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sunnami · 8 months

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you'd be the love of my life when i was young

summary: gryffindors wear their heart on their sleeve when they fall in love. slytherins keep their heart locked far away to keep it from breaking.

pairing: poly!marauders x reader (sirius x reader, remus x reader, lily x reader, and james x reader)

tags: slight angst, fluff, lucius malfoy, happy ending

note: i have a chemistry quiz due in 50 minutes but this takes priority. . . i haven't written in a while so forgive my rusty writing skills, they've only been let out from the basement today. not proofread, we die like the marauders. (title is taken from the song, 21 by gracie abrams, because that's roughly around the age jily die. hehe.)

They said when you fell in love with the right people, everything would fall in place after.

What a load of bullshit.

You had come to a conclusion one winter morning, laying in the Gryffindor common room dressed in your woolly, green jumper. You rested on the worn-out leather seat, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you stared at the ceiling, thinking about how it was going terribly wrong. How funny it was, that the 30th of December greeted you with an existential crisis instead of presents and hot chocolate.

There was something quite wrong with you, you had noticed for the past few months.

Every time Sirius Black smiled at you, showing off his pearly canines and the crinkles by his deep-grey eyes, you would experience a painful, tightening sensation in your chest — like someone was squeezing at your heart. Most people knew Sirius Black, the prankster, but you were lucky enough to know Sirius, the kind and spirited boy who had a heart that loved fiercely more than anyone you knew.

Cosy afternoons found you in the library with Remus Lupin, and a strange feeling would erupt in your stomach whenever Remus leaned down, and you’d catch a whiff of pine needles and fresh mint. Shaggy, blond hair falling over his eyes as he came to life, talking about your common love for muggle books. He made time feel like an illusion, minutes fading away into hours as the two of you shared stifled giggles, cheeks numb by the time you left the room.

And James, oh James Potter. It was difficult to describe what you felt with him — but with James, the brightest colours in the world couldn’t even compare to him. James was like putting on a pair of brand-new eyeglasses and seeing everything clearly for the first time. And without a doubt, you knew that James would never let you get hurt. But these days, you were weak in the knees as you’d see him across the Great Hall, waving at you excitedly as he bellowed your name, and to come and sit next to them.

Last, but certainly not the least, Lily Evans. Her sweet, airy voice was a warm hug on a cold day. And her actual hugs were second to none — don’t tell Sirius, however, he liked to shift into Padfoot to steal Lily’s title as the queen of cuddling. Lily flowers were delicate, she was anything but. The spitfire of Gryffindor, who would raise her chin and defy anyone who would harass you for hanging out with them.

(“You’re our emotionally constipated Slytherin,” said Lily as she mushed your cheeks, cooing when you tried to glare at her, and the three boys guffawing in the background. They liked to tease you often, being a year younger than them.)

Were you dying?

That was the only plausible explanation to your palpitating heart and rickety knees.

No, it was definitely not because you had gone and fell in love with your best friends.

That was absurd.

You had tried venting to Lucius Malfoy once. Narcissa often doted on you, sneakily leaving treats on your desk before she left for her class, and fussing when you got sick — which was quite often. That meant, when you weren’t with the marauders, you were trailing after the Slytherin power couple, or Severus.

(Lucius curled his lips in disgust, Narcissa sipping tea by his side, failing at hiding her knowing smirk. “I am above such childish matters,” hissed Lucius, scowl deepening when Narcissa laughed heartily, looking happier than she had been since returning home for the holidays. “I do not know why you’d even think to come to me for this.”

You huffed.

Maybe you’d try Severus next.

Naturally, he stormed off the moment Lily’s name fell from your lips.

Your resident seventh-years were confusing.)

Fortunately, you were stripped from your thoughts when the entrance to the common room slammed open, the paintings clamouring as they were disturbed from their slumber. One by one, the marauders piled inside the room, a string of melodious laughter and boisterous conversations following their arrival. Hastily, you sat up, heart thudding against your ribcage. Silence, you wretched beast, you told it. Don’t let them see how I burn for them.

“There you are!” Sirius came into view first, grinning widely as he crossed the room to reach you. “Who said you could be this pretty in the morning, love?”

Ba-dump!

Sirius plopped down head first onto your lap, manoeuvring your hand to comb through his hair as he sighed in contentment. “Bloody hell,” He exhaled shakily, “Last night was the worst one we’ve ever been through.”

Your fingers ghosted through the new scar etched across his sharp cheekbones — it was nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix, but you still didn’t like the sight of them bruised and wounded. Swiftly, Sirius grabbed your hand and intertwined your own with his. “I’m sorry,” You whispered.

Sirius chuckled tiredly, tightening his hold on you, as though you were a tether that kept him afloat in his sea of nightmares.

(And you were. If only you knew.)

“It’s not your fault,” said Sirius.

Then, your eyes landed on Remus limping towards you, his bare skin littered with scrapes and marks, supported with an arm around James’s broad shoulders. He sent a toothy smile your way, despite the tired lines on his forehead and deep bags beneath his eyes. “Waited up all night for us, huh?”

“I just couldn’t sleep knowing you guys were out there,” You whispered sheepishly. “It’s too dangerous, what happens if something goes terribly wrong, and it costs you your life? We need to tell someone.”

“Everyone who needs to know, already knows.” Remus bit down a pained expression as he sat by your side, head lolling on your shoulder. “This is the best we have for now.”

You didn’t like it.

You didn’t like it at all.

Before you could reply, Remus turned his head, lips feathering against your exposed skin. His voice was low as he said, “‘Sides, it’s our job to worry about you, not the other way around.”

“Well, I apologize for interrupting your job,” You whispered back harshly, wondering if that was all you were to them, a younger friend they felt the need to look after. Oh, how mortifying that would be.

James chuckled from behind you, bending over the back of the couch, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, lingering for a few moments that felt like an eternity. “You’re too adorable,” said James, tweaking your nose. “Our angry, little Slytherin.”

“I’m not little.” You glowered at him.

“Perhaps not.” James smiled cheekily. “But you’re ours.”

Often times, you had wondered how the five of you came to be so tight-knit, knowing their disdain for most of the Slytherins.

(Little did you know, you smiled at them once in Potions, and they were a goner.)

Something stirred deep in your belly.

You sucked in a breath. “Don’t say things like that, James.”

People could get the wrong idea.

You could get the wrong idea.

“Well, why not?” Lily appeared in your peripheral vision, the scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh rain filling the room. Like the three boys, her skin was sallow from lack of sleep, but her bare face and blinding grin left your heart racing. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

It could be, just not in the way you wanted it to be true.

You sighed. “Class is going to start in a few hours, I should get going.”

“Or,” James began wickedly, throwing a thick blanket onto the floor by the fireplace, and tossing a bunch of throw pillows at Sirius’s face. “We could have a sleepover right here.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Lily merrily, stealing James’s blanket as she placed a pillow beneath her head.

“I really have to go—” You reasoned pathetically.

“Stay,” whispered Sirius without even opening his eyes as he curled his lithe fingers around your wrist. “You being here makes us feel better.”

They were too cruel, saying all these sweet words, not knowing how it drove knives through your heart.

James yawned as he laid on the carpeted floor, hiking the blanket up to his shoulders as he threw a leg over Lily, pulling her close to his chest, nuzzling the crook of her neck. “D’you have your textbooks with you, love?” He asked you drowsily.

“No,” You answered, any other words lodged in your throat.

“That’s fine.” James hummed. “I’ll just get the cloak and sneak into the dungeons later to get the books for you.”

“Sleep,” Remus urged you, unaware how you shivered at his words.

“You can’t be comfortable like that,” You told him in disbelief, watching his neck bend at an angle to lay on your shoulder.

“Trust me,” said Remus gently, eyelashes tickling your skin, “I’m right where I want to be.”

You had grown silent for a few beats, unaware how Sirius’d opened his eyes, staring at your worried expression.

(How could one person be so perfect, he wondered.)

“You alright, darling?” He reached out to trace the curve of your jaw with his thumb, the palm of his hand holding your face as though you were a pureblood’s antique treasure. (Mine, mine, mine, his heart screamed.)

But like the Slytherin you were, you lied as easily as you breathed.

“I’m fine.”

As you laid in between Remus and Sirius, watching the peaceful rise of Lily and James’s chests, you had come to a daunting realization.

You were irrevocably and agonizingly in love with your best friends.

And because fate liked to spit in your face, the four of them were already in a beautiful, committed relationship.

Who were you to get in the way of that?

—

They would understand, you convinced yourself.

They would understand that you had to stay away from them. You had to protect your heart and keep it safe. The marauders were a dangerous bunch, and they had played the biggest prank on you, and by Merlin, would you fall for this particular prank over and over again if it meant you could hear their voices and fall into their embrace.

But you couldn’t stay. They would only crush your heart otherwise.

If Gryffindors wore their heart on their sleeves when they fell in love, Slytherins protected theirs with every fibre of their being, locking it in a cage where no one else can have the power to break it.

Like what any love-stricken teenager would do in the face of heartbreak, you began to ignore the objects of your affections — ignoring the way your soul called out to theirs.

It wasn’t as obvious the first few days. You would escape their company under the ruse of studying for McGonagall and Flitwick’s practical tests.

(“They’re notoriously difficult after all,” You told them, a nervous laugh accompanying your lie. Peter eyed you curiously, noticing small details the others could not see — your quivering lips, your nails digging into your palms, and the way your eyes wouldn’t meet any of theirs. “I just don’t want to fail.”

You could have cried at the way James held the back of your head as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ll do well, love. You always do.”

“You can study with me, if you want,” Remus quickly offered. “I’m not as good as James in transfiguration, but I can definitely teach better than those two.”

“Hey!” Sirius exclaimed in mock offence.

“Thanks, it’s sweet of you to offer,” You told them, shifting your weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “But—”

“Say less, darling,” Lily interjected kindly, wrapping her scarf around your neck. She smiled at you, holding both your cheeks in her palms. “They’re the worst lot to study around, I know. Just don’t study too hard, okay? Take breaks, have a cup of tea now and then, and remember it’s okay to ask for help — don’t give me that face — if it gets too overwhelming, just ask. We’re here for you in every way you need us.”

Oh.

You were well and truly screwed.

“Thanks,” You croaked.)

But it was getting harder and harder to come up with excuses.

(“Wotcher!” Sirius grinned, encasing you in a tight hug after bumping into you in the corridor. “Haven’t seen you in a while, busy bee. Fancy a lunch with us in Hogsmeade?”

You scrunched your nose, red and bitten from the winter frost, stepping away from him and ignoring the way his face fell. “I. . . I can’t. I’ve got practice with the Frog Choir.”

Sirius shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “S’alright. I can wait and pick you up right after, then we’ll swing by that shop you really like—”

“I can’t, Sirius,” You interrupted harshly, wrapping your arms around your chest as your gaze dropped to the ground. “Sorry. I just. . . I’ll just catch you some other time.”

Sirius flinched. “Sure, love. Other time, yeah?”

But only the wind replied.

Saturday came, and along with it was the long-awaited match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. James, decked out in his uniform, bounded over to you at the Slytherin’s side of the Great Hall, oblivious to the death glares some of your housemates had sent his way. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, lifting you from your seat.

“It’s Quidditch day, pidge!” James tilted his head, awfully resembling a lost, confused puppy. “Why aren’t you dressed yet? It’s the game of games! Even Remus is announcing the game later.”

You bit your lip before responding. “I’m not going, James.”

“What?” He furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

Ever since you had become friends with James Potter in your first year, you had never missed a single game of his. Except for the one time you had fallen sick during his match against Hufflepuff — and the moment he knew you were ill, the game ended in less than two minutes, by his sheer determination to get by your side quickly and make sure you weren’t alone.

You sighed. “I don’t know, James, I’m just not feeling up to it today.”

It was a big, fat lie, and he knew it too.

You didn’t go to his match later that day.

It was one of the biggest losses James had ever experienced — he wasn’t talking about Quidditch.)

Your housemates were beginning to realize was something was off as well. They might not be particularly fond of the Gryffindors that captured your heart, but they were fond of you, and they guarded their own.

You had a stare-down with Regulus Black in the common room — and you weren’t about to lose — before he blinked and asked, “What did my brother do?”

“Nothing,” You replied, pretending to be engrossed with your herbology textbook.

Severus rolled his eyes before plucking the book out of your hands. “Spit it out, woman. We’ve had to watch you mope around pathetically for days now. It’s irritating the rest of us.”

You sniffled. “Then just leave me alone! No one asked you to check up on me!”

“Unfortunately, we can’t.” Severus took a seat beside Regulus. With a pained grimace, he said, “So you can. . . pour your heart out to us.”

“I can’t.” You wailed. “I’m a Slytherin, we’re the worst at that.”

Regulus shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true. We’re hopeless.”

“But,” He raised his wand, “We do speak in jinxes and curses.”

“Don’t you dare!” You blubbered, wiping at your tears — but somehow, without having to express it in words, they understood, and you had felt lighter.

Still, you missed them.

“This is pathetic.” Lucius enters the common room, Narcissa holding onto his arm, watching the scene before him with blank eyes. “Black, Snape, get out, you’re only making whatever this is, worse.”

Narcissa was by your side in an instant, dabbing at your wet eyes and cheeks with a handkerchief that cost more than your life. “Hush now, darling. What’s wrong, hm? Was it that idiot cousin of mine? Don’t worry, Lucius can tell his father, and we’ll have them begging at your feet by tomorrow.”

You cried louder.

“I jest, I jest.” Narcissa softly chuckled, pulling your hair away from your face as she tugged you close. “Please tell us what’s wrong. It’s been awful seeing you like this for the past few days.”

Lucius sat on the loveseat across you, resting his feet atop the glass coffee table. “Yes, I beg you — do as she says, for the love of Merlin. But, really, what else did you expect, associating yourself with that ragtag of miscreants?”

Narcissa glared at him.

Lucius raised his arms in surrender.

Narcissa clicked her tongue before returning her attention to you, eyes softening at your tear-stricken face. She smiled, albeit sadly, as she said, “Perhaps, I know what is wrong.” She gestured to the way you clutched at the front of your shirt. “It is the matters of the heart, is it not?”

You nodded weakly. “I love them.”

“And they, you,” said Narcissa. “So, what is wrong?”

“I love them!” You hiccuped.

“Unfortunately.” Lucius handed you a tissue. “The whole of Hogwarts knows this already, so I do not understand why you’re blowing snot all over my fiancé’s robes about it.”

“They don’t feel the same way about me,” You confessed with a sob.

Lucius stared at you incredulously. “Please do not tell me that you are this daft.”

“What do you mean?” You asked him through narrowed, teary eyes, Narcissa rubbing the tips of your numb fingers from crying so much.

“I did not sign up for this.” Lucius rubbed at his temples as he stood up. “I will only say this once, so make sure you are listening. Those Gryffindor idiots are so disastrously in love with one another — let me finish, damn you — and if you cannot see that they love you too, then it is your own fault. It physically pains me to see the way they smile when you are near. They would move the earth for you, and they would shake the heavens for you.”

—

Gryffindors must have hearts made of steel, because you didn’t know how they could be so brave, to look fear right in the eyes and say: I’m ready.

Because you surely weren’t. You were headed towards your usual spot in the courtyard by the clock tower, legs heavy and swell deep in your throat. Then, you found them, looking so achingly beautiful under the sunlight, huddled together for warmth as they smiled and laughed at lame puns and mistimed jokes.

Did you have a place with them?

You were about to find out.

“Hey,” You greeted once you were right in front of them. A month of evading them, and now you were here. It was like finding a piece of your soul that you had lost.

(For them, seeing you was like finally being able to breathe again.)

“Hey,” said Lily, devoid of any warmth, and that broke you.

Bravery was poison, you decided. A trap for weak-hearted fools like you.

Sirius shot James a look before clenching his jaw. “No choir practice today? No study sessions with Cissa or Reg? Wait, no, I’ve got it. Slughorn’s dinner party? Or is it detention with McGonagall today? Does her highness finally feel up to talking to the peasants?”

You inhaled sharply. “Never mind. This was a bad idea.”

But this — is what you deserved. You had hurt them badly, so it was only right for them to stomp on your heart for everyone to see, just as you did to them many times this month.

A sob tore from your lips as you swivelled on your heels, ready to flee the scene and never show your face to anyone else ever again. Yet, before you could leave, Remus clamped his hand over your wrist.

“Why?” He stared at you, searching for anything that could explain your sudden behaviour. Remus looked at you with such emotion, tightly holding onto you — but never enough to hurt, because Remus could never be capable of hurting you. He’d die before he would ever cause you pain.

(You made him feel unafraid of the moon.)

“Was. . . was it something I did?” Remus asked, laying his wounds bare for you to see. “Was it me?”

“I love you!” You shouted in the midst of panic — you had never wanted to cause Remus to doubt himself. Your loud declaration had caught the attention of some, but you stood on, curling your fists firmly. You needed to do this.

“I love you.” You said once more, breathlessly, staring right into James’s eyes. Such a beautiful shade of hazel. “I love each one of you. And it. . . it hurts right here.” Tears dripped from your eyes to the side of your chin as you splayed your hand over where your heart rested.

“Because you don’t feel the same.”

The four of them simply gazed at you, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

You took that as confirmation for what you had been fearing all along.

“And that’s okay if you don’t,” You snivelled, unable to see clearly with the streams of tears in your eyes. You thought of how Sirius melted at Lily’s touch and how Remus was the anchor to James’s wild streak. How they all complemented each other and fit perfectly like puzzle pieces. “Just give me a few months, and I’ll get over it. It’s a stupid crush anyway, it’s my fault. The four of you are perfect together, how could—”

“Shut up,” James hissed before cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. Cherries and pumpkin pasties. He kissed you deeply once more before pressing his lips to your eyes, desperately washing away your tears with his devotion. “Was that it? We could have been doing this ages ago.”

“What?” You rasped, knees buckling at the weight of his gaze.

James only smiled, stealing your third kiss.

Sirius pulled your hand, his arm encasing your waist as you stumbled to his chest. Like James, he kissed you fervently, like he wanted to chase off all your fears and doubts. His lips were warm against yours — firewhiskey. You wanted to be burnt by his flames again and again. He held you close, committing every inch to memory.

(You were art that he wanted to worship.)

He kissed your forehead. “We love you, daft girl.”

He kissed both of your eyes, chuckling when a new wave of tears came. “We have loved you ever since you burnt my mother’s howler in fourth year, and gave us poorly-knitted sweaters for Christmas.”

“I love you,” said Sirius. “As certain as the spring that arrives after winter, I love you.”

You snuffled. “I. . . I don’t understand.”

Remus stepped in your line of sight to place his jacket over you — it was Sirius’s leather jacket, really, but Remus liked to claim it occasionally. He bundled you in earmuffs and rested his chin atop your head, exhaling in relief. “I thought it was me.”

You shook your head, clinging to the front of his shirt. “No, never. It was me. I’m sorry.”

Remus grinned wolfishly, eyes swooping down to your kiss-stained lips. (There you were, standing in the snow that threatened to melt, eyes rimmed with tears, hair wildly ablaze from the cold breeze, cheeks damp and red — but how devastatingly beautiful you were.) “May I?”

You nodded. “P-Please.”

Blueberries and dark chocolate. Remus whispered against your lips, “If it wasn’t already clear, the feeling is bloody mutual — we love you, just as the moon loves the sun enough to chase after it every day.” He grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart, you were surprised to see him holding back tears of his own. “All my life, I thought I was this monster who didn’t deserve to live. But you, all of you, make me selfish enough to want to belong here.”

He kissed you desperately, words of adoration and love falling from his lips.

Finally, your eyes settled on Lily. You waited for her reaction with a bated breath.

You hadn’t expected for her to burst into tears as she rushed over to you.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” said Lily angrily before circling you in her embrace, burying her nose in your hair. You hugged her back, drowning in her scent and warmth. “You are deserving of all the things you want, so don’t run away — if you run, we’d follow you, idiot girl.”

Then, Lily captured your lips with her own.

She tasted like happy endings.

note: 4k words and 6 hours later, here we are! let it be known i was THE poly marauders enthusiast years ago. i always wanted one with lily in the polycule so here we are. this is me manifesting my college romance, y'all. look away. anyways, i hoped u enjoyed it!! brought a smile to your face and all!! might make a part two for more fluff and to establish more relationship dynamics since this was written on a whim ;D also i planned a cute scene with peter as well, so i'll just write that in part two el em ay yo.

#james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #lily evans x reader #poly!marauders x reader #marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #reader insert #marauders imagine #hp fluff #hp angst #marauders fluff #marauders angst

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cryptotheism · 1 year

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She awoke to a boxcar full of corpses,

which was damn lucky, because it meant she now had a one-way train ticket to exactly where she wanted to go. All that was left to do was pass the time.

The student took inventory of her body. It was the first thing she knew to do in case of catastrophic injury, but the ritual of it was almost meditative now. Start at the bottom, work your way up.

Feet: Sore from walking. The leathery sheathe of mutagenic skin that ran up to her shins was largely unfeeling scar tissue at this point. They looked and functioned like a pair of high-topped hiking boots, except permanent and a part of her body. They were a rough custom job, designed for traversing the pools of acid that dotted the necrotic swamps common to her homeland. Home. Not much left of home now. She was getting sidetracked.

Legs: Also sore from walking, but less so. The musculature was hers, but the skeleton was reinforced with carbon-steel after a fall when she was little. Shock absorbing hydraulic femurs were nice for someone who did as much walking as she did. Skin was necrotizing again. Gotta get that replaced. Maybe one of the corpses is fresh enough to provide a graft.

Pelvis: Mercifully unfeeling. The surveyor had grabbed her by the hips. Skeleton was completely replaced a long time ago, but she could feel a hitch in the joint of her left leg whenever she moved it just so. An easy fix but time consuming, and not the sort of work to be done on a moving train. No necrotization here, at this point it was all synthetic. Uterus was completely original, not that it meant much. The little bundle of braided tubes that assisted her endocrine system remained stapled to her skin. The jangling was annoying, kept getting stuck on her hatchet, thus, staples. Fluids were looking a little dark, she must be dehydrated.

Torso: Felt fine, aside from the strain on her spine from carrying her things. Even with the augments, spines in general were just poorly constructed. Flesh was scarred, lots of burns, but mostly original. Both clavicles were removed and replaced with cargo sockets. She rolled her shoulders, it seemed like everything was working well. Breasts and sternum had been removed too, replaced with subdermal bulletproofing. She had spent extra for the good stuff there. One solid hand-ground piece of sloped armor. Getting shot in the lung was a lesson you only needed to learn once. Heart was completely mechanical. She even had a backup in her bag just in case. She traded the old lung and the breast tissue for that.

Right Arm: She rolled back the sleeve of her heavy coat and stretched her arm, watching the little electric motors dance. It was strong and dexterous, with half a dozen small tools built into the length of her forearm. No need for skin. In a pinch she could perform everything from network intrusion to basic surgery. Most of it was covered by the sleeve of her heavy coat. The amputation was above the elbow. She had leased her original arm for the current mechanical one when she was working on the pit crew for for an order of knights. She ended up keeping the arm.

Left Arm: She liked her left arm. She was proud of it. The trademark of a sythetimancer. It was pretty. Biological and mechanical features blending seamlessly together. Coils of veins and circuitry making intricate braids up her arm terminating in perfect Fibonacci spirals. Softly bioluminescent blood, filaments formed from calcified nerve tissue, synapse clusters under crystal clear de-pigmented bulbs of alpha-keratin. She concentrated for a moment, allowing the whirls on her palm to twist and readjust themselves with a tingling sensation. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, all recombining into butane. She snapped her fingers, igniting a tiny flame, letting it dance along her fingers for a few moments burning and repairing the flesh as she went, spirals parting and coalescing like leaves navigating the twain of a gentle river. They looked like the little shell fossils she found at the white desert when she was little. Memories. Loss.

The spirals in her hand began to twist and pulse, little corkscrews of bone began to form, growing outwards against the thin layer of biosynthetic skin. It hurt. She winced, and regained control a moment later. Careless. She shook her arm, and the flame on her finger went out.

Head: Still a bit hazy from the pain. Where to start with the head? Neck. Parched. Currently being warmed by a scarf with a length of handmade maille hidden in the folds. Rebreather was working well because it was made well. It was made well because she made it. She made it because it used to be her job. Like everyone of her strain, she had no teeth, only two solid ridges of tough bone, largely blunt and made for gnashing but gradually coalescing into a single triangular point, evolved for ripping flesh. She clacked her jaws together experimentally. Clack. Clack.

Eyes were tired and dry. There was a short mechanical hiss and a snap as she the shields over her eyes retracted back into their sockets in her cheekbones. The only light was from a pair of grates in the ceiling, but the glare nearly blinded her. She snapped the shields back into place, and the heads up display came slowly back into focus.

Originally her skin was the sort of rust color common to her strain. By now it was a deep weather-worn red, except for the parts that were charred black and rotting. Gotta replace that. If she could grow hair, she had done a damn good job of making sure it was thoroughly singed off. It occurred to her that it might be fun to have hair one day. Maybe she could make it herself. Would it grow in spirals? She looked down to open the bag of genebending tools at her waist, and her heart jumped into her goddamn throat.

Staring up at her from the pile of corpses was a pair of bright red eyes on an unnaturally pale face with no nose or lips. Which would not be terribly upsetting or surprising, had it not just said “well met” in an oddly pleasant female voice, attempt to sit up, fail, and then ask politely if its new acquaintance would stop sitting on it.

This is the first chapter of Amber Skies. The complete story can be read here, along with its currently-in-progress sequel, Emerald Seas.

#Amber Skies #Emerald Seas

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witchthewriter · 5 months

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

P.s. this is pre-relationship, when your feelings are still untold...some of the guys are still awkward and some are not :')

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄

Visiting Price in his office was a common occurance. Sometimes you brought a drink with you, other times you just brought your old tired self.

This was one of those times.

And without looking up, he patted his knee and you hesitated. But only for a moment because as soon as you saw his pen stop scratching on the paper, you stalked over to him.

You rest your head on his shoulder, trying not to think about the goddamn awful day you had. You knew John would want to talk about it when you were ready. It's one of the things you love about him. He wants to help you no matter what.

As if on Instinctive John wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you in closer. Your face was flushes against his neck and your hands cling to his other arm.

John is so warm, and makes you feel so safe. Everyday is a battle for you; because you just want to fall into his arms and kiss him until you can no longer breathe.

But you can't, because he's your superior and you don't want to jeapordise anything.

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

Wide-eyed and trying not to move. Even his breathing becomes shallower. It's lucky he's wearing a mask otherwise there would've been a bright red Ghost for everyone to see.

Continues to death glare the others, placing a firm finger in front of his lips. Reminding them to SHUT UP.

No one is allowed to talk when you are asleep in the common area. On Ghost's literal orders.

But he never thought you would actually fall asleep on him.

It was a nice feeling. One that made him giddy inside. Like ... he had been chosen for something important.

And maybe he had. This could be a way for your body to tell Ghost that "I WANT YOU!" But unless you actually tell him, he isn't going to get it - or believe it.

𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊

Warmth travels to his cheeks as he realises that you've practically clung yourself to him and fallen asleep.

He had taken you to the movies because you had some spare time on your hands and wanted to feel like normal people for once.

But halfway through, drowsiness had overcome you, and consciousness faded away.

It was easy to fall asleep next to Gaz, whose smell and gentle heartbeat felt like heaven.

You hadn't wondered if this was going to far, you trusted Gaz enough to tell you if it was. But he would never tell you that.

Because there was no 'too far.' He would do anything for you. He just didn't know how to get you to see that.

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

Oh our sweet boy Soap, he would become so goddamn giddy. His cheeks turn red as he moves ever so slowly to look at you.

Watching movies together was a common occurance. Your place or his, it didn't matter. Even the movie didn't matter - though you both argued over it relentlessly. It was a way for you both to spend more time together. A reason to say why you were late for ___

Your head had dropped a little and his eyebrows flew upwards. He would never live it down if you fell straight into his crotch area.

So he moved his arm around your shoulders and let you turn fully around to hug him.

Your face pressed against his neck, breathing in his scent.

"Tha gaol agam ort," he whispers into your hair. You only barely heard it. It means (I love you).

He only ever says it when you cannot hear him. But litte did he know you were catching on to certain Gaelic words. Maybe not at that moment, but you had better hearing than he thought you did.

𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

Did not know what to do, and in the midst of his panic, he had accidentally wriggled his shoulder. Which meant you curled up on his lap.

"Oh maus..." Konig whispered, afraid that you would wake up and freak out. But if he truly believed that, then he hadn't been paying attention to your friendship at all.

After ten minutes of the movie playing but Konig couldn't stop staring down at your curled form in his lap, he slowly and gently moved the hair from your face. Stroking your cheeks, running his fingers over your nose and forehead.

It was right then that he fell in love with you. Truly fell in love with you.

A monster and his love. That's how Konig saw the two of you.

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈

Charming, suave, flirtacious and utterly awkward when it comes to you.

He makes as much spare time as he can to spend it with you. And curling up on the couch seemed to be the best idea for today.

His large hands wrap around your form and pull you closer.

"Иди спать, малышка" (go to sleep little one) he says quietly, watching you intently as you drift into a deep slumber.

Maybe there is a gun wedged between him and the armrest, but he knows his lifestyle, and how many people want to kill him.

But that is nothing compared to spending time with you.

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐍

Coughs; yes he actually coughs and a few times at that. Why did he cough? He has no clue. Was he trying to wake you up? See if you accidentally forgot he was there?

In all honesty he was panicking - this wasn't the type of friendship that you had. It was all banter and poking fun at each other.

Someone actually asked if Keegan was being bullied a few weeks ago.

He snorted and just walked away. It was probably the best thing that recruit could've said.

It was after a long mission and you barely had time to undress from your military clothes, when Keegan barged in and held up two family sized bars of chocolate. "As a thank you for having my back out there, kid."

You couldn't deny the fluttering in your stomach. But saving face was what you two did. So you took both of the offerings and laid down in bed. "If you're having all the chocolate, I'm not leaving" "I'm not giving it back Keegan." "Looks like you have a bunk buddy then."

And the tall man climbed into bed beside you awkwardly trying to get comfortable. "Jackass," you mumbled. But a slight smile was on your lips. And within an hour you fell asleep.

When you woke up, Keegan was practically ontop of you, melted chocolate on his lips and slight snoring coming from his nose.

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒

"What the fuck," he mutters to himself as you rest your head on his shoulder on the plane.

You had both been placed on a mission for months and now that it was over, you were exhausted (to say the very least).

The whole time you were together, there had always been bickering. Especially when you were undercover as a married couple.

So you were used to the hostility of Graves (even though he barely had any anymore when it came to you).

Hence, you were way too tired to give a shit. Honestly, if he were to wriggle you off, you would clutch his arm to keep him still.

But he didn't do that. Instead he feigns annoyance and rests his head against the back of his chair. His eyes flickering over to you every few seconds to see if you were okay (if that were to be brought up, he would say that he was looking out the window).

As the time went by, and you woke up, you found that Graves had found your hand and was clutching it.

𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎

Sinks into you as well. His culture isn't so rigid as others. And showing affection means multiple things, but the main thing is that it means he cares.

Where your head lolled on his shoulder, he moved back on the couch, yawned, and pulled you down with him. Your sleeping head was rested gently against Ale's chest.

He knew about your feelings for him, and you knew about his, so this situation was awkward. He knew he had to step up and say something, but it had turned into a game of sorts. As if the first person who spoke up would lose.

But having you on his chest, smelling your hair, feeling the weight of your body on his, he decided that he would happily be the loser.

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androgynealienfemme · 1 year

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"Faggy butch was good. It accurately described my pink button-down shirts, my giggles, the fact that I talked with my hands. I once saw a tape of myself in which I made a gesture that looked more like it belonged in A Chorus Line than in the middle of an interview. Faggy butch was like genderqueer -- not quite this or that, a little of both, maybe. A friend once said to me, "I access my femininity through my masculinity."

I feel lucky to have grown up in a world with butch pioneers, and I feel lucky that I had an idea about what being butch might have meant. But instead of making me feel part of the community, these constructions of what butch was -- stereotypes really-- pushed me away from the word and identity. Instead I chose a newer term, genderqueer, which had yet to be defined; it was in flux, it was a new frontier. I may not have been butch "enough", but genderqueer was all mine to rewrite and redefine.

I still like the word "genderqueer," still claim it and own it and love the way it makes room for me, in all my complexities. But I'm coming back around to butch. Maybe its because the years of pink prom dresses are further and further behind me, maybe its because i'm learning from butch elders who talk in terms that make room for me, giggles and all. Maybe its because the people i know have no idea (unless I tell them) that i was never a tomboy. They only know me -- my short hair tightly bound chest, and button down shirts.

I think that every new generation feels the need to reject their elders, reject what came before them, and feel that they are knew gender rebels. We invent terms, we create new spaces, and sometimes, we come back to where our big brothers started -- home."

“PERSISTENCE: All Ways Butch and Femme, Coming Back Around to Butch” Miriam Zoila Pérez, On Butch and Femme: Compiled Readings, (edited by I.M. Epstein) (2017)

#on butch and femme: compiled readings #on butch and femme #lesbian #gender-fluid #genderqueer #butch #butch lesbian #transgender #lgbt #lgbtq+#lesbian lit #queer lit #trans lit

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

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“Steve, it’s an emergency. I need to kiss you. Actually, I need you to kiss me. But I can’t just do it without asking because what if you don’t want me to, and I practically attack you? So yes or no? I swear it’s for a good cause.” Eddie comes running up to Steve in the bar, panting so hard Steve can see the chest movements.

They have taken Robin to a bar out in Indy to get her laid finally. Or at least a tongue in her mouth. The girl is pent up. And it’s Steve’s job as best friend to make that happen (Robin has told him to stop saying that, ‘it is gross’). Eddie is the only other queer person they know and, luckily, has made quite a few trips to Indy to know which bars were the good ones. He tells Steve that, like Robin, he is desperate to get laid, so this is the perfect opportunity.

Steve does his best to try and ignore the burning jealousy he feels at that. Eddie doesn’t know about his feelings (hell about his sexuality), and Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn’t see him that way.

“Huh?” Asks confused, his brain struggling to process.

“Okay, I see you’re stuck on how to answer, but Steve—“ Eddie grips Steve’s shoulder, and Steve tries not to swoon. “—my ex, the extra shitty one, is here, and if he sees me alone I’ll either a) go home with him tonight and—“

Steve cuts Eddie off with a searing kiss. The thought of Eddie going home with someone else was enough for Steve’s brain to catch up to speed. Steve presses Eddie against the bar. The loud bass of the music suddenly becomes a light thrum in the background. All that he feels is the delightful pressure of their lips together. Eddie’s hands slide up into Steve’s hair as he gets pressed harder into the bar. Steve’s hands' grip Eddie’s waist and give them a tight squeeze. The idea of bruises being left behind, a mark of what they are doing here, makes Steve deepen the kiss. His tongue used to massage Eddie’s, tasting the menthol and rum on his breath. Eddie moans loud and heavy, vibrating Steve’s entire body.

“Eddie?” A voice interrupts them. Steve feels his anger spark back slightly but wills it down because the interruption is probably needed. They are very close to getting kicked out for public indecency.

“Oh hey, Ryan.” Eddie looks the blonde man up and down. He’s cute, Steve notes, but he lacked personality in his appearance. He isn’t what Steve expects from an ex of Eddie’s. He isn’t naive enough to think Eddie dates exclusively metal heads, but he expects someone to match Eddie’s energy. This guy—Ryan apparently—looks like every other guy you’d find on a Sunday in Supermart. Boring and lacking imagination.

“Who’s this?” Ryan looks at Steve pissed.

“Steve?” Eddie wraps an arm around his waist, bringing Steve close up against him. “This is my boyfriend.”

“This dude’s your boyfriend?” Ryan snorts. “C'mon baby, I know you can do better.”

Steve feels his anger finally pop. “He is not your baby. Yea, he can do better than both of us combine, but I’m lucky enough to get him. Now, you interrupted our time together, and we both know you saw what we’re up to, so don’t act like it wasn’t on purpose.”

Ryan startles backwards, “I—“

“Sorry, maybe I wasn’t clear. I meant leave the fuck right now.” Steve grits out, some of his Upside Down protection mode popping out. Ryan scatters quickly.

“Jesus, Steve, that was amazing. I’m sorry I had to make you uncomfortable with that.” Eddie’s eyes find his and cuts Steve off before he can protest and explain no, he really did like that “—and you never even let me explain reason b, by the way! Reason b is b) he would probably humiliate me in the middle of the club.”

Steve nods at Eddie but has one track mind at this point. He grabs Eddie by the face this time before crashing their lips together once again. This time Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth as they both get lost in the kiss.

Steve pulls back ever so slightly and talks directly into Eddie’s mouth, “Sorry. I think he’s still staring. Needed to do more.”

Eddie, with swollen lips and a kissed-out face, looks around the bar to find nothing. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

Steve smirks and pulls Eddie by his belt loops so they are flushed together. Steve leans into Eddie’s ear and nibbles at his lobe. “Hmmm, you’re right. I think he’s actually in the bathroom. Maybe we should kiss in front of him there.” Steve whispers hotly.

Eddie’s brain, which has short-circuited much like Steve only minutes ago, finally catches up. Eddie groans, his face collapsing into Steve’s neck. He licks a stripe up Steve’s neck all the way to his mouth. “Fuck. Yea, baby, I think I saw him too. Think kissing, though, won’t be enough. We might need to up our game.”

Steve nips at Eddie’s lips, “I was hoping you would say that. Guess I just know how much you love your games, Eds.”

They meet each other for one last searing kiss before rushing to the bathrooms to share a very tight, very heated stall.

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prettyboykatsuki · 6 months

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TEXTBOOK CITATIONS ON IMMORAL SEX | S. GETOU ft. F. TOJI

✮ tags ; porn no plot, afab + fem!reader (good girl, little girl once sarcastically by toji, pretty), mild degradation (dirty girl, a bitch in heat), professor!getou + security guard!toji, dubcon, imbalanced power dynamics, age gaps(10+ years), mild coercion / blackmail, spit play, wet ‘n messy sex, face-fucking, oral (f +m!recieving), spanking, restraints, dirty talk, creampie / unprotected sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 10.6k

✮ synopsis ; You’re willing to do anything to pass your intro course. Whatever it takes. No cost is too high.

✮ a /n ; a comm for the beloved @fushironi !!! thank you for commissioning me and letting me post your work. if anyone is interested in a commission i will be reopening them at some point this month hopefully

A SIDE NOTE: THIS IS VERY CONSENSUAL!! but the relationship is inherently unethical so the dubcon tag is there. and this is. just smut. no plot no brain. just porn.

You're failing ethics.

You're failing ethics and failing it badly.

You refuse to take all of the blame for your failures. Some of it is your fault, but most of it is the fault of your good-for-nothing academic advisor. You're not sure what they get paid for, since it seems like there's an elaborate prank going on between staff and you're the only one not in on the joke. In what universe is it possible, plausible - that an individual could get paid for doing everything but their job?

Apparently this one. But whatever.

In your last semester of university, on the edge of graduating and totally on the right track - you're informed that you're not going to be able to graduate in the expected time frame because you are missing a single course. You learn this information about two days before registrations close, which means all the meaningful classes contributing to your major are booked and busy. Everything is full, and everything that isn't doesn't contribute to your degree. As in, even if you took it - it wouldn't give you what you need to graduate.

After a full-blown mental break, a long night crying yourself to sleep in your dorm, and an egregious amount of begging - you managed to snag yourself a class. It wasn't ideal by any stretch of the imagination, and it did put quite the strain on your schedule. Straight out of your 8am lab - you had to speed walk to the other end of campus and make sure you made it to lecture. The lecture time itself was an hour and twenty minutes, attendance mandatory, twice a week - which meant you had to delay lunch again till afterwards and learn on empty fumes till 1 pm.

Still, better than not graduating at all.

You'd hoped (expected?) that the course itself would be about average in coursework. For one, it's an intro class. Intro to Ethics or PHIL-2467, with Professor Getou Suguru. Secondly, the actual listed coursework seems simple enough. Discussion boards, reading analysis, and a few papers made up for most of the grade. The expectations were outlined as clearly as they could be.

You didn't really know anything about Professor Getou at the time, only that his ratemyprofessor described him as somewhat strict but mostly good.

In any case, you'd consider yourself lucky. And in an effort not to freak out about your circumstances, you'd practically chanted to yourself each night the same mantra. Everything was going to be fine. You've taken nearly 120 hours of coursework, and a little extra time won't kill you. At the start of the semester, you fully believed it too. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and utterly naive.

How could a single course torment you like this? You hadn't the faintest clue. At first, it struck you as odd that the course felt as difficult to grasp as it did. The readings were complex and extremely long but always said a lot of nothing. Much of your grade was dependent not only on assigned work but participation and discussion. The paper criteria was only simple on the surface, but proved to be too lengthy to comprehend and too difficult to fulfill.

Long story short, the class was kicking your ass. And the ass-kicking slowly progressed into a failure so bad it was laughable. You're in your final year, and that means taking a lot of difficult and specified courses in relation to your major. You were at the point where your classmates were starting to thin out, and you were seeing the same group of people you had as a freshman. As far as prioritizing goes, a 3-credit hour course that isn't technically meaningful to you falls to the very bottom of your priorities. You're more concerned with things like job-hunting and finishing your capstone and all the stuff related to your actual career.

So you've been half-assing all the papers and exams, falling asleep in class, and lowkey straight up ignoring the weekly discussion boards.

However, above everything else, the worst part of your class is your professor. Professor Getou Suguru. PhD in Comparative Ethics with a Masters in Cognitive Science.

You didn't really have a chance to speak with any of your friends about Professor Getou, despite it being in your best interest - because you only knew you had the class two days before it started. You'd come to learn only two things about him after attending. First, he's a complete hardass when it comes to grading any assignments, and second most of his merit comes from the fact he is ridiculously good-looking.

He can't be any older than his late thirties or early forties, which means he's young. Young enough to be attractive but old enough for most of your peers to thirst for him in unhealthy ways. He's at least a decade and a half older than you, and by god does he make it clear.

What they don't tell you about college is that there's nothing that can make or break a class more than your professor. Everyone is always too worried about everything else, about getting their schedule right - that they often overlook this basic tenet of college life even though it's so crucial. The worst part is that while various websites rating your professors are helpful, you won't truthfully know how you feel about a professor until you've met them in a classroom. You've had professors with lower ratings be absolute angels, and professors with higher ones being some of the most useless in your entire academic career.

You were hoping that Professor Suguru would be what you expected. That his astounding 4.5/5 would be a meaningful assessment of his character, that he would be tolerable and polite and understanding and that your semester would be smooth sailing because of it.

But of course, of course - that couldn't be further from the truth.

You don't know at what point exactly your relationship to Professor Suguru became as sour as it is right now. There's no real pivotal movement where mild intolerance became full-blown and outright distaste. But part of it, you know, stems from the fact your beloved professor is a snake.

You have no idea how no one else notices it. It genuinely feels like you're the only one who catches the subtleties of his behavior. There's just something about him that's a little…off. The irony isn't lost on you. He's an ethics professor, but something about him makes alarm bells go off in your head. A walking red flag, though a handsome one. He's off in a subtle way, but more than that - he's very openly smug to every single one of his students. It's just that no one else seems to really care. The air of pretension that surrounds him in his every movement is suffocating. Maybe that's part of the charm, if the way girls flock to him after class is anything to go by.

Even so, you just know there's something deliberate about his casual cruelties. He always seems to pick out the quiet kids, and from the beginning of your semester to now - he always, always manages to single you out of the crowd of students. In every class, in every discussion, in every chance he has to make you out to be a troublemaker he will.

Yes, you don't really have any idea how it started. But you've been keeping a long record of every single act of personal terror that damned man has been inflicting on you since the start of the course, and you're not unconvinced that your shit grade is in part because he wants to see you grovel in front of him.

The first time it happened - you figure it was a coincidence. He had called you out in class after you missed a discussion board. You hadn't done the reading, and it wasn't obviously humiliating but it singled you out all the same. When you fumbled coming up with an answer, he gave you a smug smile that so quickly morphed into a fake sincere one, you wondered if you were imagining things.

The second time was when you came in late after a walk of shame, and Professor Suguru greeted you by the door by asking if those were the same clothes you wore yesterday. After being completely mortified by it, the once dark gaze immediately rescinded to his usual fake-calm self. It was suspicious, but not the concrete evidence you needed.

And the third time was after your first project of the semester. Your grade was lower than you deserved, and you knew it - so you went to his office hours to bitch and moan to get it bumped up. But he wouldn't budge, saying that he thought his assessment was accurate. Made a smug face as he told you he just didn't think you thought your points out through. Unfair critiques shielded by flowery words and polite gestures. It was that moment that cemented the dislike, though it wasn't the start.

The beginning of the end, so to speak.

Ever since then, you've harbored nothing but dislike for him. You can see past his pretty face and you don't see anything good. You've had unpleasant professors before, but none have ever targeted you so specifically. None of your previous professors, even at the worst, seemed to hold such an unbelievable personal grudge.

You're all alone, fighting an invisible battle.

The worst of it though, is that you simply couldn't be bothered to give a shit about it for most of the semester. You had way too much going on, so you just had to put up with the inexplicable dread of attending that class until you had to deal with it again eventually.

And after months and months of avoiding the issue head-on, you're at a point where you can no longer do so. Your grade is officially below a C after bombing your last quiz, and there's only 5 weeks left until your semester is over and you're barred from graduation.

And you have no fucking idea what you should do about the situation.

There's a subtle pit of dread in your stomach as you enter your first philosophy lecture of the week.

For the first time since the start of the semester, Professor Getou doesn't antagonize you as soon as you enter the door. In a strange way, this makes you kind of uncomfortable. He gives you his usual fake smile, but the fact he's gone out of his way to leave you alone makes you feel like he's planning something.

You brush your paranoia aside as you take a seat in the back of your class. You don't have any friends in this lecture, at least not ones you do more than greet. You sit closer to the back of the lecture hall, tucked into a corner and up a few steps.

The charms on the end of your book bag zippers click together as you take your seat. You open your laptop - pulling up the lecture slides to pretend to study while opening 2048 to play while Professor Getou goes on about his business. You're hoping he's going to go easy on you today, and that his lack of interference is a sign of mercy.

More people start to trickle in and the classroom is the usual amount of packed it is by this point in the semester. The last day to drop passed last week, so the number of students has decreased despite it being spring semester.

Your professor starts his lecture as soon as the clock hits 11:30am. You look up from your computer, watching him as he sets up his slide deck and waits for all the conversation to settle before he begins talking.

He catches your eyes briefly before he continues, but he holds it for long enough that you know it's intentional. You frown at him, and it almost looks like he laughs - but you can't be sure your mind isn't tricking you into thinking that.

"Good morning everybody," His voice is smooth and pleasant - hair tied up neatly. He's wearing his usual attire. Black slacks, and a loose-fitting white shirt with some kind of canvas shoe. "How's everybody hanging in there? Good? Bad?"

He takes a look around the room, gauging peoples replies before chuckling.

"Not in good shape huh? Stick it out, a few more weeks and you'll be out of here. Today, we're going to continue on into section five of our coursework - the shortest of all of our other sections," He grabs something that clicks the slide into the next one, a few images next to a wall of text "We have a lot to cover in the last few weeks, but I want to start with a refresh of what concepts we've been learning for the last few weeks."

The swiftness in the way his eyes land on you is comical in its predictability. You give him an uncomfortable half-smile as he calls your name and brings the class's attention your way. A few looks of pity don't go unnoticed. You stiffen, straighten your back as he says your name slowly before asking.

"Do you think you can tell me, what are the four core structures that define modern Japanese philosophical thinking?"

There's real, uncomfortable weight to his gaze that makes you choke. You pull back slightly.

"Uhm, well - there's Shintoism, Confucianism, Buddhism and western ideology. Primarily German idealism."

He gives you a smug look, the same one you always see before it fades off to an uncannily brilliant smile. Not a sincere one, because when is it ever - but there all the same.

"Someone's been studying hard huh? But you are correct. We've spent the majority of this class going over the first three. How Shinto tradition, Confucianism, and Buddhism were experienced in Japan - isolated from Anglo-Saxon influence for the first few centuries of its establishment. We've also studied the vague historical timeline of these influences, mostly focusing on modern philosophy. We've covered Edo period philosophy as a precursor for what we know and understand now."

You can say a lot about Professor Getou, but more than anything - he has a certain way of commanding the room's attention that never lets you get completely comfortable. He has an air of charisma you've never seen in your life and being in close proximity to it makes you feel like you're being swept in by waves larger than life.

You fidget almost anxiously as you wait for him to continue his lesson.

"Our last few weeks are going to cover the culmination of your previous lessons, and what dictates both national morality and the hierarchy of modern Japanese social mores - Bushido. The way of the Samurai."

Professor Getou continues with this slide deck as he outlines Bushido conceptually. From its existence as a moral code in late 12th century Japan, to the many misconceptions about the strictness in which it was adhered. He starts the lessons like he starts many others, explaining misconception and myth before touching the surface of the subject at hand.

It's in his nature to advocate for the whole truth. From the start of your classes to now, Professor Getou always places the same emphasis. If only that truth is unable to be understood without opposition. It's like his whole being is constructed by it, opposition that is always radical and jaw-dropping. You've known this about him since he voiced his open critique for certain ideas about social welfare and about the emphasis of national morality.

You can't be certain what he really believes - only that he'll voice his views as critically as possible, if only to stir the room.

"Bushido is the heart and soul of modern and postmodern Japanese ethics, but it remains critically undefined despite its usage and citation functionally. Other philosophical schools of thought have strict definitions - Bushido is evolutionary in nature. Inazo Nitobe is primarily credited with the modern and popular interpretation of Bushido, but has received criticism for its obvious influence from Western ideas, and its comparison to chivalry."

Professor Getou sits back on the edge of his desk with a look on his face.

"The tendency of Japanese philosophy to lean into metaphysics does not align with the many values of infrastructure and military present in the culture now, but I'm not going to critique the philosophy for you," He skips to the next slide, your last project of the semester on the wall "For the sake of brevity, I'm going to have you write a paper on one of the eight outlined ideals in Nitobe's work, and I want you to reflect on that ideal in your paper."

A collective whispering erupts in the class as people stress about the assignment of their final few weeks. Not unexpected given the circumstances. Professor Getou doesn't flinch as he waits for the room to settle down.

"This will be your final project in this classroom, and will count as your final grade. On one hand, doing a good job on it means you have nothing to worry about for the last few weeks. On the other it's make or break," He locks eyes with you again as he says this, startling you as his smile grows coy and inauspicious "So if you're in need of a good grade to pass you, I'd recommend coming to see me during office hours or during one-on-one time so I can get you the grade you need. We'll discuss more at the end of class, but we've gotta get through more lectures so you can get an idea of what you can pick."

He gives you one another look, another pointed and obviously direct look, before he proceeds on with his lecture. It gives you a bad feeling in your stomach, and maybe you're being too self-centered thinking he's focusing too much on you.

But you can't help it, swallowing down your uncertainty as you continue on with the lesson.

You need to pass this class.

___

You meet up with Nobara after the fact.

She's a good sounding board for your problems as usual. Where you're always looking for the most civil solutions, she's good at giving it to you straight on what you should do. She's no bullshit and you like that about her. Whenever you need a kick in the ass or an ounce of courage, she's the person for the job.

So after meeting up for lunch, ranting again about Professor Getou (for the hundredth—no, thousandth time), and whining about his weird behavior, you're expecting some semi-sound, if not mean advice on what you should do.

"Have you thought about just fucking him?" She says instead, her voice full of sincere boredom. It comes out so casually, like she's relaying the news cycle to you - and you can't help but be utterly shocked listening to it. "Not that it was my first suggestion, but I mean…it's getting ridiculous."

"Hello? Where the hell did that come from? What do you mean just fucking him?"

She gives you a sideways glance of disdain as if you were the one saying something unreasonable. She leans forward into her hand mirror, gluing on her eyelashes for her afternoon date with Maki. She scoffs when she realizes your shock is genuine.

"Are you serious? Does this not read as an elaborate scheme for this total jackass to fuck you?"

You're flabbergasted. Surely she's not being serious with you.

"Nobara."

"Haah? Tch. Don't make that face. It's a gross abuse of his power but well, he's not ugly. If he were any younger of a professor, would you like… not assume that was the end game?"

"Nobara, he's a professor of ethics. His whole career is ethics."

"Yeah. Like. The perfect cover for wanting to screw his wide-eyed, desperate students. He's a hot, young professor. Not my type but you get me. Don't you think it's a little naive to assume his personal vendetta against you is shit, I don't know… totally lacking that motive? Think with your brain, not your tender little heart for a minute, okay?"

"It's not that!"

"Really? Just like your relationship with Mr. Fushiguro is totally platonic?"

"I said it was one-sided, not platonic."

"You're my whole heart and soul, you know that right? I didn't freak on you when you said you had a crush on Megumi's deadbeat dad. You're my salvation from the idiots we call guy friends. So I'm saying this with love, and not as the complete bitch you know me as - you're being dumb."

"Nobara, are you seriously saying you think this whole thing is about him wanting to," You can barely even get the words out. You're not that much of a prude but god. "Wanting to have… sex with me?"

"Yeah. What else would it even be? I think an awful man is interested in screwing you - a hot, capable twenty-something. Are you stupid? Is that like, sooo impossible for you to consider?"

"Well it's not the first place I would think to go, that's for sure."

"And that's your whole problem. Don't get me wrong, again, totally gross. Is it like.. a total abuse of his authority? Yeah. But that doesn't have anything to do with you personally. If I'm right, and you fuck him - you get a good lay and to graduate. And you need both."

"Nobara!"

"Don't be mad, I love you, okay? But I'm thinking about your future and your prospects. There's nothing wrong with it on a technical level."

"That is so untrue and you know it—"

"Look. I don't like it. I think it's a weak move and kind of corny and gross. But you've been planning your big graduation for years. And it's not a bad opportunity, and you're not a complete idiot. You said before that he's never inappropriate with the other girls right? You might even be the only one. As far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for you to not get laid and pass."

"Oh, so the student-teacher thing isn't reason enough?"

"Not if you wanna graduate it's not."

The two of you remain at a stand-still as his words trap you into a corner. How the hell do you even deal with this information? And how on Earth is she so sure of herself anyways? You think you're pretty good with signs, at least about things like this.

But it doesn't feel like flirting. He's never flirted with any of the students in class, despite how much they seem to fawn over him. Could this weird, psychological dance you've been doing for the last twelve weeks be some sort of unspoken foreplay ritual?

The more you think about it, the less it seems implausible to you. There's a wave after that, some cross between impending doom and shameful arousal blooming up inside of you as everything hits you all at the same time.

When you return to reality after being trapped in your thoughts, Nobara gives you a mindful (almost pitiful) smile and shakes her head. You frown at her in reply, squeezing the bridge of your nose.

"If it were like literally anyone else, I'd totally tell them it's a bad idea. But it's not like you're going on to date him, and you're what - 24? because of your gap year so you're not a preteen like some of the freshmen in your class. I just don't see any reason not to go for it."

You tamp down the small voice in the back of your head, encouraging you to do - and instead ask her a follow-up question.

"...Do you think I should attend his office hours tomorrow, yes or no? I have to email him by tonight to get the one on one."

"Yeah. Yes. And shave before you go."

You decide, for the sake of your sanity and everyone else's - to ignore Nobara's odd implications about what Professor Getou wants from you and to attend his office hours.

(That's a partial lie, you figure - given the fact you did shave, and shower before attending. You're wearing something kind of nice underneath. But you still don't think he wants to fuck you. It's more of a safety precaution than anything else.)

You made the game plan last night that you would go, present your idea, and then beg him to be kind to you during the grading process. You even developed a list of things to sob and cry about it to generate something of a sob story if everything went awry. You've forsaken your pride. The only thing that you need to get out of this meeting is a passing grade.

And that is, of course, by any means necessary.

Fearing for your life, the state of your mood improves as you approach the building hosting Professor Getou's office. Of all of the people you interact with semi-regularly on campus (all of which you are quite fond of), Nobara wasn't lying about your affection for campus security guard - Toji Fushiguro.

He's an older man. Older than you by double digits, and from what you can tell - older than even your professor. You've been fond of him ever since he brought you back to your dorm after a horrible break-up with your ex as a sophomore. He's got a rough edge, and there's plenty of unverified rumors of his past. You know that he has something of a criminal record too.

But for all of those rumors, and for all the things you hear about him - he's been one of the highlights of your campus experience. You've had a one-sided school-girl crush on him ever since that night, because you were sober enough to catch his body and how it feels. He was strong. Not in an average way. He made it so effortless when he was carrying you home in his arms - and it's not the first time you've seen him lug around things at least over 300 pounds like they were nothing.

But attractiveness aside, he is uncharacteristically good at cheering you up. He's funny and witty, all while maintaining a cool facade. He's endearing in his own way too, and you're a little head over heels for him though you'd never push yourself to make the first move.

Still, when he sees you come towards the building - he greets you with a wide smile. The scar over his busted lip - split open and welcoming as you run up to him for a hug. He's normally patrolling around campus, so it feels lucky to catch him where you least expect.

He wraps you up with a single arm, your feet temporarily lifting from the ground before you get put back down again.

"Mr. Fushiguro, what are you doing here?"

"I got moved over here since there's been some rumor about someone stealing from the labs upstairs. So I'm on lock up duty for this building 'till it gets fixed up and solved," He says, voice as smooth as ice "What about you sweetheart? It's gonna get dark out soon."

"Ah, I have office hours with Professor Getou today. I need to consult with him about a paper."

"That right? Just gonna be you in there, then?"

"Yep. I'm gonna go in there and beg him for a good grade on our next assignment. So for the sake of my sanity, please wish me luck?"

Mr. Fushiguro tilts his head to one side, grinning.

"Wouldn't that mean you graduate sooner instead of later? Can't wish ya luck on that." He says, making you flush and letting the feeling linger before continuing "Just kiddin'. A pretty face like yours should do you just fine. Knock 'em dead."

"I feel a lot better about it with your encouragement." You say honestly. Mr. Fushiguro gives you a laugh.

"Treat me to something if my luck makes any difference. And hurry in. Last thing you'd wanna do is be late."

You nod, wide-eyed and dazed by how charismatic he is before you rush into the building. It's silent, given how late in the school day it is. Most people have already gone home, with the exception of the other poor souls likely chasing down their professors for the same reasons as you.

You feel an overwhelming sensation of dread as you encroach upon Professors Getou's office. There's no one else in the close vicinity, only a few closed classrooms and students who are passing by the small corner where his door resides - most of which are making their way to leave.

You decide to take a deep breath, calming your shaken nerves before knocking politely once on his door and entering the room.

Professor Getou's office looks like how you'd expect it to look. It's clean, and sleek - and lacking almost completely of items of personal effect with the exception of his desk. It's the first time you've ever been inside of the room before, but it smells distinctly of him. He has that same scent surrounding him, like flicks of nicotine and a hint of bergamot. Sweet with the taste of metallic bitterness, like blood and sugar.

You feel the back of your throat bob as you see your Professor sitting at his desk. It's lacking his usual gracefulness. His shirt is unbuttoned down by three entire buttons, and his slacks seem looser. Most notable is his hair - classically long, now in a loose bun with pieces falling all on his shoulders and rolling down his neck.

You think of what Nobara said to you earlier in the day alone, a strange and overwhelming sensation of lust and embarrassment making it difficult for you to open your voice and talk.

It's Professor Getou who greets you first. He looks up from whatever he was reading and looks at you from where you stand awkwardly at his door. His smile widens, though it's just by a little.

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd be here. Looks like you're right on time." He says first, sitting up in his chair but not bothering to gather himself in any way otherwise "Come on in and sit. I assume you're here to talk about your grade."

You sit across from him hesitantly, hands folded in your lap as you put your bag down on the floor.

He studies you quietly. There's a long stretch of silence, where neither of you do anything but sit in each other's company.

He breaks the silence first.

"So, while I have a guess," He says, elbows on his desk "Do you want to talk to me about what you're here for?"

You've practiced the dialogue in your head so many times now. What to do and how to say what you need too, but the words seem to fizzle out completely when it's time to really say them. Leaving nothing but uncertainty, you open your mouth only to close it once again.

"Uhm," Your voice strains trying to make the words out into a coherent sentence. "I came to talk about my paper. And my grade, like you mentioned in class."

"So you decided to heed my advice? Good girl, that was a smart choice," You try not to be taken aback by the pet name - unsure if it's as inappropriate as you think it is "Do you know what virtue you want to cover?"

"I thought I would pick uhm, righteousness - and then pull from some of the Western ethics we learned about. Making uh, connections between deontological ethics and duty and how it relates to the defined idea of righteousness," You explain nervously, an uncomfortable laugh bubbling out of your throat "How practicing duty and righteousness relate to each other."

"Hmm. Sounds like you've had time to think about it a little, then."

"I uhm, haven't finished the reading but I did take a look over my section to see if I could make it work."

"I think you have something to work with. You'll need to straighten out the thesis of your paper into something more tangible. I know that's an ironic ask. But I think it's a good idea," He gives you a brief glance, studies you with eyes. Snake-like. Something coils inside of you, tickles and brushes against your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise "It seems like you have something more to tell me, though."

Do you? Is there anything more there? The answer lies indifferently on a scale from obviously to no. nothing at all and it haunts you that he's able to pick it out.

"It's just well. Uhm. You know, I don't have the best grade in this class so I was more prepared to go down with my grade. You approved quicker than I thought you would."

"Your grade is pretty abysmal. Did you come in here planning to beg?"

You refrain from an instant yes, even though it's what you feel. Something about the way he says it makes your stomach clench. Your heart quickens. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as you laugh uncomfortably.

"Something like that? Uhm, or at least try to hash things out between us. I know our relationship over the c-course of the semester has been kind of sour so I…"

He cuts you off.

"Has it?"

Your brain stutters to halt.

"Uhm. Yes?"

It's unpredictable, utterly and completely - the way he reflects on your words like you've said something incomprehensible. You aren't sure if that's sincere. You can't be sure if any of the words out of his mouth are. But he doesn't seem like he's lying. Your mind flashes to Nobara, and you find yourself speaking before you can stop it. It comes out like a flood.

"I j-just always assumed you singled me out in class because you didn't like me? I don't mean to be accusatory, though."

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea," He says, shaking his head "I don't harbor any negative feelings for you at all."

"Oh," You say, eyes falling down to your lap again "Right, then."

"You must be desperate for that passing grade, hm? If you're meeting with a professor you think hates you."

You glance at him.

"Well, yes. I want—need to pass this class. I've already planned my graduation for this semester."

"And you'd be willing to do anything for that, is what you're implying?"

"Yes," You say, with a sudden rush of unwavering confidence "Anything."

"Let me ask you another question, then." He lets his elbows rest on the edge of his table, a familiar coy smile "Do you think there's any other reason for why I've been paying special attention to you, aside from me disliking you? You're a smart girl, so I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out."

The weight of his words don't go unnoticed. The air feels heavy as it hangs between you. He couldn't be implying it so directly could he? Your mind drifts back to Nobara's warning to you, and your breath hitches. Your eyes widen as you glance up for the first time and give him a look of mild distress.

And he smiles. His grin widens as soon as it dawns on you.

"Seems like you've reached an important conclusion," He says, casually - as he sits up in his chair and leans back. Stretched like nothing could get in his way "Why don't you share with the class?"

"You," Your voice is a nervous tremor. You must be crazy. You must be completely out of your mind "...To sleep with me?"

"See? I told you, you're a smart girl."

The question is a burning one. One you've been wanting to ask since you started thinking about it last night.

"B-but…why? And why me? A-and,"

"You have a tendency for being combative. You know that? An air of defiance. I can tell you're a little older than your peers. A little wiser, and a little more knowing of when to ask for help," Getou outlines, staring you down "And seeing you with that sense of desperation was exciting for me. I'm a man of simple tastes. At my age, I know what I want."

"And I like when tough, combative, clever women turn into babbling, desperate, needy girls. I'm quite fond of it, actually."

He's detrimentally serious. Your stomach flips.

"Do you want to pass this class?" He asks you, an air of confidence surrounding him. You close your eyes, unsure if you can call it coercion when you're feeling so terribly willing about it.

"Yes. I need to pass."

"Then come up here," He gestures, widens his legs and leans back in his chair "And sit."

Your body is burning. You don't know if you're even really in the situation, or if you've daydreamed it into something impossible. Something phantom moves you. Stands you to your feet shakily before walking in short strides. Professor Getou looks at you from where you stand over him.

His hand brushes your outer thigh, patting it.

"Sit."

So you sit. You spread yourself and straddle your professor - and the reality dawns on you the minute you touch what you're doing. You haven't gotten laid in a bit, and he's nothing like anyone you've ever slept with. You feel out of your element. You get the impression he's a man, a grown one. There's a confidence in him that looms and looms and looms, overshadowing any of your doubt.

He's sexier up close. There's the faintest trace of smile lines on his expression as you look down at him. He guides your arms to loop around your neck, and holds your hips with his hands.

Then you feel it, almost instantly - something hard and bulging pressing against the seam of your pants and against your crotch. He's already half-hard and he hasn't even kissed you. He grins at you lazily, like a cat with cream.

"I'll pass you as soon as I put it in," His hands are so big - long, slender fingers gripping your ass "And give you extra credit when you cum for me. How's that sound?"

You feel dirty. It's all happening so fast. Almost vulgar, but it's impossible to feel cheap. To believe in the wrongness of it when Professor Getou is so undeniably sexy. Wrong, on so many levels, to do this for the sake of your grade. Or just in general. Yet you want it, yearn for it, find the culmination of all your annoyances melting as he graces you himself.

"I wanna pass," You say, uncharacteristically nervous about everything. You add the next part a little quieter "...I want it."

"What do you want, exactly?"

"Want you to fuck me." You admit, against your better judgment "Please?"

"Gonna make a real pretty mess out of you," He says, voice smooth and serene. You look down at him. His knuckles brush against your jaw, on your cheek before his thumb holds on your lower mouth. His fingers push past the edge of your lips, sliding against your tongue and gently running along your teeth. He gags you on it, so slightly - enough to startle you but not enough to hurt. You feel spit pour from your lips.

Thick messy strings of drool drip down the sides of your mouth. You want to back away in shame. But there's an air of intention behind the gesture. It's deliberate, the action - the mess and how it runs down your neck. Before you know it, he's kissing you in that same state.

Professor Getou kisses like he's done it before.

His hands grip on your ass as he kisses hot and heavy. Self-assured, he sucks and bites at your mouth - sticking his tongue in and mixing his saliva with yours in a way that feels downright dirty. Yet it makes you throb, white-hot flames licking at the back of your thighs. The sparks of arousal crawl up your skin.

Your nerves tighten as Professor Getou cups your face with one palm, kissing you with fervor. You melt into him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Been thinking about what you would look like bent over my desk all semester," He says as he pulls away, looking on with admiration at your messy complexion "You wanna go on ahead and show me?"

Another wave of embarrassment washes over you, but you find yourself standing to your feet. Sliding your sweats off down your legs - your lower half is left bare with the exception of your feet. You lay or stomach on his desk, the cold wood sending chills up your whole body and your stomach and tits lay flat and squishy against the hard material. You stand, shoulder width apart, and present yourself in front of him.

"That's what I like to see," His voice is rich and deep as he speaks. You can feel him inch towards you, pulling you apart with his palms before his hand comes down on your ass in one hard motion. The noise echoes against the walls of the room "See, I knew you could listen well when you had to."

You don't say anything in reply, pressing your cheek against the desk.

"W-what do I call you?" You ask, your voice trembling. You feel his fingers against the seam of your panties. He snaps the cotton waistband against your skin before humming thoughtfully, a light tap to your ass.

"Getou is fine. Suguru is too. Sir if that makes you more comfortable."

Getou makes a show of fondling you, though you can't see it - you can feel the way his eyes nearly swallow your naked lower half. How his fingers touch and prod all of your sensitive places, with some kind of keen observation. Everything Getou says is like that, keen and particular.

"Such a pretty pussy on you. Would've been such a waste if you didn't come to me."

You don't bother to ask what he means by that. Behind you, there's a noise. Of a chair rolling back, and the dull thud of knees hitting the ground. Before you know what's happening, there's a face dangerously close to your clothed pussy. The minute you try to squirm, there's a tight grip keeping you in place. He takes a deep breath. Without any real hesitance, you feel his tongue lick across the clothed material.

In one fell swoop, he pulls your panties to one side and kisses your clit without any more real introduction. You're gripping the edge of the table you're bent over as you feel his tongue slide against the wet folds of your pussy, making your voice cry out involuntarily. Normally people would urge you to be quiet, but you got the feeling he didn't care if anyone heard you crying out for him. You get a second wave of intuition telling you he might even like it.

A sensation of bliss washes over you as he sucks hungrily at your cunt. It feels good enough to be holy. There's such immense expertise in it that you can't help but succumb to it completely. The warm, heavy muscle gliding over sticky folds.

You're so lost in the pleasure, your mind completely blocks out the intrusion. The sense that would detect another person in the room disappears completely. You only know because of Getou, the way he stops and scoffs. It forces you to blink your eyes open. He speaks before you get the chance.

"What are you doing here?"

You recognize the voice instantly, and your heart drops through your stomach.

"Thought I heard a ghost howling," Mr. Fushiguro says, his voice is rougher and deeper and older "Turn out it was just a little girl wanderin' into the woods."

"If you can see I'm busy, why're you still here?"

You can't help but feel the second wave of overwhelming shock as you sit there, naked and unafraid. Still, they stand like nothing is wrong. Chat like they know each other somehow, but you have no idea in which way. All you can focus on is the bubbling, nauseating shame.

"Oh god." You voice, but both others ignore. Mr.Fushiguro speaks first.

"This one is off-limits, Suguru. What kinda professor goes around fuckin' their innocent little students?"

"Just the one, Mr. Fushiguro. And I'd like to get back to business."

"Ah, no way I'm letting you off the hook. I could report this y'know? Make headlines. Ethics professor coerces student into sexual activity. It'd be big.

Your heart drops.

"Fuck off, would you? Does she look coerced?"

A beat of silence. "Nah. Not with the way she's twitchin'. But it's not fun if I just let you go. How about you tap me in and I'll keep your little secret hm? She's gotta cute crush on me already."

Your heart flounces around in your chest, a muffled noise of shock escaping your lips as you squirm to move but are held, still, so firmly in place. Your expression and feelings all go through 5 stages of grief before settling at dumbfounded. They don't especially ask for your input, but you hear Professor Getou behind you.

"Fine, if it'll get you to shut up. And I'm fucking her first."

Strange. Nothing about today makes any sense. You don't miss the almost childish sense of competition in Getou's voice that changes your view of him in an instant. Humanizes him in the strangest and most unrecognizable ways. It lacks his usual virtue.

Mr. Fushiguro walks up in front of you, imposing. He's grinning, a well-worn smile on his face that you know. He helps you up, and you keep yourself upright on your arms as he grabs your chin with his palms. You look up at him wide-eyed, unsure of what to do.

"Dirty fucking girl aren't ya?" He says, though he almost sounds like he's impressed with himself

"You into older men or is it a coincidence you're screwing 'im for your grade?"

You're speechless, and you moan a little pathetically as Getou doesn't stop eating you out. This only seems to make Mr. Fushiguro even more excited. You look up at him through wet lashes, unsure of what to do.

"Don't mind either way, just curious. Guess I'm a little sad 'cause I thought your little heart eyes around me made me special," He tells you this looking down at you, eyes locked. You can tell he's just teasing you, and it makes you twitch "But I guess that's not true, is it?"

"You're different. I uhm. Well it's true at least."

"Yeah? You're just letting both of us fuck you 'cause you're like a bitch 'n heat?"

You flush. He gives you a smile and a well-meaning laugh that makes your body feel warm with heat.

"Mind if we're a little rough on you, sweetheart?"

You shake your head.

"Good. Stick your tongue out and open your mouth for me then."

You listen, oblige the instructions almost obediently. Your face is still covered with spit from before. You watch idly, intently - as Mr. Fushiguro pulls his cock out from his black pants. The loose material covers him well, but as soon as they're down past his thighs - the outline of his cock borders on intrusive. Your eyes widen, fluttering and unfocused because it's hard to think about anything while feeling such intense pleasure.

But Mr. Fushiguro is captivating as he pulls himself out for you. His cock is thick and heavy, protruding but too much that it can't stand up on its own. Weighed down by gravity, you stare at it wide-eyed. It's the size of your forearm, so thick you can't possibly imagine what it feels like.

Your heart stammers.

"It won't fit in my mouth." You say, gasping for air as if you're already suffocating on it "You're—you're so huge."

He laughs with an edge of snark. You blink at him in complete seriousness, taken aback. He lets the tip of his cock tap the plushness of your cheek before pressing against your lips. You stare at him, almost afraid.

"Of course it'll fit," He says in confidence "Just gotta make sure you're relaxed. So relax, sweetheart, and open your mouth for me."

Hesitantly, you open your mouth wide. You feel the corners of your lips stretch around the intrusive, thick head of Mr. Fushiguro's cock. The taste of sweat and skin is invasive and heavy, violating your senses. Just the tip and it barely fits in your mouth. You try and concentrate, sticking your tongue out and curling it around the underneath of his cock, focusing on sucking just the tip. He groans above you, a hand on the back of your head. He doesn't force you down, but you can tell by the twitch in his fingers that he wants to.

"Look at you," He says, his voice coarse with restraint and desire "You're drooling on my cock while you're professors busy eatin' your pussy. Thought you were an innocent girl, but now I don't know what to believe."

He says this as he eases more into your mouth, slowly letting you adjust. He rocks his hips back and forth until you relax. You open yourself up, trying to focus on blowing him.

But a hand comes down on your ass, hard and heavy - making you yelp. The noise is muffled but audible. A short squeal, you can't turn your head to look

"Don't you think you two are getting too comfortable upfront without me? I'm the one who decides your grades."

"Maybe you're not doing good enough for her to care."

You can feel a strange sense of competition between them, but you're too occupied to ask about it. How do they know each other, and for what reason do they seem so automatically hostile? It bothers you, but you can't think about it too hard.

"That's not true. Her pussy is soaking fucking wet." He punctuates his words with a harsh smack against your cunt, the force rippling through your as you bend forward and choke "Almost as messy as her face."

He's quick, again, to latch himself to your clit. He flicks it with his tongue, licking it mercilessly as your brain starts to fog up with desire. Like he's trying to prove a point, you moan around Mr. Fushiguro's cock as your pleasure starts to thrum up again. The back of your legs tense, trembling as a knot begins to uncoil in your lower stomach. The cock in your mouth moves too, using the distracted moans to ease himself even deeper into the wet, arm cavern of your mouth.

Your head feels heavy, body weak as the both of them use you to their contents. Your stomach starts to stir as a familiar feeling of euphoria claws at you.

You cum for the first time like that, your body pressed against a wood desk - restrained and under careful watch of two men. Your whole body explodes - white, hot nerves fraying off and ricocheting off your ribs inside of you. Your insides shake as the wave of an orgasm washes over your entire body. You gasp, clenching down hard and gasping as tremors of orgasm pulse and push through your whole body. Something in you ignites as you grip the edge of the desk for your life, trying to keep yourself upright as Getou pushes you through the orgasm.

You've barely recovered when Mr. Fushiguros pulls out of your mouth, pressing his spit-soaked cock against your face and cheeks with a smile. You let it slide against your tongue, eyes fluttering open as your face gets covered in precum and saliva.

"You look so fucking filthy right now, you know that? But it looks good on you. I'm dying to fuck you."

"Mr. Fushiguro," You groan. He clicks his teeth.

"Toji's just fine sweetheart."

You whimper helplessly as you ride out your high. Behind you, your professor pulls away. You peek behind you to see him, flush as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Toji looks down at your frazzled expression with a grin, teeth showing as he cups your jaw a second time and slides his cock back in one go. This time, he pushes his cock in the base - keeping your throat around him with a hand on the back of your head.

"Just focus on me for now, baby. Focus on sucking me off, yeah? Just like that, easy easy. He's gonna open you up. Stretch you nice and make your pussy all sloppy. That's what you want right?"

Getou leans over you, the weight of his body looming as you feel slender fingers slide through your sticky folds. His middle and index brush against your abused clit, rubbing a few circles into it before pulling away. He grabs your arms and positions them behind your back, gripping them in one hand to keep you restrained. You squirm against the gesture, unable to get any leeway as he holds you down. Then you feel his fingers move, middle finger catching on your wet hole as it trembles and sticks. He opens you up like this without any warning.

His middle finger goes first - delicately intrusive as your pussy widens to accommodate him. They're so much bigger than yours. Just one feels like two of your own. You push back out of instinct but Getou doesn't let you move. He buries himself, pushing in and out until he's able to fuck your pussy all the way down to the knuckle. Once there's no longer any resistance, he pulls back and makes room for another. The sensation is duller, lets you clear your head and think even as Toji rubs his cock on your face and fucks your mouth in short ruts.

Not enough to make you choke, but enough to smear something hot and nasty all over you.

Professor Getou repeats the process with his pointer, pushing and stretching and opening until you can't fight it anymore. With two fingers, he scissors them trying to make your insides soft enough for him to take you.

"You're stretching out for me like it's nothing. You must be turned on, hm? Like getting all your holes used like this? Getting your face-fucked by a man old enough to be your father?"

Toji laughs harshly, smacking your face lightly, enough it doesn't hurt but enough to make you feel it.

"She loves it. She's clenching down on you tight ain't she?"

"Sure is. All this for a grade. Maybe I should've bullied you about it a little more first. Since you're so eager."

"Gonna give her extra credit for this?"

"I should deduct points for the fact you're even near here."

He laughs good-naturedly at this point, and you're still having trouble making sense of their relationship. You manage to speak for the first time in forever, voice barely there as you go to question them. You're not expecting any solid answers.

"How do you two know each other?" You ask, before Toji starts fucking your mouth again

"Goes a long way back. And we're still on bad terms, so congrats on bringing us together, sweetheart. Kind of an expected reunion really."

"He's been working here since Professor Gojo and I were students here and we knew him from before. A long story. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

The burning question is quick to fade out of your mind as you feel your professor's clothed bulge rest against your cunt. You moan, a clipped needy sound as you nearly beg him to fuck you. Toji bends over you this time, reaching back to spread your pussy open by grabbing your ass. You can feel the grip of his hands, strong and assured.

"She's gettin' impatient. Give it to her."

"Don't need your help with that." Getou spits, irritation sounding in his words.

"Consider it an apology."

The air of tension is there temporarily, before Getou pulls his cock from the confines of his boxers. You can't see it, eyes squeezed tight as you work your mouth and tongue Toji's length. You can feel it though. He makes a show of rubbing his cock against your puffy, sore cunt. You get a feel for its shape as he pushes it between your thighs and lets it cling in between your lips. Professor Getou's cock is longer and more narrow, but it curves upright. It's hard, throbbing between your legs. Whining helplessly you wiggle your ass again. You feel increasingly restless about needing something inside of you. You're still bound though, completely and utterly unable to move. Toji's hand comes down heavy on your ass as you do, clicking his teeth in faux irritation.

"Don't fucking move unless you want my handmark on your ass forever," He says, his voice cool and forgiving "Impatient."

Getou must feel something inside of him merciful enough to keep you waiting. Even with all the stretching and prep, the minute you feel the head of your cock push through - something inside of you snaps. It's still so big, still too much, still reaches a part of you so deep you didn't know it was there. The position itself - still being on your stomach, makes it reach so much farther than other positions. The raw, skin-to-skin contact leaves your tummy fluttering, skin prickling with heat. Your top is pushed up enough to expose your lower back and your skin is pulsing. You feel like your whole body is on fire, suspended between men so much older than that want nothing more than to fuck you.

Every time you try to wiggle away from the sensations, Toji's hand comes down heavy on your backside. It doesn't matter how minuscule the movement. If he gets the idea that you're going to try and pull away, he spanks you hard enough that the room echoes with the sound. Your skin tingles, phantom sensation left before as you're held open and made to take your professor's cock - obedient and wanting.

Inch by miserable inch, it takes forever to take him down to the base. Your toes curl, eyes shut and mouth sloppily trying to keep up with the cock in your mouth and just barely succeeding.

He groans behind you, shuddering

"That's incredible," He praises, and it feels so good to hear him saying something so overtly kind you don't know if you want to laugh or cry "Your pussy is fucking incredible. Shit."

"You hear that? You gotta. Pussy's twitchin' like crazy. Ass is too, how cute."

"Feels sho good," You slur, brain clear of any and all rational thought as a string of saliva drips down your chin "Please fuck me, please,"

"You heard her teach."

Toji lets go of you and returns back to where you are. He pulls his cock away from you, instead holding you up and cupping your mouth open. He kisses you, after everything - with all of his pre-spend in your mouth before spitting into it harshly and kissing it again.

"Such a pretty face you're makin' right now." He says, something of a warm and unprecedented affection to it "So excited to get your pussy filled up."

He leans you on him, lets you wrap around his midriff, and squeeze tight while he pets the back of your hair in a strange streak of affection. You don't know what to make of anything. All you can feel is the long cock pounding into you without any mercy. Razor-sharp thrusts, nudging against your swollen g-spot and pounding into your cunt with immeasurable force. A man so much older than you is fucking you, pounding your pretty little pussy, and turning you into a complete mess. He's meant to be a mentor to you, but he has his cock imprinting itself inside of you over and over and over.

Your stomach feels hot again, but some other feeling takes you over as Toji cradles you - watching you just as intently. He talks you through with confidence you can't entirely understand.

"Yeah, that's it. Tighten up for him, just like that. Feels good doesn't it? I know baby, I know."

You whine out in Toji's arms as he talks you through it. Behind you, you feel Getou's grip hold you tight as he pistons you. The sound of his thighs smacking against your ass is noisy, almost as noisy as your pussy. Slick wet, sounding each time he thrusts.

"I'm not gonna last like this, shit." He pumps into you a few more types before his hips stutter to a halt. He cums with his cock buried deep inside of you, filling you all the way to the brim. You feel his white, hot seed fill your belly, cock twitching as he unloads and makes your legs shake.

A sense of emptiness overwhelms you as Getou pulls out, landing a hit on your ass as he shakes. He kisses your spine.

The two of them switch places without communicating with each other about it. Getou pulls out, and away - coming back in front of you and picking you up in his arms as Toji positions himself behind you. He spreads your cunt out with his fingers, examining the seed left over with a light laugh.

"Gonna fuck into your sloppy little cunt, give you another load where you need it and make you cum." Toji says, not hesitating at all. You feel your breathing start to quicken as he takes the same positions as before.

Toji doesn't neglect touching you as his arm curls around your waist, calloused fingertips brushing against your clit before his cock pushes into you. Your pussy takes him much easier, but even so - Toji is just so thick, you can't help but feel him all over again. This time, Getou has you in his arms, holding and guiding you. Your hands are curled around his bicep and lower spine as you're held up.

Toji's thrusts are slower, but just as rhythmic - focused on bringing you to another orgasm. It's duller this time, the sensation more focused and spread. Toji is so big you feel it in your hips, your entire lower half tingling as he pumps his cock in and out of you. He gives you all of his attention, staving off his own orgasm as Getou encourages you with his own words.

"Gonna cum again, pretty? Take another man's cum in you right after me? You want to, right? Take it all in, every drop. You've earned it."

You feel your insides tighten again, for a second time - in a miraculous span. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts as both sensations work in tandem to bring you closer to your edge.

Your nerves fire off a second time as you push yourself to the limit. Toji fucks you through another orgasm with ease, thrusting with each tremor until you've ridden out your high. His own orgasm and chase come not long after that fact.

As soon as you've gone totally limp underneath him, he sheaths himself as deep as he can. Bent over you, he cums hard and deep, filling you to the brim a second time.

There's a brief moment of silence as Toji rides out his high, where all three of you sit in silence.

You find yourself limp as you lay there, Toji pulling out and Getou slowly letting you down before you look up with a tired expression.

"...So, did I pass?"

Your professor laughs harder than you've ever seen him laugh.

"With flying colors."

#toji x reader #getou x reader #toji smut #getou smut #writing tag #jjk x reader #dubcon cw #age gaps cw #blackmail cw #coercion cw #lmk if i missed anything

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artemismoorea03 · 9 months

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DPxDC or Marvel: What Do You Mean 'You Didn't Know'?!

Poindexter's introduction episode gave us a horrifying and frankly underused plot device with a single quote. "You have all our powers on the human plain."

The argument could be that he meant the "basic ghost powers" but what if he didn't? What if he truly meant all of their powers.

Danny was under the impression that Sidney had meant "basic ghost powers", but when he had over twenty powers under his belt and more forming each day he started to wonder if maybe Poindexter had meant more than that.

But for now he didn't tell anybody. After all he was already considered 'overpowered' by the Team given the fact that he wasn't even 18 yet. He was powerful and it was clear that some members of the team feared and didn't understand that power. Be it because they didn't believe in Ghosts, didn't understand what a 'Halfa' was or were just generally freaked out by a child having powers that made immune to most their attacks.

His powers scared them and more than once he had heard the comment; "We're lucky he's on our side." and; "We made the right choice recruiting him so we could keep an eye on him."

Sure, he hadn't told them about his super hearing either but still - rude. Other members of the team had super hearing why assume that Danny didn't?

It isn't until one of these new powers develop in the middle of an important battle. Which wouldn't have been a problem if the new power wasn't some kind of EMP attack that wiped out all of their coms and plunged everything into complete darkness. People had gotten hurt - minor injuries but still.

"Why didn't you tell us about that power?" Superman/Captain America pressed as Phantom sank down in his seat uncomfortable under the gaze of every member of the team.

"Because I didn't know I had that power."

"What do you mean you didn't know?" Asked Flash/Hawkeye. "Seems like a pretty big thing not to know about."

"I didn't know because my powers are still developing." Phantom mumbled, "I get a new power every couple of months or so, it just happens sometimes. It's normal."

"It's not." Multiple members of the team said and Phantom shrunk down more.

"It is for me... I didn't know or I would have warned you guys..."

"Do we at least have a timeline for how long these powers are going to keep 'developing'?" Wonder Woman/Black Widow asked.

Phantom shook his head. "No. Dying and being brought back half-way doesn't exactly come with a manual. But, if it makes you guys feel better I'll probably have control of that EMP power by the end of the week. At least before the next power forms."

Oddly enough that sentence did not in fact make anybody feel better.

#dp x dc prompt #dp x marvel prompt #my prompts

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gglitch1dd · 2 months

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Cheating Dilf Izuku END

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Warning: Angst

[PART 3] [Cheating Dilf Izuku Masterlist]

You hated hospitals.

You sat in the waiting room, your own minor injuries attended to long ago as you sat beside Momo. Horikoshi Hero Hospital had seen enough of you and you doubted this would be the last time you saw it. You could barely keep it together as you prayed and prayed. You were shaking like a leaf in fear.

Toshinori, you and Kane had just made it out when the building collapsed. It was terrifying because you had no idea what had happened to Izuku but you had to get the kids to safety and to a healer as quickly as possible. Reinforcements and first responders arrived quickly on the scene and luckily with a healing quirk, getting Kane’s concussion healed was easy but Toshinori had to be taken to the hospital. Once you had the boys safely in the arms of paramedics, you had run back with cuts and bruises from the collapse, to where you last saw Izuku.

You couldn’t watch the TV as your legs bounced up and down. A video of you pulling at rubble trying to find your husband under it all played. With your direction, they had managed to find him alive thankfully but you were forced into an ambulance to get checked out.

With Jigsaw found and pronounced dead on the scene, your husband was claimed a hero.

However, he was fighting for his life in theatre.

Tenya sat with you, Momo and Shoto. Mina and Hanta were looking after the boys along with your mother-in-law, allowing you to wait here till your husband woke up. Toshinori was asleep in the paediatric wing, his arm being in a cast and he would be allowed to go home tomorrow. You felt like you could barely breathe as you sat there waiting. It had been longer than ten hours and you were just hoping that maybe, maybe by some miracle, Izuku was still alive.

You hated what he did to you, you hated that he cheated and he didn’t talk to you. But you were far more afraid of losing the one man who had loved you more than himself, more than anything. You needed him a lot more than you cared to admit and the thought of losing him made you sick to your stomach.

You loved Midoriya Izuku and if he died, you were going to kill him.

“Mrs Midoriya.” At the sound of your name, you looked up as the leading surgeon of the hospital walked over to you.

You stood up from where you sat, looking to him for answers and so did your friends. You looked to him as you held your hands to your chest. “Is… Is he…” You couldn’t get it out, in fear that your hope would be false placed.

He nodded his head. “He’s alive, Mrs Midoriya.”

You let out a relieved sigh as you nearly stumbled back. Shoto and Tenya held you up right, making sure you wouldn’t fall. A tear left your eye as you nodded your head, indicating that you were fine, as you lifted up your head to look back up at the doctor. You motioned for him to continue which he did.

“Your husband’s a fight Mrs Midoriya. He was very lucky that there was little internal bleeding and most internal organs were not injured nor punctured in the collapse. However…” He hesitated as he looked to your friends.

You instantly could tell that this might be a sensitive matter so you looked to Tenya. He nodded his head as you stepped away from them to walk a bit of a distance with the doctor. “Yes?” You asked softly.

He looked at you sympathetically as he led you towards your husband’s hospital room. “When the first responders had found him in the area you had indicated, they had found that a considerate amount of rubble had fallen on his legs. We tried our best and although we managed to save them we later found out a spinal injury that, well…” He hesitated and you knew what that meant. Your face fell at the implications. “Unfortunately, Mrs Midoriya, your husband is paralysed from the waist down.”

You were speechless at what was said to you.

Paralysed? As in-

“So he’ll never…” You found this hard to say too.

The doctor nodded his head. “He won’t ever walk again.” He confirmed your suspicions, making you still. “The hero commission has offered that we do stem cell treatments to try and rectify what has happened. It would take a while but previous treatments and trials have a sixty percent success rate in succeeding and giving him a chance at walking again.” You swallowed down hard as you followed the doctor, knowing that that would be the best course of action, however you knew how much being a hero meant to Izuku. “The technology and science of it all is still new and it does not work on everyone but the hero commission has high hopes it will work for him. We just need the go ahead from you and we can start. The sooner the better.” Finally, you both stopped in front of a door. You hesitated and motioned to it. He nodded his head. “You can sit with him. The anaesthesia should be wearing off but it’s still not sure whether or whether not he would wake up.”

You nodded as you put your hand on the door handle and walked in, closing the door behind you. The room was dark despite the dim lights as you walked in. The beeping of the machines unnerved you as you walked closer towards him. You had gotten used to it and you hated that fact. It always reminded you of those moments where Izuku would have some close calls but he always tried to minimise those ever since you started your family.

You finally got to the side of his bed where he was. Izuku lay there sleeping, most cuts and bruises healed by a healing quirk and for the most part he looked fine, besides a bandaged arm, the IVs connected to him and the oxygen mask. However, as your eyes went down you had to bite back a sob. Of course, you couldn’t see the scars over the blanket but just knowing that he would most likely never move his legs again, made you have to cover your mouth.

You shakily sat down at his side, the seat beside him that was positioned just for you. You were glad that the Horikoshi Hero Hospital was the only hospital in Japan that allowed twenty-four hour visitation for family, which meant you didn’t have to leave his side.

You were scared to take his scarred hand.

He had taken this sacrifice for you. He had done this for you and your boys, so that you wouldn’t have to live in fear of Jigsaw escaping again or for another sacrifice to be made. He had basically sent himself as a martyr to die for you, when he knew you hated him for what he did. When he knew that you would barely even let him touch you in private, let alone acknowledge anything he did.

You bit back your sobs as your head fell. He was trying so hard with the boys. He tried so hard. He took time off and stayed all day with Koda and took the boys to school and picked them up. He gave you time to breathe. He would gift you flowers every day, do the laundry, take the boys out for ice-cream after school. He was trying so hard, and you shut him down at every turn.

You were just… you were so angry with him. You loved him so much but you were so disappointed and he knew that.

Yet he didn’t stop.

He respected everything you said and did. He blocked Ochaco’s number and went to a therapist every week. He slept on a futon in your bedroom instead of on the bed because you weren’t comfortable with him there. He always tried to speak to you about things that were insignificant despite you shutting down every conversation that wasn’t about the boys or the house.

He was trying.

And you hated that you loved him.

And now you hated that you hated him despite loving him all the same.

“Izuku…” You let out quietly as you kept your head down as you grasped his hand in yours. “You’re so fucking stupid.” You let out tightening your hold on him in anger. “How could you sacrifice yourself like that? And leave me all alone? I can’t-” You felt yourself choke up. “I can’t raise the boys without you. I could never do that. I’m not as strong as you think I am. Did you think I would be alright because you thought I hated you?” You asked gently.

You felt a sob vibrate out of you as you rested your head on the bed. You sniffed as you tried to pull yourself together but you couldn’t. You cried. You sobbed and you shook your head. You brought his hand to your face. He always loved to hold your face, to hold your head, to touch your neck. To feel you. You wanted Izuku to feel you. You wanted him to hold you.

You wanted your husband.

“I don’t!” You confessed. “I don’t hate you! I was so disappointed that I wasn’t enough for you! But I couldn’t bring myself to leave you. I love you. Just… just please…” You sobbed as you held onto his hand as the quiet beeping of his heart rate monitor went off in the room.

…

“Am I in heaven?” The voice took you by surprise as you stiffened and looked up from where you were sitting. Izuku was looking at you with a tired expression, his green eyes were gentle and soft as he looked up at you. “Or is there an angel sitting next to me?” He asked with a smile.

You paused as you took in what he had just said. You couldn’t help but laugh as you dropped your head shaking it. “That was horrible.” You laughed.

“Too much, my love?” He asked tiredly. It took him only a second before he realised. “Shit- sorry I mean-”

“No, It’s okay.” You tightened your hold on his hand as you smiled at him. “It isn’t too much.” You hesitated to ask. “Did you hear everything?”

He hesitated. He shook his head. “No, not at all.” He denied, clearly lying to you.

You closed your eyes in embarrassment. “You heard everything didn’t you?”

“Every word. To be fair, you aren’t a very quiet crier.” He confessed making you groan. He chuckled as he lay looking at you, his eyes never leaving your face. You felt him move his fingers over your knuckles. “I’m glad you’re here.” He spoke softly. “I didn’t think…” He let out a soft scoff. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d live to see you again, nevertheless to you sitting by my side.”

You fought a smile to your face as you shrugged. You wanted to say so much to him but with him looking at you, you found it hard to do so. “We still need to go to Okinawa, remember?” You spoke softly.

You watched as his eyes widened with a light in them. A grateful and relieved smile on his face. “Really?” He asked with a whisper. “Do… do you mean it?” He asked.

You nodded with a chuckle. “Yes.”

He leaned back against his pillow closing his eyes with a smile on his handsome face. “I’m so glad.” He whispered. He lay there for a moment before turning back to you. “So hit me with it, what bones did I break this time?” He asked with a humerous smile.

You did not smile.

Instantly he noticed that you weren’t smiling. You hesitated as you looked down away from him. You weren’t sure how you were going to tell him this nor what you were going to say. You looked to him with a broken expression. You carefully stood up and adjusted his hospital bed so that it could incline so he could sit up a bit.

Izuku gave you a weird look. “Y/N, what’s this about?” He asked with a chuckle. “I’ve heard it all, okay. You don’t have to-” He stopped talking for a moment. He let out a soft scoff before looking down again. “I… Why can’t I feel my legs?” He asked as he looked to you. You didn’t say anything as you just stared at him. Izuku froze for a second before looking back down at his legs. “Y/N… Y/N I’m serious. I- I can’t-”

“You injured your spinal cord.” You whispered, finally answering him. However, that was all he needed to know the severity of his injury.

It was deathly silent for that moment despite the sound of the machines.

Suddenly you noticed that his hand was shaking. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. His eyes wide as he looked at you but then he looked back down at his legs. Suddenly you noticed the rapid sounds of his heart rate monitor and breathing rate.

“Izuku, Izuku you have to calm down.” You told him as you held his hand tighter and moved to hug him.

However, his heartrate didn’t calm down and only started to climb.

He shook his head as tears started to fall from his eyes. He bit back cries as he held onto you with hands, gripping onto hard as he tried not to fall into shock.

“Is everything alright!?” Running in were two nurses.

“He’s awake!” You shouted at them. “Call the doctor.” Immediately one of them ran out while the other one ran off somewhere. “Izuku, breathe for me. Just breathe.” You told him as you held him, putting a hand to his face. “I’m here. I’m right here, my love. Just breathe.”

The other nurse came back and stuck a needle in a bottle he brought. He took a quick measurement before moving to your husband’s IV and sticking the needle in. “Give him a minute, he’ll calm down in a bit. It’s okay Mr Midoriya, everything is going to be fine.” The nurse said as he placed down the needle and moved to grab another blanket.

It did indeed only take a minute before you noticed his heartrate start to gradually start to subside. His grip on you eased as he lay back but you held onto him. You saw the tears that left his eyes but never heard a cry. He looked at you with a broken expression.

Your shoulders sagged. “Izuku, I’m so sorry. You won’t be able to still be a he-”

“I won’t be able to dance with you.” You looked down at him confused as to why he said that. Izuku looked at you with a sad expression. He blinked as more tears fell. “How… how can I play outside with the boys? Or train Toshinori?”

You just looked at your husband confused. Why was he thinking about you and the boys when his career that he had spent close to three decades cultivating, would be over.

“Don’t worry Mr Midoriya.” You turned around to see the doctor who had just entered your husband’s hospital room. “With enough physical therapy, you’ll be able to walk and move no problem. We just need your consent on something…”

After explaining everything that had happened, his injury in the T12 area of his spine and certain adjustments needed to his life, Izuku seemed pretty quiet but he understood and thanked the doctor for everything he had done to ensuring he lived. It was a tough first few hours. Izuku had nerve pains as well as discomfort and whenever he did manage to fall asleep he’d wake up in a panic due to not being able to feel his legs anymore.

Unfortunately, they had to give him sedatives so that he could sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. In that time you managed to go home and get a shower as well as pack some of Izuku’s comfortable clothes and items before going to see the boys, picking them up to come to the hospital. You had left them in the waiting room for a moment with Inko, making sure Izuku was alright with seeing them right now before letting them in.

“So dad will need a wheelchair? THAT’S SO COOL!” Hero let out loudly as he looked up at his father.

Asahi adjusted his glasses with a disappointed sigh. “Not really. Dad’s still normal, he just can’t use his legs right now.”

“So… he can’t climb the stairs anymore?” Hero blinked before his green eyes widened as he looked at his father excitedly. “DAD! Can we get an elevator in our house?”

Izuku leaned back with a chuckle against a pillow as he looked down at his boys that surrounded him. He was glad that the boys seemed to be taking this well, surely better than he did. “If mom says yes.” He stated optimistically.

You let out a chuckle as you shook your head. “If we did, then only dad can use it. Not you.”

“Aww. What?”

Asahi turned to his younger brother offended on his father’s behalf. “Dad’s the one who’s paralysed not you!” He reminded his younger brother.

Koda sat next to him on the bed, holding the little bunny teddy bear, staying cosied up to his dad with a frown. He looked up at him. “You okay, daddy?” He asked softly.

Izuku let out a soft laugh and ruffled his green hair. “I’m fine buddy. I’ll be alright.” You could tell that he was forcing out everything he was saying to make the kids feel better. “I just need some practice walking again and I’ll be back in shape in no time.” He gave one of his ProHero smiles that made others feel at ease.

Inko looked to her son with a sympathetic expression but nodded her head. “Alright boys, we should let your father get some rest. He needs it.”

“Aww.” Hero frowned with a pout as he was herded out the room. “But he’s spent the whole day asleep.”

“No. He was in surgery.” Asahi reminded him.

“Same thing.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. But surprising you was the door being thrown open not even a minute after they left as your eldest son, Toshinori was at the door. His good arm opened the door as he stood there in sweatpants and a t-shirt, his arm still in its cast.

His eyes were wide as they locked onto his father. “Dad…” He let out quietly. Seeing his father awake and alive had his breath choking in his throat. Before a stuttered breath came out of his throat and soft sobs as his eyes filled with fat Midoriya tears. “DAD!” Toshinori practically flew into his father’s arms as he wrapped his arm around him. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop him! I thought you were dead a-and I- I can’t be as strong and as brave as you! I thought- I thought-!” He let out half angry but half sad.

Izuku’s eyes widened in surprise, but his expression softened. He put a hand on top of Toshinori’s head of curly green hair with a chuckle. “Toshinori…” At the sound of his name, your eldest son looked up at Izuku who for the first time since getting told the news, held a genuine smile on his face. “My perfect sprout, I’m proud of you.” You watched Toshinori’s pupils shrink before expanding as he bit down on his lip trying to stop himself from crying. “You did your best and you held your own for as long as you could. You’re stronger than me, when I was your age I couldn’t even control One for All, let alone make sure I didn’t break my entire body using it. You are so much more braver and stronger than you think. I’m so proud to call you my son.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched Toshinori sob in his father’s arms, his arms around Izuku as he took in everything his father said. You couldn’t help but notice the tears in Izuku’s eyes at the interaction. You knew that somewhere deep inside this helped Izuku’s inner boy too.

It took a month before Izuku was released from hospital, but in that time your husband had been pretty… quiet to say the least. He barely spoke to you and according to the nurses and his new physiotherapist, he barely spoke at all to them either. But after so many tests and therapy sessions were done, the doctors finally cleared him to go home and had told you of all the physiotherapy appointments and everything that would be a new adjustment in his life.

The first thing Izuku noticed when you had wheeled him into your home was the few changes as he went by. His eyes widened at the sight of the biggest change so far. “You… got…”

“AN ELEVATOR!” Hero cheered as he motioned to the glass elevator that went up to the second floor of your home. “Mom said yes.”

Izuku turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged. “It seemed like a good choice.” You told him honestly. You turned to Toshinori and gave him a slight look.

Toshinori instantly understood the look and gave a curt nod, his arm fully healed from the healing quirks and after resting it from the surgery. “Hey guys, lets go play Just Dance!”

“OH YAH!”

“That would be fun!”

Toshinori carefully took Koda by the hand and led the four year old away from you and his father so that you could both talk. You turned forward but Izuku was already pushing himself into the elevator. You stepped inside with him, allowing the both of you inside. It was silent amongst the both of you. Neither one of you saying anything.

Finally the elevator door opened allowing Izuku to adjust himself in the wheelchair but allowed you to push him out onto the second floor. He didn’t object to where you were taking him. You took him to your bedroom, allowing him to see all the adjustments you had made. You let go of the handles of his wheel chair allowing him to venture on by himself. He pushed forward as he looked around. For one thing, he noticed that the bed was lower to the ground. He also noticed something on the wall.

He wheeled himself closer to it. His eyebrows furrowed. He motioned towards it. “What’s this?” He asked softly.

“It’s an intercom.” You stated as you walked over to it. You motioned to all the buttons. “There’s one that leads to every boys room as well as to downstairs. Just in case. It’s easier than shouting if we need them or if they need us. I’m hoping I won’t regret this decision.” You stated with a nod of your head.

Izuku let out a soft scoff but wheeled himself away from the wall and headed straight towards the bathroom. He noticed all the new additions that made your bathroom wheelchair accessible. He looked around at it all.

“What do you think?” You asked as you stood in the middle of the room.

Izuku was silent as he looked around the room before turning to look at you. He turned to face you. “Y/N…” He looked around, speechless for a moment before his eyes settled back on you. He seemed a bit uncomfortable but he forced a smile to his face. “I think this is a bit too much. You didn’t have to do this, really.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “But I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Izuku-”

“I appreciate this, I really do.” He told you, closing his eyes briefly. “But I don’t deserve this. Really, just… you didn’t have to change your room like this.”

“Our room.”

He shook his head with a chuckle. “No, your room.”

You let out a sigh as you closed your eyes for a moment before opening it. “Izuku, I am not going to watch you sleep in another room or on the floor.”

“Y/N you shouldn’t be doing this. This!” He motioned down to his legs with an angry expression. “This doesn’t change anything! You shouldn’t be doing this, any of this!” He motioned around the room with a wide gesture of his hands. “The last thing I want to do, is subject you to this too!”

You let out a scoff. “Subject me to what, Izuku!”

“To a life like this!”

“Like what!”

“Y/N!”

“Izuku, this is exactly what separated us last time.” You took a step closer to him, your eyebrows furrowed as you frowned down at him. “I need you to communicate with me, to talk to me! What is so bad about this!”

“Y/N, I won’t have you spend the rest of your life like this! You deserve better!” He shouted back at you, eyes torn in agony as he stared up at you. “I broke my vows.” He put his hand to his chest, his left hand gleaming with the wedding ring you had gotten him. “I broke my vow to you to respect you and stay loyal to you! I promised you, when we got married, that I would be a man worthy of your love and devotion! Of your respect and submission. I promised you that and I broke it!” You froze were you stood as you saw tears well up in his beautiful green eyes, his eyes filled with so much pain. “I promised myself that I’d spend the rest of my life trying to rectify that, just to earn a sliver of your love and trust again, but look at me!” He let out with a pathetic laugh as he motioned to himself. “I’m half a man!”

You shook your head as you took a step closer to him. “Izuku…” You let out quietly.

“Y/N, I can’t-” His voice cracked as he looked away from you, his face pink as he tried to control his emotions. “I can’t even stand by myself let alone do anything! I will not ruin your life any more than I already have. The last nine months have been an agony for me. I lost you, I lost the boys, I lost my legs, I lost my career, I lost our son…” He hung his head in front of you, his hands gripping the railing of the wheels as he looked down away from you. You could see him shiver with so much pent-up emotion within him. “I will not let you turn yourself into a caregiver and ruin the beautiful life I was supposed to give you, more than I already have.” He whispered.

You were silent as you looked down at Izuku. You couldn’t help but feel the tears burn at your eyes. You crouched down in front of Izuku, taking his hands from his side and into your own. You looked up at the beautiful man in front of you. You gave him a weak but genuine smile as you looked up at his face, fat Midoriya tears streaming out of his eyes.

You rubbed your thumbs over his scarred knuckles. “Izuku…” You started out softly. “You are the same man right now than you have ever been, if not more so.” You told him honestly. “I do not see you any less of a man just because you’re paralysed or need help. I made a vow to you on our wedding day to stand by you in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, in life and in death and I meant that. I have yet to break it and I don’t ever plan on doing so. I don’t care if I have to help you shower for the rest of our lives, Izuku.” You let out with a soft laugh and a bright smile. “I don’t care if you aren’t the Number One hero anymore. You sacrificed yourself for me and for our son. That is the strongest thing a man could ever do.”

Izuku closed his eyes, tears falling down his face as he bit down sobs, wielding himself to try and not break down in front of you. He didn’t deserve your words and yet he was getting them. He just wanted to disappear.

“Izuku, I am your wife… and you are my husband.” He opened his eyes to look at you. You reached up to cup the side of his face with a gentle smile. “You’ve gotta do a whole lot more if you want to get rid of me.” You joked. He let out a soft scoff as he put a hand to cover your own as he buried his face in your hands. His grip on you turned harsh as he cried and you reached up and hugged him. You held him as you tapped his back soothingly. “We’re going to do this together, Zuzu. Even if we got to take baby steps first. We’ll get there.”

“Announcing, his excellency, the Number One ProHero of Japan, ProHero Deku and his wife Mrs Midoriya.”

You pushed Izuku’s wheelchair onto stage, the both of you stepping into the limelight. You were dressed in your family’s colours of white, gold and green. Izuku was dressed in a matching coloured suit as you took him to the centre of the stage. There were claps given but honestly, both of you couldn’t hear it. You were sure Izuku couldn’t.

This would be the last time he would address people as the Number One ProHero of Japan, and as an actively serving hero. You parked his wheelchair before putting a hand to his shoulder. He looked up at you, a cleanly shaven face but age still present in the grey hairs and small wrinkles. You nodded your head. He smiled as he put a hand over your own briefly before accepting the microphone as you took a step back. You always did that when he had to make an address.

It would always be the Number One hero and his wife standing at his side.

Izuku drew in a stuttered breath as he already felt tears in his eyes. “Twenty years ago, I became the Number One Hero of this country, it has been a rank that I have carried with honour and one I do not take for granted. I never thought this would be how I retired, I was hoping to have a few more years on me before I would let my eldest son take over my agency. However, life doesn’t always go as planned. So it is with a heavy heart that I officially announce my immediate retirement from on duty hero work. I would like to thank Japan for allowing me the honour of being at your service. If I could stand and bow, I would. Thank you, deeply.” He bowed his head and at the waist, far more than he should have and you did the same.

However, you saw the applause he received and knew that everything he had ever done was worth it, even now.

After that, you stirred Izuku down onto the floor where he received a lot of best wishes and gratitude. All that he was worth. You could tell by the smile he adorned on his face, he was keeping everything together until he could go home. He was still finding it rough to be in a wheelchair but he had made great progress. He was hoping to stand for his speech but that just wasn’t a reality right now. But he was getting there, deservingly so.

“You know Izuku,” Kirishima started as he stood beside his wife, her stomach still swollen with the baby girl she was carrying. He kept a hand on her hip, as he kept a hand in his pocket as he talked to your husband. “If you ever considerate, you could definitely go and teach at UA. After retiring myself, I quite enjoy it for a bit before I joined the Hero Council.” Your eyebrows raised forgetting that option. Kirishima had been one of the first of you all to retire from active duty work. Being a hero wasn’t a long job, most retiring by the age of thirty five and at most fourty-five.

You looked down at Izuku who’s eyebrows raised in surprise as well. “Well, I never thought of it.” He let out as he raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “But the commission did offer to put me on the council. It seems like a big decision to make.”

“Indeed.” You turned at the sound of a voice. Approaching the four of you was Katsuki, dressed in an all black suit with orange elements but on his arm was Ochaco. Your husband was the first to scowl but you kept your kind diplomatic smile out of duty. Katsuki smirked down at your husband. “Enjoy your retirement Deku. You deserve it after all the long years of service.” It almost sounded harmless, if you didn’t know Katsuki as well as you did.

Izuku forced a smile to his face as he leaned back with a breath. “Enjoy being Number One Kacchan, took you so long to get there.” He acknowledged, nodding his head. “Only took me injuring my back for you to surpass me.”

“Well, our prayers are answered differently.” You had to do a double take at Katsuki and what he had just said before he continued to speak. “Y/N, I have to thank you.” You finally saw something genuine on Katsuki and that was a smile. “For saving Kane’s life. It means the world to me that you saved my only child.”

You saw Eijiro stiffen at that mention, keeping his mouth shut at that. His wife kept a hand on him, trying to keep him calm. You could imagine, after the both of them had been married for over a decade and had both Kane and Satomi, it must have been hard for Eijiro to hear that. Satomi wasn’t Katsuki’s biologically but they still got their kids together.

You smiled with a nod. “It’s the least I can do. I love Kane and I would do it again.”

“I know you would. It’s what makes you the perfect mother.” He stated softly, almost with a reminiscent look.

Suddenly there was a flash of light and Katsuki had doubled over with a grunt as he cupped his groin. “Oh my goodness, Kacchan are you okay?” You heard your husband say with a surprised face as he looked up at the blond. “I am so sorry, I didn’t see your pathetic excuse of a manhood there.” You and Eijiro’s new wife looked at each other in shock as your daw dropped. Izuku looked up at Katsuki sympathetically. “I was trying to call a waiter but you were in the way.”

Katsuki let out a low growl as he glared at Izuku, trying to stand up straight. “Why you son of a-”

“Are you cussing me out because I’m disabled and I made a mistake?” Izuku asked putting a hand to his chest with a faux shocked expression. “How horrible, honestly I-”

“Izuku.” Ochaco let out sickeningly sweet as she smiled down at your husband. Izuku’s eyes flicked to her before he let out a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. She stood in a black dress but wore emerald green earings on her ears. Shameless. “That was a great speech, you gave. I know you are technically on retirement but I still need help on that case and-”

“I’m sorry, Uravity but I can’t get past your earrings.” Izuku stated as he looked up at her with a frown. “They do not suit you at all. Did I gift them?”

She looked taken a back and shocked at his words. “Uh… no, but-”

“Good. Now can you all excuse me,” Izuku made a look to you and you smiled. “I still need to do my rounds before I leave. It is a school night.” He stated as he pushed himself back. You took the handles of Izuku’s wheelchair as you stirred him away, the both of you heading away from Katsuki and Ochaco, waving to Eijiro and his wife. Izuku shook his head with a tsk. “Thank goodness I can’t stand because if I could, I would have punched him straight through a pillar.” You couldn’t help but giggle. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yes Izu?”

He looked up at you for a moment, pupils round as he did so. “You look divine.”

You couldn’t help but soften at the compliment. You felt heat brush up your neck. “Thank you.”

Although you were both still at baby steps…

It was a start you were willing to take.

THE END

-Glitch1d

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sh1-n0bu · 8 months

Note

I’d like to order some nsfw genshin impact SAGAU stuff:

More specifically, its when the Creator uses a vessel different from Wanderer, their main, and he gets jealous all the time.

So, when they descend on teyvat, one of the first things they do is fuck the jealousy out of him so badly he cant speak. (Yes its overstimulation because MAN…)

♡︎ 𝙢𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙙 ♡︎

characters: sub!AFAB!wanderer (or scaramouche) x nb!dom!reader

warnings: overstimulation, dacryphillia, jealousy, oral fixation, squirting, fingering, slight cult-ish and religious undertones

notes: hhhh my first sagau smut

kabukimono adored the creator.

how could he not? he was just a mere creation and a vessel of the god of all gods.

the first to tell the poor, discarded puppet of you was niwa. when seeing how everyone in tatarasuna worshipped a being called divine creator, the poor puppet couldn’t help his own curiosity and ask. in response, niwa patiently explained to him how there was once an ancient being. a god of all gods. one who even reigned over the archons, celestia itself. one who created teyvat, blessed it with life and in their weakened state, went to an eternal rest.

kabukimono adored the creator with the hollow remains of where his heart is meant to be. an empty shell filling with fuzzy feelings, smile spreading on his face whenever he goes to pray at your shrine, offerings of small yet precious things left in your altar. he only hoped it would please your soul.

kunikuzushi has secret reverence and respect for the creator.

you took away his friend, his home, his family and yet he still hopes for your guidance. carrying hope in the shape of a small wooden carving that he made, which he clutches closely to his chest.

during restless nights and moments when he feels himself slipping, losing hope, losing sight of loving you — he clutches the wooden carving to his chest. tight, tight to the point it leaves a dent in his pale hand and whispers into it. how he wishes to be in your care. how he hopes that you didn’t abandon him. how he hopes that your loving arms would hold him one day. how you are the only source of life he has.

how all the blood he shed was meant for you. a sacrifice for you. to appease you. to bring you back to teyvat. to see you in flesh.

kunikuzushi has secret reverence and respect for the creator.

scaramouche despises the creator.

you left him. when his own mother betrayed him and left him alone, he was lucky to be found by nagamasa. he was lucky that niwa was kind enough to let him stay at tatarasuna. how you were so cruel that even after all the metal and iron, gold and silver he molded and modeled to make tiny offerings to your altar. how you were twisted to give him small slivers of hopes in the form of niwa and the sick child, yet to take them away.

he hates you. despises you. loathes you. every little altar he sees, he hopes to destroy it. every statue of you he glimpses at, he uses his delusion to shock the old and eroded stone until it breaks and crumbles. oh, how badly he wished to do the same to you.

the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers won’t even hesitate for a split second to spit on your name even in the presence of the tsaritsa. childe always looks down on him whenever he does. the ginger’s hands twitching, delusion and vision mixing up together as he tries his best to hold himself back from jumping on the short arrogant puppet.

and yet despite it all… scaramouche still clutches the small wooden carving of you. holding it close to his chest as he secretly whispers in his mind how much he wishes to please you. the puppet only hopes all the bodies he piled up would satisfy you, even just a little bit.

wanderer loves you dearly.

he has been wrong this whole time. you were never twisted, never sick in the head nor heart, never wishing to manipulate him, never wishing harm or pain upon anything. you were gentle. loving. every life form you passed by would swoon and sway, hoping to touch you. even touching your clothes or robes would be enough.

when be first got his vision, he heard your voice in his head. it was the same loving warmth that enveloped the traveler. it was warm, gentle, loving but still not fully there. when he protected the traveler and the floating thing, he could hear you cheer for him. for him.

but when an array of shooting stars engulfed the fake skies, wanderer looks up as always. blue ones, purple ones and then he felt it. a certain pull in his chest. like how red strings of fate tugs on your pinky in all those fairytales.

and he follows.

running, running, running — until he eventually reaches an odd place. a clear sky, one that looked real and one that cradled him in a gentle warmth.

“yeeesss!! you’re finally home! welcome home, wanderer!” a voice rings in his head loud and clear. excitement, happiness, elation, joy, pride — all sorts of emotions bubble in him, ready to burst out. but instead it fell down in the form of a tear. a happy tear.

it was you. it was the creator. the all-knowing, all-loving one. and you wanted him! him of all people! and you were happy that you had him!

yet wanderer doesn’t get it.

if you loved him so much, wanted him, pre-farmed for him as you said and even got his signature weapon, why were you using someone else? why use that cocky cryo user from mondstadt? why use his brother who is equally cocky but knows how to keep it hidden? why use that annoying old archon who flaunts that he is your oldest and most devout follower? or even the yashirou commissioner!

was he not enough? was he not strong enough? did you needed to “farm” for his talent materials? if so, no need! he already went ahead and got them for you when you logged out! everything to make him the perfect dps as you called is all there and ready!

strange.

why was your other characters are all either dead or on 1hp when you log in? only wanderer is there — your main — in full hp. standing proud and cocky with the same grin.

——

it’s tough to be a god.

no seriously. all jokes and that damn catchy song aside, it was indeed tough to be a god. especially when all these powerful people who can literally control elements and even gods themselves were worshipping you. how can you be a god of all gods?

well, you found out the answer to that question on one of your earlier days when you got a little bit too curious. all in the form of an ichor bleeding out of your palm that you sliced. and perhaps a bit pressured too. after all, being put on a pedestal for everyone to see and worship and grovel to is hard to deal with. especially when you were suddenly thrown into a world that you thought was only fictional!

but there was also something else that was incredibly, unbelievably, astoundingly hard to deal with was your main. the puppet who was abandoned. the short, sarcastic asshole. but never towards you! he would hate to make you even slightest bit sad or angry.

and yet he does it anyways.

going out of his way to stalk down some poor merchant you like buying things from to buy most of their stock so you won’t visit the merchant’s shop again. picking fights with your acolytes when you show the slightest hint of favoritism. hell, he almost killed childe. but of course, the battle lusted ginger loved the thrill and had asked for more future fights.

which all led to here. him getting his well deserved punishment.

poor wanderer thinking he was all too slick. how he was doing everything behind your back so you wouldn’t know anything. how you would stay innocent to his actions while he goes and picks another fight. but you noticed. every single jealousy inflicted actions wanderer had pulled and orchestrated, you knew.

anyone could walk in right now and see what was happening. anyone of your pathetic other acolytes could walk in and see how good you were fucking him. fingers knuckles deep into his cunt, fucking him so good, so deep.

and dear stars and you, wanderer wanted that. he wanted those pathetic worshippers to see how you favored him above them.

wanderer had lost his sense of self and mind long time ago. the moment you wrapped your hand around his throat to manhandle his tiny body to sit on your lap, his mind was gone. a blank sheet of paper.

the puppet doesn’t remember how many orgasms you’ve wrung out of him but he loved it. he wanted it. he wanted more. he wanted your fingers to fuck him open.

in his hazy mind, lust ridden babbles and overstimulated body, he can feel it. how your other hand is keeping his labia spread open. how you apply pressure around his cunt. how your fingers are squelching into him, creating a filthy wet shlick! shlick! noises.

how your hand keeping his labia open goes to tug on his clit. pinching the bud of muscle as he writhes and screams in your lap. squirting over your fingers again like a common brothel whore. and he loved it. by the stars above, he loved it.

because deep in his most depraved part of mind, wanderer knew that he was a whore. your whore. your common brothel cheap whore. your whore who would spread open his legs for you if you asked for it. who would eagerly finger himself so he can provide you with some sort of entertainment. who would take your hand and guide it inside his shorts, not even bothering to wear undergarments, so he can give you easier access.

he doesn’t remember. doesn’t want to remember how many times he came. when you place him on your own throne, legs propped on both sides on the armrest, his wet, slick covered pussy and hardened sensitive clit for the world to see, all he can think about is how good it feels.

when you get down on your knees in front of him, it feels like a sacrilege. shouldn’t it be him who’s on his knees in front of you, trying and hoping to please you?

yet all of his thoughts fly out the window when your fingers stretch his sensitive pussy open again. fingers hooked on the inside slightly, just enough to open up his inner labia and for you to admire his gaping hole. waiting eagerly for you to claim it once again.

“your gra—aanhg!! grace! grace! your grace!! f-feelsh good. feelsh good feelsh goodfeelsgoodgoodgood ghk—! aammh!♥︎“ the jealous puppet whines and babbles on, your title falling over his lips over and over like a mantra as he drools. mind long gone, sanity on the thin line between delirium and lucidity. struggling to comprehend just what is happening.

he feels your mouth on him. tongue lapping at his juice greedily like an insatiable animal while he struggles to keep his legs open. hand twitching, hesitating for a moment before he grips onto your hair tightly — his only anchor. he can feel everything too greatly.

body sensitive, pushed over the boundaries of his virgin state. he could feel how you suck on his sensitive clit, forcing him to squirt into your mouth.

if this was how you would treat him to stop his jealousy induced rampages, maybe wanderer should do it more often.

#nobu.writes #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #sub!genshin #sub!genshin impact #sub scaramouche #sub!scaramouche #sub wanderer #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #gender neutral reader

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eagerbby · 2 years

Text

ʙᴏᴏ? - ᴇ.ᴍ

pairing| Eddie Munson x female reader

synopsis| It was supposed to be a joke, payback, revenge, until it spiraled completely out of control. Just your luck.

an| inspired by the prompt "I hid in your closet to scare you as a joke but when you came in you started masturbating and I can't just get up and leave but if I get caught in your closet you'll think I'm a pervert I regret my life choices" from here. my brainrot is thriving.

warnings| 3k, masturbating (m), reader being a perv obvi, illusions to sex, 18+ folks

part 2

It escalated quickly; too quickly to even process what you were doing, and what you were doing wasn’t even a good idea to begin with, but it was the only thing you could think of.

The Hellfire Club was currently in the midst of a rather heated prank war, started of course by their relentless leader himself, and you had slowly been dragged into the cruel web he had begun to weave three weeks ago.

It was annoying at first, Eddie jump scaring you every chance he could. Jumping out from behind the cafeteria doors, slamming his hand against the locker next to yours while you were in deep thought digging through your own locker, or four days ago when he hid in the backseat of your car only to reveal himself once you’d hit five over the speed limit on the main road home; you almost crashed your car that day because of him.

He was a menace and although the other guys had it much worse than you, Eddie seemed to take more pleasure from simply spooking you. But at least it wasn’t shaving cream in your book bag like poor Gareth or when he stole the chains off Mike and Dustin’s bikes before school ended leaving them stranded -although he did give them a ride home after they got down and praised King Eddie- in hindsight you were getting off pretty easy in comparison.

But still, that last prank got to you, the seriousness of almost wrecking had scared you shitless. Enough that you had to pull over on the side of the road, trying not to break down in front of him. He had felt bad, you could see it on his face as he tumbled into the front seat and begged you to not cry, but you were just so mad you kicked him out of your car and drove off.

That’s how your little plan came to fruition. You skipped your last period just to make sure you’d beat him to his cozy little trailer on the outskirts of town, greeting his uncle Wayne as you ducked under his arm and into the living room.

“Whatcha doin’, kiddo?” He asked, blue eyes narrowed in amusement.

“Gonna scare the shit outta your devious little shit of a nephew.” You say simply as you fill a glass with cold water from the tap.

Wayne catches the wild glint in your eye, the mirror image of the one his nephew harbors in his own big brown ones. The older man could only shake his head, muted blue eyes dancing with amusement as he said..

“Give him hell, dollface.” Before he’s headed down the porch steps to his beat up Chevy truck.

Which brings you to right now, stuffed tight in Eddie’s messy closet, the fake fur of his creepy Alf costume tickling the back of your neck, your heart thudding loudly in your chest when you finally hear the loud wail of metal and the screeching of tires against gravel.

There isn’t much to your plan here other than jump out and make him scream. Make him regret fucking with you so hard the past three weeks. You’ve been giving him the cold shoulder since you both almost died -he’s lucky you had just got your brakes changed, a week earlier and you both would have been seriously hurt- which meant he wouldn’t be expecting your revenge, instead thinking you were still pissed. Which you kinda were, but he didn’t make it easy. He’d been groveling nonstop since it happened, bringing you little presents in hopes you’d forgive him, and you had but you still wanted revenge.

You hear him as he bounds up the steps, humming to himself, he slings the front door open followed by the sound of the lock clicking in place. Your fingers tremble in anticipation, adrenaline bleeding heavily from your pores. It’s unbearably stuffy in his little closet, sweat beading on your forehead and between your breasts, and the only light comes from a crack in the sliding door giving you a full view of his mirror. You can see him in its reflection, coming down the hall with his wild hair bouncing around his shoulders, eyes locked onto the cassette in his hands.

He enters his cramped bedroom and goes straight to his tape deck, the pink tip of his tongue trapped between plush lips as he stuffs the tape in and hits play, surprisingly turning the sound to a reasonable volume. As the music softly spills from the speakers he shrugs out of his denim vest and jacket combo, pulling his black tattered Iron Maiden shirt with the sleeves haphazardly cut off over his head. As he tosses it to the floor, the lyrics of the song he’s skipped to floods your ears. You know this song, love this song, fuck, you showed him this song. He’s humming along to it as he kicks off his sneakers, shimmies out of his black ripped jeans, calloused fingertips gliding gently down his soft tummy into the waistband of his boxers.

Okay, what the fuck. You clamp your eyes shut before you can see too much. This is absolutely, positively, not part of your plan. His bed springs groan as the lyrics echo around his room and you sit in his closet with your hands over your eyes trying not to breathe too loud.

Let's get away, just for one day,

Let me see you stripped down to the bone.

It was your Depeche Mode cassette, the one you’d lost a couple weeks ago and tore your room and car apart in a frenzy to find. You never did and now you know why; because you dear friend Eddie had stolen it.

Fuck this, you think to yourself as you raise off your feet in the cramped space. You’re about to bust out, ask him why he sat there and listened to you whine for days about your missing tape knowing full well he had it, when you hear something that makes your body freeze.

It’s soft, gentle as a breeze, but loud enough to still hear over the song playing from his speakers. A moan, shaky and almost desperate, and you can’t help when you peek out the slit of the door and catch sight of him in the mirror. Your mouth goes dry, eyes so wide they must be bugging out of your head, you’re looking into a mirror except you can’t see yourself, no, but you can see him and the sight is fucking beautiful.

Eddie’s laid out long ways across his bed, bare feet planted on the shag carpet just a couple feet from your hiding spot in the closet, his eyes are closed and his fist is wrapped tightly around the head of his cock.

“O-oh f-fuuck.” He whines, thumb dragging across his weeping slit, smearing the precum that beads there across the red mushroom head of his rather thick cock. Jesus, you had shamefully imagined what he was packing under those tight pants he always wore, usually alone at night in your bed, but never did you think you’d actually see it. Especially not like this.

Oh, this is wrong, so fucking wrong. You shouldn’t be here right now watching him thrust up slowly into his cock, shouldn’t lick your lips as he roams his hands over his bare chest, his fingers tweaking a nipple making his cock visibly twitch at the sensation. You shouldn’t be wet between your legs, squeezing your thighs together as best you can without moving much or making any noise. This is perverted, sick and twisted, a complete violation of Eddie’s privacy, but what are you supposed to do? You should have jumped out as soon as he came in, should have stopped him as soon as he got his shirt off, but instead you stayed frozen in place among Eddie’s clothes and now it was too late. You couldn’t just cover your eyes and leave, no that’d be horrifying for the both of you. Which left only one option; wait for him to finish and hope to a God you weren’t sure you believed in that he leaves right after.

But that’s also a problem because you can’t not hear the pretty moans that fall from his lips. Can’t ignore the way the bed frame creaks as his hips pick up a steady pace. Can’t stop looking into that stupid fucking mirror and biting your lip at the sight of him completely lost in his pleasure.

You are so going to hell.

“Oh, fuck, baby. J-just like that.”

Your pussy floods at just the mere sound of his voice, clouded with lust and his impending orgasm. You can see how close he is, his tummy flexing hard as his hand fucks his cock faster. He isn’t gentle with himself, not like before, fucking his fist with fast sloppy thrusts of his hips as he presses his head back into his ruffled sheets. You can’t peel your eyes from him, can’t stop the constant squeeze of your thighs as your body begs for some kind of friction. And you definitely can’t stop the looming thought that if you get caught Eddie will probably never talk to you again.

You wouldn’t blame him.

There’s a new song playing but you can’t really hear it, aren’t even paying attention, not when Eddie shifts up to lean on one elbow to watch himself work. He gasps at a rather rough flick of his wrist, biting his lip as his eyes flutter closed, his long black lashes dancing across his pale skin. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, watching intently through the mirror.

You watched porn before but this, this was better than anything you’ve ever seen, and if you weren’t such a coward -and if you weren’t hiding in his fucking closet- you’d fall to your knees in front of him. Beg him to come all over your face, down your throat, in your tight pussy. You’d find your filthiest words, bat your eyes all innocent, drag your nails over his hairy thighs, just to see him cum. To watch his face scrunch up and mouth fall slack as he painted you all pretty in his hot seed.

Yeah, if you didn’t get caught -and probably still if you did- you were so using the sight of your best friend fucking his fist to get off later.

Maybe you were a pervert after all.

Eddie’s moans are getting louder, hot breathy noises falling from his bitten lips, he’s visibly having a hard time keeping his eyes open, obviously lost in whatever scenario he is conjuring up behind his eyes. Your hands were gripping the fabric of your skirt as tight as you can, trying your best to restrain from shoving your hand underneath and thrusting your finger deep inside your tight, wanting, hole. His fingers would feel so much better, long and thin, you know they must be talented considering how good he is with a guitar. All this thinking has your chest heaving, hands shaking, breathing slowly in and out of your nose. You can feel your willpower slipping away, gone without a trace, you need him to hurry up. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to handle this much longer.

But then Eddie says something so out of left field, so far from anything you’ve ever heard come from his mouth, that your brain completely malfunctions.

“Just like that, y/n. I wanna be inside you so bad, baby.” It’s all a tangled whine, your name a quivered pant, and you gasp so loudly you make yourself jump, backing up deep into his closet as you watch his head spring up.

Silence. Horrible, retched, silence as you cover your mouth with a shaky hand and close your now watery eyes. He heard you, you know it, and now all the heat and blood have left your aching core to wash over the apples of your cheeks. Hot like lava, the embarrassment of being caught doing something so wrong makes your eyes water.

He’s never gonna speak to you again.

There’s a click as the tape deck stops and then the drag of his closet door sliding open and you want to drop dead where you stand.

“Y/n” Eddie asks, all quiet and gravelly, arousal still heavy in his throat. You can’t look at him, can’t dare raise your eyes away from your feet.

“Boo?” Out of all the things you wanted to say, that was the only word to come out, soft as a whisper.

“W-What are you doing?” Good question, you think. What the fuck are you doing?

“It’s not what you think.” You say quickly with a dark humorless chuckle, eyes bouncing to his before you completely fucking regret it and lower them back to the floor. He looks too good right now with his pupils blown wide and a sheen of sweat on his bewildered face. “I was go-gonna get you back for scaring me so much, but then you started…” You gesture your hand in the direction of his cock, braving a quick glimpse before slamming your eyes shut. He’s still naked, standing in front of you with a pillow covering his bare waist, and it’s just too much.

“How much d-did you hear?” He asks softly, shuffling from foot to foot as he scratches the back of his neck. His nervous tick.

“Uhm, well, not… not a lot…” It’s kinda comical how unbelievable you sound and Eddie must think so too because he huffs out a laugh as he backs up to his bed, plopping down on the side of it and adjusting his pillow shield.

“So you heard everything then. Fucking fantastic.” You step out of the closet finally, shuffling quietly against the carpet as you close the door back and face him, hands clasped together in front of your chest.

“Are- Do you hate me now, Eds?” You ask, perturbed, fiddling with the black and red yarn bracelet around your wrist. The same one Eddie wore; a friendship bracelet he’d given to you after the first time you’d hung out one on one.

Eddie seems puzzled by your question, going to stand before he quickly realizes he’s only wearing a pillow. “Wait a second, will ya?” He asks and you nod covering your eyes as if you hadn’t just been watching him jerk off. When he's done, presumably getting dressed, he taps your elbow and when you don’t uncover your face, he grips your forearms softly and guides them away. He offers you a friendly smile when you meet his doe eyes.

“I don’t hate you.” He says softly, the heat of his fingers leave goosebumps on your skin.

“I would.” You mumble, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I thought you were mad at me?” He asks, trying to catch your eye but you’re too busy counting the tears in your worn out converse.

“M not mad. I just wanted to get you back.” You offer and out of the corner of your eye you can see him nod.

“Glad you’re not mad still.” He says and then, “How’d you get in, sweetheart?”

“Wayne let me in, before he left. I skipped last period to get here before you. I swear, Eddie, I only wanted to jump scare you like you’ve been doing to me for the past month, I-I didn’t- I didn’t know what to do when you started..”

“Hey,” He chirps, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, and you try not to think about where that hand just was because if you do you’re gonna start thinking about the sounds he made while it was wrapped tight around his- no stop it.

Even in the middle of the most embarrassing conversation you’ve ever had, your thoughts betray you with images of his hot, rock hard, cock.

“It’s no biggie, really. I should have figured something was up, Wayne never leaves the door unlocked.” He’s fucking smiling at you now, a full smile that shows his teeth and crinkles the corners of his eyes and for some reason unknown to you; it really irritates you.

“No biggie?” You cry, pushing him away from you, and his face falls but you can’t handle him being so close to you right now. “You just caught me spying on you while you jerked off, but it’s no biggie?”

“Yeah, no biggie. No big deal.” Eddie draws out his words, hand rolling in the air as he elaborates. “I’m not mad at you. No biggie.”

“Eddie, I feel like such a perv-” You start, eyes still watery with shame, but Eddie cuts you off.

“You literally watched me jerk my dick while thinking about you, I think we’re both falling pretty hard on the pervert line here, sweetheart.”

You look him in the eye, finally, trying to judge if he truly means what he says. You find honesty, and something else you can’t quite decipher, with his gaze locked onto you and you nod and give him an unsteady smile before sinking onto the edge of his bed.

“‘M sorry.” You tell him. “Really.”

Eddie shakes his head, sitting down next to you in only his boxers, and places a hand on your bare knee. That fire surges again, deep in your bones, shooting through you like a bullet at the small contact.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m no worse for wear because of it. Kinda-” He trails off for a moment, reaches back to scratch at his neck again. “Kinda hot thinking about you watching me without me even knowing.”

Oh. Oh.

You really should have figured he’d be into it. Little freak.

“Was kinda hot watching you…” You offer shyly, biting your lip as Eddie beams at you.

“Yeah?” He asks, his nose scrunching up all cutely as his cheeks flush.

“Mhm, you know I’ve had a crush on you since, like, forever right?”

“Okay, don’t fuck with me like that.” He warns, umber eyes searching your smiling face.

“Not lying.” It’s simple, matter of fact. Eddie blushes even deeper.

“Well, fuck.” He runs a hand over his face, unable to wipe the cheesy smile from his lips. “I guess I don’t have to tell you I feel the same, huh?”

You laugh at this, leaning your head onto his bare shoulder. “No, I think I got the message in technicolor. You could put the porn industry to shame, Eddie.”

“You’re gonna give me a big head, sweetheart.”

“You already have one, Eddie.” You say, eyes falling to his lap.

Eddie chokes out a laugh in disbelief, shoving you back onto the bed to hover over you.

“You’re a little minx, aren’t you? Who woulda thought.” He teases with his face buried in your neck, lips ghosting across the sensitive skin there.

“Don’t you have Hellfire Club or something, you horn dog?” You ask acerbically and yet you still push your hips up to meet his when he bites down on your jugular.

“Mhm, they can wait. Found something better than playing D&D in a cluttered theater room.” He hums against you, lips following the curve of your jaw with feather light kisses.

“The guys would kill me if I was the reason you didn’t finish the campaign tonight.” You push him back by the shoulders smiling up at him as he watches you giggle at the sight of his bangs lifted up off his forehead.

“I can always just kill them all, they’ll be more mad about that.” He dives back to your neck, sucking and licking every inch of skin he can find, and as much as you want to stay here in his bed and fuck like bunnies; you’d hate to be the reason he was late. So you push him again, harder this time, until he rolls off you with a groan, slamming his fists into the mattress as you stand.

“You know I never got to cum, right? I’m aching right now, need you to help take my pain away, baby.” He’s pouting, lips jutted out, eyes like a puppy, and everything in you is screaming to give in to his guilt trip, help this poor helpless man out.

But that wouldn’t be any fun. So you lean over him, hands on either side of his head, and kiss him slowly. Mold your lips against his, drag your teeth sensually over his bottom lip, give him the most sultry look you can muster. It must work because his whole body shudders under your, desperate hands snaking up your skirt to grab your ass.

“Go to Hellfire, Eddie.” He groans at your words in disappointment, head falling back into his sheets.

“You’re mean.” He whines, slapping his hand firmly onto your ass cheek. You hiss at the pain that ebbs to pleasure and take his jaw in your hand, forcing him to look at you again.

“You didn’t let me finish. Go to Hellfire and maybe, just maybe, I’ll give you a helping hand after.” You lean down, tongue grazing the shell of his ear before whispering, “A helping hand, an open mouth, a tight wet pussy.”

Another shiver and his hand gripping tight on the back of your neck pulling you up so you can see his wicked, lopsided, grin.

“That’s not helping my little problem, baby.”

You giggle. “There’s nothing little about your problem, Eds.”

Eddie groans loudly, covering his face with the back of his arm but you’re swatting it away, giggling at his fiery red cheeks. You shower his face with kisses, every inch of rosy skin, until he's pulling you into his chest and caressing the edge of your jaw as he gazes at you with stars in his eyes.

The look in his eyes tells you your friendship is no longer that, instead there's a promise lying in his shimmering irises, something that was always there but you could never figure out the meaning to it. Maybe you were always destined to be more than friends, maybe this crazy -fucking bizarre- series of events was fated. You and Eddie, not as friends but as something more. Maybe the two of you were written in the fucking stars or something.

You’d like to find out.

So you kiss him once more, different than before, savoring the way he follows after your lips, how he cradles your head so tenderly as he kisses you back with the same fervor. Too soon you’re climbing off of him, smoothing out the pleats of your black checkered skirt as he watches with that endearing little pout.

“Lets go, Dungeon Master, the masses await thee.” He takes your outstretched hand, raising to his feet. He looks down at himself, in only his green boxers, and smiles at you all cheekily.

“Think they’d still respect me if I showed up like this?”

You pick his jeans up off the floor and place them in his hands. “Mm, probably not. But I’ll help you get undressed later, like I said, helping hand and all.”

“Fuck, my little minx.”

#if you see me posting this and not updating my other wips no you dont #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut #stranger things fan fic #stranger things x reader #eddie munson

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girlgenius1111 · 2 months

Text

not what you think

barça x reader what are actually symptoms of a migraine and developing illness are mistaken for a hangover, unfortunately for r. alexia is not happy, and r is too out of it to argue with her punishment. fluff + angst ensue :) cw: mentions of illness, throwing up, etc.

-----

You felt awful. Sicker than you’d ever felt in your entire life. When your alarm went off, you wanted to unplug your phone from the charger and throw it across the room. There was a match this weekend, though. An important one. With a slew of injuries hitting the team, they needed you more than ever. And you were not about to let them down.

This team meant more to you than you could express. They were the first people in your life to show you love, and care. Barça was the first place you felt like you belonged. And, for the first time in your life, you were really truly happy. You hadn’t realized, before, that you weren’t happy. You thought everyone felt the way you did. And then you arrived in Barcelona, and your entire world was turned upside down simply because, all of a sudden, people cared about you. It was amazing how much that could change in a person’s life.

So, no. You weren’t going to call out of training because of a little migraine. Even though your migraines always preceded you getting sick, and trying to push through only made them worse. You weren’t going to let anyone down.

-----

To anyone looking in on the situation, anyone that didn’t know you very well, it would seem obvious that you were hungover. The team had a big win the other day, and a lot of your teammates had gone out to celebrate last night. You didn’t join them, of course, being only 17. You knew the rules; you weren’t to drink. You were lucky enough they let you live alone, and you weren’t willing to risk that privilege.

When you walked into the locker room, sunglasses over your eyes, shoulders slumped, face pale, it was almost a deja vu moment. Pina, Cata, Patri, Jana, and a couple others had walked in similarly a few minutes earlier. Your older teammates took one look at you, and instantly came to the conclusion that you were, in fact, hungover.

There seemed to be some unspoken communication between your captains, who fixed their glares on you instantly. Not that you noticed. You were too busy trying to drink water, hoping the throbbing pain in your head would lessen before you had to start recovery.

That was the thing. It was supposed to be a chill day, just a quick workout to get the blood flowing, and then a lot of stretching. Alexia and Irene had decided, though, that the girls who had come in obviously hungover were to be punished. They knew what they were risking when they went out, and they did it anyway. So, they were sentenced to the regular laps. The girls were already outside getting started when you’d made it to the locker room, so you weren’t aware at all that it was occurring.

You were confused, then, when Alexia approached you, a hard look on her face. It wasn’t how Alexia normally regarded you; it was known your captain had quite a soft spot for you, but the thought that you’d been out drinking was infuriating her, and she wasn’t in the mood to be kind.

Once you looked up at her, she pulled the sunglasses off your face, throwing them into the cubby behind you with a scoff.

“Up. Outside. Laps. You are already behind.” Alexia demanded, rolling her eyes when you squinted up at her in confusion.

“Why?” You asked, voice raspy, which didn’t help your case at all.

“Do not play dumb. Go.” Alexia said roughly. You stood shakily, and walked out the door without another word.

You thought Alexia was angry that you were sick. You hadn’t thought it would be like this, at Barça, when you got sick, like it had been at your old club. Where you were expected to train through everything, and if you showed any weakness, you were pushed harder and harder. It appeared that Barça was just as you’d feared; too good to be true.

You still didn’t want to make anyone angry, so you fell into step with your teammates, who all looked to be in varying states of misery, ignoring the confused looks they sent your way. They at least knew that you hadn’t gone out with them the night before. They weren’t sure why you looked so ill, or why you were running laps, but their own feelings of sickness were rather distracting, and they continued on without asking any questions.

You didn’t know how long you ran for. Alexia had said laps, and she hadn’t specified how many, so you supposed you were supposed to run until she said you could stop. The other girls eventually finished their laps, slowly making their way inside to join the rest of the team. You stayed out there, going around and around the field, practically a zombie on your feet. You felt so sick, so bad. You were surprised you hadn’t fainted, or thrown up.

“Nena, enough. You can come in.” A voice called from the doors. You slowed down, practically falling to your knees, before you forced yourself back up. Your whole body was sticky with sweat, and your vision was weird. There was a blinding pain in your head, now, and you just wanted to lay down. You couldn’t show weakness, though. If anything, the state you were in only reinforced that message.

You stumbled over to Alexia, accepting the arm she wrapped around your shoulders gratefully. She was still angry, though, still stiff against you.

“Idiota,” she mumbled. You blinked a few tears away, knowing that crying wouldn’t help you at all. You tried not to be surprised that Alexia was acting in this way. It wouldn’t help to expect to be treated differently. You didn’t deserve it, and you shouldn’t have gotten used to it.

“Are you going to be sick?” She asked after a minute, her voice still all stern and gruff.

You took a deep breath. Strong. You had to be strong. “No.” You said firmly.

“Good. Get in the gym, stretch, and catch up.”

Alexia handed you a water bottle and gave you a gentle nudge towards the stretching area. You ignored the eyes of the team on you as you headed there, acting much more steady than you felt. Your hands were shaking, and the bright lights were somehow almost worse than the sun beating down on you had been. You were sweating, but freezing, as you began your stretching, the mumbling voices around you not meeting your ears.

It was Jana that came to your rescue, approaching where Alexia was working on arms with Mapi, Irene, Marta, and Frido. It was brave of Jana, considering how angry her captain was with her for the previous night's activities.

“Ale?” She asked tentatively, wincing when the icy glares of four of her teammates met her. Mapi was smiling of course, a sympathetic look in her eyes.

“What?” Alexia asked, crossing her arms and raising an intimidating eyebrow at the younger girl.

“Why is nena being punished?”

Alexia looked at Jana like she was crazy. “Because she went out with you all and is hungover. Which we’ll be talking about later. It’s one thing to be idiots yourselves, but to drag a 17 year old down with you? I am disappointed, Jana.”

Normally, those words would have made the brunette’s stomach drop. Instead, she was just more confused.

“Nena didn’t go out with us. We’d never do that, she’s practically an infant. She’s not hungover, I think she’s sick or something.”

It was almost poetic, how quickly you rushed out of the room after that. Realization was dawning across Alexia’s face, quickly followed by guilt, and the little group surrounding her was turning towards you just in time to see you bolt out the gym door.

“Fuck,” Alexia muttered, moving to follow you out the door. She was stopped, though, by Ingrid pulling her back and shaking her head.

“Ale, she thinks you're mad at her for being sick. Hang back for a bit, Mario and I will go.”

The blonde looked like she wanted to do anything but hang back for a sec. Still, she trusted Ingrid, and what she was saying made sense, so she nodded her head and watched as the Norwegian walked out the gym door, quickly followed by Mariona.

They found you in the bathroom, practically collapsed leaning over the toilet, dry heaving as there was simply nothing in your stomach to come up.

Ingrid took charge of the situation, turning to Mario. “Get some water, and a couple ice packs. And tell the girls to stay out.

Mariona saluted dramatically. “Yes ma’am.” Ingrid rolled her eyes, walking over to your crumpled form.

“Hey, nena,” she said softly, stopping in her tracks when you reached a hand back, gesturing for her to not come any closer.

“I’m okay, just need a sec,” you mumbled, before you tilted sideways, almost going headfirst into the wall. Ingrid moved fast, though, grabbing your shoulders and sitting down next to you.

“Easy, honey,” Ingrid soothed, leaning you up against the wall and taking a closer look at your face. “What are your symptoms?”

“No, I’m okay. Just help me up, I can finish training.” You insisted, although you made no move to stand up.

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “No, tell me what you’re feeling please.”

You sniffed pitifully. “Migraine.”

The Norwegian sighed roughly. “Let’s get you home, yes?”

You pulled away from her, then, stumbling to your feet. “No, I can finish training. Ale is already mad at me for being sick, I don’t want to make it worse, let me finish training please.”

“No-” Ingrid began, before she was cut off by the frantic sound of the door opening. Mario had returned with some water for you, and Alexia had clearly lost her patience waiting, and followed her in.

“Pequeña, I am not mad that you are sick, I am so sorry. I thought you went out with the girls and were hungover,”

You were swaying unsteadily on your feet, all three girls watching you very carefully. “You aren’t mad I’m sick?”

“No, of course not, nena,” Alexia replied, watching as your expression transformed from guarded and determined, to one that was terribly upset and tearful. You leaned, just barely, in Alexia’s direction, and she took her opportunity to wrap you up in a tight hug. It didn’t take long for her to realize you were crying into her shirt and she was sure she’d never felt more guilty in her whole life.

“I don’t feel good,” you murmured pathetically.

“I know, nena, I know.” Alexia whispered, frowning at the fever that was very clearly radiating off of you. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” She nodded meaningfully at Mario and Ingrid, who left the bathroom to grab your bag from the locker room.

Alexia really only realized just how sick you felt when you nodded, resigned, and put up no fight when the older woman picked you up.

You were practically limp in her arms as she carried you out of the room, eyes falling shut as you rested your head against her chest. You were clearly quite uncomfortable, eyebrows furrowed with pain, and Alexia decided to just take you right to her car; she’d worry about both of your bags later.

------

You were pretty out of it all the way home. So out of it, in fact,that you didn’t realize you weren’t being taken to your home until Alexia was carrying through the front door of her house.

“Olgui, ven aquí,” she called. The blonde’s girlfriend appeared, the smile on her face disappearing at the sight of you. Alexia very carefully laid you down, allowing you to flop onto the couch. You were a little more aware now, aware enough to squirm uncomfortably when you realized you weren’t at home.

“Ale,” you complained, the room being much too bright for you. You rolled into the cushions of the couch, hiding your face under a pillow.

“What did you do to pequeña?” Olga wondered, moving closer when Alexia looked at her rather helplessly.

“I made her run laps and she’s sick,” Alexia admitted. Olga smacked Alexia’s arm lightly, and the blonde rubbed it even though it hadn’t hurt. “I thought she was hungover!”

“It’s hot out, Ale,” Olga scolded. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She said it’s a migraine,” Alexia murmured, avoiding her girlfriend’s eyes as Olga glared at her. It was obvious that Alexia hadn’t really thought through bringing you home. She wasn’t good at taking care of sick people, and she knew it. Her worry had been in overdrive, though, and all she could think about was getting you somewhere safe and comfortable. Thank god for her girlfriend, who took charge right away, crouching down next to you and carefully pulling the pillow away from your face. You groaned in complaint, and Olga smiled sympathetically.

“Hey, nena, can I feel your forehead?”

“Okay.” You replied, sighing slightly at the feeling of the brunette’s cool hand on your warm skin.

Olga’s eyebrows pinched with concern. “You’re really warm, did you take anything this morning?”

“No.” You mumbled, pulling the pillow back over your face when Olga retracted her hand. At this, the brunette turned to her increasingly panicked girlfriend, listing off a series of instructions and things to bring to you. When she was done talking, Alexia ran off to the medicine cabinet, and Olga pulled you into a sitting position, insistently handing you water.

You let the two women hover over you, making you take a fever reducer, put a cool washcloth on your head, and drink an obscene amount of water. When they were satisfied with that, and you seemed to be on the verge of smacking the next hand that came towards your face, Alexia decided to bring you into the extra bedroom, and let you rest.

You flopped right out of her arms onto the bed, and Alexia softly reminded you to shout if you needed anything, before leaving the room. You almost instantly drifted off to sleep, not sure what time it was, but relatively comforted by the knowledge that Alexia would probably come check on you soon.

------

You slept right through dinner, and though Alexia wanted to wake you up to eat something, Olga advised her to let you sleep the migraine off. So at 10, when you still hadn’t woken, she refilled your water, left a snack on the nightstand, and headed to bed herself.

The blonde had been sitting in bed, staring off into the distance for at least 45 minutes, before Olga got tired of waiting for her girlfriend to talk about whatever was clearly bothering her.

Olga put her phone down, and turned to Alexia, getting her attention. “Amor, what are you thinking?” Olga asked quietly, bringing a hand up to the nape of her girlfriend’s neck and scratching lightly. Alexia was deep in thought, though she relaxed a bit when Olga spoke.

“Thank you for helping her.” Alexia murmured.

“Of course.” Olga said easily. She paused for a moment, studying the blonde next to her that looked, shockingly and inexplicably, close to tears. “What’s bothering you?”

Alexia just shrugged, but gave in when Olga gave her a familiar look, one that told her to start talking.

“You… you will be a good mother one day.” Alexia mumbled, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

“Thank you?” Olga said, blinking at her girlfriend, rather confused.

“I do not think that I will be.” The blonde admitted.

Olga softened, leaning closer into her girlfriend. “Why do you think that, amor?”

“I was completely useless earlier. I hurt her feelings, and then I didn’t know how to make her feel better. She’s 17, and I couldn’t do it. What would I do with a baby? I’d just mess it all up.” Alexia cried miserably, bringing a hand to her face to wipe harshly at her eyes.

Olga’s hand caught hers, the brunette using her sleeve to wipe the blonde’s face much more gently. “That’s what you’re upset about? That you didn’t know how to help pequeña?”

“When I used to get sick, Mami always knew what to do and how to help. It came so naturally to her, and it comes s0 naturally to you. It is not like that for me.”

Before Olga could respond, your voice called out from the extra bedroom.

“Ale?” you yelled hoarsely, and it was obvious that you were crying.

Alexia was out of bed like a bullet, sprinting down the hall into the guest room where you were.

“Nena? What is it?” She asked, hovering over you uncertainty. You were laying on your back, eyes squeezed shut, tears running down your cheeks.

“It really hurts,” you sobbed.

Alexia sighed shakily, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Your head?”

“Yeah.” You replied.

“I am so sorry, pequeña. What can I do?”

“I don’t know.” You whimpered, in too much pain to really be embarrassed about how pathetic you were acting. You were desperate for something, anything to make it stop hurting. Alexia could tell you were beginning to panic, the pain in your head becoming overwhelming.

“Nena, look at me.” She instructed. You blinked your eyes open, doing as she asked. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No, this is how my migraines always feel,” you told her. Alexia nodded, filing this information away for later.

“Okay. Take a few deep breaths for me, yes?”

Again, you blindly followed her instructions, breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth. After a few breaths, you opened your eyes again, and looked to your captain for further guidance.

“How long do your migraines normally last?”

You thought for a moment. “Not longer than a day.”

“I think if you go back to sleep, you’ll feel better when you wake up then, right?” She clarified, trying to look at this logically when she knew you could not.

“Yeah, probably.” You mumbled back, trying to relax yourself back into the bed.

“Good. How can I make you more comfortable?” Alexia asked softly, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You were quiet for a moment, looking cautiously at Alexia before you shook your head minutely. “I don’t know.”

The blonde studied you for a moment. “Yes you do. Tell me.”

“It’s stupid.” You argued back, refusing to make eye contact with her.

“Tell. Me.” Alexia insisted, poking you twice in the stomach. You jerked away, giving her a dirty look.

“Can you stay in here with me until I fall asleep?” You asked finally, because the thought of being alone right now was overwhelmingly horrible.

Alexia softened. “Of course, nena. That’s not stupid.” She slid into the bed with you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder, encouraging you to snuggle up to her.

“It is stupid, I’m not a child, I'm an adult.” You grumbled, but you went practically limp against Alexia when she began to rub your back soothingly.

“You might not be a child, but you’re still a kid. And needing someone to take care of you isn’t stupid.” Alexia insisted.

“Okay.” You muttered, already half asleep. Alexia smiled to herself, glad that she could do one thing right, at least. It was only a few more minutes before you were properly passed out on top of your captain. Alexia settled in too, her eyes just beginning to slide shut when Olga gently pushed the door open, a completely adoring expression on her face at the sight in front of her.

“No maternal instincts, huh?” She teased, moving to the other side of the bed to kiss her girlfriend goodnight.

“Shut up.” Alexia replied gruffly, though it was impossible to miss the protective look on her face when she pulled you in closer, or the shy blush that lit up her cheeks when she looked back at Olga.

“Goodnight, mi amor.” Olga whispered. Alexia returned the sentiment, watching Olga leave the room, her thoughts completely overrun with images of her and Olga, and their future.

What was another kid to the one they already apparently had?

-----

soft but confused alexia :,)

haven’t finished flipped (ingrid x mapi x reader) but i did finish this so hope you enjoy ❤️🫶🏻

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #barça femeni x reader

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yutaleks · 3 months

Text

cw: noncon, reader is restrained, oviposition, monsterfucking, belly bulge, blood, breeding, size kink, two (large) dicks, yuuta bites reader with his fangs. Mentions of a past experience on Yuuta’s part. reader is mentioned to be ovulating. Naga!Yuuta x fem!reader. Shoutout to Sage anon for starting the naga!yuuta agenda… sorry. it's the voices. you know how it goes. Length: 2.1k Banner by @/cafekitsune

For a creature that's holding you against your will, Yuuta is surprisingly considerate.

Despite telling you that the only reason he hasn't eaten you yet is because he can smell how fertile you are, he hasn't touched you in the week since he's kept you in his cave. Earlier, you told yourself it was perhaps because he's changed his mind. Or maybe he had realized, over the last week, that he did not actually want you to "carry his brood" as he so crudely put it himself within minutes of meeting you. Maybe he changed his mind, and was simply using you as a heater at night (which wasn't so bad, admittedly. Being surrounded by his thick tail was definitely better than cold, hard cave floor).

You had high hopes of being freed gently, after a week of him feeding you and attempting to charm you with the bloodied belongings of deceased spelunkers who were not as lucky as you were. You had told yourself that this half snake-half man creature that you could only dream up in nightmares was actually just being kind to you and would release you once your body was healed up enough to move. It was a nice thing to tell yourself each time you were faced with him reappearing from the dark, covered in blood, actively choosing not to feast on your flesh. It had to be for a reason, right?

After you'd eaten a meal of questionable origin (as all meals given to you by him were) he'd taken to his daily habit of 'smelling' you with his tongue. It is a strange thing, indeed, to watch his human lips part and produce a thin, forked tongue. It was nothing short of invasive, having him taste the air surrounding your body. And each day he'd mumble something along the lines of 'not yet'; you didn't understand what he meant by such a thing, and he did not offer to elaborate.

But today the smelling/tasting/whatever he was doing with his tongue produced a different result. Today, with a satisfied hum, he smiled at you with fangs protruding, the dark slits in his eyes looking especially fiendish.

"You're ready."

"Ready for what?" you asked, innocently, as his thick mass of tail had coiled itself around you. It was just on the edge of constricting, as its weight settled on your limbs.

What a naive girl you were.

His answer came to you in the form of him holding you down in his nest, scaled tail too weighty for your limbs to even dream of pushing back. And even with your incessant wriggling, he manages to peel away the layers of your clothing. It leaves your pretty, small human body delightfully open for him. He can’t peel his eyes off of your glistening cunt if he tried.

And despite the week spent in his captivity it is at that moment that you see him for the first time—two large, phallic appendages emerging from a slit where a human man's reproductive organs would be.

Does he really intend to put both of those inside of you?

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt,” he says, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as the rest of your body is immobilized. You want to say something, anything, but honestly you’re still so stuck on the sight of his two penises. They are way too big for your body, that much you know for a fact.

“It’s—they—they’re too…” your body attempts to move away from his approaching tongue, shoulders pressing back against the flooring. Your body moves not even an inch, held so firmly in place.

“I’ve heard that our saliva assists in easing the pain,” he tells you, syllables just slightly slurred by the weight of his tongue. “I will do my best.”

“H-have you,” you swallow, as his tongue flicks across the small space between his (admittedly) handsome face and your pussy. “Have you done this before?”

His dark eyes widen a little as he says, “Once. Another human.”

You don’t have time to question it any further—when he finishes speaking he unhinges his sharp jaw, further than a human should be able to, and quickly pierces your vulva with four fangs. The piercing scream that leaves your lips echos off the cave walls, pain stinging where he bites. Tears well at the corners of your eyes but the pain doesn’t last very long; just as soon as you begin to feel his teeth pull away, blood bubbling up from the wounds, so does a feeling of numbness begin to seep through the source of your pain. It is as he said—the saliva he leaves in your open wounds fizzles out the pain into nothingness. In mere moments, if it weren’t for the blood in the crack between your thigh and your pussy, you’d forget about the bites entirely.

He flicks his tongue over each bite-wound, and surely the area between your legs starts to feel—well, you can’t feel, actually. At least you’ve stopped thrashing about, to Yuuta’s relief.

It is behind the cages of dark lashes that he looks up at you when he’s done licking the blood away. Though your senses are dulled, you can vaguely feel his forked tongue swipe over your hole. Despite how much you don’t want this, your body responds to the stimulus of his tongue with dripping arousal—he can taste it, the tangy nectar that you drip for him. And to think you had resisted so intensely.

“So warm,” he notes, cool breath passing over your pussy. “You’re perfect.”

You do the math in your head, thinking to yourself that between your last period and the time you’ve been in this cave, it has to have been about two weeks…

Is what he is sensing… ovulation?

Your thighs shake against his palms, struggling as you watch his tongue begin to push itself inside of you. It’s the strangest sensation, that despite the numbness, you can feel his thin, forked tongue move around inside of you, coating your walls in that thin, sticky substance that is his saliva. Just as he had numbed the space between your legs, this too he covers in venom. It reaches a point where you can no longer feel the movements of his tongue, and your body turns boneless against his tail, tired from resisting.

When he pulls away, long tongue no longer numbing your insides, you look down upon his body once again. You more closely inspect his two cocks, noticing quite a difference between the two. The second, lower one is quite thicker, its girth intimidating, maybe even downright frightening. The upper one is thinner, more human-like in size and shape. Though it is large by human standards, it is not as scary as the first one. But the thought of him using both on you, perhaps even at the same time, has your heart pumping out of your stomach. Numbness be damned.

“B-both of those?” You blurt out, eyes wide in fear as his body draws nearer to yours.

“Ah, no,” he tells you, to your relief. “First, eggs. Then, mating.”

Again, you struggle against the weight of his body. Words like “please” and “don’t” leave your lips but he has kept you here for this purpose alone—surely, he’s told you this before, hasn’t he? You’ve accepted his gifts, his foods, his care. He has done it all for you, the one who will help him sire his brood.

He uses the lower cock first, its girth stretching you impossibly wide. He is as gentle as he can be, pushing in slowly and watching for any signs of pain. He had taken his time numbing you, and it seems to have paid off—besides general discomfort, the anguishing stretch that he had expected (judging from his last experience, anyway) did not seem to bother you as much as he thought it would. Your eyes screw shut as he stuff you full with his cock, and as he waits for you to adjust to his full size, he feels the muscles in your thighs relax. The resistance of your upper body against his tail wanes.

“Good girl.”

The sweet tone of his voice makes you shudder. It’s almost unfair that a monster using you like this can be so handsome, can sound so reassuring. You feel him pull out halfway, just to push back in. His upper cock, the one not inside you, rubs against your clit, creating a devastatingly delicious friction. And you watch your belly as he thrusts again, a bump moving along in time with his thrusts.

Is that bump his cock?!

It is unbelievable that your body can even stretch that much to accommodate him. Your eyes follow in time with his thrusts, and though he starts slowly he builds up momentum steadily. When he glances down at where your union begins, he’s satisfied to see a sheen that can only be your wetness. He’s convinced your body wants his as desperately as he wants yours.

“Is this enjoyable?” He asks you, sweat forming at his temples.

You gasp when the head of his cock glides against your engorged clit once again. With the numbness, you cannot feel it, but he certainly can feel how you tighten around his cock in response. He groans.

“Yuutaaa,” you whine, the first time you’ve ever called him by name. He’s elated.

The base of his cock begins to swell.

You screw your eyes shut as he picks up speed, deep breaths and thick, pained grunts erupt from his throat. He sounds different, suddenly, and when you look down you realize why—his cock grows thicker, bumps that you presume are eggs pushing past your entrance.

“Wait—wait—” you beg, arms pushing desperately at the tail that weighs them down.

“I will give my eggs to you,” he tells you between ragged breaths. “This may hurt…”

The word hurt is a blatant misrepresentation of what happens next. His tongue had done a fantastic job of numbing your pussy for him, but it does nothing for your cervix. Yuuta grabs at your hips roughly, and pushes himself into you as deep as he will go. The base of his upper cock pressed hard against your clit, and you quite quickly orgasm all over his cock, squeezing quite tightly. And though you feel nothing but fullness around his cock inside you, your orgasm spurs on his own, his upper cock leaking onto your navel. His lower cock pushes against your cervix, and with pain so sharp it makes you cry out, multiple eggs push through into your womb. You lose count of how many, Yuuta biting at your shoulder, your neck, your jaw—anywhere and everywhere to distract you as he deposits into your womb. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, but when he pulls out, your body feels both full and weak, reeling from waves of pain both in your cervix and everywhere he’s bitten;

Yet, he is not finished.

He removes the lower cock and replaces it with the thinner upper one. You make no protest this time, letting him rut into your used cunt. He’s mumbling something against your throat, but with your body numbed and tired, you pay little attention to it.

Overstimulation takes hold as he continues to fuck you long after you’ve already come all over his cock. He bites onto your breast, fangs and all, leaving puncture wounds with every bite from your shoulder to your nipple.

How pretty you look under him, he thinks. He even hopes he’ll get another chance to do this with you, hopelessly infatuated with this little human he’d met only a week ago.

You helplessly spread your legs as wide as you can when he finishes inside you, coating your insides in his spend and inevitably fertilizing the eggs he’d placed inside you. And just like a snake would in the wild, his cock anchors itself inside you, twitching with the last bits of spend and keeping you locked onto his cock, not wasting even a drop. A weak, defeated moan leaves your lips as his cock stretches inside you once again, plugging you full.

“Yuuta…” you call for him weakly. His tail coils around you affectionately, his arms pulling your chest closer to his.

“You did so well… thank you,” he coos to your weary, sweaty body. “I’m glad I saved you.”

You vaguely wonder: if this is what being “saved” is, would being forsaken have been the better option?

So tired from the ordeal, you quickly succumb to sleep, not knowing the answer.

#SORRY IDK WHERE THIS CAME FROM SORRY !!#naga!yuuta #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #jjk x reader #cw.monsterfucking #cw.noncon #cw.oviposition #writing tag

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faerievampling · 3 months

Text

A Long Night

Summary: After Astarion and Tav have their first fight, Astarion is desperate to make up but can't fight his frustration. Set during Act 3, before the end of Astarion's personal quest.

word count: 1.5K

Link to AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, Explicit. Vaginal Fingering. Biting. Blood drinking. Angst. Astarion is a bit possessive. Soft dom Astarion. Mild dub-con.

A/N: I meant to post something sweet about spawn!astarion but it's not ready yet...but this is :)

You and Astarion had had your first fight. It was about Cazador’s ritual, of course; the topic had been coming to a boiling point between the two of you. You can’t even really remember what all was said, only the outcome of the conversation: Astarion put his foot down and told you that he was going to take the power regardless of what you wanted. He said it was for the best, for both of you. Then, he stormed off, leaving you and the rest of your party standing in the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

Your embarrassment quickly reached your face, and you shooed your companions away, wanting to be alone for a while. But now, after a long walk, you finally arrive at the Elfsong Tavern.

You make your way to you and Astarion’s room and begin to take your armor off: unfortunately for you, you wore heavy armor. Even after so many months of adventuring, getting your armor off was a task you still struggled with, especially after a long day. It was bulky, difficult to take apart, and so heavy. It often leaves you frustrated to deal with alone.

Astarion helped you take it off every night. He would pretend to be frustrated or annoyed with the task, but was always certainly happy with the result: that armor protected his beloved from the hardest hits.

You have only unclasped the right arm when you hear the opening of a door and feel another pair of hands on you. You already know it’s him. You’re greatly relieved, because part of you was worried he’d run from you. Astarion could be rather avoidant; the armor surrounding his mind might just be as tough as what you wear on the physical battlefield.

Astarion begins to work your armor off, not saying a word as he does. You allow yourself to breathe deeply, taking in his scent as he helps you shed the weight of the day.

Once you’re free, you shiver, feeling a bit exposed. As Astarion begins to take off his own armor, you gather your things and slink away to the washroom. Although Astarion usually joins you in the bath, you figure he won’t follow, because surely he is still angry.

He wants power. He said he wanted it for the both of you. Forever. For good. You wonder what he meant by that. You certainly understood the implication, but Astarion is known to embellish.

But you had already made your decision: you couldn’t allow it. You couldn’t allow your beloved to enter into a contract with Mephistopheles. To sacrifice seven thousand souls - it was unconscionable.

As you ease into the warm water, the smell of lavender wafts from the newly disturbed surface. You and Astarion had been lucky enough to get a private room with a washroom attached; the room resembled a small bathhouse more so than a wooden tub, which you had been grateful for, because it made for a luxurious experience.

You allow yourself to fully relax as you slide yourself to the depths of the tub, bringing your head underwater. You close your eyes and listen to the sound of your own blood pumping through your veins for as long as you can stand it. After an impressive length of time, you think to yourself, you hear the creak of the door. You bring yourself up, gasping for air as you push your hair out of your face.

Astarion is there, and because you’re a little shocked from his presence, you can’t help but watch, unblinking as he begins to peel away his underclothes.

Your heart races at the sight of his nakedness; the flicker of the candlelight dances across his muscular form, making your core feel swollen and needy. A blush rises to your cheeks and the tip of your ears, prompting Astarion to give you a little smile.

His body was perfect—his alabaster skin, his muscled form, even the impressive length of his cock, which was already half hard, you could see.

Astarion eases himself in the bath, water rippling around his gorgeous form. “I don’t want to fight anymore, love,” his voice is even, his hungry eyes sweeping over your naked body, lingering at the buds of your breasts that peek out from the water's surface.

Treading water, he comes to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap bridal style. He holds your gaze for a long moment before resting his forehead on yours.

You knew this tender moment was both an apology and a declaration of his love; one you appreciated, but were weary to accept. You want Astarion to use his words - to say he is sorry, or to ask for an apology, or something. You just wanted him to communicate, but you are so scared to push him.

He tenderly brushes his full lips onto your own, and you try not to react. You don’t want to give in. As you try to formulate the right words in your head, Astarion moves to the curve of your neck, pressing his lips to your pulse point before he nips at you, breaking your skin with the prick of a fang. A small droplet of blood blossoms from the wound, and you pull away, giving Astarion an incredulous look.

He’s supposed to ask.

He releases one of his arms from you, his hand trailing down the front of your body, brushing a nipple with his thumb before nestling between your legs. Fingertips graze your sensitive folds, making you shiver despite the warmth of the water.

“Astarion,” You plead before he slips a finger inside you, teasing your lips with his thumb; your walls contract around his knuckles, drawing him in deeper.

His lips meet yours, his tongue finding entry as he tastes you.

You can feel the increasing hardness of cock against your ass as his finger stirs inside you. You feel the pressure of a second finger against your entrance for just a moment before he slides it inside you, filling you up a bit sooner than you’re ready.

A desperate whimper escapes your lips as he stretches your walls. Astarion pumps in and out of you, fucking you with his fingers, every thrust going deeper until he’s curling his fingers inside you, pressing on that spot that is so sweet, tender, and so deeply nestled inside you.

You’re feeling your build up, that delicious feeling of the anticipation of ecstasy; you already want to come. But you can’t ignore your need to check in on your lover: you break away from his dedicated kisses, surveying his handsome face.

“Astarion,” Your voice is higher than usual. You try to pull away from him, but his arm has you locked in. What he is doing with his fingers threatens you every second, and you know you are so close, but you continue to edge yourself, holding back the come that threatens to gush from your folds.

“Tav,” His voice is low and full-bodied. “You needn’t pull away from me, you know.”

“You -” You begin to say, but Astarion only digs his fingers in harder, deeper, your impending orgasm becoming almost impossible to ignore, emptying your brain.

Astarion’s face twists, the frustration apparent on his face. “I’m fine,” he growls against your skin. “Am I not allowed to take my lover when I want? Would you really deny me that, too?” Before you can respond, his lips are on you, tongue crashing into yours as he continues his ministrations on you.

The nip of his fang on your lip causes you to gasp, but Astarion is lapping and sucking at it, his own murmurs of pleasure causing you to buck your hips into his hand. You spasm and struggle in his grasp, but before long, you can’t take it anymore, and you feel the shockwaves of pleasure emanating from your cunt all the way to your fingertips. You’re creaming around his fingers; your body is hazy, almost numb with pleasure.

The pulsing sensation of your cunt around Astarion’s fingers drives him nearly mad, and his fervent kisses are all over you. The brush of his lips and tongue could be felt on your cheeks, your neck, your ears.

He begins to nibble at you, leaving shallow bites in the wake of his kisses on your neck and shoulders. He’s marking you where he can, even though you both know it’s only temporary: he would douse you in healing potions and gentle touches after this, caring for your every ache and pain.

“You’re starting to prune, darling,” Astarion’s voice is low. “Why don’t you get out of here and meet me in our room? And don’t bother to dress yourself, my love. You’re in for a long night,” The sound of his voice makes the hair on your skin stand up, goosebumps covering your body despite the ever warm water.

You know your cheeks are flushed from the way Astarion is looking at you. His eyes are hooded, seductive, and the smirk on his lips almost meets his eyes.

“Tonight, I’m going to fuck you however I want, Tav. I’m going to bite you wherever I want, whenever, until I decide I’m satisfied.” Astarion’s voice draws a whimper from your lips, and he lightly chuckles. “Go on now, darling. I’ll be right behind you.”

Masterlist

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fic

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misserabella · 1 month

Text

puppy love pt.2

shane mccutcheon x fem! reader

pt.1

summary; shane had showed you real pleasure. but now she was just a mere ghost, haunting you.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!!!, heavy use of drugs and alcohol, hookups (r has sex with another girl), fighting, teasing, tension!!, groping, piercings, tit playing, nipple sucking (both receiving), kinda switch shane but goes back to being dom, oral sex! (shane receiving), hair pulling (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), hickeys, making out, dirty talking, praising, use of good girl, cum eating, choking (r receiving), orgasm delay (r receiving), scissoring, multiple orgasms, breeding kink??…

something you should’ve expected from shane mcutcheon was that she would run away. but against your better judgement you still had hopes that she wouldn’t. that this would have meant something. silly of you to think it would.

she had made you cum. she had fucked you. she had showed you what real pleasure felt like and then she had dipped.

left you there for you to drown in your thoughts. and in alcohol.

“woah, woah. take it easy.” your friend charlotte, from the group you’ve gone out partying, tried to stop you from taking another swing from your drink. of course, that was an uneasy task.

you hadn’t been this off tracks since your teenage years. you were drowning glass after glass of liquor, cups that men and women would buy for you. it was quite easy to let them…

even easier to fall into the arms of a beautiful woman with black wavy hair and caramel eyes. her hands were warm, not like shane’s ice cold ones, and her kisses were soft, not like shane’s, which had knocked your breath out of your lungs.

why were you still thinking about her?

she was beautiful. and kind. and seemed to really like you. and the coke she had offered you only made it all seem better.

you pushed her closer, kissed her harder, until her tongue was breaching your lips and her touch became rougher, grabbing at your ass and making you moan.

yes. this was what you needed.

“come with me.” you muttered against her lips, taking her hand and pulling from her towards the club’s bathrooms, which oddly enough were empty. you kissed her as you walked her into one of the cubicles, closing the door behind your back and locking it. you were high out of your mind. and so drunk everything looked like in a daydream. you two made out until your lungs were pleading for oxygen and she was getting on her knees, pushing up your dress and pulling aside you panties to dive in between your thighs. you sighed at the feeling of her tongue, your back pressed against one of the walls of the bathroom stalls. you were sure this wasn’t the first indecent act they’ve seen before. and as good as it felt… you couldn’t feel good. not when she sucked on your clit, or when her fingers pushed inside to fuck you open.

so after a while, you started to fake it. so it could just be over and you could get back to drinking. or maybe finally get home. who cares.

lucky enough your seemed to be good at faking your orgasm, ‘cause she was smiling against your lips once she had gotten back on her feet. “let me buy you another drink, hm?” she offered.

and once again, you couldn’t say no.

you were absolutely and utterly fucked up. you couldn’t even walk straight. and if you could even think, you’d for sure wonder how were you even walking right now.

“come on, we’re almost there.” that sultry soft voice filled your ears.

oh yeah, maybe it was because of the gentle hands that kept you upright.

you looked at your right, and her greenish eyes were staring straight as you. you scoffed. “not you…” more like slurred.

of course it would be shane mccutcheon.

“what are you doing here?” you inquired her, feeling her touch burn your skin there where she held you.

“you’re fucked up.” she ignored you, and you laughed, shaking your head on a nod that had you feeling dizzy.

how she had found you? you had no idea. maybe it had to be with marina ferrer, her friend’s local that you had ended up on this late in the middle of the night, sniffing coke until you felt your nose would start bleeding. you couldn’t really take a moment to think about that possibility at that moment. not when she looked so good.

“how much did you take?” she asked, and you laughed, shrugging your shoulders as you let her wide you up the stairs of her house’s porch.

“not enough it seems.” ‘cause you’re still here, and i can’t stop thinking about you and it’s killing me. you could’ve said. but instead you silenced yourself, watching her slide the key in the lock and open the door for the two of you. “i was having fun. you ruined it.” you sighed, your blown out eyes squinting at the intensity of the lights she had just turned on.

“what, with that girl you were with?” you looked at her, and her face looked serious, deadly even.

“actually yeah.”

“you fucked her?”

you scoffed, looking at her with an incredulous face. “why the fuck do you care?”

“did you. fuck her.” she repeated, slower and you took a deep breath.

“yeah. i did.” you stared at her unchanging face, her strong façade. you wanted to punch it to pieces. why was she asking about this? she had fucked you. you were just one more stupid girl on her list. so why?

“what did she do?” her voice broke the silence after a beat, maybe two. the air was thick.

“what?”

“you heard me. what did she do to you?” you huffed.

“you’re unbelievable.” you shook your head.

“i’m the unbelievable one? you were so sad that you went off and fucked some girl at the club?”

“i guess i’m fucked up like that.” you shrugged and she sighed. “reminds me of someone i know.” you smirked.

“you’re a fucking kid.”

“oh yeah? well you didn’t mind me being a kid when you were eating me out.”

“jesus christ.” she muttered and you rolled your eyes.

“im too high for this shit.” you went ahead and tried to scurry yourself away from her but she was quick enough to stop you, her strong grip surrounding your wrist. you were closer than before. you could smell her stupidly attractive perfume, see the little lines that decorated her face, the freckles she’d gotten due to the numerous summers under the sun…

“but not high enough to get fucked?” she spat, and you looked at her with an incredulous face. “did it feel good? did she make you cum? did she make you feel like i did?” your lips were sealed as she pushed you against the wall, her breath mangling with yours.

“and what if she did?” you inquired, your eyes on hers, and she smirked, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. you gasped at the sudden feeling of one of her hands sliding in between your thighs, her fingertips trailing over the wet patch on your panties, which she had managed to create in just a couple of minutes. she hadn’t even touched you, jesus christ.

“but did she?” you bit down on your lip, feeling the painful need of an orgasm that never came. “poor thing. of course not. no one can make you feel like i do, isn’t that right, doll?” you let out a sigh as you felt her fingers rub up and down your sticky folds, drenching the cloth of your underwear.

“fuck you.” you spat and she chuckled.

“you wish.” she muttered just centimeters away from your lips. you unconsciously chased after her when she brushed her plump lips against yours, gasping as her free hand came up to surround your neck and keep you in place. you shivered when she found the crook on your neck and made her way up to your ear. “but you’ve already got that other girl to do that, don’t you?” and just like that she let go of you, leaving the air surrounding you now empty and cold on her absence. “left a pillow and a blanket for you on the sofa.” that was the last thing she said before closing the door of her room behind her back, not even giving you a goodbye.

and you just knew by the way your head was starting to pound that you’d have a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning.

next time you saw shane was while you were out partying. again. if you didn’t go out you’d be too deep into your head. it would mess you up. ‘cause you missed her. so fucking badly it was actually ripping you to pieces.

of course, it was a friday night. and you knew what that meant. you were at marina’s local, who welcomed you with a hug and a worried look on her face that you dismissed. she could see shane on your eyes, could feel her on your touch. she had branded you. and now you were following her steps. she just hoped history wouldn’t repeat itself this time.

“she’s here.” she muttered on your ear, more like a warning, a heads up. but you already knew that. shane indulged on a couple of drinks herself every friday. that’s why you’d come ready, on a tight black night dress that made your curves show and your tits almost overflow its cups. your heels were bloody red, just like your lips, and your eyes were smudged in black eyeliner, making them pop.

“thanks marina.” you gave her a sweet smile before wandering off into the crowd and perching yourself on the bar, asking for a couple of shots and a lemon vodka.

the alcohol burned your throat, warming up your body. by the time you threw yourself into the dancing crowd you could feel her eyes on you. you were the center of attention. you looked good, and you knew it. you talked and laughed, and danced with girls and boys until your feet hurt.

you didn’t know how many drinks you’ve had, but you felt lethargic and euphoric. you could feel the music seeping into your skin and vibrating your soul. your hips moved to the rhythm of the song, your back arching as you played with your hair. you had everyone on a trance, like a siren calling for the sailors, menacing with their drowning. but who could help themself? shane surely couldn’t.

she hated her guts. for being drawn to you, to the light like a moth would. but her hands had found your hips, and your warmth ignited her skin on fire. you always did this. always hung in front of her like the perfect bait, the perfect sin. and she wanted to sink her teeth into you, so badly…

you sighed when you felt her touch. you knew it was her. you could know her by touch alone. how couldn’t you? you could breath her.

your back rested against her chest, her mouth on your neck.

“everyone’s looking at you.” she muttered, and you chuckled, one of your hands lacing on her hair when she left a soft kiss on your suple skin.

“i just want you.” you said. there was alcohol running through your veins. but there was something about shane. only her had the power to leave you completely sober but high at the same time. a mixture of impossibility that had you breathless and in need of more.

“you can’t keep playing with me.” one of her hands surrounded you to pull you closer, palm resting against your stomach, her crotch against your ass. your senses felt overstimulated by her. all you could feel was her, all you could smell was her, all you could think was her.

shane, shane, shane…

“i thought you liked the game. you know… the one in which you pretend you don’t want it as much as i do.” you muttered against her lips, your eyes meeting her green ones.

it was like a game of chess. one wrong move and the king could fall. but isn’t that what you wanted? what she wanted?

you pulled away from her, your hand taking the one that rested on your stomach as you stepped away from her touch.

“what’s your move, shane?”

“you drive me crazy.” she muttered against your lips, her hands newly on your hips, your back against the door of her house, which encapsulated the two of you in a game of tug and let go. “you don’t know what you do to me.” she whined, and you were pulling from the buttons on her shirt, simply pushing it over her head to leave her chest bare to your hungry eyes. she tilted her head back with a silent moan when your mouth found her sensitive nipples, sucking and teasing them with your fingers. “your father’s gonna kill us.” you hummed, looking up at her. the way you prettily tongued at her chest, how your doe eyes stared into her half-lidded ones, how your pink and plump lips surrounded her nipples… she was fucked.

“we’re already dead.” you muttered against her mouth as you pulled up your dress, getting rid of it to show her the lingerie you wore underneath.

shane groaned, pulling you from your neck to meet your tongue. you sighed in relief in her mouth, opening up for her own, moaning at the feeling of the kisses you swore took all your breath away.

the two of you gripped at each other as if you were drowning and you were each others life saver.

somehow, you made your way to her bedroom, your back arching at the wet kisses shane left on your neck and breasts, but her hands left your body as she fell back first onto her bed. you got onto your knees, and jesus, now shane could believe in god. she wetted her lips, her intense stare on you as you unbuttoned her jeans. you bit down on your bottom one as the zip lowered, looking at her as if you were begging. you didn’t have to. shane was rising her hips for you to pull down her pants and underwear down and off her legs. she felt blessed.

your mouth watered as you stared in between her thighs, she was soaked, and so fucking beautiful. your hands found her skin to spread her apart further and she sighed. there was no need to talk. your bodies did all the talking for you. and you owed her an orgasm.

her hand on your hair was the cue to dive in between her thighs.

“fuuuck.” she cursed at the feeling of your tongue. she already knew you could use it with your words, but this… “we really shouldn’t be doing this.” she said, but when you sucked on her clit, she only contradicted herself by pulling you closer against her core. “shit. don’t stop.” you moaned, your fingers digging on her flesh as you buried yourself impossibly closer in between her folds, lapping at her arousal in long strips and flicking your tongue against her puffy clit.

shane tasted heavenly. she was like a drug, the more you took the more you needed her. you pushed her legs over your shoulders for better accessibility as one of your hands made your way under your chin so your fingers could meet her entrance. her hips pushed against your touch, almost as if she was begging for you to touch her, to make her cum. and who were you to say no to her?

shane moaned when you thrusted your middle and ring finger into her pussy, her tight and warm slick walls squeezing your fingers in a heart-like rhythm. you needed to hear more of her like this. you could get high on it, maybe even cum as her pretty voice filled the room.

“fuck baby, yeah, just like that. so good. good girl.” she praised when you curled them to find that spongey spot that left her light-headed. your tongue toyed with her clit meanwhile, the stimulation driving her closer to her long awaited release.

you whimpered at her words, your cunt throbbing in need as you humped you own heels for some kind of friction.

“i’m gonna cum. gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours, fuck.” she gasped, her hips subconsciously thrusting against your fingers and tongue.

you got impatient, driven by the need to taste her on your tongue, curling your fingers faster, sucking on her clit harder, until you felt her hold on your hair tighten and her thighs tremble, a moan leaving her mouth as she fell apart, soaking your chin and lips and filling your mouth.

you hummed, fucking her through it until the very last drop of her cum had been drank. you let her go with a soft kiss to her clit, licking your fingers clean under her intense and hungry stare. shane sat up, guiding you up onto your feet, looking up at you with a desire that threatened with breaking your bones.

her eyes ranked up and down your body, still clad in lingerie. her hands found your waist, pulling you so close you ended up falling on her lap, her mouth on your chest and neck, sucking new bruises that you’d wear like a jewel.

“shane…” you whined, and she understood, one of her hands easily getting rid of the clasp of your bra, throwing it aside to suck on your tits and pierced nipples. “fuck…” you toyed with her brunette hair, tugging at her strands in pleasure, your hips thrusting against her own in need of release.

“want to fuck you so bad, baby.“ she groaned, one of her hands cupping your pussy over your panties, her fingers easily finding and playing with your clit.

“then do it. shit. fuck me, shane. fuck me.” you whined, and with that she was flipping you over and burying you on the sheets, practically ripping your panties off of you. her fingers didn’t wait to part your soaked lips. she grunted, burying her face on your neck.

“so fucking wet…” she almost whined, and your nails dug on her back.

“shane, please…” you begged. it hurt. it hurt so bad. this need you had for her, this hunger that only her could satiate…

“shh, i got you baby. i got you.” she promised, making you whimper and gasp as she thrusted her fingers inside of your welcoming and sopping cunt. “so warm and ready for me…”

your jaw fell slack as she plunged them deeper, her lips kissing the side of it. the squelches of your slick as she started moving them in and out of you making you blush.

“you hear her baby? so needy…” she muttered against your skin, her hips thrusting against your hand and making her fingers reach your cervix.

“shane!” you screamed at the roughness of her movements, the curling of her digits straight onto your g spot. your legs surrounded her hips to bring her closer.

“so fucking pretty screaming my name…” she sighed, her free hand coming up to surround and squeeze your neck.

“i’m not gonna last…” you cried out, the constant abuse on your g spot making you feel dizzy. the warmth of your upcoming orgasm expanding through your lower stomach.

“hold it. i want you to cum on my pussy.” she ordered, pulling away from you and pulling out her fingers from your gaping core. you cried out, feeling your release subsiding.

your watery eyes stared up at her as she made a quick work of positioning your legs and herself in between them. she held one of your own as she sunk down against your pussy, the feeling making the two of you moan and grunt.

“fuck. you feel so good…” she gasped, thrusting against you, making your clits catch and getting out a whimper from your chest.

“shane, shane, shane…” you chanted her name like a prayer to a god, your own hips twitching against hers for more friction. squelching sounds of your pussies gliding against the other filled the air, along with your moans and whimpers. “i can’t. can’t. i’m gonna cum!” you cried out, feeling with every hump your release growing closer.

“cum for me, let me see it fucking drip.” she grunted with a harsh thrust. and with that you were falling apart under her. your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave and drowning you in pleasure. “thaat’s it. good girl. good fucking girl.” she moaned. “fuck. you’re soaking my pussy so good baby. so fucking good.”

“shit. you’re gonna make me cum again. gonna make me cream your pussy. fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m gonna fill you up baby, im gonna-“

due to her recent orgasm she was sensitive. so fucking sensitive that with the sight of your pretty face cumming for her, and the moaning of her name falling from your lips brought her to her second orgasm of the night.

…

the king had fallen. and the game was over. or was it?

a/n; this took so long to write omg😭. but i’m actually happy w it??? hope y’all enjoyed it❤️

#shane mccutcheon x reader #shane x reader #shane mccutcheon smut #shane mccutcheon imagine #shane smut #shane fluff #shane angst #shane l word #l word shane #shane mccutcheon #the l word x reader #the l word smut #the l word imagine #the l word fan fiction #the l word

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wlntrsldler · 1 month

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poisoned mercury | close as strangers (post chb)

a/n: okayyyy so i didn't give them an angst ending but i had to give into the angst monster at least once for this series so here's a bonus chapter for poisoned mercury. miscommunication galore. long distance is hard! two dumbasses in love!

song: close as strangers by 5sos

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"i'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" luke whispered, trying not to wake his bandmates up. the tour bus was large enough to house them while they were on the road, but it didn't really give the privacy he hoped for. chris was just across the narrow walkway from him and luke could hear his soft snores through the thin curtain that separated them.

luke felt his heart hammering in his chest when you didn't reply to him. he could still hear your breaths through the phone and you were just talking to him a second ago, so he knew you were still awake. you both had equally busy lives which meant that your phone calls were getting shorter and shorter each day. luke knew it was because you were booked with school and tournaments for field hockey and he was always exhausted after each meeting now that the band was working on their second album. luke knew all of this, but it didn't stop him from missing you. he was lucky to get a ten-minute call with you nowadays.

"baby?" he tried again, chewing on his bottom lip. he turned to face the ceiling of his bunk, the light from his phone casting a shadow on his face as he waited for you to say something. anything. "can i call you tomorrow?"

you sighed, "i don't know, luke. i have a busy day. it's a travel game tomorrow so i don't know if i'll be up late."

"oh," he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment. he felt a little stupid that there were tears pooling in his eyes. so you can't talk tomorrow, it shouldn't be a big deal, right? except that luke felt like you were pulling away from him. little by little. and he didn't know how to stop it. it wasn't like he could drop everything to show up at your doorstep and fix things with you. if it was up to him, he would do it in a heartbeat, but you'd probably get mad at him for it, for abandoning his responsibilities as the lead singer of the most popular band in the world. not to mention the boys would be livid and mr. d and his mom would be equally furious.

"sorry, maybe next week?"

"yeah, sure," he replied, thankful that you weren't on facetime tonight. he didn't want you to see his face. "alright, i'll let you get some rest. go kill it tomorrow. g'night, five star."

"goodnight," you said, ending the call as soon as the last syllable left your lips.

luke groaned quietly, tossing his phone on the foot of his bed. he knew long distance was going to be difficult. it's been months since he last saw you, months since he was at camp half blood, sleeping in your bed and waking up to the feeling of your lips peppering kisses on his face. maybe he shouldn't have gotten so attached so fast, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.

he got out from his bunk, tucking his feet into his slippers and made his way to the living room area of the bus. he sat on the couch, peering out the window to watch the empty roads ahead. they were on their way to nashville to meet with a producer that mr. d recommended. the second album was almost done, but it was missing something and none of them wanted to put out a record that didn't meet their expectations.

mr. d was already in tennessee waiting for them. he'd flown in from houston a few days ago with luke's mom and the rest of the poisoned mercury team while the boys were in atlanta for a movie premiere. they decided that a road trip was needed to de-stress after the glitz and buzz of the red carpet. it was nice to have some alone time with the boys. in their tour bus, luke felt like they were back in connecticut, just four friends fucking around, writing music, and eating junk food until their stomachs hurt.

he turned on the tv, switching to some random channel that he wasn't paying attention to. he just needed some noise to drown out his thoughts, but that didn't seem to work. all he could think of was you, his five star, and how much he missed you. luke wondered if you were having second thoughts about this whole thing. maybe he'd been too optimistic about things; maybe you weren't on the same page as he was; maybe you realized that it was too difficult to be with him.

a shiver ran down his spine as he spiraled into his thoughts. admitting to himself that something was wrong between the two of you left a bitter taste in his mouth because he didn't want to believe it. he saw you as his endgame, like nobody else in the world could compare to you, and to think that you may not feel the same about him... well, it was a difficult pill to swallow.

he wondered if he came on too strong, showed his cards too early, and seemed too clingy and lovestruck before it was deemed appropriate. you'd only been together, officially at least, for four months, most of which were long distance, but luke knew he was a goner for you way before that.

he silently cursed as the chill of the december air hit his skin. he should've worn a hoodie. he grabbed the small throw blanket draped over the armchair and placed it around his shoulders. he wished he got to see you over thanksgiving break because maybe you two wouldn't be in this rocky situation right now, but your coach ordered you and clarisse to stay on campus over break to sharpen your skills since you missed summer training. luke and chris were less than pleased with the idea, but they knew it was out of their control.

luke fell asleep on the couch that night after succumbing to the tiredness in his body. the sun was beginning to rise by the time his eyelids fluttered shut. he hoped that he'd wake up to a text from you, but when he woke up to the sound of the bus screeching to a halt in nashville, he realized it was the hope that kills.

“are you guys going to the fall concert?” silena asked, poking her head out of the bathroom. she was part of the planning committee for the unc fall semester concert and she’d been stressing over the logistics of it for weeks.

“lena, if we even tried to miss it, you’d kill us,” clarisse chuckled, putting on a coat of mascara. “you’ve been talking about this since we got back.”

the three of you were getting ready in your dorm. you and clarisse were roommates this year, thank gods for athlete privileges, and silena lived in the building next door in a single since she was an ra. how she had the time to be an ra, be a member of the music festival planning committee, and be a full-time student was truly beyond your comprehension.

“lena, calm down. it’ll be good,” you squeezed her shoulders as you passed by behind her, grabbing your lipgloss from the counter. “and even if it sucks, half the people in the crowd are either drunk or high or both and will probably not remember it.”

“true,” she snorted, curling the final piece of her hair. she unplugged her hair curler and gave herself one last look in the mirror, “i’ll see you guys there? i gotta go make sure shit didn’t hit the fan.”

you and clarisse nodded as silena said her goodbyes. you dabbed on some lipgloss, glancing down at your phone every few seconds. clarisse side-eyed you, unable to hide her smile, “you waitin’ for a text?”

“shut up,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. she didn't really know that your relationship was a little muddy at the moment. you weren’t the best at talking about your feelings and it felt wrong to talk about your relationship drama when clarisse and chris seemed to be going strong. “they’re supposed to land in los angeles ten minutes ago.”

“their flight probably got delayed, y/n,” she replied, “happens all the time.”

“no, i know, but just wanna make sure they’re safe, y’know?”

clarisse crossed her arms over her chest, “they’re safe or he’s safe?”

you ignored her question, opting to busy yourself with the weather app on your phone to avoid any follow-up questions, “how are you not checking your phone for a text from chris right now?”

she shrugged, “he always knocks out on long flights so i don’t expect a text until he gets to their hotel.”

“how are you and chris, by the way? i know we live together and shit, but i feel like we haven’t gotten to talk about it in detail since we’re always so tired from school and practice.”

“we’re good,” clarisse hummed, “just miss him loads, though. i haven’t seen him since we left camp– what? four, almost five, months ago?”

you were in the same boat, kind of. you and luke hadn’t seen each other in months and you were getting antsy. they’d been on the road for the past few months, meeting with producers and fulfilling their contractual obligations. they hadn’t been in a set location long enough for you to be able to fly out to see luke, even just for a weekend.

at first, there were movie dates where you’d order each other food and eat and watch the movie on facetime together. there were weekly phone calls and daily texts, but nothing compares to the real thing. being with luke in person was something that you were craving. camp half blood spoiled you with having him all for yourself and now that you were back in school and he’s out in the world, it was beginning to weigh on you.

you missed him. a lot.

you missed kissing him and feeling his lips break out into a smile when you’d mumble something stupid. you missed feeling his arms around you, hugging you from behind while you got ready for the day. you even missed waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of him scribbling random lyrics on pieces of scrap paper he found in your room when he slept over.

long distance is hard and sure, luke wouldn’t be the type to cheat or do anything to jeopardize your relationship, but it still didn’t stop a knot from forming in your stomach every time a picture of him or the band popped up on your social media with a gorgeous singer, actor, or model that they ran into on the red carpet. what if he realizes one day that he wants someone who lives the same life as him? wild and adventurous, not tied down by school or sports?

a part of you felt silly for being so insecure about things. it was too early in the relationship to have this conversation, isn’t it? you knew that your avoidance of the topic was starting to affect your relationship with luke, as much as you wished it didn’t, but what if the minute you voice your concerns, he’ll realize that being with you was more than he bargained for? after all, you weren’t the same five star with all the time in her hands, care-free, and relaxed that he met at camp. there was a chance that luke would call it quits on this if you said anything and it felt like too big of a risk to take.

your phone buzzed on the counter, indicating a text.

from: luke <3

‘landed and jetlagged. gonna sleep for a few. enjoy the concert babe!’

you hearted the message and slipped your phone into your back pocket after sending him a quick goodnight text. the three dots popped up for a second, then in a blink, they disappeared. read at 8:43 pm.

“you ready?”

you snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of clarisse’s voice. you nodded and grabbed your small purse before heading out the door. you ran into a group of your teammates who were heading to the amphitheater across campus for the concert. the walk seemed to fly by as they cracked jokes and shared stories about random things. you stayed silent for the most part, only laughing along when it seemed like the right time, but your mind was somewhere else. your mind was in los angeles.

by the time you got to the venue, you and clarisse separated from the group to enter the vip tent, courtesy of silena. a small crowd was beginning to form in front of the stage, taking up the grassy field. charlie was already at the tent, sipping on an ipa when he saw the two of you. his face broke out into a wide smile, giving you and clarisse a quick hug before leading you to the seats he saved.

“season’s looking promising for you guys, charlie,” you commented, accepting the high noon he offered. “the team’s looking good out there.”

“thanks,” he beamed, “don’t think we’re on the level of national champs just yet like you guys, but we’re trying!”

“you guys are doing great,” clarisse chimed in, “the energy in the stadium is electric this year. makes me love college.”

“are you telling me the papers and tests aren’t what makes you love college, la rue?” charlie teased.

she snorted, “oh yeah, because i just love staying up until 1 am writing a paper on greek mythology for classics 101.”

the three of you fell into a comfortable conversation about the class you were all taking. it was a prerequisite class that most athletes choose to take because the professor was flexible with deadlines when it came to athletes. it was helpful especially when a team has to play beyond their season for tournaments or championships. about ten minutes before the opening act got on stage, silena rushed into the tent.

“guys, please you need to come with me. i need your help,” she said frantically. she was nervously tugging on her ‘staff’ badge around her neck, already halfway out of the tent as she waited for the three of you to follow her. “please, it’s an emergency.”

“woah, lena, what’s going on?” you asked, getting up to comfort her. you followed her through the crowd, grabbing clarisse’s hand to keep her close.

silena shook her head, continuing her march through the sea of people, “just come with me, i’ll explain when we get backstage.”

you and clarisse looked at each other, feeling bad for silena. she put in her blood, sweat, and tears into this concert and you knew that she would beat herself up over it if something went wrong. silena always put her all into the projects she’s passionate about, but sometimes things outside of her control happen and unfortunately, she blames herself for it.

in the whirlwind of ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’, the four of you managed to make your way backstage. it was chaotic. people were running around everywhere making sure everything was set for the opening act. the girl who was opening the concert was waiting by the wings, her guitar strapped across her chest as she took some deep breaths. the crowd wasn’t full yet, but you knew that if you were in that position, you’d still be sweating buckets. going out there on stage to perform for strangers was nerve-racking. you didn’t know how luke did it. you admired that about him.

“lena, are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” clarisse questioned, picking up the pace of her steps to match silena.

silena stopped in front of a door, slowly turning to face you and clarisse. suddenly, her stressed facade faded as she twisted the doorknob, “why don’t you see for yourself?”

if you weren’t so confused about what was going on, you would’ve seen charlie lift his can up to his lips to hide his smile at how proud he was of his girlfriend for her acting skills. when the door opened, your heart stopped.

luke was here.

he stood in the middle of the room beside chris with a nervous smile on his face. he was wearing a black leather jacket on top of a white tank top and black pants. his poisoned mercury chain hung from his neck, shining under the overhead lights. his hands were stuffed in his front pockets, shy and timid, as he waited for your reaction.

clarisse screamed when it hit her that chris was actually here. she ran to him and nearly tackled him to the floor. chris wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and laughed as she giggled into his neck. the two of them shared a heartfelt reunion before rushing out of the room to get some privacy. the sound of the door shutting behind you made you blink.

luke cleared his throat, right hand scratching the back of his neck, “hey, five star.”

the nickname brought you back to your senses. you ran to him, engulfing him in a tight hug with an ‘umph.’ at first, luke was tense under your touch, unsure if you’d be happy with his surprise, but quickly, he melted into you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing in content as your familiar scent surrounded him. he felt sparks coursing through his veins as you hugged him tighter and all he could think about was how good it felt to have you in his arms again. his mind was still reeling at your reaction. he didn’t expect you to run to him like this, especially not when it felt like you’d been avoiding his calls over the last few weeks.

“what are you doing here?” you asked him, pulling away to hold his face in your hands. your eyes twinkled as you raked over his face, still in disbelief that he was actually in front of you. “you’re supposed to be in la.”

luke couldn’t stop the lopsided smile on his face, “well, i lied? we were in nashville recording with your dad and he mentioned that he didn’t schedule a session for us this weekend in case me and chris wanted to take a trip to north carolina, so here we are.”

you ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, whispering, “here you are.”

“god, i missed you so much,” he said, voice breaking. “you have no idea how hard it’s been.”

you gulped, your hold on his face faltering a bit. if luke wasn’t on edge, he wouldn’t have noticed the falter in your step, but he felt the slight hesitation in your actions. your warm touch slowly peeled away from his face and he instantly regretted saying those words. here he goes being clingy again. he removed his hands from your waist, clearing his throat. he sat on the couch, motioning for you to sit beside him. he tried to keep his hands to himself when you left a space between the two of you.

“i still can’t believe you’re really here,” you said, staring at him. you wanted to lean over and hold him in your arms again, but there was a weird tension in the air that made you feel queasy. “i feel like i’m dreaming right now.”

“i hope you’re not mad that i’m here,” luke looked down at his lap, flexing his hands. he had to keep his hands busy or else he’d surely reach for yours and he didn’t want to come on too strong. he had to keep his distance. he didn’t want to scare you off any more than he already did. “there was just an opening in the schedule and i-i wanted to see you.”

“i’m not mad at all.”

“good, good,” he replied. silence. he forced himself to look up from his lap, twisting his body to face you. he bit his bottom lip, trying to build up the courage to ask his next question. “are we okay?”

“we’re okay.”

“okay because i feel like things have been different between us lately,” he pursed his lips, looking at you with sad eyes. his tongue poked out the corner of his lips, eyes darting between you and the wall behind you. “i don’t know. i feel like we haven’t talked in ages, y’know? and i know you’re busy and you have a great life here that i’m not really a part of, but uh, i wanna be, y’know? i don’t know much about school or field hockey, but it’s important to you and you’re important to me so i wanna hear about it.”

he was met with more silence. luke continued, “maybe i’m asking for too much when i ask you to let me be a part of this life, but uh, i miss you? and i just feel like i’m losing you and that’s the last thing i want. so you gotta give me something, five star. tell me what i can do to be better.”

“if you need me to back off, i’ll do it, you know? you call the shots. you tell me what you need from me, and i’ll do it, okay? i just– i can’t lose this. i don’t wanna lose you,” luke mumbled. “maybe this is all in my head too. i don’t know anymore.”

you shuddered, lip quivering, “i feel like i’m holding you back.”

“what?”

“come on, luke,” you flicked away the tear that trickled down your cheek, “you’re out there in the world doing what you love. meeting new people. living your life and i don’t want to hold you back from that. we met each other when i didn’t have all these responsibilities and who i was at camp is not who i am here and i know you love those impromptu adventures and trips and spontaneity. a-and i can’t give that to you.”

“you deserve someone who can live this life with you and i’m stuck here for two more years, luke. i can’t do that,” it was getting hard to breathe. your throat felt like it was closing up, cutting off your airflow. you’d been putting off this conversation for weeks. it didn’t feel right to talk about this over the phone, and you thought that you had a few more weeks to figure out what to say to him when you saw him for winter break, but he was here now. “you deserve more than facetime calls and text messages, and that’s all i can offer.”

“is this–” he paused, licking his lips. “is this not what you want anymore?”

“what?”

“this, us? is this just not what you want anymore?”

an involuntary laugh escaped you as you wiped under your eye, “castellan, i don’t think i could stop wanting you even if i wanted to. and you know when we first met, i really wanted to.”

luke moved closer to you, just an inch or two, trying to gauge your reaction. you didn’t move away, which he took as a good sign, “i’m confused. why do you sound like you want to end this then?”

“i don’t want you to settle for this,” you sighed, “i know what you deserve and it isn’t this.”

“bullshit.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him in disbelief, “what?”

“i’m sorry, five star, but that’s bullshit,” a small smile was tugging on his lips. he reached over to place a hand over yours. his fingers traced your knuckles, running the pads of his fingers across the familiar ridges of your skin. “i don’t understand how after all this time you still don’t realize that all i want is you. it’s ridiculous, really.”

“it’s ridiculous?”

“it’s ridiculous,” he chuckled wetly. his other hand rubbed at his eyes, clearing his foggy vision. “our situation isn’t ideal, i know that, but i’d take long distance with you over anything else with anyone else. don’t you get it, five star? you’re it for me. if this isn’t what you want anymore, i’ll accept that. but if you’re only doing this because you don’t think i want this… five star, i want it all with you. long distance. phone calls. text messages. weekend trips when we can get them. distance has nothing on how i feel about you.”

leave it to luke castellan to make you blush. you shyly looked at him, eyes twinkling with something more than either of you bargained for when you first met in that secret spot you call yours, “how do you feel about me?”

“i’m not gonna say it right now because i don’t want to have the first time be while we’re in a fight,” luke laughed. the air was starting to clear. “but i have a feeling you know.”

“i know,” you squeezed his hand three times, “i do too.”

“will you put me out of my misery and kiss me please?”

“always so fucking dramatic,” you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes, but you leaned over and pressed your lips to his.

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