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givemequeen · 1 year

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Accidental Confessions: Pedro Pascal x reader

request: What about a Pedro Pascal friends to lovers? He just seems like such a great friend. It would be cute to see an angsty/fluffy friends to lovers. a/n: I’m back bitches? pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader summary: you go to a party with Pedro and accidentally let something slip. warnings: sexy time. slight oral (female receiving). honestly just normal sexy stuff. oh! unprotected sex (remember to wrap it before you tap it, lads) word count: 5409

You stepped into the party already anxious, your hands were slightly shaking as you made your way around the room overfilled with strangers. Pedro had invited you to some fancy actor party of his and you had regrettably agreed. The last thing you wanted to do right now was fake smile at a bunch of people you didn’t know. It would’ve been so much better if you had just stayed home in bed watching TV.

You shook the thought out of your head, no, you were here for your friend. He invited you specifically. He wants you here.

As you silently chastised yourself for wishing you weren’t here, you found yourself at the bar. The bartender – a young man with healthy, bouncing curls down to his shoulders whose smile revealed two small dimples on each cheek – asked you what you wanted as he prepared a drink for a girl in a stunning dress.

Pedro hadn’t exactly told you what to wear, just something “formal”, so you had landed on a long, thin, silver dress with spaghetti straps that you had bought on a whim. Thankfully, you seemed to fit in with the rest of the people. Though they did seem much more put together than you did.

You told the bartender your order – lemon vodka – and sat on one of the stools. You were about to take your phone out of your small purse when the lady that was sat next to you spoke. She called out your name and you shot up.

“Is it you?” she said with a dashing smile. Her teeth were perfectly straight and extremely white. She had a tan and a nose that you could ski on.

“Yeah?” you said, a bit unsure.

“It’s wonderful meeting you.” She stuck her hand out, of course she had a perfect manicure.

“Thanks, you too.” You shook her hand; thankful you had at least attempted to paint your nails a colour to match your dress. “I don’t mean to be rude but who are you?”

She laughed – obviously a perfect laugh, no snorting or high-pitched squeals – and told you her name. “I’ve worked with Pedro.”

You cringed at the way she said his name. “Oh.” You said with a slightly pang of jealousy. “So, how do you know me?”

“Are you kidding? He talks about you all the time, sweetheart.” She laughed, completely taking you back. “So how long have you two been together?”

Just as you were about to open your mouth to tell her you guys weren’t together and what a ridiculous suggestion that was, the bartender handed you your drink. You smiled at him and politely took a sip before turning to the woman and again.

However, this time, Pedro was stood right next to her.

“Pedro!” you said, a smile light up your face. You stood up, set your drink on the bar, and gave him a hug. His strong, large, warm hands rested on your hips as you tucked your head in his neck and pressed yourself against his warm skin. He smelled perfect. Like the cologne you had seen in his bathroom one too many times and like him. Like his skin and his sweat and morning mist and almonds.

You stood back before it got too weird. You felt hyperaware of his hands on your hips and how he had kept them there. “I was just talking to-” you turned to face the lady but she was gone. “Oh, she must’ve left.”

“Leah? Yeah we worked together last year, I told you about it.” He smiled and you nearly melted right there. That gorgeous smile that revealed a dimple in his right cheek and crinkled his eyes. “You look gorgeous.” He said as he took a step back and took you in. You spun around in order to give him a full view. “Absolutely perfect.”

“So do you, ver handsome.” You took a sip of your drink in order to hide your blush.

“Come, I want you to meet some people.” You nodded and allowed Pedro to grab your hand and lead you through the masses of people. You spent the next three hours going from group to group. You knew some of the actors, either personally - well more like from some other party Pedro had invited you to - or because you had seen them in some show or movie. You politely listened to whatever they had to say and then kissed everyone goodbye before moving on to the next group.

Though sometimes what the actors were saying was interesting, the thing that took your attention away the most was Pedro. Whenever he laughed, he would clap his hand on his chest and lean backwards. You couldn’t stop paying attention to the heat coming from his hand when he would place in on your lower back as he guided you to the next group.

It was around eleven o’clock when you stepped outside from some air. Pedro had offered to fill up your drink but you refused as you were starting to feel a little light headed. So, instead, he went to get you both a snack and a glass of water.

You were standing in the apartment’s balcony, it was pretty high up but it had the most breath-taking view of the city. All around you lights from different buildings and streets winked up at you. You took a deep breath in and gripped the railing of the balcony. You were alone and did not hear when Pedro came out.

“Hey there.” He said, he was holding a bowl of peanuts and a glass of water. “I already had some water; I hope you don’t mind sharing.” He grinned sheepishly.

“Of course I don’t mind, silly.” You smiled and took the glass. “Thank you.” You said as you popped a peanut into your mouth.

You sat down on one of the outdoor sofas and, sighing, lifted your legs so they laid across Pedro’s lap. You both quietly munched on the snack and stared at the sky. Pedro moved your dress out of the way, lifting the hem until your knees. He began drawing on your leg and you nearly groaned out loud at how good his touch felt.

“So, how long are you in New York for?” you finally asked. You always dreaded this answer, he wasn’t here for long, always in one country or another filming.

Of course, you were happy for him. He was doing what he had always dreamed of doing but a small – or large – part of you was selfish and wanted him to stay in New York so you could see him every day.

“For a while.” He said. You look up at him and smiled.

“Really? No show to shoot? No premier or award show to attend?” you tried to hide your excitement but failed miserably.

“No.” he laughed. “I’m all yours.” He said as his finger glided up and down your leg.

“Awesome.” You said, unsure what else to say. I wish you were all mine…

“Hmm?”

“What?” you echoed looking up at him.

“What did you just say?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, his hand had frozen highway up your shin.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” You sat up, pulling your legs away from him. “Fuck, did I say “I wish you were all mine” out loud? Fuck.” you thought. You probably had had more to drink than you had initially thought.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, anyway I better get going.” You quickly stood up and before he had the chance to follow, you dashed inside. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Quickly, you made your way through the crowds of people, carefully avoiding those you knew were chatterboxes, and left the apartment. You looked behind you and nervously began pressing the call button for the elevator. As soon as it opened, you darted inside and began repeatedly pressing the close button.

Soon enough, the elevator reached the reception and you bolted across it. You waved goodbye to the concierge who had helped you earlier last night and quickly glanced over your shoulder as you stepped outside. Pedro was nowhere to be seen and you weren’t sure whether to be disappointed or relived. You hailed a taxi down, but they all zoomed past you, either busy or completely ignoring you.

“Hey.” You heard Pedro call your name from behind. “Where are you running off to?” he tapped your shoulder and you spun around.

“Hi, sorry. Just gotta get home, yknow.” You smiled, trying to play it cool but Pedro saw right past your act.

“Okay, let me accompany you.” He stood beside you and hailed a taxi down. Of course, they immediately listened to him. He opened the door for you to get in.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. I’ll get home fine.” You said as you got in.

“What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t take you home?” he said as he too got in.

Reluctantly, you nodded and he gave the taxi driver your address. You spent the ride staring outside and cursing New York’s traffic. Walking or the subway would’ve taken you less and maybe you wouldn’t have been caught up by Pedro. But the subway wasn’t the safest especially with what you were wearing and your feet hurt too much to walk all the way home.

Pedro sat silently next to you, his hand on the middle seat, and eyes glued outside. When you finally got to your place, you jumped out of the taxi and thanked Pedro. However, he too stepped outside. He paid the driver and followed you inside your apartment’s foyer.

You couldn’t exactly slam the door in his face, so you let him in and got into the elevator. You expected this ride to be just like the taxi drive, silent and a tiny bit awkward. Pedro surprised you by hitting the emergency button - which caused the elevator to jolt to a halt - and turning to you.

“Hey, talk to me, why did you run off? And don’t say you needed to get home.” He said, he stood completely in front of you. You glanced up and mustered a smile.

“I- well- it’s just-” you couldn’t help but glancing down at his lips and back up at his eyes. Those deep brown eyes you could just lose yourself in.

“Yeah? You just what?” he prompted, taking a step closer to you. You held your breath, unsure as to what to do.

“I think you know.” You finally said, you pushed your shoulders back and held your hands together behind your back.

“Oh? I do?” he asked, he was so close you could feel his breath fanning across your face. It smelt like mint and alcohol and you so desperately wanted to put your mouth and his.

Gently, he cupped your cheek and you let out a breath, your hands went to his chest as his other hand went to your hips. “Please let me kiss you, I’ve been dying to kiss you.” He whispered.

You nodded and closed your eyes, waiting for the heavenly taste of his lips. Slowly, Pedro pressed his lips against yours, you let out a sigh that sounded almost like a whine, and pulled him closer by the jacket of his suit. You moved your head to the side, allowing him more space to kiss you.

His lips felt so extremely smooth and soft, almost like what you imagined kissing a cloud would feel like. He groaned into your mouth and that noise made you weak in the knees. Pedro let his hand drop to your waist and you both walked backwards until your back hit the elevator wall.

He pulled you up so you could rest on the safety rail. You wrapped one leg around his waist, the dress restricting your movement, and he pressed himself against you. Now it was your turn to groan. He was clearly hard; you could feel it pressing against where you needed it the most.

He rolled his hips and you moaned again. Taking advantage of the situation, he slipped his tongue into yours. You allowed it and let your tongue dance over his. One of his hands move to your behind, he grabbed the soft flesh there and pressed himself even harder into you. His other hand went to your leg, he pulled your dress up, feeling how smooth your legs were.

“Fuck.” He whispered against your lips as he pulled apart for air. “I want to-”

“Everything alright in there?” a voice called out from the intercom.

You jumped away from Pedro, slightly pushing him away. “Erm, yes, just an accident.” You coughed and tried to fix your dress.

“Alright.” Said the voice. Pedro hit the button again and the elevator lurched into life.

You let your fingers glide over your lips, reminiscing on how sweet he tasted. Pedro was now leaning against the back wall of the elevator, not staying anything, as you stood near the doors.

Finally, they opened and you stepped into the corridor. You could hear him follow you and wait patiently as you took your keys out. Once you found them, you fumbled with them until you managed to slide them into the keyhole. You turned the key and a small click resonated.

You turned to face him and struggled to meet his eyes. He was staring down at you, his face tense as though unsure of what to do and hands in his pockets.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked. Smiling, he nodded and followed you in. You turned the lights on and made your way to the living room.

“Sit. Do you want a drink?” Pedro stood by the entrance of the living room, his body leaning against the door frame, and stared at you.

“No.”

“Oh… Do you want water? Or some food?” you said as you moved your weight from one foot to another. Your heels were killing you.

“No.” he repeated, his voice dark and low. He pushed off the door frame and took a step towards you.

“Oh.” You swallowed and watched in anticipation as he got closer to you. “What do you want then?” you stuttered.

“I want you.” He said as he placed his hands on your hips again. “And you?”

“Me too.” You quickly said before kissing him.

Pedro groaned into your mouth and grabbed you wherever he could. Your hands were on him like metal on a magnet. He yanked you up, hands on your ass. Your heels fell off, making a loud thump when they reached the floor, but you didn’t care.

“Careful, my dress.” You breathed. He pulled it up, nearly uncovering your ass, and squeezed your thighs. He pressed you to the wall and continued kissing you. His mouth was wonders on yours, drawing out the dirtiest of noises.

“My room.” You said.

Wordlessly, Pedro pulled you off the wall and started making his way to your room with you in his arms. You grabbed his shoulders and felt the muscles underneath the suit. Fuck, you couldn’t wait to tear all this extra fabric off of him. Once you reached your room he dropped you onto your bed and crawled on top of you.

You pushed the jacket off of him as his lips attached themselves to your neck. Like a starving man, he began kissing and licking your neck. His kisses were soft and harsh at the same time, his tongue sliding over what his teeth marked. You moaned his name and begged for more.

“Clothes.. there’s too much…” you mumbled pushing him back. He laughed and began unbuttoning his shirt. Impatiently, you pulled his shirt free from his pants and undid the buttons at the bottom. Pedro grabbed your chin and made you look up at him.

“Patience, mi amor.” he said, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m not laughing.” He finished undoing all his button. “You’re so beautiful, I’m just happy.” You felt a rush of heat making its way up your neck and down your stomach.

“Oh shut up.” You covered your face.

Slowly, he peeled your hands away from your face and kissed you gently. “You are.” He kissed you again. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

He was finally done with all his buttons. You pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and sighed in delight. Your hands went to his stomach, feeling the warm skin, and kissed him right above his belly button. There was a trail of dark hair leading down into his pants and for a moment you wandered if that hair grew there just to tease you.

He kicked off his shoes and let his shirt fall to the ground. You pushed him onto the bed and pulled your dress up, so it pooled at your hips, in order to straddle him. His hands returned to their familiar positions at your hips, and you took in his chest.

Sure, you had seen him shirtless before whenever you went to the beach or pool – or when you drunkenly searched up shirtless photos of him with your friends – but you had never seen him laying on your bed like this, his hands on your ass and eyes on your breasts.

“I think now it’s you who has “too much clothes”.” he said, quoting you. His fingers went to your straps, leaving your ass cold, and with a nod from you, he pushed them off your shoulders. Slowly, the dress fell and left your breasts exposed. You though, you would perhaps want to cover yourself, but something about the way he stared at them made you stand up straighter.

He sat up, pulling you against him, and kissed your chest. He moved to one breast, planting opened mouthed kisses onto the soft skin and held the other breast with his hands. He gently squeezed and let his mouth hover about your nipple. His breath fanned over it, hardening it. You pushed forward, forcing him to make contact.

He kissed you softly, like he had all the time in world, and gently. But you wanted more, and you want it now. You had waited too long for it to be this slow. You told him so.

“I have waited too long for it to go too fast. I’m going to take my time.” You didn’t know what was hotter, the fact he wanted to take his time with you or the fact he had wanted this for a long time too. He kissed you harder and took your nipple between his teeth. You moaned his name and grabbed his hair, tugging on it slightly. This earned you a small groan, you did it again and he groaned your name.

His hand squeezed your other breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple. You sighed in pleasure and grinded against him. You wanted to feel him everywhere and weren’t sure how long you were going to let him “take his time” with you. He was rock hard and you were dying to see him. Completely see him.

He moved away from your breast and swapped sides, making sure both sides of you got the same treatment. “Oh, Pedro, fuck.” You said, each moan making him go harder and faster. “Please, I need you…”

Pedro pulled away and tugged the dress over your hips. You lifted your arms, allowing him to completely take your dress off. He threw it off the side and groaned as he took in your entire body.

“You’re perfect.” He leaned forward and kissed your chest. You arched your back, pushing yourself towards him. He flipped you over and held himself above you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and tugged him down, wanting to feel his weight on top of you and between your legs.

“Take your pants off.” You said, your hands fumbling with the belt. “Please.” You added after he gave you a cheeky look.

Pedro rose and quickly took off his pants. You sat up, resting your weight on your elbows, and let your mouth fall open as you stared at his crotch. His erection was extremely obvious, it was creating a tent in his underwear. He placed his hands at his hips.

“Wow. Okay. Come here. Now.” You pulled him towards you and kissed him, eager to get to it.

He kissed you hard, taking your lower lip between his teeth and tugging on it. You couldn’t take it any longer, you stuck your hand between you and down his underwear and wrapped your fingers around him. He winced when you touched him and let his head fall onto your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” you went to move your hand away but he grabbed your wrist.

“Continue.” He begged. “I’m just… really hard.” He laughed, refusing to meet your eyes. You bit your lower lip and attempted to hide the smile that was threatening to jump out. You wrapped your fingers around him again. He was thick and, you quickly discovered, long. You began stroking him and his hips began rolling, meeting you halfway. Some pre-cum leaked out of his tip, wetting your hand. You squeezed your thighs around him, eager to have him inside.

Almost as though you had requested it, Pedro let one of his hands fall between you. He pressed his thumb against you through your underwear and began rotating it. You moaned, bucking your hips. It felt too good.

“Please, let’s…” you didn’t have to say anything else. He laid on your side and placed his warm hand on your lower stomach.

“Is this okay?” he asked, slowly itching downwards.

“Yes.”

“If you want me to stop at any time, tell me.” He said as he stared into your soul.

“Yes.” You looked away, terrified your eyes would betray your deepest secrets.

“Look at me.” His voice was low and husky, it made that warm feeling in your lower stomach drop lower. You turned to look at him, the hand that wasn’t on your lower stomach tucked your hair behind your ear before returning to its position holding him up.

He kissed you gently and slowly slipped his hand under your underwear. You gasped as his finger touched you, it was barely anything but with Pedro if felt like everything. He moved his finger in small circles and watched you, entranced by the soft noises you were making. You grabbed his shoulder and squeezed.

Gradually, he slipped a finger inside of you, just one, and kept it there. You looked at him, mouth slightly open, and nodded. He slipped another finger and curled them. You fell back, unable to support yourself, and squeezed his shoulder harder. Pedro began slipping his fingers in and out, each time he entered you he curled them. His thumb began drawing small circles just where you needed it. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment, and opened your hips, giving him all the space he could need.

“Fuck.” You breathed as he stroked something deep inside you.

You arched your back, pushing your breasts into the air. As though by invitation, Pedro placed his mouth around your breasts and sucked. His kisses were harder this time but you welcomed them. Your hand went to his hair, tugging and scratching his scalp. The joint pleasure coming from his hands and mouth was overwhelming. You pushed your hips onto the bed and breasts into his mouth.

“Pedro… I’m gonna…” you moaned. He picked up his pace and helped you reach the place you had been chasing. You felt that pleasure ripple through you, erupting from between your legs and reaching all the way down to the tip of your curled toes. It then rushed all the way up and exploded out of your mouth as a series of moans, whimpers, and pleas.

When you finally came down your chest was rapidly rising and falling, as though you had ran a marathon. Pedro had pulled his finger out from you and was holding them in front of his face. You turned to look at him, your vision slightly blurry, and watched in awe as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean.

You pulled him to you, urging him to rest his weight on you, and kissed him. You kissed his neck, his sweat tasted sweet. You licked a line across his jugular vein and felt his rapid heartbeat under your tongue.

“That was really good.” You said. “Your moans drive me crazy.”

He rolled his hips against you and you moaned again. “Mmhm, just like that. You like this?” you nodded and he did it again. “What do you want now?”

“You.”

“You have me.” You looked over at him and gave him a look. “C’mon, you’re gonna have to be more specific than that.” he pressed his hips against you and arched an eyebrow.

“Well… Okay…” you looked up, not wanting to reveal how flustered he made you.

“Yes?” he cupped your jaw and kissed you.

“I want you in me.” You finally said.

“Lets get rid of these then, huh?” he said, tugging at your underwear. Pedro kissed his way down your torso until he was level with your hips. He hooked a finger around the band of your underwear and pulled it over your hips, knees, and, eventually, feet. He flicked them off to the side before taking you all in. “Fuck.” He said before planting a kiss right between your legs. He licked once before kissing your inner thigh. Then, he kissed his way back up to your lips.

“Your turn.” You said, a smile tugging at your lips. Your hands went down to his underwear and you tugged it down, making him completely bare. You glanced down and let your mouth fall open. Pedro wrapped his hand around himself and pumped it a couple times.

“I’m on the pill.” You blurted out.

“That’s good.” He said, smiling down at you.

“Are you- like, clean?”

“Yes, even though I’m an actor-”

“And a heartthrob.” You interjected.

“Yes, right.” He laughed as he made his way back to you. “- I don’t go sleeping around with everyone.”

“No, yeah, right, I didn’t meant that. Just…”

“I’m messing, I know what you meant and yes I am. You?”

You nodded.

You reached your hands out and placed them on his shoulders, they were broad and warm, his skin felt reassuring under your fingers. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer. Pedro lined himself up and momentarily pushed his hips forward. You sucked in a breath and shut your eyes, your legs squeezing him.

“Hey, relax, okay?” he kissed you gently and you nodded, relaxing your thighs. He pushed in a little more and you let out a moan. He was stretching and filling you up in all the right ways. He pushed even more and you gripped his shoulders. His head fell beside yours, his voice was sweet like honey and reaching parts of you that you didn’t know existed. His words were carefully and perfectly chosen.

Finally, he was all the way in. He groaned and rested his weight on you. He was heavy but it felt oddly reassuring, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and sighed, causing him to inch further into you.

“Please, Pedro, move.” You urged.

He complied and slowly pulled himself out halfway before sliding back inside. Each movement causing you to moan his name. You arched your back, pressing your chest against his, as he picked up the pace. Your hands were desperately moving up and down his back, one slid down to his ass and you gave it a squeeze. He didn’t seem to mind so you squeezed again. This time he reacted, he pulled himself further out and slammed into you. The noise of his flesh against yours was almost deafening.

You grabbed his hair and pulled so he turned to look at you. His eyes were half closed, and mouth half opened. You kissed him and he kissed back with a force to match his thrusts. You felt him go deeper and deeper. His hands went to your face, cupping your cheek. You squeezed your legs around him.

“Can I go on top?” you asked, pulling your lips away from his.

“Yes, of course.”

You both awkwardly rolled over and gasped at the new angle. His hands went to your hips, thumbs slowly drawing circles onto the soft skin. You spread your legs and moaned as you sunk further onto him. That feeling that drove you wild was starting to build up again in your lower abdomen.

His hands started to guide you, urging you to rock forwards and backwards. You gladly complied, moaning at how gratifying it felt. One of his hand went to your left breasts and squeezed it. You leaned towards him and kissed him. His lips were a taste you could not get enough of. His tongue danced around yours at a beautiful pace. You pulled yourself up slightly and lowered again. He gasped. You did it again. He gasped again.

“You like that?” you said.

He kissed you harder and began lifting his hips to meet you halfway. As though this was a dance you had practiced for many hours in order to perfect, the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm. His hand squeezed, tongue licked, hips bucked. It was perfect but it couldn’t last long.

“I think I’m close.” He said, almost apologetic.

“Please cum in me.” You begged, surprised at how pathetic you sounded.

In one quick motion, Pedro spun you around, holding you tight against his chest as he did so. He grabbed your hands and pinned them over your head with just one of his and resumed the thrusting of his hips. Then, his other hand settled between the two of you and his thumb began rapidly circling your clit.

You moaned and moved, chest pressed against his, legs wrapped around him and quickly squeezed. His movements were becoming irregular and sloppy.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. I’ve been staring at you all night in that dress. You’re - shit - fucking perfect.” He said as he pounded into you one last time before grunting in pleasure.

Just then, the overwhelming feeling that had been building itself deep inside of you toppled over.

“Don’t stop.” You said as you felt him slow down.

Pedro listened and bucked his hips hard. You pushed your shoulders into the bed, hands tightly gripping his hair, and let yourself enjoy the pleasure. You rolled your hips against him, hyper aware of the warmth shooting into you. You collapsed into the bed, chest heaving even faster that before.

Pedro collapsed onto you, his weight comfortably crushing you. You stroked his hair as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

“Was that also really good?” his voice was muffled.

“Even more.” You said, happily sighing. Pedro pulled away from you as you whined in protest, him leaving your body felt like a betrayal. You were left empty, cold, and bare.

“Gotta get you cleaned up, mi amor.” He laughed.

He walked into the bathroom and you grinned at the sight. He had an amazing ass. Fuck, you couldn’t look away. You rolled over in the bed to get a better view. Your smiled grew even more when he turned around, his boner not fully gone yet.

“Damn.” You said.

“Thanks?” He plopped down on the bed with a towel in hand and helped you get cleaned up.

Then, you slid under the duvet. He clicked into placed behind you, his arms wrapping around you and dwarfing you. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and let his fingers dance over your thigh. And into the darkness, he spoke your name.

“I don’t know what that meant to you…” He began. “But that was special to me. I’ve honestly been wanting to do that for a long while.”

You froze as though remaining as still as possible would also freeze the moment, like any sound would shatter this dream and forcibly pull you back to a cruel and lonely reality.

“And, erm, you?” he nervously asked when you remained silent.

You rolled around and stared up at him. “Me too, Pedro. I really like you and not just as a friend.” You smiled and kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on top of him. You gasped when you felt something poking your butt.

“Put that away!”

“You don’t want a round two?” he smirked.

“Pedro!”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #perdo pascal x reader #perdo pascal friends to lovers #perdo pascal x reader smut #javier peña smut #din djarin smut #smut #fanfic #im backkkk #it is me #i have returned from the dead #sorry #perdo pascal fluff #perdo pascal x reader fluff

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yeetus-feetus · 1 month

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de-aging au

Duke is a much smaller Duke one day, he's lost all his memories beyond the young age he is now and he's scared and confused. He doesn't know where is. But then there's Tim, his Robin! And suddenly everything is

The bats have no idea what's going on, but Duke refuses to go to anyone but Tim. He's also a little ball of energy bouncing off all the walls, and Tim is SO tired. "Robin- Tim, come play tag with me!"

One night Tim ends up passing out at his desk, a sleeping Duke cuddling into him on his lap.

Except when Duke wakes up Tim is small too. And he doesn't remember who Duke is!!

So Duke reintroduces himself and Tim let's himself be dragged downstairs to the actually Batcave!

Bruce is looking at them in absolute astonishment, they're so small!!

Damian laughs at Tim's smallness and Tim gives a cold glare. Maybe age can't change some things.

"where are Nightwing and the new Robin?" Tim asks.

"I'm Robin."

"no, I meant Jason!" Tim huffs and crosses his arms. Ah, he's so young he still believes Jay is Robin.

Duke is still clinging to him, but Tim can't bring himself to mind all too much.

Bruce doesn't know how to handle these boys, between a hyperactive Duke and an absolute menace Tim.

Dick tries to help, but even he can't keep up with the mischief and shenanigans they get up to together.

"dick pick us up!"

"yeah! Pick us up pick us up! And swing us around until we get dizzy!"

"again!"

It's time to bring out the big guns, and by that they mean calling Jason over to the manor.

Tim settles immediately, but Duke remains overly weary around the large man with guns strapped to his thighs. He's kinda scary.

But Tim likes Jason well enough. At some point he ends up cuddled up with Jason who's stretched out on the couch, and Duke is just a little bit jealous.

"hey stop hogging him! Tim is mine," Duke pouts.

Jason raises an eyebrow at the boy, and Tim tilts his head. "You know there's enough room for both of us up here, right? Jason is a lot bigger than he used to be."

Duke considers this. "Mm okay, but only because you're up there". And he climbs up into Jason's lap to cuddle into Tim's side.

It's calm for a moment, until Duke starts to fidget, not able to stay still for too long. Jason let's put an annoyed noise and looks at them over the top of his book. "Would you quit it I'm tryna read here".

"what are you reading?" Duke asks.

"Macbeth."

Tim scrunched his nose up. "Why are you reading that?"

"I like it. Reminds me of school", and Tim catches something in his tone that Duke absolutely doesn't.

"it sounds silly. Will you red it to us?"

Jason looks at the both of them for a very long moment before signing. "Sure, but you've gotta stay still, your knees are already in my ribs."

The three of them all end up falling asleep like that, tucked into the lounge and curled up together.

Except when they wake up in the morning, Jason is scrawny little boy, even smaller than Tim and Duke.

Tim explains what he can to the tiny Jason as Duke sneaks some snacks from the kitchen cupboard for them.

Cass catches them stuffing their faces with junk food and squeals. "Three baby brother's now!" And scoops them all up as the quick and try to squirm away.

"gotta tell B"

"wait who are you exactly?" Jason asks.

"big sister", Cass smiles and pets his curls.

"no way! Really? I've never had a big sister before", he exclaims.

Cass carries all three of them down to the Batcave because she's so strong and cool! And Jason can't believe he ends up with such a cool sister.

"Batman!!!" Jason shouts in pure excitement, and Bruce turns around and almost cries.

Because look how small!! Oh baby Jay lad!! So precious and smol!

"I think the de-aging syndrome may be contagious", Tim speaks up. "You should have us all properly quarantined until you can find a cure."

quarantine is fun, for Jason and Tim at least (tiny Tim is plotting revenge on whoever caused this, Jason is reading and occasionally shouting at the characters). Duke can't stand having to stay still in the same one room for so long.

idk where this is going, but consider this awesome 3am idea of mine

#It is literally 3am what am I doing lol #Why can't I get to sleep?#de aging #de aged tim #de aged Duke #de aged Jason #tim drake #duke thomas #jason todd #batfamily #batfam

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eunoiathewriter · 2 years

Note

hi !!! i absolutely love your writing ! would u mind doing another harry potter imagine? thank u </3

H. POTTER X F!READER

Synopsis It's hard to stay cool when the girl you have a crush on is right there beside you.

Word Count: 2.2k

Harry and Ron yawned in unison as they walked through the woods, following Arthur Weasley, who was in the lead, with Charlie and Fred and George close at his heels, Ginny and Hermione in the middle, and lastly, the two boys. Now, both of them were excited for the Quidditch World Cup, don't get them wrong, but this whole waking up before the crack of dawn to Hermione throwing pillows at them was not exactly their favourite part of it all.

The morning, however, had been all but calm, Molly had heard Fred and George trying to smuggle Ton-Tongue Toffees out of the house to sell, even after they got scolded for what happened with Dudley. Harry's cousin having eaten one that Fred and George dropped with the intent of him eating it, causing Dudley's tongue to grow in size. This made Molly yell at the two twins just before they left.

The woods were calm in the early summer morning, with fog still on the ground. Birds had started to wake up, and you could hear them sing as they flew above the tree tops. Harry had to admit that the woods close to the burrow were quite cozy. But he was broken from his own thoughts as Ron poked him and pointed out how far back from the others they were. Jogging to catch up with the others.

"Arthur!" The boys then heard a man call out. "It's about time, son."

"Sorry Amos, some of us got a bit of a sleepy start." Arthur jokingly looked back at Ron, who yawned.

It then dawned on Harry when they came closer that it was Amos Diggory and Cedric Diggory who stood there. Harry had talked to Amos once before when the man was happy over Hufflepuffs' win last year. However, this meant another person should be there, so Harry started to look around for her.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone. Works with me, at the Ministry. " Arthur said proudly and then turned to the brown-haired boy beside the man. "This strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?"

Cedric smiled at the man and extended his hand to shake hands with Arthur, smiling brightly. "Yes, sir." He answered before looking up at the big tree above them.

"y/n? Are you coming or what?" Cedrict asked his sister, who had gone unnoticed, where she sat up in the tree. When Harry spotted the girl, he smiled.

y/n grinned at her brother before she tossed down her backpack for him to catch and jumped down so she landed beside Amos. Making sure her stance was stable before she straightened out.

"Well, that's quite and entrance y/n." Arthur put a hand in her shoulder and she smiled.

"Thank you."

"Alright, this way." Cedric spoke up as he started motioning towards where they were going to go. So everyone started walking, and just before Cedric got too far, he tossed the backpack back to his sister.

"You carry your own shit," He told her.

"Cedric," Amos warned the boy, and he held up his hands in retreat and showed the others the way.

y/n was just about to join in and walk with Harry when her dad stopped him. He was amazed to have Harry Potter himself with them, and she could see Harry glancing over at her. She shrugged at him and joined Hermione and Ginny.

"I don't remember your brother being so good-looking, y/n." Hermione hooked her arm through y/n's.

"Ew, Mione. That's my brother. Plus he's way too old for you."

"Who says he's too old?" Ginny asked with a raised brow, and it made y/n groan.

"Are you aware that we can hear you?"Fred then turned to the girls.

"And if we can, then Cedric probably can too." Geroge chimed in.

"Yeah, well, ego boost for him then, I guess." y/n rolled her eyes and unhooked her arm from Hermione when she saw her dad walk past to catch up with Arthur. She slowed her steps and, quite quickly, was at Harry's side.

They both started to engage in conversation with one another. They talked about everything from the joke candy and things that Fred and George had been making or trying out during the summer to this mystery thing that was to happen at Hogwarts during the year. Harry joined in with all that he heard from Arthur and y/n told all that she had gathered from her dad. They're both thinking about what it could be.

But the topic soon changed to Quidditch. Of course, Harry was proudly standing with Bulgaria, but y/n were strongly against this. She was rooting for Ireland. They talked back and forth about why their team had to win. "Bulgaria has Viktor Krum. He's the best seeker of all."

"Oh please, he's all looks. Plus, Bulgaria play dirty most of the time; they're like the equivalent of when Flint was still captain of the Slytherin team. "

"No they don't!" Harry argued back, and it made Ron turn.

"You have no idea what you're talking about y/n, Viktor Krum will make sure Bulgaria wins." Ron spoke proudly, the boy being starstruck by the well-known seeker.

"Well, Ireland has Connolly," Fred piped in.

"And Quigley." Geroge also joined in.

"See!" y/n motioned towards the twins. "Fred and George are on my side; Ginny and even Hermione, who's not into Quidditch all that much, are rooting for Ireland. You and Ron are literally the only people who are hoping Bulgaria wins just because you're in love with Viktor Krum. "

A whole argument started between all the Weasley kids, Harry and y/n. All of those who were for Ireland were arguing back and forth with the two boys and counting up reasons as to why Ireland was going to win. It was all just fun, ending with all seven of them starting to laugh.

After a little while, they had been walking for a good hour already. Harry was about to say something to y/n but instead when he turned to her, he instead got fixated on her. Eyes looked over her features, having missed her over the summer. He could feel his cheeks slowly growing warmer and warmer the more he looked at her, and soon enough he had to avert his eyes from her as it felt like his face was on fire. Harry was quite sure his cheeks were red, but he hoped to Merlin they weren't.

Surely enough, they reached the portkey, although it made Harry frown as they walked closer, as he had no idea what a portkey was. "Just over there." Amos told everyone, and Harry's frown deepened at the sight of an old boot.

Harry tugged at y/n's sleeve before asking her. "Why are they all standing around that manky old boot?"

"That isn't just any manky old boot, mate," George cut in before y/n could answer.

"It's a portkey," Fred finished as he, George, and y/n moved into position.

"Time to go!" Arthur called.

"What's a portkey?" Harry was confused.

"Ready? After three. One, two," Amos started counting, but y/n quickly looked up at Harry.

"Harry!" And with that, Harry grabbed onto the boot.

"Three."

It all started to spin, or more like they all started to spin. Slowly but surely, they lifted up from the ground up into the sky, still spinning around. Everyone except Cedric, Amos, and Arthur screamed at the continued spinning. Though the twins were screaming in cheer.

When Arthur then suddenly told them all to let go of the boot, they all clinged onto it like a life line, making all except the older Diggorys go wide-eyed. Hermione immediately protested, even though she was slowly feeling sick to her stomach from the continued spinning. They all, however, did as the man had instructed them to and all dropped to the ground. Then, hitting the ground, all of them groaned and huffed at the sudden impact of the ground.

y/n looked up from where she lay on her stomach, coming to find that Harry was only about a metre away from her. "Ouch,"

Harry sat up and nodded at her, and when he turned he could see Amos, Cedric, and Arthur, all three coming down much more gracefully than any of the others. They are certain to land on their feet. All of them were grinning from how funny all the others had landed. "I bet that cleared your sinuses, ey?" Arthur asked as the three of them landed.

Cedric was quick to help Harry get on his feet, extending an arm for him to get pulled up. Earing a smile from the younger boy as he went to help his sister. "Oh, how nice of you, Ced."

"Aw, did my baby sister get hurt?" Cedric asked sarcastically. He pulled her up to stand too, and both of them laughed. The bantering between them was just a big joke to them.

"Come on!" Arthur called as he started to walk up the hill to where camp was. It made y/n smile brightly as she immediately grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him along. "You're going to love this!" It made Harry flush a crimson colour as she pulled him along with her to join the others.

Oh god did he like her.

——

The sun had begun to set over the field where the Quidditch World Cup was being held. The sky turned orange and was slowly becoming a dark blue that would make the stars and constellations of other solar systems visible. It was still pretty warm out, not overly warm but warm enough that not a lot of clothes were needed to keep warm.

People were making their way to their seats. Many had chosen to sit in the boxes in the middle of the stadium. It was a stadium bigger than Harry had ever seen. Now, he was not exactly looking to play Quidditch professionally, but to play at a stadium like this would definitely be something unforgettable.

All of them were looking around in amazement while making their way further up, Arthur in the lead. They were on their way to the top, which was a wise decision.If they were to stay by the boxes, they would have to squeeze together with other people. But if they were to be furthest up in the stadium, they would not have to fight for space with others and would have better sight than others.

"Blimey dad, how far up are we?" Ron asked as they stopped from having been climbing from the lowest level and were about thirty stories below the top.

Just as Arthur was about to answer, another man's voice cut in. One that they all knew very well and one that made Harry roll his eyes. "Well, put it this way, if it rains, you'll be the first to know." Lucius Malfoy smiled evilly at them.

y/n and Harry stood by the railing, looking down at Lucius and Draco, who were on the lower level. It was unusual to see Draco without his slytherin uniform. Instead, he was wearing a black suit, which did not seem at all practical. Draco laughed at his father's statement.

When they started to continue walking, Draco looked up at the others and smirked. "Father and I are in the minister's box, by personal invitation from Cornelius Fudge himself."

"Don't beast, Draco." Lucius stopped Draco with his cane, making the boy rub the spot where the cane had laned. "There's no need with these people."

Draco then looked up at them again. When he saw y/n however, a sly smile made its way to his lips. It was no news to most people that Draco Malfoy had taken an interest in the Hufflepuff girl. However, y/n had zero clue about that. The look Draco gave y/n made Harry roll his eyes. A feeling of annoyance was bubbling up inside him. No, not annoyance, but jealousy.

Before the two Malfoys could say anymore, Harry grabbed y/n's shoulder and started to turn her around so they could wall off. But Lucius Malfoy was not done as he slammed the snake part of his cane down on Harry's hand before it could leave the railing. It made y/n and the others turn just like Harry.

"Do enjoy yourself. While you can. " Lucius smiled unkindly at Harry before relinquishing his hand and walking off with Draco at his heels. But Dracos' eyes still stayed tranced to y/n.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, just fine."

"Well, let's keep moving then. "We don't want anyone taking our place, do we?"Amos called from where he stood, and everyone began working their way up the stairs.

"Are you sure you're fine?" y/n turned to Harry as they waited to start climbing the stairs.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Nothing big. " Harry stuttered as he once more felt his cheeks heat up. But this time, it seemed like y/n noticed and it made him avert his eyes from her.

y/n smiled as she quickly gave him a peck on the cheek, taking the boy by surprise. "Good, now come on."

Harry couldn't fight the grin that broke out on his face when y/n turned and grabbed a hold of his hand to start wall up the stairs.

Oh boy.

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Courthouse

Part seven of the Sassy series

Simon Riley/female reader 2.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI (no smut) mentions of blood, brief mention of sex, little bit of angst, fluff, romance. Uncle Johnny, Soft Simon Riley. Note: I wrote this with Haley Reinhart’s version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” in mind. You're the sun.

Wise men say Only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you

Theo thrashes in Johnny’s arms, making irritated mouth sounds while squirming his body in a desperate effort to pry himself loose from his uncle’s grip. The man behind the desk gives the lad a kind smile, before turning his attention back to the paperwork fanned out before him, and Johnny huffs in exasperation, his forearms banded around the giant six-month-old who continues his attempts at crashing his head into his uncle’s chin.

“Bleedin’ christ Theo, be still.”

“He wants his mum.” Simon explains, reaching over to wipe some drool from Theo’s chin with his thumb. “She’ll be here in a minute.” He tries to reason, patting Theo’s back to get his attention. He can’t understand him, but you insist on speaking to Theo like he’s an adult, telling him everything and anything about what’s going on at any given moment, so Simon does the same. He trusts your instincts.

The sound of a handle clicking draws his attention and he turns to the two oak panels that slowly part to reveal where you stand on the other side, hands clasped in front of your waist, nervous smile on your face. You’ve left your hair down, a rarity now since Theo has taken to attempting to rip it from your scalp every chance he gets, and your eyes are a little red, like you’ve already been crying.

Your dress is white. A crisp, bright white that reflects the morning sun that streams in through the tall windows. It’s a far cry from your field uniform and tac vest, or the leggings sweatshirt combo that you’ve been sporting around the house. Not that he’s complaining, because he considers every day he gets with you a gift that he’s not sure he deserves, a gift he’s still terrified will slip through his fingers when he closes his eyes. But this, this day, this dress is different. This wedding dress, that hangs delicately at your knees and has intricate lace that flows over your shoulders, is a special, sacred thing that he is still having trouble believing is really happening.

You had been so nervous about it this morning, tutting at Theo while you strapped him into the car seat, anxious to avoid having it smudged or stained. Simon had watched you, indulgently, from behind, as you bent at the waist to give the baby a sloppy kiss, whispering about how much you loved him, how cute he was, how good and perfect he was being, and how he better not torture his Uncle Johnny. You had wrestled Theo into this little dress shirt-pant combo that kind of matched Simon’s, and he had promptly spit up on it during the drive over here, Johnny frantically trying to dab it clean from where he sat in the backseat without you noticing.

When he looks at you now, wearing this dress, he feels like he’s having a heart attack. He thinks he might be dying. Not dying, he tells himself, just getting married.

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin If I can't help falling in love with you?

“You better get yer fuckin’ hands away unless you’re the one with MD in your title.” He snaps, long strides eating up the distance between him and med tent. The medic, a nervous looking young guy, tries to keep up next to him, hands fluttering uselessly over where you’re bleeding out of your abdomen. Johnny throws the medic an apologetic grimace as a woman, the trauma surgeon on base here, meets Simon just as he’s bursting through the door, two more assists behind her with a gurney.

“This the gunshot wound?” The surgeon points to the metal transport bed, and he places you down as gently as possible, cradling the back of your head so it doesn’t thunk against the hard plastic. Your eyes flutter open, red stained hand reaching for something.

“Ghost.” you slur, bloody fingers dragging across his vest. The gurney slides into place in a room, and your body jostles, a ragged moan slipping from your lips at the movement. He glares at the two medics on either side of you, and their faces go white.

“I’ve got you.” He says, gripping your hand in his, eyes trained on yours. You blink, hazily, mouth moving but no words coming out. Fear, real, shockingly cold terror, snakes through his entire body, and he squeezes your hand so tight he thinks he might be hurting you. A minute, maybe less, passes like this, with him unwilling to tear himself away, until he feels a hand on his shoulder, Johnny’s voice right above his ear.

“You gotta let them work, LT. They’ll take care of her.”

Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes Some things are meant to be

It’s not an aisle in a church. He’s not flanked by family or dozens of friends. Just Theo, a judge-type official, and Johnny bear witness. He thinks you’re supposed to have a bouquet, or someone walking you towards him, but you don’t have either of those, no one to hand you off, no one to tell you how much they love you before shaking his hand like they approve of this. He briefly thinks of Price, who’s known you longer than he has, who’s served as your captain on countless units, and feels a pang of regret. He wonders, if you thought about him being here with Johnny to witness, to celebrate.

It feels loud, for a moment. Like there’s too much going on, like Theo’s soft babbles are actually screams, like he’s not even really here. He fights the blank, white space that’s burning at the edge of his mind, fractured clips skipping through his skull, mixing with his memories until he’s not sure what’s truly going on.

He’s jolted back into his body when your hands take his.

“Hey.” you whisper with a squeeze of your fingers. “You okay?”

“Shoulda got you flowers.” He mumbles, disappointment tinging the words.

“Why?” You give Theo and Johnny an obvious look before swinging your gaze back to him. “Looks like I’ve got everything I need.”

Take my hand Take my whole life, too For I can't help falling in love with you

“What the FUCK is this?” you shake the stack of papers in your hand, and he sits rigidly in the chair where you’ve cornered him. He doesn’t look at you, focusing anywhere else but where you stand in the tent as your voice changes, the tone hitting high notes of disbelief and anger.

“Can’t have ya here Sass.” He trains his eyes on the wall to your left and resists the urge to bolt or worse, grab those damned papers and tear them to pieces.

“So, you reported an intimate relationship to Price? Just to get rid of me?” He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to explain it. Yes, no. No, yes. He needs you to leave, before it happens, before you’re lost forever. “Oh my fucking god, Simon.” Your laugh is bitter and it breaks him apart somewhere, somewhere deep and buried, somewhere you should have never touched in the first place.

“Can’t have ya here.” He can’t do this. Can’t feel this, can’t go through with this, can’t get this over fast enough. His heart feels like it’s burning in his chest. The walls look like they’re going to cave in and crush him, kill him where he sits.

He stands on auto-pilot, a burning panic searing under his skin.

“Simon!” He hears you yell; he hears your scream but he’s already walking away as fast as he can, desperate to escape your pain, running like a bloody coward. “Fuck you, Simon Riley.” Your words die on the wind, but he hears them all the same.

Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes Some things are meant to be

“I, Simon Riley, take you-“ he stumbles over your name, voice dangerously close to cracking with emotion. “for my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part…”

“I will love and honor you all the days of my life.” The official prompts, and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He can’t look away from you, can’t see anything else but you, the memories of your laughter, of your screams, of the way you sound when he’s inside you. Can’t think about anything except how terrifying it is, to have you, to feel the way he does, to know you in the way he does, to love you in a world like this.

Johnny clears his throat.

He presses down on your hand that he’s holding, just a little harder, and moves his thumb to where your pulse beats. Strong and steady. He takes a deep breath.

“I will love and honor you all the days of my life.”

Take my hand Take my whole life, too

“You,” he hears you say, voice light and sweet, “are going to be so smart, and kind, and strong. You’re going to be able to be whoever you want to be, do anything your heart desires.” He holds his body incredibly still, standing around the corner just so he can see the sway of your hips moving side to side as you rock Theo. “except maybe, don’t go into the military. I don’t think me, or your dad want you to follow in our footsteps. You should do something cool instead. Build rockets or become an acrobat. Anything you want.” Theo babbles and you tap the baby on his nose, causing him to shriek with laughter, little baby giggles seeping into Simon’s bones and warming him from the inside out.

It’s a sight he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. It’s the sight he knows he’ll see when he closes his eyes for the last time one day. He doesn’t deserve this, that he knows. He doesn’t deserve the happy ending, doesn’t deserve to be loved by you, or Theo, or anyone really. He’s caused too much pain, taken too much, hurt too many people, hurt you.

The glaring reality is that if he was a better man, he’d give you up. He’d save you from himself. Not push you away because you terrify him, no. He’d let you go, let you be free to find someone else, to build your life away from him and the hell that is his existence.

But he’s a selfish man, not a good one. You, and Theo, are the brightest point in his world. You’re everything. You’re the sun.

He can’t live without you.

For I can't help falling in love with you

“You may kiss the bride.”

He cradles your face, thumb smearing a runaway tear across your cheek. You’re crying, but trying really hard not to, and you sniffle with a laugh before his lips find yours, the kiss so sweet, so overwhelming that he loses himself in it, sneaking his tongue between your teeth, sliding a palm down your hip to the curve of your ass-

Theo shrieks. He flails in Johnny’s arms, unreasonable and uncontained, so Simon pulls him into his own, cradling the boy against his chest while you try to hold them both.

“What do you say, want to help dad put this on?” You stroke some of Theo’s wispy curls while Johnny pulls something from his pocket, a gold ring, sized for Simon’s finger. He hands it to you, and you let Theo wrap a curious paw around it.

“I have a silicone one for you too.” You say quietly, lowering the band to his ring finger. “But I thought you might want this, for when you’re at home.” You push it halfway on before pulling it off, eyes widening for a moment. “I uh, forgot. It’s inscribed.” He plucks it from your fingertips to inspect it, and the tiny, engraved writing gleams in the light.

‘I got you. -S.R.’

“S.R?” His initials?

“Sass. Riley.” There’s a timid smile on your face, and he’s lost his breath, again, for the hundredth time today as he stares down at you, unsure if he’s dreaming or not. You pull the ring from his grasp, slipping it onto his finger the whole way this time, stroking the pad of your thumb overtop the gold.

“Do you like it?” Theo babbles in his arms, swinging a small fist into his chest.

He nods and leans forward, ghosting his lips across yours, gentle and soft as he whispers, “I love it, Mrs. Riley.”

For I can't help falling in love with you.

#sassy series #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod fanfic #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod mwii #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost cod #female reader #simon riley x female reader #mw2 #peaches writes #simon x sass

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apomaro-mellow · 6 months

Text

King&Prince 1

Steve moved like the sword was an extension of his body. Normally, he thought nothing of it when he sparred with some of the knights. But today his father was watching. Steve had been the apple of his parents' eyes once. But it didn't take long before everything he did turned from 'adequate' to 'not good enough'. Alric watched his son from a window high above.

Steve had showed promise when he was coming up. He wasn't especially bright but in body he was sound. He had surrounded himself and made himself the center of attention of the young lads of the court, as he should. Alric encouraged Steve having an entourage who looked up to him and hung on his every word. But at some point, he'd grown... well the best way he could put it was listless. No longer did he have a crowd who trailed after him. He had discussed it at length with his wife and they both agreed he needed something to whip him back into shape.

And a good smack just didn't do the trick anymore.

Alric had his suspicions. That Steve had gone soft for one reason or another. The cause mattered little to him. What was important was fixing it while there was still a chance. Alric's slight frown turned into a deep glare. A young squire had fumbled and stumbled with his practice blade and Steve stayed his hand while he waited for the other to right himself. Whatever happened to the son who would have struck down any enemy without a thought?

"We could be going to war soon", Alric said late into the night. He stood before the fireplace, staring into it. Juliana sat, nursing a drink.

"I thought we were doing all that we could to avoid that. If that Mad King retaliates with all his forces..."

"He won't. He talks a big game. My father knew it and my grandfather knew it." The previous kings of the Harrington line had all fought with the beast one-on-one. It was rare to hear about him moving any number of soldiers. But it was well documented that he had power over a horde of monsters. If he ever decided to invade, Alric had to admit, if only to himself, that he would be strapped for man power right now. But he was assured that the Animal across the border wouldn't do that. He wouldn't do anything.

"What does this have to do with Steven?", Juliana asked, worry creeping into her voice. She knew what her husband might say next but was dreading it. They had discussed before but...

"I'm going to send him to the mountains. To the keep we've maintained in the north. The retainers up there will put him back together again."

"Alric please, they'll destroy him."

He walked from the fireplace to the window. "They'll make him into a proper king. Something that we've been unable to do somehow. If a few pieces of him get chipped off in the process, then all the better."

And if it was more than a few pieces, if Steve was completely broken, well Alric could work with that as well.

They announced it about a week later, when the preparations had already been made and Steve walked into his room to find a servant already packing his bags.

"You're sending me away?!", Steve shouted as he nearly crashed into his father's study.

Alric had his back to Steve, looking out onto the horizon where their enemies lay in the distance. He was like a stone and Steve almost took a step toward him when he caught his reflection in the window. He was looking at Steve through said reflection, clearly waiting on something. Steve took a breath and turned around. He walked out, closed the door. Now on the other side, he knocked.

"Who is it?", Alric asked.

"Steven, Father", Steve announced himself.

"You may enter."

With a sigh, Steve, opened the door, gently this time, entered, and then closed it behind him, but stayed by it until his father invited him closer.

"What brings you to my study, Steven?", Alric asked as he turned around.

"I had to hear from someone else that you're sending me away. Why?"

Alric sat down behind his desk and templed his hands. "Why am I sending you away or why did you hear it from someone else?"

"I don't understand? Did I do something wrong?" Good princes didn't get sent far away to a frozen hell.

"It's to build you some character. You'll thank me for it later."

"But why am I going?"

Alric suddenly stood up and the abruptness made Steve take a step back towards the door. His pulse quickened as his father slowly moved around to stand in front of the desk.

"You may have forgotten, but I am your king. You go where I order you to. And perhaps while you're there, you'll learn some manners."

"How long am I to stay?"

"Until I get a report that you have become a proper prince."

Steve turned and opened the door, ready to leave when he father cleared his throat. Steve looked down at his feet as he closed the door and turned back around, asking for permission and having it granted before leaving the study.

It was honestly just his luck. Winter would be over in a couple of weeks and spring would be finally showing its face and he was about to be shipped off to the coldest place on earth. On the day of his departure, his mother kissed his cheek, the last bit of human warmth he'd probably be feeling for a while. And it was just as chilly as a snowflake on his skin. There were platitudes as they were packing his things away into the carriage, but Steve felt like he only heard half of it.

As the carriage set off, Steve realized that he honestly wasn't leaving much behind. He had no friends, and his parents were devoid of anything but disappointment. He would miss the greenery, though. Steve kept his eyes on the passing scenery, taking in as much as he could before it would be taken up by snow and rocks. Steve was so deep in his own wallowing, he had forgotten that the path would take them close to the border. And as the carriage edged closer, an ambush lied in wait.

Part 3

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #pre steddie #steve harrington

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dycefic · 2 years

Text

The Strange Case Of The Amateur Detective

At some point, surely someone must notice the pattern... right? Note: Beginning slightly edited for clarity.

It took a while, but I’ve convinced Maggie to tell me when she goes out of town. I’ll feel better, I say, if I know for sure where she is when a body makes the news.

Which is true, of course. The sheer frequency with which that little lunatic does it keeps me awake at nights. But it also enables me to take certain precautions.

Like this one.

“Hello, Branford County Police Station, Constable Ford speaking.”

“Hello, Constable Ford, this is Detective Inspector Winsbury. I’m going to need to speak to whoever is in charge there about a possible murder.”

As usual, there was some back and forth at that point, but eventually I got through to an Inspector. “What do you mean, a possible murder?!” he asked, irritated.

“Just what I said. Tell me, Inspector, have you ever had dealings with an amateur detective? The real thing, I mean. The genuine Carrion Crow.”

His tone went from hostile to guarded. “I’ve… heard some things. Never met one.”

“You’re about to. Mine’s visiting Branford, ostensibly to see an old school friend, and I wouldn’t bet you the price of a beer that she’s not going to show up to report a murder within a few days.”

“You can’t possibly - “

“Her count’s at fourteen, to my certain knowledge.”

“And you’re sure she’s not just a very clever serial killer?”

They usually ask that. It’s understandable, if a bit annoying. “Not only have I been physically with her at the time three of the murders were committed, two were committed before she was born. That’d be pretty damned clever, don’t you think?”

“Oh, hell.”

“Yes. If you’ve got any old missing persons cases, or unsolved murders, get the files out and refresh your memory. I’d go back at least fifty years, if I were you. Focus on anything mysterious or that got covered up.”

“She’s likely to find a fifty-year-old corpse?!”

“I was standing right there when she found a hundred-and-nine year old set of remains in the walls of an old church she was helping to renovate, less than five minutes into the renovations.”

He let out a heartfelt groan. “Oh no.”

“It’s not so bad,” I said encouragingly. “Maggie’s better than a cadaver dog for finding remains, although even she doesn’t know how she does it, and even better at putting together evidence. She’s got a knack for seeing patterns where nobody else does. Whatever case she turns up, she’ll help you solve it within… oh, probably a few days, a week at most.”

“Really?” The Inspector sounded like he was wavering between skepticism and hope. “I’ve heard stories about Carrion Crows and their closure rate, but I can’t say I ever believed them.”

“Believe them. The longest it’s ever taken her was a month, and that was because she spent two weeks in hospital in the middle of it, and there was a delay on some of the evidence.” I leaned back in my chair, putting my feet up on my desk. “She’s pretty cooperative, as a rule. Not one of those ones who wants to beat the police - she’ll work with you if you let her. If you don’t, she’ll solve it anyway and make you look like a real chump, so let her. Stay on her, though, because she’s got a bit of an impulse control problem when she’s on a scent.”

“She’s likely to run into danger?”

“Mmm, no, not often - she’s just turned fifty, she’s slowing down a bit - but keeping her from touching the evidence can be a problem. She knows not to, but sometimes in the heat of the moment she forgets.”

“Ah. Yes, I see.”

“If you’ve got any strapping young lads or lasses who show some promise, assign one to her. She’s usually pretty nice to anyone under thirty if they make a mistake, but she gets snippy at someone she thinks is old enough to know better. They’ll learn a lot.”

“And she won’t ditch them?”

“Almost never if they’re polite, especially if you ask her to keep an eye on them. Just make sure they don’t argue with her too much, or scoff at her deductions, or she will absolutely ditch them and they will never know how she did it. Even I don’t know, and we’ve been working together for years.”

“I see.” He sighed, and the faint rasping was probably a hand rubbing over his chin. “A real Carrion Crow. Does she know… why?”

“What made her Death’s favourite girl? No. They usually don’t. I know there’s always stories about the murder of a loved one setting them on the path, but that’s actually pretty rare.” I’d done a lot of research, after I realized what Maggie was. “Most Carrion Crows have no idea why they start finding bodies. There’s no consistent trigger for it.”

“No kind of pattern at all?”

“Well, no, I didn’t say that. There’s no consistency about trigger events, but Carrion Crows themselves do tend to conform to a certain type. They’re usually very detail-oriented, and good at analyzing patterns. They’re always curious. If presented with half a story, they can’t resist finding the other half. They’re usually self-employed, or retired on a moderate income, or in a job that allows them a lot of snooping time, like a reporter or researcher.”

“That makes sense,” he said slowly. “The… gift, or whatever it is, comes to people who have the time and ability to use it.”

“Almost invariably.” I examined the scuffed toe of one of my boots. “And they care about people. They’re compassionate. I’ve never encountered or heard of a real Carrion Crow who was selfish.”

“Carrion Crows are always good people?” Now he just sounded confused.

“That depends on your definition of good. Criminals have been Crows in the past. One of the earliest confirmed cases of a Carrion Crow was a young pickpocket in London in the 1820s. But they’re people who care about other people. It’s one of the reasons they find out so much more than we do - people under pressure respond to kindness and compassion. It makes them want to confide.”

“Ahhhh.” He sounded enlightened. “That I understand. I have a sergeant like that. Got a face like a gargoyle, but everyone loves him because he’s just… kind, to everyone. People tell him all sorts of things.”

“Maybe don’t pair him up with Maggie, or they might achieve some sort of critical mass. A tea-party could spontaneously form around them.” I laughed at that mental image. “Anyway, if a tiny little middle-aged lady with big brown eyes and a horrible cardigan shows up and tells you there’s been a murder, take her seriously.”

“Will do. Thanks for the warning.”

I left my name and number, in case they needed more help, then hung up.

Nobody knows what causes a person to become a Carrion Crow. They’re not common, and you can spend a whole career in law enforcement without meeting one. But sometimes, for reasons nobody’s ever been able to explain, a hitherto perfectly ordinary person turns into a magnet for murder. It’s as if Death itself just taps them on the shoulder and says ‘you’. As if Death itself wants murders to be solved, the lost dead found, the unknown dead named, and their killers brought to justice.

Who knows? Maybe it does. All I know is, they need a close eye kept on them. A lot of Crows wind up murdered themselves, by someone desperate not to be caught. That’s why I call ahead every time Maggie leaves town. Why I’ll even follow her, if I can’t get the local police to listen to me.

Maggie cares about people, living and dead. And I care about Maggie. Anyone trying to kill her is going to have to get past me.

#original fiction #short story #surely in a universe in which this can happen #it doesn't only happen once #and sooner or later #people will notice

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 10 months

Text

a sin you were made for │Daemon Targaryen x Daughter!Reader

See my Masterlist for more works!

Please note: this is a ONE-SHOT unrelated to my terms of endearment series.

Synopsis: Your stepmother Rhaenyra thinks it is time you get married. Your father disagrees.

Um, I’m really sorry about this one. It’s awful. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs and @randomdragonfires for being my unwilling victims during the writing. Some notes: you are Laena and Daemon’s firstborn daughter in this one, born before Baela and Rhaena. As such, this is POC reader, though I hope it can be - well, not enjoyed - by everyone. Plus, this is technically ‘smut’, but it’s arguably the worst thing I’ve ever written so if you ain’t into it I do NOT blame you.

Triggers: non-con, NON-CON, incest, age gap, breeding kink, forced breeding kink, major angst, Daemon’s a creep and a bad man, and a bad father, and overall bad.

“Do you love me, my girl?”

“Yes, Papa,” you say, lip quivering.

There is no man quite like Daemon Targaryen. He is vicious and unrelenting as he is warm and doting, a being of such utter extremes that one’s head may very well spin off its mount before truly comprehending the individual before them. Sometimes it is frightening to linger in his presence; he has a way about him that keeps you forever guessing, unsure of which side of the coin he has landed upon at any given moment. You see, his capriciousness does not spare you—not even you, his eldest, the apple of his eye. Today, you sense that it is one of those days.

He snorts, eyes cold.

“Your stepmother wants to arrange a match for you,” he muses, almost to himself. The calm of his tone unsettles you, unnerves you. “Some cunt from the Vale, methinks. Tell me”—he leans forward at this, fingers clasped together like a penitent’s, only you know he will never be sorry—“is that something you want?”

You swallow. “No, Papa.”

His brow quirks. “No? You don’t want a strapping young lad from the Snakewood to make you his wife? Fuck a few pug-nosed, brown-haired vipers into you? Hm?”

Your heart sinks. No, no, no… You hate it when he gets like this.

“No, Papa,” you try again. It comes out as a whisper.

“No.” He sits back, a darkly pleased tilt playing at the corners of his mouth. “That’s what I told Rhaenyra. Alas, she’s quite determined. Thinks it’s unnatural for a young lady your age to take company with her father. Do you think she’s jealous?”

“I—I cannot say.”

Baela and Rhaena had bonded well enough with your stepmother, folding easily into something resembling family, but you… Long has she watched you with carefully assessing eyes, darting back and forth between you and her husband, suspicion written in the planes of her visage but never voiced. You wish she had. Perhaps he would never have stumbled into your rooms soused on wine after celebrating the announcement of little Viserys’s impending arrival; perhaps he would never have seen you there, asleep, so much like your lady mother (and oh, how you miss her laugh and the sound of her heartbeat thumping through her chest and the riotous spring of silver curls smelling of rich Myrish spices even now); perhaps he would never have conceived the notion to claim this fresh Targaryen maiden, because Targaryen maidens belong to Targaryen princes and he was a Prince in all but deed, and so you had belonged to him before you truly knew what it meant for bodies to conquer, to take all and leave nothing behind. Perhaps you would never have awakened to the leaden weight of man over you, foreign fingers pressing between your legs where they ought not to go, this part of you is for your husband one day, dearest, you are to save it for your marriage, but one look up at the glow of pale hair in silver moonlight and the face you had known and loved so well contorted wild and sinister—lust, it is called, you know this now—and you had quailed, for is it not a daughter’s duty to be good and obey her father? And so he had brought the parts of himself you knew not the name of and pried your own open, apart, asunder, hand shoved up against your mouth to quell the sounds sprung from your belly at the agony of it, too much, Father, it’s too much, and sh, you’ll take it, you’re mine to have and I’ll do as I like, and you had felt your brain rattle in your skull at the vigour of his driving thrusts slapping into you, worse than a strike across the face because he had told you all the while I love you, daughter of mine, Papa loves you, and that is all you had ever wanted to hear from him.

No, you cannot say how Rhaenyra feels. You are sure she has her own ideas as to what he spends evenings with you doing—but she will never make the move to ask. Thus, you will never be free.

Your father grunts. “Well,” he says. “I’ll have to put a stop to this nonsense. Can’t have my daughter married off to the Vale, not when I went to such lengths to escape my own incarceration to that bronze bitch.”

This again. You school your expression into something placid. “Of course, Papa.”

He stares at you. “You’re quiet tonight. What—no words of praise for your father? No gratitude?”

“Tha—thank you, Papa.”

“For?”

“Stopping my match to the—to the Vale.”

“And?”

“For keeping me with you.”

“That’s right.” He nods to himself, bringing the cup he has held loosely in his fist to his lips. A droplet of wine treks down his chin—you imagine it is blood. My blood, my life and body and soul and blood, it is all for him whether I like it or not. “I’ll be causing a lot of strife,” he says, “preventing this thing going ahead. Your stepmother will be positively wrathful.”

“Yes.”

What else can you say? If you stay silent, you risk incurring his ire; he does not like for you to behave like a mindless doll. I like a bit of fight in them, he had said once, drunken eyes roaming and drunken fingers fumbling around your throat. Meekness bores me. He is angry when he is bored.

Papa smiles, the action transforming the hard planes of his face into something softer, gentler. You know better than most how deceptive a thought that is. “I think I’ll need reminding. Of how much you love me.” He taunts you with the word, as though love is as meaningless as any other mundane feeling. But it’s not. It’s not. Love is what allows him to break you. “You can do that, can’t you, pet?”

“Yes, Papa.” Your knees knock beneath your skirts, heart racing. He will ask. Any moment, he will ask. “How do… what do you wish of me?”

There. A glint. In the eyes. The kind curve of his mouth turns razor sharp, a knife with which to ribbon your flesh into a thousand thousand pieces. “Take off your dress.”

When you were younger, you had possessed a gift. At times of strife, of extreme and undesired emotion, you could just… slip away inside your mind, if but for a small while. Whatever would happen next would seem as though it were occurring below, and you were above your body watching on, detached, the performance continuing in spite of the fact its main character had departed the stage. You had floated above, looking on as Vhagar bore your mother to blackened bone and ash; the taste of that ash coating your mouth, of burning flesh sometimes awakens you still, but the memory of it is dim, lost to that nether space where time is meaningless. You had floated above when your mother, mama mama please come back save me mama, your sweet, loving mother had been returned to the seas she missed all your life, and the scent of the saltwater sets your nose to streaming in rare bouts. You had floated above as your papa had destroyed you then built you anew for his own desires, pain and the hot lick of pleasure-shame distorting sleep into a hellscape.

Papa’s command leaves you damp between the legs. Sometimes, you think it is your maidenhead bleeding afresh, just like it did that night. You wonder if he will come away stained red again.

He does not like it when you are not readily available to him, so your gowns are easy to remove. A tug here, a shuffle there. The fabric slips to the floor with nary a sound, chased swiftly by your shift and your underthings. When he asks you to remove the dress, he asks for you to remove it all. You had learned that the hard way.

Your toes tingle with the desire to run as he stands, reminding you just how much more he is than you. Older, wiser, stronger, taller. His fingers trace the curve of your breast, pale upon brown, languid as only a man possessed with surety in his claim ever could. Up, up, up he moves, eyes following the path, scorching fire in his wake. Those fingers knot in your hair, crumpling curls between callouses, pressure forcing you down, down, down.

“You know what to do,” he says.

Papa is too big, or you are too small. Whatever the reason, it is why he sits upon your mattress after you tug off the belt, tug down the breeches, shoving the leather strap under the bed so that he does not catch sight of it and decide to use it on you again. He cannot force his cock between your lips when he is standing and you are kneeling. He is too—and you are too—

Hand on your nape. “Go on,” he murmurs.

It is graceless, but you know by now how to make it easier. You work your tongue in your mouth to draw forth the saliva, letting it spill past your lips and track slimy down your chin as you lean forward. Papa is half-hardened, curved like a dagger against his thigh. You start how he likes, by taking him in your grasp at the base and pressing your lips to the tip like you would kiss his cheek.

“Look up.” He grunts when you follow his wish. “Smile.” You do. “Gevie,” he praises. Beautiful.

You do not feel beautiful. You feel wretched.

He tastes caustic, bitterer than the ale you had once snuck from the cellars, but this is a flavour you are accustomed to. It hits your tongue wrong, and you chase that feeling of wrongness, that feeling that Papa seems to have done away with entirely. Knowing that this is against the laws of gods and men is, strangely, the one thing that makes you feel better. A reminder that it is not your fault, perhaps. That it is his.

His fingers tighten against your scalp, pulling, pulling. “Hen hynge sētetāks bībagon raqā, gaomo daor?” You love sucking the cock that made you, don’t you?

The reminder sours in your belly. For a moment, you wonder if you might gag up on him again. Last time, he had jerked you off him and, when he had cleaned himself up, held you close, soothing you with wine-soaked kisses as you cried. It is tempting to make yourself heave if only to have that version of your father back.

A light slap to the side of the face grounds you. “I didn’t say stop,” he says above you, stern and cold.

You push yourself further along him, breathing through your nose until you no longer can, until he has stuffed himself so far down that you feel lightheaded and sick. Salt-musk sticks to your palate and curdles your insides as you fight for air. He cares little, gripping your skull between his palms like he intends to crush it to pulp, taking command of your body to slide along a rhythm of his choosing. Wet, choking sounds fill the room along with his panting moans. All you can do is fist the covers on either side of him and try to recall what it had felt like to slip free of the shackles of reality, to ignore the strike of his sweat-soaked stones jostling against your chin and the winded groans of the man who is supposed to love you.

Not like this, you think. Not like this.

It is only when you splutter around him, the sting of bile making you retch, that he finally takes pity on you. “That’s a girl,” he croons, patting your back as you spit up on the stone beside his feet. “You did better this time.”

Better is not good. He had said that to you once.

Hoisting you up to the mattress with little fanfare, you lay winded on your belly as he rearranges you to his liking. Quickly enough, you are bent almost in half with your face pressed to the covers, knees close to touching your shoulders. In this position, there is no hiding—the cool night air caresses whisper-soft along the split between your legs, forcing you to bloom.

“Pretty cunt, such a pretty cunt,” Papa is muttering behind you, the head of his cock nudging through the grool that slips from the opening he has tilted high for his viewing. Sometimes, he teases, makes it feel nice, makes it just a little harder to feel so awful when he touches you like this. “Desperate fucking cunt, look at all this, you little whore—”

He departs; a firm pass of tongue up from where you are most sensitive, and you cannot help the sound you release as his mouth slurps greedily and messily, and oh, it feels nice, it feels better than a full tummy or a warm summer’s day or a soft fond hug, and maybe he wants to make this time special—

His tongue travels upward, circling the furl of your other hole, the place he has always threatened to stick his cock into whenever you have made him very, very unhappy.

“Papa!”

He laughs. “What”—he sits back, thumbs spreading your rear wide so that his spit dribbles sticky and warm down your back passage—“you don’t like that? I think you would. Sluts like you love getting fucked here.”

You shake your head, terrified. “I don’t—I don’t, Papa, I don’t—” I’m not a slut, you want to say, all that I am is what you’ve made me, but you also think that he’s made you into a slut anyway, and perhaps that is why he had wanted a daughter in the first place. His own personal slut.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He is still chuckling when he prods himself through the mess of saliva and slick, notching himself at your cunt and beginning the slow push in, always slow because he likes the feeling of you fighting to keep him out. “Stop fighting,” he murmurs as you wiggle, an instinctual drive to get away, “sh, sh.”

Papa holds you down by the back of the neck as he sinks in, never rocking in-out to wet the way and ease the path, no, the panicked clenching and the slight grit of entry excites him, makes me feel like a man, your stepmother’s too fucking loose from all that cavorting about she’s done, do you know how that makes a man feel, my girl?, and you feel like he is shoving the air from your lungs with his own length as it tears its way through you. Fingers digging into the tendons is what keeps you still, battling to keep the tears at bay, for he only gets belligerent when you cry, ungrateful girl, after everything I’ve done for you, I could’ve just left you with your grandmother and grandfather but I took you with me, you owe me, and sometimes you think that maybe you would have been better off with strangers like your mother’s parents than you are with the one that remains to you.

“Papa—it hurts, please—”

“I know it does,” he says, damp kiss to the shoulder, “but you’re a good girl, aren’t you? Be grateful. Stop complaining.”

You hear the warning for what it is. Stop complaining. Your sisters wouldn’t. Maybe I should seek them out instead. Rhaena, kind little Rhaena, perhaps she’d be more grateful than you.

He growls when he hits home, an unkind knock that whites out your vision for a moment, deep and visceral.

It is the only part that is slow.

“Fuck, you’re tighter than Laena,” Papa is saying, grip turned to palm flattening your head to the mattress as he punches through you in short, sharp thrusts, stabbing and burning like a wound. “Tight little cunt just for Papa, no one else, no one but me—”

You bite into the sheets so hard that you think you may just slice straight through, grind your bones into dust and your flesh into ash like your mother’s, and would that not be a fitting end for yet another of Daemon Targaryen’s prized conquests? Like mother, like daughter.

He smacks you across the backside and you try to rear up, squealing, but you are stuck beneath his hand and on his cock and can go nowhere. There is something about it that he likes because he does it again, and again, and again. You are grateful that your skin does not redden like Rhaenyra’s, like your little half-brothers’, that most of the marks will bruise below your mother’s colouring for only you to feel and to know.

“Only thing you’re good for, getting fucked, letting Papa fuck you”—every time he says it, you cry, but you cannot help that, it hurts to hear him say it like it hurts to feel him in you—“don’t know how I’ll ever let this go—”

“Papa, Papa—”

His teeth sink into the meat where your neck and shoulder meet, painful like most of his touches are, and you yell at the sting of it, yell until his hand slams clammy over your mouth to hold you close and quiet and still. “Shut up, shut the fuck up, be good—”

Fingers worm below you, pinching at a nipple and rolling between rough pads, pleasant enough any other time but now it only hurts, only makes you choke on silent sobs like a fist has come around your throat to steal the life from you.

His hot breath rasps over the indentations he has left in your flesh. “I’m going to come in you, get you fat and full of me. Give you a little babe, ruin you for anyone else. What do you think?”

He doesn’t normally spend inside you. Your mind whirls, near-hysteric. Brother-son, sister-daughter, brother and son or sister and daughter. Little sibling tucked up in your own womb, put there by your father.

“See if she tries to rid me of you then,” he snarls, grabbing you by the hips to grind desperately into you, as though he is trying to worm his way into your flesh in some sickening reverse of birth. “Fucking bitch… You’re mine. I seeded you on your mother, I can do what I want with you. I made you for me, no one else.”

If he could, he’d beat Rhaenyra’s head in with a rock like he did his first wife and marry you. He’s said so on some nights; only when he drinks, though. If he were any other man, the talk of marriage might ease the bite of your misuse—but Papa collects wives like knights collect favours. When he tires of them, they die.

Papa’s thrusts turn quick and uneven, piercing, his growl a steady rumble where he joins with you. “Going to come,” he gasps, nails digging into your skin with the strength of his grip. “Going to come in you, my girl—”

“No, no—”

“Yes, give you a little Targaryen babe like you deserve—”

“No, please—”

It is too late. He blusters against your back like an angry bull, wordless noises of animal pleasure driving against your flesh, and warmth bursts inside you, coating you up with the same essence that had given you life. It feels nice, almost comforting, swilling there.

By the time he slips out and rolls you to your back, your tears have dried. You are able to give him the wan smile he wants, mechanically accepting his lips on yours like he is a lover and not the man who sired you. When he kisses you, it is easy to pretend that this is something that you want.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His breath tastes of the wine. “I’ll speak to Rhaenyra.”

“Okay, Papa.” You are resigned to it. There had never truly been any possibility of him letting you go, anyway.

You remain splayed out on the bed as he pulls up his breeches and seeks out the belt you hid, staring up at the canopy, your father’s seed leaking out and seeping through the covers, the sheets, the mattress. They are the only witnesses of your sin.

Papa stops at the door, violet eyes—your eyes—glowing in the night. Even from here, you can see the threat that looms in his expression. “If I find out you’ve been to Gerardys again… you won’t like what happens.”

“I know, Papa,” you say quietly.

For good measure, he locks the door, the key grating in the mechanism as it always does. And so, you are trapped in, unable to seek out moon tea as you had done the last time he spent in you. It is cold now. The hearth ought to have been lit. But the maids know better than to disturb Papa when he comes to visit his firstborn.

Wincing, you rise from the bed. It is like walking on sea legs. As you go in search of your nightgown, you see your reflection in the mirror.

Riotous silver curls rumpled and untidy. Deep circles beneath your eyes. Hollowed out cheekbones. Swathes and swathes of dark skin mottled in places, distorted and marred by your father’s touch. Thin knees, thin elbows, thin arms and legs. A doll left wasting away in the corner, forgotten and alone.

And there, right along your middle, a barely noticeable swell.

Your hand falls to that spot, the place where your brother-son or sister-daughter grows in secret, and your eyes fill with tears again. When he finds out, you will never escape. You will never be free.

The whisper carries eerie through the silence. “I know.”

Read it on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48466069

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dreamsforthedamned · 9 months

Text

Fallout 4: Companion Age HCs

Cait: 25. She was sold to slavery at a very young age, and (ignoring the whole Psycho addiction) she seems young.

Curie: 31. I believe synths are usually made near the age of 30, as there's not a lot of visual changes in the body for some time in that period.

Danse: 27. He looks older than he is (PTSD amirite) but I don't think BoS soldiers, especially ones that actually go into battle, last very long.

Deacon: mid-40s. One of the oldest in the list. He has seen some shit.

Dogmeat: 2. A strapping young lad!

Hancock: 40-something. He stopped counting after going ghoul.

MacCready: 23 (canon)

Nick Valentine: 50's. He has that Dad Vibe™.

Piper: 26. College student vibes.

Preston: 24. Surprisingly young, definitely doesn't act like it. A prime example of the term "old soul", partly because like Deacon, he has seen some shit.

X6-88: 30's. Synth reasons.

Longfellow: 67. Not old enough to feel like a grandpa, but bordering on it.

Gage: 36. He's practically a senior citizen by raider standards, only got this far cuz he's smarter than most (and refuses to do any drugs ever).

Maxson: 20 (canon). Looks 30, probably due to stress (and his raging alcoholism)

Desdemona: 33. Insanely smart and experienced.

Ronnie Shaw: 50s. Self proclaimed old dog.

Mason: 25. Blood of his enemies keeps him strong.

Nisha: 20. Covers her face to hide her age.

Mags Black: 28.

William Black: 26.

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sailoryooons · 6 months

Note

🧡🎃 my queen. i have been sent here by the guardians of the moons to slip a drabble request of spooky-weenie love. we can keep it rated pg 13, imply relationship/smut if you desire. however i shall be here — looking for the young lad taehyung, dressed up as prince charming at a heavily intoxicated halloween party. frantically searching for his partner, oc!cinderella, as he realizes the strap to one of her heels have broke and she is walking around barefoot without her shoes on (typical cinderella amirite?) and as the goodest of boyfies — he is just trying to take care of his girl. oh, and he discovers — after searching throughout the entire complex — that she has accidentally gone overboard after her last intense and competitive game of beer pong and oc has found solace in a bush outside the house 😂😅🥹 to where her tiara sits crooked on top of her drunken head and her prince charming comes to assist her with whatever else has gone wrong 🤪🧡

❀ Pairing: Taehyung x f. reader

❀ Summary: Taehyung loves being your prince charming, even if it means trying to find where you’ve wandered off to in the middle of a Halloween party without your shoes.

❀ Word Count: 1,657

❀ Genre: Established relationship, Fluff, Drunken Silliness

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Taehyung is a simp!!! Recreational drinking, reader is absolutely tanked but in a funny way, Taehyung is drunk but not as drunk, general descriptions of being drunk, one very sweet kiss, talks about toes djgdogidjgid, one sexual thought slipping through Taehyung’s brain

❀ Published: October 10, 2023

❀ A/N: THIS IS FOR MY QUEEN MAGGIE!!! MY BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL SAILOR MAGGIE! Everyone is just going to have to accept the bit about the toes and the running around barefoot in this because listen - we had a vision and I stuck with it and!!! Taehyung just loves her even if she’s ten-toe hogging it around a party with no zappatos on!! This was so fun and sweet to write and my god I need to write Taehyung more because I’m so down bad for him rgoidjgodijgdoigj. THIS IS ONLY GRAMMARLY EDITED SFODIGJ PLEASE FORGIVE ME EVERYONE.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Haliween Requests |

When Taehyung sees the silver pair of heels kicked off outside of Jimin’s bathroom, he knows it’s over for you. He still can’t help but smile, bending down to scoop them up by the straps, dangling off of his fingers.

Jimin’s house is full of creatures and goblins and ghouls and in Taehyung’s case, a prince. The itchy fabric of the Prince Charming costume is nearly insufferably where it rubs at his neck, the overcoat sweltering in the heated atmosphere of the Halloween party.

Music thumps as Taehyung navigates out of the hall, swiveling his head as he goes. Fifteen minutes ago you had announced rather loudly - and with a wicked lean that nearly knocked over the beer pong table you’d been championing - that had to relieve yourself. Taehyung watched with a buzzed grin as you picked your way toward the hall, lifting the skirts of your Cinderella dress to avoid anyone tramping on it.

Now, there’s no Cinderella dress in sight.

Taehyung pops into the kitchen, hoping to find you drinking water. Only Yoongi hides in the kitchen, ripping off the cat ears Hoseok has stuck on his head. Taehyung spots the fridge and realizes that you might want water when he finds you. He needs water to find you, the room spinning a little and his mouth still awash with the aftertaste of the witches' brew Seokjin had plied him with.

“Have you seen Cinderella anywhere?” Taehyung asks Yoongi.

Yoongi scowls as he wets his hands under the faucet and starts wiping at the cat nose on his face.

“I think she went out in the backyard. Something about a pumpkin at midnight.” Taehyung snickers and shakes his head. “She was also missing shoes. And said something about pong champ.”

Taehyung holds up the items in question. “I think she might have crushed it a little too much at the pong table. She's running around barefoot”

“Well, it is Halloween. Maybe she’s in touch with the Hallow’s Eve or whatever Or your princess turned into a werewolf and is currently howling like a fiend.”

“Uh-huh. Good luck with your cat nose.”

“Good luck with your princess. Or werewolf.”

Little does Yoongi know, Taehyung is always lucky with you. From the day that he bumped into you in a coffee shop, to the first date you went on, to years later, sharing an apartment above the coffee shop you love so dearly, Taehyung has been lucky every day.

He grins thinking about it, opening up the back door and heading into the year. It’s a crispy night, cool air brushing against the sweat gathered at the back of his neck. He pauses for a moment to shrug out of the itchy, cornflower blue overcoat of his Prince Charming costume to reveal a white tee.

Tying the coat around his waist, Taehyung surveys the yard. There’s no one outside that he can see, but the porch lights reflect all the way to the fence. Jogging down the steps, he glances up at the sky. It’s the perfect night, a thousand stars mapped across the world in perfect silence.

It makes sense that you would come out here, he thinks. You love to look at the stars, but most of all, Taehyung knows you’d like to lie down somewhere and look at the skies after having something to drink. Knowing you, you’d have come out for fresh air after realizing how drunk you were in the bathroom, only to get distracted by the sky.

He loves that about you, though. Loves that he can somehow piece together the way your mind works, loves that the natural course of trajectory for you was through the kitchen and out into the yard with a flippant comment about a pumpkin.

“Jagiya?” Taeyhung calls out, warm breath fogging in front of him.

“Pa-riiiiince!”

Taehyung turns around to look at the garden. He raises his brows when he sees your legs sticking out from the mulch. He presses his hand to his mouth, trying to conceal his laughter and shock that you are crushing Jimin’s marigolds.

He jogs over to you, finding you on your back with your hands tucked behind your head. You don’t seem to mind that you’re splat in the middle of flowers and dirt, your misty eyes fixated up on the sky with your mouth open in a dizzy smile.

You look radiant. Bathed in moonlight, eyes wide and lost in the sky. Even if your crown is a little crooked and your dress is a little stained, Taehyung feels his heart rate speed up. You may be dressed as a princess for the night, but you look like a goddess. Ethereal.

Taehyung feels a little dizzy. You reach for him and he complies, unable to say no to you as he sits and feels the marigolds crush under his ass. Your hands are warm and soft in his as you sigh in delight, thrilled to see him.

“The stars are so wonderful,” you breathe. You turn your head. He notices the yellow petals stuck in your hair. Your face changes from wonder to something else. Adoration, he thinks. Taehyung’s stomach flips as you squeeze his hand. “Almost as beautiful as my Prince Charming.”

“My Cinderella is beautiful too.” He holds your shoes up. “Even if she is running around ten-toeing it, barefoot in the middle of the night.”

You squeal, making grabby hands at the shoes. He lets you have them, laughing as you grab them and hold them to your chest, closing your eyes. Your head lulls to the side and he can see the sleepiness pulling at your edges.

“You’re sloshed, huh?”

“Like a coke slushie from the movie, Your Princely-Highness-Lord.”

He can’t fight his grin. “Have you had any water?”

“Champions don’t drink water.” He holds out the bottle of water to you anyway. You reach for it but miss several times before your greedy little fingers get a hold of it. As he lets it go, you loose your grip and it hits you square in the face. “Motherfucker, the water is attacking the champion!”

Time to get you home.

“It’s after midnight, Princess Champion. We gotta hitch a ride on the pumpkin.”

“Get the cat to drive,” you mutter, not opening your eyes. “He was trying to wipe his nose off in the kitchen.”

Picking himself off the ground, Taehyung manages to get you up and dusted off. You sway in front of him, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. He can see the desire boiling there, and though it makes the blood rush to his groin, he ignores it, knowing you both need bed.

Kneeling down, Taehyung slips your shoes back on. He’s careful, lifting your feet by the ankle to delicately slide the straps up. You’re nearly asleep as he works, eyes fluttering as his touch skims along your cooling skin. It’s only then he realizes that your shoe is broken and that leaving it on your foot and having you walk is dangerous.

Sighing, he takes them back off, intent to carry you to the Uber and up to your apartment. His fingers make you wake up a little, swinging your head down as you say, “Hey weirdo. I have a boyfriend - a prince, to be exact - and he wouldn’t appreciate you touching my toes. Those are his.”

Taehyung laughs and stands up. He looks down his nose at you. You have to tilt your head back to see him, breath coming out in sweet little puffs that smell like juice. “Oh,” you say as Taehyung lowers his mouth, nose brushing yours. “You’re my boyfriend. These are your toes.”

“They are,” he agrees. He steals a sweet kiss from you. Your mouth is warm against his, lips softer than ever. A shiver ripples through him as you melt into his touch, content to put your weight on him and let him hold you up. He always will. “Let’s get those toes home and in a pair of Sailor Moon socks, hmm?”

“Yeeeees.”

The Uber home is quiet. You immediately lean into Taehyung, smashing him against the door as you knock out. He smiles all the same, wrapping a warm arm around you. He kisses your head before leaning his forehead against the window, feeling the cool glass bring him all the way back to sober.

Lights blur by outside. Orange and purples of Halloween, smears of costumes, and partygoers coming and going from their haunts for the evening. Once you’re at your apartment, he rouses you and lifts you up, carrying you up the stairs as you go. Your crown only falls off your head once, which he dutifully sets you on the ground to collect so you don’t loose - in your words - the honor of your kingdom.

You sprint the rest of the way to your apartment then, tearing through the halls in your bear feet until you’re inside and on the bed panting, completely in disarray.

Two glasses of water, pajamas, and Sailor Moon socks later, you’re crashed in the bed, snoring lightly. Taehyung grins at your form, opening the drawer of the dresser where he stores his pajamas. Seeing you in your shared bed in his shirt, hand reaching out looking for him is the perfect end to this night.

Sliding into a t-shirt and sleep pants, he moves to close the drawer before he hesitates. At the bottom of the drawer is a black, velvet box. It’s perfectly square, and Taehyung smiles when he sees it, thinking about the way your eyes were starry and lost as you looked at the sky. He pulls a shirt over it - it only needs to be hidden for a few more days.

Shutting the drawer he turns to look at you. His sleeping beauty, now.

Biting his bottom lip, Taehyung laughs. It’s after midnight, but your spell on him isn’t broken. It never will be. And he cannot wait to slide the ring on your finger instead of sliding slippers on your feet.

#taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #bts fic #bts fluff #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung drabble #bts fanfic #taehyung imagines #haliween

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 5 months

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A/N ::: I'm absolutely bat shit crazy for the idea of an older ProHero!Kiri. That age crossover with men when they're not quite strapping young lads (early to mid 20's?) to when they're distinguished gentlemen (mid 30's to 40's? ... even if they're not distinguished, they can still look the part 😆). *I tagged some of you simply because I (hoped) thought you might like some fun Kiri stuff this morning. If you don't want to be tagged every now and then, let me know and I won't randomly add you. =)

C/W ::: M->F oral, fingering, orgasm, squirting. Pretty short, sweet & to the point 🤷‍♀️.

WC ::: just over 1.4 k

(This fucking picture thoughghafejkdajlk)

I'm very hung up on older ProHero!Kiri right now. Laying in bed, reading the news on his tablet or laptop at the end of the day. He's already washed up and his red hair with dashes of white is tied back in a sloppy bun with one of your hair ties because he always 'loses' his. But you know it's bullshit. You've caught him smelling them before. You know it's because they smell so much like your hair that he wants them instead of the crap he buys for himself.

You get out of the shower in your master bath that's just off the master bedroom. Standing in front of the full length mirror closet doors to give yourself a once over before you strut around in front of your husband like an animal trying to secure a mate.

Your eyes roll over the surface of your freshly washed body. Droplets of water ease down your shoulders and breasts, stopping for a moment to rest on the tip of your nipple before they are another victim to gravity. Looking further down at your newly shaved cunt, you're so nervous, too ... to what? Present yourself to him?

You've never done this before. Never wanted to. Never had a reason to. Kiri hasn't ever hinted at wanting you to be bald - not even trimmed. He eats his meals like a big boy: without any complaints and he always finishes what he's got served up before him. He'd never complain in the first place, he's just so damned happy to be there between your thighs.

Walking into the room as nonchalantly as you can muster, you're brushing your hair and you ask him if there's anything good in local news.

"Nah, nothing I didn't already know about, babe. Anyway, I'm about to turn in for the - um, sorry? WHAT is going on with your pussy right now? Get your gorgeous ass over here right this instant, please, mama. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Are you trying to kill me with this??"

You blush and giggle, exercising every ounce of your willpower not to reach down and cup yourself to hide from his gaze. "You like it, Ei?" You ask, even though you're a little afraid of the answer. Despite the big stupid grin across his unshaven face.

"Do I - do I like it? *aheh* I-I-I ... fuck. I can't even talk right now. C'mere, c'mere." He lifts his massive arms and gestures for you to join him in bed. You can already see where the imprint of his cock has risen against the sheet he's got pulled up to his waist. Your pussy clenches at the excitement of what he's going to do with you. To you.

You take a few tentative steps toward the Alaskan King sized bed and walk up the little steps he built for you so you wouldn't have to struggle too much when you climbed onto the mattress. He had a special platform attached to the bedframe because he's so damn tall. You told him it would be easier for you to slide out of bed than it would be for him to have to start his day from a near crouch. It always makes him laugh, watching you do this. You just look so little to him. Oftentimes, he can't help himself but to aid you as you ascend. It's a little thing that makes both of you incredibly happy to have the other.

Once he has you up there with him, he lets go of your hand and runs it from your calves up to your face and holds you there while he kisses you softly. But you can tell by his breathing that he doesn't want to go slow tonight. His right hand is holding him up as he leans into your neck and pushes your hair aside with his left, eventually grabbing your throat and holding you there while he sniffs around at your spotless (and hairless) body.

"Sooo ... do tell, my little. What prompted the sudden change of, oh, hairstyles? We'll go with hairstyles. Why'd you shave your pussy? You didn't ... you didn't do this for me, did you? Because I don't want you to feel like I ---" He started his usual reassurance before you stopped him. "No! Nothing like that, Ei. I've just never done this and I wanted to see what it would be like. Y-you like it, though?" A wave of panic washed over you as you lay next to him.

"Oh my god, ye-yes. I fucking love it. You look beautiful. I love that I can see all of you. My pretty little pussy is all out there for me now. In fact, I think - mm-hm. I do. I gotta taste you. Now." He got up onto his knees, discarding his boxer briefs as soon as he tossed the sheet from over his legs. His cock, already leaking, slapped against his stomach.

His body is so fucking beautiful. Even more so than when he was in his 20's. He is strong. Ridiculously so. The hair on his chest sits there unassumingly. Perfect and inviting and warm to the touch. Really, he is warm all over/all of the time. It's comforting.

As you watched him make his way around to you, you glanced at the clock on your nightstand. In the time that it took you to look at that, he was on you. His giant hands wrapped around the curve of your thighs and he was pulling you toward him at the middle of the bed. You yelped at the sudden slide against the silk sheets. You moved easily enough, it was just such a surprise. Though the more you thought about it, the more you realized you should always be prepared for him to do stuff like this.

"There ... we ... go. Ok, babe. I'm going to thoroughly devour you, ok? Like, I've never done this on ... on a bald pussy before. I'm going to take all of you in. So lay back and open yourself up to me, cutie-pie." You blushed again and laid down, back flat against the bed. He laughed softly through his nose as he nudged your knees.

Kiri kissed his way from your inner knee, up your thigh to your soft folds. He looked up at you and smiled before he pushed his nose and mouth against your cunt. Your body shuddered as he moved his tongue around your clit and started to suck on it. He held onto your thighs and pressed his mouth harder against you as you started to get wetter. He moaned into you as he tasted your juices and pulled back just enough to say something to you.

"Fuck, I love your pussy. 'S so fucking perfect f'r me. Love you so much, babe. Thank you for ... fuck ... thank you for this delicacy." He dove back in, licking up your slit and sucking on your clit again. You moaned and grabbed at his hair as he started to use his fingers to push inside of you. He worked his hand so well, so gently. You felt him curl his fingers upwards as he started to rub against your g-spot. It was so fucking intense. You knew you were about to come, but you couldn't tell him fast enough.

Your body tensed up as you drew your legs up to your chest and the orgasm washed over you like a slow wave. You shook and you moaned loudly as you squirted in his face. He licked and sucked on you until you pushed his head away. Kiri wiped his mouth and chin with his hand and he noticed your body was still shaking.

"Are you ok, little? Did I ... do something?" You lowered your legs and pulled your arms from over your face and he saw your smile. "You're laughing?" He asked. You nodded and continued to laugh, almost hysterically. "What's so funny?" The look he was giving you in conjunction with the orgasm you just had, was about a blissed out as you've ever been. "No-nothing, Kiri. I'm fine. That was just really, really, really fucking amazing. I'm just happy 's all." You looked up at him as he was sucking his hand clean.

"I'm happy too, babe. And this was fun. You think you'll keep it like this for a while? Or ...?" He ran his fingertips over your mound as he kissed your stomach. "Please?"

Taglist ::: @neon-gothicc @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @arlerts-angel @callm3senpaii @millennialmagicalgirl @pastelbakugou

Dividers by me // Canva

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v3nusxsky · 10 months

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We both know how much I love your writing so I have to request some more sub Larissa x dom reader. (Plot is completely changeable as always I'll happily read whatever you write.)

My idea was r and Larissa went to school together. They had a mutual dislike of each other, r thought Larissa was stuck up and a rich prick who didn't know anything about real life and Larissa was annoyed r didn't apply themselves because they were smart.

Flashforward to present and r is at parents weekend since they look after their little brother and Larissa invites r back to her office for wine for a catch up and they end up finally admitting why they both annoyed eachother so much is because they both had a thing for the other and they finally end up fucking and r lovingly teasing Larissa about how submissive she is for them compared to how dominant she pretends to be for her job?

If it fits could you include biting/marking kink, bondage, breeding kink, bratty Larissa 9

Wand lots of after care?

Thank you so much!

Smoke and mirrors 18+

*Authors note~ only one tonight guys I’m sorry! I have to go on a family trip tomorrow so it’s been stressing me out preventing me from writing. Also car trouble which is equally as stressful! But here we go, I hope this is okay for you all*

Trigger Warnings~slight angst? Sub l dom r biting/marking kink breeding kink degrading and praise kink mommy kink strap on, oral sex

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

You'd changed a lot since your Nevermore days, that much was certain, you and your brother Emerson had lost your mother three years ago. Since then, you'd raised him as practically your own son. Your ability is telepathy while he was a siren. So it really made sense that you were to send him to Nevermore just like your parents had with you. Your time at Nevermore was nothing but enjoyable apart from the stuck up rich prick that you had a dorm with. The raven haired girl wasn't so bad, hardly ever stayed in Ophelia hall but the blonde? God you couldn't stand how she acted or held herself. Really she didn't know anything about real life where you have to fight for everything and anything. Nothing is handed to you on a plate. Running to daddy wasn't an option because daddy was never there. It wasn't just you though, Larissa found you irritating, to her you could apply yourself more to your studdies, stop leaving everything to the last minute and take some responsibility for yourself. You had the brains and she knew that, she just wished you would use them more.

Arriving for Emerson's first parent's weekend was exciting, you'd missed the young lad and truly couldn't wait to hear about his experiences at Nevermore. What you were not expecting was to be greeted by Larissa. Surly she would've left Nevermore like you? It appeared not. "Emer? Who's that?" You whispered to your brother causing him to smile, "Principal Weems, she said I can go her anytime I miss mom or dad." So it appeared she did have a kind part of her. Interestingly. Maybe your younger self misjudged the blonde.

After she did her talk to officially start parent's weekend she began to mingle, making a beeline for you. "Emerson is this your sister darling?" She practically purred as the young boy smiled and happily introduced you to her. "Well well well, how many years has it been love? I'm sorry about Diane, she was always wonderful to me" she murmured and you nodded in thanks, "it's been a while, your principal now?" Pleasant conversation was made until Emerson's friend came to ask if he'd go into Jericho with his family and him, of course you chucked and ruffled your brothers hair okaying it. "Well it seems your at a loose end, would you like to come and catch up in my office? I have wine" she chuckled hoping the wine would sell you, truly she wanted to know about you, this air of maturity and responsibility allowing her to see how truly magical you are.

That was how you found yourself three glasses into her bottle of wine staring at the blonde, wondering how she would taste on your tongue. Perhaps that's why you did it, you lunged forward to capture the blondes lips before practically mounting her lap. Glasses of wine long forgotten as you straddled her lap, your hands roaming her clothed body as Larissa just let you. A submissive act. A smirk adorned your now slightly swollen lips, "do you want this Larissa?" You practically purred her name causing her to nod enthusiastically and cry, "please god please."

That was all it took for you to move down her body until she could lay flat on her back. Only then did you tear through her clothing to admire her in all her beautiful glory. "God you're stunning" you whimpered to her as you kissed every inch of her bare skin, loving the little gasps of need mixed with pain as you pinched and tugged on her pert buds. "Oh god please" she whined to you causing to nip at her breast, "who am I darling?"

"M-mommy?" She whispered causing you to find her stuttering adorable, the all dominant principal being nothing but a slut for her mommy just added to the power play. "Good girl darling, mommy will fix it okay?" The speed the blondes head was nodding almost had you feeling it would fall off, "please gods I need you!"

After teasing her thighs you took your first swipe from her glistening folds and you were a goner. As if you'd taken a hit of your favourite drug and needed more you dove back into her cunt, licking sucking and lapping at it. It was if you thought she'd run dry and you'd never get enough. A starving woman for the blonde. Larissa's whines and mewls for more only spurred you on in your task. You couldn't help but moan around her clit at the taste of her before slipping two fingers into her soaking cunt. "Oh god! Mommy god please wanna cum" she mewled as you lightly scrapped your teeth over the rock hard bud.

"Cum for me gorgeous" was all you offered before you went back to harshly sucking on her aching bundle of nerves. With a very undignified squeal you were reward for all your effort as her cum drenched your fingers, her hips bucking wildly to ride her orgasm out. Of course you stayed there to help her through and saver your reward before kissing back up her body. "Shall we move this to your bedroom baby?" The hazy smile and nod of her head followed by her attempting to stand on shaky legs gave you your answer. "Oh no you don't princess, I've got you" you murmured before picking the blonde up, despite her blatant attempts to say she's far too heavy only for you to capture her lips to shut her up.

Tossing the blonde on a bed like nothing more than a mere rag doll you asked where she kept her toys and of course like the good little submissive she directed you to them. There you found a wide range, so it appears the snobby uptight blonde is actually rather normal. Who would've known? Selecting what you wanted, a double ended dildo that could vibrate you made your way back to the blonde. You were admiring the marks you left on her ivory skin, the desire to make more, to add to the collection running rampant in your mind. The blonde squirming in anticipation on the bed gave you more ideas.

Larissa Weems most certainly wasn't planning to spend her parent's weekend bound to her bed at the complete mercy of her ex roommate who she thought still hated her and vice versa, but it was true what they say, there's a thin line between love and hate. You couldn't help but smile at the blonde being helpless and at your mercy. "Look at the Principal of Nevermore being nothing more than a whore for me" you teased as you secured the faux dick before teasing her soaking slit with the cock head. "Mommy! Please please put it in" she whined feeling sensitive from her previous orgasm. "Okay princess, but I will not be stopping till I've come, using you like nothing more than a flashlight for mommy."

You did just that of course, you were humping the faux cock into her pussy at such a force and pace that all she could think see and feel was you. The sight of her eyes rolling back into her beautiful brain with every brush the head of your cock made with her cervix. Her moans now nothing but incoherent babbles and pleads to continue. Of course you complied, using her fluttering hole until you wanted to stop. "God I'm gonna fill you up so good princess, gonna make you so round and full for mommy. You'd like that huh? Nothing more than a cum dumpster for mommy. Watching you swell as you carried my child. God you look so beautiful all pregnant from me" you panted as your orgasm took over your thrusts.

Larissa came around your cock for the third time as you both rode out your climaxes together before you slipped from her now extremely sensitive cunt. Her cum still seeping from her hole giving you a sense of pride. You tossed the strap to the side and immediately came to hold the blonde to your chest. It is common that submissive people find it hard to regulate after such intense feelings but the beating of your heart could work to ground her. What you were not expecting was to feel a wetness hitting your bare chest. Her shoulders shaking with sobs but no sound. She was crying.

"Larissa? Darling talk to me what can I do love?" You murmured coming to stroke her hair. Hopefully you were providing some kind of comfort. "I - m sorry for how rude I was at school. I just I didn't want you to fail because you are capable of great things. I was hard on you because I wasn't ready to admit I liked girls. I liked you. I'm so sorry" she sobbed not really taking any breaths in between her words but some how you still caught them all. "Such a silly golden goose, Larissa I knew that. I wasn't ready either darling, I saw you as something I desire but can never have that's why I said those things. I like you too my goose."

The silence that overtook you both was pleasant and comfortable, both just soaking in the words the other said. But you were the first to break it. "Can I take you on a date Risa?" You murmured to the blonde causing her to smile and nod happily, "yes!" You matched her smile and tilted her head to steal a kiss. "Can I tell everyone that the Principal of Nevermore is my very own personal and private submissive little whore?" You teased causing the blonde to smack your arm, "and ruin my reputation? No way mommy!" The sounds of your laughs filling the blondes bedroom as she snuggled impossibly closer to you. "You are so perfect my golden goose" you murmured before a sweet kiss was pressed to her blonde curls. "Sleep my darling girl, you need your rest, I plan to use my pretty pet in a few hours time."

Word count~ 1910

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa weems smut #larissa x you #larissa x y/n #principal weems x you #principal weems #principal weems x reader #weems #weems smut #weems x reader smut #weems x reader

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catindabag · 5 months

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TBOSAS on Crack short take (45)

Strabo: My lady, I am finally glad to meet you again.

Grandma’am: Oh, yes. I remember you when you were just a strapping young lad fresh from the Districts.

Strabo: You do?

Grandma’am: Of course. How could I forget one of my late son’s favorite lovers?

Strabo: So you knew about us?

Grandma’am: My dear Crassus never once kept a secret from me.

Strabo: Even when it comes to his love life?

Grandma’am: Especially when it comes to his love life.😌💅

Strabo: So you knew about the time when we-

Grandma’am: Secretly snuck out from the military base and went “stargazing” because you two were bored?😏

Strabo: Oh, Panem, Horn of Plenty, you knew about that?!

Grandma’am: Of course! When I said everything, I meant everything.😈

Strabo: My lady, Crassus and I-

Grandma’am: Mr. Plinth, might I remind you that this meeting is not about you and Crassus. This meeting is about my grandson and your only son and heir.

Strabo: Of course. You may continue, my lady.

Grandma’am: Very well, Mr. Plinth. Let me make this very simple. Your foolish son is in love.

Strabo: Yes.

Grandma’am: With my gorgeous wishful grandson.

Strabo: Correct.

Grandma’am: The Snows have the old and respectable Capitol name and influence.

Strabo: True.

Grandma’am: And you Plinths have the money and munitions.

Strabo: Also true.

Grandma’am: We both know that our true goal is to rule Panem through the ✨Plinth-Snow Dynasty✨, correct?

Strabo: Very much.😈

Grandma’am: So there is only one thing that we must do to achieve our goals.

Strabo: Yes. A union- no. A ✨Royal Wedding✨ and an unforgettable marriage between Sejanus and Coriolanus that will change Panem forever!😈

Grandma’am: Exactly!

Strabo: And then we could get rid of that greedy Monster Cardew and those shady Ravinstills!

Grandma’am: As well as that pesky Highbottom who keeps calling me at night just to cry about my dear Crassus!

Strabo: And then we can replace those useless ✨Government Bichon Puppy Loving Bureaucrats✨ who were randomly appointed by President Ravinstill for fun!

Grandma’am: And hire the right fools who would do our dirty work for us!😈

Strabo: My son shall be the future ✨President of Panem✨!

Grandma’am: And my grandson will be the face of our beautiful dynasty!

Strabo: Then they will give me a dozen grandchildren with the looks of the ever gorgeous Crassus Xanthos!

Grandma’am: And everyone will be enthralled by their beauty!

Strabo: While we rule Panem from the shadows! *evil laughs*

Grandma’am: And then we can lower the food prices and the housing market! *evil laughs*

Strabo: And host our own games!

Grandma’am: A talent show that will take the world by storm!

Strabo: And we will call it-

Grandma’am: ✨PANEMVISION!!✨

Tigris: So. . . Who wants tea?😀

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kingsandbastardz · 3 months

Text

I originally had this as an addition to @nutcasewithaknife's great post about LLH holding onto DFS' famed Yingzhu armor, which is one of the few meaningful things LLH kept from his previous life as LXY. But I always sound like im shitposting and didn't match tonally so I'm posting it here in my own sandbox instead.

So yes, all of this. 100% agreed.

But also the fact the armor looks very suspiciously like underwear.

I mean. I still have deeply important questions about why a pair of sparkly underpants has become so famous and valuable -- aside from the ridiculous expense and extreme difficulty of having used like however many strands of "the strongest" silk to weave the thing. Which is ridiculous but maybe some crazy martial artist weaver did it.

Fun fact: one of the world's strongest (durability) natural fiber is spider's silk. Modern experiments with using this material to create armor for the army involves turning it into single use spray on sheaths meant to be worn directly against the skin. Also fun fact, spider's silk is some of the world's strongest material for being able to hold far beyond its weight. So using it as armor is actually really cool!

This is the type of undergarments DFS would typically be wearing.

So already, the Yinzhu armor is unusual in the form it takes because it looks like modern-day 20th century trunks/underwear. But MLC has tons of anachronisms and that can easily be explained by lack of materials and the enterprising design sense of whoever made the armor. (Or time travel!)

Here's a close up of the material. It looks like tiny metal discs held together with 'spider silk'. Which would wreak havoc to DFS' junk if he was wearing it against his skin and would probably rip all his pubes out. So I'm going to make the claim that each 'disc' is likely spun silk that's then pieced together. Very, very, very labor intensive.

But... yeah. If we're going off all the things LLH has kept from his previous life... This one item is such a wild outlier for so many reasons.

DFS doesn't seem like the type to be transgressive enough to wear this sort of thing on the outside, so I have deep suspicions that LXY got hold of it through equally petty means as his petty and passive aggressive 'revenge'. He claims DFS is so clingy, but LLH's attachment is really not that far off. And they're both just as annoying about it.

Also! This thing is named: 贏珠甲 which can be translated as Victory-Pearl/beaded-armor. Triumphant pearl armor? Beaded armor of I-prevail-against-my-opponents?

What's so triumphant? Honestly the first thing that comes to mind is some strapping young lad wearing his best undergarments on the hopes of getting lucky that evening. Except this is DFS and his version of lucky probably involves dueling LXY in some form or another.

(hehehe 'dueling')

I'm forever going to call young 20-something DFS mr sparkle dick (cuz disco ball panties, get it? Eyyy.)

EDit: The translation seems to differ but the ones I'm looking at says "spider silk thin as an insect's wings". While another version says "the strongest silk as thin as an insect's wings" 干翻絲薄如翼

#di feisheng #mysterious lotus casebook #li lianhua #meta #my royal ramblings #Yingzhu armor #I try to write serious things but everything I write makes me sound like a total weirdo #sorry I'm Cantonese speaking and only just now learning to read

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myherokatsuki · 2 years

Text

— Part I —

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, alcohol, flirting, nothing too scandalous this time around, f!reader, reader is called little lady, darlin’, sweet pea, & sugar as pet names

Word Count: 3k

Summary: When two new gorgeous farmhands start working on your daddy’s ranch, how can you ever choose between them, especially when they both make it clear they want you. Who says you have to choose?

a/n: Based on this brainrot & inspired by @thecowboykatsuki-anon‘s wonderful cowboy!au. I know y’all are waiting on some of my other wips, but this one kinda grabbed me by the throat and I had to get it out there. There’ll be two more parts for this. :3

When you woke bright and early that Monday morning, heading from your little cabin tucked away in the back corner of the ranch to the main house like you did every day, little did you know how much your normal routine was about to be disrupted.

“Mornin’!” you called, finding your mother in the kitchen already setting out breakfast.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” she greeted, pausing to plant a kiss to the top of your head like she did every morning. Even though you were all grown up now and basically living on your own (even if you hadn’t technically left the property), you’d always been her little sweet pea.

“Where’s daddy?” you asked, noticing your father’s empty chair as you took your own seat.

“He already ate, he’s getting the new farmhands started out in the field.”

“Oh, that’s right, hay baling starts today,” you mused, picking up a strip of bacon. “Wait, I didn’t know we hired any new help. What happened to the usual guys?”

Your mother sighed, her lips twisting slightly. “They just up and left the other day without a word, left your poor daddy scramblin’ to find new help on such short notice. Luckily he found two strapping young lads new to town and looking for work. They’ll be stayin’ in the apartment above the carriage house,” she explained, noticing your curious expression.

“You’ll meet them soon enough. I’ll have you bring some refreshment out there closer to lunch.”

When you nodded, trying to hide your excited grin, she pointed at you with the end of her fork. “I know what you’re thinkin’, y/n. No funny business now–”

“Me, funny business? I’d never!” you exclaimed quickly, but you were already wondering what these new farmhands would be like… or if they’d be nice to look at.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, you packed up the lunch and fresh squeezed lemonade your ma had made and headed out to the field where the two were working with your father. As you approached, you let your gaze stray to the two young men, about your age, eyeing the pair up discreetly. At first sight you could see how built they were, their well muscled arms bulging as they easily hoisted the finished bales into the back of the truck. But as you got closer, their heads swiveling toward you, you faltered. They were clearly more than just easy on the eyes, they were gorgeous.

The red haired one with his long locks pulled back and held out of his face with a grimy bandana grinned widely, waving as you approached, while his blonde friend merely watched you, pushing his cowboy hat back to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Though his expression didn’t change, he watched you intently, the corner of his lips finally twitching briefly as he caught your eye.

“Ah, y/n, there you are,” your father exclaimed, breaking the spell, and you turned to greet him.

“I brought you guys somethin’,” you said, setting the tray down and pouring each a tall cold glass of lemonade.

“You’re a lifesaver, darlin,” your father replied thankfully, accepting the drink and tipping it back.

You snuck a glance at the other two, feeling their eyes on you. “You gunna introduce me?” you prompted and your father chuckled, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before gesturing to the two in front of you.

“This is Katsuki Bakugou and Eijirou Kirishima, they’ll be helpin’ round the ranch for the rest of the season.”

The blonde nodded, followed by the redhead and you nodded back.

“Boys, this is my daughter, y/n.”

You could tell he wanted to say more, but thankfully he held his tongue, not wanting to embarrass you in front of them, though you had a feeling he’d probably give the two a lecture once you were gone.

“It’s a pleasure,” Kirishima said, hastily pulling his work glove off to shake your hand.

“Pleasure,” Bakugou echoed, taking your hand next.

“I, uhm, I brought some sandwiches too,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat under both sets of ruby eyes, and your father bade the boys take a break to eat.

Once they’d finished, you reluctantly took the empty glasses and pitcher back to the house, but before you knew it, you'd found yourself ambling back toward the barn as your father left the two to unload the truckbed on their own.

This time you found Kirishima had already shed his sweat dampened t-shirt, his tanned skin shining in the golden light of the setting sun and you leaned against a nearby fencepost to watch them work, a grin playing on your lips as you admired them.

Feeling your eyes on them, Kirishima glanced up, nudging Bakugou with his elbow when he noticed you watching.

“Looks like we got a spectator,” he murmured, throwing you his most charming grin.

Bakugou let out a grunt, but looked over as well, letting his gaze linger over you for a moment. “This job just got a helluva lot better,” he muttered back, though his grin slipped when he caught you biting your lip as you unabashedly stared at Kirishima’s chest, admiring the way his muscles flexed and stretched with each movement.

Not to be outdone, Bakugou pulled his hat off so he could peel his shirt over his head as well, giving you a bit of a show.

“That’s more like it!” you teased, laughing delightedly at the feast of flesh before you. It was cute how obvious Katsuki’d been to catch your attention.

“So, my father give you the whole ‘don’t disrespect my daughter’ talk yet?” you asked, and the two glanced at each other.

“It mighta come up,” Bakugou replied, shrugging, pausing to replace his hat, his unruly ash blonde hair still poking out from beneath its curved brim.

“Mmm, I see,” you hummed, pouting slightly. “Hope he didn’t scare you off.”

“We don’t scare so easy,” Bakugou drawled, giving you a meaningful look.

“Yeah, don’t worry, we know how to behave,” Kirishima agreed. “...And when not to,” he added with a wink, the implication filling you with heat.

“I like the sound of that,” you murmured.

“There anything fun to do around here when you’re not workin’?” Bakugou segued and you tapped your chin thoughtfully.

“I can think of a few things,” you mused, lips curling mischievously. “There’s a bar in town that serves good drinks,” you suggested. “Pool tables, good music, good people.”

“Great!” Kirishima exclaimed, sharing a look with his friend. “Maybe we’ll see you there.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably go this weekend,” you replied, grimacing when you heard your mother call for you. “Guess I gotta go help with dinner,” you sighed wistfully, lingering for a moment longer.

“I’ll see you boys later!” you called, getting one last good eyeful in before winking and pushing off the fence. As you sauntered away, you could practically feel their gaze on you; their eyes glued to your swaying hips.

Things were definitely about to get a lot more fun around here.

——

Over the next few days you were never far from the two new farmhands, making it a point to work nearby or to stop and flirt at any chance you got. It was beginning to grow painfully obvious that both men liked you—Kirishima perking up as soon as you neared and Bakugou watching you, huffing jealously any time his friend made a move before he could.

Enjoying the attention, you couldn’t help but tease them, purposefully pitting them against each other a little. It was just harmless things, like complimenting Eijirou on his strength just to watch Bakugou lift twice as much next just to show him up. Or asking Katsuki for help opening a new jar of pickles, giggling as the two argued over who could do it.

The one time you brought Kiri a glass of sweet tea and a towel to clean off with while he was working on the old tractor’s engine, Bakugou grumbled under his breath, very nearly pouting til you walked past and gave him a peck on the cheek before heading back inside, rather pleased with yourself.

However, by the time the weekend rolled around, the two were beginning to catch onto your little game. Taking your advice, they decided to hit up the local bar to let off some steam and relax.

“She definitely knows what she’s doin’,” Bakugou muttered, bringing the dark bottle to his lips and taking a draw.

Kirishima nodded, watching as you walked through the door, thanking his lucky stars you’d shown up. Whistling low under his breath at the sight of you in those painted on jeans, hugging your hips just right, he froze, staring.

“She definitely does,” he agreed vacantly, drawing Bakugou’s gaze as well.

“You know I ain’t backin’ down, right?” the blonde huffed, his brows knitting as his eyes followed your path to the bar. “If she wants a competition, then let’s give her a competition.”

Kirishima chewed his lip, thinking it over. He definitely didn’t want to give up—there was something special about you and he wanted to get to know you better, not to mention see you stretched around his cock, but Katsuki was a force to be reckoned with and he was probably the most competitive person he knew.

“Fine, you’re on,” he exclaimed, making up his mind, the prize too great to give up on.

A feral grin spread across Bakugou’s face as his eyes returned to you. “First one to get y/n in bed is the winner, and the loser’ll back off,” he announced, holding out his hand.

“May the best man win,” Kirishima agreed, shaking his friend’s hand firmly. “Guess we’ll see just who she prefers once and for all.”

“Guess we will,” Bakugou repeated, finishing off his beer and ordering another round. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said, pushing away from the bar, fresh beer in hand, he made a b-line right to you.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, sugar.”

At the sound of Bakugou’s drawl, you turned to grin up at him, cheeks heating slightly as he tipped his hat to you.

“Hey, you came!” you exclaimed, embracing him, glad to see him, half hoping you’d bump into him and Eijirou tonight.

“Sure did, had to come see what all the fuss was about,” Kirishima answered before Bakugou could, nodding to you with a flirty wink.

“Eiji, you’re here too!” you gasped, delighted, wrapping him in a friendly hug as well. Bakugou, on the other hand, looked less than pleased, scowling at his friend’s interruption.

“Sure am, little lady,” the redhead murmured, taking your hand to brush a kiss to your knuckles.

“Can I get you a drink?” Bakugou asked, once more vying for your attention and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Sure, I’ll take a jack and coke.”

Soon the drink was in your hand and the three of you had claimed a table. The place was packed and you had to lean in close to hear over the din of overlapping voices and the music blasting from the jukebox, but you didn’t mind.

You asked where the two had come from and introduced them to some of the locals that stopped by to chat. Once things calmed down a bit, Kirishima gestured to the mechanical bull in the center of the room with the neck of his beer bottle.

“You ever try your hand at that?” he wondered, glancing at you curiously.

“A couple times,” you replied, sipping at your drink. You’d polished off a couple and were starting to feel just the right amount of tipsy, your inhibitions lowered.

“What about you? You should try it, I wanna watch,” you exclaimed excitedly, leaning in close to him.

Kirishima’s brows rose before a determined look crossed his face and he turned to Bakugou. “Wanna see who can stay on the longest?”

“Tch, as if you even have to ask,” Bakugou snapped back, his carmine eyes flashing. “I’ll beat your time easy!” declared, leaning back in his chair to watch.

“Good luck!” you called, whistling after Kiri as he stood, the tips of his ears flushing. As he swung his leg over the back of the bull, you couldn’t help but check out his ass, and when the machine stuttered to life, starting out slow, you cheered him on enthusiastically.

Once he got the hang of it, Kirishima didn’t do too bad, throwing his arm back and leaning as the bull bucked and spun, trying to throw him from its back. He made it eight seconds before being unseated, the machine giving a violent jerk, and Eijirou rolled to the padded floor, flopping to his back amid a chorus of cheers and whistles from the bar patrons.

“Yeah, yeah, now watch how a real pro does it,” Bakugou boasted with a smirk, pushing up from the table for his turn, pausing to give his friend a hand before mounting the bull himself.

When Kirishima rejoined you, you congratulated him on his run, flashing him an encouraging grin before the two of you turned your attention back to Katsuki. The blonde made it look easy and you could tell it wasn’t his first time riding.

“Hey, y/n.”

Kirishia’s deep voice in your ear made you jump, tearing your eyes from Bakugou to look over.

“What’s up, Eij?” you asked, giving him your full attention.

“Well, I was wonderin’ if you’d like to go out sometime?”

The question took you aback, but you couldn’t say you weren’t pleased. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied quietly, wondering where he’d take you.

A loud cry from the crowd pulled your eyes back to Bakugou, who’d finally been unseated by the mechanical bull. When his time was announced, Kirishima’s face fell; Katsuki had managed to beat him by a couple seconds.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled as he returned to the table, dusting himself off, his lips quirked smugly. “How about that, looks like I won.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kiri grumbled and you rolled your eyes at the exchange.

“So, how about it, y/n? Does the winner get a kiss?” Katsuki asked hopefully, tapping his cheek with a finger.

Just then an idea came to you and a mischievous grin tugged at your lips as you rose, leaning in close to Katsuki, puckering up until at the last moment you stepped past him.

“Actually, I think I want a turn as well,” you exclaimed, turning back to shoot both men a playful look as you walked backwards toward the bull, finding Kirishima laughing uproarously while Bakugou’s expression had turned from smug to shocked.

The ash blonde recovered quickly, however, and he gave a loud whoop as you climbed atop the bull’s back, scooting forward toward the front of the bull and finding your grip.

“Ride ‘em, cowgirl! Show us how it’s done!” Kirishima called and a laugh burst from your lips as the bull began to move.

Instinctively, you rolled your hips, squeezing your legs around the bull’s sides as hard as you could as it bucked beneath you. As the bull spun and shifted, you leaned away from it, using your outstretched arm for balance, too focused on staying on to pay much attention to the boys.

Out in the crowd, Kirishima had gone slack jawed, eyes glued to you while Katsuki tried to surreptitiously adjust himself, his jeans growing tight at the way you moved, both men imagining you riding something else.

By the time you could no longer hold on, your muscles turning to water and the room spinning around you, Bakugou and Kirishima had composed themselves and hurried to help you up.

“What was my time?” you asked, your words slurring together slightly.

“Twelve seconds,” Bakugou answered, helping you to your feet and slipping his arm around your middle to keep you upright.

“You beat both of us,” Kirishima breathed, clearly impressed.

Giggling, you took a step forward and stumbled, bumping into Katsuki’s side.

“Woah there,” he murmured, his grasp on you tightening.

“Think it’s time to get you home, little lady,” Eijirou added, slinging his arm around you as well, stabilizing you further.

“Yeah, that might be wise,” you agreed, your stomach beginning to churn and your head throbbing. The last thing you wanted was to throw up all over their boots.

“I’ll get the truck and meet you at the door,” Kirishima offered, slipping from your side as soon as you were outside.

Sighing, you found yourself leaning into Katsuki’s side and he let out a soft snort. “Y’know this probably ain’t the best time, but I had fun tonight, and I’d like to take you out, just the two of us,” he offered, his arm around your side warm.

You hummed and nodded. “Sounds like fun.”

You didn’t have time to say more before Kirishima’s truck pulled up next to you and he jumped out to open the passenger door.

Soon you were comfortably sandwiched between the two, your eyelids drooping, the slow sway of the truck lulling you toward sleep. The ride back to the ranch was quiet, nothing but the soft sound of the radio to fill the silence, but you didn’t mind.

“Thank you for both being such gentlemen and helping me get home safely,” you murmured, letting Bakugou help you out of the truck once Kiri had pulled up in front of your little cabin.

“Course,” Katsuki replied gruffly and you didn’t miss the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles before he let go of your hand.

“Make sure to take somethin’ for your head and drink plenty of water,” Eijirou said, and you turned back to smile at them before opening your door.

“I will. See you in the morning,” you chirped, blowing them both a kiss before slipping inside.

“Sleep well, y/n!” they called, retreating back to the truck.

As you got ready for bed, you were already wondering what each of them were planning for their dates.

Once the boys had returned to the carriage house, however, their thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, remembering the way you’d moved atop the mechanical bull, and it would be a while yet before sleep claimed them, each needing to get those thoughts out of their systems.

——

taglist: @super-predictable98 @sad0ni0n @dinodumbass @aomi04 @babyspicytuna @tirzamisu @lavendecherry @writers-whirlwind @hisbeautifulnightmare17

#kiribaku sandwich #krbk sandwich #poly!kiribaku #poly!krbk #bakugou x reader x kirishima #bakugou katsuki x reader x kirishima eijirou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #farmhand!au #bnha x reader #joz.fic

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