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empresskylo · 1 year

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can you do something with the cod men when you're mad at them? like how they would react to that?

includes: simon, könig, johnny, price, & alejandro. afab!reader; referred to in feminine terminology. nsfw content! a/n: i got a little carried away with ghost's so his is quite a bit longer than the others. my bad.

Ghost

♡ he doesn’t like when you’re mad at him, but he also doesn’t let it bother him too much. he’s glad you care enough to actually get mad at him. it’s a weird way of him knowing you care deeply about him. but it only infuriates you more when you’re cursing him out and he’s just standing there smiling at you.

♡ ghost likes to think that sex is the answer to everything with you. and i mean…. i wouldn’t complain.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖

♡ you were sitting down on simon’s bed, annoyed and pouting. you had rehearsed what you were going to say to him over and over in your head as you waited, pissed. the anger inside you skyrocketed the second ghost appeared at his door. he sauntered over to you, clearly seeing the ire spreading over your features. “what’s wrong, pet?” he asked you, his hand reaching out and skimming your chin softly. he tilted your head up with one bent finger so you were looking at him. “you mad at me?” you could hear the playfulness in his tone. god, his voice was so attractive when he spoke lowly like that. you momentarily forgot the entire reason you were sitting here waiting for him. “I think that’s quite obvious.” you scoffed, shaking your head out of his grip. “mmm. want to get it out of your system then, yeah?” he asked. you knew he didn’t mean letting you curse him out while he sat there and took the beating. he meant fucking you. you clenched your fists as ghost stroked his fingers through your hair, twirling the end of a strand absentmindedly. “simon,” you began, ready to chew him out. before you could finish your sentence, simon was hunched over, his hands on his knees, level with you, placing a kiss on your jaw, his hand somehow grabbing your rising wrist without looking as you reached up to push him away. then he kissed your neck, and back up to your jaw. he saw the goosebumps rise on your flesh. he hovered his lips above yours. you could feel them ever so slightly as you spoke. His hand still clutching your wrist in his. “we can’t just fuck every time we’re mad at each other,” your voice was much less confident now compared to mere moments ago. ghosts eyes darted between your own, kissing just below your lips then hovering above them again. “sure we can." you gulped as simon pushed you back on his bed. you gave such little resistance that you wanted to scold yourself for being so weak. You saw ghost smile, knowing you were succumbing to him, barely able to even put up a fight. It was so fucking easy for him. You wanted this as much as he did. his hands teased the hem of your shirt as he finally connected your lips together. his tongue entered your mouth as his hands moved south, slowly unbuttoning your pants. you groaned into the kiss, ghost’s fingers teasing your slit over your underwear. He pulled away and yanked your jeans the rest of the way off. he left kisses along the inside of your thigh, stopping at your clothed core. he hooked his fingers along the hem of your panties and pulled them down painfully slow. he settled himself back between your legs, his hands sliding up to your waist and yanking you closer to the edge of the bed making you gasp. “m’sorry, pet,” he cooed, his voice laced with lust. you whimpered as he attached his lips to you, and began sucking and licking. your hands gripped the bed sheets as you felt one of his fingers slide inside of you, his mouth working your clit simultaneously. “m’sorry,” he mumbled against you. you could barely hear him as you let him pump his fingers inside you, his mouth making obscene noises as he devoured you. right before you were about to come, he paused. you whined as a now shirtless simon hovered above you. He pried the shirt from your body and leaned his head down to place kisses on your neck as he mumbled apologizes. “m’sorry. m’sorry. m’sorry. ” he whispered against your skin. he kissed your nipple then sucked it into his mouth. you groaned when he released it with a pop. “do you forgive me, pet?” his hands came up to knead your breasts. you tried to clear your head as you spoke but it was hard when simon was sending waves of pleasure through you, making you arch your back into him. “you don’t even know why i’m mad,” you said breathlessly. you cried when ghost pulled away from you, a fist on either side of your head holding himself up. he looked you up and down before he spoke. “do you forgive me?” he asked again, ignoring your previous comment. god, why did he have to be so difficult sometimes?

you sighed, most of your anger washed away the second he started kissing you anyways. “yes. i forgive you.” he smiled, “that’s my sweet girl,” he cooed before entering you without warning. you gasped, your hands immediately reaching up to hold on to him, nails digging into his back. “that’s right, pet. show me how angry you are.” he began to ram into you, your nails scratching and clawing at him, drawing blood, your head lulling in pleasure. ghost kissed your collarbone, then up your neck, then your lips. He groaned at the pleasure mixed with the pain from your claw-like fingers on his back. “Jesus. fuck—simon,” you mewled. his hips rocked against yours at a steady pace. “tell me why you were mad at me.” you noted how he used the past tense and mentally rolled your eyes. “what?! now?” he didn’t slow his movements, giving you a serious look. he always wanted you to soften and forgive him before he even found out what it was you were pissed off about. He had a backwards way of looking at things. you told him through moans and gasps why you were mad. it sounded silly now that he was balls deep inside you. he didn’t stop rutting against you the entire time you talked. he laughed as you struggled to get the words out in coherent sentences, losing your place multiple times as he ground his hips rather harshly. “m’sorry,” he said again, but for an actual reason this time. he placed a soft kiss on your lips. “forgive me?” he asked, his eyes looking between your own, his hands pulling your hips up so he could hit you deeper. you basically screamed “yes! yes, i forgive you.” simon groaned loudly, your walls fluttering around him, both of you orgasming in sync. he spilled inside you, his seed overflowing as he continued to pump lazily into you, every move making him growl before collapsing on top of your body. he rolled over so you lay on top of him now, his hand stroking your hair as he held you, a large, self-satisfied smile on his face as he looked down at you.

König

♡ he hates when you’re mad at him. he can read it so easily on your features. it hurts to know he somehow hurt you. “what did i do?” he’d ask the moment he saw your brows furrowed and nose scrunched.

♡ he makes up for it by apologizing and promising to do better. promising to fix whatever it is you’re upset with him about.

♡ and he likes to drown you in sweet gestures. he’ll give you your favorite flowers, make you dinner, swoop in to lift something heavy that you were trying to life on your own, offer to carry you if you look even the slightest bit tired. and that’s not to say he doesn’t do that kind of stuff already, but he goes overboard when he knows you’re mad. he does it to the point that you finally break, usually laughing.

♡ “i got that,” könig mumbles as he takes the heavy box out of your hands and sets it on the table. you scowl at him but say nothing. he watched you as you tried to grab another box from up high. he beats you to it, “got it,” he says. you turn to stare at him. “i can do this myself,” you mumble like a child. “i know,” he says softly. you roll your eyes. later that day, he’s already stolen the dirty dishes from your hands and washed them, tied your shoe you when you started to reach down, grabbed a mug from a high cabinet and handed it to you. you were slowly breaking. when you began pulling off your hoodie, hot from all the running around, you felt two large hands slide over yours, stealing the hem from you and pulling it off. you couldn’t contain your giggle. “jesus, könig.” he smiled at you once the material was shed and began folding it in his arms. he nudged you and you rolled your eyes playfully, letting him wrap his arm around you and kiss the top of your head.

Price

♡ doesn’t like when you’re mad but also never thinks he’s wrong. however, my guy is smart enough to never admit that. he’s happy to admit to any fault, it’s almost infuriating how much of the blame he’s willing to accept. you even tried tricking him once: pretending to be mad at something you knew he didn’t do. he apologize immediately, pulling you into him and kissing the top of your head. you didn’t have the heart to tell him this was all a trap.

♡ he thinks it’s funny when you’re mad. even though he’ll take the brunt of your anger, he can’t help but chuckle. “what’s so funny?!” you asked in the midst of ripping him a new one. “just like the way your face gets all scrunched up when you’re mad,” he said before booping the top of your nose. “can we focus here, please?!” “right, sorry, love. back to it then,” he said waving his hand in the air, encouraging you to continue your scolding.

♡ it makes it hard to stay mad at him for long. you always fold. he just accepts his wrongs to easily when it comes to you. “i’m still mad,” you mumble after letting your anger go as price took your words to heart, saying he was sorry, and promising to not hold back secrets from you.“yeah?” he asked a bit cheekily. he sauntered over to where you stood and wrapped his arms around you so your back was pressed to his front. he leaned down and kissed your cheek before talking softly. “and what could i do that would make you less mad?” his hands slid across your abdomen and down to your waistband. your instinctively fell back into his touch making him chuckle in his chest. “let me take care of you then, love.”

Soap

♡ johnny hates when you’re mad at him, especially if he knows its something he did really wrong. He gets so stressed out when he knows he did something to piss you off. And of course, the guys–knowing how much it bothers him–like to tease him about it.

♡ “uh oh,” gaz snickers. “She looks fucking pissed,” price remarks, crossing his arms, enjoying the panic that is rising on soap’s face. “Good luck, amigo,” alejando pats soap on the back as you approach.

♡ he’s such a soft himbo, i imagine it’s hard to stay mad at him anyways.

♡ soap runs his hand through his hair as he gazes down at you. “Shit, baby. I didn’t think that’d piss you off so much.” you scowl up at him. “I’m sorry, lass.” he dips his head to try and kiss you but you turn your head to the side. Pain fills johnny’s eyes as he sighs. He scratches the back of his neck, hating that you won’t even look at him. He falls to his knees, grabbing your attention. He grabs your hands, “i really am sorry, love,” he pleads. You look at him with slight panic on your face. “Johnny!” you hiss. “People are looking! Get up! Please!” you plead, trying to pull at his hands to get him to stand. “No. I deserve this. I have to pay for my sins,” you can hear the teasing tone in his voice. You roll your eyes, subduing a smile. “You’re such an idiot,” you say laughing, still yanking at his hands. Soap takes that as his moment to stand up and bury his head in your neck before you have the chance to switch back to angry mode. He pulls you into him, kissing your neck and up towards your lips making you giggle with a hand on his chest.

Alejandro

♡ kinda likes it when you’re mad at him??? He likes arguing with you, its fun getting you all riled up. He thinks its hot when you know what you’re talking about and you’re telling him whats what. And he loves the heat that sparks between the two of you were you’re both fuming and yelling at one another.

♡ “You got to be fucking kidding me, Alejandro.” “¿ahora que?” what now? he whined. He spun to face you, raising his brows and crossing his arms as if he had better things to do than put up with this right now. You were fuming with rage as he looked at you so expectantly. If your skin could turn the shade of a cherry tomato, it would have by now. You cussed Alejandro out, your hands raising and moving in the air as you yelled. Alejandro cursed back at you in Spanish, looking down at you with fire in his eyes. Finally, you both took a breath, your faces inches apart from one another having moved into each other’s space the more you argued, both of you having scowls plastered across your faces. You could practically feel the steam pooling out of your ears. “You have never been hotter to me than you are right now, mi amor,” he rasped out, his breath fanning across your lips. “God, you’re so infuriating!” He leaned into you, his hand snaking up and fisting your hair, pulling your head back so you had to look up at him. He gave you a devilish grin, “te encanta, bebe” you love it, baby. You let out a frustrated puff of air before your hands went up and grabbed the lapels of his shirt aggressively, yanking him down with all your strength to crash your lips together. He pushed you back so you slammed up against the wall, biting your bottom lip, drawing blood. You moaned, he grunted. You tore at his shirt and he slid his hand up to rest on your neck, putting just enough pressure to make you wet between your thighs. By the time this was all over, you would both be littered with bruises and scratch marks.

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libraryofgage · 10 months

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I realized Steve is absolutely that kid whose parents put him through piano lessons solely so they could have another way to show off at parties and shit. And then that thought morphed into a little Steddie plot bunny and here we are lol:

Steve doesn't know it's the last time he'll sit at the grand piano, the last time he'll press down its keys and let music fill the empty room before bleeding out into the empty house.

He doesn't know that when his parents next come home, his mother will notice how horribly out of tune the instrument is. He doesn't know that it will be sent off somewhere for repair (his parents won't tell him where, no matter how he asks, and he'll never quite understand why) and lost to him. He doesn't know his parents won't bother buying another one; it was only ever there to impress party guests when Steve sat down and played some Bach. Without those parties, company or otherwise, there's no point in getting another one: both the piano and Steve will have outlived their usefulness.

He doesn't know that he'll be storing away his sheet music, carefully placed into folders and in a waterproof box for safekeeping. He doesn't know that he'll soon become too consumed by high school and dating and monsters to idly write down notes on a staff. He doesn't know that when he's swinging a nail-ridden bat in the future (to destroy monsters, sure, but destruction is destruction, right?) he'll ache with the pain of missing the act of creation as a means of stress relief.

He doesn't know any of that, so Steve sits down at the grand piano with a soft smile, gently trailing his fingers over the keys before lining them up in the Middle C-position. He runs through a few warm-ups, letting muscle memory take him away, so he doesn't have to think. Without another thought, he seamlessly transitions into idly playing, bits and pieces of everything he remembers and songs he's heard blending together.

Mozart's Air morphs into Beethoven's Fur Elise into Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It doesn't all sound good together, but that's not the point when Steve plays by himself. All that matters is letting his brain shut off for a bit, letting the notes and echoes mingle together to create something new and joyful.

After two hours on the piano, his wrists are aching; he always forgets to hold them in the proper position when he plays alone. But it's a good ache, one that reminds him of the music still dancing around in his brain.

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, feeling the last of his tension dissipate. He lets his hands linger on the piano for a little longer before standing and leaving the room, tragically unaware of his imminent and unavoidable loss.

--------

Steve is sprawled across an old couch in Gareth's garage, reading Eddie's well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings. He'd promised to at least give it a go, and he had to admit he was looking forward to finally understanding some of the references Hellfire Club and the kids make. His progress is slow, but he's almost halfway through after two weeks of work. Reading while Corroded Coffin practices helps; the background noise of their music is perfect, letting him ignore all other sounds and focus.

Of course, that's provided they actually play continuously instead of starting the same song over and over only for Eddie to stop them halfway through. When it happens for the sixth time, Eddie growls in frustration, tugging harshly at a lock of hair. "It still sounds wrong!" he cries, dropping into a crouch while cradling his guitar close.

"Stopping us halfway through isn't helping," Gareth points out, idly twirling a drumstick as he watches Eddie's lament.

"Do you know what's wrong yet?" Asher asks.

Steve can longer focus on Lord of the Rings. Instead, he places the book on his chest and looks at the band to watch how this plays out. Eddie scowls and looks up at Asher. "Unfortunately, Ashy Baby, no."

Jeff, meanwhile, has locked eyes with Steve. And because Jeff knows the perfect way to get Eddie off their asses is to get him on Steve's instead, he says, "Why don't you ask Harrington what he thinks?"

Eddie whips around to look at Steve, eyes wide and hopeful. He doesn't even bother standing from his crouch, instead waddling his way over to Steve and testing his ability to hold back laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the sight. "Stevie, baby, sweetheart, lover boy, please tell me that wonderful brain of yours has an idea so your favorite boyfriend can finish this rocking song."

"You're my only boyfriend."

"Which automatically makes me your favorite," Eddie points out, grinning as he leans closer. With Steve still laying down, Eddie's the perfect height in his crouch to kiss him. He lingers for a few seconds before pulling away, and Steve knows his own smile matches the dopiness of Eddie's.

"Have you considered adding a piano?" Steve asks.

"None of us know how to play," Asher says, and Steve would look at him if Eddie's face and hair and shoulders and everything weren't filling his entire line of sight.

Without thinking, Steve hums and says, "I do."

"Do what?" Eddie asks.

"Know how to play piano."

There's a silence that follows his sentence, one that makes Steve's stomach lurch as he wonders if he's maybe fucked up the shaky peace and friendship he's finally managed to build with the other members of Corroded Coffin. He doesn't know how his words might have done it, but he's scrambling to somehow take them back when Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, the bands of his rings pressing against Steve's lips.

"Gareth, you still got that keyboard?" he asks, keeping his eyes locked on Steve. There's a light dancing in them like he's just discovered magic is real, like Steve has amazed him beyond imagination.

With a grunt, Gareth gets up from his drums and steps into his house. The rest of them stay in silence while waiting, Eddie refusing to remove his hand no matter how much Steve licks his palm. When he finally gives up and just glares at Eddie, his boyfriend grins brightly back.

"It's a little dusty, but it'll work fine," Gareth says when he comes back, and Eddie finally moves his hand and body, allowing Steve to see Gareth setting up a keyboard a few feet away from his drums.

"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, taking the book from Steve and carefully setting it aside before pulling him off the couch, "you've heard the song enough. Play what's missing."

Steve hesitates before walking over to the keyboard. Eddie sticks to him like a shadow, sliding his arms around Steve from behind once he's standing in front of the white and black keys. An odd nervousness churns in Steve, tugging at his spine and making his palms clammy, but he knows it would be much worse without Eddie there. If he had to play in front of the band without feeling like anyone was on his side, he'd probably just throw up instead.

"It, uh, it's been a while," he says quietly, easily falling into the muscle memory of tracing the keys and finding Middle C and dancing his fingers through warm-ups despite his words.

Eddie squeezes him tighter as Jeff asks, "Since you've played? Why?"

Memories of his grand piano rise in Steve unbidden, overwhelming him in a rush of longing for the instrument itself and the relaxation of playing. "My parents paid for lessons and had me play at company parties. They, uh, sent it off to be tuned, but it got damaged, and they didn't get another one."

"That sucks, Stevie," Eddie murmurs, soft and reassuring and Steve suddenly feels far more confident.

He looks up at Jeff. "Can you start playing again?" he asks, flashing a grateful smile when Jeff nods and starts strumming the song's opening notes.

Steve listens closely, breathing in the tune he's heard so many times and letting it take hold. He doesn't allow himself to actually think, letting Jeff's guitar and Eddie's arms and hair and scent drown out everything else. Before he knows it, he's playing a hesitant tune that grows with confidence as he follows the song laid out before him. He's always a measure behind, chasing the guitar's echoing notes as they fade.

He and Jeff make it through the whole song without Eddie telling them to stop. When the final notes of guitar and piano echo together, the latter still chasing the former even at the end, Steve is shaking with excitement and anxiety and grief and joy.

He lets out a slow breath, feeling tension he didn't even realize had lingered for so long finally draining from his shoulders and dissipating. Steve can also feel Eddie's face pressed against his neck, a smile searing into his skin as Eddie squeezes him even tighter.

"I love you so fucking much, Stevie, that's exactly what was missing," Eddie says, his words the only warning he gives before pulling Steve away from the keyboard and off his feet and spinning him around. His surprised yelp quickly morphs into laughter that still lingers even after Eddie has set him down again.

Gareth and Jeff and Asher have already started discussing how the other parts of the song might change with the addition of a keyboard, but Steve is too busy turning in Eddie's arms and kissing his smile away to pay them any mind. He can worry about inevitably being roped into the band's practices later, after he and Eddie are breathless and flushed and smiling bright.

#steddie fic #Steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Corroded Coffin #Stranger Things #My writing #I got this plot bunny and fucking ran with it

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violetrainbow412-blog · 10 months

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A (not so) little secret

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

Summary: even though you and Spencer have kept yours private pretty well, one night the universe seems determined to let everyone know.

warnings: established relationship but still secret, a mention of sex, and some references. I think that's all

The sound of the phone ringing pulled you out of your sweet and recent dream and when you opened your eyes you needed a moment to get your bearings. You were on a soft bed, a thin sheet covering your half-naked body, and the room smelled of lavender emanating from a humidifier. When you moved a bit you collided with a warm lump and that was the piece to finish building the scene: you were at Spencer’s house. You opened your eyes and that's when you saw that it was the purple phone on the nightstand that was ringing, next to the alarm clock with bright letters that said 4:00 am.

You had ended up in the man's apartment after a long day at work with the promise of ordering food at home and resting for a while, but at some point the kissing on the couch escalated to ending up in bed; it wasn't something you complained about, of course. He always took care of making you feel so good and had a resistance that came to surprise you, so you enjoyed each other for a long time. You were a little sore (in a good way) and exhausted by the end, but the thought that you would be able to rest up late the next morning had comforted you greatly. You would have fallen asleep barely two hours before then, but since the noise didn't seem to disturb your boyfriend's sleep and you were closer to the device, you decided to reach out to pick up the call.

"Hello?" you sighed sleepily. You couldn't imagine who could want something at that hour, although the fear that it was a call from Bennington Sanitarium about Diana's health made you think it would be irresponsible not to answer.

"Reid?" asked the voice on the other end of the line and you recognized it immediately.

"Hotch?" you murmured, a little more lucid. As soon as the last name was out of your mouth, you realized how stupid you'd been to answer instead of waking Spencer up for him to answer. It was your boss, calling the landline of one of his agents, and it turns out that it was you who had answered.

“Y/L/N?” he spoke again, sounding confused. "Are you with Reid?"

You were silent for a second as panic washed over you, your brain working at full speed to think of what to say.

“Huh… yes. I didn’t feel very well and he said that I could stay here” you confessed. Technically it was the truth, although you preferred to spare yourself the intimate details.

Even though it wasn't a crime to go out with unit mates, if it was a little… how can I put it? Immoral maybe? It could take away from your objectivity in cases and it was definitely a distraction at work, but when it came to Spencer Reid, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't help it.

You had already been together for a few months. You realized you had feelings for him after he offered to stay with you for some days in the hospital to care for the gunshot wound that grazed your shoulder during an unfortunate event. It was so nice to be under his care, he brought you delicious food all the time, every day he bought new flowers for the next vase and always made sure you were comfortable.

Probably the daily stress had clouded your vision a bit, but in an environment so far removed from all your work, it was when you realized how wonderful Spencer could be, and let's be honest, men like that don't grow on trees in droves. It didn't take long for you to buy him a drink, just to thank him for all he'd done for you, but then the dates became recurring. One night the two of you finally talked about what you wanted for your future and then decided to start something formal.

At first it was easy to hide it in the office, after all no one would have reason to suspect anything. Morgan was annoying sometimes, thinking that he was the only one who noticed how you looked at each other, but the others hardly noticed. The problem was when, over the months, the connection between you strengthened romantically and physically, coupled with the sweet nicknames with which you called Spencer in private that on more than one occasion almost slipped from your lips.

By this point you were enjoying being with him so much that you honestly didn't care what the team might think about the relationship, you thought hiding it was more of a habit than a necessity, but you didn't know if Spencer felt the same way. You hadn't really needed to talk to him about it, at least not until now.

“Okay, then tell him that something urgent came up. I need you both to come to the office as soon as possible because in a few hours we are flying to Boston."

"Okay, we'll be there"

"Fine"

The communication was cut off there and when you turned after hanging up the phone you noticed that Spencer had already woken up, probably by the sound of your voice having a chat. He looked so cute and sleepy that you couldn't help but caress his face with your palm to help him wake up.

"What's going on?"

“It was Hotch. They need us in the office”

"I figured," he grumbled, stretching a little to shake the numbness out of his body.

“He realized that I am here. I'm sorry"

"It's okay, love. Don't worry about it,” he said, totally calm, as he stood up and gave you an absent-minded kiss on the cheek. He got up and started rummaging through the closet for something decent to wear over the black boxer shorts he was wearing, while you rubbed your face with your open palms "How do you feel?"

"Tired" you laughed, unconsciously covering your torso with the sheet. You still didn't feel confident that he would see you naked for so long, even though you had already had sex on considerable occasions "So you're not angry?"

"Angry? Why should I be?"

"Because he knew I'm here" you answered softly and he stopped what he was doing to look at you. You knew it took Spencer a few minutes to fully wake up, though he seemed quite conscious as he knelt on the side of the mattress you were on so he could speak. "I mean… do you think we're going to get in trouble?"

"I don't think so" he replied, as one of his hands slid down your bare leg to rest on your knee "Does it bother you that he knows?"

"No, no. I'm just… I'm worried that he'll send us to different departments”

“Just because we're dating? He would never do that” Reid laughed, finding your panic a little cute “He would lose his best agent”

"Are you referring to you or are you referring to me?"

"Applies to both" he replied quickly. You thought he would be more reluctant about the matter, so you practically took a load off your mind seeing him so calm by your suggestion “Actually I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Garcia and Kevin had no problems with their relationship so… why would it be any different with us?

"Because they weren’t in the same unit"

"So you don't want to try it?" he asked, sounding a bit dejected. Apparently it was a subject on which he had previously reflected.

“Of course I do, Spence. If you want to do it, then so do I" you assured him. He looked at you with some admiration and smiled happily, feeling satisfied with the answer “So it's a fact? Shall we just say it, just like that?” you muttered nervously.

Spencer took a few seconds and you could almost see the gears of his brain working behind his front.

“First we can talk to Hotch and explain the situation. Then there will be an opportunity to tell the others."

"Good"

“But we can discuss that another time, okay? for now just… get dressed. Not that I'm jealous, but I wouldn't want to see you walking around in nothing but your panties”

"Perhaps you would like it, what you would not like is for others to see me" you argued, managing to get a giggle out of him before he got up to continue with what he was doing.

It didn't take long for you guys to get ready, and considering it was early morning, Spencer rummaged through his closet for a hoodie he could fit you into, even though you'd refused. You didn't even bother to dress up, you just tied up a messy ponytail and walked out of the place like that.

Normally you arrived at the office at different times, almost always the fifteen minutes between each subway schedule, but you thought that right now that was the least important thing. Although he didn't like to drive, he let you sit in the passenger seat of the light blue car that he only used in very necessary cases.

During the journey you got distracted looking at the city lights and at some point these lulled you so much that you ended up asleep against the seat. Spencer made sure to drive more carefully and avoid potholes, until he parked outside the FBI building. When he stopped and looked at you so peacefully, he wished he could just leave you like this, even though he knew everyone was probably already waiting for you inside.

Despite the urgency that the situation required he took a moment to look at you, feeling his chest swell with love. A part of him was guiltily glad you'd answered that call, because for the past week he'd wanted to talk to you about stopping keeping things secret and that had given him the perfect excuse. He wanted to have more moments like this with you, not just limit himself to giving you his love imprisoned by the four walls of an apartment.

“Hey,” he called to you in a small voice, when he finally snapped out of his trance, leaning down to stroke your arm hoping you'd react “We're here, pretty. Wake up"

You let out a groan, clearly not wanting to leave, and when you opened your eyes you felt your eyelids completely heavy. By way of persuading you, Spencer reached up to kiss your lips, in a prolonged and loving way that helped you remove all traces of sleepiness.

Inside the car you were oblivious to anything, without knowing that a person had been watching everything with their mouths open. Emily Prentiss practically ran to get to the office before you did and once she entered she desperately searched for the rest of her coworkers, finding Morgan, Garcia, and JJ talking to each other.

“Prentiss. where in such a hurry?

"You won't believe what I just saw," she said, without even saying hello, and the three of them stopped talking to pay attention to her, after all the tone warned them of a sure gossip "Reid was kissing a girl in his car"

“Spencer?” Garcia said, sounding incredulous but also excited.

"Yeah! I was getting out of my car when I saw him park with a girl in the passenger seat and then he leaned over to kiss her. Do you think she’s his girlfriend?

“Maybe we interrupted him in the middle of an adventure. Poor boy,” Morgan laughed, feeling sorry for his younger friend.

“I didn't get a good look at her face, but she was wearing a hoodie like… grey? I think so, it was grey."

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the elevator opening and the three of them turned to see who it was. There was Hotch, of course, Rossi next to him, and behind both of you were Spencer and you.

"Thank you all for coming. Let's go to the meeting room” your boss announced, not stopping his walk and waiting for the rest of you to follow. Everyone ignored Rossi's greeting as Emily's eyes widened and she jerked her head in your direction, as if trying to make out some feature. JJ nearly choked on her own saliva when she noticed your gray hoodie, while Penelope and Derek shared a knowing look at the obviousness of it all.

You two didn't even notice what the rest were up to, so before long the whole team was already seated at the round table. It was a custom not to sit next to Reid, partly so you wouldn't be tempted to touch him, but also so you could look at him all the time.

When JJ started giving you the details of the case you were fighting to keep your eyes open, feeling disgusted and worried about the serial killer you had to profile this time, but also completely exhausted. Spencer's hoodie felt so comfortable that you hugged yourself hoping for some comfort, and then you noticed that he was looking at you. You smiled at him from where you were, wishing you could sit on his lap to listen to the rest of the meeting, while he circled his index finger on the left side of his chest, where his heart was. It was a sign he had adopted to let you know you were there. Derek, who was next to him, watched the exchange out of the corner of his eye and smiled to himself. Several times he had noticed his coworker doing that but until now he could understand why.

“We're leaving for Boston in an hour, just pack your bags and come back here. We'll better build the profile on the jet,” Hotch announced, and most nodded as he got up from their seats. Except for you, who leaned your cheek against the table.

"It's honestly not how I planned to spend my Saturday morning," Penelope complained, pouting in disappointment.

"Well, neither do I, but this isn't paperwork that can wait for Monday”

"Are you alright, lover boy?" Morgan asked now, paying attention to Reid's hunched posture. "You look like you're going to pass out at any moment”

"We didn't sleep well"

"We?" Prentiss pointed out accusingly. Spencer frowned at her, not noticing his mistake, but when he finally did, nerves invaded him.

"I meant me. I didn’t sleep well. I had… some things to do”

Yes, things.

"Huh, I see," she scoffed, not believing him one bit. That he had spoken in the plural and you were in the same condition only gave the team the confirmation they needed.

You had spent the night together.

"See you in a bit," Rossi said goodbye and the rest soon left through the same door as him. Only when Spencer made sure no one around did he come up to you.

"How come you can fall asleep anywhere?"

“It's my superpower. You're a genius, I have this” you teased, hearing your boyfriend giggle before taking a seat next to you. Once he was there, he started stroking your back gently, as if he wanted to comfort you.

"I take you home?"

"If there is no other option" you sighed, getting up from your comfortable position only to lean against his chest in a hug. Spencer loved physical contact, so he didn't put up the slightest resistance. "Have you ever thought what it would be like for us if we had normal jobs?"

"What do you mean?"

"Outside the FBI"

"Do you want to quit?" he asked, feeling alarmed, but you shook your head against his chest.

"No, is not that. I love this unit. I only asked myself if it would be easier if we worked on something... I don't know, less demanding, that would allow us to have days off or that it wouldn't take us out of your apartment at 4 in the morning. Something safer”

"If that were the case, we wouldn’t have met"

“Did you always want to be an FBI agent?” you asked, raising your head so you could look at him. Your eyes looked bright in the light from the room, something Spencer couldn't ignore.

"Not always. There was a time when I wanted to be a cowboy”

"A cowboy?" you laughed, but with no intention of mocking. Of all the occupations that was the one you had least imagined for a mini-Reid "Well, you know what they say, save a horse..."

You expected him to complete the sentence, but seeing him scowling because he clearly didn't understand your country reference was enough to make you laugh and ask him to just forget it.

"And you? Did you always want to be an agent?”

"No," you said immediately. You had thought about it many times “When I was little I wanted to be a vet”

“A cowboy and a vet. That doesn't sound so far-fetched, maybe one day I would have even called you to take care of one of my animals."

"And then I would have fallen in love with the gorgeous cowboy Mr. Spencer Reid" you smiled, looking affectionately into the pretty eyes of the aforementioned "Can you imagine?"

"Maybe we really were already destined"

You liked to believe so. You liked to think on a daily basis that as horrible as being a profiler could be, every decision in your life had been worth it just to get to know people like your coworkers. That the world wasn't so horrible if it had allowed you to have a boyfriend as wonderful as the man in front of you.

"You're the best I have, you know that?" you exclaimed without hesitation "The best" you repeated and Spencer pulled you back into a hug just to avoid the embarrassment of you seeing his slightly moist eyes. Your face was leaning comfortably against him and your ear enjoyed the soft beat of his myocardium “I like to hear your heart”

“Did you know that a study showed that two people's heartbeats can be synchronized when they are in love?”

When he told you this, your ear was pressed against his chest and your hand went up to your neck to press it on the pulse line, paying attention to the rhythm of both of you. You smiled widely when you saw that, as always, your boyfriend was correct.

“And if one day we part ways? Will we keep beating at the same time?”

“I don't know, but I don't plan on checking either,” he assured you. Spencer really did see a future with you, and you inevitably did the same.

Before you got up you made sure to kiss him nicely on the lips and you left the boardroom hand in hand, arguing over which of your departments you would go to first. You didn't count on the fact that JJ would still be at the entrance, that when you arrived she looked at your perfectly intertwined hands.

"Hi," you said nervously, both of you letting go as a reflex, "Why haven't you left yet?"

“I need to close the door. I have the keys” she smiled. It was obvious, but you had forgotten it because you were chatting.

"Huh, yeah. We are very sorry. See you in a while"

"Good trip," she said, with the most teasing smile she'd ever given you.

You two rushed out of there and when you got to the elevator you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"For God's sake, is today the day we have to expose ourselves to the whole world?" you exhaled, covering your face with both hands to hide your blush.

"At least no one has seen us kiss yet"

If Emily had been in that elevator, she would have laughed in Spencer's face.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff

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steddieas-shegoes · 3 months

Text

assistant to the dm, steve harrington

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'secretly studying nerd shit' rated t | 1,361 words | cw: mild language | tags: friends to lovers, getting together, d&d references (could be inaccurate since i don't actually play), banter that's also flirting

🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉🐉

"I just don't understand why you needed to borrow my character sheets. You don't even know what most of this means," Dustin said as he handed over the papers.

"I just need to see something," Steve replied, taking the papers and adding it to his mess of a kitchen table. Other character sheets were strewn all over, most filled out, but some empty. A couple of books were open on random pages, recognizable images of weapons and monsters visible to anyone who walked by.

"Why does it look like you're studying for a college degree in D&D?" Dustin asked.

Steve looked up at him, eyes blank, mouth in a straight line. "Because I finally got accepted to Indiana State. Go away."

"Fine! I want those sheets back though!" Dustin said as he left Steve to his studying.

Hours must have passed, the light outside turning to dusk before Steve thought to take a break. His head hurt, his vision was blurry, and he didn't feel any closer to understanding a god damn thing.

He thunked his head against the table, letting out pained groan as his head throbbed.

"Are you looking for something or have you decided to finally play with us?" Eddie's voice said directly behind him, making him nearly fall out of his seat. "Shit, sorry. Thought you heard me come in."

Eddie's hands were on Steve's arms, squeezing, centering.

Like he knew exactly what he needed to lose the slight hint of remaining panic left in his chest.

"I was just trying to figure out if there actual dragons in this game or if that was also made up," Steve said, sitting back and putting distance between them. He couldn't breathe when Eddie was touching him, which was often. He was starting to worry about oxygen deprivation to his brain. "Disappointed to find out the dungeons part seems like it's up to the DM."

"The whole thing is pretty made up, Stevie. That's the point," Eddie smirked, but it fell away when Steve turned back to the messy table. "Are you, like, wanting to play?"

And this is why he wanted to keep it a secret. Maybe he shouldn't have had everything spread out in the open like this, but he'd assumed he was safe in his own home. With the door locked. And with Eddie supposedly playing the Hideout tonight.

He looked back at Eddie. "Why are you here?"

"Dustin said something about you not answering the phone after he left hours ago and you seemed pissed off or something," Eddie shrugged. "Just wanted to check on you."

"The phone? It didn't ring." Steve didn't think so anyway. He had admittedly tuned his surroundings out entirely once Dustin was gone. "But it's Tuesday."

"Uh huh. It is Tuesday. How long have you been sitting at this table?"

"Ha. Funny." Steve rolled his eyes. "You play the Hideout Tuesdays. Tuesdays are for Corroded Coffin, Wednesdays are for dinner with Wayne, and Thursdays are Hellfire."

Eddie blinked at him. "Yes, usually that's true. But, wait. Sorry. You have my schedule memorized?"

"I mean, some of it, yeah. The parts where I know you won't be nearby or easily reached."

Steve knew it was ridiculous, but how the hell could he make sure he was safe if he didn't even know what Eddie was doing?

Eddie looked like he wanted to say something else about it, but must have changed his mind. He pulled out the chair next to Steve, turned it towards him, and sat down.

"So you've been studying this stuff for..." Eddie leaned in, eyebrows raised in silent question.

"I dunno. A few weeks. I didn't have most of the sheets until a couple days ago though," Steve gestured towards the papers spread out. "I still don't really get it."

"You've been studying for weeks? Stevie, why didn't you just ask me or any of the kids to help explain it?" Eddie almost sounded hurt. "I've been playing for half my life! And I've been a DM for half of that!"

Truthfully, Steve was trying to learn so he could have conversations with Eddie about the stuff he liked. That was basically lesson number one on how to get someone to like you, and Steve had already tried the music thing and failed.

He just wasn't that into the echo of loud guitars and angry drums.

He couldn't exactly ask Eddie to teach him everything and then turn around and try to use what he taught him to flirt with him. That was lame and embarrassing.

"Steve?" Eddie had his hand on Steve's leg, leaning in further towards Steve. He must've been trying to get Steve's attention while he was lost in thought. "I'm kidding. I mean, I wish you'd said something sooner, but if this is how you get into it, I'm not gonna stop you."

"I just wanted to surprise you."

Steve could hear how pitiful that sounded, could hear the whine in his voice that he wasn't able to pull his plan off. As if Eddie would even care! Eddie was the most easygoing, laidback, chaotic person he'd ever met. He would just be happy to have someone else in his little club.

"Surprise me? For what?"

He was also incredibly slow when it came to feelings.

"Because I want to spend more time with you! Because I like you! Because I want you to like me!" Steve tried not to sound frustrated, but his headache was turning into a real problem, and he was tired, and sick of hiding things. Robin told him to just be honest, so he was. "I wanted to surprise you the next time Hellfire was here and have all this knowledge, but it's hard! I don't even know how you keep up with most of this, let alone all the characters? There's like...at least 800 options for how to use weapons and spells. I can't even remember half the races or classes or whatever. I don't even know if those are the same thing. And I keep getting distracted thinking about how you look when you stand at the end of the table and do one of those stupid accents."

"Are they stupid if they're this distracting?" Eddie was smirking, suddenly more confident than Steve had maybe ever seen him.

"They are stupid. That's why it's distracting. And I'm stupid for letting it get to me!" Steve leaned forward, put his head on Eddie's shoulder. The angle wasn't the best, but he didn't care. "You get to me so bad, Munson."

"You're kinda easy to get to, Harrington." Eddie's lips briefly pressed against the side of Steve's head. "Been waiting for you to catch up."

"What do you mean?" Steve pulled away. "I've been trying to get you to realize for months!"

"You came to one show at the Hideout. I think Robin's been to more shows and she's a lesbian."

"She told you?!"

"Steve, she spilled every secret she's ever had when she kept me company in the hospital. I think I know things you don't even know."

Steve let his head fall down against Eddie's shoulder again. "I should've known you were teaming up."

"I wouldn't call it that. She just wanted to look out for us," Eddie's hand cupped the back of Steve's head. "So what did you learn?"

"Probably nothing useful."

"Well, it's easier to be an active learner. I could use an assistant on Thursday if you want some hands on experience," Eddie's fingers scratched at Steve's scalp, melting his brain and making him feel like he was completely weightless. "If you just wanna watch, that can be arranged too."

"You don't let people watch," Steve mumbled against his shoulder, his weight sagging against Eddie.

"I think I can bend my own rule for my boyfriend, right?" Steve could feel Eddie's heartbeat quickening beneath his ear.

His face felt warm as he realized what Eddie was implying. "Only if your boyfriend can sit next to you."

"I think that can be arranged."

"Oh, and I'd like to trap Dustin's character."

Eddie snorted, kissed Steve's head again. "That can be arranged, too."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth

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whiskeyskin · 2 months

Text

Love and Longing

Premise: When Elminster delivers Mystra's blessing to reprieve Gale from the Orb's volitile nature, there's a certain something he's been denying himself for over a year and he's finally alone in his tent 👀🍆💦

• Gale x gn!tav • 18+ • E/M Rating

Gale's POV, reader referred as "you", no mention of specific pronouns or genitals, porn without plot, male masturbation, fantasising, oral both recieving, penetration, jealousy, love, longing, horny!gale, fluff, lemons, Astarion x gn!tav referenced, marking if you squint

1.9k words

Gods bless you @wizardblood for this gifset we gladly receive 🥵✨

Part 2 here, if you like that sort of thing?

A/N: Y'all are making me UGLY CRYY WITH JOY AT THESE LOVELY COMMENTS 😭😭😚😚 Thank you for over 500 notes!! You beautiful, thirsty creatures 😏💜

A/N: 700 NOTES?! 🥹🥹 I love each and every SINGLE one of you 😚✨

_____________________________

Gale looked down at the solid protrusion currently causing his bedroll to tent, attempting to keep his breathing even.

It had been what felt like an age since he'd allowed himself to indulge in arousal.

He lay under the blankets, naked as a babe, anticipation crackling in the air around him.

After removing the charm on his underwear to suppress such feelings, it had all come flooding back.

Especially with you around.

His attraction to you was undeniable, however much he thought it impossible; especially after his heartbreak with Mystra. Nevertheless, his feelings for you grew with each step you took, every kind word and all the good you sought to accomplish.

You'd spoken in his defense passionately when Elminster had delivered Mystra's word; the fire in your heart had rivalled that of Karlach.

You'd vowed that there was another way to be found. That you wouldn't allow him to sacrifice himself.

And he loved you for it.

Gods dammit, he did.

He'd fallen hard for you.

He tried to deny it, of course.

It wouldn't lead anywhere.

He had to die.

It was his destiny to end the Absolute, whatever the cost.

No matter stolen glances across the campfire. Ignoring the heated moment of magic between you, where you'd shown him how you felt for him.

Besides, you'd taken Astarion to bed multiple times since the Tiefling party. He couldn't compete with the sultry advances of the Pale Elf.

His paultry offerings of affection wouldn't stand a chance.

But still, a part of him envisioned what life could be like if it was spent by your side.

Hearth crackling, the day's sun swooping low in the sky across the water, two arm chairs and a bottle of wine.. candle light and the smell of strawberries, sweat and arousal. The sound of your voice against his ear, the feeling of your wet, ribbed warmth welcoming him home after a long and stressful day.

Gale licked his bottom lip, his breathing heavy. He reached a hand under the sheets, in the privacy of his tent, to indulge in thoughts of you.

Gods, he wanted to use his mouth on you, he wanted to drown in your heady scent. He would press kisses against your inner thighs, teasing and tormenting, languishing tongue and teeth.

Your unfettered arousal evident before him as he would glide his mouth up your sex, tasting your sweetness and salt. You'd moan his name and wind a fist into his hair, sending sparks through his scalp.

He took the tip of himself in his first fingers, pre-cum had already gathered between the slit and dripped onto his stomach.

Taking a deep breath, he began to gently pulse the head. He hissed as blinding pleasure seared across his vision and sunk low in his belly.

"Ahhh.." he exhaled, with a widening, sinful grin.

Finally, he could touch himself after all these months.

He gritted his teeth against another groan that tried to escape. The sensation of oanism foreign to him but welcome, thoughts of you flooding his mind, as he fell into an old, familiar rhythm.

Oh, you would moan so sweetly underneath him, as he filled you to the brim with his cock. You'd envelop him to the root, sensually clenching your walls around his girth.

Gale replicated the feeling by adding a second hand to squeeze, imagining you enveloping him.

He moved slow and deliberate, like you were taking him for the first time. Every rib of his fingers torture against his sensitive flesh. He pumped his hands in unison, along the thick, veined length of himself, building up the pressure constricting his erection, increasing the speed and fantasizing that he was entangled in your loving embrace.

He'd hold your legs aloft, parted just for him. You'd bray like a wild animal in heat, with the need for his throbbing length to ride you to climax.

One hand clumsily slid to cup his testicles, to massage them and drive him closer to the edge. His hips gyrated at nothing, rutting against the thought of you.

You'd climb to take control and ride him like a stallion through the night. He would hear the salacious slapping of your cheeks against his hips, as he'd watch you bounce yourself in wanton bliss.

He'd hold on to your waist, fingertips digging in hard enough to cause contusions.

He wanted to bruise you, claim you as his own. He wanted to sucker his ownership right over Astarion's bite marks.

He had no right to this ugly and repulsive feeling of jealousy, he knew this.. but he couldn't help himself.

They both vied for your attention and he couldn't stand that Astarion had tasted you when he hadn't.

He wanted to hear your cries as he fucked up into you, slamming your hips down on him harder. Gods, he wanted his name on your lips.

Gale licked the sweat gathering on his top lip; he imagined it was you tasting him.

He fantasied about you using your beautiful mouth on him. You'd cover his body in long, wet, trailing kisses before you'd take him in your mouth. You'd gorge on his cock until he couldn't breathe. Your skillful tongue needy to please him. Your hands wielding a very different kind of weapon, sheathing it entirely down your spectacular throat.

You'd look up at him through lidded gaze, his hard length completely engulfed. The contact would be searing, it would burn him to the spot, it would ignite his soul and turn him to willingly to ash.

There would be love and devotion in your eyes, blissful happiness in your heart.

Gale swallowed and shook his head from side to side.

He wanted to see you.

Wanted you to see him.

See him like this for you.

Helpless and desperate for just a moment of you.

He wanted you to look at him with adoring eyes that turn lustful, when you see him abusing himself, with your name on his lips.

Gale uttered the illusion cantrip and you appeared on your knees beside him. He gasped and smiled brightly at you. He knew it wasn't real but gods he wanted it to be.

You smiled back at him, infatuation shining in your eyes.

"Gale.." softly came the only word he'd been able to summon you to utter. It was warped but it was still your voice. It was still you.

He threw back the covers so you could see him. See all of him. Naked. So you could drink in the sight of him stroking his thick, alert and wanting cock to the thought of you.

"It's for you. Only for you. Going to come for you-just for you." He managed, his voice husky from lust.

"Gale.." You whispered, licking your lower lip and gliding your hands up your strong thighs. You cup yourself through your camp garb and palm yourself in circles, "Gale.." you moan, throwing your head back slightly as you ground against your hand.

His hips twitched unconsciously at seeing your image pleasuring yourself for his enjoyment. That you felt this joy together.

A rumble started to build behind his cock, it tightened around his belly and coiled itself around his legs. It rose through his chest, painfully electrifying his nipples to stiff points, as it wound it's way to the base of his skull. There it gripped him, held him, allowed him to go no further.

He whined in frustration. Gods he wanted to come, it had been so long, so very long.

"Gale..?" Came your voice, he looked at you and his stomach flipped uncomfortably in desire.

You looked spectacular; hair mussed, eyes glassy and wide, lips pink and swollen from lust. Still touching yourself through your clothes, rocking vigorously against the friction.

You placed a hand on your heart and threw your head back in ecstasy. His body began to violently tremble in anticipation.

Oh gods, you looked resplendent on the precipice of orgasm.

"Gale!" You whimpered, sweat glistening on your skin, "Gale.. Gale.. Gale.." you moaned between breaths, your image replicating the noises he'd overheard when you'd snuck into the forest, and committed to memory. The reckless abandon of your heady moans of pleasure. Your face tightened and released, your mouth falling open to gasp.

The desire at the back of his head suddenly pulled taut, every muscle strained, pressure swelling behind his erection. His eyes rolled back in his head, before he came undone.

He jerked and thrashed on his bedroll, trying and failing to keep his ministrations to himself. Thick spurts of cum shot over his stomach, chest and neck, as he came hard for you.

"For you-all for you-only for you." He whimpered, his jaw tense, teeth bared.

He pumped raggedly, squeezing every single drop of his seed from himself. It was almost to the point of pain but the pleasure balanced it perfectly to make the suffering delicious. His muscles seized and toes curled to their fullest extent, as he huffed out a breath and lay feeling weightless on the carpeted interior of his tent.

Gale lay there breathing heavily, sweat damp on his brow. His softening cock still pulsating with after effects, within his loose grasp, as his brain buzzed with static.

His heart felt twice it's size and his entire being was in total elated relaxation, with a doltish smile plastered across his face.

He could quite happily lay like this forever.

It had been so long.

He couldn't remember release being like this.

It was.. dizzying.. violent.. euphoric.. transcendent.. monumentous..

sticky..

cold..

uncomfortable..

"Oh no." Gale groaned, as he looked down on his masterpiece.

Your image had disappeared; there was no way he couldn't have concentrated through that kind of orgasm, even if his life depended on it.. and Mystra's eyelids, the mess he'd made of himself.

His cum lay heavy on his stomach and chest, spattered up to his neck and jaw. Hells, it was even on the floor!

He internally grumbled to himself.

This was the not so fun part of masturbation.

The sharp thud back to reality and the clean up.

He sighed. Well, that was short lived.

Lucky for a Wizard, clearing away the stains of his growing shame, was painless.

Gale waved his hand and the evidence of his debauchery disappeared.

He suddenly felt empty and hollow. The euphoria of release gone all too soon. Slumping back on to his bedroll and bringing the covers up against the chill, he frowned to himself, a cavernous feeling in his chest.

Gale waved his hand, using his last spell slot to conjure your image again.

You appeared laid down with him, tucked closely, your stunning eyes soft and content.

His heart ached; he wanted this.

It didn't matter how much he denied it, he knew what love felt like in the beginning and this was it.

This wasn't because of a covetous, lustful haze from the urgency of ejaculation.

It was comfort.

It was safety.

It was love.

And it terrified him.

More than the thought of ending as a small blip in the farest reaches of the realm. More than dying alone in excruciating agony.

Falling in love with you scared him because it meant that now, he had something to live for.

You smiled sleepily at him and readjusted yourself to get comfortable beside him.

"Night." You whispered, blowing him a slow kiss, closed your eyes and curled in nearer to him.

He stared longingly at your resting form; you looked so peaceful. Wet stinging burned his eyes and he sniffed dryly.

He needed to get to sleep.

He really should..

You'd only last a minute.

He couldn't bare the thought of opening his eyes again without you there, laying beside him..

Tears fell from his eyes and dripped to his pillow, as he shut them tight, "Goodnight, my love."

***

Part 2

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #baldurs gate gale #gale x gn!tav #gale x reader #gale x you #gale smut #astarion x gn!tav #astarion x gale x tav

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cherrychilli · 8 months

Text

18+

AFAB reader, soft dom Steve, outercourse, P in V sex, morning sex, unprotected sex

Fat cock Harrington but it’s just the tip. This is a softer take on the trope but I do have a Perv! Steve version in mind for a future drabble.

A/N: the writer’s block has been pretty severe up in here so please be kind. Too many ideas but the words just aren’t wording, you know? my drafts are mountainous at this point but I am beyond delighted to have finally finished one of them and I hope I’ll be able to get the rest done too.

Divider by roseschoices

The sheets must have slipped off you again, a result of the way you sometimes moved around in your sleep. Or maybe they’d been tugged off this time? You suspected the latter when you roused to the feeling of his palm smoothing over the curve of your bare hip, fingers squeezing lightly when he saw your eyes begin to flutter open.

He’ll be leaving for work in an hour, you realize, when you spare a quick glance at your alarm clock, pushing back slightly to feel his hardened cock against your ass.

“Mm, gotta have you angel. Can I?”, Steve’s voice comes out low, still heavy with sleep and something more as he rests his chin on your shoulder, fresh stubble rubbing against your cheek.

The two of you are still naked from the night before, the bruises you’d both lovingly and desperately made on each other’s bodies still deepening in color and here he was, eager to be inside you again so soon.

“You’re insatiable”, you tease in an equally sleep riddled tone but show your interest by grinding against his cock again. The friction earns you a groan and another squeeze on your hip.

“Please? 'Couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t fuck you one more time before I left”

You’re too sleepy to roll your eyes but you manage a lazy giggle instead, finding Steve's particular brand of begging oddly endearing. “Fine. Wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over it”, you huffed playfully, giving him permission to let his fingers roam lower.

"You're perfect", he thanks you in praise, teeth gently nibbling your earlobe. His fingers skim over your curls and ghost over your clit, detouring from the bud down to your still swollen folds. When he parts them it’s as if the rest of your body has been shaken awake, finally feeling the effects of last night when an ache of a different kind makes itself known between your legs.

The feeling isn't enough to alarm you nor does it make you want to stop, thinking little of the noticeable but weak throbbing until he attempts to work a finger inside. It's then that your core protests with a pain that's mostly dull but still unpleasant enough that your shoulders twitch and your thighs snap together by reflex, inadvertently trapping his hand there.

Steve mistakes it for jolt of pleasure at first until he hears the pain behind your whining and feels the urgency with which your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Too sore”, you yelp, voice small and tone verging on wounded but you're able to slump against his chest with relief when he pulls his fingers away quickly.

“Shit, baby I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

He's quick to try and soothe you and your thighs clench again, this time for a better reason when he cups a hand over your cunt, his warm, gentle touch quelling the ache he didn’t mean to agitate.

“Yeah, I’m okay”, you assure him as the throbbing subsides, humming appreciatively at the way he's holding you.

This has happened before. The result of when things turned a little rough in the bedroom.

The back curving orgasms and euphoric tears streaming down your face as he fucked you into the mattress always came first, the aching reminder of it all following the morning after.

But you never regretted it.

And it's never stopped you from getting off before.

“Still want you to use me”, you offered with a meaningful look over your shoulder and the boy realizes what you're referring to - something you usually let him do whenever you wanted to feel him but couldn’t handle having him inside you yet.

“Yeah? Sure you want it?”, he asks sweetly, full of genuine concern for you but you're able to pick up on a hopeful lilt that slips through too. You didn't blame him, reminded of the need he feels for you when his cock twitches against your ass.

You nod, sure that as long as there was no penetration the pain wouldn’t flare up again.

“Yeah, I do" you answered, showing him how much you wanted it too when you placed your hand over the one he had on your sore cunt, grinding softly against his palm with a pleased whimper. "But be gentle, okay?”

"Promise", he leans forward to place a kiss on your cheek before shifting positions.

You smile up at his halo of mussed up chestnut hair when he hovers over you, gently rolling you on to your back. The early morning chill that seeped into your shared bedroom usually had you pulling the sheets up to your chin and pressing yourself up against your boyfriend for some extra warmth but now, laid bare underneath him, you feel as if you might perspire from the mounting tension.

You remember to lift your hips when he reaches for a pillow, allowing him to slide it underneath you before spreading your legs to accommodate him.

Seeing the glistening arousal between your legs makes Steve's head feel pleasantly fuzzy, spitting into his palm and working it onto his turgid cock with a few quick strokes.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”, he makes sure to add, guiding his cock to slot it between your your puffy folds, resting his flushed tip against your clit.

"Okay", you breathe out, the word very nearly tapering into a needy whine because you're already feeling the urge to nudge your hips forward and make his length rub over your clit just right.

When he does roll his hips you're reminded of just how sensitive he's left your bundle of nerves from the night before, clit pulsing from the gentle, languid motion of his cock sliding over it.

"C'mon, tell me what's going on in that pretty head. My girl feeling alright?", he coos down at you, making sure to scan your face for any signs of discomfort.

Steve's relieved when your expression turns blissful, the softest gasp escaping your parted lips like a secret meant only for him. "Mm, so good...keep going".

The look on your face encourages him to become a little bolder, thumb coming down to keep his shaft pressed firmly against your folds and the weight of it on your delicate core makes you curse with pleasure.

“Woke up hard this morning because of you, you know? y ’had me dreaming about this pussy all night”, he grunts out, canting his hips forward the slightest bit faster, careful not to overdo it in your tender state.

Another bolt of pleasure strikes and settles warm inside your belly, curling your fingers around his shoulders, eyes half lidded but fixed on his own.

"Fuck, Stevie it's so sensitive - feels amazing", you sigh high and pretty for him.

"Making such a mess already. All this for me?", hazel eyes flicking down to tease the fresh, creamy slick that's dripping out of you and clinging to his cock.

Part of you wants to argue back that some of the steadily growing mess is of his own doing, spying the dewy precum that beads at his slit but you're a little too caught up in the feeling coiling inside you to manage a quip right now.

You liked it when he rut against you this way, each thrust stimulating your puffy clit closer and closer to the edge, but rivaling your own pleasure was the satisfaction you felt when you watched him reach his own peak like this.

Knowing you could make him cum without even letting him inside you made every soft moan he spilled sound sweeter and the pink dusting his cheeks seem that much prettier - like you'd earned it the hard way.

Your favorite part was watching him still after you'd reached your own climax, cockhead pressed right up against your needy clit before it erupted with his release. You'd cry out every time the pearly, viscous spend spurt against your pussy in hot ropes, collecting on your skin and the matted curls on your mound.

Things seemed to be heading for the same conclusion this time round too, at least you had intended for it when you asked him to use you. But with the way he's working you up with every filthy word and knowing he wouldn't be able to lie in bed with you afterwards, all satisfied and spent, you were starting to change your mind.

A reminder of the discomfort you felt when he'd tried to finger you still fresh in your mind but feeling so, so terribly empty, you weren't able to ignore the other thought that blared in your head. That if he angled himself just the slightest bit lower, he might be able to slip in and make that lonely, empty feeling go away.

You wanted that stretch again, even if it hurt.

"Wanna try taking it inside again”, you blurt out, tears starting to blur your vision.

Maybe you should have considered a softer approach. One that wasn't so blunt, feeling a twinge apologetic when his hips stutter and his Adam's apple bobs in his throat with a thick gulp.

You knew you shouldn't spring these things on poor Steve. Least of all when he's got you naked underneath him. The boy was weak for you to the point that an admission like that could risk having him cum on the spot.

The conflicted look on his face was expected. What you were asking for was different from the night before, a night although filled with plenty of manhandling and welcome roughness, hadn't consisted of anything that had pained you. Not in any way that had you calling out your safe word at least.

"I don't know...”, he starts but trails off, looking positively torn when you begin to whine and buck your hips, folds dragging along his cock.

"Please, Steve? 'just wanna try...you'll be gentle with me wont you?"

The vein at his temple is noticeable now, jaw clenching too.

"No fair, baby...going all sweet on me like that", he strains, resolve crumbling.

You pout, so close to swaying him.

"Just once more. Promise I'll tell you if it starts to hurt, okay?"

His expression shifted as if considering. He hated saying no to you. Especially when your eyes filled such unbridled want.

"Fuck, alright".

You mumble thank you's against his lips when you pull him in for a quick kiss, legs spreading wider for him as his tip slips down to press against your entrance. There's more to take in this time but you're so much wetter than before - so eager to take as much of him as you can.

Anticipating the sting that comes when he begins to breach your hole, you chant softly for him to keep going, face pinching up in pain briefly when resistance gives way and the head of his cock finally pops inside.

Your sore walls protest at first with a dull gnawing, a bearable pain but still the kind that had you holding your breath until you could settle again.

Steve remains like that in place, not pushing in any further, hand rubbing considerately at your waist. He waits patiently for you to adjust - waiting for you to release that breath you've been holding and tell him how you're feeling.

“Don’t think I can take any more”, your voice comes out in a waver, a shaky breath coming after it.

Clouded by his concern for you, he interprets your comment as a cue for him to pull out. "I'm sorry, lemme just-" and you can feel him begin to withdraw from you carefully.

"No wait"

He stills again, afraid he's hurt you until you bend your knees and press your heels into the mattress to anchor yourself. The throbbing begins to subside and Steve's jaw falls slack when he sees you roll your hips, fucking yourself on the head of his cock.

“My god, baby" he manages to choke out, disbelieving despite having his eyes trained on the way your folds suck him in, the fat head of his cock sinking in and out of you wetly.

Your eyes fall to where you're joined too and you can see the veins bulging along his shaft, missing the way they felt inside you but with how sensitive you are, you feel impossibly full already.

"Steve, please", you sob, the sound of you all eager and aching prompting him to take over.

You're rewarded when pushes in, cock dragging over a tender, neglected spot sitting at an angle you couldn't reach on your own. It's a slow, but intensely passionate pace the two of you fall into, nothing but the wet sounds of your joined bodies and pleasured moans filling the room.

You almost worry that it's not enough for him. While you feel like your almost bursting at the seams in the best possible way, he's only managed to work around two inches of his dick inside you at this point, the rest of him missing that vice grip of your plush, silky walls.

That worry increases tenfold when he pulls out, only to have him push the unfounded concern out of your mind altogether when he wraps a hand around the the throbbing length, tapping the head glistening with your arousal on your clit. "I'm getting close", he admits hoarsely before pushing back in again, this time with more ease and far less pain than the first.

The way your walls give way for him has you keening, the pleasure pain combo at equal levels now.

“Yeah? Too much for you isn’t it, crybaby?”, he thumbs at your cheek and you begin to register the hot tears streaming down your face, earning you the nickname.

You nod fervently but your hips keep bucking, pace hurrying.

“Oh? Want more?”, he asks, half as a taunt, half in awe.

"Faster, please do it faster", you beg.

"Yeah?" he picks up the pace, fucking into your poor sore pussy as far as you can handle. "Gonna cum like this baby? already crying on my cock even though it's just the tip?"

"Oh god- Steve I'm getting close", you warn, back arching, fists gathering damp sheets.

"Fuck, so sore and you're still taking it like a good girl"

“Play with my clit”, you cry and he does, hand dropping to find the sensitive bud. A gentle puff of breath against your clit could have tipped you over the edge at this point, so when he rubs circles into it the force of your orgasm surprises you both, your cunt forming a tight seal around his tip when he bursts too, flooding you full.

There's no way he's clocking in to work on time today.

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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mothdruid · 9 months

Text

Losers Prize

pairing. Brian O'Conner x afab!reader

word count. 1k

warnings. this is a 18+ work, minor's buzz off. smut, fluff, oral sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

author's note. I told all of you it was coming. i just needed to get this out of my system. so like, here's my Brian O'Conner smut fic. and i guess for reference, this is like during the second movie when Brian is in Miami. k bye.

This wasn't how the night was supposed to go. Not one bit.

You were supposed to race, win, then go home with your cash.

What wasn't supposed to happen was the fourth not showing up. What wasn't supposed to happen was Tej calling Brian O'Conner. What wasn't supposed to happen was Brian winning the damn race. And what definitely wasn't supposed to happen was you going home with Brian.

But here you were, head thrown back as Brian was eating you out. Blonde locks threaded in between your fingers, tugged on periodically. Moans were pouring from your lips, Brian not letting up no matter how hard you pulled.

"Fuck, Bri," you whimpered.

He was staring up at you, bright blue eyes locking with yours. A flick from his tongue had you breaking eye contact, rolling your head back. The barely comfortable sheets were tight in your free hand. Brian's arms were under your legs, hands on your hips to hold you in place. The thick Floridian air was making sweat permeate on the both of you.

"Tell me what you want," Brian said before lapping at your cunt again.

"What I want is for you to fuck me," you replied with a bit of bite.

Brian rolled his eyes while he sucked on your clit, hard. Your hand tightened almost painfully in his hair. You propped yourself up with one elbow to watch Brian. The tightness in your abdomen was becoming unbearable. This slinky racer had you on the edge of pleasure, giving you just enough to keep you there and not push you over.

"Come on, Brian," you whined.

Brian smirked against your cunt and decided to give you what you wanted. His tongue worked over your clit feverishly. The feeling made you drop your head back, knowing this was it.

The tightness in your abdomen snapped, pleasure washing over you. Brian's hands held your hips in place, stopping them from pressing against him too hard. Moans were falling from you, head rolling back and forth on the bed. Brian tongue didn't seem to stop, making your legs start to quiver.

"Brian, please!" You yelped, the sensations becoming too much.

The plea did its job. Brian removed himself from your lower half. He climbed up your body, diligent placed kisses on your skin the whole way up. You smashed your lips to his, tasting yourself on his lips. A moan left you while your tongue roamed his. His hair was tight between your fingers.

"That enough for you?" Brian smiled against your lips.

A hand came up to cup your jaw. You opened your eyes after he broke the kiss. Your hands had moved to his shorts, unbuckling them as quick as you could. Brian let out a soft chuckle, resting his forehead against yours.

"And here I thought you didn't want to see me tonight," Brian kissed you again.

"I didn't," you started pushing his shorts and boxers down, "plan on losing either."

Brian groaned when you took him in your hand. Each stroke had him placing a kiss to your skin. Your neck, cheek, shoulder, chest, it didn't matter what body part. Brian just needed you, craved you.

Neither of you could wait anymore. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him closer to you. Brian groaned when his cock rubbed your cunt. The spit and cum from him eating you out made the perfect lubricant for him. The head of his cock would periodically catch against your entrance as he rutted his hips.

"Brian, if you don-" The head of his cock slipped into you, stopping your words mid sentence.

"If I don't what?" Brian asked with a smirk.

All you could respond with was a moan as he pushed deeper into you. Finally his hips were completely flush with your own, cock completely shoved inside of your cunt. You clenched around him, eliciting a groan from him. Eventually his hips started moving, thrusting in and out of you.

The rhythm was sensual yet quick. He was hitting the perfect spot inside of you, the one that had your whole body clenching. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him close while he rammed into you. His hands were kneading your ass and sides. You couldn't keep your mind straight, thinking about all the different sensations.

Brian was nuzzled into your neck, placing soft wet kisses where ever he could. The occasional nip had you moaning loudly. He pulled back for a moment, looking down at you. One hand came up to your face, cupping your cheek as he went in for a bruising kiss. During the kiss his thrusts became more powerful, pushing you over the edge.

He kept thrusting in and out of you, keeping your orgasm going for as long as he could. Once it subsided, he thrusted only a few more times only to pull out and come on your stomach. The groans that he produced while coming were gorgeous. He held you carefully, trying to keep the cum from getting on himself.

Eventually, he got up and searched down a hand towel to clean you up with. He wet it before giving it to you, letting you clean yourself up. He knew that's what you preferred to do anyways, no matter how many times he tried to be gentlemanly about it. Brian found an old pair of basketball shorts on the floor, putting them on before searching a clean t-shirt for you. You happily accepted the t-shirt, slipping it on then finding your underwear to put on.

"I take it you're staying then?" Brian asked as he got on the bed next to you.

"You did take my money tonight, the least you can do is let me stay," you placed a kiss to his cheek.

Brian smiled at you.

"Hey, a race is a race," Brian playfully argued.

"I never disagreed with that," you said while cuddling into him.

"Isn't this enough of a prize?" Brian joked while gesturing to himself.

"Are you calling yourself the loser's prize?" You questioned, quirking an eyebrow up.

"Only if you're the loser."

#brian o'conner #brian o'conner smut #brian o'conner x reader #brian o'conner imagine #brian o'conner fanfiction #fast and furious fanfiction #i'm so sorry but yet not sorry at all #okay bye forever

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emelinstriker · 1 month

Text

Here's finally the reference sheet for Special Stranger Nezha! :D

More specifically his LEGO version- Also two skin/hair color versions as regular LEGO + the tone I usually use to draw him-

#special stranger nezha #doodle #lmk nezha #lmk nezha fanart #nezha fanart #lego monkie kid #monkie kid fanart #lmk au #lego monkie kid au #lmk ne zha #reference sheet

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neuvistar · 9 months

Note

no bc imagine gamer blade with virgin/inexperienced reader 🥹🥹 (im in my gamer blade brainrot rn omg)

INEXPERIENCED.

— featuring ┊gamer ! blade x fem!reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual btw! not proofread cuz i’m a lazy bum, virgin!reader obvi.. blade referred 2 as “yingxing” bladie being all gentle with u but then it goes wrong (he loses 2 his demons), mating press, overall suggestive content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

— a/n ┊oooo ngl i lowkey feel like he would also be a virgin, like it’s his first time too but he knows more than u do, ykwim? (this has been rotting in my drafts for awhile here u go!!)

honestly.. it’s not like you were experienced in this sort of thing.. and it’s not like you were thinking about doing this kind of thing when you’re ready, you had knowledge about it but you weren’t told that it was gonna probably gonna hurt for the first time?!

here you were, hands gripping at the sheets from beneath your sweating frame.. trying your absolute best not to squeeze and clench around blade’s cock that was carefully buried deep inside your drenched cunt, it’s not like you weren’t enjoying it.. you loved it. you absolutely love the fact that it fits just right, filling you up only a few inches deep! he was not even barely in and you were already moaning out his name, nuzzling your nose against the flesh of his neck to hide the blush that crossed your face. it was embarrassing really, atleast that’s what you thought. you were inexperienced and blade knew that, he said he was as well but you didn’t quite understand just why and how he’s so good with using his dick, you didn’t know if he did this sort of thing before and he was lying or he watched played or watched some.. pornographic film, you didn’t even know! you were so deep in thought that you almost didn’t even feel the pain of him fully sliding himself into you so easily, forcing a choked moan from your throat.

out of reflex almost, your pussy pulsed around his cock.. the walls of your insides pulling him in even closer as blade threw his head back at the sudden movement, fighting the urge to thrust into you completely and break you tonight, but that’s not happening.. no.. not tonight at least. blade wanted to take it slow with you, be sweet.. but the way you were clenching around him made it more difficult to control those urges. “e—easy sweetheart, eaasy.. yeah that’s it..” his voice sent a line of electricity through your body, making you jolt. aeons, he really knew how to use his cock.. he knew how to use it pretty well and he knew how to show you just how good he can use it.

“yingxing.. y—yingxing ‘s too much already.. dunno if i can take it..” you whined to him, clutching tight on the cotton black shirt he always wore until your knuckles turned white, squeezing your eyes shut when you finally feel his cock sliding in and out of you, his thrusts were slow and sweet.. passionate and full of love. but yet, it was your first time and you had such a tough time trying to accommodate his length.. it’s like you could feel tears forming from the ends of your eyes already from how good it felt, yet it hurt like a bitch. you didn’t know if your tears were from the pleasure or pain, but it’s safe to say it was from both.

“you can take it, big girl. i know you can. c’mon, keep going.. you got this.” he praised, well that was a surprise. blade had his hands on your knees to help your legs spread out more, letting the cold air brush against your soaked pussy as you whined again, he bit down on your shoulder to try and restrain himself from ruining you for the night. sweat trailed down all over your body from how hot it was, blade could almost feel like his body was melting and burning from the heat of the moment, running his fingers through his hair as he looked down at you with a dangerous stare. that sight.. that sight of you beneath him.. how sweat dripped down all over your body, how your breasts were slightly bouncing from the impact of his gentle thrusts, how sweet you sounded every time you whispered “yingxing..” under your breath, how you had your hand on your mouth to prevent you from making any more noises.. oh how he stretched your poor pussy out from his cock alone, how lewd the sounds of squelching were.. it drove him crazy.

well, you weren’t wrong when you thought about how good he was with his cock! and there, blade lost control as his slow passionate thrusts became more quickened and desperate ones, his grunts growing louder the more he slammed himself into you, tightening his grip around your knees. “yingxing..?—“ “sorry.. i need this.. i need this now, angel. i’m sorry— ah..” was all he mumbled before his dick practically hit every spot inside your walls, you could’ve sworn you could feel your eyes gouging out of your eye sockets as his pace quickened further, grabbing ahold of your knees and forcefully pinning them against your chest, keeping them in place as he proceeded to dick you down, the sound of creaking from the bed increasing as well as your moans and the noise of skin slapping against each other, fuck.. he was getting more and more desperate the more he fucked his dick into you, egging you on to take more of his length and girth.

“fuck fuck fuck.. yingxing please!” your voice was muffled against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as blade bullied his cock deeper and deeper into your cunt, his tongue flicking against the skin of your neck as his fingers gently squeezed your breast. “mm.. does that feel good?" blade asked softly, his tone now filled with lust. “yeah.. more? you want more? i’ll fucking give you more..”

blade was completely out of it now.. squeezing you in a mating press as he pushed your knees further down your chest, the new position allowed his dick to access your deepest areas.. the pain soon disappearing as it was replaced with pure pleasure and euphoria, the euphoric feeling deep within your veins.. that euphoric feeling of how good he was fucking ypu to oblivion. “don’t squeeze around me like that.. you’re gonna make me cum, [name].. i can’t—“ blade bit his lip as he grabbed your knees, pinning them even further as he pounded inside your aching pussy, the position could make him come alone from how flexible you were.. damn. “yingxing!” the way you said his name, the way his named rolled so gently off your tongue, your teary eyed expression.. he wanted to see even more of it.

honestly.. you were inexperienced but you don’t think that.. you were inexperienced enough to take his cock. you knew damn well that night.. you took him like it was nothing.

perhaps.. maybe you can do it again more often?

#ᖭི༏ᖫྀ maryse’s diary ૮꒰˶˃̵ ^ ˂̵˵꒱ა #blade <33 #honkai star rail smut #blade pussy destroyer #hsr smut #blade smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail blade #blade x reader #blade x you #hsr blade #hsr x you #hsr x reader

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hana-no-seiiki · 2 months

Text

Good news. Did some decent progress on What’s Up Danger so you guys will finally get fed this Wednesday! Bad news, the quality might not be the best since I’m fasting while writing it oTL

Anyways, here are some Batfam w/ Cat Villain! Reader moments/snippets.

TW YANDERE AND MENTION OF NONCON/SOMNO

Both Jason and Reader’s first words to each other were, “What the fuck.”

Reader referring to Jason being a giant, and violent asf esp in comparison to Dick. While Jason was confused at his heart beating so fast and mildly crushing on you while you were fighting.

Bonus points: You guys did the spiderman point meme.

You have the biggest age gap with Dick. I headcannon the boys to be close in age so there wouldn’t be any not so good implications when it comes to relationships, but it’s almost unavoidable unless Batman switches sidekicks every year or so. (You are younger than Jason but older than Tim)

But that is also another reason why you two didn’t click as well as you did with Jason

You’d often make jokes or use slang and Dick would just be “???” He tried his best though.

On the reverse side of things, and like I mention before Tim and you got along too well as friends. He’s one of the few people you could gush to about literally any fandom and he somehow (through stalking your searches and literally every gadget/appliance you owned) knew everything about it already.

You two have written several theses on fellow vigilantes and villains (mostly ‘dumb’ ones like who has the best cake based on so and so criteria)

Damian is the best when it comes to bantering with you mid-fight. It’s the combined years of sass and assassin training. Went from plain insults to whole ass (not so) subtly being horny when you beat each other down.

He’s also the worst (best?) when it comes to your nicknames. He insists that you two use it on each other. Some exclusive while others he’s usually fine hearing from other mouths.

There was one point in time where you were called Kitten while the boys forced/bribed you to call them Daddy

Tim and Jason have tattoos of you/related to you.

For Jason it’s your name with a few paw prints, and for Tim it’s when he first fought you (and got his ass whooped)

After Jason came back and revealed himself to you, he tattooed the scratch marks you left him on his back after doing the deed.

Damian secretly practices doing henna so he can draw on you during your “wedding” since he doesn’t want anyone touching you. Sort of defeats the purpose, but go off king.

Being the thorough guy he is, he uses lab equipment to make his own blends.

Bruce? Bruce hates your ass. Sometimes it’s in a hatefuckey way but most of the time he blames you for corrupting his kids.

So he corrupted you in turn.

I feel like he gets off to cucking them honestly (blame that one comic) but if Reader is AFAB I wouldn’t be surprised if he impregnated them.

He’s a softie at heart when it comes to you though, courtesy of your similarities with Selina.

Speaking of, Talia adores you.

Like if there was anyone she would want with her son it was you.

She thinks the fact that you haven’t been put behind bars is a testament to your skill, and after getting over your similarity to her “rival in love” she would actively get you to be with her son.

Eventually she realizes she loves you more than Bruce and well, that’s a story for another fic.

You have at least a dozen trackers on you at all times.

Most of them you’ve ingested and pooped out.

It’s mostly Tim of course. But the duty of actually feeding you that stuff usually goes to Dick.

Dick has uh- somnophillia’ed you a fair bit after the break up.

He really, and I mean really likes to watch you sleep.

It reminds him of those ‘catnaps’ you’d take while watching over the Titans.

There would be times where he’d just be in a daze/in autopilot for hours reminiscing about your past together

His favorite memories to go back to were your first fight together, first kiss, and times under the sheets, and a date you guys had before in a festival/circus.

He never takes the antidote for Poison Ivy’s sex pollen and always comes to you for it, regardless of his or your relationship status.

Tim has at least a million typewritten chats with AI you, and around a few hundred hours of voice chats.

You did eventually take his virginity.

He came as soon as he was inside you/you were inside him.

You have been offered to be a part of the bat crew or a vigilante. But,

you massacred many after Jason’s supposed death and feel too guilty to call yourself anything other than a villain.

Chokers with bells. It’s a popular gift to give you. Especially ones that are custom made with expensive ass materials and engraving.

Sometimes Tim just gives you weapons.

Alfred is your best source of blackmail material.

You’ve actively tried cursing him (with immortality). You love the man.

He’s secretly the president of your official fanclub/fansite but you didn’t hear that from me.

You fight a lot with Damian’s pets. Like in a way that you turn into a literal cat and hiss at them.

And last but not least, you’re vv close with every member of the Teen Titans (besties with Rachel and Garfield)

NOT PROOFREAD!!!

@sophiethewitch1

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finniestoncrane · 3 months

Text

Date, Digger Style

KTJL!Boomer x Fem!Reader, word count: 6k hi i am sorry, this was supposed to be like. a lil silly thing about what a first date with george might be like. and it ended up being 6k words. i just want him so bad it makes me look stupid quite honestly and i am ok with that 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: sleazy behaviour, groping, tongue kissing, just the tip and then not just the tip but agreeably so, lots of physical affection, reader has tits and a vagina, reader is referred to with feminine pet names, descriptions of a gross kitchen, also let's pretend that he's always a lil bit drunk so his drunk driving seems like the normal state of things. he's a villain. he's allowed to break laws lmao (and it's fiction, so i'm allowed to decide what alcohol does to him)

Sitting on the edge of your sofa, you took a quick look at your phone to check the time and to see if you had missed any messages. Nothing. Not even a quick courtesy text with "on my way" typed hastily, or auto filled. You'd been sitting there for twenty minutes already, with no sign of George. If this was what he considered a good start to your first formal 'date' then you two were perhaps too different after all to make this work. He was laid back, to a flaw. Horizontal. And you were more organised, at least more so than George Harkness.

Just as you began typing out a message, you heard the tell-tale screech of the tyres on his van, followed by the rumbling of the engine as he put the brakes on and came out of the creaking door. The sharp buzz at your door was enough for you to know your suspicions were right, and without answering it, you headed downstairs. At the door, you could see Digger, picking at his teeth and tucking the stray strands of hair back under the rim of his hat before he noticed you and struck a pose, goofy smile plastered onto his face.

He moved to grab you when you met him on the steps leading up to your building, but you dodged him, spitting his nickname at him.

"Digger."

"Aw, are you mad cos I'm late? You're not some bloody princess, I think you can wait five minutes!"

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty, the- Twenty!?"

His eyes were wide as he looked to you, and you offered a solemn and unimpressed nod in response.

"Fuck... alright, that is a bit much. This'll be worth it though, I promise."

Raising an eyebrow, you silently questioned that. You'd known him for a while now, skirted around the conversation, flirted constantly, but turned him down at every offer of a date. And now, when you had finally agreed and given in to his constant pestering, he was going to show up late and not even dressed differently or in clean clothes? You weren't sure it would be worth it. But, if all else failed, you could always count on him to make you laugh, or at very least conjure up a smile. And despite wanting to still maintain an exterior of disappointment, you could feel the corners of your mouth lifting as he opened up the passenger door and gestured to it with his arm, bowing low.

"M'lady, your carriage awaits."

As you stepped up and into the front of the van, the smell was the first thing that hit you. Stale beer, sweat, and about five other scents just indistinct enough to elude your keen nose. Trying not to think about it, you turned to grab your seatbelt and noticed, out of the corner of your eye, that the back of the truck was filled with empty beer cans and bottles, piles of clothing, some dirty and some clean. And in the middle of it all, a mattress, some pillows, and a scattering of sheets.

"Do you live in here?"

"Don't worry about it, babe."

Before you could ask him any follow up questions, he pulled away from the kerb with a stuttering acceleration, and carelessly pulled into traffic. After a few minutes of teeth grinding, life-threatening driving at high speed, he pulled off the main roads and began taking back streets.

Granted, you didn't know where you were going yet, since Digger was insistent on keeping it as a surprise, you still assumed that after ten minutes of nothing but roads dotted with potholes and routes plagued by speedbumps that it was surely quicker to have stayed on the main route until you were closer. However, it became clear that there were intentions behind this path after all, when you turned to question George about the route and found him quickly glancing from the road to your chest, smiling wider every time a bump jostled your body, causing your breasts to jiggle. With a heavy sigh, you turned to look out of the window, concealing the smile that threatened to give away your façade. There was no way you could let him know how oddly flattering you found his constant gawking, that would be a nightmare.

When the van stopped at a red light, you spoke, still looking out of the window, to try and get Digger to tell you where you were going.

"I just would feel better knowing how long we've got left to drive is all."

He reached over to you, placing his hand on your thigh and pressing his fingers and thumb together, squeezing the ample flesh.

"Listen, don't worry about it, we're almost there."

His palm pressed down and skimmed further up your leg, and as you turned to catch his eye, hoping to at least shame him into not continuing his bold heavy petting, you were instead met with his lopsided, careless grin. With one hand on the steering wheel and one permanently on your thigh, he continued driving for another ten minutes, until you were well on the outskirts of the city. When the van finally stopped, you could still hear the tinny rumbling and sharp clinking of the empty bottles and cans bashing around in the back, feeling like it had shrilly inserted itself permanently into your head. But once you had stepped out of the van and the fresh air, plus the odd stench, hit you, you could hear yourself think clear enough to know that you were definitely beginning to regret this decision once more.

"Told ya we wouldn't be much longer! We're here!"

"Where is here?"

"About twenty minutes outside Gotham."

"Digger."

He slapped his hand on your back and pulled you into a side hug, dragging you along as he walked towards the door of the flat roof building with broken neon lights that stood in front of you.

"Ah, come on babe! Get a sense of humour, or you'll always look fuckin' miserable!"

You weren't sure if he could hear your sighing over the sound of the gravel as you made your way to the front door, and he definitely couldn't hear the louder second one you let out when you got inside. The one that was cut short when you realised you could taste the smell that lingered on the air.

Taking your hand, an oddly gentle move from Digger. The moment was gone quickly when he smacked your ass as he ushered you into the dingiest looking booth at the back of the bar.

"George, really? Here?"

"Yeah, babe! This place is great. Cheap beer, good food. I promise, you just gotta trust me, alright?"

Taking a quick look around the place told you otherwise. But there was just something about him you found hard to say no to. Which you imagined would land you in much bigger problems later on, but for now, potential food poisoning and a hangover of the worst order seemed like a fair risk for what would no doubt be a fun night regardless. It always was with George.

"Aw, I know that face! You're on board! Right, I'm gonna go to the bar and get us some drinks and food."

"I don't know what I want though, I haven't looked at the menu."

"Don't have to, I'm getting us the usual. You'll like it, tr-"

"Trust you, yes, I know."

With a wink, he slid out of the booth and you watched him make his way to the bar, leaning on it with his oh-so-cocky attitude as he ordered for you. And when he sat back down, he slid a pint in front of you and began chugging at his own. Looking over the tip of your glass as you sipped, you tried to get a glimpse at the kitchen. From what you could see, it looked like the kind of place that might give any decent health inspector an aneurysm. The chef's clothes were dirty, the walls were a stained yellow colour that seemed as though it was dripping down the walls, and every surface had a strange assortment of crumbs and stains on it. But still, you persevered.

And still, when the plates were slammed down on the table in front of you by the uninterested waitress, you were optimistic. Because you were determined to have a nice time. It was likely that which annoyed you the most of all, because the moment you bit into the greasy sandwich you didn't care in the slightest what kind of health hazard it was prepared in. You just wanted more.

"See, told you it was good."

Nodding in agreement, mouth too full to speak, you swallowed down the rest of the sandwich, although by the time you had finished it and your accompanying beer, Digger was already onto his third pint, and the sandwich was but a memory. Until he burped and you could smell it on his breath, something he found hilarious.

"Lighten up! You try, give it your best shot."

"I'm not having a burping contest with you, George. We're on a date."

"Yeah, but you're on a date with Digger. Way more fun, far less stuffy. Go on."

You mustered up the best you had to offer, cheese and beer and lettuce the most noted flavours in the air you expelled. Closing his eyes for a moment, Digger reached out across the table and took your hands.

"That was, without a doubt... the most pathetic fuckin' burp ever. We gotta get you another drink!"

Before you could say anything, he was already shuffling out of the booth and shakily making his way back to the bar. A bad decision being made and you couldn't really stop him. He could handle his alcohol, definitely, you'd seen him do it a number of times before. Digger could put away what might kill a lesser, for want of a better word, man. But it didn't make him any easier to be around. You'd already found yourself flushing hot, cheeks darkening, a heat building in your stomach with each lingering touch or flirtatious stare. So far this evening, you'd almost kissed him twice. It wasn't going to be any easier to prolong what you felt was the inevitable if he got far too drunk and became his usual, handsy self.

Of course, that's exactly what did happen. One more pint in and Digger was all over you in the booth. He'd leaned in at first to say something to you, speaking over the noise of the bar, close to your ear, his arm reaching up and around you and pulling you close and then keeping you there. As his fingers stroked at your shoulder, the other hand fell to your thigh, periodically squeezing it between his fingers and thumb. And every time you got distracted by how far up your thigh he was snaking his palm, fingers splayed out, pinkie grazing over your crotch, his other hand would pull your attention away as his fingertips skimmed over the top of your breasts.

It was difficult to try and hold him off. You were both tipsy, or at least you were tipsy, Digger seemed to be wasted. No good decision could come from that. But the way he touched you, the way he smelled as he leaned in, sweat, cheap body spray, acrid beer, it was intoxicating. If you'd been any less sober you might have leaned in then and there in the booth to kiss him, tasting the alcohol on his tongue, letting him put his hands all over you, anywhere, anywhere. But luckily, before you could make what you knew was a mistake, he sat back and laughed, one loud and sharp 'ha'.

"I fuckin' love this song, babe! C'mon!"

Before you could argue otherwise, you were being dragged out of the booth to join Digger on the tiny dance floor in front of the band. The song was difficult to dance to, at least you had assumed, given the heavy rock riffs that underlined the inaudible, high volume lyrics. But George wasn't deterred. It was almost endearing, how horrendously embarrassing he was, standing there with his air guitar, throwing goat horns at the band as he bounced on the spot. Cute, nearly. But mercifully cut short as the song ended.

"Aw, just as I was finding my groove."

You smiled at him, rubbing his shoulder in sympathy, biting your inner cheek as you felt how strong he was, impressed by his muscular arm as you let your hand slip down to graze over it.

"A real shame, George. Let's go back to- "

The band started up again, this time, a slower song, one that lent itself well to the kind of 'end of prom' vibes all young lovers were hoping for. And before you could finish your suggestion of heading back to the booth, Digger had pulled you close, his arms around your back, falling to your waist as he swayed back and forth. It could have been dancing, it could have been the uncoordinated shuffling of a man who had one too many beers, but either way, you leaned into it, allowing your head to rest against his chest while you placed your hands, linked together, at the nape of his neck.

It was almost too romantic, in its own, strange way. The dim lights, the other couples around you, the unique twang on the guitars, the stench of the greasy food, and the way George kept his hips, his crotch, pressed tight to you as you leaned against him. Not particularly from a storybook romance, but perfect all the same. You'd known this would happen. One date, and you were already falling for him. Not because of anything he'd done, but because deep down you knew you had been into him, since almost the moment you'd met. But you'd fought it, because men like George Harkness, you assumed, weren't the kind of nice boy you dated.

But here he was, holding you, swaying you, sighing softly as the music swelled. Granted the movements weren't exactly graceful, but they were surprisingly fluid, as though he might be good at dancing when he was sober. Yet another surprise for you to learn about, but obviously not right now. He was trying though, his hands at a respectable height, his head leaning on your shoulder. Every so often, he nuzzled into your cheek, placing a soft kiss to it when the notion took him. And when the song finished, you could hear his words clear, spoken gently into your ear.

"You wanna head out?"

You weren't sure if that was "out" as in "get some fresh air" or "out" as in "let's head home, yours or mine" but either option seemed good. The last remaining bit of sun and a soothing breeze might be enough to sober George up before you brought him back in for more dancing. And if it didn't, you were happy to take him to your place for a coffee, nothing more. Although, you were potentially considering letting him sleep on the sofa. You couldn't imagine how difficult it would be to nurse a hangover in the back of his van.

Outside, finally able to breathe without choking on the stench or the thickness of the air, you watched as Digger shielded his eyes from the sky. His stumbling stopped, and he began walking with his usual confidence, almost sobering up immediately in the light of the day.

"Christ! Still pretty bright out here..."

"Yeah, it's not that late. You tapping out early, George?"

"Nah, nah. Not at all! If I've got you for the night, then I'm havin' you for the night. C'mon, I know a place."

Admittedly, and strangely enough, you really hadn't had enough of him yet. It was one of the few things you agreed on, actually. This was supposed to be a date, you'd set aside the evening for it, so you were keen to make it last as long as possible. You couldn't let George know that, though. Keeping the upperhand seemed to be key with him, so you offered him a reluctant smile and rolled your eyes dramatically.

"Well, I suppose so."

Stepping up into the passenger seat of his van you caught him smiling back at you, knowingly. You weren't kidding him, he wasn't as stupid as he seemed at first pass, but he was kind enough to let you keep up the ruse. It didn't stop him getting a little dig in at you, however.

"Are you sure? If you're not keen I can take you home, babe. Wouldn't want you to be bored or something."

"And where are you planning on taking me that isn't boring, then?"

"Eh... just a little spot I know of. Quiet, secluded. Up that back road to the overlook. But again, if you're not into it..."

"No, no. It sounds... well, it doesn't sound boring, anyway."

Digger laughed, starting up the van which groaned horrendously before sputtering to life. Before he drove off, he turned to you and winked.

"Definitely won't be, it never is with me, babe."

Pulling out of the parking lot, he turned away from the city and onto the quieter roads which led out past the city lines and into the expansive countryside that secluded Gotham from the rest of the world. From the window, you watched the sun slowly setting, clouds turning purple and navy as they pushed in from the sides like curtains on a stage show. You had all the time in the world to gaze peacefully, as George was driving in complete silence, way below the speed limit, focusing intensely on the road. He'd seemed to sober up once you were out of the bar, but you didn't want to distract him while he was doing his best to keep you both alive.

The van bounced along a short dirt trail until it stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by trees on all sides and far above the dim, intrusive glow of the city, which buzzed against the now deep, navy sky. Shutting off the engine, George turned and shot you a smile, eyebrows raised playfully, before he leapt out. He walked quickly to the back of the van and you followed, waiting patiently as he opened the two back doors wide, finally giving you a better look at what had been rolling around there the whole time he had been driving.

There wasn't much you could think to say, being of the opinion that you should only speak if you had kind things to say. From where you were standing, you could definitely tell that you had been correct in your earlier assumptions. This was where he lived. His rolling apartment. Convenient, yes. But it was a long way away from being one of the trendy 'tiny homes' you'd seen. The walls were adorned with four posters in total, all of them the kind of cheap standards you would expect in the bargain bin of some ancient music store, miscellaneous women in very little clothing gazing out as seductively as they could from the airbrushed backdrops. On the floor, there was a stick and poke tattoo kit that looked like it might be the source of several new variants of hepatitis, and it was littered with empty beer bottles and cans, some of which may have been half-full at the point he decided to drive off given how sticky the surfaces looked. And to top it off, there was a worn out mattress. No sheets on it, no sheets around it save for one scruffy blanket. It was covered in stains that you couldn't quite place, which matched the single, dented and almost flat pillow that lay haphazardly to the side.

"You live like this?"

That was what you had wanted to say, but again, your polite nature stopped you.

"Handy to just get in the van and sleep, or get out of bed and go."

George smiled, looking oddly proud of himself.

"See, you get it. You won't believe the amount of people who have been put off by- uh... well..."

He looked to the ground, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand.

"Not that there's been that many people I've invited into- A-and not that there haven't been any people that have been-"

"George."

You placed a hand on his shoulder and raised your eyebrows, offering him a sympathetic grin. He took the out, thankful that you'd put an end to his suffering, and reached in for the blanket, placing it flat over the top of the bed before offering his hand to you. Taking it, he helped you shift yourself into the back of the van, watching as you got comfortable on the mattress as best as you could, at which point he joined you.

Leaning back on his arms, he looked to the sky, sitting in silence for a few minutes. You had joined him, watching the stars start to sparkle as they became visible against the darkening backdrop. At some point, you realised that he was staring at you, and you wondered how long you'd had his gaze trained on the side of your head. Not on any other part of your body, you noted. He was looking at your face, gazing at your eyes. When you turned, you caught his stare immediately, smiling softly when he blinked and looked away with a cough meant to clear the air of the awkwardness he was bringing about.

Rooting around behind him, he eventually found two unopened beer cans, both of which were loose amongst the rest of his belongings. Keeping one for himself, he passed the other to you. He raised his, tipping his head with a 'cheers' and then cracked it open. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, a small trickle of foam slipping past his lips and down his chin. The urge to lean in and lick it off was disturbing, most of all because you felt yourself moving towards him before you even realised it. Settling back down into the strange romance of the moment, you pulled the tab on your own can.

The immediate explosion, the build up of pressure and gasses from the can being jostled around as you drove up the bumpy, dirt track to the spot you now sat in, left you in shock. Your shirt was soaked, completely, and the cool air was already beginning to chill your body. You blinked in shock, watching as Boomer tried to conceal his giggles while he stood up.

"Take your shirt off."

Looking to him, you raised an eyebrow, a look that said "is this really how you're going to make that move?" in a way that he read almost straight away. He began unzipping his blue hoodie, turning from you and passing it behind him, generously, and uncharacteristically, offering you some privacy.

Taking it from him, you quickly made the swap, your body exposed to the cold night air only briefly before you zipped up the hoodie, still warm from Digger's body. You tucked your bra and shirt under the mattress, making a mental note to collect them before you were home, hoping they would be dry. Making sure the zip was up completely, not offering any suggestive cleavage for Digger to hook his ideas into, you settled yourself, noticing that you were smiling. You could smell him on the fabric that covered your body. Beer, sweat, lingering smoke, an acrid smell you couldn't quite place and a sweet one on top of that. As the fabric grazed over you, you could feel your nipples hardening. It wasn't the cold though, it was faint arousal at the way you felt so close to him.

"You done yet, you're only putting a hoodie on!"

"Shit, yeah, sorry."

"I can look?"

He raised his hands, pulling them from his pockets and holding them up to his side, questioningly.

"Mhm, yeah."

When he was facing you again, he let his lips turn into an appreciative expression.

"Looks good. Suits you!"

Thudding back down beside you, George immediately lifted his arm up, wrapping it around your body and pulling you close. You found yourself settling into the hug, a natural embrace, one that made your heart flutter slightly as you let your head rest entirely against him. And then it happened, the moment that secured your confusion about him and his intentions. He sighed wistfully. So deep and joyous, his fingers digging into your arm to let you know you were the reason for the warmth spreading through him.

"It's nice out here, you can actually see the stars. Couldn't tell you what any of them were though."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

He turned slightly to look at you.

"What?"

"What? What are you doing? You brought me up here to look at the stars?"

George narrowed his eyes, his brow furrowing in confusion and slight irritation.

"Yeah! I thought it would be romantic!"

"Exactly!"

"Exa-... what?"

"You're so confusing. This whole evening, you yourself, it's not how I thought it would be. I mean, it wouldn't be you without the occasional grope and cheeky wink, but you've been so... You're so... It's weird to see you being so..."

Digger's hand fell to your thigh, a light pressure aiming to calm you down.

"So what?"

You couldn't answer it, because you weren't even able to settle on a definitive answer yourself.

So confusing?

So disgusting?

So gentlemanly?

So romantic?

So hot?

All of that and more.

And when words had failed you, you decided that you'd have to express your feelings another way.

It was less of a romantic, graceful move and more that you sank into him, falling against his body, your lips luckily making contact with his as you both found your way in the kiss. Neither of you expected it, both of you surprised. The tenderness, the hunger behind it. You could taste everything about him, smell him even better than you had when you had put on his hoodie. You expected he was experiencing the same.

Digger fell back, his hands catching your waist as he pulled you with him, both of you laying now on the mattress in the back of his van. His hands pawed, grabbed, skimmed over you, oddly restrained in fact. That was until you shifted yourself up and onto him, straddling his hips and staring down at him, panting heavily as you both caught your breath and took stock of the situation you were now in. His hands on your waist made their way up to your shoulders, your neck, cupping your cheeks as he grinned at you. Watching your face, your expression, for any subtle changes as he let his hands trail back down your front, fingers catching on to the zip of his hoodie and pulling it down slowly, opening it to expose you to him before he cupped at your breasts as you bit your lip.

"Fuck me..."

Digger let out a low groan that followed his short, to the point statement. His fingers circled your nipples, tightening around them as he teased you. His hips bucked up, jostling you, letting you feel how hard he was. You could tell just from that motion that the rumours about how gifted he was had truth behind them.

Bending down to kiss him again, you let your tongue slip past his lips, his own meeting in your mouth. He tasted divine. Sweet, but acidic. Earthy almost, definitely addictive. Everything felt dream like, surreal. Mostly, you assumed, because you were doing something you'd never dream of, something you knew was ill-advised, a little bit silly, embarrassing in the right company. But it was hard to care.

You were quickly brought out of the dream like state however, as you felt Digger's hands between both of your crotches, unbuckling his belt and fiddling with the zipper on his jeans.

"Wait... on the first date? You think you've charmed me enough for that?"

With the smug, self-satisfied grin you had grown oddly fond of, George looked into your eyes as he spoke.

"I think you started this, so it's a pretty good indication of how much I've charmed you."

He winked as he let his fingers tug at the waistband of your own pants, pulling at them as you leaned in to another kiss. Your attempts to stop him, or at least to pretend that was your intention, were put to one side as your body reacted to the feeling of the cool air against your bare skin, his hands, rougher than you expected, holding your thighs, pulling your pants down further until he needed you to move.

"Well... have I charmed the pants off you at least?"

Smiling back at him, you nodded your head from side to side as though you were weighing up his efforts over the evening.

"I suppose you have charmed the pants off me, yes. But... I'm not sure how much further your winning personality has gotten you."

"There's plenty of time for me to catch up, then."

Clumsily, and with very little grace, you shifted and removed your pants, blushing as you noticed Digger watching you intensely, taking note of every movement, every second of you undresssing, as though you were offering him the performance of a lifetime. As you steadied yourself, he hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear and pulled you back to him, landing you flat on top o f his body, your hands on his chest.

Teasing at the band of your panties, he dipped two fingers underneath the fabric, skating over your mound and down to your lips, stroking them gently before spreading them apart. He rubbed one finger up and down, collecting your slick as he licked his lips, desperate to know how you tasted. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he ran them on his tongue, sucking them with his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me."

He continued unzipping his pants and pulling them down, boxers included, to reveal his more than impressive cock. At least ten inches, easily, thick, perfect, topped with a tuft of almost flaming red hair. Trying to control yourself, you leaned back.

"What are you planning on doing with that, Harkness?"

He squirmed, pressing his eyes shut and biting his lip before he managed to strain himself enough to speak.

"I just want... I want you... touch it... feel you... something... come on, please!"

Shuffling forward, teasing him knowingly as you felt his head, his length, against your thighs, you mused out loud, humming as though you were actually considering it, as though you hadn't already made your mind up yet.

"I suppose... this was a pleasant enough date. I could give you something, throw you a bone."

He nodded furiously below you, muttering his words of agreement.

"But! Just the tip. I'm not sure how much more of that I could take. It should come with a warning."

George actually blushed, looking away from you for a moment, as though the comment had genuinely embarrassed him. It did seem odd to you in that moment that he wasn't constantly bragging about his prowess in that area. He struck you as exactly the kind of person who would mention the size of his cock at any opportunity. You wondered if had the effect on others that it had on you. It was daunting, a little bit nerve-wracking. How many of the few people who had made it this far had given up at the sight of it, you wondered.

Most, you assumed, as despite how desperate he seemed to fuck you, he agreed enthusiastically, happy to be offered any opportunity to get as close to you as possible. He was already pulling at your underwear, grasping at it, trying to pull it down before deciding to push it to the side as he lined up the head of his cock with your swollen lips.

Looking directly at you he maintained the intense eye contact as he slid himself between your lips, pushing at your tight entrance slowly, carefully, only allowing his head to enter you. It felt amazing. So good, better than you thought. It stretched, filled you up, and that was ten percent of what he had to give. He hissed, gritting his teeth in concentration, trying his hardest not to move his hips, to buck them, to push himself any further inside of you.

As you balanced yourself, trying to contend with the little of him that was inside of you, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing it, making you twitch, contracting against him, tightening the grip your cunt had on his head. As he groaned, you couldn't help yourself anymore. You wanted him, all of him. You were willing to risk it.

"God, George... just fuck me."

"Wh-what?"

"Fuck me! Just..."

Realising you might need to take matters into your own hands, you let yourself slide down his cock, each inch stretching you further, a shockwave of pain followed by dull throbs of ache and arousal coarsed through your body, the pit of your stomach feeling pressed, your insides stuffed with him. Llike you were being entirely consumed, enveloped, in George Harkness.

"Christ..."

It was all he could manage with the limited breath he had, his whole body stopping any other function to focus on not letting himself cum inside of you immediatel. The sudden warmth, the tight, wet embrace, the way you leaned back, breasts bouncing as helped yourself to him, riding his cock as he lay back and held your hips. His thumbs, stroking against your skin, where the top of your thighs met your lower stomach, feeling your own desperation as you worked him harder, faster, palms resting on his chest to balance yourself as you took everything he had.

Brows furrowed in concentration, pursuing your orgasm, you wailed as his fingers found their way back to your nipples, teasing them, grabbing at your breasts as you rolled your hips and felt his cock twitching agaisnt your walls. It hurt, but in a way that was delicious, a way that felt like it should be borderline illegal, like most things that provided such a wonderful, addictive experience were. But there you were, enjoying it. Loudly, explicitly. And very publicly. It didn't matter to you, and it really didn't seem to matter to George. You were quite happy to scream it from the rooftops then and there, how much you were enjoying it. Being fucked by Captain Boomerang, as ridiculous as his name always seemed to you. You'd be quite content to tell everyone that he was making you cum, that he was one stroke of his thumb against your erect nipples, one tap of his cock against the exact spot inside of you, from losing all composure.

"George... George..."

"Yeah... yeah, it's good... eh? I'm good."

"Fuck, you are. Yeah. Yes! Yes!"

One final, loud, resounding 'yes' echoed around you, filling the air, bursting through the trees. You imagined that anyone within a five mile radius might have heard Digger coming. His cock, falling from you against his body, still dripping with your slick, still spurting streams of his thick, white cum all over his abdomen, covering his thick pubic hair. His hands, still embedded in your skin, creating deep, red marks where the grip was far too tight, stinging so perfectly pleasantly.

Your own notes of pleasure hadn't exactly been all that much quieter than his own, but still drowned out by the amped up grunting and wailing of George. At least you could hold that saving grace. Allow yourself to cling to that modicum of your dignity.

Because you certainly weren't bothered about any other facets of it, as you slid down beside George on the dingy mattress, curling around his body, hand on his chest, smugly satisfied to know that you had contributed to the stains that would no doubt be a permanent feature.

#captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomer x you #captain boomerang fanfic #finnie writes

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froggibus · 1 year

Text

Mask Off - Stu Macher! Ghostface

Pairing: Stu Macher! Ghostface x f! reader

Genre: smut/NSFW (w a sprinkle of hurt/comfort cause, cmon guys, it’s me)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: at a party at Stu’s, the last thing you’re expecting is for the masked killer to save you from the man who tried to assault you, or for him to take his turn right after

CW: SA, murder, blood, knives, violence, standard Ghostface stuff, breath play, knife play, unprotected sex (make good choices), creampie, blood kink?, hints of a mask kink, degradation, lots of dirty talk, reader is referred to as a slut/whore, they fuck next to a dead body, established relationship, soft! Stu, Ghostface reveal

guys I just watched Scream 6 and I am so soft for Stu rn idek why. i usually don’t write stuff like this but the Scream movies are some of my favorites (def not cause me and the final girl have the same name…definitely not) and I’ve had HARD ghostface brain rot lately so…here’s this lol

————

Sitting on the living room floor of your boyfriend’s house, half drunk and watching movies, everything feels right. Sure, there’s a psycho killer on the loose, and everyone in the house is technically breaking curfew, but you couldn’t care less. Even with Randy geeking out over the Jamie Lee horror movie playing on the tv, you can’t complain.

The guy next to you on the floor, a couple more beers in than you are, shuffles closer. You side eye him, but don’t say anything. You find yourself looking for Stu—you know how jealous he can get. But your boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

You take a deep breath and another chug of your beer, hoping to calm the nerves that have found their way into your stomach. You don’t like the idea of your boyfriend being MIA when there’s a killer around.

Your nerves are shoved away when you feel a warm hand on your thigh. You turn to the guy next to you, who gives you a nod and a smirk.

He must be an idiot, or not well versed in the politics of Woodsboro Seniors, or else he would know that he’s in your boyfriend's house, trying to feel you up. You roll your eyes, finish chugging your drink, and head upstairs to try to find your boyfriend.

You don’t even hear the guy get up behind you.

You duck into Stu’s room, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Not wanting to go back downstairs, you fall backwards onto his bed and relax into the sheets. They smell like him, and the scent is so comforting, it’s almost enough to put you to sleep.

Almost.

The door opens and you sit up instantly, expecting to find your boyfriend but disappointed to see the guy from earlier.

“What do you want?” You squint at him.

“You disappeared on me, baby.”

“Look, I don’t even know who you are, and clearly you don’t know me, or else you would know that this is my boyfriend’s house. And believe me when I say he’s the jealous type.”

He sits down on the bed, and you shuffle to the other side, drawing your knees to your chest. He seems to take that as a challenge, smirking even wider.

“Your boyfriend never needs to know.”

“Get lost, dude.”

He’s on you in an instant, lips pressing against yours, body on top of yours. You shove him hard, but that only makes him lean in more. He’s so much bigger than you, so much stronger. The reality of your situation starts to set in, and you drive a knee into his groin.

He groans, pulling back and slapping you hard. He squeezes your face, eyes angry. “Listen, slut, hit me again and the killer on the loose is the last thing you have to worry about. Do you understand?”

You go to bite his finger but he clamped his hand over your mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He presses his hand down hard enough to keep you quiet, trailing his hand up your stomach. You squirm as his hand gets to your chest, still trying to deter him.

Just as he slips his hand up your shirt, you see the cloaked figure behind him. You let out a gasp that he takes as you enjoying what he’s doing.

You think it’s a prank, that someone is just trying to scare the people hooking up at the party. But the mask…the cloak…it’s all too real. And then you see the glint of silver and your blood runs cold.

You want to scream and run away, but at the same time, you want the man on top of you to suffer. You want to hear the knife sink into him and you want to see his blood come pouring out. And with the way he’s touching you, you would rather die than have to tell Stu what happened.

Not that he wouldn’t understand, but because you’re sure things would never be the same.

The guy doesn’t even notice the figure approaching, doesn’t even notice the way you’re almost crying into his palm. The figure, that the news has dubbed Ghostface, tilts his head at you.

You should be scared, you should be running, but you aren’t. Something about him, something about the way he’s looking at you, makes you feel almost safe. At least, safer than the guy currently forcing himself on you.

He pulls his arm back, revealing the sharpened knife once more, before driving it into the back of the man on top of you. He spasms, blood dripping out of his mouth and down your neck.

Ghostface doesn’t let up, though. He drives the knife in and out of him, penetrating his skin over and over and over. The sound of sharp metal against soft skin fills your ears, and warm blood covers you.

Finally, the man goes limp, and Ghostface practically throws him off of the bed. He crawls on top of you, replacing the dead man. His body is warm on yours, and he smells like blood and an almost familiar cologne.

He slides the flat end of the blade across your cheek, down your jaw and onto your throat. You suck in a breath, trying not to let your fear show. You can hear his breathing through the mask, and the feeling of the cold metal on your skin sends waves of arousal through you.

You should probably consult a therapist on that, given you survive.

He pulls the knife away from you, tucking it into his waistband. You squint. Isn’t he going to kill you?

He lifts up his hands, and for a second you think he’s going to strangle you. But no, he does something that surprises you even more. He removes the mask.

You gasp, covering your mouth in shock. You’re not sure who you were expecting, but it wasn’t your boyfriend.

He tilts his head at you, giving you a lopsided grin. “Sorry, baby. I lost my temper.”

You nod slowly, the idea that Stu is the Ghostface killer not quite registering in your mind. He wipes blood off of your face, licking it off of his fingers. Something about the action is so erotic that it has you clenching your thighs.

“I-I’m sorry,” your voice comes out strained. You’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for—for the guy who assaulted you or for your shock or for seeing him without his mask.

He pushes the hair out of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding and your clit throbbing.

His hand moves from your hair to your neck, squeezing gently. Stu was always fascinated with stuff like that—pain and breath play and knives. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t fascinate you, too.

He kisses you, lips hungrily devouring yours. You can taste blood, but you’re not sure if it’s from his face or yours. His hand slides down your waist, bunching up the fabric of your t-shirt and sliding his hand under it.

“Are you scared?” There’s a smirk on his lips, something dark in his eyes.

“A little,” you admit.

“Of me?”

“Not of you. Never of you.”

He just killed a man in front of you—on top of you—but you’ve never felt more safe. And that’s what scares you. Your own desires, your own fucked up thoughts and feelings.

“You know I’d never let anything hurt you,” he taps his fingers on your throat. “I would never hurt you. You’re mine, and mine alone.”

You tug him to you by the collar of his cloak, shoving your lips against his. He smiles against you, tightening his grip on your throat. Not enough to hurt, just enough so that you can feel the pressure.

He slides his hand into your pants, laughing at how wet your panties are. He rubs your clit through the fabric, moving his lips to suck and bite at your neck.

“D’you want me, baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please.”

He’s ripping your panties off and tugging his boxers down in an instant, pulling up his cloak just enough so that he has easy access. He rubs the head of his cock through your folds, gathering up your slick. He kisses you deeply just as he sinks his cock inside of you.

You never get used to the stretch, the delicious feeling of him moulding your walls to the shape of his cock.

He pulls out and thrusts back in, his cock going even deeper. You whine, throwing your head back. He laughs at your moans and keeps going, shoving into you at a brutal pace. You cry out in response, the moans falling out before you can stop them.

His hand clamps over your mouth. “Shh, be quiet. Do you really want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me? Do you want someone to walk in on you fucking the killer like a whore?”

His words only make you wetter, pussy clenching tighter around him. It only eggs him on more, his thrusts becoming harder and more forceful as he nears his high.

“Mm, I forgot you like being my slut,” he laughs in your ear, gasping whenever you clench around him. “Fucking me in the bed of the guy I just killed for you?”

You hate how much his words turn you on, hate how they only push you further towards your climax. You dig your nails into his shoulders, bunching up the black fabric.

He slams harder into you and you know he’s close. You wrap your arms around him, tugging him in closer. He thrust a few more times, movements sloppier, before his cock twitches and you’re filled with hot cum.

The feeling of his cum pooling inside of you is enough to send you over the edge, leaving you a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him.

He kisses your forehead, holding you closer to him. “As sexy as you look covered in blood, you should probably change.”

“What are you gonna do?”

He plants a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, ‘kay?”

You nod, rolling out of his arms and standing up on shaky legs. You’re covered in bed, your clothes absolutely soaked through. You head straight for the bathroom, soaking a cloth to wipe the blood from your skin.

“Y/n,” he knocks gently, “I left some of my clothes out here for you to change into. Go through the window and head through the basement door—I don’t want you getting caught up in this.”

You change into his clothes, trying to ignore the light bruises on your throat and thighs. You love how his clothes fit on you, though. You love being claimed by him.

You do as he says, sneaking through the basement door and pretending like you were just bringing up another case of beer.

Randy turns his head to look at you, and for a minute you think that you’re caught. He’s going to say something about your disappearance and change of clothes.

Instead, he just shakes his head at you. “Where’ve you been? You missed Basic Instinct!”

An arm wraps around your shoulder, the familiar cream coloured sweater draping over you. “She was just helping me get more beer,” Stu shrugs.

Randy makes a face, but says nothing. He turns back to the tv, and Stu takes that as an opportunity to kiss your neck. “Just so you know,” his voice is barely a whisper in your ear, “I’m keeping the mask on next time.”

2K notes · View notes

sunniskyies · 4 months

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 || 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐚 𝐑𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: "Clarisse x reader where readers emotions control weather? If that makes sense" 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Zeus sees Percy being claimed by Poseidon as an act of war, and decides to retaliate by claiming a child of his own 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: show!Clarisse La Rue x Zeus!fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Swearing 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Smitten Clarisse ofc (>ᴗ•) ! 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k 𝐀/𝐍: Thank you so much for your request, I adore this concept !! I tried my best to replicate the reader’s emotions in the weather through the story, not just after she’s claimed. I hope I did it justice !! Enjoy <3

Terrified tears are streaming down your face and your heart is pounding in your chest. The rain is pelting against the windows now, and thunderclaps seem to shake the earth.

"Dad? I don't understand, what is that thing?" You choke, staring at the pair of red headlights out the back window, censored by the sheen of rain on the glass.

Except it isn't a set of headlights. It's a pair of eyes. Red, glowing, blood-thirsty eyes.

"D/N, are we almost there?" Your mother cries, her knuckles pale as she grasps the fabric of her pants.

"Yes," he grunts, foot hard down on the accelerator. "Y/N, do you see that hill ahead? With the pine tree?"

You squint into the darkness, just about making out the landmark your father is referring to, lit up by the high beams of the car.

"Yes, Dad. But I don't underst—"

"Listen, you must get to that tree no matter what. Don't look back, don't stop. Get past that tree and you'll be okay."

A sob escapes your lips, a crackle of lightning lighting up the sky. Behind the car, the light illuminates the beast chasing the car. A truck-sized mastiff, dripping saliva from a lolling mouth adorned with yellowing teeth. A scream peals from your throat as darkness swallows it once more.

"What is that?" You wail. Before either of your adoptive parents can respond, something large slams into the back of the car.

You're sent spinning, but the Hellhound doesn't let you hit the side of the road. It immediately stops you with a paw, tearing a hole in your car.

The beast's jaws snap eagerly at you, and you scramble backwards. In the front seat, your parents are reduced to slumped, motionless silhouettes. Terrified, you fumble for the door handle behind you, falling backwards onto the concrete and feeling your skin scrape.

You struggle to your feet, jumping away as the dog's fangs tear the car into a pile of coleslaw.

"Stop!" You shriek. Another lightning bolt reveals the landscape around you, and you see the hill towering above you, the pine tree adorning it rocking around in the hurricane-force winds.

Your father's words echo in your mind as your legs pump desperately up the slick, wet grass. They'll be okay, they got out, you think when the Hellhound turns away from the shredded metal, scarlet gaze now trained on you.

You're still nowhere near the top, and now the monster is practically upon you. It runs towards you like an excited puppy, gangly legs crossing meters of distance in seconds.

You're just about to squeeze your eyelids shut and say your final prayers when an explosion of light scorches the ground in front of you, knocking you hard backwards.

You feel your head collide with something, and then it's all dark.

A faint buzz is whining in your ears.

Where am I?

Your eyelids feel glued down when you try to pry them open, and when you manage it you're met with a kaleidoscope of white sheets and plain walls.

Your vision is swimming, but you make out the figure of a girl standing in the doorway. She has dark, coily hair and an unreadable expression on her face.

"Where am I?" You croak, your throat dry and scratchy, probably from all the screaming.

But the girl doesn't respond, just turns and leaves.

Exhausted from the effort, blackness envelopes you again.

"And this here is Cabin 4, Demeter," the boy with black hair says, gesturing to the building.

You sign inwardly, body still tired and aching. In the last few hours you have woken up, been told your parents are dead, gotten told everything you thought about the world is wrong and now you are being given a very in-depth tour of 'Camp Half-Blood'.

The sky is overcast, and you wearily listen as the boy goes on.

"And here is Cabin 5, Ares—" Luke is cut off by an olive-skinned girl storming out of the cabin's door, practically colliding with you.

"Fuck— watch where you're going, idiot!" She growls. When she looks up at you, a flicker of something swims through her eyes, but is replaced promptly by a glower.

"Newbie," she snarls. Behind her, a group of kids seep out of the cabin after her. At her words, they don menacing scowls and jeer.

"She looks awful!" One laughs.

"Push her over, Clarisse!" Another crows.

Clarisse cocks an eyebrow, looking you up and down pointedly. "You guys think I should teach this runt her place?" She asks. She's responded with cheers.

You step back hesitantly. Luke sighs.

"Clarisse, I'm just doing my job. Do you have to be difficult?" He says exasperatedly.

"That's okay, Castellan. You can go now, I'll look after the newbie," she grins, stepping forward to wrap her fists in your collar. She drops you, letting your exhausted body hit the earth with a thud. "Comfy down there, Darling?"

The all-too-fresh memory of falling out of the car escaping the Hellhound resurfaces, and angry tears spring to your eyes.

Your lip curls as you look up at 'Clarisse', her smug smile towering over you.

"Listen," you spit, standing up. "I've just been attacked by an actual Hellhound. It killed my parents. I'm exhausted. I'm just trying to get through this tour so I can get to whatever stiff sleeping bag they give me and go to sleep."

The overcast sky has darkened, heavy black clouds groaning with thunder threaten to release rain.

"I don't need some tough girl who thinks she owns this—apparently—magical fucking circus to tell me 'my place.' My place is back home with my parents. That's where I belong. But they're gone, so shove off back to kindergarten and learn some manners!"

Your voice cracked at some parts, and you know tears are threatening to fall from your eyes. But the dark look on your face gets the message across.

Clarisse's eyes glimmer with that look again, a tiny thing only you can see. But for everyone else, they just see her shrug.

"Whatever, Darling. Just watch where the hell you're going, m'kay," she states, spinning on her heel and sauntering off with her band of Ares kids scurrying behind her.

You sigh, letting your tense shoulders sag. The rain clouds give a shudder and release a light drizzle. You wipe a small tear from one eye.

This is definitely the hardest day of your life.

Your feet glide over the pine needle soundlessly, a hefty Xiphos clutched in your hands.

It's been a week since your arrival at Camp Half-Blood. A week full of training, lessons and camp activities. You have found yourself rather handy with a sword, and you're even warming up to the kid in Hermes' cabin.

Ahead of you, Clarisse La Rue and her band of sheeple are wandering back towards their flag. You're stealthily following them, the chocolate-eyed girl none the wiser.

The sky is bright and blue, flocks of cheerful clouds frolicking around on the sweet summer winds. You feel a thrill of joy pass through you. It's a beautiful day, you've finally settled in, and you are about to beat that bully La Rue.

Well, you would have if, in your excitement, you hadn't carelessly stepped on a twig.

Gods, didn't that only happen in the movies? You wince as the pack of Ares kids whip around, spears and swords brandished.

"You!" Clarisse says when she sees you. "Trying to find our flag, are you?"

She smirks, stalking forward. You step back slightly, heart pounding. Yes, you are quite good with a sword now, but you are no match for Clarisse. Even you can admit that.

She leans in close. "You should know better," she says, her voice honeyed.

A couple of her teammates move forward, teeth gleaming and swords hungry for skin. Clarisse's eyes flash, and she holds up a hand.

"No, go on to the flag. I'll deal with her," she orders. Some of the kids look doubtful, so Clarisse gives you a shove for emphasis. "I'll deal with her."

Reluctantly, the kids peter out. Turning back to you, Clarisse holds your gaze for a moment, before shaking her head with a scoff. But there isn't much venom in it.

"Just stay out of it, newbie," she grunts, swinging her spear leisurely over one shoulder and turning to leave.

You frown in disbelief. "That's it?"

Clarisse pauses, looking at you over one shoulder. "What, do you want a fight, Darling? Because we both know that would just end up with you in the infirmary."

You tilt your head, observing the brown-haired girl. "No, not at all. You're just... not what I thought."

Clarisse scoffs again, but there is even less malice in it. You think you must be imagining the warm glow around her cheekbones.

"Just, stay out of it," she mutters, turning and jogging off into the trees.

You stare after her, cheek tingling where her breath had brushed it.

Of course, you didn't stay out of it. You had followed after her, the girl too flustered to notice you slipping in and sneaking off with the flag.

After your win, the whole camp accepted you fully. Ares still shoots you glares, but no one has dared push you over again.

And yet, no God or Goddess has claimed you. Many campers are after a week or two, but it has been months and still not a sign.

"She's too smart for an Ares," someone guesses.

"But she's too tough for Athena," another had argued.

"What about Apollo? She's alright with a bow."

"Definitely not, have you heard her sing in the shower block?" Someone laughs.

"I mean, that would explain why Apollo hasn't claimed her!"

Every day begins to feel worse than the last, every time you prove yourself worthy you are rewarded with nothing. Even the weather seems to agree, the sky gradually getting gloomier and wetter. Campers have been grumbling about this being the 'bleakest summer ever.'

The only spark in your life, unbelievably, is a certain fiery girl from Cabin 5.

You've been entertaining yourself by trying to worm your way into the stony warrior's heart, your suspicions about her proving correct with every blush and scoff you are gifted with when you manage to sneak through a crack.

The clouds seem to part, letting a beam of rare sunlight through, whenever you're with her. When you're without her, you find your hands itching to touch her, a playful shove or a flick.

A few shoves and flicks later, you find yourself standing in the middle of the training Arena, clad in sweaty bronze armor being asked out by a flushed Clarisse La Rue.

A warm trickle of sunlight sinks into the space between you, both panting from the private spar you were in moments before. You can see every freckle, every dark eyelash on her face.

"Go out with you?" You breathe, lowering your sword from where it was raised. "Like, with you?"

Clarisse scoffs —her nervous habit, you've found— and removes her helmet, resting it on her hip. "Yes, with me, Darling. But if you're already set on Castellan, lift that sword again and we can forget about this—"

"Fuck Castellan, of course I'll go out with you!" You cry, letting your weapon clatter to the ground and wrapping your metallic arms around her.

You don't know what the other campers meant when they called it the 'bleakest summer ever.' All you know now is sunshine and blue-sky days, days filled with summery winds and strawberry picking and secret dates with your tough girl. You hardly ever think about your unclaimed status anymore, too in love to care. You can't even remember before Clarisse.

She's awfully protective of you, always standing up to anyone who tries to push you around. You did wish she wouldn't pick on the newbies, though.

"Clari, he's only 12! Give him a break," you protest. You're sprawled out in Clarisse's sheets as she sits on the end of the bed polishing her spear for Capture the Flag that afternoon.

"Nope. I hate liars," she states simply.

You roll your eyes. Always so stubborn. "Clarisse, he's barely put his foot in the door. Let the kid adjust."

Clarisse shakes her head. "No! He lied about killing the minotaur, he soaked me and my friends—" you snort "—and now he's walking around here like he's better than me! I ought to show that runt—"

You've sat up and pressed a kiss to her lips. Clarisse falters, flustered from the touch. For a girl who isn't afraid of anything, you've found her to be very timid when it comes to affection.

"No one's better than you, Clari," you murmur. Her face sets ablaze. "But, you don't have to prove that, we already know it."

Clarisse hums thoughtfully, leading into your touch for a moment. Then she springs up abruptly, leaving your lips cold. "Sorry, no can do. Reputation and all that. See you in battle, Darling!"

You flop back down onto the bed with a groan as she eagerly sprints off. That's right, you're on the opposite side.

"You really think he's the one, Annabeth?" You whisper to the patch of air beside you. You're crouched behind a bush watching the 12-year-old arch nemesis of your girlfriend dozing on a log after a very strenuous afternoon of dancing and playing with geckos.

"Yes," the patch of air replies. You sigh, shifting uncomfortably. You can't believe you let Annabeth rope you into this.

"Can we please go help Luke and Chris? I'm sure Percy can look after himself," you mutter. "And I'm bored!"

"Well, you won't be bored for much longer," invisible Annabeth says.

You turn back to Percy to see none other than your girlfriend stalking towards him brandishing her red-hot spear. Of course, you groan internally. She does look really good in those camo pants, though.

When the Ares pack start chasing the boy, you're about to step out of your hiding spot, but Annabeth's arm stops you.

"Not yet," she orders.

You may not be as formidable as Clarisse, but you are far from puny. You let her protect you because that's Clarisse's love language. But you can handle yourself perfectly well, one stormy glare of yours can send a camper fleeing for the hills. On top of that, you hate being ordered around, especially from a child.

But you listen, because you're reluctant to be as stubborn as your girlfriend. So you stay expertly hidden as you and Annabeth follow the pack down to the lake. But a flash of anger shoots through you when you see the young boy knocked to the floor.

"Sorry, Annabeth," you grunt, stepping out onto the gravel. "Clarisse! Leave him alone!"

Clarisse doesn't stop her tussle, just glancing over at you. "Stay out of it, Darling."

"You always say that," you growl, picking off one of the Ares kids and combatting him with your sword, and you quickly have him disarmed and on the ground. Suddenly, your head shoots up when you hear a bloodcurdling scream.

"Clari!" You cry, stomach clenching when you see the severed spear in her hands. Her gift from her father.

"Clari, stop. He's not worth it," you plead, running up to her when she hefts the scrawny boy into the air. Your arms wrap around her waist, and you guide a fuming Clarisse back towards the cabins. Percy will be okay, Annabeth will look after him.

Well. You thought she would, but you turn towards a 'splash' to see that the girl has pushed Percy into the lake.

"What the hell, Annabeth!" You begin to call over, but the words dry up when you see his bloody wounds knitting themselves over. Your jaw drops open when you realize what that means moments before the trident appears above the boy's head.

Poseidon, Poseidon, the Big Three, Poseidon, you hear kids all around you whispering. The poor boy looks shell-shocked.

"Fuck that kid," Clarisse says disbelievingly. You rub your hand on her back, once again leading her to the cabins.

"It's okay, Clari. He's just going to get slaughtered by Hades' monsters now, you know they're on the brink of war. You don't have to trouble yourself any—"

You falter when Clarisse stops walking, a look of horror in her eyes. You frown and look around confused when the rest of the Blue Team start staring at you too.

"What?" You ask, following the gaping camper's gaze to the space above your head.

The wind is knocked from your body. Above your head, an icy-white lightning bolt marks you. Daughter of Zeus.

Your insides churn—you're not an idiot, you know what this means. Zeus has seen Percy being claimed as an act of war and decides to retaliate by finally acknowledging his daughter.

The stares, the whispers, the complications, it all stirs in your gut like a hurricane. In the sky, a storm cloud has begun brewing and crackles with lightning.

"Stop staring!" You cry at your teammates, a bright lightning bolt lighting up the sky. Tears well in your eyes, and rain begins to pelt down on the gravelly shore.

When the campers don't move, you shoot them one of your deadly glares. "Scram!" You growl, the following grumble of thunder making them scatter. Only Clarisse stays.

"Don't you understand?" You sob to her, rain mixing with the tears on your cheeks. "He doesn't care about me. He hasn't cared about me for months! I'm just a bargaining chip to him, a plaything to through at his stupid brother!"

You turn to storm off, and the sky growls at you. "Is this me, too? Am I doing this?" You shout, gesturing manically at the sky. Clarisse crosses over to you.

"Screw Hades, screw Poseidon, screw the lot of them!" Clarisse hisses, grabbing your hands to stop you from leaving. "Zeus doesn't deserve you, Darling. Don't let him use you, don't give him the satisfaction."

You sniff, the rain softening to a shower. "I don't want to be like this," you croak, your foreheads touching as you look at your intertwined hands. Tiny sparks are erupting at the contact.

"I don't know, Sparky. It's pretty cool," Clarisse grins.

You laugh, the tension easing from your body. The dark clouds in the sky above blow away. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Why should I let them control me? I'll just explode them if they try."

Clarisse grins, brushing a wet strand of hair from your face and kissing you on the side of your mouth. "That's the spirit, Sparky."

( 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 !! )

#ph☆ebe's scribbles #percy jackson fic #one shot #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #fanfiction #fanfic #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue

663 notes · View notes

sxfthannie · 11 months

Text

His Angel

↦ pairing: idol!coups x idol!reader

↦ summary: you are a kpop idol with such pure image that everyone would call you an angel. Choi Seungcheol who took a liking to you wondered if you'd still look like an angel once he breaks you.

↦ warnings: coups and reader are not in a relationship, reader is a virgin, usage of pet name (angel), dom!coups, sub!reader, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, rough(?) sex, includes reader crying a little during sex.

↦ word count: 1.3K

↦ part 2

You were with no doubt a very soft spoken person. Both idols and fans alike agreed and often referred to you as an “angel”, acknowledging that it didn’t only apply to your personality but also your visuals. You had such a pretty face with a calm expression all the time, Choi Seungcheol wondered how you’d look if he ever breaks you.

And he did.

“If only they could see the state you’re in right now.” A light chuckle escaped his lips as he laced his fingers through your hair, watching as you sucked his cock. This was your first time and he was very well aware that you weren’t even that good at what you’re doing right now. If it was anyone else, he would’ve already gotten up and left but what had him turned on and on the verge of cumming into your mouth was the satisfaction feeling of having your pretty little lips; that spoke nothing but innocence, around his thick cock. “Fuck.” He pushed your head lower on his cock, your nails digging into the flesh of his thighs at the feeling of his tip on the back of your throat as he released himself inside you.

“Swallow.” He demands.

Once you do, a soft “good girl” slips out of his tongue as he pulls you up from the ground to lay you on his bed before pressing his plump lips against yours. His fingertips trailed down the outline of your body before finally reaching your exposed clit. He presses his fingers harder against you that had you whimpering into the kiss. Breaking away from the kiss, he pushes his middle finger into you, his pointing finger follows right after. He planted a kiss against your forehead as you slightly whimpered in pain of having his fingers inside you.

“Gosh, you can’t even handle my fingers, are you sure you can take my cock?” He teased while moving his fingers in and out of you, preparing you for what’s coming next. “I can,

I can take you.” You were desperate for his cock, for him, and he knows it.

Seungcheol laughs a genuine laugh out of endearment. “I know you can, angel.” He says, his fingers curling inside you and hitting the right spot. “You have to.” And he keeps curling his fingers at the same spot, knowing damn well that it had you arching your back for him. Once he decided it was enough preparing you, he moves into a better position on top of you, lining up the tip of his cock against your slit. “Wait, you’re not using condoms?” He raises his eyebrow at your question. “I’ve waited for this moment for too long. I can't bother myself with condoms, angel.”

He let out a soft sigh as he saw you hesitating. “Wait for a while then. I probably have some–”

“It’s alright. Let’s just do it like this.” You cut him off. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He wastes no more than a second to line up the tip of his cock against you once again. “Okay?” He questions, to which you nod your head. You expected him to push himself into you little by little but god were you so wrong. His thrust had you gasping, hands gripping the bed sheets below you tightly.

He places another reassuring kiss on your forehead and wipes away the little amount of tears that formed due to the sudden pain. “I just had to see that expression on you.” He only gives you a few seconds to recover before he starts thrusting in and out of you, every hard thrust of his leaving you on adrenaline. “Wait…s-slow down.”

“Slow down?” He repeats. “Angel, I came here to break you. If you really want me to stop then you know the safe word?” With your head still spinning from receiving all the pleasure, you hurry to fish out the memory of both of you deciding on a 'cute' safe word moments before sex.

You know you probably wouldn’t be using it because it’s Choi Seungcheol we’re talking about. You’d gladly and shamelessly take everything he has to offer.

“Cherries.” You reply. “Yes, cherries” is all he says before increasing his pace. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers together as he brings it up to his lips to place gentle kisses along your knuckles.

One thing you learned was that his gestures and words does not match the way he fucks you.

He leans down, lips finding your breast as he rolls his tongue around your nipple while his fingers fiddle around with the other side.

“Cheol.!” The moans of his name coming forth your lips and nails digging on his shoulders only turned him on more. “God, you’re so fucking hot.” Having you wrap your legs around him, he moved from your breasts to your neck, leaving a bite mark on your skin which he knew you were going to get in trouble for if anyone ever finds out but right now, he couldn’t care less and neither did you.

“You like being fucked like this on your first time?” You could only nod your head, but Seungheol wasn’t having any of those.

“Speak. Use those pretty lips of yours.”

“Yes..I l-love it.” As soon as you manage to choke out those words, his fingers immediately find themselves inside your mouth. He presses his fingers on your tongue, making you gag and causing more tears to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Suck.”

You did as told, rolling your tongue around his two digits while looking up at him through your blurry vision.

“You definitely need more practice but at least you’re a tad bit better than before.” Even though you were self aware of your lacking skills in this particular matter, hearing it directly from him made your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “No need to be embarrassed.” He read you like a book. “It’d be my pleasure to teach these things to you, my angel.”

He said my angel.

“Are you about to come?” He asked as he felt your walls clenching tighter around his cock. A soft “yes” leaves your lips and Seungcheol places a kiss on your tear stricken cheek. “Do it. You don’t hold back anything.” After a few more thrusts, you let yourself in on the pleasure. Seungcheol continues to fuck you through your high, chasing his own. More whimpers and tears escape you at the over stimulation and fortunately, he released inside you not long after, his thrusts finally slowing down.

Pulling his cock out of you, he very lightly pressed his thumb against your clit and let out a genuine innocent laugh as you wriggled away from his touch.

“I knew it.” He spoke, tucking your hair away from your face and wiping away your tears. “You’re the prettiest when you look like this,

or I dare say only now you look like a real angel.” Blood rushes up your cheeks at his words so you try covering your face with your hands but he was quick to stop you. Pinning your hands above your head, your heart skips a beat while he takes another closer look at your face. “I haven’t even fucked you that hard considering it’s your first time but look at you, already so drained out.”

“Not hard enough you say?” He nods.

“Next time, it's gonna be rougher, angel.” He says before locking his lips together with yours in a much softer kiss than the previous ones. You pulled away from the kiss, slightly pushing on his chest to get a better view of his face.

“What makes you think I’m gonna let you fuck me again?” You question and he laughs. “What then? Are you going to say no to me? I'm sure you won’t.” You tilted your head. “Again, why are you so sure?” He flashes you a sweet smile, fingers fiddling with your earlobe.

“Angel, do you think I never noticed your love stricken face whenever you see me?”

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