#trips while standing completely still and falls on my face

[linkvcr]

Coughs. Afternoon yall

[icepopstar5105us]

“Hey. Uh, Johnny?” Danny said awkwardly, “What does it mean when one of the older ghosts calls you their favored and why does it freak people out?”

Johnny 13 gave the halfa a bewildered look, “Dude. Didn’t you listen to Death? At all?”

“Death?” Danny scrunched his face, “What do you mean? I don’t…”

“Wait.” Johnny straightened, “You’ve talked with Death, right? She explained-?”

Danny shook his head, confused, “Was I supposed to?”

“When you first died, she’s supposed to appear. She gives a whole spiel and then transfers a bunch of information.” Johnny frowned, “She did it for Plasmius, so it’s not a halfa thing.”

“Oh.” Danny looked down, “What if… What if someone died and came back a few times very quickly? Would that… Would that cause any problems?”

Johnny stilled, horrified, “Ok. Look, do you want to talk about your death? Because I’m not asking if you don’t, but...”

“I guess…” Danny said, “So you know that my parents made the portal, right?”

“Yeah.” Johnny said.

“They’d been trying to do it for a long time. Plasmius actually worked with them for a while back when they were in college. It’s why all of their tech is similar in design.” Danny explained, “They built the thing, plugged it in, turned it on… and nothing.”

“But it works now.” Johnny frowned.

“Yeah. It does.” Danny nodded, “But remember my friends? Sam and Tucker?”

“The edgy emo and the computer geek?”

“As Sam’s friend, I am obligated to inform you that she is goth not emo… but yes, those two.” Danny smiled sadly, “My mom and dad were upset. They left the house and Jazz was working her shift at a library. The whole house was empty and I was… you know. A normal teenager home alone.”

Johnny snorted at that, “Ah yes. A completely normal teenager

“Yeah, yeah. The point is, the first thing I did after being left home alone was call my friends over.” Danny rolled his eyes, “Told them what happened and… It was Sam who suggested we go down there first — she’s always been into ghost and occult stuff — and look around. Tucker was down, because it was tech even if we didn’t think most of the tech would work. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to mess around with it. Jazz had given me some lectures on lab safety — my parents don’t usually follow it themselves — and I had a bad feeling so I put on the Hazmat suit.”

“That’s not a superhero costume you came up with?” Johnny asked, eyes widening.

“No, um. It’s a hazmat suit. The only way I changed my form was the insignia and even then that was Sam’s idea.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but um….” Danny paused, “We wound up standing outside the portal. It wasn’t working or anything, but there was a big spooky metal hole in the wall. You know, the kind of thing you’d expect in sci-fi movies. Sam dared me to go in and I was nervous. That bad feeling just intensified, but again — fourteen. I wasn’t being smart about it. So… I went into it. I kept going and it was dark. I was turning back when I tripped and I flailed. Accidentally hit some button that was on the side and it turned on.”

Johnny took a sharp breath.

“And um. Did you know that the portal takes a lot of electricity to start up?” Danny joked weakly, “Took three blocks worth. Um, lots of ectoplasm, too — from both the zone and the artificial stuff my parents use.” He shuffled, “So um, turns out both those things can revive and kill people. So I just kind of — died and revived a lot until it turned on and basically spat me out into the lab.

“That’s - Kid…”

“So um, maybe since I was dying and reviving so much death didn’t have a chance to fill me in? Honestly, would have like the heads up.” Danny said sheepishly, “I didn’t even understand what had happened until ghosts started coming through the portal.”

“Seriously?”

Danny shrugged, “I mean, I kind of suspected. I was falling through floors. It was hard to ignore, but I didn’t know - My parents are good inventors, but not the best scientists and it made things hard to figure out.”

“What? You bought that whole non-sentient BS?”

“No.” Danny shook his head, “I just didn’t buy any of it — and I mean none of it. I wanted nothing to do with the whole thing. The whole town thought my parents were crazy, they were always in the lab working, and I only ever saw them briefly once or twice a day. Don’t get me wrong. They’re still my parents and I love them, but… they have two big priorities. Their work and their kids. Their work is just… a higher priority to them.”

“Oh.” Johnny cringed, “Oh. Kid…”

“So yeah. Life sucks. Death sucks… but I really need to know what to do and why Ember is freaking out over me being called ‘favored one’.”

“Uh, right.” Johnny paused, “Well, it’s like old ghost language. Um. Basically, it’s like being called a really, really close friend or adopted family. Kind of like… ‘hey, this is my person that I love and protect’. It’s platonic unless they specify otherwise.”

“Huh, okay.” Danny blinked, “That makes sense, but why would Ember freak out?”

“Well… who called you that?”

“Oh! Clockwork and Pandora call me that when I visit.”

Johnny blanched, “What?”

“And now you’re freaking out, too.”

“You’ve been just- Kid! Are you just casually talking to them?”

“Um, yeah? They said it was okay?”

“Do you know nothing about the hierarchy of the- Wait. No. You didn’t get to talk to Death. Of course you don’t-“ Johnny sighed — covering his eyes, “Okay, so do you know what the ancients are?”

“I thought that was just a saying.”

“No, it’s not-” Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose, “The Ancients are the most powerful spirits in the Zone. They’re ghosts, but they resemble ideals more than they do a person most of the time. Practically gods. The ancients are Undergrowth, Frostbite, Nocturne, Pandora, Clockwork, Vortex, and Pariah Dark. Thing is… where most ghosts plateau at a certain power level the ancients can just keep growing in power. Clockwork is one of the strongest — so strong, the Observants bound him to their will.”

“Yeah, I heard about that, but he’s really nice, you know.” Danny smiled, “And he makes really good cookies really fast.”

Johnny stared at Danny for a long moment, “Danny. Do you not hear yourself right now? He’s basically the god of time.”

“Yeah, but if he didn’t want me to visit, I wouldn’t be able to find him.” Danny shrugged, “So he told me if I can see the clocktower, I’m welcome to come in.”

“Kid…”

“Besides. I’m friends with half of those guys and they’re cool.”

“Wha- How many ancients do you know?”

“Um… All the ones you just listed? I’m friends with Frostbite, Pandora, and Clockwork. I fought Undergrowth, Vortex and Nocturne before, but Nocturne likes me now. Um, Undergrowth doesn’t like me, though. Loves Sam, though… Um, obviously I know who Pariah Dark is after the whole thing in Amity-“

Johnny stilled, “Wait a minute… Kid. I need you to answer me honestly here… Did Pariah ever mention a challenge when you fought him?”

“Well, um. I guess? He was all formal speak, though, so…”

“Kid.” Johnny said very slowly, “Did he ever issue a challenge or accept a challenge from you?”

“… Um. He did say that he accepted my challenge or something, but wasn’t that just fight-talk or…”

“I think I get it now.” Johnny sighed, facepalming, “Just… maybe don’t tell people about this and consider asking one of the ancients allies you have about what Pariah accepting your challenge means for you.”

“For me? What-“

“Just… give it some thought.” Johnny paused, “And- Well, I can talk to Ember for you, yeah?”

“Thanks.”

—

Danny curled up on a sofa as Pandora embraced him with three arms and ran her fourth hand through his hair.

“Pandora.” Danny said softly, “Some of my friends say you, Frostbite, and Clockwork are ancients.”

“They are correct.”

“I didn’t know what ancients were.”

“I noticed.” Pandora laughed a bit, “But you’re a sweet child. You helped me get my box back and did not demand my favor. Perhaps it was selfish not to tell you, but I didn’t want to distress you. You are a kind and humble soul. Is it such a surprise I wish to continue seeing you?”

“You thought I would stop if I did?” Danny asked, confused, “I mean, sure my other friends were shaken up by it, but they don’t know you. Why would I be afraid when you’re so nice?”

Pandora blinked and then smiled warmly — a little laugh pulling from her throat. Oh, the innocence of such a young spirit, “Why, indeed? I suppose I didn’t give you or myself enough credit, did I?”

Danny shrugged, “I don’t have room to judge people for being different anyway. I’m a halfa. Pretty sure that’s even rarer than being an Ancient, right?”

“I suppose that is true.” Pandora smiled, “There are only a few halfas and none are quite like you. There will only ever be one of you.”

“Does this have something to do with why I never got to meet death?” Danny asked, confused, “That’s the only thing I can find that seems all that different-“

“In a way… Yes, but there are many more differences. The main one is that you powers have grown beyond Vlad Masters and they continue to do so.” Pandora said, “You are what we call a ‘Juna Potenco’. Most realms will never have heard of such things, but us ancients do not forget and when faced with a gift like yourself… well, you’ll only see more of us with time.”

“What does that mean? Is it bad?”

“No, no. It is a gift, not a punishment.” Pandora promised, “You are an inspiring soul, favored one, and it seems the realms themselves have seen that.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Danny pulled away and sat up as he shook his head, “I’m a halfa, but that’s what I am. It doesn’t say anything about who I am. There isn’t anything special about who I am.”

“Everyone else disagrees with that last statement.” Pandora shook her head, “But I will let you in on the secret.”

“Yeah?”

“These are not due to your half spirit nature, but something truly special.” Pandora cupped his cheek, “Danny, do you truly wish to know? As amazing as this is, I am not sure you will be ready for the truth just yet.”

“I’m - I’ve been debating what colleges to apply for, but… I don’t know if any of them will take me now with my grades. I still look fourteen — fifteen at the oldest… and I still feel fourteen.” Danny looked at Pandora with pleading eyes, “So if this would impact my future, I think I’d like to know. Before things get complicated.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, everything froze.

Danny looked up to see Clockwork putting a medallion on Pandora while Frostbite gave him a smile.

“I presume you’re here to assist in informing him?” Pandora asked.

“Indeed.” Frostbite nodded.

“Informing me of what?” Danny asked, confused.

“When you went to face Pariah Dark, you stated your intention to fight him.” Clockwork said, “And he accepted your challenge. You fought in single combat, removed the Crown of Fire from his head, and then managed to get him into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.”

“Vlad-“

“Plasmius might have locked the Sarcophagus, but you have repeatedly bested him and even when he has gotten the best of you, it has not been in single combat. However, Plasmius at one point claimed your fight was a ‘fun challenge’. You agreed — officially accepting it as such. When you defeated him, he lost any fragile claim to the throne.”

“Claim to the- Wait. What are you saying?” Danny glanced between them, “What? No. No… you have to be kidding me. I’m just me. I was trying to help, not-“

“Child, your soul was always going to be tied to the zone one way or another.” Pandora said, “Mortality is already a fragile thing, but someone so surrounded by ectoplasm at a young age all while experiencing the struggles you did with your parents absence… it was inevitable that you would be a powerful ghost.”

“But, then, Great One.” Frostbite continued, “You stood fully emerged in the space between worlds and thought of protection and forgiveness — mercy. You did not even consider vengeance or desires of your own. Only the wellbeing of others. It is an act of great sacrifice and not one many can complete so fully.”

“To put it simply, Danny.” Pandora said, “You’re one of us, Juna Protenco. New and young power that will grow infinitely. Though you are far from ancient, you will be with time.”

“An ancient to be.” Danny said distantly.

“The Ancient of Protection, Space, Mercy, and Matter.” Clockwork turned into his newborn form, “The best candidate for king we’ve had in a long time. Though, perhaps I am a bit biased.”

“Does it have something to do with space-time?” Danny guessed, “Because Matter, Time, and Space…”

“Correct.” Clockwork smirked, “Matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curved spacetime tells matter how to move. I guide you and you make changes that I will use to guide you again.”

Dannu blinked, “Oh. I get it.”

“You do?” Pandora blinked.

“That’s domains for you.” Frostbite chuckled and then quickly explained when Danny gave him a confused look, “We all innately understand our domains and their meanings. My domain is progression, society, and advancement.”

“Mine is responsibility, hope, protection, and perseverance.” Pandora revealed.

“Indeed.” Clockwork transformed into the middle aged man again, “But now that you know of your future, we must prepare.” He put his hand on Danny’s shoulder, “Your coronation must happen by the time you turn eighteen. As Ghost King, you will need to learn some diplomatic skills. We will teach you while you finish your human schooling.” Clockwork promised, “You can tell your parents the truth or you can say you are simply leaving for college, but Maddie and Jack Fenton cannot move to the Zone with you. Your sister is welcome. Your friends are welcome, but unfortunately…”

“I understand.” Danny lowered his head, “I don’t think I’ll tell them just yet. Maybe I’ll leave a note or a video, but…”

Clockwork’s eyes glazed over briefly — clearly checking the timeline.

“That is a good idea.” Clockwork nodded.

“Okay.” Danny swallowed, “I can’t -”

“No.” Clockwork said, “Honored as these two would be, they have their duties and people. They cannot. I am both bound by the Observants and a little too prone to acts of selfishness. It is too much power for me. No. It must be you.”

“You’re not selfish. You helped me.” Danny tilted his head, confused.

Clockwork chuckled guiltily as Pandora made a face and Frostbite shifted awkwardly.

“There is a reason people fear me, Danny.” Clockwork seemed more amused than anything by the sudden awkwardness, “I appreciate your trust in me, but I was not so good or kind in life. I hold domain over regret and retribution as well as time. It is a position I earned after giving and getting both in equal measure. I am not a protective spirit by nature. I am one that seeks justice and sometimes revenge.”

“I don’t get it.” Danny frowned, confused.

“Soon, you will.” Clockwork said grimly, “But for now… Trust me when I say all is as it should be.”

“Okay.” Danny said, “I trust you.”

“Now, time in.” Clockwork said. When Danny tried to give him the medallion he shook his head, “No, hold onto it. I believe it goes without saying, but do not lose it.”

“I know. I won’t.” Danny promised.

“Good, now… I believe you have some friends to talk to?”

“Er, right!” Danny said and rushed off.

“He doesn’t know who you are?” Frostbite turned to Clockwork, “And you haven’t told him?”

“… He’ll learn during his studies.” Clockwork admitted begrudgingly, “And it’s best that he come to me after he processes the information than during.”

“Just remember, Kronos.” Pandora glared as she handed over her medallion, “One wrong move-“

“Yes, yes, I am very aware of your opinions of me, Keeper of Hope.” Clockwork held a hand to Frostbite, “Shall I take you back to your people?”

“Er, yes.”

“Good, then-“

“Hey! I was not finished-“

“TIME OUT!”

Pandora sighed as they disappeared, “Ugh. He is always such a petty menace. One of these days…”

[eomayas]

smoke break • jjk

pairings: non-idol!jungkook x f!reader

genre: fluff

synopsis: you accompany jungkook as he takes a smoke break.

warnings: smoking (jungkook)

a/n: been in my drafts for months so i decided to bite the bullet and finish it

following jungkook outside, you suck in a sharp breath at the biting, chilly air and wrap your arms around your midsection. the silk tanktop you put on for tonight feels like a bad idea despite the fact that you have a coat on, every inch of exposed skin arising with goosebumps. you marvel at how he manages the cold air in just a tshirt, not a a single raised hair on his tattooed forearms.

jungkook rounds the corner of the bar and stands in the designated smoking area, a singular dim light illuminating the side of the building. he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and puts one between his lips, letting it dangle out the side so he can pull out his lighter and shove the carton back into his pocket. glancing over at you at the sound of your teeth lightly chattering, the corner of his lip twitches before he asks, “cold?”

“it’s fine,” you lie. you don’t know why you do, but you do it. jungkook chuckles, the smirk on his face spreading as he cups his hands around the end of the cigarette and sparks his lighter. you watch him in mild awe, the steady pounding of your heartbeat slowly increasing as he drops his hands and takes a drag of the cigarette. jungkook tips his head back and blows the smoke upward and away from you, eyes closing for a brief moment.

you quickly divert your eyes when his gaze lands on you. it’s dark so he doesn’t see the way you flush, heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck. you’ve only been seeing jungkook for less than three months, your relationship still new and not completely defined, and you still get nervous around him. he knows he has that affect on you and takes advantage of it; like right now, he lets his gaze linger on you a beat longer before smirking to himself and lightly shaking his head.

outstretching his leg, he gently taps you on the shin with the toe of his shoe, grabbing your attention. he blows the cigarette smoke up and away from you, eyes following it until it disappears into the night. “you said you had something to tell me?” he questions, a single eyebrow raised.

you wrack your brain for what you wanted to tell him earlier, mildly distracted by his mere presence, before gasping once you remember. “oh! you remember that one lady i work with—the one who i work next to? well, she got fired,” you say, quickly falling into the story.

jungkook is attentive as you talk, his full attention placed on you. he nods along with your story, only interjecting to ask questions when he feels necessary. for the most part, he just lets you talk, smiling at you fondly when you get really into your story and become much more animated than you normally are.

meeting his eye, you trip over your words and lose your place. “and she… she…” you blank, blinking at him stupidly while he just tilts his head to the side like a little puppy, waiting for you to go on. “she… sorry, i lost my train of thought.”

jungkook smirks at you and blows smoke out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. a small chill runs over your body, making you shiver irregardless of the fact that you have on a jacket. you’re convinced he likes making and watching you sweat; he wordlessly observes you for a few seconds, nothing but a smirk on his face and a cigarette dangling between his lips. “she was yelling in the lobby,” he offers, taking a pull from his cigarette.

it takes a moment for your brain to reroute and find its way back to that part of the story. “oh, yeah! so she was yelling, and our boss…” you get back into your story, breaking eye contact with jungkook for a brief moment in order to remember what came next.

jungkook watches you with a small smile on his face. each time you look at him, you quickly blink him out of your vision because it makes you blush, and by the third time you’re unable to take it anymore. “what?” you ask, face flushing in the moonlight.

shaking his head, he says, “nothing,” and flicks the ash off the end of the cigarette. it’s nearly a stub, shorter than his pinky. you look at him, lips parted, as he blows the last bit of smoke out of his lips and up into the night air. “it’s cute.” he murmurs, flicking his cigarette onto the concrete and stubbing it out with his toe.

“hmm? what is?”

“you,” jungkook replies, cupping his hands around his mouth and blowing his warm breath into them. his eyes never leave yours, and you’re positive he can see your blush despite the darkness of the night, because he smiles at you for real this time—teeth and all—as he rubs his hands together to bring warmth into them.

“whatever,” you mumble, but you’re smiling as you avert your eyes to a dirty poster tacked onto the brick wall behind him. jungkook chuckles and lightly pinches your cheek between the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger. you fake frown up at him, but crack a smile when he calls you cute again. “okay, enough.” you please, batting his hand away from your face.

“see: cute,” this earns him an eye roll, and you a kiss on the cheek since he rarely ever kisses you after he’s had a cigarette. “let’s go back inside.”

jungkook grabs your hand and leads you around the side of the building back into the bar, and you have the realization that you never got to the end or your story.

[bamboozledbird]

Written in the Stars // Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader Pairing: Stiles x Reader, Stiles x You (no use of y/n) Word Count: 5k Tags: fluff, fluff, fluff, i love my men nerdy and desperate, all characters are over 19, my vibe is it's like their sophomore or junior year of college Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, unprotected pnv (terrible advice, babes, don't listen to these idiots)

Request: stiles smut plssss!!! anything fluffy??? A/N: request mixed with a lil bit of an old work to ease me into my first smut. still coming across virginities at 27, and that is really something. s/o to the anon who requested it lmao.

Stiles’s childhood bedroom is an assortment of Star Wars paraphernalia, baseball posters, and bundles of wrinkled flannels squeezed to fit within four faded blue walls. There are a few books stacked on top of his desk, coated in a thin layer of dust from the semester away from home, and little plastic stormtroopers stand at attention on his dresser corners. It smells a little musty in his room, a little like damp earth, but you’ve always liked that smell. You especially like how his cologne smells here—like spice, like fallen leaves, like Christmas morning. 

“The curtains are blackout,” Stiles says. He pulls the heavy navy curtains over the window facing the small backyard. The grass is yellowing from the cold of winter, and the air is crisp with the same bitter chill. You shiver and burrow further into the sweatshirt you’d somehow commandeered long before you and Stiles were a we. A few flecks of dust float off the plaid bedding when he sits down on his bed. He looks up at you and grins at the sleeves hanging limply below your fingers, “Flip off the light.” 

You turn off the light and shut the door. It’s dark inside the room now—almost completely black. What little remains of the sun is gone, and now you can only see the glow-in-the-dark stars sticky-tacked to the ceiling. “You must have taken a lot of people up here,” you hum, grinning at him coyly over your shoulder. You’re not quite sure if he can make out the glint in your eyes under the pale fluorescent glow, but you’d like to think he can. Either way, you’re sure he knows.

Stiles laughs easily and scoots himself down to the edge of his bed, “Why?”

“For kissing,” you say, matter-of-factly, but you’re still grinning. You make your way towards him, and your prowl is far less smooth than you’d like it to be—the piles of books and a couple month’s worth of dirty laundry make an already difficult path downright hazardous. You count it as a win when you end up in his lap without tripping on anything, “Doesn’t everyone want to be kissed under the stars?”

His hands, his wonderfully large and veiny hands, find their way to your hips. It’s instinct for him, reflexive at this point, and here in the dark it feels like the only thing he knows. You can feel his grin against your neck, “Do you?” 

You hum, playing coy, and absently curl your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, thick and curling a bit at the ends. It’s grown out over the last few months. He’s been too busy with studying for finals and working at the library to bother getting it cut. You like it like this, long enough to hold onto, long enough to yank. “I like the stars,” you sigh—so close to his mouth, but not touching—and then you pull back, smiling fondly when you see his mouth is already puckered. “Tell me about ‘em.”

Stiles groans and falls onto his back, pulling you down with him. You end up tucked against his side, shivering as he slides his hand under your sweatshirt to trace a feathery line up and down your back. “That’s like the worst possible genre for innuendo. I can’t woo you while I’m David Attenborough-ing about astrology.”

You smile against his shoulder, and he yelps when you nip at his skin through his thread-bare t-shirt. “You like a challenge.”

He wraps a strand of your hair around his finger and pulls a little, just hard enough to tip into a reprimand. It’s at least half the reason you turn into a brat when he’s this close. “There’s Andromeda,” he hums against the top of your head, pointing towards a small cluster of stars. “Those are supposed to be her legs, and that’s her head, and the ones over there are her arms—fuckin’ uneven, I know. I think that side kinda looks like she’s holding out one of those canes with tennis balls on t—”

You smile and knock your head into his chin lightly, “Wooing, Stiles.”

He tugs on your hair again and swears under his breath when a little whimper tumbles past your lips. “Anyway, she’s next to Perseus—who looks a lot more like Patrick than a demigod. I mean, look at him; his body type is like…something between Dorito and spanakopita.” You laugh, and Stiles squeezes you closer to his side, tangles your legs together, and kisses the tip of your nose like he just can’t help himself. “Story goes, Andromeda's mom royally pissed off Poseidon, so he sent a sea monster to destroy her kingdom—as one does when someone’s talking shit.”

“Naturally,” you hum as you reach for the hand he has cupped around your waist. 

“Naturally,” Stiles agrees, nodding against the crown of your head. You try not to get too distracted by the length of his fingers, bending them and straightening them out one at a time, as he carries on with the story, “So Andromeda’s mom is up there with the titans of bad parents—like right next to Vader and every Disney step-mom ‘cause she fuckin’ ties Andromeda to a rock as a sacrifice for the mo—” He sucks in a shallow breath through his teeth when you start kissing along the row of his knuckles, first little soft brushes that almost tickle and then a few lingering ones that wet his skin. He swears again and ever-so slowly shifts his hips against the thigh tucked between his legs. You take pity on him and rest your entwined hands in the small gap between your breastbone and his ribs. His exhale is warm against your forehead, “Obviously, Perseus swoops in at the last minute, slays the beast, gets the girl, etcetera, etcetera.”

Humming, you tip your chin up against his chest and look at him through your lashes, “What happens during etcetera, etcetera?” 

“I think,” Stiles rolls over so that he’s on top of you, bracing his weight on his forearms, caging you in delightfully close to his broad chest, “something like this.”

You forget about the game for a minute when he starts mouthing at your skin with just the right amount of teeth. His hair, adorably messy and sticking up in little patches from your fingers, tickles the hinge of your jaw. “Didn’t Perseus kill Medusa?” you mumble, head tipping back into the mattress, eyes closed. 

“Uh,” Stiles keeps kissing along your neck, obviously distracted by the hitches in your breath and the soft sighs you let out when he breathes against spit-slick skin, “yeah?”

You can feel the heaviness of his whine against your mouth when you pull away, blinking up at him with big, round eyes—the picture of innocence. A little lamb, an unplucked daisy, a gossamer butterfly wing, entirely unaware of the raging hard-on pressed against your inner thigh. His skin is warm through his shirt, so warm you feel it on your legs when you wrap them around his waist. “While she was sleeping?”

“Uh huh,” Stiles slides a hand up your thigh. The other one is pressed into the mattress, and the muscles in his forearm flex under his full weight. You’re pretty sure he’d agree with anything you say like this.

Unfortunately for the pulsing between your legs, you’ve fallen victim to your own ruse. Your head tilts as you recall all the unsavory details of the Medusa myth, “After she was literally assaulted by his dad?”

Stiles drops his head against your chest and groans, “You’re killing me, baby.”

You grin and curl your fingers in his hair, petting him gently and squeezing your thighs against his hips, “Tell me another one.”

He sighs and rolls over, starfishing his right arm and leg over the edge of the bed with a dramatic flop. “We’ll skip Orion and the seven girls he stalked.”

“Smart choice,” you hum and snuggle into his side. His chest is firm from hours of trying to lift enough to play lacrosse with werewolves, but it still makes for a nice pillow. Stiles’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you swallow back the purr rising in your throat for his sake. He’s been so good for you, after all. You don’t want the torture to be too painful.

“And the swan-fucker,” he adds, scratching lightly at your scalp.

“What?”

Stiles ignores your wide eyes, smirking, and continues playing with your hair, “Altair and Vega. That’s a good one.” In the blanket of darkness and under the strain of yearning, his voice sounds soft and crackly, like one of those singers in the black and white movies, the ones that dance with the microphone. “Starts with a gorgeous, sexy, incredibly charitable goddess falling for a lowly mortal,” his grin is sly as he hikes your thigh over his, squeezing just under your ass, “a lot like us.”

“Boo. Awful.” You pull a face as he drops a flurry of kisses over your cheeks, nose, chin—your laughing mouth, “Disgusting. I’m disgusted.” 

His fingers dip into the waistband of your leggings, tauntingly close to just where you want him, “You don’t feel disgusted.”

Now, that won’t do. You’re just getting started. You trap his hand with your thighs and tap your finger against the slope of his upturned nose, “Finish the story.” 

Stiles whines a little and then sighs, returning the palm of his hand to the little dip above your hip. “Her dad is disgusted that she wants to bring a loser human home, so he turns them into stars on opposite sides of the galaxy.”

Frowning, you squint at the collection of stars he’d pointed to. They don’t look so far apart on his bedroom ceiling. “That’s…depressing.”

“It’s not over yet,” Stiles pulls on your hair and does his best to look annoyed, but the nip to your bottom lip feels far more like a reward than a punishment, “hush.” He waits a minute for you to comply—or, more likely, not comply—and you settle back on his chest and arch your brow, waiting. He arches his brow right back and then keeps going, “One day a year, on the seventh day of the seventh month, Altair fills the galaxy with his tears, and every bird in the sky makes a bridge with their wings so that they can spend one more night together.”

The corner of your mouth tugs into a little grin, “That is a good one.” You trace little patterns on his bicep, little swirls and stars, and rest your chin on his shoulder so that you can see his pretty face, “But just for the story. Only one night a year would kill me.”

“Baby,” Stiles clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth and shakes his head like he's disappointed, bottom lip jutting out slightly from under his top, “it'd take a helluva lot more than a couple light-years and an immortal father-in-law to keep me from getting to you.” 

It’s such a line, but the dopey grin he gives you while he says it somehow makes it charming. Maybe you’re just a little bit lovesick. Okay, maybe a lot. “You can kiss me n—”

He’s on you before you can finish, but you don’t mind being interrupted when he's slanting his mouth against yours just right and groaning into your sighs with a gravelly pitch that makes your toes curl. “Fuck me,” Stiles sighs. He dips back in before you can quip something bratty, something that would definitely earn you another yank on your hair—later perhaps. 

You straddle his waist, sit back in the cradle of his pelvis, and lace your fingers together on the mattress against the sides of his head. He whimpers. You curse. “Off,” you mutter against his mouth, tugging petulantly on the hem of his t-shirt. Stiles is quick to comply, like always, but the fabric gets stuck around his shoulders. You let him struggle for a minute, just long enough to hear more of those petulant little whines. When you finally help him wrangle his shirt over his head, you’re up close and personal with his mouth. His lips are pretty—swollen, pink, and shiny with salvia and your lip balm—and you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to bite. You toss his shirt somewhere on the floor behind you and lean down, your chest pressed against his. You can feel his heartbeat stutter, like a rabbit in a trap, when you stroke your thumb over his bottom lip. It’s soft and wet against your finger, and you sigh high in your throat, “Pretty.”

His chest warms, and you wish you had more light to admire the flush spreading from his neck to his cheeks. You know it’s pink and pretty too, but you’d enjoy seeing the proof. “Pretty?” Stiles echoes, cocking his head slightly, and slides his hands from your ass to your hips. He continues his path along the sides of your ribcage with the bottom of your sweatshirt bunched between his fingers.

“Pretty,” you nod, sharp and definitive. You sit up a little so that Stiles can pull your hoodie off, and then it’s lost to the dark abyss. Frankly, you aren’t that worried about if you ever see it again. You can always steal another one after you’re done. 

He shakes his head and runs his hands over your torso, your collarbones, your stomach, just under your tits—he can’t see that well in the dim light, so he’s damn well going to see you the only way he can. “Pretty,” Stiles groans, cupping your tits and gently thumbing over your nipples through the thin fabric of your cotton bra. It’s simple, white, unadorned by lace or a pattern—and it’s sexier than it has any right to be, he thinks. He’s eager to rip it off.

You shudder through the entire length of your spinal column, through all the nerves attached, and arch into his touch, “Yeah?” 

He coos, and your nipples pebble in response. It’s embarrassing but soon forgotten when Stiles cups your face, big hands encompassing almost the entire length of your jaw, and whispers, “Pretty girl. My pretty baby.” 

It’s even more embarrassing how quickly you feel your underwear dampen under the scrutiny of some simple praise. Now, you’re whining, and he’s letting out a string of guttural, “Fuck,”s as you grind down against the increasingly painful bulge in his jeans. Your nails leave little pink lines along the sculpted v of his pelvis, just deep enough to sting a bit—enough to send his head back towards his shoulders. He sits up a little more so that he can grip your hips, holding them still as he catches his breath, and you’re only a little ashamed of the way you mewl his name in protest. Stiles shuts you up with a kiss and shakes his head, “Can’t come in my pants like I’m 17 again. That’s the worst possible ending to our constellation. Like a 1/10, definitely certified rotten.”

You grin against his throat, and he swallows at the sharp press of your teeth. “Oh, I don’t think that’s the worst ending. Wouldn’t the worst be the one where you don’t come at all?” 

Stiles’s fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you down firmly against his lap, like he’s scared you’ll get up and leave him with a weeping cock and teary eyes. “Baby, don’t even joke about that. That’s a billion times worse than letting a sea monster rip me in half.”

“Guess you can split me in half then,” you shrug a little, and Stiles goes taut under you, fingertips flexing into the small of your back, “unless you want me to tie you to a rock. I’d be into that.”

He growls in your ear, nipping at your jaw and flipping you onto your back. You laugh, a little breathless, as you bounce back on the mattress from the force of it. “Definitely wanna split you in half,” Stiles mutters as he shucks off his pants and kneels at the edge of his bed. He starts peeling back your leggings, taking his time to kiss each sliver of skin revealed to him despite the urgency in his eyes, despite the ache in his white-knuckled grip on the buttery martial of your bottoms. “Gonna wreck you,” Stiles promises as he brushes his lips over your ankle a few times. His words are filthy, but his eyes are honey-sweet and lit with nothing but complete and utter devotion—like you really are a goddess in the sky. You’re already wrecked, probably have been since he kissed you for the first time, entirely ruined for anyone else.

“Did’ya know that Vega is brighter than Altair,” he says, quiet and reverent as he drops your leggings. You blink at him, a bit dumbly, but it’s his own fault for trying to have a conversation while he’s sliding your legs over his shoulders and fiddling with the hem of your underwear. “By, like, 5 places? I think? That’s us too—can’t even look at you sometimes,” he hums, warm against your wet cunt, and hooks his thumbs around your panties. You shudder, and he smiles. You aren’t quite sure if he’s talking to you or to the glistening flesh he reveals when he yanks the baby pink cotton to the side. Either way, you understand his dilemma. It’s torture to watch him sometimes. You have to close your eyes when the pink tip of his tongue darts out, wetting his lip, tasting the air. 

There’s a sigh. So soft. Really more of an exhale, and you aren’t sure where it came from. It could’ve been you, or him, or the stars. “You talk a lot,” this time you know the sigh is coming from you. 

Stiles smirks a little and slips his thumb inside your panties, swiping through your slick folds like he’s fingerpainting, “Is that a complaint?”

Your hips stutter, and his other hand is quick to clamp down on your skin, stopping any attempts to skitter away from his light touch. “I love it when you talk,” you hum, leaning up onto your elbows so that you can watch him work. He grins up at you, almost shy, and presses down against your clit. A wet gasp bursts through swollen lips as your back arches, and Stiles isn’t so shy when he bends down to drop a gentle kiss over his thumb. “But I, uh,” you brush your fingers through the dark hair flopping over his forehead and squeeze your eyes shut when his kisses become kitten licks, “I also love it when you use your mo—” His finger (his long, gifted finger) slides into your cunt with an embarrassing squelch, and his lips wrap around your clit as he sucks. “That,” you whine, back arching a little until Stiles spreads his fingers over your stomach and presses down, “I also love it when you do that.” 

His laugh vibrates deliciously against all the places he’s trying to devour, and you think it wouldn’t be such a bad way to go—being eaten alive by your gorgeous boyfriend. He pulls back to slip another finger in your pussy, spreading them just enough to burn in the best way, and then he’s prodding at the spot inside you that sends a jolt up your spine—makes your fingers wind in the bedspread, pull on his hair, fly to your mouth when you start to cry a little. It didn’t used to be like this. Sex. Getting fingered, fucked, even eaten out—it never felt like this before him. It’s…overwhelming, sometimes. Most of the time, actually. You keep waiting to get used to it, for the newness, the discovery of it all, to wear off. Hasn’t happened yet. You don’t think it ever will. Certainly not tonight. 

“Good?” Stiles licks his lips, at the glistening corners of his mouth, and you toss your head back—overwhelmed. “Good,” he concludes, and he’s not even smug about it. More like he’s making a note in one of his case files, something to look back on later when he needs it. He’s quick about getting what little remains of your clothes off, and when he crawls on top of you, you’re immensely grateful for it. Skin on skin, nothing quite like it. Quick romps in the jeep, up against alley walls, the sink of the occasional bar bathroom—all fun, but not nearly as satisfying as being completely pressed against his naked body, completely caged in by his large frame. Sappy, maybe, but it feels dirty when he drags the tip of his cock through your folds. When he bumps against your clit, you mewl and dig your nails into his back. He sucks in sharply and buries his face in the crook of your neck, “There’s a condom in th—”

“Forget it,” you whimper, carding your fingers through his hair. It’s a little sweaty where it meets his neck, and it’s so soft, and thick, and perfect, and—he’s stopped breathing against your neck. 

He groans from a place deep in his gut, deeper actually, and his arms shake, “Are you su—”

“Yes,” you nod rapidly and wrap your legs around him, arms too, and your fingers join in on the clinging when they twist in his hair. “Absolutely. 1000%. Please don’t make me say please.”

He lets out a little laugh that stirs the hair framing your face, and he traces your cheekbone, barely touching your skin. Your head swims with the look in his eyes: amber, warmth, and worship, “But you’re just so pretty when you beg.” Not that you’ve ever had to for long. Stiles gives you anything you want if you ask him the right way. If you look at him with big, wet eyes, if you jut out your lower lip just so—wet as well, the little lick of your tongue is part of it; that took him months to figure out—he crumbles. He’s said many times that better men than he have fallen victim to far less beautiful schemes. 

Stiles kisses the pout off your lips and nudges the tip of his nose over yours, grinning like a drunken idiot, “Told’ya, baby. Not a light-year, definitely not a little latex.” His grin slides into a little ‘o’ when you slither your hand between your bodies and grip his cock, sliding the first inch into your cunt, impatient. “F-fuck—fuck-ing hell,” he grunts and takes over for you, squeezing your hip until it starts to hurt a little. You’d say something, but then he’d stop—and you like the way it aches. You like knowing there will be a bruise. He’ll fret over it later, kiss each mottled spot better a million times, and you like that too. You like being taken care of, almost as much as he likes taking care of you. 

When he bottoms out, when his pelvic bone ruts up against you, a long, drawn out whimper spills through your pout. “Yeah? Feels good, baby?” Stiles watches your face closely, brushes away the hair sticking to your forehead, and drops a few kisses on your shut eyelids. You nod, and nod, and nod, until he stops you with another kiss to your lips. He kisses you slowly, presses his tongue against the seam of your lips, and you sigh. The kiss quickly becomes wet and filthy, and you’d be embarrassed by the sound of your tongues sliding together if you could actually hear it. At the moment, all you can hear is his cock sliding in and out of your dripping pussy—and that’s definitely sending a dizzying heat up your neck. You don’t worry about it for long when his hips shift and he starts hitting that spot inside you again. After that, neither of you can hear anything over your squealing. Stiles kisses away the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes and licks his lips, chasing the taste. “Right there, huh?” You babble an incoherent answer, and he strokes your hair and noses at your cheek, “Yeah, right there. I know. It’s okay.” 

Stiles slides his hands under your back and sits up, taking you with him. The new angle is impossibly deep, and you bite down on his shoulder and wind your arms around his neck to keep yourself there. With him. In the moment. “It’s okay, baby. I got you, promise,” he squeezes your hips, and despite his reassurances and the strength of his grip, you know he’s falling apart too. He’s close. You can feel it. His hips stutter a little, change direction, lose their dedicated pace—and it’s perfect because you’re right there with him. It’s been building for a while, probably since he led you by hand to his room, maybe even before that when he smirked at you behind his cup of tequila and (mostly) pineapple juice. 

You cry a little and bite down on your bottom lip, hard. Stiles kisses the sting away, and your eyes screw shut as you start babbling again, “I’m—”

He kisses you again and lifts his hands from your hips to cup your face, thumbing along your bottom lip when he pulls back—not far, just enough to look at your face, shiny with sweat and tears. “I know,” he stills for a moment, pausing the movement of his hips so that he can just feel you pulsing around him for a moment, “me too.” You aren’t sure if you want to hit him or kiss him for stopping, but you don’t have the strength to do either when he starts what must be his final round of thrusts. It has to be—you’re a few seconds away from collapsing or coming, whichever comes first. When Stiles moans your name in your ear, soft and high like he does when he’s right there, and he slides his hand down your stomach to rub firm circles on your clit, you’re happy it’s your orgasm that happens first. Your abs convulse a little as you twitch around him, and you curl in on yourself as much as you can with Stiles in the way. He’s not in the way for long. Growling, he shoves you back against the bed and mumbles, “Where?” after a few sloppy thrusts. 

You mewl as he keeps the pressure on your clit, reach for his wrist and try to pull his hand away, but he’s determined and you’re tired. You twitch and throw your head back, whimpering, “Inside,” before you can think better of it. It’s his fault, you’ll decide later, for prolonging your high with his mean, unforgiving, wonderful thumb. 

He’ll blame you, for feeling so perfect around him—for fluttering, and leaking, and trembling better than…anything he’s ever seen in porn, and he’s watched...a lot of it, so he’s a bit of an expert on the cinematic orgasm. “You’re so fuckin—you,” he shakes his head against your heaving chest and groans, “you’re everything.” And when he finally comes in you, you’re okay with taking the blame for something that feels so good. He manages a few more thrusts, and then he finally lets you pull his hand away from your cunt when he collapses onto his forearms, barely holding himself up from crushing you with his full weight. You’d tell him to roll over, but then he’d be over there and not in you, so you put up with the sweat and heaviness while your head spins. 

“Baby?” Stiles hums noncommittally in response to your soft prodding, and you smirk against the top of his head. All the smugness leaves you when you finally feel the foreign sensation of his cum leaking out of you. Shuddering, you kiss his hair a few times and scratch up and down his back lightly until he’s able to breathe normally. He pushes himself up onto his arms and glances down when he pulls out, staring for a moment at the way your pussy gapes a bit, watching the trickle of cum drip down your folds and onto the bed. He rubs his hand over his jaw and licks his lips, shaking his head—at a loss for words for the first time in his life. Your tongue is a little thick when you fill the void for him, “Next time, towel first.”

He finds it within himself to tear his eyes away from your cunt and gives you a crooked little grin, “Next time?”

You roll your eyes, but your grin is stupid with affection, “Sure, next time. Maybe. If you’re good.” 

It’s a little disgusting, the way he just rolls over and pulls you on top of him with absolutely no regard for the various bodily fluids sticking to your skin, but you forget about the unpleasantness of drying cum and cooling sweat when he kisses you. “I’m always good,” he huffs against your cheek. You shoot him a look, brows arched and eyes narrowed, and he smirks, “Okay, maybe not, but I’m always good for you.”

You nuzzle in a little closer and scoff, but it’s true. Stiles is so good, always—especially for you. “I guess you did manage to woo me. You’re very sexy when you’re talkin’ astrology, you know that?” 

He smiles, wide and happy, and wiggles his brows, “An absolute banger of an ending, right? I don’t think they could chart it in the stars without ruining your pretty face, but that’s probably for the best.” Stiles brushes his fingers over your lips when you let out a little questioning hum and takes your hand, growling playfully as he nibbles at your fingertips, “You’re mine. Nobody’s allowed to see you like this but me—definitely not horny little nerds with their telescopes.” 

You grin and bump your nose against his, “You’re a horny little nerd with a telescope.”

Stiles tips his head with a sly grin, and you already know what he’s going to say—it’s still devastatingly adorable when he whispers, “No, I’m your horny little nerd with a telescope.” 

Adorable enough to make you consider pulling him into the shower with you, and if the heavy-lidded look he’s giving you is anything to go by, you’d say he agrees.

[the-fiction-witch]

A Star

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1504

Y/n stood looking out the castle window towards the bay, her body was tired, her mind was tired, and the crying of baby Orion didn’t seem to be helping very much. She bounced the baby on her hip having sent the wet nurses away, even if she was starting to wonder if that was the best idea but felt it too fast to call them back. In the hope of calming baby Orion, she sang a sweet little tune that seemed to calm the crying baby. Orion was only a few days old and Y/n had become so very protective of him, not wanting the nurses, wet nurses, milkmaids, or even her husband to touch the baby but that had meant she had been awake almost the whole time since Orion’s birth.

"What are you singing?" Aegon asked, he stood by the door a cup of wine in hand after a meeting with his small council, "He likes it. The baby..."

Y/n jumped and instinctively pulled baby Orion to her chest, she stopped her song and held her breath,she looks to him in the doorway of their chambers and quickly looked to the floor, "I uh I suppose so, I'll stop if-"

He stood there for a moment, and his gaze met her. He saw the fear in her eyes, and the baby in her arms, he felt guilty that his wife feared him so, but it was not like he hadn’t given her good reason to. He slowly approached, placing a hand in Orion's soft Targaryen hair, gently caressing it trying to show her that he cared for their child and wasn’t a threat to them, "No... keep singing."

"Are you sure I don't want to bother you, your grace…"

He nodded, his eyes fixated on Orion. "It calms him. Besides... I like hearing you sing..."

She nodded and continued even if her voice was low and often tripped on her words, her eyes often meeting Aegon’s, as she bounced baby Orion a little in her arms soothing him with her song,

Aegon's gaze never left Orion, who appeared to almost fall asleep in her arms. Aegon approached even closer, standing right beside her and admiring Orion's tiny features. It seemed… since Orion’s birth it was as if the baby's presence began to change something in Aegon, Perhaps seeing his child really had affected him or perhaps he for the first time truly understood the pain and suffering he had caused for his bride. He gently touched Orion's cheek, feeling his soft skin. "You named him after the Star, didn't you...?"

she nodded "I uhh .. I can change it if you'd -"

He shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face as he gently caressed Orion's cheek. "No, it's an apt name. He's a star among us, after all. My son." Aegon's expression was different now, softer. For a moment, he didn't look like the troubled prince but rather a devoted father

"I thought it was a nice name, and Orion Targaryen sounds like a nice name for a prince"

"Yes, indeed..." Aegon agreed, still fascinated by Orion's tiny facial features. The baby's skin felt like silk under his fingers, and the innocent expression on Orion's face as he struggled to keep his eyes open mesmerized the prince. He couldn't believe this baby was his flesh and blood. "I'll hold him for a while. You go, take some rest."

She looked fearful when he took the baby, frightened of what could happen. She shook her head and clutched the baby to her chest,

“Please Y/n, you need to rest I promise you I will be careful,” he said setting down his wine taking her cheek in his hand and pressing his forehead to hers, “Trust me, as a king, as a husband, as his father…”

Part of her didn't completely trust Aegon. But she nodded and slowly handed baby Orion over, the moment the baby left her arms she began to pick at her nails and breathe deeply her lips trembling,

Aegon carefully cradled Orion in his arms, his large but surprisingly gentle hands holding the baby securely. He rocked Orion gently and spoke softly. “Hello little prince, feels like forever since I held you last,” He cooed, The baby seemed to almost immediately settle and relax against Aegon's chest. Aegon looked as if he would hold Orion all night this way, staring intently at his own son with a mix of pride and love in his eyes. "Are you alright?" he suddenly asked her, not taking his eyes off the baby.

"I ... I don't know"

Aegon placed Orion into his crib and then pulled her down and sat beside her by the fire. He could see the worry and fear on her face. "What's wrong?" he asked in a soft tone, gently grasping her hand in his. He seemed genuinely worried about her well-being rather than angry.

"I feel rather ... Useless now," she said "we married. I gave you a son. I suddenly feel in danger. Like I could be ... Washed out with the tide,"

Aegon understands her concerns. He gently squeezed her hand. "You are not useless. You have given me a gift beyond measure. A son. That is something no one can take from you. You are the mother of my child, the mother of a prince." He gently lifted her chin, making her look into his eyes. "You are my wife, and I won."

"won?"

Aegon nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "I won you. From the very first day I met you, all I thought was how I can win you. The girl who seemed so indifferent and reserved, it drove me mad that I could not win you easily." He brushed his fingers gently across her cheek and continued. "But I won. You bear my child, my heir. You are bonded to me forever now."

"I suppose that's true... I'm sure soon you will be wanting your spare?"

Aegon smirked slightly, then gently brushed his hand over the top of her head, caressing her hair. "Yes… but that's something we'll talk about soon." He then sighed slightly as he looked into her eyes. "But for now, I think you need to rest. You're still recovering from childbirth. You went through a lot."

"I suppose I did ..." She said trying to belittle her own work

Aegon shook his head, "No. Don't you dare downplay what you went through? Bringing a new life into the world is no small task. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain you experienced, but I know it's nothing to look down upon." He looked at her with genuine admiration and concern. "I want you to take care of yourself. Rest, eat properly, and heal. You deserve it."

"as you command your grace" she nodded

He gently took her hand again and lifted it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the back of her hand. "Good. Now, rest well." He placed her hand gently back on her lap and stood up, walking to Orion's crib and smiling down at the sleeping baby. "And don't worry about Orion. I'll care for him and let you rest peacefully."

she nodded and got up nervously heading towards the bed chamber but she stopped and turned back, "don't let him sleep on his stomach, your grace"

Aegon raised his eyebrow and turned towards her. "Oh? Is there a specific reason?" He knew next to nothing about infants, but he was willing to listen carefully to her advice.

"he can smother himself in his pillow"

Aegon blinked, surprised by the explanation. "Ah! I hadn't thought of that. Thank you for the advice." He moved closer to the crib and gently adjusted Orion, rolling him onto his side rather than his stomach. He then turned back to her and smiled gently. "Is this better?"

"yes, think of babies as ... Little drunk people, anything you'd be worried about when leaving a drunk friend worry about a baby doing," she nodded "Wake me at the hour of the wolf, he will need to feed then"

Aegon raised an eyebrow upon hearing the analogy. "Little drunk people? Interesting way to put it. Reminds me of myself in a way." He then nodded and gave her a reassuring look. "I'll wake you as promised. We'll take care of him and keep him safe." Aegon returned to her side, leaning down to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Now sleep. You've earned it."

she nodded and went into the bedroom keeping the door open in case the baby was to cry and not expecting Aegon to deal with it,

Aegon watched as she went into the bedroom, his gaze lingering on the door for a moment, once he knew Y/n was sleeping he went over and closed the door quietly so he could get a good sleep before turning his attention back to Orion. He gently brushed his fingers against the baby's soft cheek one more time and whispered softly. "Sleep well, my son." With that, he settled into his chair nearby, ready to watch over the baby until the hour of the wolf came.

[candycandy00]

Character: Sukuna

Theme: Pirate Ship

Spice: NSFW (I wanna SMELL the smut)

Mood: Dark with flickers of ligt

Kinks: Beautiful shy virgin reader, size difference, a bit of pain, bondage, a bit of spanking, a sprinkle of non-con

Please and Thank you

The Maiden’s Voyage - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Sukuna as a Pirate Captain. Noncon/Rape! Very rough sex! Bondage. Violence. Blood. Mentions of suicide. Sukuna is a cruel, sadistic monster here! You’ve been warned! 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! There will be two (possibly three) parts because I got really attached to this idea and it was getting too long. Any feedback, comments, reblogs, etc. will make my day sunny and bright! 💖 Dividers by @benkeibear!

Relentless cannon fire from above leaves your ears ringing as you cower below deck with the other passengers. This was supposed to be an uneventful trip to the island, where you intended to take a job as a maid for a rich noble. The voyage should have lasted four days, but two days in, this happens. 

This being a pirate attack. The crew of the ship you’re on commanded all the passengers to hide below deck while they tried to outrun the pirate ship that was rapidly approaching, last you saw. In the dark of night, the pitch black sails of the massive ship were terrifying in the flashes of light from the cannons. 

Now you can only tremble as you and the others cling to each other, listening to the sounds of men shouting and cursing above. Cannon fire gives way to rifle and pistol fire, and that can only mean one thing: the pirates have boarded. 

A fight breaks out. You can hear bodies falling, people screaming. The woman beside you is crying. “It’ll be alright,” you tell her, trying to force a smile onto your face. “They might just take our money and belongings and leave.” It certainly isn’t unheard of. 

She gives you a pitying stare. “They’ll kill us all. Well, maybe not you, with your looks. But you’ll probably wish you were dead.”

You’re not stupid. You know how this will most likely play out. But you were trying to comfort her, to give her a little bit of hope. You wish she’d done the same for you. Maybe then your hands would stop shaking. 

The door leading up to the deck is suddenly ripped open, making several passengers scream in alarm. Two unfamiliar men with guns climb down.

“All of you, get up there,” one of them says, waving his rifle around and pointing toward the deck. 

Like lambs marching off to be slaughtered, you and the other passengers grimly climb the rickety wooden steps to reach the deck. What you find is a nightmare come to life. 

Bodies litter the whole ship. Blood has splattered everywhere. The captain of your vessel is being held by two brawny pirates, their swords at his throat. He’s covered in bloody gashes and has a black eye, his regal looking coat ripped and dirty. 

Many of the pirates are holding torches, so many that the deck is well lit. You look around in stunned silence, your eyes shifting from one horror show to the next until you and the rest of the passengers are all lined up single file. Then several pirates step behind the line and begin tying everyone’s wrists behind their backs. The man tying yours gropes your ass through your dress, making you squirm. 

Once everyone is tied up, one of the pirates yells out, “All ready for you, Capn’!” 

Another man, standing close to the passengers, says, “Look lively! Captain Sukuna’s boarding the ship!”

At the sound of the captain’s name, you feel your heart sink down your body, settling somewhere in your feet. Some of your fellow passengers cry out in despair. One woman, in a panic, breaks the line. She runs straight to the side of the ship and throws herself overboard. You understand why she did it. 

Captain Ryomen Sukuna is notorious for his cruelty, for his complete lack of mercy when it comes to women, whom he treats just as (if not more) brutally as he does men. You’re still haunted by stories you’ve heard about the bodies found on ships he’s plundered. Women and men alike stripped and skewered, cut into chunks, ripped apart. There were even rumors that he ate some of his victims! 

Naturally, you’ve never seen him before. His wanted posters only have his name and a vague description: a tall, muscular man with black tattoos all over his body. That could describe a lot of pirates. 

But now, you’re about to get a crystal clear image of him. You hear heavy footsteps walking across the deck from behind you, and then he finally steps around the line of passengers and comes into view. 

The words “tall” and “muscular” do not do him justice. He’s huge, with broad shoulders and a chiseled torso visible beneath the white shirt unbuttoned to his waist. You can also see the lines of black tattoos, on his face and chest, drawing your eye toward his toned abdomen. He has pink hair, slicked back away from his face, and intense red eyes. 

Something about his appearance captivates you, makes it impossible for you to tear your eyes away. He’s objectively handsome, in a rugged, masculine way. But he’s also terrifying. You can almost feel the bloodlust radiating off him. 

He begins walking down the line, stopping in front of a pretty young woman to look her over. “This one,” he says, and another pirate pulls her out of the line, dragging her off to the side to wait. Sukuna continues, occasionally pausing to regard a woman. “This one,” he says again, and another lady is dragged over to stand beside the first one. 

When he reaches you, he stops and faces you, his eyes roaming up and down your form. Your heart is racing, your breaths coming fast and shallow. There’s a hunger in his expression as his gaze burns into you, lingering on your heaving chest. “This one,” he says, red eyes glinting in the light of the torches, a grin on his face. 

A pirate pulls you from the line and shoves you over to stand with the other two women as Sukuna continues his walk. In the end, you and six other women are chosen. You all huddle together, still bound, while Sukuna turns to his crew. “Take care of the rest!”

At those words, a frenzy of violence begins. You can only watch in horror as the rest of the passengers are stripped of all clothing and belongings, the women screaming at the indignity, and then systematically murdered by the pirates. Most are stabbed with swords or daggers, some have their throats slit, and a few are simply thrown overboard. 

The woman you spoke to below deck cries out as a pirate stabs her repeatedly in the stomach. You close your eyes, no longer able to bear the sight of so much spilled blood. 

It’s almost as if you’re in a daze as you and the other six women are taken over to Sukuna’s ship. There’s no fight in you, no hope. Your arms are tied behind you and you’re totally surrounded by large, armed pirates. There’s no chance of escape. You can guess why you seven were chosen, and you’re starting to wonder if you should throw yourself overboard like the desperate woman you saw earlier. Death by drowning would be preferable to the fate that awaits you. 

Sukuna walks over to the group of terrified women and points directly at you. “Take her to my quarters. You men can share the others.”

The men cheer and the women scream. You look over at Sukuna, and your eyes meet his. Again, he gives you a grin, and the look on his face says it all: this man is going to enjoy destroying you. 

You’re dragged down a small set of stairs and through a heavy wooden door. You find yourself in a lavish cabin, full of rich furnishings like a glossy wooden dresser and deep red velvet blankets on a huge bed. There are lanterns lit all around the room, giving it an opulent atmosphere. It smells of fresh wood and sea breeze and some sort of incense. 

You only have a few minutes alone before the door swings open and the captain walks in. He closes the door behind him, sealing your fate, then shrugs off his long black coat. He’s left in black leather pants that fit him a little too well and the thin white shirt that’s mostly unbuttoned. You’ve never seen a man with such a well built body before, and it almost distracts you from the terror you feel at being alone in a room with this monster. 

He looks at you, eyes freely drinking in your entire body. “I’m sure you know what’s going to happen to you,” he says, standing a few feet away, “but just in case you’re stupid, I’ll make it clear. We’ve got a two week voyage ahead of us, and you’re going to be my entertainment. If you don’t please me, I’ll toss you to the crew to be passed around until you die.”

You shiver, tears welling up in your eyes. How are you supposed to keep him pleased? You’ve never even touched a man in a sexual way before. 

He steps closer, and you step further back, shying away from him. He looks slightly annoyed. “Did you understand what I said, woman?”

You sniffle, trying to hold back your tears. With your hands behind your back, you can’t even wipe your eyes. You’ve truly never been so helpless. “I… I understand,” you finally say, afraid of angering him. “It’s just… I’ve never…”

His eyes seem to glow with excitement. “Oh? An innocent maiden? In my quarters? You’re like a baby lamb that’s been thrown to the wolves.” He laughs and moves closer. You’re frozen to the spot, remembering his annoyed expression when you stepped back before. When he’s right in front of you, you’re again struck by just how tall he is. He completely dwarfs you. This close, you can feel his body heat, can smell the heady mix of blood and sea water on his skin. 

You’re terrified. You want nothing more than to flee, even though you have no idea where you could possibly flee to. But your eyes keep being drawn to those tattoos trailing down his torso, disappearing below his belt. “Please,” you say in a small quivering voice, “if only the first time… please don’t hurt me.”

That frightening grin spreads over his mouth again as one large hand moves up to touch your teary face. “My poor little maiden, I’m going to hurt you. And I’m going to enjoy hurting you.”

You draw in quick shuddering breaths as tears streak your face, drizzling over his fingers, your eyes large and glassy as you stare up at him. 

His hand moves down to your neck as his other hand rests on your shoulder. “I’m going to thoroughly break you, split you in two on my cock, make you scream until your throat is raw and bloody. Well, more than just your throat will be raw and bloody.”

Your body is shaking with held back sobs. How could he be so cruel? But you don’t have time to think more on it, because his hands are suddenly on the front of your dress. In one savage motion, he rips it completely open with his bare hands, totally exposing you down to your waist. 

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

Sukuna laughs as the sweet little maiden shrieks and draws back away from him, trying to turn her body to hide her nakedness. With her arms bound, she can’t even try to cover herself. He grabs her shoulder and forces her to face him, drinking in the sight of her bare, heaving breasts. It’s been a while since he’s had a woman so shapely, so perfectly formed to his taste. He can’t wait to see the rest of her. 

Wasting no time, he tears the rest of her dress off, as well as her thin undergarments. She’s left cowering before him, trembling, trying to clamp her legs shut. How adorable. 

Ah, such a lovely, delicate little flower, just ripe enough for him to pluck. But he doesn’t just want to pluck her. He wants to take this beautiful, tender blossom and grind it into powder. 

With one hand he grips her chin and lifts her face up, forcing her to look at him. Nothing arouses him more than a pretty face wet with tears, terrified eyes peering up at him, quivering lips unable to even form words. 

The thought of destroying this pure, innocent creature has him rock hard. 

His hand moves to the side of her face, his thumb tracing over her plump lips. Her eyes shift down, and he realizes this has happened multiple times since he entered the room. What does she keep looking at? What could be so distracting in a moment like this? He follows her gaze, and it leads to his chest, the tattoos clearly visible beneath his unbuttoned shirt. 

Is she… staring at his body? A virgin that’s about to be violated is distracted by his tattoos? Oh, this is delicious! 

He releases his hold on her and steps back, then pulls off his shirt and tosses it aside. As he suspected, her eyes widen as they roam over the black ink lining his torso. Her lips part and the fear on her face gradually shifts to something else. 

“See something that interests you?” he asks, smirking at her. 

She shakes her head, looking embarrassed. “N-no!”

His hands move to his belt, and she watches as he unbuckles it, then opens his pants. He hears her breath hitch slightly when she sees that the tattoos continue down, and when he pulls his fully erect cock out, she lets out a small scream. 

Sukuna grins to himself. He’s certainly used to women screaming when they see it for the first time. He’s very aware of the fact that his cock is unusually large. To her virgin eyes, it probably looks like a beast ready to attack her. 

The fear has returned to her face, and it makes him want to ravage her immediately. He looks at her lovely mouth, at her lips as soft as rose petals, and pushes her down to her knees in front of him. 

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

You’re so scared you can’t even speak as Captain Sukuna forces you to your knees, his monstrously huge rod right in front of your face. It terrifies you, but even it has two black lines tattooed around the base of it, demanding your attention. 

“Open your mouth,” he commands, and you hesitantly obey. 

The tip of his meaty cock touches your tongue. “If you bite,” he says, staring down into your eyes, “I’ll rip every tooth out of your head and then fill your bloody mouth with my cum. Do you understand?”

You’re afraid to nod your head, afraid to move at all, so you murmur out, “Mmhmm.”

That’s all he needs to hear before he shoves himself into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you gag and choke. He pulls out slightly, then shoves in again, going partially down your now sore throat. He repeats this, in and out, mercilessly fucking your mouth as tears flood your eyes. You barely get a chance to breathe when he pulls back, and at some point he grips your hair, holding your head steady.

“You’re not trying to please me at all,” he says, frowning down at you. “Use your tongue, your lips, your whole mouth. I’m not stopping until you make me cum.”

Fresh tears sting your eyes. This torment will keep going? You look up at him pleadingly, hoping he’ll have mercy on you. He has to know you’ve never done this before. But he just keeps thrusting ruthlessly into your throat. 

When he pulls back again, you press your lips tightly around his shaft, slowing his motion. This gives you the chance to lap at his tip with your tongue. You taste a salty, sticky fluid, and feel it smear around the inside of your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens, and you whimper around his cock as he continues thrusting, just a little slower so that he can rub your tongue with his leaking tip. 

Your jaw is aching, your throat raw, but you keep your tongue moving, trying your best to please him. It feels like it goes on forever before he finally pulls out most of the way, leaving only the tip inside. Then he shoots his hot, gooey load onto your tongue, filling your mouth. Your first instinct is to spit it out, you’re already gagging after all. But you know that would anger him, so you force it down, letting the thick gobs slide down your throat. 

When done, he finally removes his cock from your mouth, leaving you panting for air, your lips bruised and trembling. You look up to find him grinning down at you. “So?” He asks, his tone mocking. “Ready for me to shove this into that little virgin pussy of yours?”

“No, please! You’ll break me!” you cry, trying to scurry away from him.

He grabs one of your bound arms and jerks you to your feet, not caring how much he hurts you. He pulls you to him, forcing your bare body against his. He’s so very firm, so rock solid. His appearance is so alluring to you, his self assured attitude so attractive, if you had met him under different circumstances, you would have slept with him willingly. 

“I’m going to shatter you,” he says, crimson eyes shimmering, “tear you apart, crush you into dust. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you alive until I’ve had my fill of you.”

You shudder in his arms, your eyes still full of tears. He steps toward his bed, dragging you with him by the arm. He throws you onto it, on your back. With your hands still tied behind you, the position is highly uncomfortable. He pulls off his pants, kicking them aside and standing beside the bed for a moment, giving you a clear view of how the black lines circle his muscular thighs. Once again, they almost distract you from your terror. 

But it returns full force when he climbs onto the bed and shoves your quivering legs apart. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head to the side, feeling your whole body heat up with embarrassment. No man has looked upon you this way before. 

“It’s no fun fucking sandpaper,” he tells you. “So let’s get this pussy wet.”

Your eyes snap open in alarm when you feel his large, warm hands on your spread open inner thighs, rubbing upward. His thumbs reach your soft folds and part your flesh, the cool air of the room hitting your most private place. You hear him chuckle, and you glance at his face. He’s smiling so smugly. “Are you sure you’re a virgin? You’re already dripping.”

You feel shame immediately fall over you. In a panic, you try to rise up. “What? No! I’m not! I-“

Suddenly his thumb rubs over your clit, and you forget how to form words. You inhale a sharp breath, trying vainly to scoot away from his touch. He keeps rubbing, and you can feel your own wetness smearing around. Your body has betrayed you.  

Humiliated, you close your eyes again, wishing you could at least wipe your tears. The motion of his thumb intensifies, his nail scraping over your delicate nub, and your body jerks. You’ve never felt this way before, never felt such electric pleasure. 

You hear his smooth voice. “Already a whore for me before I even make you my woman.”

A pitiful sob escapes you. Reflexively, your legs try to close, but he’s between them, holding them far apart. The shameful pleasure builds and builds, your body shaking, and just when it feels like something is about to break loose, he suddenly stops. 

You lie there panting, not knowing if you’re thankful or disappointed that he moved his hand away.  But then his hands slide under your hips, and pull your lower body into his lap. You can feel the weight of his heavy cock on your pussy, can feel its heat. 

He moves it so that it’s pointing directly at your entrance. You rise up as best you can to look him in the eyes. “Please… don’t!”

But he grins again, enjoying your fear, your desperation. You were foolish to think this monster has any mercy within him. He doesn’t give you a chance to prepare, even to take a deep breath, before he ruthlessly shoves his entire cock inside you. 

You scream, the pain blinding as he tears into you, slamming into your cervix on the first thrust. It feels like he’s ripping you apart. You feel something warm and wet coming out of you, and realize it must be blood. At that moment, you genuinely fear he’s going to kill you. 

He quickly begins moving, thrusting in and out, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise them. You look at his face, at the pleasure evident in his eyes, and it horrifies you. Turning your face to the side, you try to block it all out, his cock invading your body, his hands upon you, his toned, tattooed body hovering over yours. 

All you can do is whimper and cry as he takes you, trying your best to hold back your sobs so that he doesn’t enjoy this even more. Your body feels like it’s on fire, but you’re completely helpless to stop him. 

“Hey,” you hear him say, his fingers squeezing your hip harshly, “don’t fade out. Stay focused. You’re under me right now, my cock is inside you.”

This cruel beast won’t even allow you the luxury of blocking this all out! He’s keeping you in the moment, making sure you’re aware of everything that’s happening. 

One of his hands moves down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit. Your body spasms with pleasure as he rubs circles into it, bringing you back to the edge you were on earlier. 

You shake your head. “No, please… stop!”

He ignores your pleas, rubbing relentlessly, making your breath hitch and your legs tremble. You look down, your eyes drawn to the way his muscles flex and move beneath his skin, the way his strong hands hold you, and you can’t resist any longer. 

The pleasure explodes within you, spreading from your core out to the ends of your limbs, leaving you gasping. Above you, Sukuna laughs. 

“A virgin cumming while being raped? I made an excellent choice tonight!”

You try to ignore his cruel taunts, just feeling the pleasure of your orgasm. It’s the only thing dulling the pain. Because Sukuna keeps fucking you, hard and rough, until your pleasure fades and you finally feel him stiffen inside you. He presses in deep enough to make you see stars, and then you feel his hot cum filling your womb. 

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

Sukuna eventually pulls out of the maiden, leaving her sprawled out in his bed, too exhausted and sore to even close her legs. She pants, her lovely breasts heaving, as blood and cum leak out of her. She’s crying softly, turning her face away from him. 

She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on, like a rare jewel. So soft and fragile, it only makes him want to defile her even more, to ruin her even more. 

Fortunately for her, that was the best fuck he’s had in years. The way her pussy clenched his cock when she came, the way her body trembled against him… it was exquisite.  He’ll definitely keep her alive for a while longer. 

[a-hazbin-reader]

Oooo Vox! How about Vox with a unnaturally unlucky SO? And it's always been like that and how they died as well!

(Also calling Vox their lucky charm and how he's the most luck they ever had and needed)

Man Y/N really is unlucky landing Vox as a S/O-

I'M JOKING I LOVE THIS

Vox X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Second hand embarrassment for Y/N, Valentino being harmed

Description: ☝️⬆️

Not Y/N accidentally getting placed in Hell because of some unlucky mix up-

When you first told Vox you were unlucky, he didn't really believe you and just thought you were being dramatic

And sure you've had a few bad luck incidents that he's seen but nothing that really stands out to him

It's not until he's in a relationship with you that he realizes you weren't fucking joking around when you said it

You really are unlucky

In just a day you've somehow managed to trip and ruin one of Velvette's outfits and completely disfigure her model

You caught Valentino's wings on fire while trying to make a sandwich and when you went to put it out you made it worse by throwing oil on him

Good

You broke four of Vox's cameras, five of his stage lights and broke his chair all while he was live

And all that doesn't even begin to cover the mayhem you caused just last week

Somehow you keep running into Alastor and that's a whole headache in itself

You stress him out so much that if he had hair it would be white and falling out of his head

But Vox will be damned if you aren't just the most precious thing in his life, you're too adorable to get rid of

No matter how much trouble you are to keep

You're so fucking adorable Vox isn't letting you go

Whenever he starts to feel himself getting irritated with you, he just looks at your apologetic face and melts

"Sorry Vox...I guess I just need to stick closer to my lucky charm next time, huh?"

Fuck he loves you

"Just-get over here and hold still!"

Keeps you in his lap because it's the only way to keep you from causing trouble with your horrible bad luck

Not at all because he loves having you close and because his heart skips a few beats when you lean into him or because you smell so perfect-

"Vox? Your screen is all hot and glitchy...are you alright?"

He's fine, babe

Honestly can't get enough of you and genuinely believes he can keep your unlucky nature at bay if he keeps you with him at all times

You managed to trip and toss a dozen fragile, expensive things into the air???

Don't worry, Vox is scrambling to catch them all in a hilariously cartoonish manner

You got lost and now Alastor is contacting him and telling Vox to come get his curse out of Alastor's hotel??

Vox will be there and won't even start a fight, the hotel has been beaten up enough by you and your bad luck as it is

He's kinda proud of you for that one tho

He can't even be mad, it's so obvious that some supernatural force is out to get you

There's no way you're just naturally this unlucky

And he can't just dump you, no matter what Valentino says, fuck him

If he dumps you then you'll be at the mercy of your unluck and nobody will be around to save you

And Vox wants to be the one who saves you, he wants you to depend on him more than anything else

Whenever he sees the grateful look on your face after he bails you out of trouble he's reminded of how much he loves you all over again

Can't resist the urge to take you into his arms and rub his face screen on you, no he won't put you down

With him around to clean up your messes, maybe he really is your good luck charm

Vox really starts to believe it

But then your bad luck strikes again and his migraine is back

Good luck charm his ass

I REALLY REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE 💗

[bunnyscrypt]

“a devouring hunger, a complete, violent passion, like a storm.”

pairing. college au - jason todd x reader

based loosely off the scene from may (2002). disclaimer: this story is based in a separate universe to my upcoming self indulgent college au!jason todd universe.

♱ synopsis: . jason todd is a transfer student. he's tall, he’s big, and he has gorgeous hands. he hangs with the football crowd despite not playing the sport himself, you keep your distance however. he’s infatuated with you though. you find him…. intriguing. 


♱ cw: reader is very gothic and black girl coded but no descriptors (anyone can read), fluff, college!au, smut ♡


you were the one that told jason it was best that you stayed away from each other. you just didn’t trust him, not with the crowd he hung around, but he seemed sweet and sincere - sad eyes that bore in to yours as you turned him down. almost feeling bad until the eyes of his friends watching made you walk up away leaving him looking dejected. oh well.

you’d still sneak glances at him every now and then. admiring the outline of his profile, the hook of his nose. the flex of his arms at the slightest movements. oh and his hands - the thought of them sending your brain in to a tizzy. you’d wonder how they’d feel against your skin.

jason was upfront with his fixation on you. long glances, not caring if he got caught. asking around about you, ignoring all the warnings from his friends about how weird you are. taking any chance to talk to and be near you.

it’s what put him on your radar and made you suspicious, but you will admit he is handsome and he was always so sweet with you. 

better to be safe than sorry though. 

the library smells like cinnamon, wood, marijuana, and hand sanitizer

you sat in a love seat, reading as you listened to the sound of pages turning and pens writing, eyes occasionally darting towards the sleeping boy sitting at the table across the isle. head on his arm as his hand hangs in the air. you try to focus on your book, but again you glance back up at jason’s hand.

it just looks so inviting.

chewing on your bottom lip, contemplating.

your body shakes as you slowly get up, dropping your book on the seat. moving towards him with anxious breath. eyes wide, like a predator hunting its prey.

kneeling besides him, your eyes dart over his large frame, stopping at his hand as you observe it in fascination. your own itching to hold his. one more look at his face- he breathes slowly, soft snores leaving his lips.

inching your head closer to his hand, you lift his fingers with your cheek. oh his skin is so soft. his stillness, gives you the courage to keep going. unaware of the audience that watches you.

eyes fluttering shut as you press your cheek further into his palm- feelings of peace and comfort filling you. his hand cups your cheek. a perfect fit. letting out a sigh of content, you feel his fingers twitch.

pause.

“hello?”

your eyes dart open, he starts to lift his head and you back away. standing up quick, not daring to move any further. jason rubs his eyes with a sniff before seeing you in front of him like a frightened deer.

before he can say anything! you swiftly walk away, almost tripping in the process while jason watches with confused and concerned eyes, following as you leave.

“i told you she was a freak, man.” his friend appears by his side, shoving his phone into his face to show him the footage of your actions.

his head darts back to where you once stood, thumb subconsciously rubbing his now warm palm.

night falls and you're laying in bed — ignoring the movie playing on your laptop as you think about jasons hand. your fingers grazing where his was.

reminiscing on his past interactions with you. the lingering looks and soft touches. kind smiles and rambling words even if you never said anything back and when you did it was in a blunt and flat tone. he just enjoyed your presence.

you come to the realization that you liked it. you liked him. you liked holding his attention and you desire him carnally.

a knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts — thinking its just your roommate who forgot her key.

jason greets you at the door, donning a band muscle tee that makes his arms look good.

“hey.”

“what are you doing here?”

“can we talk?”

sitting on the edge of your bed side by side— the silence is comfortable. to you that is. jason doesn't know where to start, his brain going a mile a minute trying to figure out where to start but to his surprise you beat him to it.

“you think im weird.”

it wasn't a question and he glances at you to see you're already looking at him. his gaze is a soft one as he looks in to your intense yet curious one.

“no, i know you're weird.” a small smile graces his lips. your eyes flicking down to his hands.

his elbow bumps yours, “but hey, so what i like weird.”

you meet his gaze again, his going from your eyes to your lips.

“i really want to kiss you.” his voice dropped into a whipser.

“is that all you want to do?” your question makes his eyebrows raise, mouth opening a bit.

grabbing his hand, you place kisses along his thumb to his wrist as you place it on your cheek, eyes never leaving his.

thats how jason wound up on his back, staring into your eyes as you rolled your hips. grunts and moans leaving his plump lips.

jason todd was a loud lover.

sloppily sucking on his fingers while he used his free hand to knead and grip at your tits and hip.

"so good. you feel so good around me - im gonna make you all mine." jasons brows furrow, watching the spit trail down your chin and his wrist.

he shudders as you gyrate your hips faster, “r-right after i take you on a real date.”

he moans loudly, bucking his hips up into you. your clit grinding against his happy trail. breathless moans escape past your lips.

"'m yours, jay.” you whimper, your sticky walls throbbing around him.

"oh my god" he groans. reaching behind your neck to pull you down against him to fuck you harder. hips slamming into you with desperation.

you pant like a puppy, biting into his shoulder hard enough to make him hiss. the bed knocking against the headboard as he pummeled against your g-spot.

"m'cumming!”

he keeps the pace as you cum with a load groan- body trembling on top of his as he pulls out to jerk against your ass.

catching your breath, you pick your head up to stare at his face — eyes closed with droplets of sweat on his forehead, licking his lip as he regains his composure. he's so pretty.

you trace your finger over nose to his lips making him open his eyes. “hi gorgeous," a smile tugs at his lips.

"you okay?" his fingers tenderly graze your cheek.

"mhm" you pause as you take in his gestures. the softness in his eyes. "can we go on our real date tomorrow?”

he smirks, letting out a low chuckle. "yeah, that's perfect for me”

[buckyalpine]

The wait way universe. The one where they get married.

Ohh god it is perfect.

Please say you will write more of this?

I am begging you.

Need more of the baby.

And all the group together having fun family nights.

Another baby maybe? ;)

Aunts and uncles fighting to hold the baby.

Bucky and the reader being told the baby moved the hammer and thor really presenting him with a mini hammer?

Also I love love love love love uncle Tony’s nickname for the baby. Mini terminator love it.

Happy squealing baby is so cute.

I just love it. So much.

I will beg for more. I will. I love it. I love your writing. I love how you write the characters.

Oh god I would kill to see protective avengers. Maybe someone takes the reader and the baby, oh and even more so the reader is pregnant. :0 dun dun dun…. Protective angry Bucky, Steve, Tony,Sam ,Nat, Wanda, Bruce etc

OKAY YES. I'm here for PROTECTIVE AVENGERS OVER ALL THE BABY BUCKIES AND HIS ANGEL. You can read this piece as a stand alone. I added the links for other parts if you want to read it but you don't have to. We're all here for what happens when you mess with Bucky's family.

Wait, what?

Wait, what? 2

I do (again) Wait, what? 3

Wait, what? More Babies?

Competitive God Fathers

-

You smiled to yourself, carefully adding the last piece of tape to Bucky's gift, tying a perfect bow around the wrapped box before hiding it in the closet. Bucky was due to come back soon and while you missed him like crazy, his absence made it easier for you to get his surprise together. Over the last few weeks, you'd felt more tired than usual along with feeling tender and crampy. One trip to the pharmacy, a pregnancy test and a positive result later, you'd bought a custom onesie with Baby Barnes Jr #4 printed on the front.

You hoped Bucky would enjoy the surprise you were growing in your belly, especially considering how often he kept insisting he wanted just one more, adding to your growing family with Steve Jr who had just turned 5 and your 3 year old twins Samantha and Nathaniel. You hid the present under the bed before going to the playroom to tuck your littles ones into bed, the three of them unusually quiet compared to their usual mischief.

"C'mon munchkins" You smiled at the sight before you with Stevie sprawled on a large bean bag, his brother and sister on tucked on either side, their big brother reading to them while they intently looked at the pictures. "Bed time for you babies"

"Will daddy be home soon?" Samantha asked with a pout, a complete daddy's girl just like you, tucking her face into your neck as you scooped her up along with Nathaniel while Steve followed promptly behind.

"Of course bub, he'll be here first thing in the morning" You assured her, kissing her forehead before tucking her into bed followed by the other little one. "Good night loves" You turned off the lights before going back to your room where you knew Stevie was waiting with his favorite book, ready for a bedtime story. It was a special bonding time you always made sure to have with him, not wanting you first baby boy to feel like he was no longer one of your favorites after the twins were born.

"What did you pick tonight baby" You got under the covers, fluffing the pillows and propping them up while Stevie snuggled up beside you, plopping a book about science onto your lap. You chuckled at the nerdy side he'd gotten from his dad, reading through scientific discoveries that were made in the last century and theories that were still being tested. He listened with wide eyes until they grew heavy, eventually falling asleep on your lap, not having the slightest clue you'd carried him to bed and tucked him in with a kiss to his cheek. "Sleep tight my sweet boy"

You slipped back under the covers, grabbing a book for yourself while occasionally running your hands over your belly, soaking in the quiet night before the team arrived after their latest mission.

It wasn't often that the compound was empty; few missions required all hands on deck but this was one of them. You'd received a message from FRIDAY informing you the jet would be landing in a few hours and that no medical assistance would be required because no one had sustained major injures. It was the sole reason you were able to relax so easily, happy waiting for your husbands arrival so you could tell him the good news.

You settled comfortably under the covers until a faint sound from the common room pulled you from your book again. FRIDAY would have alerted you if the jet was approaching and you would've definitely heard the sound of the engine approaching anyway.

But was still eerily quiet.

Then you heard something again.

You were sure it was nothing but you pressed the button under the bedside table that locked and secured the rooms of the little ones just to be safe. Tony had added additional security for their rooms in case of emergencies, with 4 different operating systems working at once. Absolutely nothing would happen to his godchildren under his roof.

It was probably nothing.

Still.

You grabbed the knife you kept hidden behind the headboard, tucking in under the waistband of you sleep shorts before making your way down, reprimanding yourself for being paranoid over what was probably just sounds of the plumbing and vents creaking in the middle of the night.

The halls were clear, easing some of your nerves as you continued to the common room where you heard the sound. The hairs on your neck stood up when you saw the glow of the kitchen light turned on, grabbing your knife, only to find one of the new agents sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on a coffee.

"Annabeth?" Your brows were knitted together, discreetly slipping the knife away, wondering how she'd gotten into the main floor of the compound when it was restricted to others after a certain time.

"Hey y/n" She gave you a sleepy smile while you watched her warily, "Couldn't sleep. Hope you don't mind, just wanted to grab a mug before heading back to trainee wing"

"Yeah, its fine" You spoke slowly, something still not sitting right with you though you didn't show it.

"How come you're still up, waiting for Sergeant Barnes?" There was something sinister in the sweetness of her voice, cocking her head while you hummed in response, stomach churning. "You're both so cute together you know. It's nice to see how his life has come together after all he's been through as the asset"

"Excuse me?" Your eyes grew wide, heart hammering against your chest, it was rare for anyone to refer to Bucky as the asset. Most referred to him as the winter soldier, even soldat, only those deep in Hdyra had called him-

"We want our asset back" She whispered, cracking a smirk and nodding to someone behind you. Before you could turn around, a large form grasped your body, slamming a hand over your mouth muffling your screams. You didn't have any time to react, feeling a pinch to your neck and slipping into darkness immediately after.

-

Bucky stretched with a sleepy yawn as the jet began its descent, already waiting at the doors and ready to hop out and see his wife and babies. He smiled at the thought of them all safely tucked into bed, sleeping soundly while you probably tried to stay up with a book. He always found you dozed off, book loosely falling from your hand, still propped up against the bed every time you waited for him. Didn't matter not how many times he told you to just go to bed. You always stayed up till you saw he was safe and sound.

Sam helped Bucky put away his equipment so he could get to you faster, everyone smiling watching the soldier dash off, running to his family.

"It's nice to see him like this" Nat nodded, trudging with the rest as they entered the compound, nothing amiss while they went to the conference room.

"He deserves it" Steve smiled, happy his best friend finally had what he'd always dreamt of. A wife. Kids. A safe home for them.

Bucky made his way over to see his little ones first, stopping in front of the heavily decorated door, covered with Captain America and Iron Man posters, courtesy of the two Godfathers competing for #1. Bucky smiled, turning the knob, only to find it locked shut, which was odd considering the only way to lock the door was if the security system had been activated.

He shook his head, frowning as he made his way to your shared bedroom instead, figuring it was a glitch or mistake. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach seeing the door open ajar, with the lamp turned on, your book set aside but you were nowhere to be seen.

"Baby?" Bucky called out, struggling to keep his panic at bay when the bathroom was empty, as was the closet. "Sweetheart?"

He called down the hall way a little louder before jogging to the kitchen but there had been no sign of you there when he'd entered. He started to move quicker, running back to disable to security system, breathing a sigh of relief to find all three little ones still sleeping soundly. He softly shut the door before immediately going to the conference room.

"Y/n, has anyone seen her?" He hoped to see you sitting with the others but he was filled with dread when the others shook their head in confusion. "She's-she's not in her room. I've checked everywhere, the security system was activated for the kids' room, she wouldn't leave the compound around this hour, somethings wrong"

No one asked questions, immediately jumping into action; Tony starts to comb through security from the time they left while Nat double checks every floor and room, just to be safe. Steve and Sam help Bucky look over your bedroom for any signs of a struggle. He ran his hand along the areas they'd hidden weapons, his stomach dropping when he felt the empty space behind the headboard.

"She took the knife" Bucky swallowed thickly while Sam and Steve shared concerned glances.

"Look, she's strong Buck, whatever it is, we'll find her" Steve insisted while Bucky continued to look, checking under the bed where he'd kept a pistol, nothing out of the ordinary except-

He frowned, seeing a little gift bag hidden underneath, newly packed with a gold bow placed on top. He picked it up, brows knitted together as he pulled away the tissue paper, feeling soft material tucked at the bottom of the bag. He took it out, heart splitting into two at the words written on the little onesie,

"Fuck!" A broken sob pulled Sam and Steve from their search, finding Bucky slumped by the edge of the bed.

"Buck?" they shared concerned glances seeing him holding something small in his hands, clutching it tightly to his chest.

"She's-she's pregnant" Bucky whispered, tears welling in his eyes holding the tiny jumpsuit in his hands, his heart couldn't take it-

"Barnes, we have something!" Tony's voice echoed through the coms, the three men running back to the conference room where Tony had pulled the footage from you in the kitchen. Bucky watched in silence, jaw clenched seeing the new agent use a stolen keycard to sneak into the compound with a Hydra agent, the two of them quietly waiting for you to come down.

He had to keep from smashing the TV, watching the man grab you from behind, injecting you with something before carelessly carrying you off like ragdoll, his heart aching, wishing he'd gotten home sooner. All voices around him drowned out to a faint buzz, the sounds of Tony and Steve giving out commands all muffled as if they were underwater.

"We have the coordinates locked, everyone down down to the jet, remember your positions.

It was like a switch was flipped.

"Cap and I clear the entry ways, Nat, Clint, follow behind, Sam, surveillance from the top. Barnes, you just have to get y/n"

The former young husband and father who sat with tears streaming down his cheeks was replaced with a man who knew no remorse. No guilt. No sense of right or wrong.

"Barnes"

Steve knew of this man well.

"Barnes?"

The one they called the Winter Soldier.

-

"Baby" Bucky whispered, scooping his sleepy eldest son in his arms before striding over to the twins bed, tucking them in together. "Daddy's gotta go another mission but we'll be back soon, alright?"

Steve could sense something was wrong, the strain in his fathers voice making him worry.

"Again?" He asked while Samantha and Nathaniel stirred slightly, trying to tuck themselves into their daddy's warmth. "Where's mama?" He asked with a tiny whisper having heard the commotion outside of the room, his hearing enhancing more and more each day. Bucky swallowed thickly while Steve stepped into the room to check on his best friend, his heart breaking over the three little ones clinging onto him.

"We're going to get her, promise bub" Buck kissed their heads, grabbing their favorite stuffies to cuddle with.

"Let me see my favorite little soldiers" Steve strode over, giving them a brave smile. "We'll be back before you know it"

"Will mama be okay?" Nathanial whispered, grabbing onto Steve's wrist before he could leave, tears streaming down his little chubby cheek.

"Of course" Steve reassured him, kissing his forehead and tucking him back into bed, "We'll never let anything happen to your mama"

That was a promise.

-

"Oh fuck" Clint snorted to himself watching the black mask that had been locked away for good slip over Bucky's face, his usual leather jacket replaced with a thick black tactical vest, straps running across his chest.

"They're fucked, aren't they" Sam whispered to Tony as he put his suit on, the glancing over to the stone cold brunette who sat in silence, finger resting on the trigger. Like he doesn't actually need us"

"We're really just going for moral support, also no one hurts our y/n" Tony whispered back. The teams full focus was getting you back along with keeping your babies safe; Pepper had come to look after the littles ones till you were found safe and sound. While the team was fully ready to take apart anyone that tried to hurt you. It was more that evident Bucky wouldn't have a problem taking hydra apart by himself but they wouldn't let him go alone.

Bucky didn't speak a word as soon as the jet hit the ground hitting his targets from 100's of feet away, each bullet landing right between their eyes.

"...Did you know he could do that?" Sam called from the coms, watching agents drop while he flew across the top of the base. Tony blasted the front of the doors while Steve cleared the hall way, throwing his shield, knocking down three men that guarded the wing.

"Looks like she's down in the cells" Sam called, looking at where the heat signals were coming from. Bucky made his way down the sterile hallway, red lights suddenly flashing above when a woman charged towards him.

"Welcome back soldat" Annabeth sauntered, blocking the doors to where you were being held with a satisfied smirk on her face. "We knew you'd come back. We missed you-

"Oh, I'm gonna have fun with this" Nat smirked, stepping in front of Bucky and grabbing Annabeth by her hair, dragging her off to a corner before throwing a punch to her jaw.

Bucky continued, slamming the lab doors open, his eyes landing onto your tied up form, strapped onto the very same chair he'd been tied to every time he'd been wiped. He didn't give anyone a second to think, killing those closest to him while the others tried to escape.

"You wanted me back, didn't you" Bucky's voice was a low growl as he stepped over the bodies he shot down before running to save you. "Well, I'm back"

The ones that ran off didn't get too far, making it out of the lab, only to be met with a very angry Steve and Tony.

"You don't hurt my fucking bestfriend" Steve gritted, slamming the agent to the floor before grabbing another and throwing him to Tony.

"You are not taking away my turn at being a God father" Sam grabbed another that tried to hide behind the rubble, swooped up to the ceiling, dangling to agent in the air for a while before letting him drop. Bucky was by your side in an instant, cutting off the straps that bound your arms together.

"Baby?" Bucky scooped you up in his arms, cradling your body to his chest, his hand gently brushing your cheek. "You okay sweetheart?"

"Bucky!" You cried out, clinging onto him, trembling while he kissed you before protectively covering your face from the bloody trail he left behind him. "You're here"

"M'taking you home baby, c'mon" Bucky whispered against your hair, carrying you tucked against him with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, breathing in his scent. "I got you babygirl, it's okay"

"I was so scared" Bucky held onto you tightly on the ride back, he had never felt relief like this, his heart finally calming down. "M'so sorry sweet girl"

"S'not your fault baby" you whispered back, smiling when you felt a kiss to the back of your head.

"Glad you're okay sweetheart" Steve gave you a squeeze before leaving you and Bucky to have your privacy again, staying near the front with the rest of the team, watching over Annabeth, who had been captured for questioning. Once you'd reached the compound, you were greeted with proper hugs and kisses from the others, hearing the pitter patter of little feel seconds later.

"MAMAA" Your babies ran to you, climbing up your leg until they were all properly snuggled against you, refusing to let go until they were sure you were perfectly safe.

"Daddy and your aunts and uncles rescued me, see? I'm all okay" You reassured them while they looked at you intently, checking over you the same way you did whenever they had a fall. Once they were satisfied that you were okay, they let their daddy take you away to get cleaned up while it was Tony's turn to read them a bedtime story even if it was nearing morning.

-

"Right where you belong" Bucky smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist after you'd both showered, foregoing clothes as you climbed into bed, snuggled over the covers. He spooned you from behind, the feel of his warm bare skin comforting you.

"I love you so much angel" He pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder, eyes brightening when he remembered the little present he'd found earlier. His hand slipped down to softly brush over your tummy. "Both of you" He playfully whispered, smiling at your soft gasp as you wiggled to turn around and face him, growing bashfully shy when he pulled the tiny jumpsuit he'd kept on his pillow.

"Was there something you wanted to tell me mama?"

"Think you're ready for a 4th?" You giggled, burying your face into his chest while he grinned, peppering your face with kisses till you squealed.

"M'ready for a 5th and 6th if you'd let me angel" Bucky smirked, playfully nipping your jaw before shuffling down to rest his head on your tummy, kissing your soft skin while you carded your fingers through his hair. "but I can't wait to meet this little one first"

-

[b2cute]

A Broken Promise

chris x fem!reader

warnings: none, fluff, pet names, that’s it enjoy :)

word count: 845

*y/n’s pov*

it was 11:00 pm and i was just about finished doing my skincare. i threw on an oversized black t-shirt and some boxers to go along with it. chris was out with friends and wasn’t going to be back for a little while. i promised him i’d stay up so i decided to just finish my nighttime routine and chill in the living room till he got home.

i head upstairs to the kitchen and microwave leftover cookies from earlier. i pour some chocolate milk to the side and head to the living room. as i choose a movie to watch, i grab a white fluffy blanket next to the couch. the movie begins and i snuggle up under the blanket and snack on my cookies. 45 minutes in, my eyes begin to feel heavy. i was getting groggy after being spread out on the long end of the couch, not to mention the house was freezing but i was too lazy to get up.

grabbing another pillow next to me for warmth, i rest my head to the side of the couch and close my eyes for a couple seconds. a few minutes of rest couldn’t hurt right?

*chris’s pov*

it was starting to get late at sam’s when matt and nick decided it was time to go home. i didn’t want to leave, but for the sake of my brothers i didn’t put up a fight. we say our goodbyes and begin to head out. walking down the steps, i decide to check my phone.

2:18 a.m

shit. i completely lost track of time and i begged y/n to wait up on me. i climb into the van and buckle my seatbelt, immediately calling y/n.

no answer.

one more time.

no answer.

“everything alright, chris” matt questions. he must’ve noticed i was feeling off when i decided to give nick aux and began subconsciously nibbling on my nails. i let out a nod and stare out the window, eager to get back to y/n. she could be kidnapped , or killed. my mind races to a million bad outcomes and my leg bounced up and down like a kangaroo.

after what seems like a road trip, matt finally pulls into the house. he drops me off from the car in the driveway so i can quickly get into the house while him and nick go back to park the car in the garage. i run up the steps and grab the keys from my pocket and fiddle with the lock.

*click*

the door unlocks. i head inside and shut the door behind me, locking it again. kicking my shoes off, i head upstairs to the living room. the nerves in my body immediately escape when i spot y/n, peacefully sleeping on the couch. she was sprawled out and her hair was a mess, but she still looked beautiful. her eyes were shut and her mouth was parted slightly. i smiled to myself and a warm feeling overcame me.

i head over her direction and notice y/n’s body shivering. i remove the blanket from her possession and pick her up in my arms, bridal style. a groan escapes her lips and she mumbles something inaudible and wraps her arms around my neck. i bend my neck down slightly to plant a peck on her soft head and she just snuggles her head into my chest. i can’t help but feel bad for standing her up.

we head downstairs to my room and i turn on my skylight. i place y/n into the covers as i go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. i come back to see her knocked out under the covers. soft snores are leaving her slightly-parted mouth and her hair covers one side of her face. i walk over to her side and place her phone to the charger and put it on dnd for her. whenever she falls asleep i always snap a picture, this time i took one of me with my tongue out and winking. i laugh to myself as i out the phone down and walk over to my side of the bed. crawling under the covers, y/n wastes no time hovering towards me. she wraps her arms around my torso and throws a leg over mine. he head nuzzles into my neck and she plants kisses there.

“sorry i made you wait ma, i lost track of time i didn’t mean to” i whisper brushing her hair out her face. she hums in responds and plants another kiss on my neck for reassurance. “i love you doll you know that. it won’t happen again.” i tell her. she was still in the same position when i hear her mumble “it’s okay chris.”

i chuckled at the tiredness of her voice and wrap my arms around her, holding her tight. she lightly breathes into my neck, letting a cool air onto it as i feel my eyes getting heavy. after a few moments, we drift off to bed holding eachother and sleeping the night away.

taglist: @mattsleftnipple03 @lolasturniolo @ilovemenwithlonghairr @breeloveschris @sturnioloenthusiast @sstvrnioloo @sophssturn @n00dl3zzz @mqttittude @mattsdinosweater @whicked-hazlatwhore @knowingnothingnoel @lovingmattysposts @lolasturniolo @guccifrog @gamermattsgf @strawberrysturniolo

[zweiginator]

just a silly thought abt Patrick when you're in uni and pat is staying the night in your dorm but of course its the only time he gets to spend with his girl before he has to go to another state so he's gonna want to fuck her nice but sadly you have a essay due for the next morning so pat works out a compromise- he fucks you while you type away at your computer, he promises he'll be gentle but...we know he's not gonna be (srry this is like my first ask)

patrick visiting you for a week or so around midterms because it's the only time he has to make the trip. and you're already behind on studying and completing assignments because patrick has been adamant about spending as much time together as possible--which you are more than okay with. luckily, you weren't worried about most of your classes which had waived a final exam in favor of a project or something a little less stressful, but your hardest class opted for a long final essay--one which youve barely started.

and patrick is on your bed, snaking on top of you. he has long since peeled his t-shirt off and is licking and nipping at your neck.

"doesn't this feel good?" he moans into your ear, grinding against your cunt.

"it does--" you reach for your laptop and patrick clicks his tongue, pushing it further away. "pat, i have an essay due tomorrow morning."

he unbuttons your blouse, palming your tits and he knows just how to fucking make you melt but you're being adamant.

"patrick--fuck you're making this hard."

he licks your nipple. presses an open-mouthed kiss to it, moaning around the sensitive flesh. "that's the point. 'm so hard."

and when you look down, he has a massive tent in his boxers.

"patrick. you knew when you came to visit that it's a busy time in the semester."

he stands on his knees and pushes his boxers down. his cock is flush against his stomach and a trail of dark hair leads your eyes straight to it. he's practically twitching, begging for you without saying a word.

he begins to stroke himself. slow and deliberate and the veins in his forearm are bulging as he holds himself tighter. precum seeps from his tip and he pouts to you.

"im so fucking hard--please."

and the problem isnt whether or not you want to fuck him--because you do. but the five-thousand word minimum imposed upon you by the meanest professor you've ever had looms over your head like a threat. and patrick looks so pretty like this. bottom lip pushed out. preening for you, he shows you his cock like an animal desperate to mate.

"you don't want me?" patrick moves closer, hisses as he feels how sensitive the crown of his cock is. you look at his perfect fucking body and huff.

"i do want you."

he grins.

"but i have to write this paper."

it falters.

"can you fuck me while i type it?"

patrick grabs your laptop and puts it on your pillow.

"i'll be gentle and quiet. a very calm fuck." he nods and a curl falls over his forehead.

you laugh at him, but shrug. laying on your stomach, you open your laptop and start getting to work. you try your best to focus as you hear the wetness of patrick's cock still in his hands. he yanks your shorts down forcefully.

"patrick." you scold him.

"oops." he says near your ear and you tilt your head to give him a kiss, just one. he tries to deepen it but you pull yourself away.

he huffs. and then he's kneading your ass in his hands. muttering under his breath about your body. your pretty little pussy. he checks to see if you're wet. you are. he sucks the finger that he just swept through your folds into his mouth. you want to see his face.

you feel his cock at your entrance and you clear your throat, typing faster. as you thrum your fingers over the keyboard mid-thought, patrick pushes into you, holding onto your waist tightly.

"fuck--jesus."

"patrick--" you try to scold him but it comes out more like a moan and you can almost hear the smirk on his face.

"yeah, baby?" he pulls out completely and you squeak, pushing your ass back towards him. "you want more?" a sharp slap on your ass.

you ignore him and type again. you've written about 150 words. fuck.

"oh that's right." patrick presses his chest against your back to groan and whimper into your ear. "goody two shoes is doing her homework."

he gives you slow, deep strokes that make your head loll forward. he knows how you crave to feel every inch of him. so he gives it to you.

he grabs your hair, pulling it into a messy ponytail.

"write your fucking paper." and then he fucks into you with sharper, faster thrusts. the sound of his pelvis smacking against your ass.

"fuck--i'm trying." you type more and patrick reads it out loud.

the sentences are jumbled. words misspelled and out of order. historical facts that are tinged with fiction. the end is a jumble of letters and apostrophes you typed as patrick made your body limp with pleasure.

he reaches around and pushes his fingers into your mouth. you suck on them and swirl your tongue, mewling as he starts fucking you again.

"you forget how to write? my cock's in you so deep you're a fuckin' mess."

drool is pooling on your mousepad and you can't even speak as his chest sticks to your back, his hips moving in sharp yet languid thrusts. soaking him, choking him.

patrick just closes your laptop and leans down next to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth before he moves your lips to his. your mouth falls open and you manage to open your eyes to look at him. your hand clamps over his, desperate to cum.

"you may have to ask for an extension." a smile against your lips. your legs are shaking and you can't even make out what he said. you just nod. and he nods back, mocking you.

[iluvmorales]

Miles morales, Earth 1610

summary What was your first kiss like?

a/n none

Word count ??

“Miles!” You called out with a smile, picking up your pace as you ran to the boy. He had his headphones on but he could hear you even through the loud ass music.

He turned to face you with a smile, watching you with adoration. “Y/N!” He held one of his arms up allowing you to wrap yours around his torso. “What’re you doing all the way over here?” He asked, setting his arm around you.

“I just wanted to see you, plus our classes were canceled today because of the attack last night. Kinda crashed out windows and stuff.” You spoke, not really caring about what’d happened to your school.

You and miles were split up when he’d one first place in the competition, he was sent to visions academy and you were sent to riverview academy, visions academy’s biggest rival.

“Ohh, I can skip class with you if you want? It’s just Spanish anyways.” Miles offered, taking his headphones completely down and resting on his neck with his free hand.

You quickly let go of him and stood straight, fixing your now wrinkled shirt; “No don’t do that what? I was just wondering if I could wait for you in your dorm?” You beamed at him with a smile.

“Ohh yeah, it’ll be quick.” Miles nodded as he walked up the steps and opened the door letting you in first. He wouldn’t admit it of course, but he was internally freaking out.

You looked so good today and you came all this way just to see him for a couple hours? You’d be the death of him if he wasn’t taught how to keep his cool when it comes to girls by his unc.

“Okay we can’t let admin see you so come this way” Miles pulled you into a less crowded hallway, a longer route to the dorms.

“I’ll race you there” you grinned at miles, waiting for him to accept your challenge. You always had the childish spark to you when you were around miles.

“Okay, if I win you have to let me borrow your 1’s and any clothes I want for a day- “You don’t even fit my shoes! Or my clothes!” He yelled.

“True, but if you win I’ll do something you want.” Miles paused,

Something he wants?

His mind instantly flashed images of you giving him a kiss, something he’d always wanted to do but backed down everytime the tension between you two built up.

“Bet.” Was all he sad before tying his laces and standing at a line the tiled floor provided. You quickly took your position next to him before smiling at him.

“1”

“2”

“3”

And on three you both took off, darting for the dorms. Miles was obviously ahead, but you didn’t expect it. “Since when were you so- athletic?!” You yelled trying your hardest to catch up with him.

He only looked back at you, sticking out his tongue like a child. Before you both knew it, miles slammed into the door first, you running still, not being able to slow down.

“Miles!” You yelled, tripping over your own feet. He quickly caught you, sending him slamming into the door once more.

You both laughed and giggled, being in miles’ arms as you looked up with a smile. “Damn, you really won huh” you said, defeatedly.

“Yeah,..” he trailed off, eyes moving towards your lips. You caught notice of it of course, but you looked at him, slowly inching closer.

His hand moved to your lower back and another to your cheek. You closed your eyes and moved closer, closing the little distance that was between you both.

His lips on yours was like static, a feeling in your chest you’d never felt before. You pulled away, still in a little daze as you looked up at miles. You both smiled like idiots in love before the dorms door had swung open causing you both to fall back into the room.

“Miles could you not make out on the door while I’m in here” ganke hummed before stepping over you two and into the hallway.

Both of your faces were on fire, your legs between his and your chests against eachother. You quickly stood up helping miles as well.

“Miles were gonna be late hurry up!” Ganke yelled from the end of the hallway. Miles scratched the back of his head nervously;

“we can talk about it later miles, get to class” you smiled lovingly at him before walking up and giving him a peck on his cheek

“Yeah..yeah okay see you in a hour” miles smiled, stepping out the dorm. “I’m still gonna wear your clothes miles!” You yelled as he walked down the hallway.

“Lo que es mío es tuyo amor!” He turned to face you throwing his hands up while walking backwards, winking.

You just laughed before going back into the dorm, closing the door.

amor.

translation

- Lo que es mío es tuyo amor means What’s mine is yours love

[kamotecue]

caught red-handed ꕥ a. russo

pairing: alessia russo x reader

summary: after a long gym session with the team, alessia decided to bring her (secret) girlfriend to a storage room, little did they know they’d get caught.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you were busy finding the word ‘pineapple’ in the crossword puzzle book, the topic was fruits and you still struggled to look for it.

you felt someone sit in front of you, as you gazed up to see alessia who looked at you with a soft smile. you returned it, giving your girlfriend a soft look as she hummed.

“busy, n/n?” alessia asked as you gave her a shrugged. it had only been a day since the team travelled to germany to visit and train at adidas’s headquarters.

“not really, less. just passing time, why?” you called each other by nicknames that the team knows so it wouldn’t be suspicious. even until now, no one has a clue that the two of you were dating.

you played against each other in college, you played at stanford while she played for the tar heels. college lessi was way different than the one now, however you had fallen in love with both versions of her, and will continue to fall for the different sides.

“let’s go somewhere?” less asked, as you tilted your head. you were busy looking through paper works, it wasn’t easy being a business woman.

you contemplated before standing up, stretching as she saw your exposed stomach as your shirt had ridden up.

“let’s go then?” you asked as you brought your arms down, less lead you to a hallway. as she opened a random door, pulling you into a storage room as she closed the door behind you.

“a storage room?” you asked, as lessi gave you a soft nod.

“what are we teenagers? we aren’t going to snog in a-“ you didn’t complete your sentence as alessia softly pushed you to the wall, your hands made their way to her waist as she put her face closer to yours.

“we certainly acted like it when we were in college, sneaking out of the locker room after our school went against each other.” lessi said, as you flushed. you didn’t even deny it as she had a small smirk on her face.

“you forgot to mentioned that you acted like a teenage boy-“ you didn’t even continue your sentence as she wrapped her arms around you, placing a soft yet gentle kiss on your lips.

you had a hand on her stomach as you felt her kisses start to be a bit rougher. you didn’t notice the steps that were heading closer, but when the door swung open, alessia had disconnect her lips from yours before moving away in a rush.

“oh? interesting.” you heard leah say, her voice was filled in amusement as you groaned. you were never going to hear the end of this.

“how long has this been going on?” lee asked, as you kept silent, catching your breath as you watched as alessia turned a bit red.

“second year of college.” less said, as leah’s eyes quirked in surprise.

“that’s quite a while less, i’m surprised this has been kept a secret.” you fidgeted with the end of your shirt as leah gave you a soft smile.

“well, this is certainly a cute pair. however, you’d be telling me the story of how you two, follow me.” leah said, as she gestured for you two to follow her.

you both settled in an open room, there were a few bean bags as you settled on the purple one. lessi gave you a soft smile before moving hers closer to yours.

she interlocked your hand with hers, putting it on her lap as she gently caressed your hand with her thumb.

“well, go on then.” leah said, as you gave her a look to which she just winked to. she tossed you a bottle of water, as you caught it, quickly taking a sip.

“it was in our second year of college? we played against each other in the ncaa.” less said, as you hummed.

“in the middle of the game, i had tripped on the pitch. y/n had caught me despite being on the opposite team, she swore it was because i could’ve gotten injured.” you chuckled as you never really told her the reason why.

“it’s because i had my eyes on you during the game, less. what can i say, your unc era was the best.” you winked as leah jokingly gagged at how sweet this was.

the story continued with you listening while alessia was the story teller. you had corrected her a few times, to which she gave you a soft smile.

[to the anon who requested this, i accidentally posted your anonymous request so i deleted it in a rush. i really hope you liked this].

[petrichorium]

you know jing yuan has been watching you since you emerged from the bathroom.

he lays in the bed, eyes blissfully closed whenever you sneak a glimpse—the covers are haphazardly tossed over his body and he gives a perfectly sound impression of himself dozing away in the dimmed light of the hotel room, but you know better.

you can feel his gaze on you every time you look away; have felt it since you’d stepped out in a bathrobe and turned your back on him to put on your clothes. you’d have thought that he’d jump at the chance to zip up the minidress you’d chosen; apparently, whatever intent he has with his faux sleep outweighs his typical enthusiasm to put his hands on your body.

(you emphasize your struggle anyway, pouting and sighing and all but audibly lamenting how oh, you wish your handsome boyfriend were awake, his hands are so much more skilled and steady, to no avail)

those eyes are still closed when you turn to make your way towards the vanity. you’d splurged on the hotel room, admittedly eager to show your lover the best your home system has to offer, though he’d probably name the bed as his favorite part.

jing yuan’s eyes had lit up when he’d first seen it—a large cupped thing like a bowl, lined with plush cushion and plenty spacious enough to comfortably fit five people. it’s built out into a bubble window on one side of the bedroom and the vanity you currently sit at is placed opposite, thus a perfect vantage point for him to observe you as you pull your stockings up your legs and then set about doing your makeup—which, as you apply a final choice of lipgloss, is now complete. with a quick glance to the clock ensuring you and he still have half an hour before you need to leave, you stand and turn to look at him.

while he relaxes his face and keeps his eyes stubbornly shut, it’s no coincidence that he turns over with your motion. it pulls the covers mostly off his body, ruffles his hair. the sigh he lets out is content, not sounding tired in the slightest. you huff a laugh.

he shifts again. the sheet falls further—almost nothing covers him now, little more than a strip of cotton across one upper thigh that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination with how wide his legs have been spread.

you approach the bed fully, padding over with stocking-covered feet on the carpeted floor until you stand right behind him. reaching out, you brush his bangs up out of his eyes and over his forehead, bending over at the same time to look over his lounging form.

“i know what you’re doing,” you say sternly, though you’re gentle as your fingertips caress him. “it won’t work.”

“won’t it?” jing yuan’s voice isn’t even laced with sleep; it’s perfectly alert, teasing, as he tilts his head back to give you more access.

you press a sticky kiss to his forehead. it leaves a shimmering mark of your lip gloss, tinted a faint pink. “you don’t have to come. you’re more than welcome to stay behind if you want.”

“we could remain here for a night in,” he counters. “this bed is… a marvel.”

his words have you giggling lightly. this time you kiss the mole just beneath his closed eye, drawing a heavy, pleased sigh from the elegant curve of his lips. your hand cradles his cheek, thumb reaching out to trace his cupid’s bow.

“tempting as that may be, we have a very limited amount of time on this trip. i’m not giving up on the only night i’ll be able to spend time with my friends like this.”

his hand, large and calloused and warm, reaches up to stop yours from pulling away. he turns into your touch, nuzzling at your palm with a petulantly grumbling noise. still, when his rough fingers move to lace with yours, you slip from his grasp and step away.

“i’m going with or without you, jing yuan,” you declare. “but if you’d like to come, you need to get ready now.”

“how very demanding. i must say, i thought i had successfully evaded orders when i took leave…” now he yawns and makes a show of stretching. you watch him shift, all lethargic grace, every motion meticulously planned—thighs tensing, stomach twitching, arms bulging. a display for you, a last-ditch effort to seduce you back into bed.

you snicker. it won’t work, but you’re hardly inclined to complain. it’s a pretty sight to see regardless; all that honed muscle working beneath porcelain skin, those scattered moles and full brush of stark white hair only emphasizing each sinewy movement. you’re drawn nearer once more, inclined to get a better look—that’s your mistake.

above all else your lover is a cunning man. it’s a miracle he put that mind to use for good, because he utilizes it for far more sinister things when it comes to you. beckoning you closer, setting up the trap, baiting it with his own body; your legs meet the edge of the bed and, though he’s still only halfway onto his stomach, a big hand darts out to catch behind your knee, so fast you don’t realize what’s happened until he’s dragging you towards him with inescapable strength.

your shin drags over the bed’s lowered entrance. the sheer speed of it all has you stumbling, only just managing to catch yourself with a hand on the raised side.

jing yuan lets out a disappointed little grunt. his touch is gentle, coaxing, as he attempts to pull your leg even closer. when that proves futile he eases himself towards you and presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. tilting his head up, he fixes you with a heavy-lidded look, those striking golden eyes glinting beneath long, pretty lashes.

“are you certain i cannot convince you to stay?”

“yes,” you answer without hesitation, entirely unmoved by his responding whine. you remain stoic, too, when he drags your lower leg into the bed and begins to kiss down the side of your calf, lips searing, lingering longer and longer with each press to your stocking-covered skin. upon reaching your ankle he gives far too much attention there; free hand reaching around to grab hold of your foot and maneuver it to let him pepper nipping kisses along the top.

with your face growing hot and your leg squirming beneath his attention, you forget entirely about his other hand—until it pinches at the thin fabric behind your knee and tugs, fast and hard. the mesh rips with ease, a run tearing down the length of your calf. you yelp, attempting to pull back but stopped by the immovable grip he has on you. he sinks his teeth into the back of your ankle just enough that you’re certain it’ll leave a mark, but when he pulls away it’s obvious what his true intent was.

this time the rip is loud, fabric caught between his canines and giving way like tissue paper. you stumble back and yelp out a protest; his grip becomes solid, tugs you back to him so strongly that you lose your footing and spill into the soft drum beyond. he’s atop you instantly, caging you in with a thick arm on either side of your head.

“jing yuan!” your wail is swallowed by a kiss, but even as his tongue delves into the hot cavern of your mouth it cannot distract from the tattered remains of your stockings. you lift your knee to brace it against his chest; there’s a loud, wet sound as he finally pulls away from your mouth and buries his face into your neck.

“stay,” he groans out between each searing, open-mouthed suck at your skin. “let me hoard you, let me keep you to myself—”

“i thought that was my job?” your words catch and come out breathy as he trails lower, running a hand down the side of your body and then shamelessly shoving it up the hem of your dress—which has, admittedly, ridden up indecently high. still, you do your best to continue. “stealing you away from your responsibilities on the luofu.”

“a dual effort, then. we must be made for each other, my dear.”

his grip on your thigh is almost painful. he nuzzles at the other, reverent, eyes clouded over when they dare to flit up to meet yours. when his tongue pokes out from between plush lips, wetting them and then retreating, you realize the intent seconds before he bows his head.

you’re faster. your hand flies to his hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking back just before he manages to burrow beneath your skirt. for half a moment the pair of you remain there, frozen—his lips halfway parted, your chest heaving with pants. you blink. then you slowly ease your legs from beneath his torso.

“i told you,” you say, tightening your grip until his eyes flutter and he lets out an obscene, unabashed groan, “it won’t work. you can wait until after we come home.”

you’re precise as you peel yourself away; you keep your spare hand free to swat at any further attempts to pin you, slide your body out from beneath him until you can perch up upon the bed’s entrance and catch your breath as you stare down at him.

jing yuan props his head in his hand and returns your look. you click your tongue, but it’s impossible to fight back the affection in your tone. “scoundrel.”

his lips twitch. “so they say.”

“it’s deserved.”

“i can hardly deny it. i only wish you put up less of a fight.”

“no you don’t.”

“no,” he concedes, “i don’t.”

finally you turn and stand. the feeling of the carpet beneath your bare foot reminds you that you need to change your stockings—you frown as you glance at tattered remains of fabric on your leg.

“bastard,” you hiss out, far more venomous than the previous accusation. your suitcase lies closed upon the dresser; you approach it to dig through for your spare.

behind you, still, you hear no sound of motion. you sigh loudly, dropping the ball of socks in your hand and turning your head just barely to give jing yuan a lidded look where he’s draped himself over the side of the bed, arms crossed and biceps bulging as he watches you. never one to give up; a stubborn, bullheaded man who would chase you to the farthest reaches of the universe for a single kiss, only spurred onward by your fleeing.

perhaps you’ll throw him a bone.

“if you’re fast enough,” you begin sweetly, “i’ll let you help me into this new pair.”

he’s up instantly, darting for the bundle of clothes you’d set out for him before you’d even showered with a speed rarely seen outside of the battlefield. the offer will make you late, surely, and quite possibly cost you your second pair of stockings—you’re well aware his mind is running wild with schemes to bury his head between your thighs and glut himself on his well-earned prize in whatever fleeting time you might give him before finally shoving him away.

but what kind of leisure trip would it be if you didn’t give in to his whims?

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part sixteen

authors note: this is a nice lil break from all of the angst! ya'll deserve it! just.....remember that storms sometimes come in cycles, so let's just enjoy now! also, my legal knowledge is limited, so we take some creative liberties. just go with the flow, bro.

i also wanna just say thank you, as always, to all of you who enjoy this story of mine! i hit over 100k words and 300+ pages in the google doc i write this in, and it's such a special thing that i feel largely goes to you all for the wonderful support. so thank you!!!!

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst (good-ish?), fluff, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns

The hearing to see if the open case against you moves forward is scheduled for 8am on February 15th, 2024.

You’re outside that courthouse at 7am sharp on February 15th, 2024.

It’s all you could think about in the days leading up. Once you learned that you passed your home inspection, there was a bit of relief but still that bitter feeling of not knowing how the court date would go that kept you in that loop of misery.

Joe, bless his soul, has been a saint, staying with and supporting you in between his frequent trips to your mom’s house to spend time with Callie.

And Alexis…..my God, you’re not sure how and if you could ever repay her. She gave you a detailed play by play of her attack on Mariah, and while on the surface level, it pleased you to know that bitch got her ass beat.

It didn’t do shit to the emotional pain you’ve felt at having your child ripped away from you.

Hate is a strong word, but you hate her. She could drop dead tomorrow, and you’d spit on her grave.

It’s a bold sentiment but also how you feel. Maybe it’ll go away as time passes, or maybe it won’t. Truth be told, you don’t really care too much about it either way.

You’d hoped Alexis would stay around a little longer, as you deeply enjoyed her company, her support, wanted to express to her how much her grounding you and keeping you from catching a case, putting herself at risk for catching a case, meant to you. But, in true Alexis fashion, she’d hopped on a flight and skipped town.

It wasn’t entirely surprising. She can never be in one place for too long, but it does leave a little bit of a sting. 

Granted, in her words, “Girl, don’t worry, I’ll be back when my warrant becomes active.”

The memory brings a small smile on your face as you sit in the courtroom, hearing the details of the case presented to the judge. 

It’s a daunting ordeal but not nearly as difficult as you anticipated, mostly because there is literally nothing being presented that could implicate you in any way. Truthfully speaking, the prosecutor and your public defender sound like they're advocating for the same thing: a complete dismissal. 

It provides you a small slither of reassurance and validates your request to have Joe stay at the apartment. In the negative percent chance that something went wrong today, you wanted to continue to keep his presence in Callie’s life a secret. Push comes to shove, he could serve as a liaison between the two of you.

The presenting of the “evidence” lasts much shorter than you were anticipating, and it’s when the court is ordered to stand, that the rush of anxiety returns. It takes a lot in you to settle yourself, to keep your foot from tapping, to keep from falling out.

Reminding yourself that not a speck of incriminating evidence was presented, thus no basis for moving forward with the investigation, is what keeps your centered.

As centered as one can be in this moment. 

There’s a brutal delay in the moments before the verdict is handed, one that makes your throat dry and eyes water. It’s suddenly so overwhelming, but you force yourself to pull it together. 

Judge Merritt removes his glasses from his eyes and releases a heavy sigh. “In all my years on this bench, this may be the most frustrated I’ve felt by a case before me.” For a second, your stomach drops. What does he mean by that? “There is not an ounce of evidence before me to support the actions that were taken nor the claims made against the defendant.” A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you ground your feet into your heels. That’s definitely not what you were expecting him to say, but it’s most definitely what you were praying he would say. 

“The law is the law, and I respect all parties involved who followed protocol. But my God, what a waste of time and resources.” He then directs his focus specifically on you, gaze almost apologetic. “Young lady, I sincerely apologize for the stress this situation has put you and this innocent child under. What a disgrace. Whoever made these horrific, false accusations against you, may God have mercy on their soul.” He reaches for his gavel. “All charges are dismissed against the defendant on the basis of no evidence. This case is officially closed, and the child is to be returned to the defendant’s custody, effectively immediately.”

At the same moment he bangs the gavel, you double over, hand over your stomach, crying almost instantaneously. “Thank you,” you say in between tears and share a hug with your lawyer. Surely, this is the easiest case they’ve ever defended, but it’s now one of the most important moments of your life.

You don’t hesitate to gather your jacket and adjust the purse on your shoulder as you murmur a goodbye to the lawyer and make your way down the aisle of the courtroom. You’ll probably send him a thank you card with a heartfelt message at a later date and time, but that’s not a priority currently.

The only thing you want and need is to go get your baby.

You’re looking down, trembling hands digging for your car key in your purse when you hear it, the single most beautiful sound to exist in this world, in your world.

“Mommy!”

There’s a good chance you risk whiplash when your head snaps up at the sound of the voice you’ve been almost dying to hear for the past couple days. It’s so worth it when you land your eyes on that dimpled smile that makes your life have meaning.

“Callie…..”

Before you can even close the gap between the two of you, Callie’s little feet are moving across the busy lobby of the courtroom. You literally drop to both knees, arms spread to accept her hug when she throws her body against yours. 

The tears intensify as you hold her close, hold her tight, like you’ll never let her go. And you won’t. Never again. “Calista….” She’s crying into your chest the same way your tears are soaking the top of her head. “My baby. My sweet baby….”

Callie pulls back to look at you with a frown you hope to never see on her face ever again. “Please don’t leave me anymore, mommy.”

“Never,” you vow. Law be damned, nothing could ever separate you from her again. “I will never leave you again.”

It’s the joy and happiness you feel at being reunited with your daughter that prevents you from asking just why the hell she’s at the courthouse. But, that question is answered when footsteps approach the two of you.

Your heart swells again. “Mom….” 

Your mom is the first to pull you into her for a hug that includes the three of you. She pulls ways, tears in her eyes. “There was no way on God's green earth I was going to let one more unnecessary minute pass before letting that baby be with you again.” It’s clear Joe communicated the time of your court date with your mom to make sure she would be here right on time for the dismissal and subsequent return of custody of Callie to you.

He’s literally the perfect man.

You can’t stop hugging Callie, can’t stop holding her tight, almost needing to have her in your embrace. It’s when you turn to your mom though, needing to express something to her but not entirely knowing how that you loosen your hold a little bit. “I’ve missed you so much, mom, but….”

She lifts her hand to stop you. “I understand, sweetie. We’ll catch up.” You appreciate her so much in this moment. She must know all you want is to be able to have Callie back in your place again, return to some semi sense of normalcy. “Go take your baby home.”

She gets it. You love her and have missed her dearly. However, you just want to go back to your place, especially as Joe is eagerly waiting for Callie to be back with you as well. Just want her to be home.

“Thank you, mama,” you hug her again, sniffling. She holds you for a minute and then steps back, brushing a hand over Callie’s face. Callie, who hasn’t pulled her head away from where she’s laying on your chest. 

You thank her yet again for all she did. She had to have been out of work the past week to stay with Callie, and you make a mental note to talk to her about giving her some money for that time she couldn’t work. You know she does okay for herself, but that loss of income has to impact her one way or another.

She may not accept it, but you still want to offer.

The car drive is full of Callie catching you up on everything you missed in the days without her, and you eat up every second of it. She’s even more thrilled when she sees that Joe is at the apartment, waiting for you and her with breakfast already prepared.

He really is a gem.

The three of you enjoy your meal, Callie opting to sit on your lap as she eats, clearly wanting to be close to you. 

The feeling is mutual. 

Joe had made a comment just yesterday, partially frustrated as it was Valentine’s Day, and he wanted to do something nice for you, something nice with you. But, he already knew you weren’t really in the mood for anything other than sulking and obsessing over your court date. Still, he was just irked about the situation as a whole and its hindering him spending what should be a special day catering to you.

You’d calmly explained to him that the best valentine's day gift you could receive was returned physical and actual custody of your daughter. And to have her back, to have just that, means the absolute world to you.

All you need is her.

Hence why the rest of the day is spent holed up in your apartment, Callie taking the lead and dictating what she wants to do. A lot of play. Some movie viewings. Occasional food breaks. And a lot of wholesome fun.

It warms your heart to see how happy she is to be home. 

The three of you are sitting on the floor of your living room, coffee table moved to the side to make room for all of Callie’s art supplies she ‘shares’ with the two of you as you all color. It’s about halfway through the day, when you realize you’ll need to start wrapping up to get her in bed.

Clearing your throat, you catch her attention. “Callie….your dad and I want to talk to you about something.” Her eyes lift from the page and settle on you with a heightened level of curiosity. Reaching out to brush back some of her hair, you start to explain, “you know how we live here in mommy’s place in this town?” She nods. “Well, daddy actually lives somewhere else when he’s not working.”

Her eyes fall on Joe as she asks, “where do you live?”

He answers with the gentleness you’ve noticed he reserves for her and only her. “I live in Florida.”

Her eyes flash with a glimpse of excitement. “Really? That’s where Disney is!”

Joe chuckles, and you can tell he doesn’t want to focus too much on that aspect of the move. He wants Disney to be an absolute surprise for her. “It is, but almost all of your cousins all live in Florida too.”

The excitement grows as she clarifies. “Cousin Jon and Cousin Josh too?”

Joe flicks her nose. “Yup.”

“Callie….” You redirect her attention back to you, taking both of her hands in yours. “Your dad and I think it’s a good idea if….if you and I move to Florida with him.” You quickly add on. “We’ll get a house together, and we’ll all live with each other. That way when daddy comes to visit, he’ll be at home with us.”

You can tell she’s sitting on the words, processing and making as much sense as a 4-year-old can make out of a situation like this. Finally, she asks, “will I still see grandma?”

This is when Joe jumps in and assures her. “I will make sure your grandma can come see you whenever she wants, baby girl.” Callie is too young to understand the underlying meaning of his words, but you catch on quickly. He’ll pay for your mom to come visit whenever she, you, or Callie want to see one another. “And you and mommy can come here and visit however many times you want to.” At this point, as this man is already forking up most, if not all of the money for a house, you have a hard time finding it in you to protest any of this. Especially as it primarily benefits Callie.

Again, she sits on this new information and asks a follow up question. “Can we get a backyard?”

Joe is quick to answer. “We sure can.”

She glances up at him with those sweet eyes you’re almost certain he’s physically incapable of saying ‘no’ to. “A big backyard?”

Joe suddenly reaches over and lifts her up high. Callie’s sweet giggles are food to your soul. God, you missed her. “As big as you want.”

Settling into Joe’s lap, she shoots you a wishful glance. “And a puppy, mommy?”

Laughing, you reach and tickle her side. “Nice try, sis, but you know the rule. Not until you hit double digits.”

Joe gives you that look. That look that tells you this is clearly something he wants to “discuss” further when alone, i.e., try to convince you why you should cave. You’re open for the discussion, but you’re not changing your mind. Callie is entirely too young for a pet, because you would be the one taking care of the damn dog most of the time anyway. And as you weren’t raised with animals, it’s not really your thing.

Maybe a fish.

Settling down, you ask her again as she sits comfortably in Joe’s lap. “So, you’re okay with this? With us moving?” Before she can answer, you add. “We’re going to try to find a house soon, so….so we can move as soon as we can.” This is the part you struggle with the most. Not having a lot of time to prepare for such a big thing, but you also know the sooner you’re out of that town, the better. Not being able to give her more time to say goodbye though absolutely sucks. 

Still.

You have to get Callie out of this town. 

“What about my graduation?” There’s a hint of sadness to her question. Understandably so. This is a big accomplishment for her. 

Joe offers, gently. “We’ll do something special for your graduation. I promise. Maybe invite your cousins.”

“With ice cream?”

“Yes. With ice cream.” Laughing, you share a look with Joe who nods for you to share the next part. “Hey, baby?”

“Hmm?”

“You, me, and daddy are gonna spend some time in Florida this weekend so we can go tour a house and see what we think of it.”

It’s something you and Joe discussed at length the night before. Well, more him telling you that he thought it’d be a good idea if you could get away for a couple days. You’re pretty sure he expected more of a protest from you, but he received none. The idea of being in a completely different state with Callie is more appealing than you think he realizes. 

It’s not a hard sell.

As with most of this discussion, she’s clearly intrigued. “Really?”

Nodding, you continue. “Daddy’s gonna fly out with us tomorrow morning, but he’s gotta leave tomorrow afternoon to get back to work, so it’ll mostly be you and me this weekend. But, I talked to your cousin Kaylah and we’re gonna see if you and Ellie can have a playdate.”

Both Kaylah and Trinity have checked on you often in the past week, offering words of support and encouragement that truly held you up in moments where you were already feeling so low. 

They make the idea of moving and having that kind of support system that much more enticing.

Connecting with her cousin clearly chips away some of Callie’s sadness as she cheers. “Yay!”

It pleases you immensely that she took the news so well, though a large part of you believed she would. 

This is what she’s always wanted.

A family. 

————

Traveling with Joe is so much easier than traveling alone, mostly because of how helpful it is to have another adult present when flying with a child. Naturally, Callie stays close to you, but it’s the closeness and holding her most of the time while Joe handles luggage and checking you in for your flight that you appreciate more than anything.

You’re appreciative of all he does for you, but it's physically being there that makes the biggest difference. His money is fine and all, but you don’t care about that shit. You just need him. That’s all.

Of course, he got you all first class tickets but unlike the last time you flew with Callie, instead of her being the social butterfly that she is by making friends with the flight crew, she’s fast asleep in her seat. It’s not entirely unexpected considering the ungodly hour you had to wake her up at to make it in time for the flight. If the situation was different, you’d have objected to such a crunch timeline. However, as Joe literally has a show tonight, the earlier the flight, the sooner you could view the house, the better the chances he can make his flight out in time.

Joe’s apartment is exactly as nice as you imagined it to be. It’s definitely luxury, but it looks like it’s unlived in, which is expected. You know he spends most of his time on the road. He’s probably been at your place more than he’s been at his own in the past couple months.

That’s just the life of a professional wrestler.

You lay Callie down in the guest bedroom and let her get in a little rest while you freshen up in the shower before Joe shows you around his place, where things are and whatnot. He tries to get you to take a nap, but it’s hard for you to sleep, especially when you slept as well as you did the night before.

The best sleep you’ve had since Callie was removed from you.

So, you instead catch up on some emails, mostly work related, navigating a time to meet with your principal and figure out some plan for your resignation. You’d be willing to stay on with the school system to guide and help out whoever they hire to replace you, so long as they understand it would be a long distance type of situation. 

Regardless, it’s not a major concern. Your family comes first. 

Joe, being the perfect man that he is, fixes a breakfast for you and Callie to eat before you head out. And it’s nice to finally be able to eat without emptying your stomach less than half an hour later. It’s even nicer to be able to share that breakfast with the two people you love the most.

Similar to breakfast, the car ride to the viewing is a fun time, Joe allowing Callie to have control of the music. She, of course, asks you to play her Disney playlist.

You don’t hesitate. You’ve missed this, missed all of her requests, everything about her, really. 

But pulling up to said house is an entirely different experience.

“Holy shit,” you breathe as Joe pulls his Range Rover into the driveway behind the red Tesla you’d guess belongs to the realtor his manager hired for ya’ll, Jen.

“Mommy, you said a bad word,” Callie scolds, and Joe chuckles. You shoot him a side glare which only makes him laugh more as he moves to unbuckle Callie from her booster seat. 

“Mommy’s sorry, baby.” It’s a genuine apology, but you don’t actually regret what you said. You can’t help it. The house looked huge in the pictures, but it’s massive in person. You feel like you’ve just walked into Beverly Hills or something. Like if the house wasn’t secured by a massive, black wrought iron gate, the neighbors would call the police on you for trespassing on some where did you people come from BS.

Jen, the realtor, is waiting for you in the foyer of the house. She’s nice enough, seems genuine and chill. But, it’s hard to focus too much on her when you’re stuck in a state of awe at the fact that you’re literally standing in a mansion. Callie instantly falls in love just from the fact that her voice echoes near the entrance, among other things as well, but that fact alone wins her over immediately. 

You find it strange, however, when Jen basically leaves the three of you alone to tour the house. Granted, you’ve never actually been on a house tour, everything you've seen on HGTV indicated homegirl is supposed to actually, well, sell the house.

“Sis must not care about this commission,” you whisper to Joe, but a gasp immediately leaves your mouth afterwards as you walk into the kitchen. “Oh my god….” You’d fallen in love the minute you saw the pictures, but seeing it in person is a whole other experience. “Look at the ovens.” The open floor plan of the kitchen alone probably rivals half the size of your apartment back home. Maybe more. “Is this real granite?” Running a finger over the cool stone, you realize that in a house this big and luxurious, it only makes sense that everything included is real. 

And expensive.

Callie giggles, standing close to Joe. “Maybe mommy can learn how to cook.”

Smacking your teeth, you playfully cross your arms over your chest, warning, “okay, I’m forreal. Ya’ll better leave me alone. I try.” 

“Yes, you do absolutely try.” You can’t move fast enough to punch Joe’s arm, a small laugh leaving his mouth at your slowness. Or maybe it’s just his speed. You can tell he’s been hitting the gym harder in preparation for WrestleMania, and it’s paying off, paying off very well. With everything going on, you haven’t had the time nor desire to show him said appreciation. 

An unfortunate occurrence indeed. 

“Let’s look at the rest,” Joe encourages, leaning over to pick up Callie, though something tells you she’ll be wiggling to get down and explore with her own two feet. 

Following them, you’re grateful that you wore your most comfortable pair of sneakers. Exploration of this home is a workout in and of itself.

Sure enough, you’re barely into the back of the house when Callie asks to get down, running into the movie theater room. “It’s just like the movies!”

“It sure is….” Touring the rest of the residence is something like out of a fantasy. There’s not a single thing you can find wrong with this house. The rooms, and there are plenty of them,  are large, spacious, ready to be decorated as you see fit. You even come across two spaces that you could see being your and Joe’s office spaces. That’s one thing you really did miss after giving up your office for Callie to have a playroom. This house is big enough for her to have two playrooms if she wants.

And you know Joe would give it to her. 

The master bedroom is literally perfect, but the bathroom is even better with a separate shower, bathroom, and large his/her sinks with counter space that links the two sinks. It conjures inappropriate thoughts about how said space could be used. 

But, it’s really the backyard that does it for you. It’s humongous, beautiful green grass stretching out for what seems like a mile. There’s a separate attached building that you already know Joe would turn into a home gym, a beautiful pool that’s covered up, covered patio and just nothing but room for Callie to run around.

And she does just that.

Her little legs take her all over the greenery as you take in everything else. 

Joe suddenly turns you toward him. His hand is on the back of your neck, and his voice is almost vulnerable, as he asks, “do you like it?”

Maybe if not for the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on the past week, you’d hit him with your usual smartass remark. But, that’s neither a desire nor an option, as you answer with equal vulnerability. “I love it.” It’s when you see that spark of excitement and relief in his eyes that you see a glimpse of Callie, see her smiling face and big, hopeful eyes. You’d never realized just how much of him is in her. “But Joe, I don’t want you sp—”

“It’s ours.” 

One, two, three blinks precede you asking with a stutter in your voice. “W–what?”

His hands shift to your hips as he repeats himself. “It’s ours.”

There’s a hint of alarm growing in your body and projected into your voice. “You’re saying that like it’s supposed to make sense, Joe.” 

He brings his lips to your forehead and says, “this is our house.”

You’re hearing him, but you’re not actually hearing him because there’s no way in hell he can be serious right now. No way that he can seriously be telling you that this beautiful house you’re standing in, the kind of house people can only dream about having one day, the level of luxury that’s reserved for Pinterest and vision boards…..is yours.

Chuckling at your probably expected reaction, he adds. “I could tell by your facial expressions just looking at the pictures that you loved it, so I asked Kaylah and Alexis to come see it, since Kay knows what I like, and I know Lex knows what you like.” You suddenly realize why he was being a bit strange with his phone the other day, a stark difference from the man who literally told you his passcode even when you didn’t ask for it. Going through your man’s phone was never your thing, especially with him. You trust him too much for that shit.

It also explains Alexis' sudden departure. She was checking out the house for you, seeing if it was something that you would like. Obviously, it’s not something you like.

It’s something you love.

Joe continues to explain. “Now, technically, the signing isn’t until next week, because I wanted to give you and Callie a chance to see it for yourselves, but it is under contract to make sure it’s ours….if you want it.”

If…..

There is no if in this situation.

“Joe…..” Tears are burning your eyes, and it’s still hard to comprehend just what he’s saying, but the reality is also setting in as well. “You seriously bought us a house?”

His expression softens, voice lowering as he reminds you. “I told you, I love you, and I want to be with you. Wanna be with Callie.” 

It’s hard to not be choked up in this moment where this man has literally purchased an entire house for you. And not some small 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom starter home in the middle of bumfuck nowhere but a literal mansion, a dream.

Sniffling, you nod to yourself, laughing tearily and reach up to hug him. Joe’s arms are immediately around you, holding your body close to his. “Thank you.” He must have done all of this in under a week, recognized how difficult all of this was on you and wasted no time in speeding up this process to get you what you need. “Thank you so much.”

He’s always there for you when you need him, and you’re not sure how to help him understand how that means the absolute world to you.

Callie runs over to where you’re standing, trying not to be a blubbering mess. Your emotions have been all over the damn place lately. Thankfully, she directs her question to Joe. “can we come visit here when we move to Florida? It’s so fun!”

You give Joe a nod, indicating to him that he should tell her. This may be a moment for all of you, but it’s a special thing you want him to be able to have with Callie. 

“Baby girl….” He kneels down on knee in front of her, gently pulling her closer to him. “This is our house.” She gasps, and you can only imagine the happy smile on his face. “You, me, and mommy, we’re gonna live here.”

“Really?” Her excitement is palpable and stretches across the entire premises. “Forever?”

He chuckles. “As long as you want to live here.” 

Callie suddenly asks, clearly realizing just what this means. “I can paint my room?”

That’s one thing you also know she’s always wanted to do, to paint the bland white walls of her room back at your place. 

Now though….now she can. 

“You can draw on the walls in your room for all I care, baby girl. It’s your room.” He would be that dad, the dad that lets his kid do whatever they want with their space, because it’s their space. 

If only you were that mom.

“Uhh, Joe—”

“And get a puppy!” Your eyes go wide at this. This child really is not taking you seriously, but you’re especially floored when Joe’s ass whispers to her something about talking to you about it.

It’s when Callie starts to run around the backyard, happy and ecstatic, celebrating, that you warn him. 

“You think I’m playing, Joe. Get that lil girl a puppy, and I promise you, you gon be taking Toto on the road with you. She gon be at your side when you do your slow ass walk to the ring. I’m not taking care of no dog.” And you mean that. Callie can give him all the puppy dog eyes—no pun intended—she wants. She’s just not old enough yet.

Of course, Joe tries to sway you, suggesting, “it’ll teach her responsibility.”

A heavy sigh leaves your mouth as you observe Callie spinning in a circle. This child has the energy of the energizer bunny. “We already have one rambunctious child. Let’s just focus on her first, please?”

Your little family of three is more than enough.

It’s everything you need.

This, right here, right now, is all you need.

————

Joe told you he talked with Kaylah about being a bit of your tour guide and helping you and Callie to familiarize yourself with the area while he was gone, but he didn’t mention that Kaylah would literally be coming over that night.

It’s a surprise when you get a call from the front desk asking for permission to buzz Kaylah in, but you don’t hesitate to authorize it, especially when you overhear Ellie’s little voice in the background. 

You know Callie will be thrilled to see her cousin. 

And she definitely is, the two girls making more noise than probably what’s appropriate for an apartment, especially an upscale apartment. But, something tells you even if there is some type of noise complaint, Joe won’t hesitate to dead that shit.

“How are you doing? Really?” Kaylah asks as the two of you sit in Joe’s living room on the sofa as the girls play in the guest bedroom. The TV is on Smackdown, but Joe hasn’t made his appearance yet.

You promised Callie you’d call her when he got on screen, so it’s something you pay attention to.

“I can’t believe she would do that to you, and she was supposed to be your best friend?” Kaylah sounds rightfully disgusted. “You and Callie didn’t deserve that.”

“I have my baby back, so I’m much better now.” And it’s the truth. It’s almost night and day how having Callie back in your custody has completely changed your existence. You can actually bring yourself to do something other than cry, can actually experience emotions other than sadness, and most importantly, you can also keep food down.

There’s still some lingering nausea that you wish would just go away, but it’s tolerable. Much tolerable than the constant vomiting.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave that place. I don’t know if I could stay there either after that.”

“A part of me doesn’t want to go back now.” Even though you’ve only met Kaylah once, there’s something about her that’s comforting and easy to talk to. “I just….even now, it’s like I have this fear that they’re gonna take her from me as soon as I step foot off the plane.”

She reaches over and places her hand on top of yours. “That’s over with now. The judge dismissed everything. You’re okay, girl. Callie’s back home.”

Feeling the wetness on your face alerts you that those damn tears have returned. For someone who hates crying, you’ve sure been doing a lot of it. And you hate it. 

“Thank you, Kaylah.”

She gives you a warm nod and smile. “Oh!” Kaylah reaches over to her purse on the coffee table, digging around before she pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Here. You’ll need this.” Unfolding the paper, she explains, “it’s the info for the doctors and dentists Jon and I use for ourselves and the kids. Ellie especially loves Dr. Pyle. She’s super great with kids, and I absolutely adore my primary and OB-GYN. They’re both fabulous black women who actually listen when you have an issue.”

There’s so many things to consider when moving that it never even crossed your mind yet that you’d need to find a whole new slate of medical providers. Kaylah’s thoughtfulness is so appreciated. “Thank you. I should probably call tomorrow and get those appointments set up now.”

With everything you’ve been through this past week, it’s not a half bad idea to get a check up just to make sure everything is going good internally.

You add that to your to-do list for tomorrow. 

Maybe see the OB-GYN for your women’s wellness exam as well. You’re just about due anyway.

She nods. “Definitely, and I don’t know if you and Joe have talked about schools, but Ellie’s private school is really great.”

Private school….

You’d definitely thought about schools for Callie, but a private school wasn’t really an option as you were factoring in your financial capability. Now though….now that Joe is in the picture, you’re almost certain he would not only want Callie to be in private school vs public school, but he’d pay however much it cost to do so.

You’re not entirely opposed, interestingly enough. Especially since Callie is technically the kid of a celebrity, it might be a good move to keep her in a smaller, more private setting. 

“We haven’t, but I’m sure it's a discussion we’ll have.” You then remember. “Can you also give me the information for the dance academy Ellie goes to? I think I want to see about putting Callie in ballet.” It’s something she’s been wanting for a while, and accepting Joe’s financial generosity is becoming easier when you think about how it can benefit Callie. She deserves all of the happiness in the world.

And you’d much rather her do ballet than finesse her daddy into getting her a dog that’ll eventually be yours.

“Of course! We can actually swing by there tomorrow, so you can get a feel, if you want.” She offers, and it sounds like a great plan. Checking out the school with Joe is also something you make a mental note to discuss with him. Something tells you Kaylah is a good judge of character, but you need to check for yourself. This whole experience has made you that much more protective of your baby girl. “Joe also asked that I take you guys furniture shopping to start furnishing the house.”

At that, you groan and lean your head back against the sofa. “Girl, it’s gon take a minute to furnish that house. It’s so big.”

“It is, but it’s also so beautiful.” She leans closer to you, hand on your forearm. “And you don’t have to do everything at once, just like the master, Callie’s bedroom, the living room. You know, the main rooms.”

“Oh my goodness, I already know Joe is gonna’ have that girls room looking like a damn toy store.” He already mentioned something about knowing someone who does wall art and murals and reaching out to see if they could do a Disney mural in her bedroom. Not that you’re opposed to that. “He already spoils her. Now that we have this big ass house, I know it’s only going to get worse.”

Kaylah makes a sound and shrugs. “Let him. He loves her. He loves being a dad. Let him spoil her. Let him spoil you.”

“I love Joe for a lot of reasons that have nothing to do with his money. I don’t need him to spoil me financially. Other ways though….” Because of everything that’s happened the past week, you’ve had neither the mental or desire to be intimate with Joe. But with Callie returned to you and the litany of other positive things happening in your life, that sex drive is gradually building back up.

A small part of you is wishing that you’d gotten in a ‘quickie’ in the small space of 

‘Callie is sleeping’ time before you went to see the house. Granted, you also know that Joe isn’t a fan of quickies.

If he can’t have you for as long as he wants you, milking out at least 2 to 3 orgasms, he doesn’t want you at all. 

“Girl please, that man is like my brother. I don’t need the visuals.” She laughs, waving her hands in a “please shut up” manner. Giggling, you glance at the TV and see the blue lights flashing around the arena.

Sitting up and angling your body towards the back of the sofa, you make a sound when your chest presses against the cushion of the sofa. Your boobs have been weirdly tender too. Ignoring one of many annoying things about being a woman, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Daddy’s on TV!”

Callie runs in there faster than Usain Bolt, Ellie not too far behind. The girls plop on the living room floor, Callie’s eyes glued to the TV, not wanting to miss a second of it.

Your attention is also glued to the TV, but also elsewhere, even as your fine ass man talks his shit while looking so good doing so. 

You’ve learned a lot in the past week, been through a lot, but one of the major takeaways has been the importance of community. Of family. Alexis has transcended past best friend territory. A best friend doesn’t do what she did, doesn’t take the heat, even if she won’t feel said heat, the way that she did for you.

That’s something a sister would do. 

And while your heart swells at the notion of considering and seeing her as such, having that important conversation with her about what you want her to be in your life moving forward,, it’s also triggered another train of thought.

With change, comes friction, and while that friction can be uncomfortable, it can lead to something beautiful.

Look at you and Joe. Where you started, and where you are now. If you had to, you’d do it all again. It’s just all so worth it. 

So, you decide to pull out your phone as Callie goes crazy seeing Dwayne aka “cousin Maui!” appear on the screen and scroll to your earlier messages. Your thumb hovers over that thread, and there’s a brief moment of hesitation before you decide to power over fear and type out a message

You: hi, bianca. sorry for the delayed response, a lot has happened….  but you’re right. it can end with us. when’s a good time to call you? better yet, can we meet up?

You don’t even bother proofreading it before hitting send, not trusting yourself not to back out.

To say you feel 100% confident with your decision would be an absolute lie. You’re still wary about moving forward, but you owe it to yourself, and Callie, to try. From now on, you only want and need people in your life who want and deserve to be there.

And if…..and if your sister is included in that list, then you owe it to yourself to at least see what happens there.

This is a new season of your life, and you intend to embrace it for all it brings.

[localplaguenurse]

(Puts cracker in your mouth)

I am eating your blind reader right outta the pot and I was struck with a singular thought that hasn’t left my mind

What if when reader bumped into pants he ruined pants’ clothing in some kinda way (spilled drink/smeared ink from hands/food being smeared on etc)

For context: I was brainstorming a future fic starring a blind reader in discord.

You know what? It's not going in the current version so I'm writing this version here. Consider this a part one to the actual fic. (sorry beta)

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader)

Notes: SFW, first meetings, Pantalone's kind of a dick, and so is Reader's dad. Reader has retinitis pigmentosa which is a genetic condition that causes your retinas to deteriorate over time. He has central vision but also experiences night blindness and loss of peripheral vision. Not beta read.

The sounds of merriment echo through the halls of your family estate, the clicks and clacks of your typewriter unable to drown the sound out as you work. The noises grow louder once the band kicks in, and grow louder still once dinner is served. The smell of fresh food does not travel to your study like the music and laughter did, this section of the manor is a little too remote for that, but you know with the chime of the clock on your wall that this is when it should be brought out.

While not an outright demand, your father had advised you wait in your office for a servant to bring you a helping. Your mother protested, saying there were plenty of people who would love to meet her darling sweetheart of a son, there's no need for you to stay cooped up in your study! You gently reassured her that it was fine, really. The deadline for your novel's first draft is coming up soon, so you really should focus on finishing it as soon as you can. Besides, there is some rather elite company attending the party, and you know your father does not want to risk you making a fool of yourself, and also him by association.

Time ticked on, and your stomach growled, breaking the concentration you barely maintained on writing. You look up, right at the spot on the wall where the clock is. While you can't really see the time at this distance, you know the staff should have brought you your helping some time ago. You sigh, and stand.

You don't dislike parties, you think you enjoy them as much as the next person actually. The problem is that you don't like large, crowded parties due to your condition. Your central vision is perfectly fine, but you've been steadily losing your peripheral vision ever since you were little. It's been especially bad the past few years, to the point you will trip over anything that is not directly in front of you, like furniture and people. When your parents throw elaborate parties or host networking events, your father will suggest you stay up in your room or your study (to avoid any blunders as a result of not seeing the millionaire standing right beside you). While you know there is good meaning behind it, it feels isolating, even a little patronizing at times.

Even if the darkness of the hallway renders you completely blind, you've walked down it enough times you do not worry about tripping. Hand on the railing, you make your way down the stairs, and the light of the estate grows brighter with each step you take down. Before you fully descend, you let your eyes scan the room to try and make a mental map of where everyone is to avoid bumping into anyone on your way.

You barely make it to the ground before you feel a familiar presence and smell a familiar blend of cologne and champagne on your right. You're glad you can't see out of the corner of your eyes because you know exactly what face your father is making right now. You know he's not happy to see you downstairs before he even speaks.

"I thought you were working on your manuscript?" he asks, the accusatory tone in his voice on the more subtle side.

You shrug. "I wanted something to eat."

"Colleen was supposed to bring you your food," your father retorts.

"If she did, I wouldn't have come downstairs, would I?"

Your father scoffs. "Look, just go back upstairs, and I'll talk to Colleen."

A second voice chimes in, softer and sweeter. Your mother. "Oh, sweetie!" Her face comes into view, and she seems happy to see you. "Are you done your manuscript already?"

"Colleen didn't bring him his food, apparently," your father says.

Your mom turns her head in the direction of your father's voice. "Dear, Colleen left early, remember? Wasn't feeling well? She said Adelaide was supposed to bring him his food." "That's a lie, I haven't seen Adelaide at all tonight!"

You raise a hand. "Or, or, I'm an adult who knows where the kitchen is and can get my own serving?"

Your mother cups your face in her hands. "No no, we'll get you something, unless you're here to socialize as well? I was just talking to this woman, she has a daughter about your age-"

"I'm just going to get my food," you quickly cut in, "maybe I'll play matchmaker next time, but I just want something to eat and then I'll get back to work."

"Let the staff get it," your father tells you.

You pull away from your mother and turn to glare at your father. "It's fine. I can get it myself."

You step around your parents but feel your mom clasp your arm. "You father just-"

"Doesn't want me bumping into people, I know, and I won't."

You take two steps before your left side slams right into a passing partygoer. You stumble and hit the ground, while whoever you bumped into manages to maintain their footing. Glass breaks, and when you hit the ground you feel wetness soaking the back of your shirt and the front as well. You hear your mother gasp, and the room goes silent. Even the band has paused their playing, and you can feel the eyes of the room on you.

"What is wrong with you?"

While the man's voice is melodic, it only serves to make your face burn hotter with embarrassment. This is why your dad doesn't invite you to join them at parties, you remind yourself. When you do not immediately answer the question, opting to instead push yourself up, the man continues to chastise you.

"Do you have any idea how much this suit cost? How much it's going to cost to have it properly cleaned?"

You roll over so you're sitting up. Red stains your shirt. "Sorry, I-I didn't see you there."

"Clearly! How painfully unobservant do you have to be to not see me coming through? I was right next to you!"

You drag your gaze up the man's body, as he takes up the entirety of your eyesight. Everything he wears looks designer, and as you take in his shoes, his dress pants, you make it to his suit jacket and shirt. He's wearing black with hints of indigos and dark blues, but the wine stain is still very visible on his chest. Your eyes continue, and you see a snarling, but handsome, but still very angry face. You don't recognize him from the long black hair, the glasses with the bedazzled chain, or the shine of his eyes. You recognize him from the pin on his lapel. At this distance you recognize the Fatui symbol, and your face blanches.

You just ran into a Harbinger.

You hear the footsteps of your father approach. "M-Mister Regrator, I am so, so sorry for my son's actions, I-I'm sure that's a very expensive suit and I am deeply sorry."

The Regrator does not take his eyes off of you. "Yes. Very expensive. Expensive even for you."

"I-I swear, I'm sorry," you stammer, "I didn't see you, I really didn't see you there, I-I-"

You feel your father pull you up by the arm. "I already told you to go upstairs."

Pantalone watches as your father drags you away. You only protest a little before accepting defeat as you are pulled up the stairs. He feels the scowl on his face worsen when your mother approaches with the most desperate and pitiful expression he thinks he's ever seen a woman of her standing wear.

"Are you alright, my lord?" she asks timidly.

Pantalone takes a step back as a maid comes over to clean up the broken glass. "I'm fine, thank you."

"I am so sorry about that, if you'd like, w-we can have our staff clean your suit for you."

"This material is incredibly expensive and difficult to thoroughly wash," Pantalone states, "I highly doubt your staff would know how to clean it."

The woman looks down, embarrassed. "A-Ah, I see..." She looks back up at him, her expression somehow more pitiful than before. "Please, forgive my son, it was an accident, truly. H-He didn't see you there."

"Oh, I know," Pantalone replies, grinning harshly at the woman, "I'm just surprised at how unobservant someone can be, it's almost impressive."

The woman bites her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Still, she clears her throat, though she does not meet the Regrator's eyes. "M-My son is going blind."

Somehow the room goes quieter.

Pantalone stares at the woman as the words echo in his mind. He blinks, and his expression dulls a little. "Your son is what?"

"Going blind." She lifts her head up a little bit. "It's a genetic condition, m-my father had it as well. He's been losing his eyesight little by little ever since he was a boy. The doctor at his last appointment s-said he's lost most if not all peripheral vision now."

Pantalone can feel the wine begin to soak through to his shirt now. His eyes scan the room, and the guests are clearly pretending they're not listening to the conversation. He turns to the woman, his voice displeased but noticeably softer. "So the, ah, 'unobservant' assumption..."

"He truly did not see you," the woman reiterates, "I-I can't speak for him, of course, but if he's anything like how my father was at his age, he cannot see anything unless it is directly in front of him."

Pantalone clicks his tongue. "Is that so?"

The woman nods. Silence fills the room for a few moments, and then Pantalone sighs.

"In any case, I have to leave," he says, "I do not have a change of clothes, and I really should have this cleaned as soon as possible."

"A-Apologies again, Lord Pantalone..."

Your mother watches Pantalone as he leaves, praying to any Archon who will hear her plea that perhaps the Regrator will take pity on you on account of your condition. She also mentally curses your father for even inviting the man over. Sure, things have been getting a little shaky financially for your family, but getting buddy-buddy with a Harbinger can't be worth it, can it? They're an unsavoury lot she doesn't want around, especially around you.

Your father is already in a foul mood when he comes back downstairs, having lectured you for literally blindly running into Pantalone. The two had plans to work together, after all, so that spectacle could have completely cost the family any chance at maintaining the dwindling fortune. He becomes more upset with your mother when he finds the Regrator has left already, sparking an argument that finally kills the party, leaving the guests to awkwardly mingle before finally leaving hours before the party is set to end.

Your father does not talk to you for a few days. Your mother offers smiles and reassurance that everything will be fine, but the spats echoing down the hall lead you to believe otherwise. You attempt to tune out the building stress in your household and focus on your work, but it's in vain. In the quiet moments between replacing the paper in the typewriter, or when you cannot figure out how a scene is meant to play out, you briefly picture the Regrator's face and feel your face burn up again. Is it anger? Embarrassment? A little bit of attraction? Yes, probably.

The tension in the house reaches a boiling point when a letter sealed with the Regrator's insignia is delivered to the estate.

"You're paying for the suit, boy," your father snaps, figure barely visible as he paces the drawing room lit only by the fireplace.

"W-We don't know if that's what the letter is," your mother remarks, "and he doesn't have enough to cover for it."

"That's the worst part! We would have to cover the majority of it!"

"Can you just open the fucking envelope?!" you finally snap.

Your father advances towards you from the darkness, suddenly right in front of you. "Don't you speak to me like that when this is your fault!"

Both of you flinch when your mother all but rips the envelope from your father's hands. She steps just out of your line of vision, and you hear the ripping sound of the envelope. After a few moments, she lets out a loud sigh of relief.

"He's apologizing and forgiving us for the misunderstanding," your mother says, "though he, ah, he does want us to split the cleaning costs..." You hear the flutter of paper, and she absentmindedly steps forward as she reads the letter. "Oh, j-just for the shirt. That is... oof, that's still a little much..."

You sigh. "I should have enough money saved. Might have to put off moving out for a little longer, though."

"Oh, don't be so down!" your mother awkwardly laughs. "We don't mind having you here a little longer. It gives me peace of mind knowing you're safe! And there are o better doctors out there than in Snezhnaya!"

Your dad has disappeared out of view, but you can still feel his stare. You don't think he's as thrilled as your mother is, but it's better than him paying the full cost of Pantalone's dry cleaning. You wonder if there's anything in the letter stating if he'll still work with your father, and if that means you'll have to see him again before you eventually move. You hope you never see him out of sheer embarrassment, but a part of you wants to. It would be nice to remember a more cheery expression on his handsome face before the day your central vision finally leaves you.