how he effortlessly carried himself, not a single ounce of uneasiness wavering his confidence.
still, you didn’t want to come across as desperate, wanting to uphold the same level of aloofness that he did about the kiss.
it’s a casual thing, you kept repeating to yourself but your heart fought back with a convincing rebuttal.
you were grateful that you were able to play the wallflower tonight, finding moments of solitude to yourself just to recollect your thoughts. you managed to slip away from the crowd for a moment, and headed over to the kitchen. 
just as you opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water, you heard a honeyed voice speak from behind you.
“hey, you” 
you almost backed up right against the fridge as you turned on your heel when suguru walked towards you, your knees instantly buckling from the nerves.
you glanced around the room and realized that there was no one else around.
you finally earned your moment alone with him. 
you felt like a teenager staring up at the beautiful boy you knew you could never have, but you mustered up a single string of confidence to share a lovely smile and greet him with an eager “hello”.
there’s a look in his dark eyes, one of recognition and intrigue that sends a tingle up your spine. you shift anxiously from one foot to the next, clutching onto your water bottle as he reaches for a beer. 
he cracks it open against the table, and you can’t help but clench your thighs as you noticed how his muscles tense, causing the veins in his forearms to protrude slightly against his intricate tattoos.
he holds your shy gaze once more, taking a sip of his beer before offering the bottle to you. 
“want some?” 
you politely shake your head no, and in turn he just smiles. 
“not your thing?” 
“I’m not a fan of the taste - it’s too bitter” 
“hmm, quite understandable coming from someone so sweet” 
his comment left you speechless, left you standing there with parted lips and a slightly dumbstruck expression. 
of course, suguru notices, and he finds the opportunity to sew up the dividing space separating you both. 
“you look nice,” he compliments, doing very little to help the blood pumping heavily into your ears. 
you look down at your outfit - the one you carefully pieced together like a complicated puzzle.
your heart is giddy, skipping over itself with excitement that suguru even noticed. 
you squeeze the bottle against your sweaty palms, hoping that your flushed expression wouldn’t make itself obviously known. 
“thank you,” you reply coyly. “satoru said I was overdressed...” 
“I think we both you know that your brother is a bit of an idiot,” suguru remarks with a quirk of his brow, “don’t take everything he says to heart” 
it killed you how easily you swooned, posing as a weak challenger when in combat against him. 
you laugh under your breath, your shaky hand placing the water bottle back onto the counter. you fold your arms close to your chest, trying your best to to even out your courage as you find his eyes once more. 
“I don’t,” you reassure him before gently reaching to tug at his soft black tee, “happy birthday, by the way. I-I- didn’t really get a chance to say it properly yet,” 
suguru nods his head politely in acknowledgement, “thank you, I’m glad you came tonight...”
“you are?” you ask a little too hopefully, a little too earnestly from how your brows upturn with curiosity. 
“of course,” he states matter of factly, “you’re just as important to me as everyone else in the room” 
his words send a tremor down to the space between your legs. you can literally feel yourself throbbing for him, and the way your eyes glaze over with a filter of pretty pink hearts is evidence that you didn’t need any alcohol to inebriate you when he was doing the job all by himself.
“I got you something-” you whispered, but your voice was drowned out by yuki. 
“oi, did you disappear with our beers, suguru?” 
“no, sorry,” the man replied, ripping apart the tension by casually grabbing a couple more bottles in his hand. “I’ll be right there...” 
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
as the night was drawing to a close, you were starting to feel more and more like a fish out of water. shoko’s home was now filled with friends and associates, each person moving between the crowd like they simply just belonged there.
being the youngest person in the room, you felt wildly out of place. you check the clock just one more time, before deciding it would be best to end the night…but not before you give suguru his present. 
you informed satoru of your departure, to which he asked utahime to offer you a ride home. 
“text me the minute you are back at your place, alright?” your brother insisted with a protective tone. 
“I will”
“I just have to use the bathroom before we head out,” utahime informed as she reached for her own purse. 
“that’s fine, but, uhm...do you have any idea where suguru went? I just want to say bye...” 
“I saw him stepping outside for a smoke with his friends...just be mindful of the one with blue hair...” she explained. “I’ll meet you by my car when you’re ready okay, sweets?” 
you nodded your head. 
you kept an eye out for him as you traveled through the crowd, holding the gift protectively between your fingers. there was a tightness in your belly from the building tension, but you were hopeful that he would like the present that you thoughtfully picked out for him. 
sliding one of the glass windows open, you stepped out into shoko’s garden. the stone pathway was lit up with candles, radiating the many shades of green around you, but as your eyes scanned the scene an audible gasp left your lips when your heart froze. 
when finally, after weeks of conducting it’s own music, it stopped beating.
there was suguru - his back up against the wall and his arms around someone else.
one hand was digging into the fabric of her purple dress, the other tangled around her light hair as their lips locked in a heated kiss…and they were completely engrossed in one another. 
you couldn’t move, you couldn’t even breathe - it’s not the first time you’ve seen suguru kissing somebody else, but this particular one paralyzed you then shattered you into a million little pieces on the floor. 
your fingers and toes went numb, your bottom lip trembling uncontrollably as you found the strength to turn back around with hot tears pricking your eyes. you wiped the rogue ones that fell down your cheeks, aimlessly meandering through the crowd as you hastily make your way over to utahime’s car. 
all the while thinking how stupid, how so incredibly foolish, you are for falling for someone so far out of your league.
for loving a man who was completely unattainable to you.
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badingsm · 3 months
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Part VI — Lovemaking, Family, Romanoff
Pwede na yung same-sex marriage sa PH, sabi ko.
Warnings: Mentions of childhood trauma, abandonment, some kink (?), BADLY written smut, cursing, INACCURATE translations! Plus, forgive me with the first few scenes, I don't normally write those so...
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"Y/n..." Natasha chomped her bottom lip, trying to draw out some air with each hard breath she took. "Please, baby, I need to-"
"Hold it," You commanded sternly, whimpering as you took Natasha's enormous length, which was huge for your tight little core. "You don't get to come until you make me squirt, are we clear?"
"Hmffghn." A single tear streamed down her left cheek while she fought her hardest not to let herself go inside you, as you had ordered.
Her length was repeatedly pumped into you, and you quickened your pace when you felt something weird yet familiar building up in the pit of your stomach, and you kept repeating your motions with treble efforts until you felt something explode from you.
"Can I... can I cum now? Please, baby?" Natasha exhaled sharply.
"Beg."
"I want to give you my children, breed you over and over again, and make love with you until you pass out—please, please—Oh, fuck! Detka, please-"
"Cum," You finally ordered, your sensitive core moving once again, making you groan with pleasure and ecstasy. Natasha then quickened her rhythm, seeking her own climax, when suddenly, just as she was about to cum, she was startled awake by a pillow striking her in the head, forcing her to wake up with a hazy mind.
"Wet fantasy, Romanoff?" You grinned, leaning seductively against the pillow in your head. You decided to taunt her and mimic her words in her sleep earlier when you noticed her heated state, "Please, please, please.."
"Fuck off!" Natasha glared. She cannot, for the life of her, look you in the eyes right now because she is embarrassed and ashamed of herself.
"I mean, it's hot, but-" Before you could continue your thought, you heard a knock on the door, followed by your Lola's and Mama's voices.
You jumped up and kicked all the sheets and pillows beneath the queen-sized bed before settling up next to Natasha. You attempted the cuddling position, with Natasha being the bigger spoon from behind, but then you felt something poke your ass, causing you to move away.
"What the fuck is that?!" You exclaimed, wide-eyed at her.
"It's morning!" Natasha explained sheepishly, grabbing a cushion to place between your lower bodies before snuggling you again. When you heard another knock from outside, you grabbed the nearest book and opened it, pretending to read as you let them in.
"Well, well, well." Your Lola smirked. "Did we disturb something?"
"Haha, like what?" You questioned nervously.
"I mean, come on, your cheeks are both flushed. The book that you're reading is upside down. Both of your bottom bodies are covered… So what? How many Apo can you give me before I die, huh? I want a dozen, please. It's your gift for me on my birthday, yeah?"
You flushed violently at Lola's remark, hurling the book back into the corner before clearing your throat as if you weren't embarrassed at the moment. "Morning, Lola and Mama, what are you doing here so, um, haha, early?"
Lola stepped forward, "Well, I want to request something from the both of you."
"Well, anything, please." You urged her to go on.
"I want you to get married tomorrow—on my birthday! Isn't that great?!"
Natasha became anxious since you haven't spoken about the wedding yet, saying, "But we don't have a venue yet! We haven't prepared anything properly. Plus, we don't want to ruin your moment!"
"It's fine, we've set that up already in the barn where we, the Y/l/n family, all got married! It's like a tradition now." Lola cleared up, "And I've already had 89 birthday parties; I don't need another one!"
What do we do? You and Natasha exchanged glances quietly because you both got caught off guard.
"I'll treat your silence as a yes! Anyways, we already booked the wedding planners, and they would organize everything so you don't have to worry about anything anymore. In the meantime, we have to borrow Natasha for her fitting, yeah?"
Silence is never an indication of yes. Because silence means contemplating between yes and no, and it will never be a yes as long as there is a potential for no.
God.
"I… can we have breakfast first?" You cringed, looking for an excuse to speak with Natasha alone.
"Oh, yeah! We brought some palabok and pandesal."
"I made the pandesal." Your father barged in, "I wanna say sorry, Y/n. It's a foul move on my side."
"Thank you, Pa." You smiled, relieved that you wouldn't have to argue with him for the rest of the day. "So... may we eat?"
"Yes." They all responded, smiling as they walked away, leaving your Lola to smirk playfully one more time, making you giggle cheekily till they shut the door.
"What the fuck just happened?" You stated, scratching your tired face as your mind raced, but it all faded as Natasha's warm hands massaged your shoulders, relaxing you with her warm breaths against your ear in her serene presence.
"It's okay," She repeated like a mantra to soothe your panic, even if she needed some comfort herself. "We'll get married and divorce quickly as soon as I get done with my visa issues."
"Yeah," You agreed, then looked her in the eyes.
You become lost in her labyrinth of green orbs as you browse over her facial features with just enough precision to make them flawless in your eyes. The way they flicker and flash against the sunshine streaming through your room's windows and the way they transmit some unknown message to you as if trying to tell you something vital had you staring, and honestly, you could look at them for an eternity.
"But for now, let's eat," Natasha stated, pulling you out of your reverie and offering you the dishes that your family had prepared. "I wouldn't want my fiancé to find another woman just because I didn't feed her, right?"
You chuckled unsurely at that.
-
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Natasha cursed repeatedly underneath her breath as she escaped the house. She wandered around, trying to breathe in some fresh air to clear her mind. "It's not real. I'm not—love is for children, Natasha, stop this-"
She's denying it.
She doesn't want to get hurt.
She was protecting herself.
Except that she's not.
In fact, she's putting herself more on the verge of pain since she's not acknowledging her feelings, and that can cause a lot of damage for her.
"Please stop this-" Natasha came to a halt in the middle of the road when she noticed Lola in the center of the roadway. She had one hand on a megaphone and was grinning from ear to ear.
"Makinig kayong lahat!" (Everybody, listen!) Lola declared over the speaker. "Ipinatawag ko kayong lahat rito upang imbitahan kayo sa kasal ng aking pinakamamahal na Apo!" (I've called for your attention today because I want to invite you all to my beloved granddaughter's wedding!)
Natasha couldn't understand anything, but she obtained the answer to her questions when everyone around them clapped, especially when she made eye contact with your grandma.
She realized she was in a fucked-up position.
"Natasha, come here, please!"
She complied. "Yeah?"
"This beautiful lady right here is my Apo's manok! Everyone, meet Natasha Ganda!"
Everyone seems to adore her as they chant her name, oblivious to the fact that the people of NYC despise her guts and probably want her dead every time they see her in the office acting bossy and shit.
"Mabuhay si Natasha!" (Long live Natasha!)
"Mabuhay!" (Long live!)
"Luh patay na nga e." (Eh, she's dead already, right?) The author laughed as she ate a burger inside her hospital room since she is stubborn and refuses to take her meds.
Your author flu away!
-
"Oh," Your mother asserted as Natasha exited the dressing room. "You look so... perfect."
The redhead stood there, dressed in a modest yet magnificent white bridal gown passed down from generation to generation.
"I might need to loosen up some parts," Lola replied, looking at the bottom of the garment as Natasha blushed and covered her bump with her hands.
"No need to be shy around us, Apo," Lola smirked before delicately removing the necklace Natasha had never seen her without.
Your mother cried when Lola placed the necklace that meant so much to her around Natasha's neck, perfectly fitting it there.
"Take this." Lola smiled. "Take care of it like you're going to take care of my only Apo."
"I can't—no, please, Lola.." Nat shook her head, a lump growing in her throat as she felt guilty for all of this act. She realized how wonderful you and your family are, and yet here she is, ruining everything by lying to those people who accepted her despite her flaws.
She never had this.
Her mother had abandoned her at an early age, and her father was unknown to everybody. That's why she was forced to be alone. Then, at the age of 11, she was adopted, and this was a critical moment for her since her adoptive father (Dreykov) was cruel to her. It was at that point that she realized how to be strong and remembered her previous mother's words to her: Pain only makes us stronger.
That enabled her to cope.
Despite the odds and circumstances she had to face, she has made it to this day.
So having someone care for her, love her, give her pleasant things, or say something lovely about her was tremendously overwhelming.
"Take it, please," Lola pleaded.
"I can't," Natasha answered, biting her lip and fighting back tears. "I can't do that. It's yours, and I can't take it-"
"Yes, you can. It's a gift from me, dear."
"You're a family now," Your mother butted in, wiping her teary cheeks. "Plus! It's bad to refuse blessings, you know?"
"I do know that, yes." Nat sniffed quietly, nodding against her will. "Please know that I'm beyond grateful... You don't know how much."
"You're very welcome, dear."
-
"Hey! Where have you been? I bought you some street foods for you, and they're on the table-"
"I forgot, okay?" Natasha yelled randomly as she barged inside your shared room. You were playing your PS5 on the couch in front of your bed. "I forgot!"
"You forgot what?!" You asked, extremely confused.
"How it feels to—to love and be loved at the same time! God, this is pathetic, but it's scary as fuck!"
You stood on the couch when you heard someone sniffing behind you.
Natasha stood there, her eyes bloodshot and her lips quivering as she clutched herself tightly, as if to protect her small frame. Her stance was rigid, and her jaw was so tightly clamped that you were frightened it might shatter soon—she was shaking, and you didn't hesitate to grasp her in your warm arms.
She was apprehensive at first (locked in her place), but she felt powerless with no one to lean on, so she eventually caved.
"It's okay," You whispered, rubbing her back soothingly. "It might feel overwhelming right now, but you have to know that you deserve to feel all of this. To have a family beside you—ready to fight with you and all. Nat, we're here."
"I feel so horrible for lying," She murmured, pawing your shirt. "They were so kind and gentle and beautiful—I don't deserve that."
"Shh, you do, Nat, you do." You reassured, "It's okay. Let it out."
"Thank you," Natasha mumbled against your shoulder after breaking down for a good while.
"You're always welcome."
Perhaps it's the warmth that you provided or the thought that she has a family now that made her cower away, but nonetheless, after her crying and embarrassing (for her) session with you, she ate and waited until it was bedtime.
After she made sure that everyone was deeply asleep..
She left.
She left for good.
For your good.
As well as your family's.
Because if you love someone, you need to set them free.
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exhuastedpigeon · 24 days
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Buddie Hiatus Fic Recs - Month 4 August 16 - Sept 15
I think is my favourite rec list for this little project so far. It has some of my all time favourite Buddie fics on it, fics that I've read over and over again because they just bring me so much joy.
Previous lists linked at the bottom!
0-5k
here (in your arms) by devirnis / @devirnis Explicit | 2.3k I have had THE WORST day. When I finally get home, I’m going to pass out and sleep like a rock, and then I want to wake up with you inside me.
the art of peeling mandarins for the one you love by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Teen | 3.9k Buck asks Eddie to marry him in the kitchen, of all places.
5k-10k
but i've got my teeth in you by oklahoma / @sunshinediazTeen | 5.5k bad things happen bingo—tooth knocked out
you're the cream in my coffee by 42hrb Explicit | 8.6k Buddie coffee shop AU where everything is different, but they’re still idiots in love
wood you be mine? by MonsterRae1 / @monsterrae1 Mature | 9k the Lumberjack Buck fic.
10k-20k
With Great Power Comes Great Pining by Princessfbi / @princessfbi Teen | 10.4k It was the lightning strike. That had to be it. It was the only logical conclusion. Though, when it comes to being able to suddenly read people’s minds, Buck supposed there wasn’t a whole lot of logic involved.
endless numbered days by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Gen | 13.1k When a big event in the lives of the members of the 118 falls on the same weekend as Bobby's late son's birthday, Bobby finds himself reflecting on grief, fatherhood, and life after loss. 
The Scroll of Saint Barnabas by Amiril / @runawaymarbles Mature | 15k The day of the shooting, Eddie got stuck in a time loop. But that was three months ago. He's completely fine now.
Say Yes, and Figure It Out Afterwards by catwalksalone Explicit | 13.3k Buck and Eddie figure out a mutually beneficial way to deal with the first responder post-trauma cycle of up-horny-down.
Share the Joy by TalkNerdyToMe6 Teen | 14.2k After the lightning strike, Buck discovers he has more than just the ability to do long division in his head. Every time he touches Eddie, everything the other man is feeling moves through him like a wave of emotion, there and gone again. Buck can’t decide if that’s a blessing or a curse.
20k - 30k
light through the wave tips by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) / @bvckandeddie Explicit | 21.9k When Buck and Eddie planned a vacation with their kids over a year ago, they hadn’t exactly planned on bringing a seven-month-old baby along with them. Surely wrangling three kids can't be too much of a challenge—that is, if it weren't for Christopher's steadily worsening mood.
Cutting The Ties That Bind by kristen999 / @thekristen999 Mature | 34.4k Evan Buckley was a businessman, he had meetings and deadlines like everyone else. Sometimes he used intimation. While using the very same tactics he was trying to end while converting his family business into legitimate operations was a little hypocritical, it was the results that mattered.
Occasionally, he got threatened, but it was usually all hot air and ego. That all changed the day his breaks were tampered with. Enter Eddie Diaz, security specialist, who was not easily impressed by Buck’s expensive suits or financial conquests. That was okay. Buck enjoyed a challenge.
30k +
family (portrait) by ProsperDemeter / @prosperdemeter2 Teen | 45.1k realizing that the family that you need has been beside you all along.
like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Explicit | 51.1k evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home
Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Teen | 79.8 Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica
what a heart can do by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) / @bvckandeddie Teen | 85.5k In which Buck becomes the guardian of the daughter he never knew he had. Together, they discover what happiness truly means to them.
Month 1 (May 15 - June 15) Month 2 (June 16 - July 15) Month 3 (July 16 - August 15)
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sins0fthefather · 18 days
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Wrath.
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Jeff the Killer HCs:
General HCs:
Full Name: Jeffrey Alexander Woods (Only responds to Jeff though. Best case scenario if you call him his full name is he’ll ignore you, worst case scenario is him flipping his shit on you)
Age: 22-25 (Based on where in the story a character study/fic takes place)
Birthday: September 22 (Older than Liu by 2 years)
Wasian— Father is Chinese, mother is a born n’ raised Texan
Biromantic, Demisexual
Has autism, C-PTSD, BPD (contributor to his auditory hallucinations), NPD, ASPD, and BDD
Right Handed
6’1 (185~ cm)
Covered in burn scars, most noticeably on his chest, forearms, and back
He uses white facepaint, it makes his face’s silhouette look “cleaner” in his eyes
His cuts have healed up for the most part, although he’ll have moments where he relapses and cuts at them again. The ends will also sometimes tear if he does something like laugh too hard.
Very touchy with other people, but he despises being touched first. He prefers to initiate physical contact- both because of the control aspect of it and because of his general distrust of others.
His sense of humor waxes and wanes from extreme condescension to the most morbid sentences you’ve ever heard. Half of the time it doesn’t even sound like a joke.
Reckless driver, cursed with terrible road rage
Smokes cigarettes, his brand of choice is Marlboro
Drinks vodka straight as if it were water
I feel like his favorite band would be Tool or Slipknot. His music taste is just metal and dad rock.
Was brought up in a Catholic school for most of his life, although he obviously doesn’t keep up with the practice anymore. This is a big catalyst for why he develops a god complex however since he “has authority over life and death”— something unique only to gods from what he was taught.
Very observant of the people around him. He memorizes speech patterns, demeanors, even the way people walk. He’s gotten to the point where he can read people and their intentions well before they’re explicitly stated, making it much easier for him to spot a lie. However this also makes it much easier for him to tell when he’s truly pushing somebody’s buttons, and there’s nothing he loves more than pushing people past their limit.
Always stealing glances of himself in any mirror he walks past
He’s an opportunistic killer. Limiting himself to patterns clashes with the creativity and the thrill of the moment to him. However, there are specific elements of a kill he will often repeat if the mood strikes him. An example of this would be often including strangulation (albeit usually not the direct cause of death) to reflect his acquired need for control in all moments of his life. Sometimes he will also pose bodies in a “prayer” position to call back that god complex I mentioned.
He doesn’t always kill people immediately. If someone catches his eye, usually because he finds them beautiful in some aspect, he’ll take it a step further. He has no problem with being patient when the situation arises for it- stalking the person, learning their habits and schedules, the whole shebang. He’ll then slowly start to ruin said person’s life, isolating them through the slaughter of those closest to them and destroying any sense of peace and security they once had. He’s the sound that goes -bump- in the night. He’ll toy with his food until he eventually grows bored, disposing them like all the rest. After all, how dare someone else try to be beautiful in his presence- a punishment of the highest order is necessary.
His anger can be very… explosive. He doesn’t stick around very long for enough people besides victims to see it, but it can be as unpredictable as his own kills. It’s worse when he’s silent in his anger however, since with the former you at least have enough of a warning to brace yourself.
Backstory-Centric HCs:
(TW: csa, murder, mutilation, religious trauma, general stuff)
Takes place in college. Jeff is 22 at the start while Liu is 20.
Instead of being a one-off instance, Jeff and Liu have been subjected to bullying/borderline harassment since middle school. This builds up Jeff’s gradual distrust of others and leads to him shutting himself off from his peers.
Most of said bullying revolved around their mixed race situation. It only got worse as Jeff shut himself off and Liu became a people pleaser.
The two didn’t even have peace at home, since their parents were sexually abusive and excused it through their religion. It was “all apart of god’s love” as they said. This + the bullying leads Liu to develop DID and kickstarts Jeff’s resentment towards their parents. It also led Jeff to develop a twisted belief on what love and beauty is since god apparently “favored” the beauty of his parent’s form of “love.”
On one particular instance of bullying/harassment, a small group of people he grew up with planned on jumping and mugging Jeff behind a bar. Things escalated when Jeff retaliated in self defense, beating his aggressors with a nearby pipe found laying against a dumpster. He didn’t leave unscathed however, since one of the attackers dropped a lighter into the flammable materials (alcohol, trash, etc) that had been scattered in the fight, planning on making everyone go down in that moment. Jeff managed to survive (albeit with severe burns along his body) after being found by an employee who went to go check out the noise/smell of smoke, but the others succumbed to their wounds.
While in a heavy state of shock and psychosis (paired with being drugged up out the wazoo at the hospital) his usual unchecked auditory hallucinations worsened, leading his mind to trick him into believing this situation was a sign from god- that he was supposed to survive while his tormentors burned. Paired with his already twisted concepts of love and beauty, he began to believe that his burns were part of god’s plan to make him more beautiful- because he was favored.
This only gets worse when he’s released from the hospital’s custody due to a neglect in checking his mental state. After being sent home with his family and therefore being thrown back into the abusive environment he hoped to escape when going to college he ends up experiencing a psychotic break, mutilating himself in the process.
When his parents catch him, they attack him. In their eyes he had disgraced them, no longer upholding the “beauty” of heaven that they enforced. He ends up killing them in self defense, but furthers it by mutilating their bodies in an act of defiance induced by his break. He believes he’s outdone god in this moment, deluding himself into thinking he’s on the same level (or even better) than god.
While overcome by his psychotic break, he ends up severely wounding Liu after he wakes up to check out the noise. It becomes a conspiracy on if Liu survived or not since his body was never found by authorities.
The reason why Jeff continues on his spree after these instances is the feel of control he gets. After being forced into submission by those around him for so long, he finally feels a stable sense of power over those he deems as less than him.
He ends up wandering throughout the states after this, hopping from town to town. He never stays in one place for long, although sometimes he’ll revisit his home town to give the urban legend fanatics something to fear again.
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kaeyas-beloved · 3 months
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spider lily
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Character: Kaeya
— the gods really do scorn his existence
CWs: gn!reader (no pronouns), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, you and Kaeya have a kid but it could be biological or adopted, death (reader + child), blood
val's no sympathy november masterlist
haha... happy (very belated) birthday Kaeya <3
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Kaeya vividly remembers how he felt the first time you asked him on a date. It was like he was on top of the world, the broadest smile on his face as he agreed to meet you for dinner later, all while having his heart and throat squeeze itself of life. Like the organ that was responsible for keeping him on Teyvat was trying to sabotage him tying a weight to itself and tugging painfully. Tread carefully Kaeya Alberich, remember your place.
Of course, things couldn't be this easy, not when everything good resulted in a double-edged sword stabbing him in the back. There had to be a catch - were you pitying him? Mondstadt knew the bits and pieces of his history with the Ragnvindrs, you easily could too. No, maybe you, the one that captured his attention after many run-ins around the city of wind, had your eye on him too, but for all the wrong reasons.
If he was honest, he almost didn't go. He was a man of his word, yes, but right before the time Kaeya was supposed to meet you, he felt more like he was a ten-year-old boy again, scared and unsure of what the future held. Would you even actually be there? Maybe he just should go home... but what if you're waiting for him? He can't just embarrass you by leaving you there...
Just one peek, he told himself, rounding the building until he stood at the back entrance and sticking his head in. Every day after that one he thanked the Archons that he did, because after pssting Diluc over and inquiring if you were in the building, to which the redhead sighed and nodded, Kaeya steeled himself and sat down with you, offering a small lie that work kept him and that he was terribly sorry. That one decision let a relationship like no other that he's experienced blossom, and his days went from the monotonous curse to slightly better moments to repetition he was comfortable and content with. He even managed by some miracle to get to raise a kid with you, vowing to love both of you with all his heart. To provide for you both the best he can.
So where did he go wrong? Why did he come home to the door rammed through, swinging in the gentle wind? What about the sight of the home the three of you built together over the years destroyed, furniture toppled over and drawers obviously rummaged through?
For the first time in a while Kaeya felt fear strike his body, blood running cold as he called out your name and your kid’s name, begging for a response. Each second that ticked by worsened that chilling feeling as he checked room after room, finding each one turned upside down and void of life.
When the ground floor showed no luck the male climbed the stairs, tripping over in his haste as he disregarded all the other rooms and made a beeline for the bedroom. Out of all the rooms, that one was more likely where he’d find you.
And find you he did… but he wished it wasn’t dead in a pool of your own blood, eyes lifelessly stuck open. What was worse was the body of his kid not too far away from you, curled on their side. From the scene alone, it seems as if you were crawling towards them to protect them, even in your last breath.
Evidence be damned, as the tears fall down his face Kaeya collects the broken forms of you and your kid into his arms. He doesn't care for the blood staining his clothes or how loud his sobs are or how awkward the position is because all that matters is getting to hold his spouse and child for the last time.
At least he was allowed to hold them in peace, his final goodbye. That was the only thing he was granted amidst the pain.
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Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx // @leemidnightmoon
+
@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @kochothehoe // @cindywasneverhere
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misguidedasgardian · 2 years
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The dutiful
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AU MASTERLIST
Summary: Your Mob Boss father´s last wish was for you to marry his right-hand and most trusted man, Lloyd Hansen, you fight against it, but at the end, you are the ever dutiful daughter. Now he is the boss, and has to assert his dominance over you, and over his men  
Pairing: Mob!Lloyd Hansen x Fem!Reader
Warnings: DARK, misogynistic behaviour, mob bussiness, age gap (Lloys is late thirties, reader is mid-twenties), death of a parent, dub-con, unprotected rough sex, (don’t be silly wrap your willy), voyeurism (some guys watch you being claimed), little fingering, degradation, mocking, cursing, pet names, breeding kink, marriage kink, slight cumplay and eating, might miss some warnings. 
+18 MINORS DNI
Wordcount: 4.1 k
Notes: Oh my I just love Lloyd, I mean look at thim, I could throw everything I believe in and all the feminism trough the window just to get on my knees between his murdr thighs…. I hope you enjoy this gift Lloyd Lovers…. I mean the movie is not even OUT yet, we only had seen a minute of content and I’m already drippingggggg
not beta-ed, mistakes are current and my own hihi
HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHRISSSS
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You looked through the window at the mournful scenery, the sky weeped as you did, now it was a dark gray, the trees surrounding your father's property seemed so scary now, under this cloudy sky. A deep green who seemed to hide the darkest secrets. Everything seemed so dark after your father passed away just two days ago. You felt so alone now, your mansion so big and lonely, and so scary
Your thoughts were interrupted when the door of your father’s office opened, revealing a man that only by seeing him made you feel incredibly relieved. You walked towards him with a shy smile, hugging yourself until you reached him 
“Hey sweetheart, how are you doing?” Andrew Barber, your father's lawyer greeted you with sympathetic eyes and a shy smile, he kissed your forehead as you appreciate the gesture of a man you’d known since you could remember
“Hey Andy, thank you for coming” you hugged yourself again, behind him Lloyd Hansen entered your late father’s study, and it made you wince, that man scared in a primal way you’d never end to understand. His eyes always seemed to find you and a dark smile followed, his perfectly trimmed mustache moves with his thin lips
“Hey Sunshine” he greeted
“Hey Lloyd” you whispered, not daring to even look him in the eye.
Your father was the city’s most notorious Mobster, Gangster, drug dealer. It was the truth and it was so ingrained in your system you took it as a normal part of life. Half of his businesses were indeed legit, after years of money laundering. Lloyd Hansen was his right hand man, he knew everything about the business and before being his most trusted man he was the enforcer, the most violent and bloodthirsty amongst his men. Former special agent of the CIA turned, he was dangerous, skilled in combat and war, and now most likely the head of the family. 
Your attention turned to Andy again, as he took a seat in your late father’s seat behind the desk of his study
You took a seat in front of the desk, Lloyd placed himself behind you, making a lightning strike run down your back making you incredibly uncomfortable. Andy draw papers from his briefcase and laid them on the mahogany desk, organizing them in a tidy manner
“I’m here as an executor of your father's last will and testament” he said firmly, his lawyer face taking over. You nodded, knowing perfectly well his intentions, and calmly you listened to the man. You were your father’s only child, and your mother passed away when you were young, to your knowledge, you were his only heir, but Lloyd had been called too, you guessed to pass all the dark business to him
“Me, (Y/F/N) being sound of mind and body, present my last wish and testament” he started, reading your father’s last words, “Half of everything I have, properties and money on the accounts will belong to my only daughter (Y/N)” you let out a breath you haven’t even realized you were holding, in relief, “Even if it breaks my heart…” continued Andy with a frown, that made your blood ran cold, “... to leave you alone my sweet girl…” he continued, “...My last dying wish and conditions for you to receive my inheritance is for you to marry my right hand man Lloyd, who I’m inheriting the other half of all my belongings”
“What?” you asked, drawing the attention of both men, Lloyd’s hand squeezed your shoulders, “Did you know about this?” you stood from your seat with the sole purpose of looking him in the eyes, and stopped the contact. Lloyd was smiling knowingly
“Of course I did” he said calmly, “I was his right-hand man, the son he never had”
“Fuck you” you spitted out, “This is insane” Andy called you and you looked at him
“Andy” you called, pleading
“It was his last wish” he said firmly, “he was sound of body and mind…” you looked at Lloyd frowning
“What did you do? what did you say to him?”
“Nothing” he mocked, “He was always so afraid something could happen to you, he wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of after he was gone”
“I’m a grown woman” you said, “I can take care of myself”
“Yeah sure, what if his enemies come after you, uh?” he said then
“This is a conversation you should have in private” muttered Andy
“I want a witness” you demanded, “Look you can keep his dirty business, we can split everything in half I don’t care” you muttered, “But I think is excessive that I marry you, only because he didn’t think I could take care of myself”
“The will explicitly says that you only inherit after you mary Lloyd” Andy said, “this was redacted 6 months ago, and again, is valid, we all know he was in his right mind” you looked at Lloyd, he seemed so relaxed and calm
“Andy, get the fuck out of here” Lloyd demanded, but before he could leave you interupted in anger
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you asked, “You do not boss him around” but Andy look at you with sorry eyes
“He does now, sweetheart” he said, before he put all the documents on his briefcase and left the room, leaving you alone with Lloyd, who took two long steps to be right in front of you
He encased your jaw with his hand, his face so close to you you could feel his hot breath on your face, making the little hairs of your neck curl. his maddened gaze made you squirmed
“I’ve been at your father's side for fifteen years, and my father for longer” he said, “and a spoiled little brat is not going to keep me from assuming the lead of this family”
“Let me go” you cried
“You are going to marry me, whether you liked it or not, and before you think about it, good luck finding someone that could help you”
“All of this for power?” you asked, “Let it all burn to the ground I’m not marrying you!” 
“I’m going to be the boss, and no one is going to ruin this for me” 
“You are never going to be the boss!” you spitted out, anger gripping your every cell, you had never remembered an instance in which you were more angry that you were right now. You released yourself from his grasp and walked until you were behind the desk 
“Oh really?” He drew a smile so wicked it made you shiver. Of all your father’s men, you feared Lloyd the most, not because of his aspect, but because of his silent, deadly and smug demeanor. You knew him and knew what he was capable of, and that’s why you feared and respected him, but now? you were so angry you didn’t care, but you should…
He was on you in a second, with his hand encasing your throat and made you retreat until your back was against the wall. You whined and squirmed, trying to scratch his thick arm, but he was wearing a wool sweater that prevented you from injuring him
“Let me go!” you cried 
“No until you marry me, hell, maybe not even then” he chuckled darkly. His handsome face, his hand on your neck barely squeezing, the single tone of his voice made your thighs clench. You had always found him hellishly attractive, but dangerous, so dangerous. He seemed to read your thoughts, because he smiled wickedly, wrinkles appearing in the corners of his eyes. “I have to confess, I always wanted to do this, claim you, like you belonged to me…” he growled like a raging animal, and in a primal way you felt the danger, not only for your body but for your very soul, he was going to devour you whole. “Because you do”
“No” you whined, staying incredibly still
“I will make you mine then” he growled. He threw you over the desk, the air suddenly left your lungs when he pressed you against the hardwood
“I’m going to take what is mine” he threatened in your ear.
“Please lloyd, be nice” you begged, knowing that you couldn’t stop him, and actually doubting if you even wanted him to stop him. You felt so exposed like this, your dress a little short so your ass was almost uncovered. He held you against his desk with one of his hands behind your neck grabbing you oughly, and the other sneaked under your dress,
“I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll beg me to marry you” he laughed 
“I’ll never…!” he ripped your thighs in a single movement, the sting burned your skin and the sudden chill air in your skin made you tremble, “no please” you begged, squeezing your thighs tighter. You didn’t know if you really wanted to stop him, or if you were scared he’d found how wet you were for him.
It was the latter
“Would you look at that” of course he mocked you, “I haven’t even touched you yet and I can actually see how wet you are without even taking out your panties” you whined hiding your face from him, but nothing could scape him, he was over everything, that’s why he was going to be the boss after all. 
“NO” you moaned, when you felt he sneaky fingers dangerously creeping in the lines of your panties
“I think you need to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to claim you, and you want me to do it” he mocked you, you trembled with a single of his fingers lazyly and barely touched your weeping pussy, almost a light touch was enough to made you moan
“No I don’t, you are not the boss” you wanted to provoke him, you wanted more, you wanted to tip him over the edge
“Let’s see, shall we?” his hand left your underwear and you didn’t like it. 
He touched a single button on the phone right beside your head, a gruff voice greeted Lloyd at the other side 
“Ari, would you be a sunshine and get the men in here?” he asked on the phone, and you trembled under him, squirming and turning like an alligator. 
“No!” you whined, but he only chuckled darkly, resuming his movements under your dress, finally ripping your underwear, “Why…?” a moan escaped your mouth interrupting yourself when you felt his thick fingers entering your pussy, his thumbs pressed on your clit making you cry out in need. You were so wet you thought something embarrassing had happened
“You are right, I will never be the boss” he said simply, “If I don’t assert my dominance now…” the door opened and trough it all your father’s most trusted men walked in, Andy, Ari Levinson, Nick Fowler, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, August Walker… you couldn’t see the rest because your eyes turned to the back of your head when two of his fingers curled inside of you touching and rubbing your g spot making you cum on the spot without a single warning
“Sunshine!” he reprimanded you but with a mocking voice, “You had to give a little preview first” he mocked, “I barely touched her sweet, wet little pussy and she already cummed on my fingers!” he told the rest. And you whined trying to hide your face from their heated gazes. The shame was overpowering your pleasure, tears threatened to burn your eyes.
“C'mon Sunshine” he purred in your ear, “give them a show, prove them that you are mine” his fingers kept moving, provoking, exploring. You felt his weight on your back, “Can’t wait to make you cum on my mouth” and the ghost feeling of his mustache on your clit make you tingle against him, and you wondered how good it must feel.
“´Lloyd” you called
“What do you want, baby?” he asked,
“You” you moaned, wiggling your hips. You heard laughs and chuckled, but you focused on the feeling of your body instead, if not you were going to cry
“You want me?” he asked
“Yes please” you whispered. And he chuckled
“How can I say no to that?” the fingers left your pussy, his other hand still having you by the back of your neck. Single handedly you heard him unbuckle his belt and opening his fly
“Andy, you are ordained, right?” he asked 
“That’s right” you heard him answer 
“Can you marry us while she is cumming around my cock?” he asked
“Your orders boss”
“That’s damn right,” he said, pleased. grabbing his cock and ruining it with your weeping entrance. You buckle your hips at his rhythm. “Well gentleman, as you can see, I’m staking my claim” in one single push he was buried inside you to the hilt. You screamed in a mix of pain and pleasure. Because no matter how wet you were, his cock was so thick and big it still burned when he split you open for him
“Shit!” you cursed biting your lower lip, closing your eyes tightly as you felt every vein, every ridge, and his tip kissing your cervix
“Holy shit this pussy is so good” he moaned darkly, one of his hands grabbing your hip so tight you knew it was going to leave a mark. “It’s squeezing me like a fist” 
“Lloyd” you cried, begged him, to move or to do something, because you knew that when he does, you were going to feel fucking amazing. You wanted to reach him, to touch him, but you couldn’t because of your position, the edge of the desk marking your thighs, your own body constricting your rib cage… but that all came to second place as you felt him retrieve himself and then thrust into you again, a slap sound could be heard in the room. His groin slapping against your ass. you moaned loudly, not hiding anymore how good he was making you feel. 
He started a rough tandem, drawing sounds you had never made before. your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his cock rubbed against that special spot. his and left the back of your neck and grabbed your hips, drawing you to him to meet each thrust. 
“Fuck look at her” you heard the voice of Ari Levinson mocking you, watching your every expression your every sound you drew. Lloyd grabbed you by your hair, making you raise your head in the direction of your audience
“Look at her” he demanded, you opened your eyes and you looked at them, “look at her fucked out face” you closed your eyes, trying to zoom them out and just focus on how good you felt. 
You felt an orgasm coming, your pussy clenched around him greedily, you moaned softly when he released you gently, letting you hide your face again in your folded arms.
“Fuck that’s it” he grabbed you by the hair again and made you twist your head in a way he could see your face twisted in pleasure, looking at how good you looked when you cummed
“So hot” he growled, “sweet girl that’s it, give me everything” your juice stained the base of his cock and made his thrusts resound in a squelching sound. 
He took himself off of you, and you whined in protest, not liking it. You didn’t even get to see your audience and he turned you around, opening your legs and placing himself between them. He caressed your thighs gently before he grabbed them and made you stick to his hips. Your pussy colliding with his thick cock. You couldn’t see it, and you really wanted to, but he entered you so easily it was almost embarrassing, barely needing a little push the open you up for him again, the new, more intimate angle made the friccion it even more delicious when he kept his hard pase and rough thrusts. You wanted him against you, you reached for him also wanting to cover yourself from the men, that you could barely see from this new angle 
 and he leaned into you, his forehead pressing against yours. 
His hands encased your ribcage, finally feeling your front. He leaned in to watch your tits bounce over the neckline of your dress. For now it was enough… Now later when he’ll have you all to himself he will take the time to touch you and savor you whole.
“Don’t look at them now, I want your eyes on me when you come undone on my fat cock” he encased your jaw with his hand, his deep blue eyes chilling you to your bone his wicked smile made you tingle even more, losing yourself on his handsome face. “You are going to come again for me baby?”
“It’s too much” you complained, feeling your puffy pussy weeping, so tender, raw and sensitive you were going to pass out
“Are you going to marry me now?” you kept turning and twisting
“No” it was a negative but you couldn’t hold a moan that came with it, the feeling of his thick cock rubbing against your walls were making you feel insanely good, your eyes were turning to the back of your head, and yet another orgasm was creeping on you and you fleetingly thought you were going to lose it. Your consciousness, your mind, your body, all of it. 
“Really?” but as you almost touched the sky with your hands, he pulled out of you, making you whine in need, looking at him with teary eyes and found his mock face, smiling widely at you. You whined touching his black cardigan, demanding he resumed his thrusts
“No, please” you begged, your fingers sneaking under his wool vest and touching the hot skin of his muscled belly 
“What do you want, you little slut?” he mocked
“please” your hands tried to find his cock, and he laughed in your face, mocking you, “keep doing it” you begged 
“Are you seeing this?” he asked, looking at his men, many of them were touching themselves over their dress pants, many had their cocks out, and were shamelessly masturbating, “This little slut begging is something else” he turned his gaze back at you 
“I’m not a slut” you protested
“That’s right, you are only mine” he entered you again and an inhuman sound left your lips. your walls grabbed him like a vice. And he amazed himself of how much he wanted to cum inside you. Something similar flied through your mind you wanted to cum, but the gaze of all of them on you wouldn’t let you 
“Please Lloyd” you cried, your shame of being watched couldn't let you relax, “I’m marrying you” you promised, begging him with your eyes. his eyes looked in your for any signs of a lie, but couldn’t find any, his thumb caressed your cheek, and then he looked up to the group of men. He stilled his movements, leaving himself seated inside of you 
“Get out” demanded to his men, and they all even looked shocked, that he would draw the line there after all of it, “GET THE FUCK OUT!” He shouted making you wince and they left the room like it was on fire. When the door clicked shut after the last one, he looked down at you, in his eyes where something other than malice and desire, something more… human
“I’m going to make you mine,” he sentenced. “This is where you belong, right under me” his sudden tenderness made you swallow your own words, as he resumed his movements, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands encased your face, keeping you in place gently, “You are mine” you just nodded, “say it” he demanded
“I’m yours” you said lowly 
“You are going to marry me” he said then
“I’m going to marry you” you mumbled, your eyes trying to manifest him that you weren’t lying, you didn’t know if it was the pleasure, or fear 
“You are going to have my babies” he demanded then
“I’m going to have your babies” you confirmed
“I’m going to keep you nice and bred all the fucking time” he growled his wicked smile appearing again as he leaned in and kissed you. 
It was the first time he ever kissed you. His mustache tickled you making you smile against his mouth. and he chuckled darkly, grabbing you by the neck and pushed you until you were against the wood, taking your breath away when he separated himself from you
“I’m going to take care of you” he promised, “say it, believe it”
“You are going to take care of me” you whispered, and he smiled, kissing you again, this time, he didn’t release you and instead he fucked you rougher, faster, the tip of his cocks grazing your special spot every single time, you moaned on his mouth wantonly, needed him, your arms hugged him drawing him more tightly against you. Your legs wrapped around his middle, keeping him even closer to you. not wanting him to let you go. And just like that, your orgasm creeped out on you, your walls tightening around him, strangled his cock inside you. 
“That’s it baby” when he separated himself from you a thin line of saliva still joined your hungry mouths
“Lloyd” you called like a prayer, looking into his eyes
“Fuck!” he yelled, with a last hard thrust he stilled inside you, cumming so hard, hot spurts of him cum painting your walls. “Shit Sunshine” he whined letting himself fall over your. You hugged him tightly against you, like you didn’t want him to separate from you, you didn’t want to let him go. “That’s it Pumpkin, sweet girl” he kissed your forehead, “FUck, I never cummed that hard before, shit” his stormy blue eyes found yours. And as you regained your breaths, you gazed upon one another. He kissed you again. more swiftly but no less powerful
You whined when he took himself off of you. Not liking the emptiness he left 
“Don’t worry honey, I’ll be inside of you soon enough” he said with his gruff voice
You felt his thick seed dripping from your hole and down your thighs. Making you moan, repressing the need to collect it with your fingers, Lloyd did it for you, and then he fed it to you, rubbing his fingers in your mouth, and smiled widely when you licked his fingers, tasting his seed and moaning because of his salty taste
“That’s a good wife” he mocked, he actually helped you with your dress, putting it back in place and helped you on your feet. You whined again when your lack of pantis made you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, staining them
“Lloyd” you cried, but not even knew what you wanted from him, you looked into his eyes and he smiled softly, encasing your face with his hands, and leaned in to kiss you softly
“Mine” he growl against your mouth
“Yours” you confirmed, he lets go off you
“Now I need to talk to the men, so wifey, smile and go make me a nice dinner” he whispered derogatorily in your ear, spanking your ass, encouraging you to leave the office, the men outside smiling knowingly when they saw you, but they bowed with their heads as you passed by them. You were the wife of the boss now. 
You heard the men laugh when they saw you could barely walk out of the study, hearing Lloyd
“Now, you all are going to pledge your allegiance to me” he demanded as you kept walking towards the kitchen to talk to the staff about the new order in the house
He was the boss now. And you were no longer the dutiful daughter, now you were the dutiful wife. 
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I've wanted to write about the clit tickler for a while now, and I will do it again! muajaja
PART II IN HERE
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ginnsbaker · 8 months
Text
In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (14/22)
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Chapter summary: Vision sends you a demand letter for physical assault; Yelena makes a discovery that could shake the delicate foundations of your newfound 'friendship' with Wanda.
Chapter word count: 5.6k | Warnings: None | Ship: Wanda x Reader, Yelena x Reader
Author's note: Enjoy? :)
AO3 | Masterlist 
Next chapter: Fifteen
--
Fourteen
The demand letter sits in front of you, openly mocking you with its mere existence. It arrived at the most unanticipated time, suspiciously just a few days after your birthday. It is drafted by one of the most sought-after law firms in New York and co-signed by one Victor Shade, but you doubt that he had any hand in composing it. 
You've read it at least a dozen times now, its words wasting no time diving into the heart of the matter, “On January 4th, 2022 I suffered severe and critical injuries, when the actions of your insured, Ms. Y/N L/N…”
Deep down, you think you’ve been expecting this. The way Vision looked at Wanda the last time you saw them hinted at his lingering feelings. You knew he would do something to ease Wanda's rejection of him, and now he wants a specific amount as compensation: "Total Damages - $831,615.60."
With steady breaths, you carefully fold the letter back into its envelope. 
You wonder if Wanda knows about this. Clearly, whatever she and Vision previously agreed on to delay this matter has now unraveled. And if that’s the case, you want to make sure that Wanda stays out of this, and that her ties to Vision are permanently severed.
As you’re pondering the financial repercussions should you opt to settle, and the added frustration of Natasha not returning any of your calls, your office phone rings, startling you.
"Yes?" you answer when your assistant speaks.
"Sorry to bother you, but Ms. Yelena Romanoff is here to see you," your assistant tells you.
"Send her in, Martin. Thanks." you say and hang up, hurriedly clearing your desk, thoughtlessly placing the letter on top of the pile of documents you need to burn through for today.
A few moments pass, and then Yelena appears at the doorway of your office, wearing a bright smile that matches her vibrant pink lipstick. Coyly, she taps on the door, even though it's already slightly ajar. She's dressed in tight, ripped jeans, paired with knee-high boots and a vibrant red jacket–easily a sight for sore eyes. 
“Hey, baby, you busy?” she asks sort of mischievously. 
You shake your head, grinning “Not for you.”
"Good," she replies, stepping into the room and locking the door behind her. You begin to rise from your seat, but she stops you with a hand. Making her way around your desk, she forcefully pushes you back into your executive chair.
“What are you doing?” you whisper, entranced, and watch as she straddles your thighs.
"Assaulting my girlfriend," she murmurs with a wink, her choice of words momentarily freezing you in place. But as her lips find their way to your neck, any further thoughts dissipate, distracting you from everything else in that electrifying moment. Your hands rest innocently on her hips, massaging her gently as her hips start a slow, gentle rhythm. Tilting your head back, you surrender to her fervor as she traces the length of your throat with her nose, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along the way.
Yelena's jacket slips from her shoulders, cascading to the floor, revealing a thin turtleneck that clings to her form. With haste, you lift it up, exposing her flushed chest that’s heaving with her every breath. But before you can bury your face into her soft mounds, the phone rings again, prompting your girlfriend to get off your lap. 
You let out a frustrated curse under your breath, while Yelena giggled, amused at your striking annoyance.
"What is it, Martin?" you answer as calmly as you could while trying to get the image of Yelena’s breast out of your head. 
"Mr. Stark is calling in the managers for an emergency meeting," Martin informs you.
That completely diverts your attention away from a half-naked Yelena panting on your desk. 
“He’s here?”
"Yes, ma'am," Martin confirms.
"Uh, okay. Give me two minutes," you say, ending the call. 
Having overheard the conversation, Yelena quickly retrieves some tissues and proceeds to gently wipe away the lipstick stains she had left on your neck. “Shit, sorry, babe.”
"Don't worry about it," you stammer, still finding it difficult to concentrate amidst your lingering arousal.
“Yeah,” Yelena smiles knowingly. “Maybe another time, then.”
"Would it be more practical if I put that in my calendar?" you suggest, half-jokingly.
Yelena scrunches her nose at the idea of scheduling sex. “Where's the fun in that?” she retorts.
"You're right. I’m a fussy nerd, I know," you admit with a chuckle.
"A sexy nerd," Yelena corrects, planting a full kiss on your lips. "Now, go get 'em, tiger."
She playfully nudges you towards the door, urging you to make your way to the meeting. As you straighten the creases on your skirt, you quickly reassure her, “I'll be back in a few, okay?” There's a hint of worry in your voice, as if you fear she might leave without your knowledge.
Yelena's eyes meet yours, and she gives you a reassuring smile. “I'll be here,” she promises.
As soon as you leave the room, Yelena retrieves her jacket from the floor and tidies her appearance. In an instant, she transforms into the journalist persona that she hasn’t allowed you to see. She had visited you for another purpose today, and the unexpected opportunity that presented itself left her both surprised and eager to fulfill her intentions. 
Call it an instinct or a persistent gut feeling, but Yelena had been on edge since your birthday. A sense of unease had settled within her, accompanied by an unexplained nagging sensation that there’s something she needed to uncover. It feels as though you’ve been keeping a secret from her for quite some time.
Carefully, she rummages through your drawer, cautious to leave things as they are. And then, out of the corner of her eye, something catches her attention—an envelope. It doesn’t look like it belongs there, on top of documents and folders that have the stamp of Stark Industries in them. No, this envelope bears the distinct markings of an infamous law firm. And clearly, you’ve read whatever is inside, considering the gaping tear on the side of the envelope.
With steady hands, she retrieves the envelope, her movements purposeful and precise. Carefully unfolding the letter, her eyes swiftly scan its contents, absorbing the information with speed and accuracy. She knows that time is of the essence, aware that you could return at any moment, leaving her with limited opportunity to delve into its contents.
Yelena slips the letter back in its envelope and returns it to its original position, making sure to arrange it exactly as she found it. Were you going to tell her about this? Would you have asked for her help or her input as your partner? Or would you just go through the tides without her ever knowing? 
Her intuition had been spot-on; there was indeed something to uncover, and it was undeniably connected to your ex-wife.
She promised you she’d be waiting, but if she wants to help you out of your situation, she better get going.
***
Later that same day, Wanda stands behind the sleek espresso machine, a confident smile on her face as she prepares to demonstrate to Peter a coffee technique known as "pour-over brewing". The café is relatively quiet, with only a few customers lingering over their cups of coffee. Valkyrie left just a while ago after enjoying her usual brew. Before leaving, she had presented Wanda with a thoughtful gift—a bag of exotic coffee beans collected during her recent business trip to Cape Town. Valkyrie had hoped to impress Wanda not only with the beans themselves but also by showcasing herself as a renowned photographer. Eager to try them, Wanda saw this as the perfect opportunity to share one of her favorite brewing techniques with Peter.
As Wanda expertly pours hot water over the meticulously arranged coffee grounds, she explains the process. "Pour-over brewing allows us to extract the full flavor from the coffee grounds. It's all about precision and patience. The water must be heated to the right temperature, and the pouring technique should be slow and steady. It results in a clean and nuanced cup of coffee."
Crouching down to bring himself to eye level with the coffee, Peter’s concentration deepens as he poses a question: "So, how can you tell when it's ready?"
“Generally, it takes around two to three minutes for the water to pass through the coffee bed, depending on the desired strength and flavor profile." 
Wanda leans in, pointing out the subtleties of the process. “As you observe the flow of water, pay attention to the color and consistency. The water should form a gentle, controlled stream, evenly saturating the grounds. If it rushes too quickly or seems to pool in one spot, it may be a sign to adjust your pouring technique.”
“Additionally,” Wanda continues, “Watch for the final stages of the pour-over. As the water nears the end of its journey, the drips become slower and more intermittent. This gradual decrease signifies that the process is almost complete.”
With a smile, Peter watches as the coffee brewing process unfolds before his eyes, precisely as Wanda had described. As the last drops fall into the waiting cups, Wanda proceeds to pour the freshly brewed coffee, dividing it between two cups—one for herself and one for Peter to try.
“For the rest of the week, you’ll be covering all the coffee orders, alright?” Wanda says.
Peter nods eagerly in excitement. 
Just as Wanda is about to bring the cup to her lips, the cheerful chime of the café's entrance sounds. Her eyes widen in surprise as she catches sight of the least expected person to walk through the doors of her coffee shop.
Yelena. 
Confusion immediately clouds Wanda's face, but before she can react, Peter takes the initiative to greet their customer. Yelena responds with a faint smile as she approaches the counter, drawing closer to Wanda until they’re standing face to face, finding themselves in a similar situation just a few weeks prior.
“One cup of coffee, please,” Yelena orders meekly, pulling a twenty-dollar bill off her purse.
“Coming right up,” Peter promptly replies, ready to assist, but Wanda interjects.
“I'll get this, Peter. Why don't you attend to the stock for now?” Wanda suggests.
“Certainly, Ms. Max–Wanda,” Peter says and scurries off to the back room, giving the two some space. 
Wanda's smile brims with gratitude as Peter leaves, granting them a moment of privacy. She then shifts her undivided attention to Yelena, whose growing discomfort doesn't go unnoticed, stoking Wanda’s own anxiety about the purpose of her visit.
Pushing aside her inner reservations, Wanda adopts a professional demeanor, masking her own concerns. From this point onward, it’s all business.
"Specifically, what coffee would you like?" she asks.
Yelena shrugs. "Anything, really."
Wanda chuckles softly, appreciating Yelena's laid-back approach. "Alright, then. Would you prefer it hot or iced?"
Yelena raises an eyebrow. "Who drinks cold coffee?"
Wanda's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Actually, many people do. But I have something special for you. I just brewed some off-the-menu grounds from Cape Town. Would you like to try that?"
“Sure. How much?” 
Waving her hand dismissively, she insists, “On the house. It's a gift from a friend anyway.”
It’s met with a quiet nod from Yelena, who slips the twenty dollar bill into the tip jar as a token of appreciation.
“How about something to eat?” Wanda asks.
“I’m good,” Yelena politely declines, shaking her head.
However, the next words that escape Yelena's mouth are anything but polite, catching Wanda off guard. 
“Are you trying to get her back?” 
Wanda almost drops the cup she was in the midst of placing on a tray for Yelena.
Staring at each other, tension lingering palpably before Yelena clears her throat, breaking the moment. She gestures towards a more secluded area of the café. “Should we, uh, talk over there?”
With a hesitant nod, Wanda acquiesces, her thoughts filled with a flicker of doubt about her choice to open a café rather than a bar. At this very moment, she wishes for nothing more than a shot of whisky before having this ‘talk’.
Yelena doesn’t jump back right in after they are seated. Instead, she takes a sip of her coffee, humming pleasantly at the flavor that touches her taste buds.
“How did you find this place?” Wanda asks. How did you know where to find me?
Yelena, unfazed by the question, responds matter-of-factly, “I'm a journalist. Finding out things isn't too hard for me to do.”
"So, are you trying to get her back?" Yelena repeats as her eyes lock on Wanda’s.
Wanda's response is swift and sincere. “I'm not,” she states firmly. If Yelena had asked her that question before the night she nearly died, she would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. But now, she has nothing but respect for your relationship with Yelena, and doesn’t want to come in between the happiness you’ve found with her.
“But you still love her, don’t you?”
Wanda acknowledges her feelings for you in a slow, deliberate nod, seeing no point in denying it.
“I don’t know why you feel the need to ask me this,” Wanda says. "Y/N loves you. She wouldn't be with you if she didn't."
“I know,” Yelena says with conviction. "But that doesn't mean she’s mine completely."
Wanda's eyes narrow, searching for the true intent behind Yelena's words. Does Yelena genuinely believe that? Could there really be a possibility that you still love her?
Wanda swallows dryly. “I–”
Yelena interrupts, her tone heavy with resignation. "You should have just stayed away," she sighs, her gaze shifting downwards, as if the realization dawned on her just a little too late. She didn’t mean to start talking to Wanda about her insecurities, but Yelena couldn’t help but think about the depth of your attachment to this woman the more she looks at her. 
As she gazes at Wanda, she can't help but wonder where your love for Wanda ends and hers begin.
“I am staying away,” Wanda firmly declares, her posture shifting as she straightens her spine in the chair. All of her encounters with you except for the time you were the one to come to her have been purely coincidental–despite how often they happen.
“Except for matters concerning Sparky,” she adds, correcting herself, “He used to be Y/N's dog as well. It was important for her to be informed about what was happening with him.”
“So, you didn't contact her on her birthday?” Yelena probes, watching Wanda intently for anything that would suggest that she might be lying with her answer.
Wanda, to her credit, doesn't even flinch as she replies, “I did.” It’s immediately clear that Yelena has no idea that you ran into her that night. Wanda understands that it is a matter to be discussed between you and your girlfriend, and she has no intention of revealing something that is not hers to disclose. But it’s another question that will definitely consume her thoughts later.
Yelena tightly clenches her jaw, trying to stay calm. She's always trusted you and never invaded your privacy, never checked your messages. But now, she can't help but wonder if she should have been a bit more vigilant.
“I see,” she drawls, and then finishes the last of her coffee. She doesn’t think she wants to know the details of that any further. “You claim that you’re trying to stay away from Y/N, but obviously, you’re not doing such a great job of it.”
Confused, Wanda furrows her brows and asks, "What do you mean?"
Yelena reaches into her purse and retrieves a thumb drive, sliding it in Wanda's direction.
Wanda looks at the curious little device. “What’s this?”
“Before I tell you, there’s something you should know,” Yelena pauses, making sure that Wanda is thoroughly listening before she shares the news. "Victor Shade has just sent Y/N a demand letter for damages related to physical assault."
"V-Vision?" Wanda’s voice trembles as she speaks.
Yelena nods knowingly. "I assume there's only one Victor Shade in your life–"
"He's not in my life." The words escape Wanda's lips with a forcefulness and intensity that surprises them both. “Not anymore.”
A pregnant pause hangs between them, Yelena patiently waiting for Wanda to gather herself as she observes the rapid whirl of thoughts inside her head. 
After a beat, Yelena continues the slew of disclosures. “I assume his decision to exact revenge on Y/N has something to do with you.” 
Wanda's voice rises in defense. “Are you accusing me of conniving with that–”
“No, not exactly,” Yelena says. “He’s a kid who grew up in a wealthy family, never being denied anything in his life. I think his letter was driven by jealousy. All I’m saying is that this could have been avoided if he had not seen you two together.
“Which brings us to that,” Yelena's gaze shifts to the USB device, which sits untouched near Wanda's hands on the table. It's as if Wanda is actively avoiding it, treating it like a dangerous explosive, which in retrospect, could be deemed as such if its contents were ever revealed. 
"Look, I don't have concrete proof of him stalking you, but I believe this is substantial evidence to shake him off balance."
Wanda fixes Yelena with an expectant gaze, her eyes brimming with anticipation.
Yelena lets out a resigned sigh. "Fine, I'll tell you, since you're so patient.”
Wanda resists reacting to the veiled sarcasm, sensing that what Yelena is about to reveal aligns with her worst fears.
“Vision filmed you both having sex,” Yelena states bluntly, not concerned with softening the crude reality of the situation. “I was able to retrieve just one. I don’t know how many there are. And from the way the recording was cut an hour later when you’re already sleeping means you have no idea he was doing this.”
At Wanda's lack of response and the visible dread in her eyes, Yelena decides to speak up again.
“That's an invasion of privacy. In the state of New Jersey, you can send someone to prison for that for up to five years. Now, it’s up to you to decide what to do with this information.
“I know you care about Y/N, “ Yelena takes a deep breath, as if that fact physically hurts too much for her to accept in light of things. “I know you’ll do everything to help her in this situation.”
“How much is he asking from Y/N?” Wanda mumbles after a long time. 
“More than $800,000 in damages.”
“Jesus,” Wanda gasps at the amount, instinctively bringing her hands up to her face, covering her eyes and burying her features in her palms. Although insurance might cover it, it’s still potentially crippling. Determined to figure this out, she finally picks up the USB from the table and secures it inside her pocket. 
“How did you find out all of this? And how did you even get this video?” Wanda inquires curiously.
“I don’t reveal my sources.” Yelena replies with a smile, leaving Wanda suspicious about the legality of her methods. And equally suspicious of Yelena’s intentions, Wanda asks, “Why are you helping me?”
Yelena's snort breaks through, a genuine expression of glee that surprises Wanda. "I'm not. I'm doing all of this for Y/N."
"Fair enough. But why approach me then? You could have immediately gone to Y/N about this, even shown her the video?” Logically, it would be a strategic move for Yelena. Witnessing the gritty details of Wanda’s cheating would undoubtedly reignite the grievances in your heart. And she’d never have to worry about you going back to Wanda ever again. 
The look that Yelena throws at her is a mix of pity and disgust. “I’d never intentionally hurt Y/N. I came to you because it's your responsibility to fix this mess. It's the least you could do for all the pain you've caused her.”
With those words hanging in the air, Yelena rises from her seat. Casting one final glance at Wanda, she adds, "If you think I’d resort to dirty tricks just to keep Y/N, then you really have no idea how to love her in the first place.”
***
“You have no idea how happy I was when you said you wanted to see me.”
Vision smiles at Wanda as her gaze unwillingly falls upon him, her body trembling with a fury she never realized existed within her. The moment Yelena left her café, Wanda wasted no time in reaching out to Vision, and he promptly answered her call, as if he had been eagerly anticipating that very moment all along. She had chosen a crowded restaurant, in one of the busiest streets in Manhattan near Town Square, seeking safety in the presence of a man she knew deep down couldn't be trusted.
"I didn't want to. I had to," Wanda admits sharply, crossing her arms in front of her. "I thought we had an agreement. That you would stay away from Y/N. And your idea of that is extorting money from her?"
“My circumstances have changed,” Vision argues, sounding almost remorseful. “My dad decided to cut me off, and I can no longer fund my move to Tokyo to pursue my film studies.” 
Vision searches Wanda’s face, hoping to see a reaction, but she remains indifferent to his news of departure, seemingly unaffected by what's happening in his life.
“That’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard,” Wanda says spitefully. And then she sighs in defeat. “If I give you the money, will you–”
"I don't want the money from you," Vision declares, placing his fork down with a loud noise. "She did put me into a coma–”
“Because we fucking drove her to it!” Wanda screams her frustration. The outburst attracts the attention of others in the restaurant, and Wanda looks around apologetically before sinking back into her chair with a sigh.
“The assault happened and I can prove it in court if it ever comes to it.” he says after Wanda has grown quiet.
“You’re not going to prove anything because you’re going to retract that letter and you’re going to leave her alone just like you promised.” Wanda’s words carry a sense of finality, as if there is no other option for Vision.
“You can’t tell me what to do anymore–”
“I can,” Wanda says with a bout of confidence. "Otherwise, you're looking at up to five years in prison for filming me without my consent."
It takes Vision a moment to grasp the meaning behind Wanda's words, and Wanda takes pleasure in observing the color drain from his face. 
“You hacked into my stuff?” he stammers in disbelief.
“You fucking filmed me,” Wanda reiterates, as they both remain fixated on their respective grievances. “I can’t believe I ever trusted you. I’ve never felt so betrayed and disgusted with myself as I do now.”
“How did you get the file?” he asks.
“I don’t reveal my sources,” Wanda says, echoing Yelena’s statement from earlier.
He locks eyes with Wanda, attempting to gauge if she's bluffing, but Wanda remains resolute, maintaining a stoic expression. Then, a small laugh escapes him, shaking his head as if the situation is nothing more than a joke. Wanda fumes as she takes a sip of her water and sets it back down heavy-handedly.
“Here’s the thing,” Vision casually signals for the waiter to refill his wine. “We’re all backed into a corner. If you use that against me, she'll find out, and it will only fuel her hatred towards you. Is that a risk you're willing to take?"
Wanda hesitates, her lips parting with uncertainty before closing them in a swift decision. It's a high-stakes gamble, an all-or-nothing move that reveals the vulnerable hand she holds.
You really have no idea how to love her in the first place. She doesn’t exactly know what Yelena meant by that, nevertheless, it makes her doubt her ability to love you properly. She wishes there was a manual that she could read from cover-to-cover until the pages are worn from countless readings. All Wanda can do is prove that she can; even though loving you is the one thing she wants to get right, but has failed multiple times.
“You don’t get to question me about what I’m willing to risk.” she says as she stands up to leave.
Vision calmly wipes his mouth with a table napkin. “Then I guess we’ll just have to find out what Y/N’s next move is.” 
***
Standing on the balcony of your high-rise Manhattan apartment, the view from up here is breathtaking.
The city below pulsates with vibrant energy, resembling a living organism with a heartbeat all its own. Its grandeur is reminiscent of the landscapes that once inspired poets and artists in centuries past. However, the awe-inspiring scenery does little to quell the turmoil raging within you, as you grapple with the decision of whether to pick up the phone and call Wanda or let the silence linger.
You haven't told Yelena about the demand letter that you received from Vision’s law firm yesterday. You want to protect her from getting involved in the convoluted aftermath of Wanda's cheating, which evidently still affects you like aftershocks from an earthquake. You tell yourself that you will let her know, in time, when you figure out what to do. 
With Wanda, there's a strong likelihood that she is already caught in the midst of this storm. You vividly recall the last encounter with Vision, his demeanor exuding a sense of power, as if he held the ability to dismantle your life in a single moment. He subtly implied that it was solely Wanda who prevented him from doing so. 
You wonder if Wanda’s aware that Vision has carried out his plans for revenge; she needed to stop protecting you from him. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and accepting the repercussions of your own choices and actions. 
As you deliberate on what to say to Wanda when you eventually call her, the sound of your building lobby intercom blares through the living room. The voice on the other end informs you, "Ms. Y/L/N? A certain Wanda Maximoff here would like to see you. Shall I allow her in?"
Your heart skips a beat and you press the button for you to speak. "Please, thank you.”
There’s the answer to one of your questions–Wanda probably knows about Vision’s stipulation  regarding the substantial sum of almost a million dollars.
It’s a few minutes of waiting before you hear the doorbell ring.
You open the door to find a visibly fatigued Wanda standing timidly before you. Dark circles under her eyes and a certain gauntness in her cheeks catch your attention, details that you may not have noticed before due to her naturally pronounced cheekbones that give her a sharp, distinct look. 
"I should've called," Wanda says, offering a thin smile as you welcome her inside. "But my feet were already bringing me here before I even thought about it."
"It's no problem at all. Would you like some water or something to drink? I have kombucha, tea... There's also a French Cab breathing in the kitchen, though I know it's quite early."
"I think I'll go for a glass of wine," Wanda replies.
"Coming right up," you say with a warm, good-natured smile, playfully mimicking Wanda's typical line in her own café.
“Is Yelena around?” Wanda asks as she nervously takes in her surroundings.
“She’s working,” you reply as you trudge towards the kitchen.
Left on her own, Wanda perches awkwardly on one end of the couch, her eyes scanning your quaint living room. She can discern the details that reflect your personality, but it doesn’t appease the fact that she has never felt more like an outsider in your life.
"Here," Wanda hears you say from behind her. She turns her head to find you giving the wine glass a gentle swirl, observing as the liquid moves about slowly and clings to the sides—a clear indicator of its high alcohol content. Bringing the glass to your nose, you take a whiff, seemingly enticed by its aroma. Finally, you extend the glass towards Wanda, offering it to her.
Wanda takes a sip–it’s rich and heavy, and the warmth it brings immediately spreads to her chest, instantly soothing her.
You look at her expectantly, choosing to sit on the opposite end. Seeing how worried she looks, you feel that she might finish her glass before she could utter a single word about what she came here for. 
Deciding to help her out, you break the silence first. 
“I take it you know about Vision’s demand letter,” you start, running your fingertip along the rim of your own wine glass. “It’s what you came here for right?”
Wanda nods and then raises the glass to her lips once more, taking another sip until she empties its contents. A small dribble of red liquid escapes from the corner of her mouth, which she promptly wipes with her thumb.
“What are you going to do?” Wanda asks, somber eyes fixed on her lap. Guilt weighs heavily on her, feeling like she brought this on you–which, in hindsight, she probably did. 
As Wanda wrestles with her own feelings of culpability, she hears Calliope's voice echoing in her mind. “You can’t shoulder all the blame, Wanda,” she told her. “It just leaves you lonely and stuck in a situation you have no control of.” 
Control is an illusion, Wanda reminds herself.
“I already set an appointment with my own lawyer. She’s going to go over the figures so we can renegotiate.”
It’s not at all what Wanda is expecting.
“You’re paying him off?” she asks, gaping at you openly for a moment.
"I did send him to the hospital. For quite a while actually," you admit, blinking slowly. "And if he had never woken up, I could very well be in prison right now."
As Wanda struggles with lingering guilt, you find yourself unable to deny the truth either and it weighs heavily on you. Frankly, you see no other way around this. Evading the consequences of letting your anger overwhelm you to the point of potential homicide is no longer a viable option.
You can see Wanda struggling with your decision, and you bitterly think that it’s too late for her to protect you in any way. She’s inflicted her own damage; and the consequence for her is watching the implications of it unravel before her.
“I–I have another way,” Wanda says.
Arching an eyebrow, you’re torn between curiosity and doubt. Wanda is aching for another glass of wine, but she has been consciously limiting her alcohol consumption lately. She doesn't want to repeat the countless occasions where she has either blacked out or come close to it.
“Wanda, stop,” you say, your voice gentle. “I don't want to know. I need closure. I need to get it in the right way, not through shortcuts. Please, don't protect me from this.”
Wanda’s eyes close on their own accord at your mention of the word ‘closure’. Does that closure include her?
“Just hear me out, please,” she implores with urgency. “There’s… there’s something he did that you can bring up with the law as well. And Vision has no proof that you were ever in his apartment, right? So if it comes to it, he really can’t prove that you’re the one who attacked him.”
Wanda looks pale even as she speaks with a kind of preternatural calm that you recognize only comes out when Wanda has come to terms with something. You lean back on the arm rest with an expectant look.
“He recorded us having… having the affair,” The words wrench themselves out of Wanda’s mouth and it takes a while for them to sink into your brain; when they do, you quickly look away, wishing you had instructed the concierge to deny Wanda's request to see you earlier. 
You make a conscious effort to rein in your emotions, particularly the anger that wells up inside you. Wanda's infidelity is something you have learned to cope with long ago. But to discover that it can be substantiated with moving pictures and sounds leaves you grappling for answers.
“Did you know?” you ask steadily–while you can. “Did you know you were being recorded?”
Wanda can’t read the emotion behind your words as she shakes her head no. 
Wanda inches closer to you, until your legs are almost touching. With utmost care, she takes hold of one of your hands and places a flash drive in your palm, closing your fingers around it. Your instinctive response is to maintain a firm grip, clenching your fist tightly around the drive.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” she whispers. "If it wasn't for... for what I did, you’d be... we’d be..." Wanda's voice trails off as tears well up in the corners of her eyes, which she hastily wipes away.
Your own eyes moisten at the sight of her, but you manage to hold onto your rage to keep yourself from shattering altogether.
“I'm sorry he's resorting to this,” she continues, her gaze fixed on your clenched fist. “I'm sorry that this exists,” she adds, acknowledging the evidence of her betrayal in your hand. “I’d take it all back if I could.”
You feel the bandaid being ripped off the same wound that refuses to heal. 
How deep does this go and where does it end?
Wanda's breath hitches, her struggle to hold back a sob. You impulsively attempt to create some distance, a physical retreat. Yet, as you lean back, the solid presence of the armrest behind you seems to trap you in a greater sense–of simultaneously wanting Wanda close and wanting her as far away from you as possible.
Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife | @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant
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asumofwords · 10 months
Text
Smoke, Fire and Ash
Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.
This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.
Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)
Masterlist
Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.
Note: I am home from the shit show that was my work meeting haha. Feels good to be back in my own bed, and I will hopefully be able to write more and post more often. I went back through all my planned chapters and holy shit I have a lot hahaha, might have to cut it down a bit oops. Thanks for all your love and support as always and thank you so much for all the beautiful birthday wishes!!!! <3 Enjoy
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Chapter 69: Alone
You had stewed in your chambers, staring out the window at the water, willing the oceans swell to calm your rising waters, but it did nothing but let you sit in your bitter anger and resentment. Thinking of all the ways he had hurt you. Of all the ways he had wronged you. Of all the ways the Greens had taken everything from you. 
From your mother. 
From your brother. 
It spiralled out of control and you found the anger mount within you at a frightening pace. Your blood rushed in your ears as you stared into the fire, pacing in front of it. Thinking more and more of what they had done.
What they would do. 
What they could do. 
What you were forced to do. 
Forced to lay beneath a man you did not love. Forced to have his seed inside of you as he thrusted above, or below. Forced to kiss him back. Forced to smile at him, and dress prettily for him like a doll. 
You were voiceless. 
Powerless. 
Defenceless. 
You thought of how you had crawled on top of him and ridden him, seeking your own pleasure and basking in his. How you had moaned and whined, uttering his name to the Gods as you peaked. How you had let him touch you, hold you, whisper praise to you. 
The doors to the chambers had opened, and Aemond entered quietly, whispering your name as you stilled. Without turning to face him, you kept your eyes on the flames, watching them devour a log inside. Wishing the flames were devouring the Keep. Devouring the King. 
Devouring him. 
Aemond came to stand beside you, and you saw in your periphery that he placed your book down on the coffee table beside you. He uttered your name again, but you refused to meet his gaze. Refused to meet his eye knowing that you would lash out at him. 
Strike him. 
Curse at him. 
You wanted to hurt him.
You wanted to so badly that your fingers twitched at your side, forcing you to bite the inside of your cheek, tasting the bitter copper of your blood flood over your tongue. Your hands shook in anger, bawled in tight fists as he continued to stand there. 
What did he want?
My blessing?
To fuck her?
To leave me with them?
Fuck you.
Aemond whispered your nickname, trying once more to gain your attention, standing still as he watched you, but all it did was make you bristle. 
“Dracarys.” Came the whisper of Lucerys.
You blinked, and let your eyes drift to the window away from the raging flamed. 
There, seated on the seat beneath, was a mop of brunette hair you wished to bury your face into. The boy you missed dearly. Someone you would do anything to have back, including giving up your own life for his. 
Lucerys sat, wet, watching you, stiff backed, but eyes dangerously angry. His hair stuck to his forehead, robes dripping below him creating a puddle on the chambers stone floors.
He reflected the anger within you.
You clenched your jaw, refusing to turn to look at Aemond. Instead, keeping your eyes on Lucerys who continued to whisper over, and over.
Dracarys. 
Dracarys. 
Dracarys.
You heard Aemond sigh beside you. His footsteps moving away from you, halting by the door. Pausing as though he wished to say more. As though he wished to do more. Thinking, waiting, wanting. 
The chambers doors opened and then closed. 
Lucerys leant back against the window, watching you as you watched him. He looked comfortable now that Aemond was gone, relaxed, at ease. Like all the anger had drained out of him with his uncle’s leave. 
His head tilted, dark curls flopping over his forehead. His robes had stop dripping, the sound of water ceasing in the room, only to be filled with the crackling wood.
You moved to step forward, to reach out, to touch him. 
Would you feel him as you felt Helaena?
The young boys lips split into a smile, teeth showing and cheeks rosy. And with a blink, he was gone. 
You exhaled the breath you didn’t know you were holding and looked at the empty space he was was in. The space looked cold, sparse.
Haunted. 
Why did he have to leave?
Why could he not stay?
The book on the coffee table caught your attention, and all the rage and anger came back.
Grasping the book, you hurled it across the room, pouring all your anger and resentment, fear and disgust, into the movement as you screamed. The book flew across the room and hit the wall beside the window where Lucerys had been. It fell to the floor with a heavy thud, cover half ripped off in the impact, and pages bent beneath its weight on the stone floors.
You stood, chest heaving as you stared at it without moving.
When the sun had sunk below the horizon, the maids came to your chambers bringing your supper, and only yours, placing it on the table. The smell filled the room and your stomach rumbled. Only then did you move away from the book, only then did you make your way to the table to eat alone.
One of the girls moved to pick the book up from its discarded spot on the floor, seeing how your eyes never left its sight.
“Leave it.” You all but barked as the girl neared it, hand outstretched to pick it up. 
The maid rescinded her hand beside her, uttering an apology and moved to leave the chambers with the other girl quietly. 
You ate alone, stewing your anger. Replaying the events that had led up to this very moment over and over in your head. Every single waking moment where Aemond had imposed himself onto you. Where he had come to haunt you. Where he had come to hurt you.
His visits to your chambers when Viserys was still King. 
The glass in your feet. 
His fingers in your core. 
His hand around your neck. 
Lucerys.
The fall.
The wedding. 
All of it. 
The longer you thought, the more resentful you became, drinking the entirety of the decanter of wine, not caring for the headache that would no doubt greet you when you rose in the morning.
The maids came later when you had finished to tidy the chambers and ready you for bed. 
They did not greet you, nor did they bid you a good night. The two girls seemed to have sensed your anger, and most likely had learnt that keeping their head down and staying silent was the best way to deal with a Targaryens fury. 
They would have learnt this the hard way from serving Aemond. 
When your hair had been brushed, and you were dressed for bed, you moved to lay in the sheets of the bed and stared at the ceiling thinking. Waiting. Turning possibilities over in your head. Thinking of the promises you made to your family, thinking of your duties to them. 
You fell asleep that evening, the flames within being doused with wildfire. 
And you let it consume you. 
When you woke the next morning, your head throbbed, but your thoughts were clear. The maids came, and you greeted them softly. If you were to do this right, you needed their sympathy, their loyalty, their love. You needed to be kind to them, not bark orders at them like your husband.
You ate alone, were dressed with their help, and once you were readied for the day, you stood and walked to the side of the room where the book had spent the night. 
You stood over the black leather cover, looking down at how it had half of its spine separated from the glue. It was broken. Ripped apart. Yet it was still the same. Still held the same words of ‘The Fourteen Flames’. Still held the tales of the Gods. It was still, despite its outer appearance, a holder of memories, truth, secrets. 
Crouching down, you picked the book up, careful to not rip the spine any further, feeling its weight in your hand. The pages were a little bent from where it had fallen atop itself. The crisp paper creased and marked.
The Septa would be enraged if she saw this.
With a gentle hand, you smoothed out the bends and looked at the pages. 
Still the same words, still the same tales, just marked.
Never to be unmarked again.
Scarred. 
You were the same.
Scarred. Bent. 
Broken. 
No.
Not broken. 
Different. 
Changed.
You took the book down to the Gardens by the water to read.
The sun peaked behind clouds, occasionally casting warmth upon you. The soft formations moved across the skies, growing heavier with each passing, and you wondered if it would rain. 
You hoped that it wouldn’t. 
You spent your first day alone, as you always did, seated where you and Helaena always had, looking out at the water and reading. And when the day had ended, and the evening had creeped in, you went back to your chambers and ate alone, as always, and went to bed alone, as you would with the absence of Aemond. 
You had passed Aegon in the halls on the way back to your chambers, skin prickling and anger simmering as he smiled at you and continued on walking with Otto and Jasper Wylde.
That smile followed you into your dreams.
When you woke the next morning, you followed the familiar routine, though not having seen Lucerys again, and sat yourself at the water with the torn book. You wondered if you could ask for some glue, or perhaps should take it to the Septa or Maester or maids, and have them fix it for you. 
“I thought I would find you here.” 
You lifted your head at the voice to see Aegon approaching you, smirk on his face and hands behind his back. Ser Cole stood behind him as he approached you, armour tight on his body and crisp, white cloak clasped to his pauldrons. Your eyes flitted between the knight and the false King.
Aegon’s green robes had a large, golden, three headed dragon on the front. 
You looked at your eldest uncle expectantly, waiting for him to continue speaking. 
He walked around the space, looking at the table and chairs, the bench, and the flowers surrounding you in false interest. When he got close to where you sat, you shut the book in your lap with a thud, finger in-between the pages to keep your place. 
Cole stayed where he was, at the entrance of the sitting space, hand on the pummel of his sword. 
“Thought I would give my niece some company, now that her husband has gone from Kings Landing again.” Aegon sat himself on the pillow that Helaena favoured, and you had to force yourself not to scream. 
“Aemond is performing his duties to the realm.” You replied, watching the man closely as a smirk wound its way on his face.
Aegon cocked his head as the smirk rose higher, “I wasn’t aware that his duty was between a woman’s legs.”
Cunt. 
You breathed deeply, pushing down the fire that burned you hotly. 
“The Prince assured me that his duties lay elsewhere,” Lie, “By your command.”
Aegon frowned at you in a mocking manner, a falsely sad smile as though he pitied you, or found you to be simple. 
“I am sure that he did. My brother has other interests in Harrenhal that I don’t require.”
Was Aemond lying?
Aegon smirked as he saw your composure falter. Standing, the King looked out at the water.
“Helaena loved this spot.” 
Your brows furrowed as you stared up at him. 
How did he know that?
“She spoke of you often.” He added, but his voice was quieter.
Softer. 
Nostalgic.
You watched as Aegon turned his head, his silver waves moving to look down at you. And for the first time, you saw some form of mourning for his sister-wife.
His eyes were soft, and if you weren’t mistaken, held sorrow. But as soon as you had witnessed the storm cloud pass over his eyes, it went, and instead, the King grinned slimily down at you before bidding you a good day. 
You watched in confusion as Aegon left you behind to sit with your thoughts.
Did he love her?
Did he regret what he did to her?
Was there a small piece of Aegon that mourned her death and descent to madness?
Did he mourn his son?
You shook the thought away.
No.
No one who loves someone would do what he did to her. 
You went to bed that evening with a crawling feeling of being watched. You had to remind yourself that Aemond was not there.
You were alone in your chambers. 
And you woke alone the next day too. 
The same routine, just as bland as the last. 
Wake. Eat. Dress. Walk to the gardens to read. 
Yet now there was a new part of your routine which set you on edge, something that you couldn’t seem to escape, like flies on a hot day, or the smell of soldiers after training. It came as a great annoyance, an irritant. Something that stirred fear and fury alike within.
Something that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried.
Someone.
Aegon. 
The King came to visit again that day, Ser Cole behind him as he came to observe the water with you for a moment, if only, just for a moment. 
He made a comment about the weather, which had earned him a look of confusion, which had then earnt you a laugh in return. Aegon asked if you were in want of anything in the Keep whilst Aemond was away, and you had answered, uncertainty in your tone, that there was nothing you were in need of. 
Aegon had left you to your reading, yet you found that you could not concentrate for the rest of the day. When you returned to your chambers that evening, you had a crawling sensation upon your skin and felt dread begin to settle in. 
Aegon’s sudden interest in you whilst Aemond was away was not a good sign. His sudden interest in your wellbeing, the weather and your peace was not a change in heart, nor was it a King doing his duties. 
It was a man who was plotting.
A man who was fertilising the seed that he had sown, checking if it was time to reap.
A man who clearly had interests in Aemond being away for long periods of time. 
The next morning you refused to go down to the Gardens, instead keeping to your chambers, having your meals brought to you by the maids. You told yourself you were not hiding, and that you were tired. That you wished to see if Aegon would notice your absence and storm the chambers. That you were testing him in the same way he was testing you.
You wrote a letter to your family, telling them that you would regrettably not be able to join them for Jacaerys and Baela’s union, and each stroke of the quill made your heart break. You had cried as you wrote the letter, and tears landed upon the ink, causing it to smudge the ink, and the parchment to dry funny. 
You promised that upon Aemond’s return, that you would find when was best for you both to visit them. Perhaps on Driftmark, instead of Dragonstone. You had told them about the beautiful flowers in the Garden, and even made reference to one of the songs the Septa had sung.
You described the purple flowers, and hoped that they would understand, and that should anyone from the Greens read the letter, they would suspect naught. They would simply read the letter and see a lonely girl, writing to her family about the days that drag on, and the nights that get cold.
That evening you could scarcely eat your meal as you mourned the union you would miss. A union in which you desperately wished to see. A union of love. A union of promise. A union of happiness and goodwill. 
Something you wished you had. 
You felt a calmness in knowing that Baela would not meet the same fate as you. For to wish your own sister that fate would be a cruel thing indeed. You knew that their marriage would last, and bring laughter and happiness for them both. And you knew that Jacaerys would be loved and would love fiercely in return.
When you finally retreated to bed that evening, letter drying of your tears upon the table, you found that you tossed and turned until the hour of the owl, and the sun began to rise. When at last you did fall to sleep, you were haunted by dreams of a woman with black hair and glowing green eyes.
When you rose the next morning, you decided to go for a walk around the Keep, opting to not return to the Gardens until later that day, when the sun had begun its descent in the sky, and Aegon would no doubt have lost his interest, if indeed he had any at all, and went back into his chambers to drink himself into a stupor. 
Your feet ached from how much you had walked, and your stomach growled in protest. You had not stopped to eat, aimlessly walking around the Keep, checking each room, each chamber, and each corridor for how many guards were stationed there. If there were any guards at all. You would turn corners quickly and pause, pressed against walls as if in thought, but waiting to see if any familiar face followed behind.
Watching you. 
You watched the people go about their day, noting their appearance, their colours, and any house sigils they have have adorned. You used the day well, finding that every single passage to the Dragon Pit was heavily guarded, and a small servant boy with bright blue eyes seemed to round the castles corners at break neck speed when you would hide amongst the shadows. 
A day of observing had helped in more ways than one.
One one hand, you were beginning to recognise members of the court, their houses, their spouses, and their duties in the Keep. You were learning the movements of guards and knights. And were not at all surprised about the small servant boy following you. You wondered if he was a spy for Larys, or for somebody else.
Perhaps Aemond?
But then on the other hand, your walking and observing, counting and hiding, gave you an opportunity to desperately avoid the company of the King.
The more you moved, the less likely he would find you, and the more you would learn. 
The birds chirped in the trees as they readied themselves for their sleep, and the waves below rolled softly up the cliffs. A calm spread through you as you looked out at the water, leaning over the edge of the wall. The sky was a soft pink, like dragonfruit flesh in the spring, or the peonies that sat at the bottom of the Gardens.
“I’d say that you have been avoiding me.”
He was like mould that you thought you could clean away. Hands scrubbing the dark spores until the surface was clean, and you would stand back in triumph and look at your success. A false sense of conquest. Only for it to return some days, months, or even years later, Aegon would come back to haunt you. 
You didn’t bother to turn to face him as he came beside you, the sound of Cole’s armour clinking behind you noisily. He could not sneak about the Keep even if he tried. He should put bells on instead to announce his arrival. Aegon leant against the ledge beside you, looking out at the water and the sunset. 
“Perhaps you should take it as a subtle hint.” You purred, hoping the tone would keep him at bay.
Aegon laughed in earnest, a guttural laugh that was not spiteful or mocking in its tone. It was a true laugh to your comment. 
You sighed.
“Does it anger you?” Aegon asked, curiosity laced in his voice. 
“What?”
“That I am King.”
Yes. 
Dracarys.
“I didn’t think you were that stupid.” You mused, keeping your eye on the water as a way to keep the rising anger locked down.
Fucking stupid cunt.
Aegon laughed again, leaning further forward on the edge as he looked over it and down to the cliffs and ocean below. Images of you pushing him over and watching him fall to his death flashed across your mind. 
It could be easy. 
A hard push would send him tumbling over and down on to the jagged rocks below. With any luck, he wouldn’t die straight away, and would spend his last living moments in agony upon the cliffs, body twisted and broken. 
But a quick death would be too merciful for him. As much as you wished to see his head dashed against the rocks, skull and blood around his head like a halo, you knew it would be too swift, too unjust, too painless.
“I’ve missed our little talks.”
“I wasn’t aware that we had them.” You quipped back, voice light.
Breathe in. Breathe out. 
“It was a lot easier than I thought it would be.”
Aegon waited for you to ask ‘what’ but you didn’t. You had no desire to play into his little games, and so silence spread between the both of you uncomfortably, and fell flat like a bad joke. Aegon huffed at your silence, before turning to look at you. You could see his face in your periphery as he observed you. 
“Mother had told me when we were young, that I was the challenge to Rhaenyra’s succession. I didn’t believe her at the time, but it is my birthright to be King.”
You finally turned your head to face Aegon, a triumphant smile on his lips as he saw that you had finally turned to look at you. 
“Viserys never named you his heir. Not once.” You looked him up and down, pausing at the crown atop his head, “Not once in his life, did he see potential in you. Not once, did he see you as being worthy. But he saw it in my mother.”
“And yet I sit on the Iron Throne.”
“A punishment from the Gods, I’m sure.”
Aegon smirked, hand coming touch you. You stiffened and grit your teeth as one hand came to touch the hair that had fallen over your shoulder. He held it in his fingers before gently pulling on it. 
You stared at him blankly, but within you were fuming. Screaming at him in your head. 
You are no King. You could never be worthy of being a King. You are nothing but scum.
A waste of space. A waste of flesh, and air.
A pile of dragon shit would have more right to the throne than you.
You are filth.
I cannot wait to see you burn.
I cannot wait to hear your scre-
“I have missed your fire, niece. It gets boring in the Keep with all these Lords.”
“I’m sure you can find the comfort of someone’s cunt to dive into.”
“Only yours.”
You sneered at Aegon and slapped his hand away from your hair. The sound of Ser Cole moving towards you came from the side. Aegon lifted a hand to halt the knight and quiet fell around you.
“Aemond should return soon. I am sure your mood shall improve once he has warmed your bed. After he has warmed Alys'.”
“And you will return to your empty bed.” 
“Did you bleed when he took your maidenhead?”
You blinked. 
You were so taken back by the comment that you could not even respond. 
Aegon smiled as he looked at you.
“Does he fuck you often? He is such a serious man, always brooding. I wonder if he takes it out on you.”
“Your repulsiveness never ceases to amaze me.” You snipped, turning your body to face him, hands pressed at your side to prevent you from hitting your uncle.
A lazy smile stretched up his face. 
“Does he make you scream on his cock? Does he kiss your cunny til you weep?”
You breathed a heavy breath out your nose.
It could be so easy.
You could simply grasp his shoulders and hurl him over the edge. If he grasped your robes and took you with him, you would not be upset. At least he would be dead and you would be free. 
Aegon’s hand came to touch your hair again and you had to force yourself to hold still, touching the strand as it fell down the front of your gown, but his hand did not stop there. It trailed a path down the strands and grazed itself over your breast. 
Bile rose in your throat as he openly touched you. A thick finger trailed over your nipple and you felt it stiffen beneath your robes. His hand finally fell back to his side, eye locked on your breast, clearly able to see the way your body had reacted. 
Shame and disgust curled around your gut and you fought to not gag. You thought of the night in the dungeons and swallowed thickly, rushing away from him without a word. You fled back to your chambers, heart racing and tears rising to your eyes.
You moved through the Keep so quickly, so angrily, so fearfully, that your breath was caught in your throat and your eyes stung with tears.
There was no escape from him.
There was no escape from this.
You wished to act now. To push forward and cast the first blow, but it was too early. It was too rushed. And you knew that you had to endure for this to work. For the pieces to fall into place. For the Gods to give you a sign.
And until then, you would wait, and endure, and suffer. 
You passed the knight at the door of your chambers, swinging the door open and all but racing into the chambers. The door shut quietly behind you.
Your eyes were blurred with tears as you made your way to the fire, staring at its flames, trying to steady your breath and fury. Trying to force the bile that sat in the back of your throat back down into your stomach. 
It was too much.
It was overwhelming.
It was-
“Y/n?”
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daddy-dins-girl · 5 months
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First Date: Frankie Morales
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HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY Y'ALL!
Masterlist
AO3 link
Frankie Morales x f!Reader
Summary: Based on this tumblr Ask. A full one-shot based on a quick little headcanon drabble I wrote about what a first date with Frankie Morales might look like. There's a little of backstory for Reader because it's me and you know I just can't help myself.
Word Count: 5.2k
Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff and smut (because we like to strike a delicate balance here). Porn with a sprinkle of plot (again, delicate balance). Cuteness overload during your date with Frankie (sign me up for this date please). Heavy makeout session. Mutual masturbation. Fooling around in the back of Frankie's truck because of uh... reasons. Read to find out! I think that's it for warnings. As far as my stuff goes I'd say this is pretty tame? lol. But if I missed anything lmk!
Notes: I hope there aren't any glaring mistakes here. If I find any I'll come back and edit. Tbh I wrote 99% of it on my phone because our wifi was down for THREE DAYS here (RIP me!). It finally came back this morning just in time for me to post this for Frankie Friday ❤️
You tap your phone’s screen to illuminate it and check the time for probably the fifteenth time in as many minutes to make sure you’re not running late yet as you stand over the bathroom counter putting the final touches on your appearance, wanting to look perfect for tonight. Nerves flutter in your tummy like butterflies and you have to constantly remind yourself to calm down, take it easy.
“It’s just Fish, nothing to get yourself all worked up about” Benny had offered earlier, unhelpfully.
Sure, to your cousins Benny and Will it was just their longtime friend and military buddy, but to you it was the very cute, though very shy, sweet guy that you had met for the first time only recently since you came to “temporarily” crash at your cousins place.
Temporarily had turned into three months far faster than you anticipated. You needed a fresh start, to get out of a not great situation and it was actually your Aunt who had suggested the move to you during your phone call to her on her birthday. Your mother had already been filling her ear with your personal drama it seemed and though she didn’t want to pry, she did want to help and she suggested getting away for even a couple of weeks, that her sons had lots of room at their place and would be happy to have you for a while. After a few phone calls with both Will and Benny they had settled any doubts you might’ve had and welcomed you with open arms when you showed up at their doorstep with little more than a single roller suitcase and a small potted plant under your arm. It was about all the possessions you had left after the less than amicable split with your ex that left you couch surfing at your friends for months before the transition to Will and Benny’s.
So now here you stand, in the bathroom of the guest bedroom you have been calling your own for three months, getting ready for a date with the painstakingly handsome pilot himself, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales.
You know how badly your cousins have been teasing you about the date, you can’t even begin to imagine the ribbing Frankie must have been taking from them since he’d asked you out last Sunday at a barbecue Will and Benny had been hosting and they’d somehow gotten wind of it. You’re surprised Frankie even kept the date, to be honest. Your cousins, you love them with all your heart, but they can be… a lot. You’re very glad Frankie didn’t back down to the pressure though. You’d seen him a fair bit in your few months here and have been dying for him to finally ask you out. You’d flirted enough and though he’d been quiet and shy in the beginning, the more you got to know each other, the more he seemed to come out of his shell around you.
So now here you were, moments before Frankie was due to show up at your door and you silently cursed yourself for not being as ready as you should be. You wanted to be ready and standing outside by now so that Will and Benny couldn’t get any more jabs in to poor sweet Frankie if he had to stand at the door waiting for you, but as you pull on the short, light denim jacket over your sundress you hear a bark of laughter from Benny and already you know you’re too late.
You quickly press some lip gloss on, run your hands through your hair to make sure it’s falling exactly how you want it to and then take a deep breath in the mirror and quickly scurry out of the bedroom to hopefully save the man that is standing outside on the porch.
“No keeping her out past curfew, no drinkin’ and drivin’, no crazy parties or gettin’ too handsy on the first date”
Benny is listing things off on his fingers to poor Frankie like he’s your father scalding your prom date and you can’t help but roll your eyes.
“Will, you said you’d both be nice” you complain out loud to the older of the two brothers. Will wasn’t much better, but sometimes talking to Benny was like talking to a toddler amped up on a pack of Skittles, there was no getting through when he got over excited about something.
The most ridiculous part about it was that you and Benny were about the same age so it was a little comical, though sweet in his own way, how he tried to ‘big brother’ you.
“Ah c’mon Ace, we were just joshin’ him a bit” Will replies, bright white smile gleaming at you with a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.
Ace of course being the nickname they had stuck you with since you were old enough to remember. Any family event you’d ever attended whenever there was any sort of game or sport going on the two boys always ensured you were on their team, likely because you were the only one close in age to them but you liked to tell yourself that it was also because the three of you always had fun together. They have always been so competitive and any time they won (largely due to their own efforts) they were sure to tell everyone that it was all because of you, that you were ‘the ace up their sleeve’ even when you barely did anything. Hell most softball games you preferred to sit in the grass picking flowers while they ran circles around you like pro athletes, but it was sweet how they always made sure to include you and make you feel good about yourself.
“Well we agreed you two goons wouldn’t scare him away” you remind them with a playful roll of your eyes and a swat to Benny’s shoulder when you finally reach the doorway.
You can see Frankie’s appreciative gaze roam over you from head to toe and as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nervously adjusts his ball cap you know he’s itching to say something to you but probably weighing the pros and cons in his head about the two extra sets of ears hearing what’s meant only for you and so you decide for him. You shove past your two cousins, quickly tell them you love them and not to wait up and push them far enough back in the house so you can slam the door shut, finally leaving you on the porch with just Frankie.
“Hi” you breathe out, a smile spreading across your lips. He looks casual but deliciously handsome in a pair of dark tan khaki pants and an untucked light blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, putting his tanned and muscular forearms on display. He still has his infamous Standard Oil hat on, hints of chocolate brown curls peeking out from underneath it. You don’t think you’ve actually ever seen him without it, come to think of it. You try to picture him without it and an image just doesn’t come.
“You look beautiful” he tells you, a hint of shyness in his tone and a blush rises in your cheeks that didn’t come from a makeup stick.
“Thank you. I’m sorry about tweedle-dee and tweedle-A-D-D in there” you joke, gesturing a thumb over your shoulder at your two cousins who are currently fighting each other over who gets to look through the small pane of glass next to the door to watch your interactions with Frankie on the front step.
“Unfortunately I’m very used to it” he quips, giving you a warm smile. “Shall we?” He asks, sweeping an arm out towards his truck idling at the curb and you nod your head and lead the way.
Before you reach the truck however Frankie jogs up behind you to brush past and ensures he reaches the passenger door handle before you do and opens it wide, offering you a hand to help you up and inside. You both decide to ignore the whooping yells and hands slamming on the glass next to the door at the top of the walkway behind you.
“Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” You offer once Frankie’s climbed into the driver's seat next to you and he chuckles but nods his head.
“With pleasure” he agrees and pulls the truck away from the curb.
You’re driving for nearly an hour. Frankie had apologized already on several occasions, admonishing himself for not preparing you beforehand to make sure you wouldn’t be too hungry when he picked you up. You tell him it's fine countless times but he still admits he should’ve discussed his plan with you ahead of time.
“Hey, if what you say is true and these really are the best tacos I’ve ever had, you’ll not only be forgiven but I’ll be glad I was ravenous by the time we get there” you tell him and finally he seems to accept it and offers you a small smile, hand going to the dial on the radio to turn the classic rock tunes up just a little bit for the last few minutes of your drive.
The drive is nice. The ocean follows along in your journey when you look out your window and the way the sun sits in the sky you know it’ll be threatening to set not long after you arrive at your destination. Truth be told you were a little nervous when you first started driving and Frankie mentioned how long the trip would be. You worried that you wouldn’t have much to chat about or that it might get awkward but it had been anything but. Besides Frankie’s little bouts of anxiety about whether or not he should’ve mentioned to you what time you’d actually be eating, everything was going better than you had expected. The conversation seemed to flow easily between the two of you. You had enough jumping off points, with both of you having more than your fair share of stories or anecdotes about Will and Benny. You shared stories of your youths while Frankie caught you up on some of the more recent goings-on with them that you hadn’t been privy to since, before recently, you obviously spent a lot less time with them in your adult years versus the childhood ones. Before long the conversations shifted more to yourselves and your own personal lives and before you knew it Frankie was pulling the truck into a crowded parking lot in front of the beach.
You make your way through the throngs of people on the boardwalk, Frankie’s warm hand on your lower back a steadying presence as he guides you through the crowds towards the brightly painted green and yellow food truck off in the not-too-far distance. Your mouth is watering already and you’re not sure whether it’s for the tacos or the man on your left with the broad shoulders and thick arms but a gentle, calming touch.
If you had to venture a guess, it would be for the latter.
Frankie, to his credit, was absolutely right about the tacos. You’re halfway through your third one when you finally tap out and call it quits, unable to possibly stomach another bite - despite how delicious they are.
“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t” you admit defeat to what’s left of your dinner, tossing your napkin on top of your paper plate and holding your hands up in surrender and the corner of Frankie’s mouth curls up into a smirk.
“They’re good right?” He grins at you from across the picnic table while he stuffs the last bite of his own into his mouth and you roll your eyes dramatically at how good in fact they were.
“They were amazing, seriously. Well worth the drive and the wait” you tell him sincerely and then before you can talk yourself out of it you reach across the table to place your hand on top of his and give a little squeeze with your fingers.
“Thank you for dinner. I’m um… really glad you asked me out tonight”
That confession earns you an ear to ear grin from Frankie who swallows down the last bit of his dinner and then turns his hand palm-up so he can hold your fingers in his grasp.
“Me too. But, the night’s not over” he offers with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.
“There’s more?” Your brow line lifts to your forehead. “I’m going to need a few minutes to digest first” you laugh, placing a hand over your stomach and Frankie chuckles but nods his head in agreement.
“Take all the time you need,” he tells you.
The sun is beginning its descent from the sky as you sit at the table a while longer, happily chatting about everything and nothing. You ask Frankie more about his young daughter and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips the way his face lights up when he speaks about her or shows you his favourite pictures or videos of her on his phone.
With your food finally settled you’re back to wandering the boardwalk again with Frankie leading the way. He stops you at an ice cream truck and you groan at the idea of having to shove more food into your stomach but the childish grin and teasing nudge to your side with his elbow convinces you to take him up on his offer anyway and you ask for small scoop of the bright orange Tiger Stripe flavour in a dish while Frankie opts for a waffle cone of classic Mint Chocolate Chip.
With no small effort you manage to finish the sweet dessert and toss your garbage into a nearby receptacle and Frankie nudges your shoulder with his and gestures with an outstretched arm towards the beach.
“Wanna go walk it off?” He suggests and you give him an easy smile, more than excited about taking a romantic walk down the beach at sunset with him.
The warm sand squishes between your toes as you walk the length of the beach. Frankie had insisted on carrying your shoes for you when you opted to take them off; the strappy sandals hanging from the fingertips of his right hand while his left brushes experimentally against the back of your right and you turn your palm towards him and he wastes no time taking hold, your fingers interlacing. You smile and press a little closer into his shoulder.
“This is perfect” you sigh as soft waves lap at your feet and the sun bids it’s final adieu for the evening, disappearing just past the horizon on the other side of the ocean.
“So I did good?” Frankie smirks at you and you let out a little laugh, nodding your head.
“Ten out of ten would recommend” you answer without hesitation.
“Recommend to who? If you think I’m taking Benny on a date next you’re poorly mistaken” he jokes and it earns an outburst of laughter from you as you grab onto his forearm with your free hand and lean further in still.
“You guys could make a pretty cute couple” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head in laughter.
“Already got the prettiest Miller on my arm, thank you very much” he affirms and your giggles die down as the blush re-emerges and you turn your gaze down to the sand at your feet and squeeze his arm just a little tighter as a thank you to his easy compliment.
You walk a little while longer, your fingers still entwined and your free hand wrapped around his arm that’s holding your hand, snuggling as close as possible while you continue to chat and joke and tease each other.
Being with Frankie seems so easy. Normally you were so nervous during first dates and it’s been so long since you’ve actually been on one you could barely remember what it normally feels like but you’re certain it’s never felt like this. You felt comfortable. And maybe a lot of that had to do with the fact that you’ve already met with and hung out with him on numerous occasions now there was less to be nervous about. But you think it’s mostly him. He’s so easy going and calm to be around; he just puts you at ease with one upward curve of his lips or the way his soft brown gaze seemingly bores into your very soul with a single look.
Besides that, you knew he must be a pretty decent guy or Will and Benny would’ve had something (aside from friendly teasing) to say about it. They were the big brothers you never had growing up, always looking out for you until your lives took you all down very separate paths and if they trusted Frankie with you, you knew you were in good hands.
Hands that were currently, mind you, smoothing up and down your sides as Frankie pressed you into the passenger door of his pickup as you stood on the street outside your temporary home saying your goodnights.
“Kiss me” you breathe into the limited space between your two bodies that are thrumming with unspent energy.
Not bothering with a verbal response, Frankie closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours finally for that first kiss you’ve been craving since he picked you up hours ago. He tastes like mint and chocolate, and although normally it would be one of the last options you go for at the ice cream shop, the way it tastes on Frankie’s tongue instantly makes it your new favourite.
The energy in the cab of his truck the whole ride back had been tangible, his right hand on your thigh, yours trying not to dig into the plush material of the seats as you tried to focus your mind on anything other than ordering him to pull the truck into park so you could crawl into his lap and thank him properly, the way you wanted to so badly.
“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, his mouth trailing now from your lips down your jaw and to the side of your throat as his hands grip your hips. The scruff of his beard brushes the delicate skin of your neck when he nuzzles further into you and heat instantly pools in the lower part of your belly, causing a little moan to slip out. You feel your breath quicken, heart rate speeding up to keep pace with Frankie’s that you can feel through your clothes with how closely he’s pressed against you. Your arms raise to wrap around his neck, hands playing with the soft curls at the back of his head, running your fingers through them (something you’d been dying to do since the first time you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself).
“Should’ve taken me back to yours” you whisper against his ear as he continues to nip, lick and kiss at your throat.
“Santi’s on my goddamn couch” he groans, annoyed.
You remembered, now that he’s said it. Santiago, another military buddy of your cousins that you’d met a few times and one of Frankie’s best friends, had been having problems with his girlfriend and a week ago she had actually kicked him out of their shared apartment and with you taking up residence in Will and Benny’s guest room, that left Frankie’s couch.
“Shit” you mutter. You don’t dare take him inside to your room. Though the house looks dark and the boys are probably asleep, that’s not something you’re going to chance. At least not on a first date. You don’t need their judgment, nor do you need Frankie holding anything back from you due to the unfortunate circumstances.
His mouth is back on yours, unable to stay away from it for long it seems. His tongue pushes inside and strokes alongside yours, causing a little shiver to run down your spine. He licks into your mouth, exploring every cavern and swallowing all your little whimpers and whines. Frankie was an amazing kisser. You can’t help but wonder how talented his tongue may be elsewhere; the thought alone sending a fresh wave of arousal through you and causing another moan to slip out which Frankie responds to with one of his own. His right hand leaves your hip and goes to your thigh next, gently raising your leg off the ground to wrap around him and a gasp escapes you when his hand slips under the hem of your dress and trails upwards towards your hip.
“Fuck, Frankie” you breathe, pulling back just enough so you can start peppering kisses to his strong jawline.
“Tell me to stop, fuck, you need to tell me stop” Frankie pleads. You can feel his obvious desire for you pressed into your stomach as his left hand moves down to grope your ass and pull you even closer against him.
“Mmm, don’t want to” you hum into his throat and he groans in desperation, rocking his hips into you and causing a delicious bit of friction where you need it most. Your whole body is tingling, feeling like you could combust at any moment. Your muscles are tense, hands fighting for purchase on any part of him they can grab onto, eager to keep him from convincing himself to pull away from you.
Just when you feel him begin to pull back you do the only thing that comes to mind and turn in his grasp and reach for the back passenger door of the crew cab, swinging it open and pulling him back towards you by the collar of his shirt.
“Fuck, Sweetheart” he stops dead in his tracks, feet outside on the ground still while your ass hits the back seat so you’re seated sideways on the seat, facing him.
“Look, I might not be up for Gentleman of the Year Award or anything, but I’m not… I can’t have our first time be in the back of my truck. You deserve so much better than that”
Your brain doesn’t miss how he says ‘first time’ like it implies that there will be more times, and god you hope there is. And while you don’t disagree with him that fucking in his car like teenagers isn’t maybe the most romantic way to do this, you still need something and you don’t want this night to be over yet.
“Just… come fool around with me a little bit” you shrug, coy little grin tugging at the corners of your lips and you see on his adorable face the moment his resolve crumbles. He’s hopping up into the truck in a flash, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushes you back onto the bench seat so you’re flat on your back and finally rips his hat off his head and tosses it carelessly somewhere to the floor and you’re in a fit of giggles at the playfulness of it all. The laughter dies on your lips however when he’s kneeled before your spread legs and drags your knees up to his hips and presses himself down on top of you, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss while his lower half grinds into yours.
“Is this OK?” He murmurs into the side of your face as his kisses trail towards your throat.
“Mmm hmm” you nod frantically. “More than OK” you promise.
He hums into your throat and brings his right hand to your breast, his large hand covering the mound and gently massaging the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing just right as your little moans and the way your back arches to push your chest further into his touch encourages him.
“Fuck,” he growls before shoving the front of your dress and cups of your bra down so he can get his mouth on bare skin.
He pulls away from your throat and shuffles down slightly, leaning down to swirl the tip of his tongue around the pert bud and then gently pull it into his mouth. He alternates between sucking it into his mouth and teasing with quick flicks of his tongue while nimble fingers pay the other equal attention and you writhe underneath him, grinding into his leg, desperate for any friction you can create.
“Perfect tits” he mumbles into your skin before his mouth switches sides. Your hands are in his hair, gently tugging and scratching over his scalp and the way he occasionally groans and grunts at your actions you know he likes it. You wish you weren’t shoved inside the back of his pickup right now. Oh the things you would let his mouth do to you if you weren’t…
After long minutes of attention spent on your breasts his mouth is finally back on yours. He moans into you when his tongue wraps around yours again and you decide to play a little dirty yourself and wrap your lips around his tongue and suck it into your mouth, just for a moment and then you release. You feel his hardened cock twitch against your hip when he grinds it into you.
“Tell me what you want, Baby” he asks between ragged breaths as his lips create a hot trail of open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.
You decide to show him, rather than tell him, and reach for his right hand and bring it underneath your dress to the aching need between your thighs and he practically growls into your throat when he feels the damp spot that’s already formed on your panties.
“Oh my god” he groans, taking his first two fingers and rubbing your lower lips over the soft, soaked lace.
“Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel so good” you whine, not caring how wrecked you sound already.
His mouth covers yours again, his kiss hungry and needy as his fingers bravely dip under the waistline of your panties to finally touch your naked sex and push through the warm slick folds.
“Oh my god, make me come baby, please. Fuck.” You beg, your hands wrapping around his neck again and grabbing on for dear life. It’s been far too long and Frankie is quickly unraveling you into a mewling desperate mess.
“I’ve got you, Hermosa” Frankie promises, his breath hot against your ear now and you don’t doubt that he does. His skilled digits are already driving you crazy and he’s barely begun. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while, or maybe Frankie just really knows his way around a pussy.
He plunges two fingers inside of you and you cry out at the welcomed intrusion, whimpering into his shoulder at how he’s nearly got you undone already.
“God you feel fucking amazing” he groans into your heated flesh.
“Fuck Frankie, don’t stop, please” you whimper.
He doesn’t. His fingers continue their torturous assault, pumping in and out of you and occasionally coming out to rub tight little circles around your small bundle of nerves that causes your arm to shoot up in the air, palm of your hand pushing hard against the ceiling of the truck cab as your impending orgasm lingers threateningly.
“Let me touch you, please” you beg and Frankie growls in response before his free hand goes to his pants and nearly rips them open so he can push them down to his thighs and your hand immediately wraps around his throbbing length.
“Holy shit” you breathe. Your fingers failing to quite reach all the way around his impressive girth. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, precum steadily leaking from the head that you gather in your hand to use to coat down the rest of his length.
“Christ” Frankie grunts, unable to stop himself from thrusting his hips once to fuck into your hand. “Shit I’m sorry it’s um, been a while” he confesses shyly and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“For me too” you tell him, easing his nerves. “God Frankie, I’m so close”
With that he pulls his hand away from you for only a moment, bringing it to his mouth to wet his fingers with his tongue and then they’re back on your clit, experimenting between rubbing and circling and pressing and even lightly pinching until he finds out exactly what makes you squirm under him and he doubles his efforts, working you faster and faster with the pads of his fingertips until you’re coming hard and fast with his name on your lips as you rock into his hand to chase the pressure of his touch.
“Oh fuck, that’s it” Frankie groans into the hollow of your throat, his fingers sticky and slick with your release. “God you’re so beautiful” he praises, pressing kisses to every inch of flesh he can reach.
His fingers continue to languidly stroke through your folds, easing you down from your high while his own breathing picks up at your continued actions below; practiced strokes of your hand wrapped around him while your thumb occasionally ghosts over his slit, gathering the evidence of his arousal and smearing it all over the thick and sensitive head.
“Fuck, I’m close” he warns, eyes screwed shut in concentration, his forehead now resting against yours. “Fuck!” He curses again and then quickly sits up on his knees, causing your hand to fall away from him and he takes himself in hand to finish himself off, not wanting to make a mess all over you or your pretty dress. Not having much option he yanks his shirt up instead and coats his own stomach with white hot ropes of his release until he’s left heaving and panting on his knees before you, free hand clutched tight on your knee beside him, fingers digging in deep enough you think they’ll leave bruises.
You’ll wear them like a badge of honor.
“Shit,” he breathes and then huffs out a little laugh. His eyes dart around for a moment and then he reaches into the little pocket on the back of the front passengers seat and pulls out a somewhat squished little pack of wet wipes (one of the conveniences of having a small child you presume, always lots of supplies around that adults might not otherwise think of keeping handy) and grabs a couple sheets and wipes up the mess he made of himself before shoving the wipes back into the pocket. You’re staring up at him, tip of your pointer finger between your teeth and a coy grin playing on your lips.
That was by far the absolute hottest make out session you’d ever had. Where has Frankie Morales been all your life, and what had you done to deserve him now?
“Are you still OK? That was… OK?” He asks and it’s sweet how he doesn’t even know how badly he just rocked your whole world.
“Ten out of ten would recommend” you retort teasingly, lifting your foot to push gently at his hip and he rolls his eyes playfully and lands a little swat to your thigh.
“Smartass. Maybe I oughta trade you in for Benny after all” he quips. “Get a lot less lip I bet”
“Hmm, but probably a lot less tongue too” you tease right back and he groans as you yank him down on top of you by his collar once more.
You’re not quite finished with Frankie Morales just yet.
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familyvideostevie · 6 months
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october twelfth
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day twelve: james potter you encounter james at the bus stop | fluff, pre-relationship, flirty friends | 1.1k
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The dark clouds loom ominously as you wait for the bus. It’s the best way to get to the pub for the birthday party you’ve been invited to. You don’t know the birthday girl that well, but Lily invited you because she’s nice like that and you don’t have anything else to do tonight.
Your small gift — a bottle of wine — is in your bag and you’re glad you brought your umbrella because you are almost positive it’s going to start raining any second and you’ve got a nice outfit on.
A fall wind rips down the street and you pull your coat closer, eager to be at the pub already with a drink in your hand to warm you up. You wonder who else will be there. Frank, of course, and Lily and the girls. Sirius and Remus and…James. They’re all new friends, all people who seem to like you, and you can’t help but hope that one person in particular will be there.
And then the skies open. You fumble with your umbrella for just a second before it pops open and keeps you dry. It’s absurdly big — an old flatmate left it behind when she moved out so you took it. You could fit three people under here and you hope the wind dies down otherwise you might be like Mary Poppins flying down the street pretty soon.
You check your watch. The bus isn’t due for almost ten minutes.
There isn’t anyone else waiting for the bus though the street isn’t deserted, instead dotted with people pulling out their umbrellas and hurrying to wherever they’re headed. Heavy footsteps clomp to your right and you turn to see who is running in this weather. It’s someone rather tall who inspects the bus stop sign and then curses. He pulls off his wet glasses and runs a hand through dripping dark hair.
Oh shit, you think. You know this guy.
“James?” you call. You don’t know if he’ll recognize you, truly, even if you’re a bit infatuated with him, but you’ve met him a few times at dinners and parties and such, so surely he will? You think of him as Lily’s cutest ex-boyfriend in your head to stop yourself from calling him hot James.
He looks up at you, squints, then puts his glasses back on and grins.
He calls your name and waves but doesn’t move. Thank god he remembers it. “James, come here. You’re going to get soaked!”
Water splashes under his shoes as he jogs over and under your umbrella. It’s big, sure, but it feels much smaller with him hunched under it with you.
“Bit late for that,” he says. “Can I hold it?” He’s taller than any of your other friends so you hand over the handle and he shuffles a bit closer, raising the canopy to a better height for him. “Thank you,” he says with genuine warmth.
“Of course,” you reply automatically. You get a bit silly around him, which Lily has teased you about, but you can’t help it. He’s so handsome and quite flirty and very nice.
“Are you going to Alice’s birthday?”
You nod and he grins again.
“Brilliant,” he says. “I am too. Thought I’d miss the bus so I left without one of these.”
James strikes you as someone who does not carry an umbrella even when he knows it’s going to rain. You wonder if he lives around here. Maybe you’re neighbors.
“Lucky I’m here then.”
He turns his body a bit so he’s facing you more directly. “Yes, lucky indeed.”
“What did you get her?” you ask. How do you make small talk, again? You’re not terribly sure how to speak to James. All you know about him is that he and Lily dated at school, he’s tall and handsome, and he plays some sort of sport. And you’ve certainly got a small, tiny, totally manageable crush on him.
“What?”
“Alice,” you clarify. “For her birthday.”
“Oh,” he says. He looks sheepish. “I forgot, actually. Bit classic of me, I’m afraid. What did you get?”
“Wine.”
“Clever girl,” he says. You feel warm down to your toes. “She loves wine.” He sounds genuine in his praise. “I’ll just buy her some shots when we get there.”
You like how quickly this has turned into we, even if you’re just taking the same bus to the same party. It feels nice to be going with him. There’s something about him that’s…magnetic.
“When is your birthday?” you ask.
James looks a bit surprised. You’ve surprised yourself. Water runs down his nose as he studies you. “March,” he says. “The 27th.”
“Aries,” you say softly.
He winks, so quick you might have imagined it. “Well done. When’s yours?”
You tell him and he nods. “I’m no good with star signs, I’m afraid, so I’ve no idea which one you are.”
He sounds so genuinely put out that you laugh. James chuckles with you.
“Why do you ask?” Great question.
You shrug. “I just like to know. Maybe I’ll get you a present.”
James looks delighted. “Really? Well, now I’m absolutely getting you one.” Is this flirting? Are you flirting with James Potter under your own umbrella while waiting for the bus?
“I guess you’ll have to find out,” you say, nose turned up. Your face feels a bit hot despite the chill. You’re about to make another quip when James moves very quickly and suddenly his arm is around you, tugging you away from the curb moments before a car rushes by and sprays water all over where you were standing.
“Sorry,” he says. He releases you and situates himself so that the umbrella handle is between you once more. “Saw that coming. And those are nice shoes.”
“Thank you,” you say, a bit shy. You would like him to touch you again.
“In fact, all of you looks quite lovely despite the fact that it’s raining absolute buckets.”
Yeah, definetly flirting. “James,” you chastise, but he looks downright pleased that he’s flustered you.
The bus rounds the corner.
“And we were just starting to have fun.” He fumbles for his bus pass in his pocket. “Will you sit with me?” A silly question.
“Of course,” you say through a smile. “You can hold this, though.” You point to the umbrella. “Don’t let it drip on my shoes.”
He gasps as the bus pulls to a stop. “I’d never.” His palm is firm on your back for just a second before you get on the bus. Maybe tonight’s birthday party will be more fun than you’d hoped.
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munsonsreputation · 9 months
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21 (already under)
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eddie munson x fem!reader
word count: [3.2K]
warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, lovers to strangers, mentions of underage drinking, crying (mentions of breakup), isolation, brief talk of anxiety, cursing, angst...ambiguous ending (maybe part 2)
summary: it's eddie's 21st birthday and though you two have been broken up for 2 years, you can't help but wonder if you should call him up and wish him a happy birthday. but to your surprise, it seems he has already beaten you to it.
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Pacing back and forth in the living room of your apartment isn’t ideally how you imagined to be spending your Saturday night, but in hindsight, these days you practically spent the entire day confined to the four walls.
Your days used to be filled with stops at the trailer park to visit your favorite metal head and nights spent at the Hideout being his biggest fan in the crowd. But all of that, including him was now gone in the rearview for quite some time.
So much time had passed, but at the same time it felt like it was just yesterday where you and him went your separate ways, living two completely different lives in the same small town where you did your best to avoid each other.
But how could you avoid him without running into his friends or stumbling into Uncle Wayne at the grocery store from time to time?
All of it was just fucking impossible, and a huge chunk of you wanted to pack your things up and move away, but you knew his ghost would follow you everywhere no matter where you were in the world.
Even tonight, in the confines of your apartment, you couldn’t avoid him.
It was his twenty-first birthday today. The big 2-1 that marked the age where he could finally drink legally without facing any repercussions from Hopper. A coming of age that was supposed to be celebrated with you next to him at the Hideout.
You two had planned it out years ago when you were just seniors hanging out at Lover’s Lake with your hands intertwined and the sun setting down on the both of you.
“Hopper is gonna lose his shit if you get busted for underage drinking again.” You chided quietly, feeling him pull one of his hands away from your waist to reach over and grab an ice cold beer from the small cooler he packed.
He rolled his eyes playfully, taking a swig of the bitter before holding it out for you.
“He did the same thing when he was our age…maybe even a little worse! He’s got to cut me some slack.”
“In three years, you’ll be 21, then that’s when he’ll cut you some.”
Eddie scoffed, slinging his arm across your shoulders, tugging you close to him as you squealed, trying not to spill the beer all over the both of you. Resting your head on his shoulder, you got comfortable, taking a sip of the drink that was definitely not your choice of beverage on a scorching afternoon, but it would make do for now.
“My 21st is gonna be at the Hideout, obviously.” He said, rubbing his hand up and down the expanse of your arm.
You looked at up him through your lashes, blinking kindly, “Yeah? I just know the groupies are going to have a field day with you.”
He met your eyes followed by a dramatic huff as he shook his head and squeezed your skin lightly, almost in a soft, scolding way.
“Stop that. You know you’re my favorite fan…my one and only groupie.”
You scrunched your face up at him lovingly, puckering your lips and silently asking him to grant you with one of his famous kisses that you would never get tired of — even if it was a little peck.
“Do I still need to RSVP or will the offer still stand?” You mumbled against his lips.
You could feel his smile against your skin, before feeling another kiss come down on them.
“It wouldn’t be a celebration without you there.”
Yet here you were years later anxiously pacing your apartment and contemplating whether you should pick up the phone and at least greet him on his birthday before the clock strike midnight.
Part of you wanted to think that the split between you and Eddie was amicable, but in reality it was something so far from that. You had always thought that maybe Eddie would have seen it coming — that the growing distance and constant fighting was a telltale-sign of a break.
But he didn’t see it at all. In fact, he was completely blindsided.
“Just tell me how to make it better.” Eddie pleaded, holding your face in his hands, attempting to try to change your mind about your decision.
You couldn’t bear to look at him, to see the desperation, heartache, and confusion cluttering his features in the worst kind of way — the way that you couldn’t fix because it was coming from you.
“There’s nothing you can do,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tightly as the salt poured down your cheeks and you forced your face away from his gentle touch.
He pursed his lips together, rubbing a rough hand down his face as the silence ate him up whole, not knowing if he was man enough to go in for a hug or ask you to leave and forget that you two ever existed in a world where you two loved each other.
Because he still loved you, even when you were standing in front of him, breaking his heart into a million pieces that were bound to be shattered all over again if he tried to make any other offers to fix it — fix you two.
Your sobs filled his bedroom, cries that even you couldn’t explain because no matter the distance or stupid fights you and Eddie got into, this was the last thing you wanted to do. Desperately you wanted to see it through, to know that you and him would grow out of the phase together and come out of it stronger, but you knew deep down that this was what you needed.
What your heart needed.
“I’m sorry.” You whispered, swiping your fingers over your eyes as you finally opened them, met with the sight of him still crestfallen.
You couldn’t stand to be there any longer, brushing past his figure as you dashed through the trailer and dug for your car keys in your pocket. He didn’t chase after you — you had already left him standing there and he couldn’t bear watching you drive away too.
You weren’t sure what you were sorry for — perhaps everything.
The way it went down.
For not giving him any warning signs.
Leaving him with no closure at all.
If he was taking the heartbreak personally, you wouldn’t blame him because if he had done you the way you did him, you’d be avoiding him, too.
In defense, he avoided you first, ignoring phone calls where you wanted to check up on him and see how he was doing. Instead, you were met with Uncle Wayne’s voice telling you that the boy was busy — busying himself with trying to forget you.
“Who is it?”
You could hear him asking in the background, quickly covered up by his uncle clearing his throat trying to mask his nephew’s voice. It was then that you understood that things would never be the same, that Eddie couldn’t even bring himself to talk to you anymore because for him it was like torture.
But sometimes you’d imagine it would be different had you gone a different route with ending things with him. That maybe if you had let him down slowly you two would still be friends, maybe even the potential of getting back together someday.
Late nights since the breakup were spent dreaming up the scenarios where you and Eddie could co-exist—
“How are doing?” You asked honestly, reaching out a steady hand that you rested upon his watching the way his eyes flickered with content.
“Fine. I’m doing really fine.”
But then you wake up, the black and white in your dark bedroom and the empty spot beside you, a reminder that it wasn’t real, and it sure wasn’t forever. That you had left him unexpectedly with a flame without yours…leaving him on fire.
The sound of your landline ringing halted your undying pacing. Your stare burning a hole through the phone that rattled on your coffee table. It was nearly eleven, just an hour left before his birthday would be done and over with.
He was probably at the Hideout celebrating with his band, so it couldn’t possibly be him.
“H-hello?” You answered, kneeling at the table while one hand picked up the phone and the other held your forehead.
“Hey you, how is it going?”
Robin Buckley, the only person in Eddie’s life that still remained in yours, but from a distance. No in person hang outs or daily phone calls, just occasional check in’s to see how you were holding up because she knew that the breakup was still affecting you the way it was doing Eddie.
You sighed, shutting your eyes as your fingers rubbed your temples.
“I—I’m fine…you know, just hanging around. What about you?”
There wasn’t much energy you had left to try to convince her that you were doing something way more interesting than overthinking the night away. Despite you and her not being really close or acquainted, Robin was an expert at one thing, and that was reading between the lines and picking up on things.
She didn’t want to put you on the spot. To tell you that from your voice alone, she could tell you were lying through your teeth. She already knew it was hard enough already and her pointing it out would only make you feel worse.
So she cut to the chase.
“I saw Eddie tonight…at the Hideout for his birthday. Nance and I stopped by to buy him a few drinks and give him his present. He’s wasted. I mean just completely shit faced—”
You took a sharp breath in, squinting your eyes that were about to turn salty all over again.
“Why are you telling me this?”
It came out harsher than you wanted, but really the last thing you wanted to hear about was how Eddie was having such a blast without you there. Part of you wanted to think that he would relocate his birthday celebration, assuming it would bring up too much hurt partying in the place where he planned to do it with you.
There was a hitch in her breathing, probably partly taken aback by your tone, but she worked past that.
“I just thought you should know…”
Her voice teetered on the edge of wanting to say more, to tell you the full story, but she didn’t. She didn’t know if it was her place to tell you everything Eddie had said tonight, how his birthday celebration came to shit the second he got an ounce of tipsy.
“I appreciate it, Robin, but really, I’m—I’m over it, him,” you corrected, “I know he’s having fun.”
You didn’t mean to just hang up without allowing her to speak or say goodbye, but you couldn’t help it. One more second on the line with her and even just another word spoken of his name, then you were sure that you’d end up a crying mess with her consoling you through the phone.
You didn’t want to picture him half drunk happy, chugging down shots without a care in the world for the hangover he’d have the next morning. The way he’d have to wake up without someone taking care of him and holding his hair back as he’d throw up everything in his system. The thought of thinking about who was going to drive him home and get him back to the trailer safely.
It was sickening…the worrying thoughts that still lingered in your head when it came to him. How you shouldn’t even be concerned in the first place because he was an adult and capable of taking care of himself. Yet here you were still worrying, imagining the life you two would be living if you stayed in each other’s lives.
Even two years later this feeling didn’t budge and you were sure that if it kept up, it would be enough confirmation that you had made the biggest mistake of your life — letting your one true love slip through your fingers and now all that he would be was a painful reminder of the love you lost when you were younger.
And you were afraid that how it was going to stay.
You ran your fingers through your hair, giving the ends of them a particularly hard tug out of pure frustration and annoyance. Taking a deep breath, your hands ran down your thighs before you stood up and for the first time tonight you stopped pacing.
Instead, you began flipping the light switches off, ready to turn in for the night and accept the fact that wishing Eddie a happy birthday would do neither of you any good.
Reopening that wound would make it hurt more than it already was. Just because you were hurting and searching for that closure didn’t mean that he owed you that. He didn’t owe you the light of day, not even fifteen seconds of his time on a phone call.
It was already over and it was best you left it that way — to move on and keep trying to forget as everything just kept pulling you under.
You glanced back at your dim living room, fingers ready to pull on the beaded string on the lamp to make the whole place dark before you proceeded to walk towards your bedroom and sulk the night away, being greeted by the love of your life in your dream.
But instead, before the whole place could illuminate black and white, there was a knock at your door. One that pounded hard, almost banging, followed by grumbles on the other side of it.
“A—are you in there? I wanna…wanna talk!”
Another round of loud and noisy knocks and for a second you thought you were in a dream. Pinching your skin to try to wake you up from the horrible nightmare that was tormenting you and your frail little heart. But to no one’s surprise, it was real — more knocking and his garbled talking confirmed it.
Your feet moved quickly against the wooden floors, crossing the boundaries between the living room and entrance where you stood on the other side of the door, fingers moving nimbly to undo the lock and chain before you pulled it open.
There he was in the flesh, leaning up against your doorframe, lazily keeping himself steady. He reeked of alcohol and you weren’t sure if it was merely his deep breathing that pushed the sharp smell of vodka and whisky towards your nostrils — or if he had spilt a drink or two all over himself, but it was clear that he was wasted.
Just as Robin had told you — maybe even more.
You wanted to avoid eye contact, to try to focus your sights on somewhere other than his deep brown orbs that could see right through you, but it was futile. Immediately your eyes met, the stare lingering so intensely, speaking volumes in the most silent and torturous way possible.
Though he was intoxicated, he still knew you like the back of his hand. Could read every emotion that covered your face and even beneath the exterior that you tried to put on. He knew you had been crying.
The swollen skin around your eyes dropping them down and making them look sadder than usual.
The tip of your nose red from the constant sniffles and swipes of tissue.
The frown that remained on your face and the slight quiver of your top lip that indicated you were holding it back all over again.
“W-what are you doing here?” Your voice was small and gravelly, breaking harshly, and though you coughed to try to play it off, he still knew.
Eddie watched you. The way your arms crossed over your chest and you finally had the courage to flicker your sights away from him, looking down at his covered feet instead. Your fingers tips pinching and tightening on your skin awaiting his response.
“I don’t know…t—to say that I’m sorry.”
You pinched your brows together, snapping your head up to look at him, “Sorry? Sorry for what, exactly?”
He shrugged his shoulders as he frowned deep and shook his head like he didn’t even know why he was here standing in front of you.
“Before you left, you said sorry…b-but you didn’t give me a chance to say it.”
You didn’t know what to say, hell you didn’t even know if you had any words left to speak even if there was still so much left unspoken. You stood there, eyes glued to his droopy ones that blinked slowly before he finally leaned off the wood and took a step back further into the hallway.
He was stumbling over his feet, but you didn’t dare take a step forward to help him. Eddie didn’t need you to. He regained his balance with his head down, holding a finger out towards you in a sign for you to wait. To not shut the door and leave him out again.
“Why couldn’t you just…just let me fix it?”
He tumbled over his words, keeping his head low in an effort to not break down here right now, but he couldn’t help but look at you when all he got was silence.
You swallowed, biting your tongue while the tips of your fingers turned white from the harsh pinching, desperate to want to run away and hide even when this was all you wanted for the past two years.
“You didn’t even let me try. Do you know how much it h-hurts?”
The end of his question broke with his voice, a whimper and a crack that let you know that the salt would start pouring any second now. And it was the same for you, his figure now a blurry mess as you croaked and shook your head, still not speaking.
He jabbed his finger into his chest while his face scrunched up, almost turning red with the tears that began to pool in his eyes.
“I…I still love you and you were supposed to be there tonight. I kept hoping you would show up. T-that you didn’t forget—”
Your foot stomped against the floorboards as you finally let up on your arm and brought your hands up to your cheeks to whip the tears away.
“I didn’t forget, Eddie! How the hell could you think I could ever forget?”
Here you two stood yet again, resorting to this…whatever this was.
You didn’t try to shut the door or step back as he finally stepped closer, closing the space between the both of you and just leaving inches. His face was nearly nose to nose with you as you both stood there and breathed in everything.
The regret.
The longing.
The pain.
The loss.
The love that never left.
All of it flooding your senses and screaming at you to say everything that you had been bottling up. To release everything that you had taken with you under the waves of wicked currents in winless fights. That even if the lights were on or off, life without him was black and white, the cruelest kind of way to live because he showed you color that you could never see with anyone else.
And unlike the last time you and Eddie stood in front of each other, this time you didn’t pinch your eyes shut or move away from his hands that clutched your cheek. He didn’t have to be the love of your life inside your head when he was standing right before you.
“I missed you…and I’m sorry.”
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a/n: my first pure angst feel kinda fic that i've written! i don't have a part 2 planned for this yet, but maybe i'll write one depending on how i am feeling and what i think the future would look like for reader and eddie!! i love "21" by gracie and this song just screamed eddie vibes...i hope you guys like it!!!
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oscarseyebrow · 1 year
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Patience
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Pairings: din djarin x female reader  Rating: explicit. 18+ Word count: 3k Warnings: please read all warnings before continuing, this is straight up filth. explicit smut, unprotected p-in-v, ass play (who am i?), mention of spitting (who have i become?), dom/sub dynamics, cursing, edging, smallest mention of spanking, light reference to daddy kink. A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @the-scandalorian! i'm sorry this is a year late...but here you go! this is for you 💖 Masterlist | Taglist
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The consistent, low-humming of the ship is the primary sound to fill the hull. An occasional beep accompanies it—every five seconds, to be exact—you know this because you have been counting. It’s a cycle, a predictable pattern that comes with knowing the ship well and something that your brain desperately clings to as a form of distraction. 
You need something, anything, to keep your focus away from the delicious, pleasurable stretch of Din’s cock filling you and holding there, unmoving, twitching and pulsing against your walls. This is his well-earned reward for a challenge you lost, and Maker, he’s taking his sweet time revelling in the satisfaction of it. 
At some point, you lose count of the five second cycles—after the first few minutes, it becomes almost impossible to keep up. Din knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows how difficult he’s making it for you to keep some sort of grasp on your composure.
Every now and again, you phase back into the beeps, you hold onto them tightly and proceed to count the seconds between them, only to be enticed right back each time Din moves a mere fraction of an amount and causes the softest mewl to pass between your parted lips at the satisfying–albeit temporary–relief. 
With Din out on a hunt, there’s little in the way to keep you busy on the ship. Cleaning, reading on your datapad and showering, it’s all part of your routine to pass the time. You’re expecting him to be gone for a few hours, at least. Maybe even a day, depending on the job. So it’s a pleasant surprise to see that Din is back when you step out of the fresher. 
He stands in front of the closed doors, his somewhat dishevelled appearance making a few things apparent: he has only recently arrived back, and his hunt–while being a challenging one–has been a success. He’s worked up, you see it in the way he holds himself: rigid and alert, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His head is still very much on the job while his body craves something more. 
Something only you can offer him.    
 “Show me how you caught him,” you request, eyes daring the bounty hunter as his chest heaves in the fluorescent lights of the Crest’s hull. “Show me how you took control.” 
The dominance oozes from him: it stifles the air, colours it with the primal, animalistic energy of capturing his prey. 
“And if I catch you this time?” Din asks. 
“If you catch me,” you begin, then take a moment to think. “You get whatever you want…daddy.”  
A wicked, lustful smirk curves over your lips. You watch the way his fingers curl to fist one hand: the creaking of his glove breaks the tense silence that cloaks the space between you while he considers your offer. 
Your challenge is one that Din accepts: it becomes a game of cat and mouse, and you do all you can to avoid being caught. 
You dip and dodge his sudden lunge for you, narrowly avoiding his swooping arm that attempts to capture your body and scoop you against him. It earns you a grunt of frustration and his boots scrape against the floor of the Crest when he rounds on you to try again. 
But you’re ready. You keep your knees slightly bent, preparing to sprint in the opposite direction to him while your eyes remain fixed on his visor. 
The crackles of tension in the air is not too dissimilar to the way Din’s modulator rasps with his heavier breaths. 
And then silence. 
He’s prepared for his next strike.
It happens so suddenly: he fakes a step to the left, you dart in the opposite direction and run straight into his chest. No matter how much you try to wriggle free, it’s impossible. Din’s strong arms hold you firm against him, giving you no room for movement. 
The bastard tricked you. The chase is over. 
Within seconds, Din turns you towards the cot: he places your hands above your head in a silent order to keep them against the durasteel entrance. 
The intensity and purpose of his movements causes a swell of desire and excitement to fizzle in your stomach at the thought of him claiming you. This is your favourite thing about Din returning to you in one of these moods: you know exactly what’s coming and you’re already squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.  
Din’s gloved hands rip open the buttons at the chest of your shirt: the tiny round missiles fire in every direction to allow for the fabric to fall slack. It’s all the space he needs for one of those large hands to submerge itself beneath the material and grasp a handful of your supple breast. 
That’s when you moan for him: his gloved fingers trap the sensitive peak of your nipple and pinch with just enough pressure to send an electrical jolt of pleasure through your whole body. You decide to take the opportunity to press the curve of your ass back and grind against him, enjoying the sound of his groan of pleasure. 
“Behave,” Din warns you. 
“What will happen if I don’t?” 
The slow intake of air is audible through Din’s modulator as his helmet tilts in such a way that brings his mouth close to your ear. Then, in that low, gravelled tone, he states: “the choice is yours.”
You continue to press, “what choice?” 
“I can bring you in warm…or I can bring you in cold.” 
Maker. Have mercy. 
“The most important skill while hunting…is patience,” Din’s unmodulated voice rasps from behind you. 
The tones wash over you like liquid velvet and make your muscles flutter around where he’s sheathed deep inside the wet heat of your cunt. 
“Sometimes it can take hours of waiting…do you have hours, Cyar'ika?” 
“Yes,” the answer tumbles from your lips instantly, only to be muffled by the scratchy fabric of the blanket on the bed. 
It feels as though you have already been here for hours: chest down and legs spread where you stand outside of the cot. You know that when you do finally straighten up, the imprint of the blanket’s fibres will be noticeable on your cheek, but it will be worth every hatched line.   
There’s a knowing smirk evident in Din’s voice and his next words slide silkily from his mouth: “yes, what?” 
Your pussy instinctively quivers again at his tone, informing him of your increasing need. 
“Yes, daddy.” 
You get a sound of approval, rumbled from deep within his chest. He likes it. He enjoys the way your voice carries that word; it’s music to his ears. 
The softest moan escapes from between your lips when Din draws his hips back to admire the way his cock glistens with you. Not even the steady rattle of the ship or his heavier breaths are enough to disguise the obscene sound of his cock gliding through your wetness as his thrusts become harder. 
“Feels so good,” you praise him. “Don’t stop–oh, right there!”  
There’s no controlling the curses and lust-filled balling that spills from your mouth when Din’s cock finally rubs up against your favourite spot. It triggers an automatic response in your hips as they tilt into his thrusts, chasing the pleasurable sensation. 
The rhythmic beeps of the ship are drowned out by the soundscape that builds at the entrance of the cot: Din’s lower grunts, your pitched moans of pleasure while the telling signs of your orgasm begin to take hold. It creeps in with a smouldering heat at the base of your spine and snakes between each vertebrate–it sears along each nerve, absorbs itself into your bloodstream and pulseates throughout your whole body. 
It’s close. 
It’s so fucking close. 
Your eyes tighten in anticipation, your voice unable to produce any sort of sound while everything in your body pulls tight.
And then he stops. 
Each time Din edges you to the very brink of orgasm, he hastily drags you back from it, leaving you to collapse in desperation against the mattress of the cot again and again. Your legs tremble, hopelessly trying to hold yourself steady. 
“Din,” you’re almost on the verge of begging, unable to take the torturous pleasure any longer. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he has done this to you. 
“Patience, Cyar'ika.” 
No, you’re done being patient. 
Your fingers hold the blanket with a vice-like grip as you pull yourself forward over Din’s cock and then slide yourself back again, momentarily taking control, interested to see his reaction. 
An unexpected moan sounds from behind you, as though he hadn’t been anticipating this move. Somehow, you expect him to have the situation well read: he’s usually prepared for everything, so to catch him off-guard sparks an uncontrollable desire deep within you. It urges you on, thrilled by the fact that even now, after all this time, you can still surprise him. 
“Mmm—fuck,” Din groans as one of his hands clutches at your waist. It isn’t to prevent your movements, he’s simply holding you, admiring the show as you fuck yourself on his cock. 
“That’s it, Cyar'ika. Show me what you need,” Din’s encouragement spurs you on more: the pliable flesh of your ass slaps against his cold armor each time you thrust back onto him. “You’re doing so well.” 
Maker, his praise sends you wild. 
“I love your cock,” you pant. “Love how big it feels…”
You know exactly what you’re doing, you’re pushing him, trying every trick you know in the ‘Din handbook’ in an attempt to get him to snap and fuck you as if his life depends on it. 
Din knows this, too. 
His next words put an end to your building pleasure: “That’s enough.” 
No. It isn’t enough. It’s not even close to being enough. 
Your frustrated whine becomes muffled by the blankets when you press your face against them again and squeeze your eyes closed. You don’t know how much more of this you can take. Din knows your limits, he’ll never push you further than what you’re comfortable with so you know that he’ll give in soon enough. But this is a fine line you’re toeing between pleasure and frustration, with your need for release descending into urgent desperation.
Din’s hands move to your lower back and stroke over your warm skin. They follow the curve of your spine and then up a little higher before his blunt nails drag downward. The sensation makes you shiver beneath him, aching for his fingers to reach around and pay some attention to your abandoned clit. 
“Please…” You beg. 
All you’re rewarded with is a slow roll of his hips: each thick inch of his length slides easily through your dripping cunt before he sinks deep again and holds there. 
You open your mouth to protest, set on calling him a few choice words for how far he’s pushing you tonight but all that comes out is a quiet “oh,” when the pad of his thumb teases at the tight ring of muscle of your ass.  
He applies no pressure, he simply grazes over it, as though he’s awaiting your reaction to the silent request. There isn’t a single part of your body that Din hasn’t explored during your relationship, but this still holds a feeling of vulnerability, a sensation of unfamiliar territory compared to all other areas he enjoys. 
You turn your head to glance back over your shoulder and notice that he’s already watching you: head tilted and a small smirk on his lips. Din’s body towers in the entrance of the cot, blocking out most of the light that pours in from the hull of the ship. From this angle, with him looming above you, he looks deliciously intimidating. 
“Can I?” He questions quietly, although you’re sure he already knows the answer. 
The calloused pad of his thumb continues to tease, causing heavier, uneven breaths to escape you: your lungs are desperate to take in air while your body tries to force it back out with the excitement and pleasure that builds.
There’s no keeping the grin from your lips when you nod, giving him your consent. You trust him completely: he would never do anything without your approval, even now, after the years you have spent together. Nothing is ever taken for granted–Din is respectful, before all else. Which is somewhat of a contrasting thought as he slaps one of his palms down against the cheek of your ass and grins to himself when you gasp.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your answer.” 
Fuck. Fuck. Din’s voice oozes a dominance reserved only for you, a tone that he is able to use with great effect when you both feel safe and able to explore together. 
“Y–yes,” you stutter, unable to hold your composure as the excitement builds rapidly in your stomach. 
“Yes, what?” 
“Yes, daddy.” 
Din’s eyes hold yours for a brief moment while that smirk lingers on his lips. He knows he’s going to wreck you, he’s going to turn you into a babbling, trembling mess when the force of your orgasm finally hits and you’re allowing him to do it. 
You need him to do it. 
His hands smooth over the cheeks of your ass while he watches you, then finally, he looks away so that he can admire the view while he spreads you open. 
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs his approval. 
Din leans over just enough to spit into the crevice of your ass. The sudden warmth has you gasping again and clenching around his cock, which in turn, earns you a deep moan of approval. He wastes little time before he moves to rub the pad of his thumb over your opening again, only now, a slick wetness accompanies it. 
The sensation is divine. 
“Do you like feeling me here, Cyar'ika?” There it is again, that silky smooth voice: it’s low in pitch, but no less commanding for an answer. 
The only thing that you’re able to string together is something close to a whine as Din’s thumb applies just enough pressure to breach the tight hole. The very tip of his thumb sits there, holding still as you writhe beneath him in an attempt to get him to push it in further. 
“So eager,” he breathes. “Do you like feeling so full?” 
You nod into the blankets as you scrunch them up and bury your face into the fabric with a moan. 
“Yes,” you manage, voice muffled. “I fucking love it.” 
He rolls his hips again, slower this time, controlled. It’s almost admirable, the way he manages to keep it together for so long: it’s one of the many things you love about him, his need to satisfy you, as well as himself. With another press of his hips, Din’s thumb eases further into you while his cock throbs against your walls with his growing need. 
Maker, you feel so full. 
You’re expecting Din to rest there, to take his time and enjoy the feel of your wet heat warming up his cock while his thumb is nestled deep inside of you. But he doesn’t, and there’s no denying it catches you by surprise. 
His hips begin to thrust again: deep and hard, well-aimed and precise. 
“Shit,” he curses with a moan. “You’re taking my cock so well tonight.” 
You moan and whine against the blanket, lost to the pleasure, unable to form any sort of coherent words as Din fucks you over the cot. Every word he speaks seems to flood you, each moan of his pleasure and acknowledgement of how good you feel, drives you wild. 
The fingers of Din’s other hand finally reach around to reward you with some attention to your clit. Finally, fucking finally. It induces a jolt of pleasure with such an intensity that it threatens to tip you straight over the edge. 
You’re close. Closer than last time, and Din doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. 
“Fuck me, Din,” you cry out your request, as if he isn’t already doing so. “Fuck me. Make me cum. Please, please…” 
The sound Din makes is something close to a snarl as he fucks you harder, causing wave after staggering wave of pleasure to crash over you. 
Oh, fuck. You feel it coming. 
Your orgasm rises from somewhere deep inside of you and builds with a force you’ve never experienced before. Din’s touch is everywhere: his fingers, his thumb, his cock. You don’t know which way to press your hips, you don’t know how to arch for the best result: it’s overwhelming, overstimulating. 
There’s sounds coming out of your mouth that you have no control over: curses and praises, incoherent begs and cries for what you need. 
And then it hits you. 
You’re powerless to it and the way it rips through the whole of your body. Maker, it has you in a fucking chokehold as your body simultaneously tenses and trembles. No words form, only sounds of pure ecstasy are able to explode from your throat; ragged and desperate. 
“Oh fuck. That’s it, Cyar'ika. So good… So good,” Din’s words are broken by breathy moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. 
He’s close. You feel it in the way his hips buck, no longer holding their steady, controlled rhythm. Din’s thumb eases out of you, allowing himself to grip onto your waist with one of his larger hands while the other thuds down onto the cot beside you.
You’re thankful for the way his broad body crowds over you, pressing you tighter to the cot and keeping you in place as he cums with a broken cry of your name. You don’t trust your legs to hold you up any longer, especially not when you feel the warmth of Din’s load filling you deeply, his hips continuing to jut against you until he has given you everything.
You’re exhausted, spent… wrecked. 
It takes a little time to muster up the energy to move, but eventually, you both make it into the bunk after Din’s remaining armor and clothes are removed.  
“Mmh,” he groans and presses the warmth of his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re incredible.” 
A soft, lazy smile curls onto your lips as you turn your head a little to see him settled against your chest. You could stay like this forever, tangled up with him while your fingers comb slowly through his damp hair. 
“When is the next job?” You ask after a moment, trying to keep your voice from giving anything away. 
“Not for a few days…Why?” 
“Oh, I was just wondering,” you smile to yourself and close your eyes. “Next time, I won’t let you catch me.” 
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