#my humble boy look at him SHAKING HIS HEAD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuderiahoney · 5 months

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After All

Charles Leclerc x bestfriend!reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, tooth rotting fluff

Charles is a lot of things. He’s determined, hardworking, a bit of a self sacrificing dumbass. He’s kind, talented, humble, confident, soft. He’s your best friend, your closest confidant, the person you would trust with your life.

And, according to everyone who’s ever seen the two of you together, he’s madly in love with you.

…..

Pierre’s the first one to say it. He’s known both of you the longest, he’s one of Charles’ best friends. He sidles up next to you on a warm afternoon. You’re both on Charles’ yacht, leaning against the railing and watching as he does a backflip off the deck and into the water.

“He’s going to hurt himself,” you point out, “and Ferrari will not be happy.”

Pierre snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “He is showing off.”

You give him a look of disbelief. “For who?”

Before he can answer, you’re drawn to look at Charles again when he calls your name. You watch and wave at him, and then he lines himself up for another stupid trick dive that makes your stomach lurch. He makes a splash when he lands, sinking deeper and deeper till you can’t see him through the bubbles. Just when you start to worry, just when you feel like he’s been under too long, he resurfaces. He kicks himself to the surface, hair plastered to his forehead, laughing raucously. He’s suddenly the boy you met at 13, big dreams and big plans and a big personality to get him there.

“You,” Pierre says, jarring you out of your staring. “He is showing off for you.”

You roll your eyes and elbow your friend. “What? He is not. Why would he be trying to impress me?”

“Because he is in love with you,” Pierre states, so matter of fact you almost don’t realize what he’s saying. “Come on, it’s obvious.”

“He is not!” You laugh, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Jesus, Pierre, the fumes from those engines must really be getting to you.”

Pierre opens his mouth to speak, probably to rebut with some insane theory he’ll present as fact. He’s interrupted by Charles calling your name again. This time he’s waving you down to the back deck, eyes sparkling. He’s going to want you to jump in. You have a fear of heights, a fear of falling, a fear of deep, open water. Despite it all, you head down to meet him anyways. Charles could talk you into anything, could make even the scariest things seem easy.

“You have to hold my hand, though,” you say, when he urges you to jump in with him. “The whole way, no letting go.”

“The whole way,” he promises, knitting your fingers together.

…..

It’s a bit of fate that you end up in Suzuka for the race. You hadn’t been planning on going, but there’d been cheap flights available when you looked the week before, and suddenly you’re off to Japan. Charles is thrilled about it, always happy to have you there, even when he’s busy and barely gets to see you. He says there’s something comforting about knowing you’re in the garage or the stands.

He takes you with him to as many things as he can, including the pre race media days. The second you meet up with him after you get to Japan, he’s talking non stop about Sebastian’s Buzzin Corner project, and your heart melts at the excitement in his eyes. He’s been missing Seb lately, having a tough go of things and searching for guidance.

You watch from behind the scenes, behind the cameras, as the entire grid arrives to make pollinator hotels and decorate canvases. You smile when Sebastian spots Charles and runs over to give him a hug, and you smile even bigger when Charles follows Sebastian around like a lost puppy. Sebastian seems just as happy to be near Charles again, stopping by to check on Ferrari’s progress frequently.

Charles turns during a lull in the event, when the cameras are on another team and Sebastian is distracted, too. He waves you over, eyes bright, smile wide. You can’t help but be drawn towards him. Any time he wants you nearby, you go willingly, eagerly.

He has paint on his fingers, speckles of it on his shirt. Charles is creative, too. He doesn’t get nearly enough chances to show it, in your opinion. He’s stifled by brand deals and the public eye and overbearing management. You stand next to him, eyeing his and Carlos’ artwork with a soft smile. The pollinator hotel is filled with supplies, the roof is decorated, and Charles tells you excitedly that they’ve already had their first “guest”. He hands you a paintbrush when nobody is paying attention.

“You should add something, chéri,” he says, nudging you lightly.

You look up at him, twist your face into an unsure smile. “Am I allowed to?”

“Of course,” Sebastian says, having made his way back around to the Ferrari team. You smile at Charles’ old teammate as he pays your shoulder lightly. “It’s not exclusive, you know.”

You laugh, reaching out with the paintbrush and adding a small heart next to the stripes and stamps the guys have painted on. “A little love for the the pollinators and bugs.”

“You weren’t saying that about that spider last week,” Charles teases.

“It was in my hair,” you say through gritted teeth, looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t slander me in front of Seb.”

Carlos is giggling, watching the two of you. Sebastian is doing the same, his eyes lit up reminding you of years ago when he and Charles had been teammates. He’d joked about the two of you exhausting him, with your boundless energy and constant flip flopping between bickering and affection. You’d insisted you were the ones keeping Sebastian young.

Someone calls Charles and Carlos over for a photo op. You peruse the bee hotel while you stand next to Sebastian. There’s a lot of people’s artwork on there, but somehow you think you know which brushstrokes belong to Charles.

“I see not much has changed,” Sebastian says, nodding his head towards Charles. “He calls you darling and then teases you in the same minute.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks grow hot. “He is my best friend, both of those things are his job.”

“Ah, to be young and oblivious,” Sebastian says in a lilting tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughs, tilts his head at you. “Just that my wife was my best friend, once.”

You narrow your eyes at him. The glare has no effect if the grin on his face says anything. Sebastian is older, wiser, and Charles trusts his judgement on nearly everything, but you know he’s wrong about this. There’s no way Charles sees you as anything more than a friend. You’ve come to terms with that. You can live with that. You have to live with that.

Charles makes his way back over to the two of you, hands in his pockets. You plaster a sunny smile back on your face and try to ignore the way Sebastian is watching the two of you. Charles is telling you to paint something else, pointing out the empty space left on the canvas and the bee hotel.

He takes your hand, still wrapped around the paintbrush, in his own. He dips it in the black paint, leads you over to the wooden structure, and adds another heart.

“More love,” he says, singsongy, squeezing your hand. Behind you, Sebastian barely muffles an affectionate laugh. “More love for the bugs.”

…..

“This is my favorite song!” You yell over the booming bass.

You have a drink in your hand, your… 6th? of the night? You’re not sure, you’ve lost count. Charles keeps handing them to you every time your gets low. It’s always tequila and soda, always with two limes.

Charles laughs, shaking his head. “You have said that about every song in the past hour.”

“I mean it this time,” you say, eyes wide. You’re standing up from the table, pulling on his arm. “C’mon, we should dance, Charlie!”

He groans lightheartedly. Really, all of this should be your sign to cut yourself off. You don’t like dancing, and you rarely call him Charlie. Everyone calls him Charles, so you’d let the nickname go years ago. You’d worried it made you sound childish, made you sound like you were holding onto years past. He doesn’t budge from his spot in the booth, watching you warily.

“Amour, I don’t like this song as much as you apparently do,” he says, shaking his head. “And I like dancing even less.”

“Fine,” you say with a pout. “I will find someone else, then.”

You melt into the crowd before he can pull you back into the booth and down to earth. You’re at that pleasant stage of drunk where everything is funny and fuzzy and floaty. You spot Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, at the bar, and she needs much less convincing to join you on the dance floor. She abandons Alex with George and follows you eagerly. It’s Las Vegas, you’re here to have fun. This is fun. The two of you squeeze through the swirling mass of people till you find a good spot.

You don’t know how long it’s been when Charles finds you there- you just know you’re sweaty, a few drinks deeper, and past the point of no return. The song that’s playing now is your actual favorite song, a fact that you tell Charles when he steps in front of you, his hands on your waist to steady you.

“I know,” he says, because of course he knows. Nobody knows you better than him. “I also know you are drunk.”

“M’having a good time,” you tell him, wrapping an arm around his neck. It’s just to keep you steady, you tell yourself. “Vegas, baby!”

Charles laughs, shaking his head, but he starts to sway to the music with you. One hand stays on your hip, but the other comes around to your back and pulls you closer. You like being pressed against him, like being able to feel the warmth of him even through the fabric of your clothing. You don’t think before you spin in his grip, press your back to his front, keep your arm around his neck behind your head. Tomorrow morning, or rather, later today, you can blame it on the alcohol.

Charles wraps his arm around your waist in response, and you swear you feel his lips on the back of your neck as he pulls you in again. You’ll blame that on the alcohol too.

It’s like you blink, and then you’re standing out on the sidewalk, surrounded by the lights of the Las Vegas strip. The night air is cold, and you laugh to yourself, thinking about all the talk of a night race in the desert and the temperature.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks.

You’re surprised to find him standing next to you, and you blink at him.

“S’cold,” you say, unable to explain the rest of it. You just giggle again. “Where’s Charlie?”

Max raises his brows. “He went inside to get your jacket. You left it in the booth. Remember, five minutes ago, when you said it was cold?”

Huh. You don’t remember, but Max is probably telling the truth. He and Charles are more of friendly rivals than enemies now, despite their formative years. Max is definitely not trying to kidnap you as revenge. He has nothing to get revenge for- he won the race. Maybe he’s bitter that a Grand Prix he talked about so negatively had ended up being one of the best of the season, you suppose. Though you’re not sure that would give him a reason to kidnap you-

“I called him that once,” Max says, and you tilt your head at him. “Charlie. He didn’t like it.”

You remember. It was in Brazil, when they’d all been gathered in a garage. You’d seen it in a video. You can’t admit that, though, without admitting you watch tiktoks of your best friend, so you stay quiet on that subject.

“He thinks it’s childish,” you say with a shrug, scuffing the toe of your shoe on the ground. “I… forget, sometimes.”

You forget that Charles isn’t just your thirteen year old friend, the guy you’d never expected to even tolerate you. You can’t remember how it even happened, how you went from barely saying hi in the halls at school to dinners with his family, homework at their kitchen table. You’re not sure it matters now. What matters is keeping him a part of your life.

You’ve adapted. You’ve let pieces of him go, like childhood nicknames and any hope he’ll ever look at you the same way you look at him. Charles is larger than life, now. You’re still small. You’re still thirteen sometimes, still sitting at the table, begging Charlie to help you with your math problems.

“That’s the thing,” Max says, nudging your side lightly. “He doesn’t seem to mind when it’s you that says it.”

You frown. “Oh, he definitely minds.”

Max shrugs. “He doesn’t show it, then. Probably because he loves you.”

You nod solemnly. “I am his best friend.”

“Right,” Max laughs. “Sure. Friend.”

Charles reappears shortly after that, your jacket in hand. It turns out Max isn’t even leaving- he’d just been tasked with keeping an eye on you while Charles went back inside. He says goodbye and goes back into the club, while Charles is checking his phone, telling you the car should be there any minute. The night has gone from fuzzy to blurry, and you lean heavily on Charles’ shoulder, blinking repeatedly and trying to stay awake. He pours you into the backseat of the car, drags you out of it ten minutes later when you get to the hotel.

“You are so drunk,” he says, standing in the elevator, your head against his chest.

“I know you are but whatamI?” You slur, tugging on his jacket.

Charles just laughs. Even if he could understand you, he wouldn’t get the reference. His hand is resting on your shoulder, fingers squeezing your bare skin softly. You’d taken your jacket off as soon as you got inside, complaining about being hot. Charles had just taken it from your hands with an exasperated smile.

“I think you should sleep in my room,” he suggests when the elevator dings and the doors begin to open. “So I can keep an eye on you.”

You’re not that drunk, but you’re not going to argue. “Yeah, okay.”

When you wake up in his bed in the morning, Charles is asleep on the couch. He’s stretched out, one arm hanging off the edge, one foot on the armrest. His blanket is tangled in his limbs, and you feel guilty, suddenly. It was his night to celebrate, and he’d ended up taking care of you, ended up sacrificing his hotel bed and sleeping on the sofa. You sit up, feeling sick to your stomach, and not from the hangover.

“Lay down,” Charles says, not even opening his eyes. “S’too early. You need more sleep.”

“I should go to my room,” you whisper, and he opens one eye and looks at you warily. “That couch cannot be comfortable.”

“It’s not,” he admits, and the guilt lurches in your gut again. He’s smiling, though. “You tried to insist on sharing the bed, but you were very drunk.”

That’s not surprising. Drunk you always wants Charles close. You direct your eyes to the comforter and muster up all the courage you have left.

“I’m sober now,” you tell him. “So either we share the bed, or I go to my room. You look so uncomfortable.”

Charles hesitates for only a second. You wonder if you’ve gone too far, if you’ve crossed the line. But then he’d shifting, untangling himself from the blankets and tumbling off the couch. He crawls into the bed next to you, sighing happily as he sinks into the mattress. Seemingly almost without thinking, he reaches out, slips his arm around your waist, and hauls you against his chest. You let it happen.

There’s something sacred about the time between morning and night. The sky is a purple hue outside the hotel room window. The halls are quiet. Charles’ heart thuds in your ear, steady and beating out a soothing rhythm, and nothing about this feels out of place. It’s like this is where you’re meant to be, tucked against him, slotted together like puzzle pieces. You wrap your arm around his upper arm, and he pulls the blankets over the two of you.

“G’night, Charlie,” you mumble.

He laughs, and it’s a sweet sound. There’s no hostility behind it. “Goodnight, amour.”

…..

There’s something to be said about your inability to see something as it is until it’s staring you in the face. You’re stubborn as a mule, and maybe blind as a bat, too. It’s not till the holiday break that it all clicks into place.

Charles is sitting next to you at your kitchen counter, decorating cookies. You’ve been baking all weekend. It’s your grandmother’s recipe, now your responsibility to keep up the tradition. There are batches set aside for your family to decorate later, another set for the cookie party you’re holding with some of your friends from university. But Charles had whined and begged about wanting to decorate cookies, about wanting to be a part of the tradition, and you’d given in oh so easily.

He has a heart shaped one in his hand, a knife with red frosting in the other hand. He’s being so delicate, so particular, like it means so much to him. It’s just a cookie, you want to say to him. You hold my actual heart in your hands every day without a care, but you’re so delicate with a cookie?

Except, then, you’re thinking about it, and maybe that’s not true. Charles is brash and bold and confident, but he’s never anything other than gentle with you. He cares deeply, throws himself headfirst into things, he’s all or nothing. But when he’s around you he lets his guard down, takes the time to think. He’s cautious, heartfelt, kind. He takes his time.

“Max asked me to play padel today,” he says casually. “To make up for him missing our match.”

You laugh, though it feels a bit forced. You’re watching his hands, watching as he takes the white icing and writes something on the cookie. “Oh? You didn’t go?”

Charles shakes his head. “He wasn’t free till 11:00. I told you I’d be here at 10:30.”

You frown, blinking at him. He’s so focused on the cookie he doesn’t even notice you staring. He hasn’t spent this much time on a single cookie since he got to your apartment that morning.

“You could have come over later,” you say.

He shakes his head. “This was more important. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

It shouldn’t be the moment, is the thing. Nothing spectacular happens. It’s not like he’s made some big confession, not like anything drastic has changed. Somehow, you just know. He looks up at you, a soft smile on his face, and it’s so, so obvious. You wonder if this is what he sees when you look at him. You wonder if this is what everyone else has seen and told you about. There’s so much love in his gaze that it makes your heart skip a beat, makes your skin feel hot, makes your fingertips go numb. You set your cookie down on the table.

He holds his in his own hand, peering down at it as if he’s judging it in a competition. He turns it between his fingers, leaving a red thumbprint on the underside of it. He has icing on his fingers, all the colors of the rainbow. It’ll probably stain his skin.

“You are always more important,” he breathes, and you can’t breathe at all. “The most important.”

He turns the cookie towards you, but you already know what it’ll say. His initials and yours, in white icing on a red backdrop. He’s been saying it all along, really. The whole way. More love. I know. Somehow it has still caught you off guard, stolen the air from your lungs and the words from your lips. All this time pining after him and you had never actually considered he might be feeling it, too. But it’s there, written on the cookie, and it’s written on his face, too.

You lean in to kiss him. He tastes like frosting and feels like love, and you wonder how you didn’t see it sooner.

…..

A week later, Pierre spots the matching hickeys on yours and Charles’ necks and laughs his ass off.

“I told you,” he says, through peals of laughter, shaking his head. “You are both so blind.”

Charles wraps his arm around your waist, and you shrug. You stare up at your boyfriend, happier than you’ve ever been, the weight of his hand on your hip grounding you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, dismissing Pierre even as he continues to laugh. “We figured it out. That’s all that matters.”

Charles leans close, presses his lips to your forehead. You feel it all. The years of waiting, wondering, wishing. Pierre is congratulating the two of you and saying something about calling Carlos about a bet they’d apparently had. You can’t bring yourself to care. In the end, you suppose, Pierre deserves to gloat. All your friends do.

They were right, after all.

thanks for reading! you can check out my other fics here!

#charles Leclerc #f1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #charles Leclerc oneshot #f1 oneshot #charles Leclerc x reader #charles Leclerc x you #cl16 #honeywrites #first public fic on a blog with an Oscar icon and it’s about Charles?? oh well

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whore-ibly-hot · 4 months

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"A Servant and His King."

Yandere!Fae-King x Fae!servant x. Fem! Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, coercion, fae related hijinks, basically monster fucking, oral (fem receiving), loss of virginity, clit play, p-in-v sex, power dynamics.

(A/N): Part two to a non-smutnfic about Puck, based off of puck from 'Midsummer Nights Dream'. Can be read with or standalone.

Part one (not required to understand)

A brief gust of wind and leaves rattles the shutters of your small cottages window, not sounding out of place when mixed with the usual sounds of the forest. However, the gust turns softer as it gently brushes against the shutters, causing them to open slowly with a creak.

A pair of feet land nimbly upon the wooden dresser across the room from your bed, a shadowy figure squatting down with a grin. The figure hops down, making its way to your bed, where you sleeping form lies blissfully unaware of the intruder.

Groaning, you are soon roused from your slumber by a light pressure on your wrist, and your eyes flutter open. You gasp, seeing the being before you and trying to pull away. "

"W-who are you! Stay awa-" a finger is pressed softly to your lips, the figures face coming into view as the lean forward. Forest green eyes and a set of familiar pearly whites greet you.

"Shh! No need to fear, only Puck is here." He coos, kissing your wrist once more, pressing the soft flesh to his lips. "Sorry to frighten you, little mortal. I would never mean to upset you, but I couldn't very waltz in through the entrance to your humble abode, especially given your mother's feelings about my kind." He lays his lithe body across yours, head on your chest as he looks at you with glee.

"Why are you here, Puck? It's late, I must rest." You say, though you don't resist the fae boys touching. "Sleep is important for humans."

He scoffs. "I know, but I have something more important than your human need for sleep. My king, Oberon, leader of the seelie court wishes to meet you." He pulls you up by your shoulders, a hand fixing your nightgown which begins to slip from your shoulder.

"T-the king?" You're just a human woman, a peasant. You've never even met a human noble, much less a faery king. "Why? Puck, I'm not, I can't! Now? I'm not dressed properly, I'm a human, I-"

Once again, a finger is placed against your lips. Invading your space as per usual, Pucks forehead is pressed against your forehead, nose to nose. "Shush, little mortal. Please, the king loves me. I am his jester-servant, his beloved Puck! We've shared many a-" he chuckles. "Amourous night together. He knows if your good enough for me, then your good enough to meet him. Don't discredit yourself, you are so much more than some mortal maid I take in the woods for a night of passion." He makes her sit up, and tries to slip her out of the bed. "He'll love you, my sweet. It's only proper I introduce my new beloved friend to my closest companion, ruler, and my king." You allow him to pull you out of your bed, and into his lanky form.

"Mmph, Puck. I can walk." You groan, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He tsks with his tongue, and shakes his head.

"No, no, no. Don't whine, don't go away. Be good. It's a long stroll all the way to the spring we're going to, just relax." He cackles. "You humans are so indecisive. Just a moment ago you were whining, 'Puck, no. It's too late, I'm a human, I need my sleep.', now you won't let me carry your frail, tired self to see the king. Make up your mind."

You roll your eyes, but suppose he has a point, and allow yourself to melt into his warm embrace, shoulders flush against his pecs.

As he slips back through the window and dances through the glen, weaving through trees and brush like a gust of cool night air, he soon arrives upon a clearing. Smooth rock reflect moonlight, as the water resting atop them comes from the babbling freshwater spring that rests at the edge of the rocks. A figure, imposing and much more muscular than Puck's is sat on one of the rocks, admiring the water.

Puck gently sets you down with nimble hands, kissing your ear lightly. This causes you to squeak and push him off.

"Stop it, Puck! I-im about to meet a king and your acting like we're lovers! Like your an enamored schoolboy!" You exclaim, and his hands only wrap around your waist from behind, playing with the cloth there.

"And here I thought we were lovers..." He feigns a sad face and a pout, before jolting forward and taking you with him by the waist. "My king!" He yells.

The imposing figure looks over, causing you to freeze, mind not really in synch with body as Puck drags you forward. The king is truly a thing of beauty, rugged and piercing as if he were carved, not from stone, but from the wood that made up the forest which he called his domain. He wears a fur pelt around his waist, covering his only upper thigh and not leaving much to the imagination. His is decidedly hairy, and though beautiful is as rugged as a human man of the woods is expected to be. He has dark curls of hair not unsimilar to Puck's, but not as long. His eyes are a deep brown.

"Ah, Puck, my fair servant friend. I was almost afraid you had planned to trick me, having not shown yet." The king muses, legs spread casually and a hand resting against his chin.

Puck gasps, hand to his chest as if hurt. "Never, my liege. Well, at least not to you." Puck coos, sitting on the rock and curling up to the man's calve. The king runs his hands through the curls of the fae man, and you are taken aback by the sensuality of their interaction.

The king looks up. "And you, little mortal, must be my Pucks new favorite thing, hmm?" He asks, head tilted. You nod nervously as the man waves you closer. You bow, and he grins. "Good, good. I assume she knows who I am then? I am King Oberon, of this enchanted woods and over all of the seelie court. Though, my servant here told me you knew little to nothing of our people when asked you about us, so I doubt you'd know what the seelie court is."

You shake your head. "No, sir. All I know-" you glance at Puck, who is practically purring at his kings touch. "All I know is what Puck has told me. That you are powerful, and to be respected."

Oberon grins at this. "That is all you need know. Come here, allow a king to gaze upon you." His hands begin to wander, cupping your face. His large fingers prod your plump lips, your cheeks, and tilts your chin downwards to look at him from where he is sat. Then, the hand is on your shoulder, playing with the straps of your upper garment, then at your chest. This sudden touch in such an intimate place causes you to jolt back. Oberon raises a brow.

"I'm sorry, sir. That is, that is just a very intimate place for humans. It's for sensual matters, when between two adults." You try to explain. Puck sighs, leaning his head on Oberons knee while the king chuckles.

"I am aware. It is intimate and sensual for fae too. That is why you were being touched there." He says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Now, you are only more confused.

"Well, intimacy of those matters between humans happens between a-a married couple, and even then, it should not be openly discussed. A woman like myself couldn't, shouldn't ever bee with a stranger like that, not even a suitor before marriage!"

"I have heard humans are... less indulgent in the passions of life than fae. All those awful, boring rules. And yet you kill your leaders and revolt because your miserable? Perhaps. Eing unable to express those urges is why." He laughs, and Puck joins in. He sense your confusion and continues. "Fae do not believing in brief enjoyment and indulgence. We live life to the fullest. Our liquor is stronger yet we drink more, our food is richer, yet we all eat like kings. And most of all, we indulge in the passions of the flesh with each other more than your little mind could take. I think if you had the opportunity, you'd see it was the best way to live." He muses.

To your suprise, he suddenly moves Puck up from his calve to his lap, holding the thin man by the waist as Puck grins wickedly. "You see, me and my servant here are close, emotionally and physically. We have enjoyed many a night of passion, without the watchful eye of my queen, of course." There is some bitterness in Oberon's tone at the mention of his queen.

"You... you indulge in passion with those, of the same gender as you, o-often?" You ask. It is not wrong, you are just so suprised and curious. You are not even supposed to think about a man pleasing a woman, let alone a man and another man. It is such a foreign idea.

"Mhmm. Being a king is hard for his majesty, and Puck... I, am happy to help him with his desires. My king cares for me, and I care for him." Puck says, before gasping and cutting off. You blush, seeing Oberons hand has slipped below Pucks leafy loincloth, hand stroking Puck manhood. He focuses only on the tip for now.

"I am suprised seeing as you are so shocked by how touchy and sensual fae are, seeing as you bedded my dear servant." Oberon says, and you immediately shake your head.

"No! I've never, me and Puck did nothing together. We drank a little, but he took me home." You exclaim, and look st Ouck for answers. He's too busy letting out soft whimpers and moans as Oberon moves his hand the full length of Pucks cock, paying attention to his bulbous tip.

"Is this true, Puck? I find it hard to believe, my servant can't keep his hands to himself. I suppose this makes you seem even more special to me, that my Puck would wish to see you again so desperately, and rave about you to me even if he had not bedded you yet. That begs the question though..." He leans in to Puck's ear. "Why did you lie to your king?"

Puck groans, brows furrowing. "M' sorry, your majesty! I knew you were so busy, and if I told you I had found a mortal capable of giving such incredible pleasure, you'd be more likely to come and see what a treasure I had found." He stammers. The king shakes his head, slowing his movements on Puck's cock.

"You know better than to lie to a king with a temper, Puck."

Puck cries out, bucking his hips and trying to chase that friction against his kings rough hands. "N-no sir! Trust me, I know if she'd just indulge, the mortal would be wonderful! She... she could be our mortal, not just mine! Please sir, I'll be good, she'll be good, don't stop." He begs.

Oberon sighs, still frowning in Pucks direction but intrigued nonetheless. "Alright, mortal girl. I yell you, if you would only let go, indulge just a bit in the pleasures of the fae, you would live a better life overall. And, should you please a king of the woods, perhaps your... what is it your mother does? Herbs? Perhaps they would see a better yield. An enchantment perhaps?" He offers.

You gulp, body hot with both arousal at the sight before you and anxiety. "I couldn't. What would the people in town think, I-I would be outcast!"

"Who would know? Even if someone were to find out, no one would believe a quiet gardeners daughter slept with a wicked spirit." The king teases, tongue poking out from between his lips slightly. He pulls you to him, and you offer no resistance. "For an untouched maiden, I assure you there is no one better to introduce you to a world of pleasure than the king, and his most loyal servant."

As he says this, the moaning Puck latches his lips onto your neck, continuing to moan as he sucks the soft flesh. You gasp.

"Oh, oh, gods." You squeak, the sensitive skin of your nape never having been touched, much less kissed in such a way.

"No gods, here, mortal. No angels or demons, only fae. Only the spirits of nature." He leans into your ear, kissing the shell. "Only your king."

Soon, a rough hand gets your skirt pooled around your knees, kneading the fat of your thigh and preparing to spread your legs and allow the fae king and his srmervant a view of the untouched treasure that lies there. You shiver as the cold air brushes across your stomach, you've never felt so exposed.

"See, highness? I told you, she's the perfect, pretty little mortal. Tease her, please? For me? I want to see her face as she experiences pleasure for the first time." Puck begs.

Oberon raises a brow and the request. "Such demands from a liar who has already been granted mercy, and is still being pleasure bu the hands of a king." He pulls his hand from Ouck's cock, causing tears to well in the edged faes eyes, having been denied his release.

"Majesty-"

"Enough. I will allow you to tease and prep the maiden, so she may except you king. Before you say anything, be grateful I don't only allow you to watch, or send you home." Puck whines, but grins a little inside. He knows the king enjoys his presence to much to remove him from this sensual scene.

Oberons large hands keep your shoulders flat against the warm stones of the spring, while Puck, still hard beneath his tented loincloth, crawls unceremoniously up between your thighs.

"What are you doing, Puck?" You whisper out softly, looking into his dazzling green eyes. He smiles warmly, pressing his cheek to one of your thighs.

"I assure you, maiden, my wicked tongue is not only good for japes and jabs." He coos. You are still confused at what he could mean, until the two thin fingers parting your folds are replaced with a hot, wet muscle. Puck licks a stripe teasingly up your center, savoring the flavour but eyes never leaving your face.

Oberon smiles down as he watches your face contort and wrinkle at the new sensation.

"Puck, y-your majesty, what is- oh, what is he doing?" You ask, trying to form a coherent sentence at the odd feeling of pressure and friction against both your clit and your entrance as Puck explores your folds.

"It's called cunnilingus, maiden. Fae have many ways to pleasure each other, but many enjoys the feel of one's mouth on their most intimate areas." He chuckles as he watches Puck tasting you curiously. "Sometimes, I find filling his mouth is the only way to quiet him." Puck giggles, and the vibrations make your legs quake.

Soon, the muscle invades your entrance, as Puck is now groaning almost as much as you. It's a gentle stretch, but both Ouck and Oberon know it will be necessary for what the king is to do later. Your aroused and needy clit is not forgotten by the fae pleasuring you, as a free hand comes to tweak it gently. The feeling is overwhelming, and soon, that knot inside you snaps, and you feel a high you've never known. It feels as though currents, waves run through your body as your maidenhood spasms around Pucks tongue.

He removes it, but continues to lap at your spent clit, tasting the juices of your climax. Oberon smiles.

"Was he good, maiden? Did you first touch by a man satisfy?" He asks. You can only weakly nod. "Ah, answer, maiden. Your being addressed by a royal."

"It was... it was very good, m-majesty." You gasp out. You look away at the sheer lewdness of the sight and Oberon crashes his lips to Pucks so that he may taste you on his servants lips.

"She was a divine nectar, my liege." Puck groans, pulling away from the kiss and now trading spots with his king. Now Puck lays by your shoulders, playing with your locks and kissing your neck and jawline while Oberon moves into place.

His chisled body places itself atop you, his sheer size dwarfing you and removing the moonlight from your body, casting a large shadow. You gulp.

"I... I've never done-" he chuckles, cutting you off.

"I'm aware, mortal. All that talk of purity led me to that conclusion. But, you won't be that innocent for long. I will be gentle, but it will hurt at first when you accept me into your sweet cunt. It's all part of the process."

You tense a little at the feeling of something hard, much more rigid than Pucks limp tongue, prodding at your entrance and folds.

"M' scared." You admit. This seems to soften the sensual yet cold king, and he sighs. Even Puck gives him a sad, wide eyes look. He leans down.

"Don't worry, mortal. I will be as gentle as any man has been with a woman. My Puck was never one to be nervous, but I have had lovers in the past who were. I will take care of you." He says.

Puck holds your hand and nuzzles his cheek to yours to provide a semblance of comfort. "It's true. The king is a fair and gentle lover when he wants to be. Don't worry, my friend." He assures.

Oberon strokes your thighs to relax soon, and soon the tip enters your weeping slit. You whine, the intrusion burns a little, especially as he adds a few inches every so often. But, he is slow, and talks you through it.

"Shh, it's alright. Your taking me so well, especially since I am endowed with more than some. Such a good mortal girl, it will feel good once you've stretched to accommodate a fae's cock." He coos.

As he begins to gently thrust, the slightly pain gives way to a burning pleasure. You whimper, his thrusts rocking your ads back against the stone of the spring. His large, curved tip is hitting the right spots, cervix getting pounded by the large man of the forest.

"O-oh, shit! Oberon, please- please, m-more! I need all, all of you in me!" You cry, and he chuckles.

"That's your womb speaking. This is your first time, you couldn't possibly accommodate all of me. But I will give you what I think, ugh, what I think you can take." He thursts become rhythmic, rolling in and out of your stretched tunnel, as Puck holds you steady and plays gently with your chest.

Oberon humps against you a few more times, moaning at Pucks encouragement. "She is so close, sire. I can tell, she's all tense and red, come on! Give it to her, let her take you. Please." It's clear Puck is still needy from not having gotten his release earlier. Still, he seems satisfied watching the king fuck his newest treasure.

"Mortal, mortal. You squeeze like a vice, such a warm, needy cunt. You needed this, to feel such pleasure, didn't you? Needed a cock to fill this cunt?" He moans. "It was fate, wasn't it, Puck? Finding this maiden, all alone. It was fate for you to be brought to us." Puck nods as his master continues.

"Your majesty, I'm gonna- its happening again." You cry, and his pace doesn't slow.

"I know, I know. I'm, fuck-" one last thrust sends the king over the edge. He groans, feeling your tunnel convulse around him as his thick white cum fills you. Puck plants quick, overwhelming kisses across your face as you climax, secretly wondering what you would look like if you bore the king's child.

Soon, Oberon pulls out, and you lay there, trembling and on the verge of sleep. Puck leans down and plants a final kiss upon your lips. He smiles.

"Sleep, little mortal. It's okay, you are safe with me and my king. I'll return you to your bed, pretty one." He strokes your hair softly, until your tired eyes close and stay closes. He sighs, and looks at the king. It's clear he could go for a fee more rounds.

"Majesty, our poor mortal needed this so badly, her body was on fire for it. We can't... we can't well let her go back to her little cottage, all alone in the dangerous wood with no one to please her. She's trusting, and she broke all the rules of interacting with fae so quickly, what if a worse one came along and-"

"Puck!" Oberon exclaims, making the imp jolt and go silent. Oberon sighs. "I am not a fool. I know how much this unique mortal has captivated the two of us. You need not convince me to take her back to my palace. As fair as Titania will be concerned, she is a plaything for you, correct? I will not have her cursing this treasure." Oberons muscular arms cradle your slumbering form.

"Majesty, I know of your endurance. Perhaps when we get back to the palace, while our maiden rests, I may please you." Puck asks, eyes wide and innocent.

Oberon scoffs. "All this acting because I didn't allow you to finish, Puck?" Oberon says, seeing through Pucks facade of goodwill and selflessness. Puck pouts.

"Isn't it tempting, though?"

"Perhaps."

#yandere #yandere oc #tw.yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere content #tw.dark content #x reader #yandere boy #yandere fae #yandere king #oc Puck #oc Oberon #tw.dubcon #yandere smut #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #oc x reader

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tinyluvs · 9 months

Note

can i humbly request like…praise headcanons for spencer? and you can take that as his receiving praise or giving it thank you in advance if you do this ily

you definitely can 🤭 we’ll do a bit of both 👀 *mdni!!*

he realises far too fast what it does to you, eyebrows rising when you whine a little, fingers pressing into any part of his body you can grab onto the fastest

"oh, you like that huh?" and "like hearing how good you are for me?"

he's all smirky and smug when heat rushes over your cheeks and you know then, you're completely fucked

"so fucking pretty with your mouth so full of me," with his thumb stroking over your cheek, pushing in slightly so he can feel himself

he fucks you in front of mirrors !!! forcing you to look at yourself

"look at you," all mumbled against your shoulder, "so, so perfect, all for me" with a slow but very deep thrust that has you crying out

when you ride him he can't help himself, watching the way you fuck yourself on him, desperate for it, all whimpers and gentle moans

"taking me so well aren't you, angel?" paired with sickeningly slow circles dragging over your clit, "no one else could take all of me this well, you were made just for me"

he also realises how much quicker you come when he just rambles

"come baby, you deserve it, did so well for me" or "you're gonna take it all aren't you baby?" and when you nod, "i know sweetheart, you always do, my good girl"

spencer didn't think he would like it but then he's fucking you so good and before you can stop yourself you're moaning loudly, "fuck spence, that feels so good, you feel so good"

he nearly comes there and then, whimpering against your neck so he doesn't see the way your eyes widen when you catch on

"you look incredible, holy shit," when he's between your thighs, chin and beard completely soaked with you, his eyes soft and fucked out

he touches you so well, fingers sliding into you with skill you've never experienced before, "right there, ohmygod spence, you're gonna make me come too fast"

sometimes it feels like he's in your stomach he’s fucking you so deep, punching every breath out of your chest when he thrusts forward, hips hitting the backs of your thighs

"god, you're fucking big, feel so full" as your eyes roll and your thighs start to shake slightly

and when he comes? again you couldn't stop yourself, panting out a quiet, "good boy," as your head rolls back onto the pillow only to shoot back up when he grunts through gritted teeth and comes for a second time

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #❥ spencer reid headcanons #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ spencer reid #❥ my spencer works

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malleleothreesome · 5 months

Text

Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand.

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property.

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic?

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater.

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous.

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air.

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this.

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest.

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined.

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor.

Fellow feels his pants tighten.

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will.

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show.

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks.

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful.

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream.

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes.

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates.

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront.

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll."

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours."

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

#Fellow Honest #Fellow Honest Smut #Twisted Wonderland Smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #twst fellow honest x reader smut #twst fellow honest smut #ferro honest #ferro honest smut #twst fellow #twst ferro #fellow honest x reader #ferro honest x reader #twisted wonderland fellow honest #stage in playful land #my writing

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augustinewrites · 1 month

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summary: realizing you've fallen for someone is hard. even more so when that person is miya atsumu.

part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab brought to you by augustinewrites and seiwas!) (a month and a half late but here nonetheless!) ps @seiwas ur my one true valentine

you’d been planning to leave your boss’ party at a sensible 9pm.

but one drink had turned into two, two had turned into three, then four. you’re just about to down a shot with osamu when his brother appears, resting an arm around his shoulders.

atsumu is known first as osamu’s twin, and onigiri-miya’s biggest supporter second (third is a major league volleyball player, but you have to keep him humble). he orders a lot of food a lot of the time, always tipping spectacularly. during his team’s off season, he’s there from opening till closing, doing his best to bus tables and take orders.

he’s been off for a few days, so you’d been seeing a lot of him lately. not that you really minded because, well–

atsumu is hot.

you’ve known this for a while but refused to linger on the fact. you’ve done your best to lock it within the furthest recesses of your mind and throw away the key because he’s your boss’ brother. mixing business with pleasure has never been a smart move.

the blond holds up his own drink and flashes you a charming grin, eyes darting up and down your figure appreciatively. you can see the gears turning in his head as he tries to find the perfect thing to say.

“what are we toasting to?” you ask, clearing your throat to mask the sudden bout of insecurity you’re feeling.

“to good fortune, good health–”

“and good company,” atsumu adds, winking before the three of you tip your glasses back, liquor sliding down your throat.

five drinks just turned into an incredibly questionable decision. the dyed blonde, volleyball playing type.

you hadn’t meant for it to happen, you swear. you hadn't meant to let him tug you into his brother’s (your boss’) bedroom and you hadn’t meant to kiss him.

but it'd all happened so swift, so laughably cinematic. pressing up against a closed door as he fumbled for the handle. you’d shared messy, rushed kisses as hands slipped underneath clothes, but atsumu’s lips were warm and you liked how they moved against your own.

“wait, wait–” you mumbled, pulling away for a second to look at him. “are we really going to–” you gesture between you.

atsumu gently nipped at your throat, humming. “why shouldn’t we?”

you shouldn’t because he’s your boss’ brother and your seasonal coworker. while not outright banned in onigiri miya’s code of conduct, workplace relationships certainly weren't wise.

“i'm just saying,” he murmurs, the thumb brushing the top of your thigh making you squirm. “if you want to, i'm game. we don't have to make a big deal out of it.”

your nose scrunches at what he’s implying. rational, sober you who hadn't just been kissed dizzy wouldn't even consider this type of illicit exchange. whatever version you were tonight though…

“wouldn’t it be weird? after, i mean.”

“not unless we make it weird,” he says, glancing up at you through unfairly long lashes. “and…”

surprise melts into curiosity as you wait to hear what he has to say, but he trails off. he quickly tries to dismiss it with a shake of his head before moving in to kiss you again.

but you lean back and fix him with an expectant look. “no. what were you going say?”

his cheeks flush before he lets his head drop against your shoulder, mumbling something that sounds like you’re really hot under his breath.

_____

in theory, no-strings sex is supposed to be simple, mechanical fun.

and at first, no-strings sex with atsumu is.

he’s good in bed, unsurprisingly. he puts his money where his annoyingly talented mouth is and leaves you trembling atop your bed sheets every time. he’s eager to learn you, making each encounter a little better than the last.

outside of sex, you don’t really see much of him. pro athletes rarely get any down time. when he’s not at practice he’s at the gym and vice versa. when he’s not at either, he’s out of town for a game.

but still somehow, your relationship evolves (slowly at first, then suddenly at once as things often do).

you’d spent a lot of time together leading up to new year’s. grabbing a snack across the street during lunch breaks. christmas shopping together on the weekends. coffee dates on lazy, snowy evenings. you still go home with him, but it’s no longer accompanied by the blur of alcohol or the burn of desire.

it’s different now. you still want him, but not just because he’s got wicked abs.

you want him because he always remembers your coffee order.

you’re treading a dangerous path. no-strings sex only works if there’s no connection other than physical.

(which is why no-strings sex with atsumu changes on new year’s eve.)

tonight is different. he’s different.

tonight, atsumu kisses your shoulder. your jaw. the tip of your nose. soft words of praise are whispered against your skin instead rather than grunts of pleasure in your ear.

you love the feel of his hands on your waist. his face beneath your fingertips. it’s a lot. it’s so much. it’s–

“i love you,” he groans, curling his fingers into the hair on the back of your head as he noses at your neck.

______

the lunch rush at onigiri miya has just started to slow down, so and osamu are in the back office. you’re both hunched over a laptop updating the inventory when atsumu appears in the doorway. he slings a hand towel over his shoulder, casting a brief, hopeful look in your direction.

you stare hard at the screen as osamu glances between you both.

“dishes are mostly done,” the blond says. “i'm gonna head home.”

(another hopeful look.)

“yeah,” osamu nods, catching the apron that’s tossed over to him. “feel free to grab something on your way out.”

it’s then that you finally steal a quick glance at him, just in time to see his kicked-puppy look. it’s almost enough to waver your resolve, tugging in your heartstrings just enough before you turn away.

“trouble in paradise?” your boss asks once his brother is gone.

“he’s the trouble.” you sigh. “obviously i’m the paradise.”

“i’ll say. something happen between you two?”

you close the laptop, casting him a warning glance. “don’t you have onigiri to make?”

“yeah,” he shrugs. “but the scrub’s been moping around for weeks. not to mention he’s been playing ‘i wanna know what love is’ every time i get in a car with him.”

“sounds like a quarter-life crisis.”

osamu hums thoughtfully. “could be. or maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’ve been sleeping together and pretending everyone doesn’t already know you’re in love too.”

leave it to your boss to drop truth bombs in the middle of the work week.

“so what if he said he loved me?” you ask, throwing your hands up. “it wasn't– it wasn't like i love you i love you. it was…middle of sex i love you. he didn't mean it.”

osamu stared at you, as if trying to figure out if you were serious. “do you think he chooses to come here in his down time and work for free washing dishes? he comes here for you. the idiot obviously loves you. you’re really gonna sit here and tell me you don't love him too?”

you supposed…you supposed this wasn't your typical friends with benefits arrangements. late nights weren't just spent tangled up in each others bedsheets. they were spent drinking tea on the balcony of your apartment. they were spent giggling and cuddling on the couch, not really watching sitcom reruns all night long.

you supposed that somewhere along the line, the scale between love and friendship had tipped out of balance.

maybe…maybe that didn’t have to be a bad thing.

dividers by @/enchanthings! please check out their adorable work!

#atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #hq fluff #hq x reader #how to be your lover boy collab #enchanthings

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hugsandharrystyles · 14 days

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The Chase

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SUMMARY: Harry is obsessed with you (or your pussy).

Harry Styles would not stop following you.

You both had hooked up at a frat party two weeks ago in a dingy bathroom, and ever since, he's been searching for you everywhere.

Somehow, he's outside of all your classes, waiting for you so that he could try and woo you. His persuasions were overlooked because you were not in the mood for anything any college frat boy was trying to pull.

You had only come to this party because your friend had dragged you along with the promise of alcohol.

You seriously needed to get wasted and perhaps make out with a cute boy, but it was proving hard to do because of the chase you were involved in. As soon as you had walked in the door, you were on the run from Harry.

Right now, you were in the crowded kitchen, the room was glowing red from the solo cups taped on the lights, and it was definitely setting the mood for the horny college students.

You were filling your cup when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist in a secure hold.

"Baby, please," You heard begging in your ear, and then his crotch was grinding into your ass.

"Harry-" You begin, but you were cut off by the rolling of his hips again. "You realize how pathetic you are?" You said while laughing. He whined in your ear and squeezed you harder.

"Stop running from me," He counters. "Just come with me outside for bit, hm?" He asks.

"Harry-"

"Please," He begs.

"Fine," You huff and grab his hand to start walking outside. Harry has a shy, yet smug smile on his face as you drag him out of the house. People look and furrow their eyebrows at the two of you, but Harry does not care. He's whipped, and he knows it.

"Over here," He says and points to a lounge chair close to the bonfire. There's a decent amount of people around but not nearly as bad as inside. He sits down first and drags you to sit on his lap.

"Harry- Jesus," You sigh and adjust yourself. He buries his face in your neck and inhales you in.

"I've missed you," He breathes.

"Harry, we had one mediocre hook-up in a trashy frat bathroom," You remind him.

"Mediocre?!" That had gotten his attention. He adjusts you to where he can see your face better. "That was the best sex of my life," He tells you.

"Well, that's sad," You inform him, and he has to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"What in the hell are you talking about? I made you cum," He reminds you, but your face sours. "Didn't I?" You shake your head and suppress the smile that wants to appear on your face from this boy getting humbled. "But- But you told me you came," He questions you.

"Yeah, so I could get out of there," You couldn't hold back the small chuckle that escapes you that time. "Harry, don't get me wrong, you aren't bad and definitely are the biggest I've ever been with, but maybe you need to work on your stamina," You explain and run your fingers through his hair because of his pitiful face.

"Well, it's not my fault you have this magical pussy!" He says a bit too loud. Some people look over with incredulous looks on their faces, and you punch his shoulder. "Couldn't help it when you're so wet, tight, and fucking warm- Oh, God," He groans as if remembering. His nose is back in your neck and arms around your body, squeezing once again. "Smell so good and so soft too," He says as he squeezes the extra plush on your body, something you're usually insecure about but feel super confident with the way this boy is drooling for you.

"You've gone mad," You resort to.

"I don't care," He rebuts. You roll your eyes and pat his back.

"Ay, Styles! Look at you fuckin' whipped," You hear one of his annoying frat brothers call out to the two of you.

"And fucking what about it?" He snaps back, and you see the arrogant meathead cower down in his seat.

"Harry, maybe we should-"

"Go to my room, so I can actually take care of you?" He offers.

"I'll give you one more shot," You sigh, and his head perks up like he didn't expect you to say that.

"Actually?" He says and is about to jump to his feet.

"My clock is ticking," You sigh, and suddenly, you're being thrown over his shoulder, and he's running into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. Hoots, hollers, and whistles are thrown to both of you, but neither of you are paying attention to it. You're immediately thrown on the bed when you get into his room. Harry had locked the door, so no one will be interrupting the two of you.

"I'm going to eat you out," he says breathlessly. "Should punish me for how rude I was to you last time. Didn't eat you out or make you cum- fuck, I'm sorry," He pants and rips your skirt and shoes off your body. His mouth is about to press against your puffy pussy through your underwear when you stop him.

"Wait," you say and hold his hair to stop him.

"What?" He whines and dramatically drops his face into the bed.

"You're right," you tell him and yank on his hair to get his attention.

"About what, baby?" He whines in impatience.

"You should be punished," You agree and sit up, pulling your body away from him. His jaw drops and his face is like you've just stabbed him.

"Are you- are you serious?" He asks and starts to inch his way closer to you.

"I mean, you're the one who said it. I'll be nice and still have sex with you, but I have one rule," you tell him and press your foot against his chest to keep him away.

"Anything. Anything at all- I swear," He assures you, and you smile.

"You're not allowed to touch me," you say, and he scoffs.

"You can't be serious," He pants.

"It's this or nothing," you say and start to get up from the bed.

"No, no, please, I'll do it. I'll do it," He promises.

"You're pathetic," you laugh, and he glares at you. "Wipe that look off your face," You scold him, voice surprisingly dominating, and he immediately does. It's hilarious the power you seem to have over this arrogant frat boy. "Sit against the headboard," you tell him, and he doesn't think twice before doing what you say. You get up and start rummaging through his closet.

"What- what are you doing?" He asks, trying to stay still in his spot, but his curiosity is getting the best of him. Once you have what you were looking for, you turn and approach him, your hands hiding the object behind your back.

"Get up," You command, and he jumps off the bed. "Take your clothes off," you say further. He rips everything off besides his boxers. "I didn't say stop, big boy," you tell him, and he blushes. He sheepishly pulls down his underwear and fights the urge to cover himself. Your smirk deepens as you gaze over his body. "On the bed," You command, and as he leans himself against the headboard, you rid yourself of the rest of your own clothes. Harry's eyes cloud over as his eyes take you in. You're truly the most enthralling woman he's ever met.

"Thank you," He whispers as you straddle his lap, his hands gently rest on your plushy thighs. You almost feel bad for what you are about to do, but your horniness brings you out of it.

"Very sweet," you say and place a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He moans lightly and tries to turn his head to fully capture your lips, but you move away at the perfect time. You take his hands in yours and tie them together with the tie you found in his closet. His eyes widen and his cheeks flush even deeper. "This okay?" You ask and run your fingers through his hair.

"Y-Yes. Never done something like this before, but it's v-very okay," He assures you and tips his head back when you start kissing at the skin on his neck. His hands that are tied together twitch on his stomach and reach to where his dick lays, playing with himself for some much-needed stimulation. His moans get louder, and he feels cum drip from his thick pink tip.

"The fuck are you doing?" You suddenly ask, straightening yourself in time to see Harry playing with himself.

"I'm- I'm sorry. It's just- I'm really fucking horny, and it hurts," He tries to explain but you roll your eyes and scoff.

"You know, this is why I haven't let you fuck me again. Fuckin' selfish," You mock, and he shakes his head.

"No- No, I'm not. Please," He whines, his hand straining against the tie. "Don't go, please," He begs. You stare down at him intensely, and he has no choice but to cower under your glare. Out of nowhere, you suddenly drop yourself down onto his length, rubbing and sliding against where it lays against his stomach. "Oh!" He gasps as he feels your hot wet pussy slide over him.

"I'm going to take what I want from you," You decide and place your hands against his chest to get a better form. Your tight hole begins to catch itself on his tip when you push down on him, and you see Harry biting his lip so hard you think it might bleed. You continue sliding your pussy over him until his dick is twitching and leaking with cum.

"You got to stop if you don't want me to cum," he says, his voice strained and tight.

"You need to work on your stamina," you remind him and grab his cock, positioning him with your tight entrance.

"Oh, God- Oh, God," He chants as you slide his tip in. His hips stagger, making him slide in a bit deeper, so you press on his stomach to keep him down.

"Easy," You command, and he looks as if he could cry. You fuck yourself on the tip of his cock, getting your entrance to spread, but he's just so fucking big. You look down at him, and he has that same fucked out expression on his face. "Don't you fucking dare," you say and begin to insert more of him into you.

"Then fucking stop!" He whines. He almost cries when he feels your fingers squish into his cheeks, making him look into your eyes.

"You're not making the fucking rules here, frat boy. I told you if I was going to do this again, it was going to be by my terms, not yours, so shut the fuck up and stay still," You command, and you see tears gather in his eyes. You roll your eyes and slide down on him even further, about halfway in now. He chokes on a sob of pleasure and strains his fists in his lap.

"I'm sorry," he says before you feel his hips buck up into yours and his heavy load spurting into your pussy. The sensation almost makes you cum, but you push it away so you can see his pretty face as he orgasms. His body is trembling, and it feels like his high lasts forever. He feels you untie his wrists, and he subconsciously flexes them out of their stiff position. His breathing is rapid as he comes down, and a smile is graced across his lips until he feels you start bouncing on his sensitive cock again. "Oh, fuck! What are you doing-"

"I didn't come, asshole," You spit and grind yourself on his hardening dick.

"I'm too s-sensitive," He slurs, his hips tensing away and his hands coming up to grab your plushy hips. His mouth his dropped, and his head falls back. "I might be in love with you," He gasps, and you laugh.

"Shut up," You giggle, but you are cut off when his hips thrust up into you and his fingers come down to play with your clit. "Fuck, your dick is too good," You moan and don't have time to react before you're shoved onto your back, Harry above you. His hands push your thighs to your chest, and his hips piston into your squelching cunt. "Oh!" You gasp and suddenly feel your own orgasm starting to arrive.

"Cum for me, please cum on my dick," He begs and brings one hand to your mouth to pry it open before spitting directly into your mouth. "Swallow," He whispers. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he pounds into your pussy like an animal.

"I'm gonna fucking cum," You almost scream and start to shake.

"I'm filling your pussy again," Harry moans and grounds himself into you, basically sitting on you and filling you with all of his fat cock. Your hand instinctually reaches out and pushes at his toned stomach, but the weight of him, and the feeling of him deep inside your body only makes your orgasm so much better.

"So deep," You whisper and squirm.

"Take it, take it," he almost begs as he cums, his own orgasm shooting inside of you and sticking you two together. You're both shaking at the intensity of your orgasms.

Sounds of panting fill the room as you both settle. Harry flops down onto your chest, and you reach around to rub at his back, very well-aware of his half-hard dick still deep inside you.

"You're hard already?" You ask.

"Wanna go again?"

#harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harrystyles #one direction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot

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norrisleclercf1 · 8 months

Text

Lando's Replacement

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Rating: G

Words: 765

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Could you do a mini lando new part where Aiden starts karting and lando is nervous about it thanks love your writing

Warnings: None, just fluff

Mini Lando Series

A/N: Aiden is 8, Caleb is 5 and Daniel is 3

"I'm not built for this stress, Y/n," Lando whispers, staring at your son Aiden. You can't help but roll your eyes at your husband. After all the years he spent giving you stress, he's the one who can't handle it? Drama queen.

"Really? Now you know how I've felt for the past 15 years." Lando grimaces as Aiden moves around his new kart, bumping his shoulder with yours, ensuring everything is in order. "Daddy? How do I start it?" Lando gives a wobbly smile to his little boy. Except he's not so little anymore.

At 8 years old, Aiden has fallen in love with karting and has spoken about following in his father's footsteps. "Let me show you." Lando straddles the kart and turns the ignition. The kart rumbles and then sputters to life. "Cool!" Aiden yells, not even waiting for Lando to get out of the way before he pops himself into the seat.

"Mommy, look!" Aiden can't hide his excitement while Lando looks down at the kart with horror. "Can't believe my Dad and Mum allowed me to do this." He whispers, grabbing Aiden's own crash helmet. "Lando, he's going to be fine. All he's doing is learning how to drive it, not racing." Covering your husband's shaky hand.

Lando has always been protective, especially of Aiden. After all the trouble you two went to get pregnant, it was hard on Lando to see his firstborn become a person and one that wanted to join karting. "He's safe. You had McLaren build his helmet and the kart. Plus you oversaw all of it. He's safe." Lando nods, stepping back from the kart as Aiden slides the helmet on.

"Well, looks like Lando has got some competition now." You don't even have to turn to know who it was. "Mommy, what's A doing?" Oscar stands next to you, holding your youngest, Daniel, and the hand of your second, Caleb. "A is learning to drive a kart like Daddy used to." Explaining what Aiden was doing to Caleb was hard sometimes because whatever Aiden was doing, Caleb wanted to do it, too.

"Can I join?" Right on time, smiling, you push his curly hair back. "Not yet, you're far too small. When you're 8 and still want to try it, we can." Oscar chuckles, seeing Aiden zip off. "Aiden! Brakes!" Lando yells. You cover your snort, seeing your husband chase after your laughing son. "He'll have grey hairs when this is over." Oscar adjusts little Daniel on his hip.

"Good, it'll humble his ass. He puts me through hell whenever he drives. He'll finally understand why I'm just as exhausted as him by the end of a race." Caleb giggles, wanting to run after his father, but you hold him close. "Lando has been dreading this. When Aiden first asked him, I thought he'd faint." Oscar smiled at his old teammate, having moved to Red Bull after his 4th season, and was in a tight battle with Lando, Charles, and Max for a WDC.

"Mommy, look how fast I'm going!" Aiden yells, hitting the gas and whipping his head back. You wince seeing it, but the rings of Aiden's laughter ease your worries. "Aiden, please!" Lando yells, stopping before you, gasping for air and sweat lining his forehead. "You're getting old." Oscar quips. Lando looks up, glaring at the Aussie. "I'm not old, just aging. Like fine whiskey." Oscar just rolls his eyes. "Your son is doing donuts." Lando takes off again, leaving Caleb cackling, watching his father.

"Maybe we should get Max or Carlos to teach Aiden?" You ask Oscar, but he shakes his head no. "He might be freaking out, but he's loving this. It's a memory they'll both look on fondly." Aiden laughs at the sound of the engine cut off as Lando scoops his oldest up.

The image of them laughing, Lando lecturing him with no anger as Aiden just giggles. "Yes, Daddy," Aiden says, his little body wobbling as his helmet makes him look like a life-size bobblehead. "Did you have fun?" Aiden nods, your fingers working quickly to get the helmet off. "It was so much fun. Daddy said we can return with Uncle Carlos, Max, and Oscar!" Aiden jumps around.

"I would love that." Oscar bends down, ruffling Aiden's hair. "Yes! With you teaching me, I can replace Daddy at McLaren." He laughs, and Lando's eyes budge out. The thought of Aiden driving in F1 was enough to kill him. "Y/n, this payback, isn't it?" He whispers, you just smirk. "Oh, sweet, sweet revenge, darling." Kissing his cheek.

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greatooglymooglyyy · 3 months

Text

Family Ties (Chris Sturniolo)

contains: fluff, kissing, general sweetest, meeting y/n's family, cussing, a bit of suggestive language, 900+ words

a/n: hehe the brother is so based on mine. i hope y'all like this cus i think it's cute.

“What do I get out of it?”

My little brother gives me a smug little grin that I’m just dying to wipe off his face. But sadly, I need him on my side tonight. I cross my arms and give him a death glare.

“20.”

“50.”

“30.”

“Make it 35. Isn’t your boyfriend rich or something?”

I roll my eyes at his stupidity and stick out my pinky finger for him to shake. He glances from my finger to my face for a couple of seconds in disbelief. “God, you’re such a nerd.” He mutters before latching pinkies with me and shaking once.

“Okay, dickhead. No bringing up my exes. No scaring him off. And if Mom or Dad start getting too embarrassing, you throw me a Hail Mary.”

He rolls his eyes but nods. “Poor guy. He’s gotta wait a little longer to find out you’re a freak of nature, I guess.”

I buck at him and he flinches causing me to grin. “Eleven years old and still a bit-”

“I’m thirteen, you asshole.”

“Aren’t you a little short for a twelve-year-old?”

“Thirt- You know what. Just for that, I’m telling the story about when you pissed on that roller coaster.”

“Alright. Chill-”

********************

I hear a knock on the door and jump up before my parents can bombard Chris. I swing it open and he’s standing there looking calm as ever. God, I wish I had his energy right now. I step outside and close the door behind me, stepping into his arms and reaching up for a kiss. He smiles against my lips and then pulls away, brushing my hair from my face.

“You look nervous.” He teases lightly. I tilt my head and give him a duh face and he laughs. “They’re gonna love me.”

“Well, of course. How could they not? You’re just so humble.”

“And handsome-”

“And down to earth-”

“And so in love with their daughter.” He gives me his best cheesy smile at this and I roll my eyes, pretending that didn’t almost take me out the game.

“Okay, come on, you fucking cornball.” I joke, slipping my hand in his. He tugs my hand, stopping me before I can open the door, and leans down to kiss me again quickly.

“Alright, now we can go.”

*******************

“Do you want to see her sixth-grade talent show?” My mom says excitedly, reaching over to turn the page of the photo album Chris is holding. I look over at my brother giving him my “help me right the fuck now” eyes and he interrupts before Chris can respond.

“Chris, you game at all?”

I breathe a sigh of relief and remind myself to go extra hard on his birthday gift this year. Chris sits up a little straighter, clearly excited, as my brother and he start up a conversation about “prime Fortnite.” Losers. My dad chimes in about how they haven’t lived until they’ve played the Nintendo 64 and my mom and I share a long-suffering look. She stands to head to the kitchen and I follow her out, leaving the boys to talk.

I stand next to her by the sink, watching her start to rinse off dishes for a second then nudge her shoulder with mine so she looks at me.

“So?”

She turns to me smiling brightly. “He’s sweet. I can tell he’s a good kid. And you look so happy. Every five seconds, you’re smiling up at him like he hung the stars, my love. But the best part? He’s looking right back at you the same way.” I look at her stunned for a second and drop my head on her shoulder, a little embarrassed.

“I love you, mom.” She pats the side of my head, pulling me closer.

“You played hockey? No shit! I damn near went to the NHL, I was so good in my day. C’mon. You, me, field hockey outside right now.”

My dad’s booming voice pulls me right out of the moment and I spin on my heels to go rescue my boyfriend.

**********************

“It was so nice to meet you guys,” Chris says with a genuine smile, reaching to give Mom a hug.

“You just come right on back whenever you want that ass-whooping, son.” My dad says, throwing a fake haymaker which Chris fake dodges with a laugh. He turns to my brother and daps him up. “You got my gamertag, right.” My brother gives him an enthusiastic nod, looking the most excited I’ve seen him in a while.

“Hell yeah, bro. Hop on Fortnite later.” Chris nods and I pull him to the door before they can start back up. As soon as we step outside, I jump up into his arms and pepper kisses all over his face. He laughs, wrapping his arms tightly around me and walking us to his car.

“Thank you for being a good sport, Chris. They love you.”

He lowers me back to the ground and smiles down at me throwing me a fake cocky shrug.

“I told you, I’m good like that.”

I roll my eyes, step closer to him, and whisper low, “You want to see what I’m good at?”

He raises his eyebrows and then picks me up again, carrying me to the passenger seat as I shriek and laugh.

"Hell yeah, I need a full demonstration.”

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo oneshot #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo oneshots #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fandom #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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rboooks · 10 months

Note

If you take requests can you do a dc x dp with dead tired ship?

I love requests~! I really hope I got dead tired, ship, right. I need to find out the ship names. It's Tim/Danny, right? If not, let me know, and I'll fix you another one.

Tim really wasn't looking forward to meeting the new heir to Vladco. Usually, his parents didn't want anything to do with new money, as they thought that new money was too close to no money, but Vlad Masters was different.

The difference? He bought out almost all of Drake Industries' shares, and now Tim honestly thinks he owns more of the family company than his parents. Jack and Janet hoped to make good connections with the man and slowly but surely trick him into selling the shares back to the Drakes.

Tim thought if he was smart enough to get the people that bought shares of his family company generations ago, not just once but at least eight times, then Vlad Masters wouldn't be as easy to trick as they thought.

Then again, his parents aren't the best businessmen around. If they were, they wouldn't be flying through the family wealth, leading them to bankruptcy.

Tim would know.

One day, he looked at their books when he was bored a few months after discovering Batman's identity. He tried to tell his mom about it, but she told him that he didn't understand the business well enough to tell.

So he signed himself into college-level business courses online to learn it. She didn't appreciate his initiative.

"Remember, Tim, Daniel Masters is who you must befriend," Janet says for the third time as they climb out of their car. " Friendships are the ladders to climbing up in the world."

"Yes, Mom." He tries to smile at her, but all Tim wants to do is go back to the roofs of Gotham and watch the Bats.

Jason is supposed to start his solo patrols tonight, which is a big deal, and he's missing it. His parents weren't supposed to be back for another month. However, their latest job was canceled due to locals complaining.

His dad grumbled about people getting in the way of history, but Tim thinks it has more to do with his parents wanting to dig up an old cemetery......apparently the locals like their grandparent's resting place to be left alone.

Tim also thinks it's not lovely to dig there just because the locals are poor, so he may have hacked into the country's files and flooded the internet with the disrespectful attempt that his parents were trying to make. It received the right amount of backlash to stop the whole operation.

He then sent the community an anonymous donation so they could fix it up, get the gravestones washed, and the stories of the buried people turned into a book. It's the least he could do.

Tim's parents didn't realize the loss of funds only because he carefully hid his tracks with shell companies.

They are greeted at the door by Vlad Masters. He gives his father a handshake, compliments his mother's dress, and even offers Tim a gentle hello. Masters is known for being a bit of a humble hermit, soft-spoken but with sharp, intelligent eyes.

Everything he expects new money to be, down to his mannerism and even the way he stands. Tim would have been able to clock him miles away without even knowing his name.

"This is my son, Daniel," Masters says, patting the head of a frowning boy Tim's age. He stands just a bit away from Masters as if he does not want to be near him. Tim notes the way he shies away from Master's hand.

Interesting.

"It's Danny." The boy hisses. Mom's face tightens at his manners. She never liked children being heard instead of seen. Danny takes a small breath before smiling at the Drakes with a friendlier composure.

The hostility was only toward his father?

"Please call me Danny. It's my real name, not a nickname," He says, offering his hand for a shake. Tim fights a wince. As the son of a wealthy family and not the head, Danny is not supposed to initiate a greeting with Tim's dad.

He just told the Drakes he needs to be aware of high society rules, making him easy pickings. His parents jump onto that weakness like a lion on a trap gazelle.

"Daniel. It's lovely to meet you. " Mom's articulation is just a shade away from being mocking. Danny's smile falls off his face closing down into a near-emotionless mask. "How old are you, deary?"

"I'm old enough to still hear correctly, unlike you. That's not my name. It's Danny." He says much to mom's surprise. Tim guesses she's not used to people challenging her so directly. He learned that, too, while he was running Gotham.

The elites always made passive-aggressive backhanded comments to insult each other. The poor told you to fuck off to your face.

"You do not speak that way to my wife, Daniel-" His Dad starts, but Danny holds up his hand.

"You either call me Danny or don't talk to me." He says. "I don't need to waste my breath repeating myself."

Wow. Tim thinks, watching the red growing on Dad's face. He's cool.

"Are you going to let him talk to me like that?" Dad demands, turning to an amuse-looking Masters. The other man raises a brow, his gentle smile still on his face, but somehow it looks more....dismissive now. As if he was looking at a child demanding the impossible.

"Why ever do you mean?" Masters asks, "Your tone implies you were insulted, but that would mean you are upset with a child asking to be spoken to with respect. Surely, a man of your standing knows children deserve respect?"

"They need to respect their elders." Mom cuts in her voice like ice.

"He is my son, so I am his elder. Not you." Master counters, "But not to worry, I will remedy this issue. Danny will no longer be speaking to you disrespectfully, as I will not allow him to be near you."

His parents had a few seconds of looking smug until Masters waved his hand back towards the driveway. "Have a lovely night, Mr. and Mrs. Drake."

"Excuse me?" Mom cries, and Tim can't believe his eyes. The rest of the wealthy guests have caught on to the issue and have gathered near the windows and doorway to watch.

"That's Fruitloop for You can leave now." Danny chirps starting to look more like his father by the amusement on his face. "Except for him. He's cool."

He points to Tim, who flushes at the attention. He had been staring at Danny, taking in every detail of his expression and body language, fascinated by the fact he did not once seem intimidated. He didn't even look bored.

He seemed comfortable in his slightly slouched posture and confident in his skin and abilities. But his earlier behavior implied that just as he is confident in himself, he also doesn't think very highly of himself.

Tim's never seen anyone like that. It's strange. New. Exciting.

Heck, it was exhilarating.

Tim wanted to break Danny Masters' head open and figure everything about him out. It felt like a new case just begging him to uncover.

"I am?" He asks in a slight daze, and the other boy offers him a dazzling smile.

"Yeah, you respect the dead. The spirits adore you."

What?

"Oh, this is the young boy who protected that cemetery in Guatemala?" Masters asks with genuine warmth this time. "A fine job, Timithoy."

"It's Tim." He hears himself say, and Masters nods.

"A fine job Tim."

Danny offers him a wink, and Tim thinks his stomach just fell out of his body. What is this-?

"Timothy, we are leaving!" His mother screeches, tugging on his arm and yanking him away. The rest of the guests laugh as the Drakes are driven away. Tim knows he will never be allowed near Danny after this, so he turns his head around to give the boy one last look.

He meets the glowing green eyes of the Masters, who wave their fingers at him.

Tim starts following Danny around after that.

(Danny and Vlad know he's there and think it's cute. That's how ghost courts, so they don't see it as a problem. What is problem is getting along long enough for them to figure out a way back to their home dimension. Danny allowed Vlad to overshadow people just so they could have the means to eat, but he's getting really sick of Gotham. At least the soft clicking sound of a camera lures him to sleep at night.

Tim approaches Robin before his hero can go to Ethiopia. He doesn't understand what he is experiencing as his first crush and concludes that the Masters are aliens planning on luring small children by making them fall under a spell through their glowing eyes. Jason takes this very seriously and agrees to wait on his mission overseas. He realizes early on what's actually happening but, by that point, thinks Tim is hilarious and just edges him on.

He, too, thinks the Masters are aliens, but he's not about to tell Bruce.)

#dc x dp crossover #The Masters are aliens Au #Requested Prompt #Danny Fenton/Tim Drake #Bad parents Jack and Janet Drake #Tim is 13 here #Danny is 14 #Vlad just thinks this all hilarious #Dimension travel #They call DC dead “spirits” and not ghost cause they lack more ecotplsm

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its-time-to-write · 5 months

Note

Hi!! Thank you for all the amazing writing you do!!! My humble request is of a reader who brings Jamie to meet her family and he’s appalled that someone so kind and gentle is treated w such lack of love/respect (ex: first comment out of her granddad’s mouth is sm about her weight/job/look/etc) and it puts a lot of things about her into perspective. At some point he can’t take it anymore and defends her and then vows to her that he will undo all of that pain and will prove to her she is worthy of all the love:) sorry it’s a long one (got lots of personal experience lol) so no worries if u can’t but it would mean the world thank you!!!

Hi cutie! Here you go! I’m sorry that you have personal experience with this, families can suck sometimes. It’s definitely from Jamie’s POV, so keep that in mind😅 Boy’s a rambler.

stuck by you

Jamie sure knows how to pick them.

No really, he does. He’s always had stellar taste in girlfriends, except usually they have shit taste in men.

It’s different this time, he swears. Keeley swears, too. Swears she’ll break every bone in his body if he so much as looks at you funny, and Jamie… well, Jamie’s not actually terrified of Keeley, just respectful, like.

So he’s going to make sure he doesn’t fuck this up because you’re funny and gorgeous and brilliant and he's also those things, so you’re like a power couple. And when you beg- no, ask, because you only have to ask once- him to come with you for a family event, he says yes without a second thought.

It’s off-season, but he’d do it in-season in a heartbeat (just with a bit of fear because Ted’s alright, but he’s a little gun-shy since the whole ‘practice’ thing).

It’s also fucking BOILING, so he’s going to wear his least-slutty shorts (it’s a family event) and a shirt that is not see-through.

He’s not going to fuck this up, not with how sweet you are, how generous, how-

A football hits the side of his head, and he’s brought out of his thoughts.

“You’re daydreaming, bruv,” comes Isaac’s voice. “What’s the point of a friendly if you can’t even pay attention?”

Jamie gives himself a shake, and he’s firmly in the present. He’s at the mid-off-season-Richmond-party or whatever, and football is a mandatory affair. He makes the mistake of glancing to where you’re standing under a tree in Colin’s backyard and fuck you’re sneaking sweets to the few kids who are flitting around the grass. Fucking Declan and his adorable children. You catch his eye and give him a little wave, and his heart jumps like he’s in primary school and not a world-renowned Premier League athlete.

Yeah, he’s good and fucked.

He makes a mental note to get you into bed tonight, he’s pretty sure it won’t be too difficult, but he’s going to have to convince you to leave early. But can you blame him?

(No, no you fucking can’t.)

—

Jamie isn’t nervous to meet your family. Seriously, he isn’t. It’s your family and a) he’s fucking greatwith families and b) he’s fucking great with you. He rocks up with you on his arm, and he’s already making plans for the sundress you’ve got on, mainly how to get in on the floor once you go home.

You’re both looking fucking fit. Jamie hopes a little bit that someone sneaks a picture of you two and it ends up in the press because this look CANNOT be wasted.

He almost misses the way your grip tightens as you walk up the steps. He tilts his head in your direction, assessing your expression.

“You okay?” he asks and receives a tight-lipped smile.

“Yup,” you reply. “Let’s fucking do this.”

Not the response Jamie was expecting, but he’ll roll with it. You push open the door and walk into the family room and the first thing out of your granddad’s mouth is, “Oh, there she is! Bold of you to wear that dress with the way you’ve been eating, my dear,” and Jamie half-expects you to say something.

Or for someone to say something.

Except no one does, they just carry on, and an aunt comes up to you to make a snide comment about your job.

“You absolutely must be struggling financially dear, but aren’t we all? I just wish I could screw a footballer and have my rent paid.”

She’s gone before Jamie can say anything, and he only needs one look at your face to understand exactly what’s going on.

You’re not sweet and kind because your family is sweet and kind. Oh no.

You’re the way you are out of sheer willpower, out of spite; kindness born the way of a weed in concrete. Out of a refusal to die. A decision to be different.

And it pisses Jamie off.

He squeezes your hand once, twice, in reassurance, letting you lead him to your parents. He recognizes them from pictures and still retains a vague hope that they’ll be like you.

Vain, vague hope, but still.

He catches the way your mum’s lips tighten into a line at your approach, and the way your dad barely suppresses a scoff.

“Oh look,” your mum says without an ounce of inflection, “you’re here. That’s wonderful.”

“Good to see you mum, dad,” you say with more grace than Jamie would have if the roles were reversed. Your dad holds out his hand to shake yours, barely acknowledging Jamie. Jamie opens his mouth to say something but you clock it, and shoot him a warning glance.

He freezes and meets your gaze. You shake your head almost imperceptibly and mouth don’t and he almost ignores you, but you’re begging him with your eyes and he swore you’d never have to beg him for anything.

So he turns away and doesn’t say anything, because he won’t be responsible for breaking you today.

And it’s just… like that. All day. It’s relentless and he feels powerless to do a single thing except watch as you refuse to let your armor crack, barely letting it dent the surface.

How did he not know?

It comes to a head when your cousin (a banking twat who Jamie’s certain had a shriveled dick) manages to comment on your weight, (supposed lack of) beauty, and finances in one fell swoop.

And that’s it. Jamie’s done.

They want to be pricks? Well, Roy’s been calling him the Prince Prick of all Pricks for fucking years, so let’s fucking go then.

“Fuck you, you giant limp-dicked twat,” he says with a smile on his face. You freeze, and so does your cousin.

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said,” Jamie repeats loudly, taking a step closer, “fuck you, you giant. Limp-dicked. Twat.” He punctuates each word with a poke to this arsehole’s chest and fuck, does it feel great.

He loves you, he’ll respect your wishes moving forward, but he’ll be FUCKED if he lets your family’s behavior continue. What would mummy say?

The entire room has gone silent, and you’ve gone pale.

But Jamie, Jamie loves an audience.

“Fuck you all, actually,” he sing-songs, and there are audible gasps.

Jamie doesn’t give a shit. “You’re all fucking arseholes to my girl, who, by the way, is the fucking best, except you’re all too fucking busy taking shots at her to notice. Don’t know what the fuck she did to all of you, but you can all piss off with that. We’re fucking leaving.” He grabs your hands and pulls you toward the door.

It’s not like you need much prompting, you’ve been counting down the minutes since you walked in the door.

“Oh,” he says turning around one last time. “Don’t bother calling. Or writing, or whatever you old twats do, unless it’s an apology for however fucking long you’ve been this shitty. I’ve only got one shit parent, can’t imagine the hell it’s been having two.”

And with that, he ushers you out the door.

“Jamie,” you gasp as soon as it shuts behind you. “What was that? What were you thinking?”

There’s a strange tightness to your voice, one Jamie’s having trouble placing.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the sun is setting and it’s tingeing your skin with gold.

Either way, it’s starting to get to him. “Dunno,” he says with a trace of belligerence.

You gape at him for a moment before saying, “Can we get in the car, please?”

Jamie says, “Yeah,” and then helps you in, suddenly aware of every bone in his body.

He swore he wasn’t going to fuck it, and he did. Christ, Keeley’s going to skin him alive.

He drives in silence the whole way home. You’re just staring straight ahead, and he can tell you’re still processing. Still replaying. You’re better than any VAR, that’s for sure.

“Jamie,” you say slowly once he’s parked in the driveway. You’ve unbuckled, but you’re still in your seat. “Why did you say all of that?”

Jamie says again, “Dunno,” but you don’t believe him.

“Why?” you ask again, voice cracking. “It’s not worth it, I’m not worth it.”

And just like that, Jamie understands.

“You are,” he replies forcefully, except that just makes you cry.

(He’s pretty sure they’re good tears, though, so he tests it by reaching for your hand. You don’t pull away, which is a good sign.)

“You are worth it,” he says again, in case you didn’t get it the first time. “Shit family’s… it’s shit, babe. I get it, I really fucking do. I’m sorry about them, I really am. And I’m sorry about me, too. Didn’t mean to say ‘fuck’ so many times, suppose I’m around Roy too much.”

That succeeds in lightening the mood, and you smile ever so slightly.

He says, “They don’t deserve you,” which just makes you laugh.

“I know,” you reply. “I just always wanted them to be a good family.”

Jamie hesitates. He knows what you mean.

Finally he says, “People don’t change like that, love. It’s almost- hardwired into them. They get fucking stuck and you can’t change them, no matter what you do. Sometimes you just gotta let them go.”

You nod and take a deep breath. Easier said than done, you suppose.

Jamie cups your cheek. “I’m with you, babe. It’s you, me, and whatever family we can put together. We’ll put in the work, yeah? Be different.”

“Yeah,” you echo, “we’ll be different.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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bexalert · 7 months

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Stardust crusaders having a crush on you

(Jotaro Kujo, Noriaki Kakyoin, Jean Pierre Polnareff, Mohammed Avdol)

Stardust Crusader stuff because I just finished part V and I miss them 😔

Also, I started this a WHILE ago, and it’s just been sitting in my drafts, so here you go.

I’ll also probably be making something for part V soon because I love them all. My accounts about to just become Jojo I’m so sorry 😭

Jotaro Kujo:

• He’s such a sweetie (he will literally ignore you)

• He doesn’t know how to just care about people??? So he won’t say anything

• But he will be very protective of you

• Atleast he’s not insulting you 😭

• He’ll just be watching you at all times, making sure you’re ok.

• He gets flustered, and then gets more flustered since he’s flustered

• Not that most people would notice

• He just starts sweating a bit and looks away.

• but you know who’s NOT shy???

• Star Platinum will not hesitate to play with your hair, stand by you, stare at you

• Obviously Jotaro will try to control him, but sometimes it just subconsciously happens

• He gets frustrated because people (POLNAREFF COUGH COUGH) will tease him

• But he bluffs well enough so you can’t tell

• When he does ask you on a date (if he does)

• It’s short, and almost a demand 😭

• “Go out with me.”

• He moves his hat so that you can’t see his face

• But he’s lowkey shaking

• Bro could defeat dio, multiple other stand users, and stop time without breaking a sweat, but when it comes to you?

• He’s just very out of his element, give my boy a chance

Noriaki Kakyoin:

• He’s just naturally so charming

• Especially if you’re around Jotaro and you’re a woman 😭

• He’ll comfort you if Jotaro makes any rude remarks

• “Pay him no mind.”

• He acts like you don’t affect him as much as you do

• But not to the point of being rude to you.

• He tries to impress you, but might not even realize he’s doing it

• Like he’ll do something cool and then immediately look to you to see if you saw him

• Might act just a smidge more charming

• Oh you need to walk through this door? He’ll open it for you. You’re having a seat? Here, let him pull your chair out for you. There’s a puddle? Oh, don’t get your shoes wet! He can carry you across- for your safety of course!

• He’s very polite, and respects you so much

• Always want to hear your input

• What do YOU think is the best route? Which hotel do YOU like?

• “What do you think, Y/N?”

• Just cares about you very much.

• He’ll be confident but humble when he asks you out

• “Y/N, I like you. Would you go on a date with me?”

• He’s shaking in his boots

• He just always has this content smile when he’s with you.

Jean Pierre Polnareff:

• Oh brother we got ourselves a yapper 😭

• Everyone knows he likes you

• It is absolutely not a secret

• You just assume he’s joking, or think he doesn’t really mean it

• But he is DEAD serious

• Shameless simp- he doesn’t care who makes fun of him

• “Ah, Y/N, do you need help with that? I’ll help!”

• You didn’t need help, he just can’t stand to see you working

• “Mon amour, someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t have to do work like this. Hohoho! leave it to me!”

• He’s incredibly corny and will say the cringiest things at any time.

• “Ah! You’re eyes are as beautiful and shiny are Silver Chariots armor!”

• and you’re just like thanks???? I guess???

• He will ask you out constantly. Just got done fighting? He’ll ask you out to cuddle in his sleeping mat (and also proclaim his undying love) you’re hungry? Please! Let him take you out to eat (and proclaim his undying love) you said you’re tired? He’ll ask you if he can carry you (and of course proclaim his undying love)

• When you finally take it seriously enough to give him a chance, he is over the moon

• He’s telling everyone

• “they said yes! We’re dating!”

• He’s so head over heels and just adores you

Mohammad Avdol:

• Dude he is SWEATING

• Like you won’t notice because he’s very calm and collected, but he’s freaking out

• It also doesn’t help that Magicians Red always comes out when you’re around, and he just keeps getting hotter.

• Like if you’re having a long conversation with Avdol, it will just progressively get more hot

• He tries desperately to keep Magicians Red under wraps, and for the most part he does

• But he gets so embarrassed when he cant

• He’s super respectful, like feels bad for even liking you

• He thinks he’s being gross for thinking of you like that especially if he doesn’t think you like him 😭

• He feels embarrassed outright asking to just have a conversation with you, so he always tries to cover it up with something else

• “Y/N, do you mind helping me read this?”

• HE COULD READ IT!!! He just wanted an excuse to talk to you ☹️

• Since he’s also the groups stand teacher, he’ll use his knowledge to his advantage

• Like you’ll made some off comment about “hmm wonder why that happened.” And he’s going into nerd mode

• 🤓☝️ “Actually when a stand user…”

• Like it was not necessary for him to go off like that, but the way you listen so intently makes his heart flutter.

• if you take his advice into account or say something reminded you of him, he is DEAD

• You actually thought about him, even just for one second, and that is wild to him

• He is also a simp, but no one would notice. Pouring your tea for you, helping set up your mat, bandaging your wounds, etc.

• You just think he’s being a good friend

• When he finally asks you out, he’s so flustered, but tries to keep calm.

• “Y/N, when this is all over I would like to take you on a date. Is that ok?”

• He’s just the sweetest nicest big ol’ teddy bear.

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cxptain-capsicle · 2 months

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Beyond the Sea | Luke Castellan | II

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Unclaimed Poseidon Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn flashbacks, established relationship present day, Gods being terrible parents

A/N: If you are new around here I love taking suggestions and incorporating your guy's ideas and headcannons in my series so feel free to leave thoughts in my inbox!

Series Masterlist Taglist

“So all of the major 12 gods have their own cabin where their children live. Children from one cabin can’t go into another god's cabin.” Luke explained as he walked you down the aisle of houses. “This one is ours.”

“Ours?” You raised your eyebrow questionably.

“All the new arrivals stay here, in the Hermes cabin.” Luke gestured towards a cabin that was much larger than all of the others. It wasn’t nearly as elegant as the ones around it but it felt warm and welcoming. It looked like a simple log cabin with a large front porch held by tall log columns. On the front of the house was a large green banner with a Greek symbol in the center. Over the door a semi-circle stained glass window that reminded you of the ones in the Big House. The cabin looked a little run down but that wasn’t shocking considering the amount of kids running around inside. Walking inside felt like entering a circus tent. There was yelling, laughing, singing, kids running around, hanging upside down from bunk beds. Even with the chaos it still felt cozy. The inside was dimly lantern lit, the walls were paneled with dark wood, in the center was a large fire pit that made the whole room feel like a warm hug. You followed Luke further into the cabin as several heads turned to look at the new arrival.

“Here,” Luke said as he led you to a bed and dropped the few things that you had on the bed. “This one was mine, now it’s yours.”

“You’re giving me your bed?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugged. “I’ll move to the top bunk, it’ll be nice to have a change.” He was humble. He was willing to give you one of the only things that was his and he didn’t want any praise for it.

“Thank you.” You meant it, and you didn’t know what else to say.

“Everyone!” Chiron announced as he trotted into the cabin doors. “Your attention, please. This is Percy Jackson. I trust you will see to whatever he needs.” Everyone stared at the sandy-haired boy awkwardly. Everyone in the Hermes cabin was used to this by now. New kid comes in, new kid gets claimed, new kid leaves, and the cycle continues. Within seconds everyone went back to their conversations although many of those conversations now included the word: Minotaur.

You and Luke glanced at each other unsure if you should say anything to the boy.

“He shouldn’t be alone.” You whispered to him. “Grover said the Minotaur killed his mom.”

You followed Luke as he made his way to the boy, who sat up quickly when we approached.

“Look, if you want to give me a hard time, just do it tomorrow.” He said before either Luke or you could get a word out. “I can't do any more today.”

“Heard what happened to you on the hill.” Luke said slowly, arms crossed over his chest. “And I just... wanted to say I'm really sorry.”

“I know what you're going through.” You chimed in. “Believe me, I really do.”

“I'm Luke.” He reached out to shake the boy's hand.

“Percy.” He hesitantly grabbed Luke’s hand.

“Y/n.” You couldn’t help but smile at him. He reminded you so much of yourself when you first came to camp so many years ago.

“Rise and shine!” Luke’s voice boomed above you. You groaned and turned away from him in an attempt at protest.

“Five more minutes.” Luke chuckled at your words but he didn’t take it for an answer.

“C’mon.” He ripped the blanket off of the bed. “First day at camp, gotta make it count.”

“Luke!” You shouted, the cold air shocking your body. “Do you make it a habit to torture the new campers?” You groaned as you rolled out of bed and began to put your shoes on. Luke was already geared up and ready to go, twitching with excitement.

“Only the ones who make it easy.” He smirked.

“Screw you.” You reached to grab your pillow and threw it at his face. It caught him by surprise causing him to stumble back, making both of you laugh.

“Maybe you’re an Ares kid?” He faked injury dramatically. “We’ll find out today.”

“What?” That piqued your interest. Ever since you arrived at camp yesterday you couldn’t stop thinking about getting claimed.

“We’re gonna figure out what you’re good at. Maybe that’ll help us figure out who your parent is.” Luke explained.

“Where do we start?” You stood up with excitement.

“Breakfast.”

The two of you made your way to the mess hall, it was much more crowded this morning than it was the previous day. Each of the tables were nearly full with kids chatting over breakfast.

“So what’s your story?” You asked Luke as you sat down with your breakfast.

“What do you mean?” He chuckled slightly.

“Your story.” You repeated. “How’d you get here?”

“Well,” He sighed. “I’ve been here for 3 summers.” He pulled at the necklace around his neck with three colored beads strung on the brown cord. “I came here with Annabeth, an Athena kid.”

He gestured over to a girl a few years younger than you sitting at the Athena table. “And Thalia, she uh- she didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” Your voice trailed off. “I’m sorry Luke.”

“Thalia died getting us to camp safely.” He continued. “She died a hero.” An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. “Then I got here, got claimed by Hermes.” Even mentioning his father seemed to send chills down his back.

“What happens if I don’t get claimed?” The thought had crossed your mind more than a few times.

“Well,” Luke shifted in his seat. “It doesn’t happen too often but, you’d stay in the Hermes cabin. That’s where all the unclaimed kids stay.”

“Well if that’s the case, I’ll need to move beds because you snored above me all night.” You teased.

“Oh no way I’ll just follow you wherever you go.” He said as he took a big bite of his breakfast. “So who are we looking for, a mom or a dad?”

“I’m not sure.” You said through a bit of toast. “I was left at a firehouse as a baby so I have no idea who my mortal parent is either.”

“So where did you live?” Luke leaned onto his elbow on the table in interest.

“Foster families, group homes, things like that.” You explained. “Until monsters would trash them and I’d get blamed for it and get moved.”

“Well, we can’t rule out any god but we’ll start out with the olympians. We’ve got a lot of work to do,”

After breakfast Luke led you all around camp. He took you to Arts and Crafts and sat you down at an empty sheet of canvas and easel with a bowl of miscellaneous fruit in front of it. Luke went around to the front of the easel and knocked the bowl onto the floor.

“I have a better subject for your painting.” He stood in front of you, placed his hands on his hips and looked to the side triumphantly. The pose of a hero. You laughed at him and did your best to capture him on the canvas. You tried to take your time but Luke quickly started complaining that his arms were hurting and urged you to hurry. The top half of the painting was pretty good, you could tell it was Luke, you even captured his smug smirk which made you smile. As you went down the painting got more rushed and sloppy but you blamed Luke for that.

“Tada.” You said enthusiastically as you took the canvas off the easel and turned it around to show him. He came up quickly to grab it.

“You didn’t fully capture my good looks, but other than that it’s pretty good.” He shrugged and you laughed and smacked his shoulder with a paintbrush. “So maybe an Apollo kid.” He took the canvas from you and rolled it up, saving it for later in his bag.

Luke continued to lead you around camp trying everything he could think of. He took you to the forge and quickly decided you were likely not a Hephaestus kid after you struggled to even make a dent in the hot metal. He took you to the archery range and despite never holding a bow before, you weren’t too bad. Artemis could be a maybe. He took you to a little training obstacle course by the arena designed to test speed and agility. You did your best but got hit by multiple bags of sand that were built to resemble flying harpies. So Hermes is a no. “Well, we’re definitely not siblings.” Luke laughed as you got hit by a sandbag that toppled you over. For whatever reason that felt very relieving to you. He took you to the strawberry fields where you propagated a few berries. Possibly Demeter. Finally Luke wanted to test your swordsmanship. You were excited for this. Only being here a day and a half you had already heard of Luke’s skills with a sword. Having been on the run from monsters basically your whole life you had gotten pretty good at fighting,

“We’ll get some swords and go to the woods to practice.” Luke told you on the way to the armory.

“Why are we going to the woods?” You questioned.

“So I don’t embarrass you in front of everyone when I beat you.” He smiled widely.

“I hate you-” You laughed but were cut off by someone yelling from up the hill.

“New girl!” Another girl shouted. As you kept walking closer she became easier to see. She was dressed in full greek armor and wore a helmet with a bright red crest. When she took off the helmet her dark curly hair slipped out and gave you a better look at her face.

“Her name is Y/n,” You swore Luke was scowling. “Play nice.”

“Am I not allowed to meet the girl we almost died trying to find?” She faked offense.

“You were in the cave.” You remembered. “You thought I was dead.”

“You looked dead.” She shrugged. “So what are you two doing out here?”“Y/n’s gonna try her hand at some combat.” Luke explained.

“Perfect.” Clarisse said menacingly. She grabbed a chestplate off the rack and held it out to you. “I’ll take the first round.”

“Clarisse, I don’t think-” Luke started but you cut him off.

“Let’s do it.” You eagerly took the chestplate and a sword off of the wall. Something about Clarisse invigorated you. Luke looked at you wearily but figured he was quick enough to stop Clarisse before she killed you. You and Clarisse were stationed about 6 feet away from each other, you armed with a sword and her with a spear. Before you even realized you’d begun she stormed forward, her spear pointed towards you. You took a step to the side to avoid being impaled and she quickly redirected the tip of her spear to follow you but you went under the head of the spear with your sword blade, sending the tip of her spear towards the sky. You took a swipe at her with your sword but she quickly deflected. While you were recovering from your failed attack she slashed the head of her spear down. You stepped back to avoid the spear hitting your face but the tip of the spearhead tore into your shoulder causing you to whine in pain.

“Y/n!” Luke cried out and he began to run to your side but you held out your hand telling him to stop. Your face flushed hot with anger. You weren’t mad at Clarisse, it was a fight and people get hurt. You had always been easy to set off especially in competition.

“It’s just a cut,” You stared Clarisse down. “Let’s keep going.”

“I like this girl.” She laughed before rushing forward again with a giddy smile before taking a stab at you. You took one hand off of your sword and grabbed the shaft of the spear as tightly as you could. She pulled and pulled but couldn’t get the spear free from your grasp. You picked your foot up and landed a hard kick in her stomach sending both of you flying backwards. Despite your best efforts you lost grip on your sword but went down with the spear. You both stumbled to your feet and when you did were both met with a blade under your chins. You with her spear and her with your sword. A draw. She laughed and lowered the sword and you did the same.

“Good to know we didn’t risk our lives for someone completely useless.” You thought that was a compliment coming from Clarisse.

“Let me see your arm.” Luke panicked as he rushed over to you. He grabbed your arm and began examining the cut on your shoulder. The cloth of your Camp Half-Blood was torn and the gash was bleeding much more than you had realized. “Let’s get you to the big house.”

The entire walk to the big house Luke muttered under his breath how it was so stupid to fight Clarisse and it wasn’t until after a few of the Apollo kids treated your wound he admitted that he was impressed. Saying that of course you still couldn’t compare to his sword skills.

I would love to hear feedback! <3

Taglist: @fudosl @lenasvoid

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #pjo fandom #pjo series #luke x reader #percy jackson show #percy jackson x reader #luke pjo #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo

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sanjisboyfie · 5 months

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draken as your attentive boyfriend

requested, thank u for whoever requested this literally felt my heart explode writing this because dear god i love draken sososososoo much. like to be so fr hes my hashtag dream man ! NOT ALL SELFINDULGENT WHAHHTTT

-> draken x ftm reader, sfw & nsfw portions (cw at that part) -> fem alligned, minors, and blank blogs dni !! DNI !! if i see you interact, i will block you

sfw

— draken who lets you play with his hair, enjoys it a lot, actually. the soft black strands are at your mercy. whatever you wanna do to it, even if it's tying it in some pretty bow and making him walk around the shop with it like that, he loves it. when you guys are just chilling in your humble apartment, his head is in your lap and he's almost asleep with the way your fingers gently run over his scalp and through his hair.

"dude, seriously?" one of his customers said, looking at his black hair that had pink ribbons tying them at their ends since you had styled his hair in two simple plaited braids.

"what about 'em?" draken snarled, leaning against the counter and not-so subtly flexing his muscular arms. "my boyfriend did it for me, you got a problem with it?"

cue the customer very nervously shaking their head as your boyfriend continues glaring down at him as if he were nothing but an insect.

— he lets you borrow his clothes whenever you want. considering how large he is, they more often than not end up fitting you pretty oversized or just right. he smiles whenever you greet him in the morning and you're wearing one of his shirts or his sweatpants that are sagging loosely off of your waist (not to mention the bottoms of the pant legs are dragging on the floor). also doesn't care if you wanna borrow his boxers either. he's a clean guy. he washes his underwear, so obviously it's fine if you take some of his to wear.

you had quietly asked if you could use one of his boxers as shorts around the house. he noticed your meek demeanor when asking, as if you were expecting outright rejection.

and he quickly pulled you in by your waist, kissing the top of your head as he said he obviously didn't mind. he kisses your cheek when he hands them to you.

"we can always buy you some of your own too," he comments, then quickly adding in, "not that i mind you wearing mine! it's just, if you ever wanted your own couple pairs, baby, we can always go out and buy some," he assures you, sitting on the bed as you stand in between his legs.

his hands are lovingly caressing the backsides of your thighs, drawing random shapes as he speaks softly to you, "but, next time, don't even ask, alright? what's mine is yours," he waits for you to nod to show that you understand before smiling and pressing a kiss to your lips.

in general, he loves seeing you in his clothes and if he knows that the oversized clothing acts as a simple safe haven, he makes sure you know that he could care less if you steal a couple shirts or hoodies.

"just don't touch my socks, alright? can never keep track of them as it is, if both of us started wearing them, i'd be fucked."

— hovers close in public, always keeping an eye on you no matter where you are. old habits die hard, he guesses, since he's almost always in constant worry mode whenver you guys go out. it's been a long time since his deliquency days, but he's never not going to be paranoid. just let him rest his arm over your shoulder or rest his hand on your waist, it really puts his mind at ease.

the two of you were going grocery shopping to stock up your pantry and fridge. draken was pressing his chest to your back, nonchalant with the close proximity the two of you were in with each other. his hands were even pushing the cart in front of you, playfully scoffing when you told him you could do it.

"make my pretty boy do the work? don't think so," he chuckled when you told him you could do it, kissing the top of your head to get you to forget about it. because there was no way he was going to let you.

he reaches over your head for some things, dropping them into the cart without a second thought. if you motion for him to grab anything, he's got it in his hands in the blink of an eye. really attentive to what you want, in general.

also he likes to boost his own ego by doing this, teasing you that, "i'm just the best boyfriend, right? man, you're a lucky guy to lock me down, huh?" as he's nuzzling his nose into your neck, making you smack him away at how affectionate he was being.

another instance when draken is painfully aware of his surroundings is when you two are walking down the street. the location of your guys' apartment isn't the greatest, but it's also not the worst. he's just really aware of whatever is going on around you two, even if you're just walking around.

it was nighttime and the both of you were getting a craving for some junkfood. so a quick walk to the conveinent store, like two blocks down, was the only answer.

he had your hand tightly gripped in his, listening to you list out all the things that you wanted from the store and nodding every now and then.

"we can also get some dinner there, right? you want some instant ramen, baby?" he asks gently, looking down at you with a smirk, "dare you to get the extra spicy one and eat the whole thing without taking a sip of water!"

just as you're about to scold him for being so ridiculous, a random person jumps out of the alleyway you guys were just about to pass.

draken pulls you behind him faster than you could react and nails the guy right in the balls. the clattering of a metal hitting concrete is the next thing you hear after the guy's groans and you peak over draken's arm to see the state of the random man.

"shit, fuckass cops need to do a better job around here," draken sighs, acting as if that wasn't even a big deal. he still had your hands in his, so he wasn't that phased. as long as you stayed close, he would be as cool as cucumber. "are you alright, [name]?"

his soft eyes settled on you and was pleased to see you were physically fine.

"well, let's get that spicy ramen! you're treating though, since i just saved our lives!" he teases, kicking the guy's face as you both walk past and not looking back once.

once you get rung up at the counter though, he's tapping his card before you can react and kissing your cheek lovingly, "d'ya really think i'd let you pay? c'mon now," he teases, biting your cheek lightly before guiding the both of you to the window seats the conveience store had.

— the "d" in draken actually stands for domesticity !!! loves to wake up next to you, both of you having really messy hair. loves brushing his teeth next to you in the mirror, fuck - he loves when you guys are just in the bathroom at the same time. it's a really intimate thing that he's really, genuinely happy you're that comfortably with each other that you've reached that point together in the relationship. loves to feel you hug him from behind as he prepares you guys breakfast. loves to just laze away on the couch together on his days off. loves loves loves making your small apartment a cute home for the two of you.

draken leans against the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth as he tries to will himself to get excited for the day. you were in the shower, telling him it was one of the mornings you needed a shower to actually get energized. you two were just that tired.

and when you come out of the shower dripping wet, he spits out the toothpaste in his mouth and continues through his routine without wasting a beat. he turns to you as you're drying your naked body, easily maintaining eye contact as he asks, "what you want for breakfast? i'll make it,"

you think for a moment, roughly drying your hair with a towel as you do. and before you can respond, he's coming over with a scowl on his face, taking the towel from your hands.

"seriously? we talked about how bad that is for your hair, idiot," he scolds you, taking the opportunity to do it for you. there's really no need for him to do it, you would have heeded his warning and dried it more gently, but he felt a warmth bloom in his chest as he took care of you.

draken doesn't know it, but he really was made to be a husband. he's just that attentive and caring. (lock him down right now-)

! nsfw, draken x ftm reader

cw: use of the word hole and cunt.

— the thing with draken is that, a lot of people assume he's a hard dom and that's all he is !! not too far from the truth, tbh, but !!! still, he doesn't mind handing you the reins if you ever want to give it a go or if you're just feeling it. he doesn't mind anything. he's a big "go with the flow" type of guy. so if you feel like domming him, say less, just tell him where to stick his dick and he's for it.

— okay, no seriously, though, he's a big listener and believes so heavily in communication (as all good partners should-). tell him your limits / what you liked and what you don't like once and he'll remember it for the entirety of your relationship.

— throughout your relationship and developement of your sexlife, there is one thing about draken that never changes. and it's with how vocal he is. whether it be through the sounds he makes or the words he says to you or under his breath, this man will always be showing you with his voice how good you're making him feel. you get the best of both worlds, praise and degradation (<- depends on the night).

"fuck, my pretty boy, you're so tight," he moans as he grips your hips, slamming into you as his jaw is dropped at the sensation of you around him. he's ducking his head into your neck in a second, placing open mouthed kisses and leaving a couple hickies over your skin.

draken's groans are almost louder than the sounds your cunt is making. it's almost like he wants to drown it out, but really, it's all just him unable to quiet down. you just make him feel so good, how the hell do you expect him to be quiet? not when you're practically sucking him back in each time he shifts his hips backwards. not when your fucked out face is looking up at him.

you're perfect for him, he's convinced of it.

— really into body worship. kisses ever inch of your skin and if it were up to him, he'd make you cum ten times over just by playing with you. he doesn't even have to use his cock to get you there, he's sure of it. (he's got a big ego for a reason, though, trust. draken's got a big dick and knows how to use it).

"so fucking hot," he praises right into your ear as he's fingering your sopping wet hole with his fingers. he was laid up against the headboard of the bed, with you putting your entire weight onto his chest. his arms were draped over your torso, eyes trained on where his fingers were disappearing inside of you. "gonna ruin you, baby, gonna fucking ruin you,"

you moan as his palm rubs against your clit, squirming your hips away at the overwhelming sensation. he clicks his tongue, using his entire arm to wrap around you and hold your hips still.

"you drive me crazy," he curses, nipping at your neck and smirking at the mewl you let out, "get so fucking hard just thinking of you, baby. wish i could just fuck you for the rest of my life, don't need anything else when i got my handsome boy right here,"

spends a lot of time just running his tongue over ever inch of your body. every kiss he places on your body earns you a praise of how perfect you are for him. draken is the definition of a service top, he's there to please you and make you feel good.

it's his favorite thing in the world, making you feel good to the point of no return.

— most annoying part of draken's personality is that he's a fucking tease. if he feels like making you work for it, he will make you work for it. he's rarely ever mean, but when he is mean, he gives you a hardass time. but don't worry, he makes up for it by fucking you stupid <3

draken coos, holding your jaw so easily in his hands, "beg better than that, pup," his other hand is holding the base of his semi-hard cock. you're kneeling in front of him, lips in a perfect pout (the sight of them glistening with a mixture of his and yours saliva makes him hard real quick). he slaps the tip of his dick to your lips, smirking when you instinctively drop your jaw to let him hit your tongue.

"want me to fuck your throat? hm? use your words," he drawls, but doesn't show any sign of pulling his dick out of your mouth when you close your lips around him. the only response you give him is a moan that sends shivers down his spine. his hand buries itself into your hair, controlling the pace you bob your head at.

as the drool drops down to your knees from your chin, he shoves you off of his dick, almost wincing at the cold air that contrasts with the warmth that once surrounded him.

"still haven't heard you beg for it," he reminds you, making you roll your eyes with a newfound pissed off expression on your face. he notices that, quirking his eyebrow, "don't give me that look, brat,"

he tugs on your hair, making you crane your neck backwards to follow the movement, "is that what you are now? a brat? what happened to my good boy that did as he was told?" a cruel grin comes over his face, "or are you just acting out cause you wanna be fucked like one?"

in the blink of an eye, he's so easily picking you up off of your position on the floor and tossing you onto the bed, "always wanted to fuck you dumb. have you remembering nothing but my name," he pulls back from your chest, where he was previously placing wet kisses on, "you want that? want my cock buried inside you?"

and, of course, the answer is obvious.

if you want a more focused drabble of nsfw draken instead of just these headcanons lmk <3 and i'll get to it some time muah

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