#I'm trying different warm colours now... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teatoptony · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐬 - p.j

summary; who knew life threatening situations made you reevaluate your love life?

pairing; percy jackson x demigod!fem!reader

word count; 7.5k

warning(s); mild mentions of injury, spoilers for ttc

a/n; i'm guessing you meant the titan's curse? i changed a few things, but i hope this was what you had in mind. if not, feel free to send another request :)

the ending is schist. sorry.

You were on a dark hillside, shrouded in fog. Wisps of haze stuck and clung to your hair and clothes like cat hair, refusing to come off even when you tried to brush it away. Up above, you couldn't see the sky—just a close, heavy darkness, as if you were in a cave. From every direction, the same amount of pressure pushed down on you, like you were hundreds of miles below sea level. The place felt more like a deep-sea cavern than anything.

You felt like you were suffocating.

Thorn was long gone, you could tell. The smell of his disgusting cologne was nowhere to be found. A good thing, you supposed, as it really was rather horrible. On the down side, though, that meant you were completely stranded alone in the middle of nowhere.

"Thorn!" You called. Your own voice made your head pound. Raising a hand up to the back of your head with much more effort than you would like to admit, you felt something warm and sticky matting your hair. You grimaced. "Where are you? Why did you bring me here?"

You waited a minute or two before deciding that you were, in fact, on your own. Standing up only to drop back down, you hissed as you clutched your leg. Looking down at your calf, you gagged. Where one of Thorn's spikes had nicked you, the skin around the cut had turned a greenish-purplish colour, the cut itself scabbing over in a yellow-brown-black mess. He'd said his poison only causes pain; infections were a whole different problem.

You struggled up the hill, trying to reach the top. Maybe you'd be able to see if anything was around here from up high, though you doubted there would be anything for miles around. As you climbed, you vaguely noticed old, broken Greek columns of black marble scattered around, as though something had blasted a huge building to ruins.

Climbing over a section of broken wall, you finally made it to the crest of the hill. What you saw made your heart drop into your shoes.

On the rocky ground lay a boy with messy black hair and a tattered orange Camp Half-Blood shirt. He was crumpled like a soda can, and he seemed to be in pain. The blackness seemed to be thicker around him, the fog swirling hungrily. Squinting your eyes, you could see his eyes screwed shut with the effort of.. well, you couldn't quite tell. Whatever it was, it seemed horrible.

"Percy?" You whispered in shock, making your way toward him. As you walked closer, the air grew thicker and thicker, almost buzzing with electricity and the smell of ozone.

Percy's eyes cracked open when he heard your voice. Then they were wide with panic and relief.

"Y/N!" He called. "Help me! Please!"

You ran forward until you were no more than a few inches away from where he was standing—well, 'standing' is a strong word.. 'trying extremely hard not to be flattened into a Percy pancake' would be more accurate, now that you properly saw the state he was in. His hands were propped up next to his shoulders in an odd manner, like he was trying to hold up something massive and invisible.

Panic jolted into your brain as you registered his words. You reached out to touch his face.. then stopped at the last minute. He looked off; you couldn't tell why. Icy little needles prickled at the back of your neck, sending chills down your spine.

"Please, it's killing me." He said again. You took a step back.

"What happened?" You asked warily. Seeing Percy like this broke your heart, but something just felt wrong.

"They left me here," Percy groaned. You could've sworn his eyes looked almost yellow as he squeezed them shut again. He seemed to be struggling against some invisible curse, as though the fog were squeezing him to death.

Studying him closely again, you shook your head. You were just about to take another couple steps back when Percy's knees buckled. He yelped in surprise and almost toppled, but regained his balance in the last second. His face paled.

In the scarce light, Thalia's pine tree glimmered a soft green hue on one of the beads on his camp necklace. There was no Golden Fleece hanging from its branches.

The darkness above him began to crumble, like a cavern roof in an earthquake. Huge chunks of black rock began falling. You rushed in just as a crack appeared, and the whole ceiling dropped. You held it somehow—tons of rock. You kept it from collapsing on you and Percy just with your own strength. It was impossible. You shouldn't have been able to do that.

Just as the debris stopped falling, Percy rolled free, gasping. "Thanks." He managed. You clenched your jaw to steel yourself.

"Don't just lay there," you groaned.

Percy caught his breath. His face was covered in sweat and grime. He rose unsteadily.

Then, he flickered. Literally. His whole image flickered like the flame of a candle. You would've just brushed it off as something your brain made up from being put in such a stressful situation, but then it happened again. And again. Eventually, Percy flickered away..

..and Luke stood in his place.

"I knew I could count on you." He said, a crooked smirk twisting his face. He reached for his Camp Half-Blood necklace, and you realized there were glowing green runes etched onto every one of the six beads. Magic. Of course.

"Castellan." You spat, almost forgetting about the crushing weight on your shoulders as white-hot anger made your blood boil. "You prick."

"Nice to see you haven't changed," Luke said. He began to walk away as the trembling blackness threatened to pulverize you.

"Help. Me." You gritted your teeth. The words tasted bitter on your tongue. You knew it was no use; you were grasping at straws. But holding up literal tons of rock can make you do weird things.

"Oh, don't worry," Luke said. "Your help is on the way. It's all part of the plan. In the meantime, try not to die."

The ceiling of darkness began to crumble again, pushing you against the ground.

—

It's amazing how one perceives time when holding literal tons of stone.

At first, every second goes by agonizingly slow. Just when you think you're getting used to the weight, the ceiling cracks some more, piling more rocks on top of you until you're nearly squished like a bug. Once that cycle repeats a dozen or so times, you realize that a couple hours have passed, judging by the members of Kronos's army chatting amongst themselves while they stride by. You'd never been more relieved to hear dracanae making dinner plans.

Luke had said your 'help' was coming. You didn't know what poor soul was going to be trapped here next, but you couldn't help but hope they arrived quickly. As much as you didn't want anyone other than Luke to bear this weight, you were certain you'd die if they didn't. Maybe you could take turns once they arrived.

You were tired. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out at any moment. Your bones felt like they were on fire.

In front of you, a throne of black marble had been strategically placed in the shadows so that whoever was sitting on it wasn't really visible unless you got really close. Ugh, villains and their ambiance. It oddly resembled the chair from that one Lincoln statue, albeit a bit smaller in size. Fortunately, you were far enough away from it that you didn't have to look at the ugly face of whoever was on the throne.

Your eyes had been screwed shut for a while when you heard the clanking of chains drawing near. The sound scraped to a stop a couple feet in front of you. You peeled open your eyes to see what was about to go down.

A small girl with auburn hair was shoved forward by a meaty hand. She had chains of celestial bronze binding her hands and feet like some medieval prisoner. Her silvery dress was torn and tattered. Her face and arms were cut in several places, and she was bleeding ichor, the golden blood of the gods.

A goddess?

"How is our mortal guest?" A male voice boomed. Its force made the ground and the boulders on your shoulders vibrate. Your head pounded in protest. You'd compare it to a bass guitar, but that would be offensive to bass guitars.

Luke emerged from the shadows. He ran and knelt beside you, then looked back at the unseen man. "She's fading. We must hurry." You vaguely wished you could bite his hand off.

Hey, he's in range, just under the rocks.

You were tempted to just drop everything and let it crush everyone to death. You decided against it, only because of the goddess in chains. There was no way she'd be able to escape.

"You heard the boy," said the man in the shadows. "Decide!"

Shut up, you thought irritably. The world buzzed with every word he spoke, and you were not a fan of that.

The girl's eyes flashed with anger. You supposed she must have been either a minor goddess or extremely drained, because she didn't seem able to just will the chains to explode or make herself disappear. Maybe the chains prevented her, or some magic about this dark, horrible place.

The goddess looked at you, and her expression changed to concern and outrage. "How dare you torture a maiden like this!"

Maiden? You mused. The ceiling piled more boulders on you, and you almost crumpled, barely regaining your balance in time. Must be Artemis. You decided, groaning weakly. From what you recalled, Artemis was the protector of women. Besides, silver.

"She will die soon," Luke said. "You can save her."

Like you'd care.

"Free my hands," Artemis said.

Don't be stupid, you caught yourself thinking. You thanked the fact that the gods couldn't read minds. Well, most of them, anyway.

Luke strided over to her. He brought out his sword, Backbiter, and broke the goddess's handcuffs in one swift strike. You promised yourself you'd use the damn thing to stick him in the stomach if you ever got the chance.

Artemis ran over to you and took the burden from your shoulders. You collapsed on the ground like a pile of bones. You felt your spine creak as the pressure was taken off of it, and your limbs wouldn't stop trembling. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the bile from rising, but even that took so much effort.

The man in the shadows chuckled. "You are as predictable as you were easy to beat, Artemis." Oh, hey, you were right.

"You surprised me," Artemis said, straining under her burden. "It will not happen again."

"Indeed it will not," the man said. "Now you are out of the way for good! I knew you could not resist helping a young maiden. That is, after all, your specialty, my dear."

Your breathing grew more and more ragged with each word the man spoke. You felt something hot trickle down the back of your neck, leaving chills in its wake. Recalling your head wound from earlier, you grimaced. Had it not patched itself up? How much blood had you lost? Thinking about it made you dizzy.

Artemis groaned. "You know nothing of mercy, you swine."

"On that," the man said, "we can agree. Luke, you may kill the girl now."

Oh, you complete piece of–

Luke hesitated. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "She–she may yet be useful, sir.. Further bait."

"Bah! You truly believe that?"

"Yes, General. They will come for her. I'm sure."

The man considered. "Then the dracaenae can guard her here. Assuming she does not die from her injuries, you may keep her alive until winter solstice. After that, if our sacrifice goes as planned, her life will be meaningless. The lives of all mortals will be meaningless."

Luke gathered up your listless body and carried you away from the goddess. You would have stabbed him, but you weren't in any state to do much more than breathe, and even that was a bit of a struggle.

"You will never find the monster you seek," Artemis said. "Your plan will fail."

"How little you know, my young goddess," the man in the shadows said. "Even now, your darling attendants begin their quest to find you. They shall play directly into my hands. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a long journey to make. We must greet your Hunters and make sure their quest is… challenging."

A sudden surge of annoyance flooded your brain. It was always like this, wasn't it? The 'bad guy' knew everything while your friends had to wander, dealing with every freakshow that sprung up on the way. It wasn't fair.

The man's laughter echoed in the darkness, shaking the ground until it seemed the whole cavern ceiling would collapse. You suddenly sympathized with how Zeus must have felt when Athena was banging on his skull, demanding to be let out. It felt like you had a goddess trapped up there. You wished someone would take an axe to it. Not like anyone here would have much aversion to that.

Luke took you a little while away from where Artemis was. Among the ruins, there was a semi-intact room with about two or three walls, depending on how tall you considered a wall to be. He placed you with your back against one of them. You glared at him from where you sat.

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped.

"Rot in Tartarus." You replied. Surprisingly, your voice worked. It sounded like metal against metal, but it worked.

Luke rolled his eyes. Then, his expression softened, just a little. "The gods are using you," he said bitterly. You rolled your eyes. Not this again. "Do you honestly think they care what happens to you?"

"I don't give a flying fuck what the gods care about," you said. Luke raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. "I care about my friends. I care about my life. You know, all the things you used to have before you stabbed us in the back and ran away."

With a bit of effort, you turned your head and spat on the ground. "Coward." You muttered, your hand wiping your face to get rid of all the grime. It didn't do much other than smudge it, really. "Couldn't even face us after your little stunt."

You could tell he was just itching to draw his sword from the way his hand twitched. You smirked. He was just too easy to rile up.

"I could kill you, here and now." He threatened. Geez, his villain talk needed some work.

"Go for it." You said, turning your head to look him in the eye again. Seeing the scar under his right, you cursed whatever dragon had caused it for not taking out his entire eyeball. Luke's expression changed from anger to irritation as he took a step back.

"I don't have to deal with you right now.." He muttered, turning away and walking off. Half a dozen dracanae came up from behind you, four of them taking positions on your left, right, and center while the other two continuously slithered in circles around you.

"Turn tail and run," you jeered. It was quiet, but it was enough to make him hear you, from the looks of it. His posture stiffened as the words left your tongue, making him seem rather huffy as he marched out of sight.

When the top of Luke's head disappeared, you felt all the strength leave your body. Your need to poke and prod at him had been the only reason you'd even been able to talk, you were sure. Your eyelids felt heavier than the cave ceiling. It wouldn't hurt to just close them for a moment or two..

You slept like the dead.

—

Surprisingly, it wasn't all that long until Percy came around, simply because the days blended into one. The sun never rose here, which meant your biological clock was the only thing that told you what time it could possibly be. The dracanae assigned to be your guards—three batches of six, from what you could tell by some of their features—weren't really the chattiest of their kind.

Your head wound had turned crusty and gross during the time you were kept here. Your calf wasn't in much better condition. You were shivering most of the time, cold sweat drenching your clothes and making them feel uncomfortable and disgusting to be in. The world spun without any prompts now.

You were messing with your roughly once-a-day rations when Luke came to grab you. It was the first time you'd seen him since he left you here. He looked paler and weaker than the first time you'd seen him here, and that was impressive considering he had just gotten out of getting crushed to death back then. Even in your condition, you had no doubt you could have taken him if the guards weren't here. Maybe if you had your weapon...

Despite that, he had a smug smirk on his face that you would've loved to slap off.

"Get up," he ordered. You pointed at your tray.

"I'm not done with my slop." You replied. In truth, you'd never touch the stuff, maybe taking one or two glops out of it just to keep yourself alive before lobbing the rest at your guards.

Luke snapped his fingers at the dracanae. Two of them slid over to either side of you and harshly lifted you up by each of your arms. You let out a disgruntled groan. The slop you'd just choked down threatened to make a reappearance as everything turned blurry and twisty. You tried not to sway on your feet.

"I said, get. Up." He sneered. You made a face at him in return.

"Fine." You snapped. You pulled your arms out of the snake women's grasp, only for Luke to cuff your hands behind your back. You opened your mouth to complain, but he stuffed a gag in it. You felt like you were about to hurl. The thing tasted like sandpaper and mouldy gym socks.

He dragged you alongside him, walking—well, limping, in your case—downhill and circling the lower points before climbing his way back up. There, he joined half a dozen dracaenae bearing the golden sarcophagus of Kronos and a hulking man in a brown silk suit. You supposed this was the one who'd been sitting on the throne when Artemis was brought in. You waited for your vision to clear a bit before taking note of his appearance.

His skin was light brown, and his dark hair was slicked back in a (in your opinion) rather wet-dog-like fashion. He had a regal expression; a cold, proud look in his grey eyes, like a CEO who ran one of those huge companies that were responsible for the ice caps melting.

"My lady!" Someone cried at the top of the hill. The Hulk-man gestured with his hand for his forces to follow him up the hill. Ugh, villains and their grand entrances, too.

Luke pushed you forward as he unsheathed Backbiter. Once you reached the crest of the hill, he pointed the blade at your neck.

From here, you could see a small group of people who were definitely not a part of Kronos's army. There was Percy, Thalia, and another girl who was kneeling at Artemis's side. You grimaced. None of them looked like they were in much of a shape to fight. Especially the new girl—you could see the dark colour of blood soaking through her silvery clothes. The getup looked somewhat familiar.. where had you seen that before? Her skin, which you assumed under better circumstances would be a coppery brown, was slowly being bleached.

"Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now." Artemis groaned. Her voice was strained. She was drenched in sweat. The ceiling threatened to pile more rocks on her as one or two new cracks appeared.

Despite the goddess's warning, the girl tugged stubbornly at her chains. Of course, they didn't budge. You could see she was trembling, but whether that was from the blood loss or from crying, you weren't too sure. She really needed a medic.

"Ah, how touching." Hulk-man said.

Points for a moderate opening line, I guess.

The three turned around. Percy and Thalia raised their weapons as New Girl opted to position herself between Artemis and Hulk-man. Ah, must be a Hunter. You'd seen the pamphlet Annabeth had.

Your eyes met Percy's as he scanned the crowd. When he took in what was going on, the look of anger that took over his features was like nothing you'd seen before on him. The boy looked just about ready to commit war crimes.

As touching as that was, all you wanted was for him to get the hell out of here. Hulk-man, as much as calling him that made him sound ridiculous, wasn't one to be taken lightly, you could tell.

"Luke," Thalia snarled. "Let her go."

Luke smiled thinly. "That is the General's decision, Thalia. But it's good to see you again." He said. Thalia looked like she was ready to murder him, which she probably was. Honestly, same.

Thalia spat at him. The gag stifled your laugh. Luke rolled his eyes and pressed the blade of his sword harder against your throat. You tried not to wince as it cut shallowly through your skin. You could just see Percy's grip tightening on Riptide.

Hulk-man—'The General', whatever—chuckled. "So much for old friends. And you, Zoë. It's been a long time. How is my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you."

New Girl—whom you could only assume was Zoë—clenched her jaw. Her face was pale, and she didn't look like she was in a much better condition than Luke, which was saying something. Huh, she and the General looked kinda similar..

"Do not respond," Artemis groaned. "Do not challenge him."

"Wait a second," Percy said. "You're Atlas?"

Ah. Oh. Wait—what?

The General glanced at him. "So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the general of the Titans and terror of the gods. Congratulations. I will kill you presently, as soon as I deal with this wretched girl."

"You're not going to hurt Zoë." Percy said. "I won't let you."

The General sneered. "You have no right to interfere, little hero. This is a family matter."

Percy frowned. "A family matter?"

"Yes," Zoë said bleakly. "Atlas is my father."

Percy's eyes flickered between Zoë and Atlas, taking in the new information. It was easy to see the family resemblance, even if one of them was an evil titan overlord and another was a Hunter of Artemis. His frown deepened as he made the same connections.

"Let Artemis go," Zoë demanded. She struggled to her feet, the look in her eyes so close yet so different from Atlas's.

Atlas walked closer to the chained goddess. "Perhaps you'd like to take the sky for her, then? Be my guest."

No, no, no, no, no. You thought. Look at the state you're in. You'll die.

Zoë opened her mouth to speak, but Artemis said, "No! Do not offer, Zoë! I forbid you."

Atlas smirked. He knelt next to Artemis and tried to touch her face, but the goddess bit at him, almost taking off his fingers. Pity, if only he were slower.

"Hoo-hoo," Atlas chuckled. "You see, daughter? Lady Artemis likes her new job. I think I will have all the Olympians take turns carrying my burden, once Lord Kronos rules again, and this is the center of our palace. It will teach those weaklings some humility."

Percy looked at you. Your eyes flickered between his and Zoë's bow. In situations like these, your philosophy was simple: first move, first kill. Whoever took the first shot was going to result the first casualty, and you hoped your friends were smart enough to know that by now.

Atlas was in a somewhat vulnerable position. If Zoë fired now, he'd have to take a second to stand. You bet it would take Luke by surprise, too. After all, if she was Atlas's daughter, she must be thousands of years old, with that much experience.

Take. A. Shot.

Percy just stood there, staring at you. His eyes lingered on the top of your head. Thalia muttered something to him that you didn't quite catch. Geez, was the wound really that bad? Could he even see it from there?

As if on cue, you stumbled, suddenly feeling like you were standing on a surfing board. You hissed weakly as the movement made Luke's sword slip across your neck. A trickle of blood slowly made its way down to your shirt.

"I don't understand," Percy said. His voice was slightly forced. "Why can't Artemis just let go of the sky?"

Atlas laughed. Ugh, shut up. The sound made your head pound even more than before. "How little you understand, young one. This is the point where the sky and the earth first met, where Ouranos and Gaia first brought forth their mighty children, the Titans. The sky still yearns to embrace the earth. Someone must hold it at bay, or else it would crush down upon this place, instantly flattening the mountain and everything within a hundred leagues. Once you have taken the burden, there is no escape." Atlas smiled. "Unless someone else takes it from you."

He approached Percy and Thalia, studying them. His back was turned to Zoë. Take a shot. "So these are the best heroes of the age, eh? Not much of a challenge."

"Fight us," he said. "And let's see."

"Have the gods taught you nothing? An immortal does not fight a mere mortal directly. It is beneath our dignity. I will have Luke crush you instead."

Luke looks like he'd fall over if you looked at him too hard, you thought. Then you internally groaned at yourself for being held hostage by him in that state. Ugh, being helpless felt gross.

"So you're another coward," Percy said.

Atlas stiffened. You were sure he would've punched Percy straight in the head if he wasn't so prideful. With difficulty, he turned his attention to Thalia.

"As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you." He said smoothly, although you could hear the clear irritation in his voice.

"I wasn't wrong," Luke managed. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that he somehow looked even worse than he did just a couple moments ago. Beads of sweat made their way down his forehead (ew), and he spoke every word as if it were painful. You thanked whatever was the reason for his pain. "Thalia, you can still join us. Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!"

He waved his hand, and next to Thalia, a pool of water appeared: a pond ringed in black marble, big enough for a small seal. Percy took one look at it, then stared for a few moments like he was in a trance. He then shook his head a little and looked back at you with a rather stupid, blank look on his face. He looked like he'd broken his brain by thinking too hard, an expression you knew all too well from sitting next to him in English Lit.

"Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus," Luke persisted. "And you will be more powerful than the gods."

"Luke…" Her voice was full of pain. "What happened to you?"

"Don't you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods? Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!"

Like the Titans were going to be any better. Could he not see that he'd be dead as soon as Kronos rose to the throne?

Thalia shook her head. "Free Y/N. Let her go."

"If you join me," Luke promised, "it can be like old times. Annabeth will see our side eventually. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don't agree…"

His voice faltered. "It's my last chance. He will use the other way if you don't agree. Please."

Okay, so maybe he did realize his life was in danger here. You weren't sure what he meant, but the fear in his voice sounded real enough. For one reason or another, his life depended on Thalia's joining his cause. You, for one, couldn't bring yourself to care about him after everything he'd done. You were afraid Thalia might, though.

"Do not, Thalia," Zoë warned. "We must fight them."

Luke waved his hand again, and a fire appeared. A bronze brazier, just like the one at camp. A sacrificial flame.

"Thalia," Percy said. "No."

You held your breath. Whatever they were talking about, it was clear you were out of the loop. But one thing was for sure—Luke, and by extension Kronos, desperately wanted Thalia to summon this Ophiotaurus thing, which meant you had to hope desperately that she wouldn't.

Behind you, a quiet, high-pitched humming noise grew louder as the air grew warmer. You saw a golden light cast on the boulders, presumably from Kronos's sarcophagus. As it did, you saw images in the mist all around you: black marble walls rising, the ruins becoming whole, a terrible and beautiful palace rising around you, made of fear and shadow.

"We will raise Mount Othrys right here," Luke promised, in a voice so strained it was hardly his. "Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia. We are not weak."

Debatable.

He pointed toward the ocean, and Percy's expression turned into one of slight horror. With the whole being held at swordpoint and all, you couldn't look at whatever it was he was so afraid of, but it must have been horrible if it scared Percy like that.

"This is only a taste of what is to come," Luke said. "Soon we will be ready to storm Camp Half-Blood. And after that, Olympus itself. All we need is your help."

For a terrible moment, Thalia hesitated. She gazed at Luke, her eyes full of pain, as if the only thing she wanted in the world was to believe him. Then she leveled her spear. "You aren't Luke. I don't know you anymore."

"Yes, you do, Thalia," he pleaded. "Please. Don't make me… Don't make him destroy you."

Percy looked back at you. You nodded slightly, hoping he'd get the message already. He then looked to Thalia and Zoë, as if he were steeling himself for the fight to come.

"Now," he said.

Together, they charged.

Thalia went straight for Luke. The hideous face of Medusa glared at you as she ran, making you stand frozen in fear. Behind you, you heard panicked hissing and a loud thump as the dracanae ran away.

Despite his sickly appearance, Luke was still quick with his sword. He snarled like a wild animal and counterattacked. When his sword, Backbiter, met Thalia's shield, a ball of lightning erupted between them, frying the air with yellow tendrils of power.

As Backbiter left your throat, you did the least heroic thing you could think of.

You ran.

Tucking yourself behind a large boulder, you tried to wait out the battle. In your current state, you'd be a liability rather than an asset. From this new position, you could see wave after wave of monsters marching from the Princess Andromeda and up the mountain.

You hated that you could do nothing but hope that your friends would make it out alive. Preferably before the army reached the top.

"Die, little hero," Atlas said. You had a feeling he was talking about Percy. Your heart dropped a hundred miles below.

Screw this. You had to do something. Now.

Finding a jagged spot in the boulder you were hiding behind, you maneuvered yourself into a position where you could somehow strike your hands downward and theoretically break your cuffs on the rock. Assuming they weren't made of celestial bronze, that is. After about three tries and one painful miscalculation, the chain finally broke, and you ripped the gag from your mouth, spitting to get rid of the taste.

When you peered around the boulder, the fight was complete mayhem. There was Atlas in full battle armor, jabbing with his javelin, laughing insanely as he fought. And a blur of silver—Artemis?

She had two wicked hunting knives, each as long as her arm, and she slashed wildly at the Titan, dodging and leaping with unbelievable grace. She seemed to change form as she maneuvered. She was a tiger, a gazelle, a bear, a falcon. Or perhaps that was just your fevered brain.

Zoë shot arrows at her father, aiming for the chinks in his armor. He roared in pain each time one found its mark, but they affected him like bee stings. He just got madder and kept fighting.

Wait, if Artemis was out fighting...

Who was holding the sky?

Where was Percy?

Looking over to the dreaded spot, you saw Percy trying not to get crushed under the weight of the sky. His eyes were screwed shut, concentrating on anything and everything but the burden on his shoulders. Right before your eyes, you could've sworn a lock of his hair was turning grey.

Oh, hell no.

Not really thinking, you streaked across the battlefield with surprising speed. Rolling under arrows and narrowly avoiding Atlas's javeline once, you reached Percy, who was about to pass out. You rolled under the boulders—which you now saw were actually dark, heavy clouds—and braced yourself on your good leg, kneeling down. Reaching up with your hands, you took the sky once again.

Every cell in your body screamed in protest. The pounding in your head was worse than what Zeus felt in Athena's origin story; you were sure of it. You felt like the vertebrae in your spine were being welded together by a blowtorch.

Fortunately, though, two people holding the sky was evidently easier than doing it alone.

"What the–" You vaguely heard Percy say. He was cut off by a blood-curdling scream. You managed to open your eyes and saw Zoë leap between her father and Artemis, shooting an arrow straight into the Titan's forehead, where it lodged like a unicorn's horn. Atlas bellowed in rage. He swept aside his daughter with the back of his hand, sending her flying into the black rocks.

"Zoë!" Percy shouted. He looked frantically between you and the direction she flew. As much as he wanted to go help her, he didn't try to move, afraid you wouldn't be able to handle the full burden of the sky.

The cold weight of dread settled in your stomach. Zoë didn't get back up.

Then Atlas turned on Artemis with a look of triumph on his face.

Artemis seemed to be wounded. She didn't get up.

"The first blood in a new war," Atlas gloated. And he stabbed downward.

Just then, a voice spoke in your head. Get ready, Artemis told you. You realized she was leading Atlas closer to where you knelt. With great difficulty, you turned your head to meet Percy's eyes. You could tell Artemis had told him the same thing.

"Go." You said, your voice strained. You tried to tell him the goddess's plan, but your voice wouldn't work anymore, so instead you looked frantically between Atlas and the sky. Percy hesitated for a split second before ducking and rolling out from under the clouds.

As fast as thought, Artemis grabbed Atlas's javelin shaft. It hit the earth right next to her and she pulled backward, using the javelin like a lever, kicking the Titan Lord and sending him flying over her.

You saw him coming down on top of you, and you loosened your grip on the sky. And as Atlas slammed into you, you didn't try to hold on. You let yourself be pushed out of the way and rolled for all you were worth.

The weight of the sky dropped onto Atlas's back, almost smashing him flat until he managed to get to his knees, struggling to get out from under the crushing weight of the sky. But it was too late.

"Noooooo!" He bellowed so hard it shook the mountain. "Not again!"

Atlas was trapped under his old burden.

As for you, you didn't try to stand. Odd as it was, you could feel no part of your body and every single atom at the same time. You felt like you were literally burning up. Your head felt like someone was taking a dull axe to it over, and over, and over. Your leg felt like it was poisoned all over again.

After that, you don't remember much else. Hard to when you're unconscious.

—

Things were kinda hazy after that. You faintly remember waking up on a marble floor, a good-looking guy with a perfect tan and gold curls leaning over you. You thought it was Will, but this guy looked a lot older, and more golden, somehow.

"There you go, kid," he said, smiling widely at someone next to you. His teeth were so white, you were surprised it didn't make your head hurt worse. Wait.. did it even hurt at all? "God of medicine, at your service."

"Thanks." You heard Percy's voice mutter. He sounded relieved, but there was a bit of a point to his tone. Golden Guy—Apollo, you assumed—smirked knowingly and stood up, teleporting out of sight.

"Now for the Ophiotaurus," a voice said. Maybe Artemis. You fell asleep before you could hear much more of the conversation.

—

The next time you woke up, it lasted a lot longer. The familiar scent of the infirmary prompted you to open your eyes. When you did, the sight made you let out a breathless laugh. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting warm sunlight in patterns across the white sheets of the bed. On the windowsill, a small collection of potted plants sprouted soft green shoots.

When you tried to move your hand, you found that a slight weight held it down. Someone took a sharp breath, and their fingers tightened around your hand.

"Oh, you're awake." Percy said. You sat up. His face looked a mess. A couple scars here and there and some bruises (all covered in some sort of balm), plus dark circles like he hadn't had a proper sleep in days. His shoulders sagged as he scanned yours. "Thank the gods."

You must have looked confused, because he straightened up and started explaining everything that had happened at the mountain, then at Olympus. Mr. Chase was, surprisingly, not that bad. Something about Artemis's Santa Claus sleigh. Zoë had passed on. Apparently, you were an expert pegasus rider in your sleep. Golden Guy was, in fact, Apollo—though Percy seemed a bit miffed when you called him that—and was the one who had healed you before you came back to Camp. Will had still insisted you stayed in the infirmary for a day or two so that he could check on you to make sure you were alright.

"You really had me scared, you know?" He said, his cheeks growing red. "You were so dumb, taking the sky when you were like that. I had it."

"Yeah, sure you did, Ariel." You snorted. Then you squinted at him. "Your hair's grey," you informed.

"So's yours," Percy rolled his eyes. "Dude, I was scared you were gonna die on me, and the first thing you say is that my hair's grey?"

"Well it is," you simply said. He let out an exasperated sigh, and you put a finger on his forehead to push his head up. "You didn't have anything to worry about. Not gonna get rid of me that easily, Jackson."

He laughed, but then trailed off. He fiddled with your fingers a bit. You felt your ears grow warm as you realized he was still holding your hand.

"Seriously though... I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if you were gone because I let you take all of it. The sky."

"Yeah, well, I'm still here." You said softly. He smiled a little.

He took a breath, then paused, as if deciding whether or not to say what he was thinking out loud. "You know why I was so scared?"

"Because you thought your best friend was about to die?"

"No." He said. Then he quickly backtracked, "well, yeah, but not just that. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to tell you..."

He took another breath.

"I like you. Like, like-like you. A lot, actually."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Wait, what?" You asked, dumbfounded. Your face flushed as his sea green eyes met yours, suddenly very interested in the linen sheets of your cot.

"I've been in love with you since we were kids," Percy chuckled. "I used to make my mom pick out my clothes when we went to your place so that I'd look good."

If your face wasn't red before, it certainly was now. You grabbed Percy's hand in yours a little tighter and laughed. "You know, I used to make you watch all those Disney movies so that you'd kinda get the hint that I liked you," you mused. Percy perked up. "All the girl-gets-the-guy stuff. Now I kinda figure, I should've made you play Barbie and Ken with me instead."

"What, make me Ken?"

"Nah. You'd be Barbie." You laughed at his expression. He huffed as if he found the idea nuts. "I'd be Ken. We'd be married, maybe have a horse."

"A horse?"

"Hey, I lost all the tiny Barbie puppies!"

"Well," he chuckled. You could've sworn his eyes sparkled. "In that case, you'll be happy to know, since we were kids, I planned to marry you someday."

"Oh yeah?" He hummed in confirmation. "What did it look like?"

"I dunno. Like the first thing that pops up when you type 'wedding' on Google."

"Wow. Way to be generic, Perce." You deadpanned. He punched your arm lightly.

"Hey, I was like six!" He said defensively.

A light quiet settled over the two of you as you looked down, avoiding Percy's expectant stare and fiddling with his fingers instead. He had that stupid grin on his face, which you'd come to adore over the years you'd known him.

"So..what now?" You asked, slowly lifting your gaze to meet his. His face flushed, and this time, it was he who turned away. He muttered something under his breath—a prayer?—and looked back at you. He looked like he wanted to run away.

"D'you want to go to the fireworks with me? Like, as a date?" He asked. You giggled.

"That's like, six months away." You laughed. He shrugged.

"Yeah. I need six months to get ready, obviously." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, obviously. My bad." You held back your laughter long enough to accept. "I'd love to go with you."

Percy was just about to say more when Will burst out of the 'doctor's office'. The boy stood up so suddenly that he almost knocked his chair over. Will walked over and shooed Percy away.

"Yeah, yeah, we all like each other. Can you please let me work now?" He said, and Percy's ears burned bright red. He muttered a quick see you later and practically ran out of the infirmary.

"We thought he'd never tell you," Will commented, checking the back of your head.

"We?"

"Uh, probably, what, half the camp? Maybe more," he said absentmindedly. Giving you a once-over, he nodded to himself in satisfaction. "Dad did a good job on you."

He gave you the go-ahead a minute or two later. As you walked out the door, you saw Percy talking animatedly to Annabeth near the volleyball court, his back towards you. The blonde had an amused smile on her face, and when she noticed you, she put her hands on Percy's shoulders and spun him around. Catching your eye, the boy gave you a small wave and a smile. You waved back, a grin of your own on your lips.

With his slight blush and bright eyes, it was hard to believe a doomsday prophecy was in his hands.

The end of the world never felt so far away.

#percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson books #pjo imagine #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n

2K notes · View notes

pitinthelanepages · 11 months

Text

Scouts Honour

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: having to deal with drunk boyfriend oscar as the not so girly girlfriend who was in the middle of trying on a dress

genre: fluff

The sun began its descent, casting a warm golden glow that illuminated the room in a gentle radiance. You stood in front of the full-length mirror in your modest yet cosy apartment, a hint of uncertainty tugging at you as you held a delicate dress in your hands.

Your wardrobe predominantly consisted of hoodies, loose-fitting trousers, and comfortable sneakers. But today was different. Today, you had dared to venture into uncharted territory; an elegant dress you had impulsively bought. Its fabric, a silky cascade of midnight blue, shimmered with a touch of moonlit enchantment. You couldn't resist imagining yourself stepping into a world of elegance and grace.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, you gingerly slipped into the dress, its smooth texture gliding against your skin like a whisper. You studied your reflection, the dress clinging to your figure, hugging curves you often concealed. The woman in the mirror looked foreign, yet undeniably radiant, your tousled hair adding a touch of untamed beauty to the overall ensemble.

Just as you were beginning to embrace this unfamiliar sight, your phone rang, jolting you from your reverie. You glanced at the screen, recognizing the caller ID: a group of friends who frequented the same club as your boyfriend, Oscar Piastri. Curiosity mingled with concern as you answered the call, their voices pouring through the receiver.

"Hey. It's us," one of the friends chimed, their words accompanied by a mix of laughter and urgency. "Oscar's had a bit too much to drink, and we need you to come pick him up. Can you make it?"

Your heart skipped a beat as a whirlwind of emotions surged within you; worry for Oscar's well-being, a sense of responsibility, and the need to be there for him. Without hesitation, you replied, your voice steady despite the slight tremor beneath the surface.

"Of course, I'll be there. Give me a few minutes, and I'll head over."

As you hung up the phone, your mind raced. You had no time to change out of the dress, to revert to your usual attire that would blend seamlessly with your usual identity. But there was no turning back now. You took a deep breath, summoning the courage to embrace this unexpected turn of events.

With newfound determination, you slipped on a pair of simple yet elegant heels, their presence a stark contrast to your typical footwear choices. You grabbed your keys, pausing for a brief moment to study your reflection once more. Your pulse quickened as you admired the reflection of the woman standing before you; someone both familiar and unknown, bridging the gap between your usual spirit and the allure of femininity.

As you arrived at the club, the rhythmic pulse of music reverberated through the air, sending tremors of anticipation cascading down your spine. You made your way through the crowd, navigating the sea of bodies, each step echoing the beat of your heart. And then, there he was.

Your eyes met, and an undeniable spark danced between you. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Oscar's surprise and shyness in his gaze. He looked at you with a newfound appreciation, as if seeing you in a whole new light. You couldn't help but feel a blush creep onto your cheeks.

Approaching Oscar and his friends, your voice rang out, laced with a playful yet confident tone. "Hey there, troublemaker. Ready to go home?"

Oscar's friends exchanged amused glances, nudging him gently as they handed him over to you. His shyness grew apparent as he tried to hide behind them, a hint of bashfulness colouring his features. You couldn't help, but find him utterly endearing.

Gently, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm, a gentle reassurance amidst the crowd. "It's me, Oscar. Your girlfriend. I'm here to take care of you."

In that moment, Oscar's eyes lit up, and a warmth enveloped him. He pulled you into a tight embrace, refusing to let go. His grip conveyed a mixture of vulnerability and adoration, a silent gratitude for your presence.

As you wrapped your arm around Oscar's waist, you could feel the weight of his head resting against your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your neck.

Oscar's voice slurred as he mumbled, "You're so pretty. I've never seen you in a dress before."

You chuckled softly, your voice tinged with affection. "Well, surprises are good, aren't they? Thought I'd switch things up tonight."

Oscar's fingers traced gentle circles on your back, his touch igniting a cascade of sensations within you. "You look amazing, babe. Can't take my eyes off you."

Your cheeks flushed as you replied, "You're just saying that because you've had a few drinks."

"Nah, it's true," Oscar insisted, his voice filled with earnestness. "You're like a beautiful dream come true."

With each giggle that escaped your lips, a delicate melody of joy filled the air. The sound was contagious, eliciting smiles from bystanders and lightening the heavy atmosphere. You couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the sight of Oscar, his shy yet adoring gaze fixed upon you.

You whispered playfully, "What's gotten into you, Oscar? I've never seen you so shy."

He chuckled softly, the sound tinged with embarrassment. "Guess you just caught me off guard, seeing you all dolled up like this. Didn't know my tomboyish girlfriend could look so stunning."

You emerged from the club's entrance into the cool night air. The touch of Oscar's fingers against your back, as if seeking solace in your presence, resonated deeply within you.

Oscar's voice carried a hint of vulnerability. "Thank you for being here for me. I feel safe with you."

Your grip tightened, your voice filled with warmth. "Always, Oscar. That's what partners do. We take care of each other."

As you finally reached the car, you gently guided Oscar into the passenger seat, his clinginess not relenting. You settled in behind the wheel, your fingers brushing against his cheek in a tender gesture before starting the engine. The touch of your fingers interlaced on the gear shift filled the car with warmth.

Oscar's voice was soft, almost childlike. "Don't let go of me. I don't want this night to end."

You smiled, your voice filled with reassurance. "I won't, Oscar. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

And as you drove towards Oscar's apartment, the quiet hum of the engine providing a soothing backdrop, you couldn't help but steal glances at him. His head leaned against the window, his eyes drifting in and out of focus. It was evident that the alcohol had taken its toll on him, and your heart swelled with a mix of tenderness and concern.

Once you arrived at his apartment building, you helped Oscar out of the car, his unsteady steps mirroring the vulnerability he exhibited. You both slowly made your way to his apartment, you supporting him every step of the way, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst the haze of intoxication.

Finally inside, you guided Oscar towards his bedroom, your movements unhurried and filled with a sense of care. You eased him down onto the edge of the bed, his legs dangling off the side. His gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes reflecting a deep admiration that made your heart flutter.

Bashfully, you averted your eyes, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Oscar, you should really get some rest. I'll help you get ready for bed."

Oscar's grip tightened around your wrist, his gaze still intense. "Don't leave. Stay with me."

Your cheeks flushed, and you could feel your pulse quicken at his words. You swallowed nervously, voice barely above a whisper. "I... I can't stay the whole night. But I'll make sure you're comfortable before I go."

Oscar reluctantly released his hold on your wrist as you crouched down to untie his shoes. You carefully slipped them off, placing them neatly beside the bed. Then, you stood up, your eyes meeting Oscar's once more.

"You should take off your shirt too, Oscar," you suggested softly. "You'll sleep more comfortably without it."

Oscar's gaze never wavered as he nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Okay, but only if you stay with me."

You rolled your eyes playfully, a mixture of shyness and affection colouring your expression. "Fine, but no staring this time."

With a mischievous grin, Oscar lied down on the bed, watching intently as you pulled the duvet over him, ensuring he was snug and warm. You lingered for a moment, your hand brushing gently against his cheek, your touch tender and reassuring.

Just as you were about to turn off the bedside lamp, Oscar's hand shot out, clasping around your wrist. His gaze held a silent plea, an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. Your voice caught in your throat, your eyes widening slightly.

"Oscar, I really have to go now," you stammered, your shyness evident in your tone. "I can't sleep in this dress."

A mischievous twinkle flickered in Oscar's eyes as he chuckled softly. "Well, you can borrow one of my shirts. It'll be oversized for you anyway, and you'll be more comfortable."

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating his offer. The thought of wearing one of Oscar's shirts felt strangely intimate, like borrowing a piece of his world. But as your gaze met his, the genuine affection in his eyes, you made up your mind.

"Alright," you finally replied, your voice filled with a mix of shyness and trust. "But you have to close your eyes. No peeking."

Oscar grinned mischievously, closing his eyes obediently. You turned towards his wardrobe, searching for a shirt that would fit your frame. You found a white shirt, soft and well-worn, with the faint scent of Oscar's cologne lingering on the fabric.

As you slipped off your dress and replaced it with his shirt, you couldn't help but feel a surge of vulnerability. The shirt engulfed you, the sleeves extending past your fingertips, the hem falling to your mid-thigh. It was an intimate gesture, an exchange of comfort and trust between them.

With a quick glance at Oscar, your cheeks reddened as you mumbled, "I'm changing here, but you better keep your eyes closed."

Oscar's lips curled into a playful grin as he responded, "Scouts honour. Not peeking."

Once you were dressed, you turned off the bedside lamp, casting the room into a soft, dim glow. With a playful roll of your eyes, you returned to the bed, slipping beneath the covers. You settled beside Oscar, your bodies inches apart.

As you closed your eyes, ready to drift into sleep, a gentle whisper escaped your lips. "Goodnight, Oscar."

His hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he replied softly, "Goodnight, babe. Thank you for taking care of me."

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 writing #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri scenario #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fanfic

1K notes · View notes

minhosimthings · 5 months

Text

Impatient details || 18+

Synopsis: You just couldn't wait as Hyunjin kept you waiting to finish his portrait of his most favourite muse.

Pairings: Hyunjin × fem!reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, Fingering, masturbation, degradation, swearing, Hyunjin calls reader 'darling' and 'my muse', unprotected sex (don't do it absolutely not), Hyunnie cums inside of reader, overstimulation, dacryphillia, art studio sex let's gaur, it's a bit fluffy at the end

A/N: y'all I can't do this I'm SAUR HORNY RIGHT NOW DAMN THIS PERIOD. I really needed Hyunnie cause man is literally looking like a Greek God in that silver hair (although he has dark hair in this drabble). So this concludes my very first Hyunjin smut! Yay to my dumb brain for working.

Muses are such pretty little things aren't they? Oh to be a muse. To be dancing under the bloodlust stars with a person who considers you their entire universe. To be staying still and laughing in courtish conversation as he imprinted your figure against yet another canvas, in the same yet different shades of captivating colours.

"Hyunjin-" you dropped your arm from your waist, "-my arm fell asleep again." Always the artist, never the muse, changed when you met Hyunjin. Now, you were forever gracefully stuck as the starry eyes muse, remembered in reds and blues. "Hyunjin how much longer?" You whined to Hyunjin, who whisked his eyes away from the canvas in a whip. He lowered his paintbrush and put his palette on his table, brushing his long, dark hair out of his eyes. Standing up with a slight wince (probably from sitting for that long), he strode over to you, lifting your chin up with his finger. You could see the sweat beads glisten on his forehead, and his fingers all covered with paint. A splash of paint decorated his neck, from where veins were slightly popping out.

“Always so needy for me, aren’t you? Can’t help yourself, can you?” He leaned forward to your lips, with barely any space between them. You could feel his breath hit your lips as you leaned forward to kiss them. To your disappointment, he leant back.

“Mm, always so impatient for me, ” Hyunjin smirked into an impatient, rough kiss, a surprise to you, after he had previously leaned away. "Mm Hyunnie-" you moaned into the kiss, Hyunjin's hands resting on your thigh, "Want you." Hyunjin pulled away from the kiss, caressing your cheek with his right hand.

"Not so fast my muse." He smirked like the devil in a dance, "you distracted me from almost finishing the painting, so now you're gonna pay for it."

He leaned back against his chair, leaving you dumbfounded on the couch. "Now-" he picked up his paintbrush, "-I am going to need something to motivate me to detail this painting, so why don't you touch yourself for me darling?"

"And don't you dare take that pretty dress off." He mused, biting his bottom lip in concentration "That's for me to do later."

You slip your fingers into your cunt, feeling disappointment at them not being Hyunjin's cock. As you start to hump your hand, you could see Hyunjin tighten his grip on his paintbrush, his face ever so scrunched up. He hasn’t fucked you yet, but this is good. You could see that hyunjin has been subtly grinding his long, pretty (and hard) cock against the easel for a good time now. “yeah, ‘m wet for you hyune~” you croon, wanting to cum so bad.

"Just a little more, my muse. Need to get the details right don't I? Need to make sure this pretty body gets what it deserves?"

You exhale lightly at that, trying not to react too much to what he just said.You aren’t sure if he can see you clench around your own fingers or not, but you nod in agreement.You want to move your fingers more, you want Hyunjin to watch you do more. You jolted your hips ever so slightly as you could feel warm liquid coming between your legs.

"Jinnie-" you moaned, eyes still focused on his fingers moving delicately across the canvas, "-want to cum please." Hyunjin smirked behind his canvas and turned his eyes away for a split second. “You want to cum?” he grinned devilishly, wiping sweat off of his forehead. “Y-yes, I— please—” “Hm, but do you really deserve to?” Hyunjin slowly dabbed at a spot on the canvas as your fingers stopped moving around your clit. "Please Hyunjin~" you moaned, feeling more impatient than ever.

"Aww baby." Hyunjin cooed, getting up again and striding over to you, “Tell me how you want me.” “Want your fingers in me.” You whined, watching him get on top of you. "Aww my fingers? How many darling?"

When you didn’t respond, he tilted his head at you, quickly thinking of a way to get you to answer him. His long, messy hair fell in front of his dark brown eyes, waiting for you to beg him. He always enjoyed the sensation of you being on your knees, absolutely going dumb for his cock He slid his fingers into you and his eyes flickered down to your pussy, clenching tightly around them.

He grunted deeply and twisted his other hand on his cock teasingly. His eyes were glued on you starting with your half-lidded eyes and your parted lips, trying to catch a breath. He trailed his eyes down to your chest which rose and fell with each panting breath you took. He traced the curves of your body with greedy eyes, your smooth skin covered with a thin layer of sweat.

You slip your hands into his hair again, pulling him back down to continue the passionate kiss, holding onto him desperately. Youf tingled between your legs when his cock brushed through your folds and bumped against your clit, reigniting the flames of your desire. The heat of him turned you on, as if he’d drugged you with just a kiss, with just a touch of his glass skin on yours. He pressed another kiss to your jaw, ghosting your skin with his soft lips. He gave you a messy kiss, leaned his weight on his arm by your head to drag his rough hand down your body. He took your breath away again, pulled away just far enough so he could follow the path of his hand with his eyes.

"I think you need to be fucked properly, don't you my muse?" He stroked his cock, "Do you need to be fucked hmm?" "Please Jinnie-" you whined, missing the feeling of his fingers inside of you, "-need you against me, please." Your begging words ignited Hyunjin's mind, his eyes filled with fiery desire.

"Hyun- Hyunjin fuck!" Hyunjin slips into your cunt so easily. He kneads your breasts just right, pinching and caressing where you like, and his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You moan his name, and you feel his cock beneath you coming gradually to life. You grind your bare cunt on his nourishing cock, and his hand grasps your hair to pull your head. “Behave,” he warns with a chuckle, “Fucking eager, aren't we?” You could feel tears come out, decorating your face along with the sweat. Hyunjin's cock twitched as he saw your eyes all glossy and your face scrunched up, trying not to sob out of the pleasure he was giving you.

“Fuck you’re so—” He groaned, his hips shifting as he sat still for a second and he soaked in the way your lips parted and your eyes rolled back with pleasure. “—Fucking tight. You’re already squeezing the fuck outta my cock.” One thrust, then two, Hyunjin goes deeper into you, your moans giving him Heaven to his ears.

"Hyun- wait - I-I can't-" "yes you can darling." Hyunjin's eyes darkened over you, his hands still on your hair, as yours reciprocated. “Hyun,” You whined, squeezing your eyes shut, the overstimulation making tears slip from your eyes and your legs shake. You felt a shiver run down your spine when you felt his lips on your spine, his tongue running over your skin. He stopped at your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses before he pressed his lips against your ear.

“You’re my good girl right? You’d do anything I tell you to?” He coaxed, his voice deep and smooth, enough to make you want to come right then and there, again. You nodded, not trusting your voice. “Yeah you fucking would. So cum for me, now.” He demanded, his hand slipping down your body to run your sensitive clit and the overstimulation was enough to send you over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck that’s it,” He moaned, his hand squeezing your neck tight enough to bruise, but not enough cut off your air entirely. He turned your head and kissed you hard, tongue slipping into your mouth as he sunk into you one more time before he spilled inside you.

"Whew!" Hyunjin panted as he collapsed next to you. "You know what, this actually is a weird couch. How is it supporting both of us?" You giggled, snuggling up to Hyunjin's warm chest. "Well thank you to Etsy for letting me but it for cheap. It's my most favourite place to draw my muse." You smiled into his chest, as he wrapped his arms around you, the smell of paint hanging around. "By the way," you spoke first after a long silence, "Did you get the details finished?" Hyunjin smirked at you, and buried himself into your neck. "I finsihed that shit a long time before you touched yourself all pretty for me darling." He whispered into your ear as you slapped his chest playfully, getting up to see how he had made a masterpiece of his muse.

443 notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 2 months

Text

thinking about washing spencer reid’s hair

being a hairdresser with a client that keeps coming back to you for the same treatment. fem!reader, 753wc

As a hairdresser, you get many clients and visitors - all of whom you've grown to know well over the years. You would chat in friendly conversation with the ladies in your chair, asking them about their lives and families as you refresh their hair colour.

You were familiar with all your clients. All except one who would pop in sporadically - with no particular promise of their return.

Finishing up on an older lady's curly-do, you glance over to the seating area, spotting him in an armchair by the window, book in hand, brown satchel laid across his lap. You meet his gaze, a soft smile tugging on the corners of your lips.

You turn your attention back to the lady in the mirror, watching her playful expression widen when she follows your eyeline. "What a handsome man," she whispers, talking to you in the reflection. "Get in there quickly... before I do."

"Steady there," you giggle at her antics, grin widening. "Your husband is only in the store next door."

She mumbles dismissively, gesturing with her hands as he snickers. "Oh, Albert knows what I'm like."

"Better keep you on a leash, hm?" you laugh as you untie the gown, helping her stand. "You wait over there, okay? Albert will be back for you in no time," you smile down at her, guiding her towards the seating area.

You turn to look at your next client, his warm gaze already on you. "Your usual, Spencer?" you ask sweetly, features mirroring his.

"Uh— yes, please," he nods, slinging his bag over his shoulder - following behind you.

You lead Spencer to the back of the salon with the basins, wrapping a gown over his front and a towel over his shoulders - helping him back comfortably into the seat. Turning on the water, you guide the head over his scalp, carefully wetting his hair.

"Is the temperature okay?" you ask. "Not too hot?"

"Yeah, no, that's perfect," his mouth faintly curling up at the sides. "It's perfect," he closes his eyes, tilting his head back.

You weakly chuckle to yourself, an all-too-familiar smile creeping on your face. "Did you like that shampoo last time, or do you want to try something new?"

"The same one— I quite liked the coconut."

You pump the shampoo into your hands, rubbing it in a lather before applying it to his scalp, gently scrubbing it in - being mindful of his sensitivity. Massaging his head with sturdy fingers, you glance down at him, taking note of his sweet features - how they almost soften and melt under your touch.

You've never felt this way about a client before - sure, most of them are middle-aged women, but with Spencer, it was different. He would come into the salon for the same simple treatment every time—a wash and dry—requesting you specifically on the days you were available. The fact he would come to a woman’s salon and book for you every time was enough to cause a swell in your heart.

Turning your attention back to Spencer in your chair, you rinse and repeat - now working conditioner into his curly, messy ends. Looking down at him, you meet his gaze again, his soft hazels admiring you before they bashfully divert away.

Finishing up in the wash station, you lead him to your chair, nodding for him to sit. "Can I get you a drink? Coffee?"

"The way you always make it?" he softly smiles at you in the reflection, his face almost lighting up.

"Of course," you mirror his expression. "I'll even make it in that mug you like."

Giving him one quick nod, you head off to the room out back, filling the purple mug with a fresh pot of coffee - adding in the extras he seems to love. Returning with a cup in hand and a smile on your face, you place it on the table beside him and move behind to make a start on drying his hair.

Guiding your fingers through his damp, soft curls, you meet his eyes for another time, his lips parting momentarily. His mouth shuts, stopping himself short. He looked as though he was about to ask you something - a question, maybe. Something important.

And as you ponder his potential question, he interrupts your thinking, his gentle voice cutting through your short spiral of thoughts.

"I uh— I was actually hoping you're free after your shift tonight. I'd love to finally take you out for dinner."

had this idea spring up and it didn’t turn out the way I wanted it. but no point deleting it, so might as well post💌

^ also clearing out drafts

#spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #criminal minds spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you

301 notes · View notes

prettygirlmjmjmj · 6 months

Text

Understanding your cycle and the four phases

The female body has four cycle and at each cycle what your body needs will be very different. I'm going to talk about four factors you might want to consider for each phase; what kind of exercise/movement you should try to do, what foods to eat more of or avoid, what your energy levels may be like and self care for that phase. I hope this helps you understand a bit more about what is going on in each phase ands what you can do to help your hormones and body!

Menstruation (Day 1 - 6)

This phase is the easiest to spot as you physically get your period. Your uterus is shedding its lining and your cervix position is low and will feel hard.

what kind of exercise/movement is best to do? This is a good period for rest days and slow movement. Outdoor walks, stretching, slower-paced yoga and bodyweight strength exercises will help you get some movement/exercise in without causing more pain or discomfort for you.

what foods should you try to eat more of or avoid? Try to avoid fatty and salty foods. Vegetables, fruits and herbs like kale, beets, mushrooms, collard and hearty greens, sweet potatoes, root vegetables, dark coloured berries (cranberries, blueberries, blackberries), concord grapes, watermelon, red raspberry leaf, nettle and turmeric will help your body in this phase. Grains, nuts and seeds like buckwheat, wild rice, pumpkin seeds, flax, chestnuts, and peanuts are good to eat more of in this phase. Proteins like kidney beans, adzuki beans, duck, pork, shellfish, sardines, red meat and liver should also be included in more meals. Some examples of meals to have would be stews, warm soups and stir-fries.

what are your energy levels like? your energy is normally fairly low at this point, so try to prioritise sleep and rest. Try and make sure your schedule is fairly light at this point, lots of targets and deadlines may be somewhat overwhelming or stressful.

what kind of self care should you do and not do? Try to avoid exfoliating and waxing, your skin may be dehydrated and sensitive. Focus on getting more moisture and hydration, avoid harsh products. Try hydrating masks and focus on reducing inflammation. Try putting together a period package, journaling and reading more. Get plenty of sleep during this phase.

Follicular (Day 6 - 14)

This phase is when oestrogen and testosterone levels start to rise. The pituitary gland releases FSH and your energy, mood and libido rise!

what kind of exercise/movement is best to do? Now is a great time for more high-energy movement and exercise! Try activities like , hiking, running, swimming and Pilates as you have much more energy and will likely be prepared to exercise for longer.

what foods should you try to eat more of or avoid? Try and eat more veggies, fruits and herbs such as artichoke, broccoli, sprouts, carrots, lettuces, green peas, string beans, zucchini, rhubarb, parsley, avocado, citruses, pomegranate, plums, cherries, nettle and basil. Grains and seeds such as oats, barley, rye, wheat, pumpkin, flax, Brazil nuts and cashes will help during this phase. Protein-wise try to eat more lentils, split peas, black eyed peas, poultry, trout and shellfish. Meals that may be good during this period are oatmeal/overnight oats, tahini bowls, blueberry banana muffins and avocado salad.

what are your energy levels like? Your energy levels have risen so your brains ability to problem solve and plan. Creativity will be sparking during this period! Now is a great time to start new projects, brainstorm, dream big, plan for the week and do the things you love.

what kind of self care should you do and not do? Your skin has improved hydration, hyaluronic acid production. Now is a good time to try out new products as your skin will be at it's best and use gentle exfoliants to keep your pores clean. Focus on nourishment and treatment for your skin. Now is a good time to exfoliate your skin and use products to really emphasise your skins glow.

Ovulatory (Day 15 - 17)

This is the phase when your fertility is highest and your oestrogen levels are dropping of while your testosterone rises. You'll have a lot more energy and often a high libido.

what kind of exercise/movement is best to do? Try high-energy, high-intensity workouts like weightlifting, cardio such as spin or HIIT and longer hikes with more effort involved.

what foods should you try to eat more of or avoid? Try to eat more vegetables, fruits and herbs such as Brussel sprouts, red bell pepper, aubergine, spinach, tomato, chard, asparagus, scallions, chives, coconut, fig, strawberry, raspberry, apricot, persimmons, guava, dandelion root, burdock root and turmeric. Grains and seeds such as quinoa, pumpkin, flax, pistachio, pecan and almond will help during this phase. Try to eat more proteins such as lentils, salmon, eggs, tuna, shrimp and lamb. Meals that may be good are a fresh fruit or pasta salad, smoothies and broth-based soups.

what are your energy levels like? energy is typically very high at this point so now is a good time to socialise and get high-energy projects done! Be open to new experiences and things, make the most out of this high-energy period.

what kind of self care should you do or not do? Your skin will get oily in the next phase so find some way of deep cleansing (getting a facial etc) and try to keep pores nice and clean with toners and serums. Focus on hydration, nourishment and restorative products for your skin. Your cell turnover is at it's best, so exfoliation should be minimal and gentle during this period. Take long baths or showers and take the time to care for yourself.

Luteal phase (Day 18 - 28)

During this phase you get a surge of progesterone, but if your body confirms you aren't pregnant than then all hormones begin to decrease. Mood changes are fairly common during this period.

what kind of exercise/movement is best to do? as your energy drops so should the intensity and impact, so return back to slower and steadier workouts such as walking or hiking, yoga (you could try a slightly more challenging yoga workout), light Pilates that aren't too fast paced and stretching to help with pain or aches.

what foods should you try to eat more of or avoid? Try to eat more vegetables, fruits and herbs such as cabbage, cauliflower, celery, cucumber, collard and mustard greens, onion, parsnip, pumpkin, radish, squash, potato, sweet potato, apple, dates, peaches, pear, burdock root, dandelion root, red raspberry leaf and ginger. Some examples of grains and seeds that may help are brown rice, millet, sunflower seeds, sesame seeds, pine nuts and walnuts. Proteins to eat are chickpeas, turkeys, salmon, cod, halibut and beef.

what are your energy levels like? energy levels may be low/lower than previous cycles, so take the time to engage in creative and relaxing activities such as reading or painting to help with stress relief and to distract yourself.

what kind of self care should you do or not do? try to use gentle skincare products like foaming cleansers or clay masks. Spot treatments may be necessary during this period especially. Focus on skincare as breakouts are very common during this period and avoid trying out new products or any super strong products that may worsen your skin. Make sure to take care of yourself during this period and take things nice and slowly.

Remember this is in no way a one size fits all, the amount the phases last for will greatly vary as will how you feel, but these are a guide on how you may be able to help understand your cycle. All my love mj.

#glow up era #that girl #glow up #self care #self development #glow up journey #self love #it girl #girl blogger #girlblogging #big sister advice #cycle syncing #coqeutte #that girl lifestyle #that girl energy #pink pilates princess #pink pilates girl #becoming that girl

675 notes · View notes

koenigami · 5 months

Text

tags : fem!reader, fluff, drunk!wrio, alcohol and intoxication, established relationship

Like the seasons, like the clouds in the sky, everything changes. Especially people. Which is the reason why even over the course of a steadfast and earnest relationship, you will always get to know something new about your partner. Their opinions on certain matters, their preferences in music, fashion or even taste of water.

What you have learned merely two hours ago is that your tea fanatic lover, WRIOTHESLEY - your big, strong, hunk who won't bow down to anyone - is a lightweight when it comes to alcoholic beverage.

It had started off as a casual evening stroll along the streets of Fontaine, including window shopping and easy-going conversations as you caught up on each other's day. That was until you passed the newly opened pub which you remember Clorinde briefly mentioning to you a few days ago. It was not overly big, yet the atmosphere that lingered inside was sweet and homely. Wooden tables and chairs with cushioned seats, large windows letting the sunset flood the pub's interior in an orange hue, shelves with all different kinds of alcoholic drinks spread over the entirety of the wall behind the counter.

The service was impeccable, food was delicious, and their drinks very refreshing. Wriothesley must have thought so too, because it did not take long until his cheeks were coloured in a light rosy shade.

- Sitting with him in a far corner of the room, you notice how his pupils are blown wide, and his tongue is loose as he keeps on rambling about matters that he surely won't even remember tomorrow. "You know what?" the strong alcoholic smell wafts through your nose as he throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. As if wanting to avoid any prying ears, he leans in and whispers into your ear. "It seems that I may need to share a secret of mine with you."

"Oh, really now?" you raise your eyebrows and offer him a lopsided smile, sounding anything but thrilled about the upcoming revelation. "I'm all ears."

Wriothesley briefly pulls back, scanning his surroundings just to make sure that there is really no one trying to be noisy about your current conversation. He nods and leans back in, deep blue eyes staring right into yours with a seriousness that would normally worry you if it weren't for his intoxicated state. "I love you."

His words nearly drown in the loud music and singing of other not any less intoxicated guests. But you still catch them. You always would. Because his lips always move the same as they form around those words. Because his eyes always look the same when he utters them. Because your heart always starts beating the same erratic beat.

"I love you. I love you. I love you-" he stops his mantra, taking a deep breath in a dramatic manner before resuming and making you both chuckle. With every sentence, his face inches closer to yours. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-"

You press a forefinger against his lips, silencing him and stopping his attempted kiss. The wet lips beneath your skin form into a little pout as he waits for your next move in anticipation. "Didn't you know that words lose their meaning if you repeat them too often?" your question was meant to be lighthearted. Teasing. But at the way he straightens and leans back into his chair, you realise that despite his tipsiness he still manages to seriously ponder over your words.

"There is no meaning behind my words." he scoffs and downs the remains of his drink. You feel your heart plunge a little before it rockets back up like a rollercoaster when he suddenly turns your way and grabs your cheeks in one hand. His warm breath fans over your puckered lips, and you are once again met with that same soft gaze of his that could make you melt right then and there.

"At least not any deeper meaning. They're simple facts." he leans in and this time you don't prevent him from kissing you. You taste the whiskey on his lips and sigh when his tongue briefly traces your lower lip. "Facts that will never change, my love."

#wriothesley #wriothesley genshin impact #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley drabble #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin

623 notes · View notes

thecynthh · 3 months

Text

a little ink - C.S

summery - y/n is journaling in bed but chris gets bored of his phone and begins to play around with y/n's stationary.

notes - fluff <33333, chris is so boyfriend, i thought the fandom needed more fluff, short

a/n - hey yall, this is an apology gift because ive been bad on being active and writing so enjoy this lil thing i whipped up.

——————————————————————————

i stationed myself on my side of the large bed with a little tray table on top of my bare legs. my shorts barely covered up to my mid thigh so the vent near me was absolutely chilling. i begin to go slowly when i'm trying to write a title for my next page, i began to journal when my boyfriends brother and my therapist recommended it to me, despite how simple matt’s was, I thought i could take it up a notch and make it a little cutesy.

my pencil case was jam packed with highlighters, colourful pens and high quality markers, my concentration stays strict on the page in front of me, i tried to keep my penmanship neat while i'm trying to write something in cursive. a warm hand wraps around my ankles as i look down beside me seeing chris look at me with want in his eyes. “hi chris,” i simply say looking at the boy while i put the cap back onto my brush tip marker.

“hi baby,” he looks up at me with a beaming bright smile, he just radiates good energy and love. he drops his phone beside him now playing a song instead of the various audios from tiktok.

his hand sneaks up into my pencil case grabbing a yellow marker from it. he uncaps it and i feel the light pressure of it press down onto my skin, the yellow marker glides along my scar, he continues to draw past it to make a star out of the previously hurt skin. chris knew i was self conscious about my scars, it was a permanent reminder of the pain i went through in highschool.

he didn’t care though. he continued to draw random doodles on my leg, moving on to my arms where more scars lay hurt, he switched out his marker for a different colour the more he explored. little hearts, stars and chris’ signature riddle my legs and arms, i feel his writing getting a bit faster. It looks like a sentence but i couldn’t quite read it.

i stopped what i was doing a long time ago, now just admiring what he was doing. he was so focused on writing his signature on the larger line of a scar i had on my arm using the line from my body to represent the line through the dollar sign he always made whenever he wrote his name.

he does a very magnificent heart beside his name, filling it in still trying to be very soft on my skin as the ink seeps in. he plants a fulfilling kiss onto the scar now covered in orange ink, he looks up at me with a little bit of a knowing look painted on his face. “im sorry, it was only meant to be a little ink but your scars are beautiful, as is the rest of you.” his finger underlines the sentence imprinted on my skin as he reads it out.

“chris i'm gonna cry oh my gosh. you are so cute, you know that?” i saw trying to hold back a sob.

a chuckle escapes his smiley lips “i love you so much y/n” his lips make contact with the star that started the rest of the pseudo tattoos. i wish i could keep this image in my head forever, because this was a moment too precious to let go of.

taglist - @westwiing13 @comet235 @mayhem73

#sturniolo triplets #syn speaks #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #Spotify

315 notes · View notes

xfancyuu · 1 year

Text

~ now i draw a luxury nxde. [aemond targaryen] 18+ SMUT

because it's the beginning of spring i wanted to post for that so in universe it is also warm and flowers are blooming! reader is afab with she/her pronouns & my requests are open! this could be read as though it's in the same universe as my other bolton!reader works, though she's married to aemond and is referred to as lady targaryen. there are no appearance indicators in this fic, this is kinda canon divergence. also i didn't bold the dialogue for this one and i actually think i'm gonna go and reformat my other fics to match! this fic is also known as frolicking and fucking so yeah that's what you're in for. smut will be indicated with a different coloured line break if you do not wish to read it. [1,757 words]

this fic contains: wall sex, public sex, dressed sex, choking, spitting, voyeurism, name-calling, corruption kink, attempted dirty talk? y'all are just newly married and experimenting tbh, y'all degrade each other, slight orgasm denial, cumming inside. if i missed any please lmk!

You had never imagined life as a married woman to be so blissful. You had heard from the ladies in court that they simply did their marital duty and did not enjoy spending time with their husbands. They had told you that the bliss would wear off within the year once you had children, and they would steal your beauty.

You had all but rolled your eyes at their commentary. They were rude and bitter, seeking your own mood to be as equally unhappy as their own. They nitpicked at everything you did, from reading too much to what you ate and how you conducted yourself. Loneliness truly was more appealing than spending ceaseless amounts of time with women who were your mother's age and almost as bitter. Being surrounded with unmarried women was improper, they had told you — not that you paid them mind, as your ladies in waiting were all unmarried and far better company.

You found yourself in the gardens with your ladies-in-waiting more often than not, the weather was pleasant, and you'd much rather be outside than wallow inside without much joy. Flowers had brought you much more joy than you had anticipated, they livened your mood from the dreaded time spent with the married ladies in court. They wouldn't be seen outside without reason, whereas you did not care much for the opinions and thoughts of others in court, despite being a Princess.

The book within your lap had become much more interesting than whatever your ladies were gossiping about, you hadn't cared much for the people they were talking about, but the adventure of Lady Sunderland and her times in the Reach were too addictive to put down. Your ladies' had tried to gain your attention one too many times, but you were too engrossed in the book to care for the outside world.

The book was abruptly taken from your hands, making you both lose the page you were ready and had caused your brain to be hazy. You were both mad and irritated by the actions of someone clearly trying to ruin your day. "Do you mind?" You had asked, not expecting to see your husband as you looked up.

"Is it a crime for me to want to spend time with my wife?" Aemond had asked you, extending his hand as if expecting you to take it despite disturbing your peace.

"It's a crime when you snatch my book off of me and expect me to be happy about it." You retorted, deciding it was probably better to go along with him, and took his help to get off the grass. "Lucky for you, I like you enough not to lock you up."

"Oh how merciful." Aemond responded, not removing your hand from his grasp, "the flowers are blooming, you should be looking at the world instead of living in your books."

"I'll have you know I can do both equally," You retorted, leading Aemond away from the prying eyes and sharp ears of your ladies, "Now you're here you might as well keep me company if you won't let me read, perhaps a walk around the garden would do us both some good."

"I have a better idea than touring the gardens," Aemond had pulled you into a secluded pathway leading away from the hustle and bustle of everybody else.

"Your ideas always end up with us in trouble." You weren't entirely wrong, the disapproving look of Queen Alicent would be forever engrained in your brain.

"They may be troublesome, but you always have fun." You couldn't disagree, instead you simply followed Aemond to whichever location he wanted to show you.

Aemond had abruptly left you in the morning, leaving you needy and begging for him to finish the job he'd started yet he had left you without a thought for your own well-being. You could somewhat blame your crankiness and willingness to do such a deviant act in public with the possibility of anybody seeing and reporting such acts to the Queen.

The thought that you shouldn't be doing this had crossed your mind — the words would not leave your mouth though, you had wanted to do this, neediness had seeped in, with your skirts and underclothes raised above your waist, your modesty was damned and so were you.

The carnal need and desire you felt within yourself had put all your thoughts out the window, if you were in your usual mind frame you would have told Aemond no, that it was improper but words would not form in your throat. Instead, you kissed him back with almost as much longing.

The insatiability you had felt was consuming you, yet it felt more so annoying, Aemond hadn't truly done anything to you to make you feel this way, little touches and long stares did not warrant you feeling so flustered by the man so much you'd let him take you any which way he wanted.

You were expecting the current position you were in — being in public had never been a boundary you crossed with each other, yet he had so little patience when it had come to you, not even checking if the garden was secluded enough not to have prying eyes follow you, "Who knew my lady wife could be such a whore?" Aemond had whispered in your ear, though you could not form words of your own, "Wanting me to take her right now with not a care in the world who witnesses it."

"I think you can only get your cock up with the thought of an audience, you leave me so frustrated when we're alone in our chamber."

"You may come to regret that, wife." Aemond had always had to get the last word, "Your tongue may be sharp, but I will fuck you until you can't form another sentence." He'd begun unlacing his trousers, and you truly knew you were in for it — whatever it entailed, you weren't sure.

"You keep saying what you're going to do, but you haven't even stuck it in yet, tell me husband, are you struggling? Do you need me to help you stick it in? Can you not find the hole?" You couldn't finish your light-hearted taunting Aemond had entered you with little care, it was sloppy and lustful as though he felt as much need as you did.

You couldn't stay quiet, not with how intoxicating Aemond had felt inside, thrusting himself as far as he could inside of you, the slow pace was comfortable but irritating, you wanted it fast and hard, you wanted Aemond to show you the side of himself he hid away, the side which would make you blush if you so much as thought about it.

You were so used to being in control, Aemond had ensured you always felt comfortable and could stop at any moment but seeing him so dominant had made you tingle, then gasp as you felt a hand around your throat. "You've got to be quiet, you don't want the world to hear you, do you? Don't want the world to hear what a whore you become for cock."

The sight of your ladies seeing you in such a position had the opposite effect than what you thought it would, the idea of corrupting them as much as you had been corrupted had you clenching around Aemond's cock.

"Not so fast, princess," Aemond spoke, his pace slowing and causing the momentum and build-up to your own orgasm to be depleted. "Good girls get to cum, you've not been a good girl, have you?"

You couldn't respond, the hand wrapped around your throat had become tighter, "Going to cum inside you, princess, have you got a problem with that?" You had tried to shake your head, but with the grip Aemond had on your throat, your head hadn't moved an inch.

Aemond had increased his speed, and you knew he was close to his own peak despite ruining your own, the pettiness within you had decided if you didn't get your release neither was Aemond. As if sensing your plans, Aemond thrust into you harder, keeping you in place as though you were a doll he could do what he pleased. "You're going to take my seed, and you're going to thank me for it."

Your orgasm was too sudden for you to realise what was happening, from the words Aemond spoke to the way he was fucking you, it was far too much to process and your body reacted entirely by itself. You knew disobeying Aemond would have consequences but in the depth of your own pleasure and Aemond continuing to fuck you, you didn't care. You'd take any punishment to feel a moment of the pleasure you were currently feeling.

"Naughty girl." Aemond whispered in your ear as you came down from your high, "I thought you'd finally be a good girl, though I suppose I set my standards too high for you. Open your mouth."

You did as he commanded, not wanting to make him more upset with you. However, you weren't prepared for him to spit in your mouth — or to like it as much as you did. "You belong to me and you do as I say."

It hadn't taken long for Aemond to spill his seed within you, his grip on your throat loosening and his teeth biting into your skin. It wasn't often you had allowed him to cum inside you — the prospect of what would follow being in the forefront of your mind. "I'm yours." You reassured Aemond as he came down from his climax.

"Are you okay there?" You had asked, not used to such an intense reaction from Aemond, "I really enjoyed myself." You reassured him, you were so close and the euphoria of the situation had you cradling Aemond within your arms.

"It was just a bit... much, I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked, pulling out of you. At that moment, you knew you'd need to bathe. The feeling of his seed coming out of you had you almost recoiling.

"Trust me, you'd know if you were hurting me." You didn't want to approach the subject of being witnessed in such an act. "Your mother may be expecting more grandchildren soon."

"Moontea exists, my dear." You hadn't been married a year yet, it wasn't entirely suspicious that you had not shown signs of being pregnant. "And for what it's worth, I enjoy our time just being the two of us."

as always, thank you for reading this! i really appreciate it. i really enjoy writing for aemond so if y'all have any requests send them my way. my next hotd fic will be for helaena so if that interests you just message me! crossposted on ao3 under the name hedonism!

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf imagine #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x y/n #i just had fun writing this if you couldnt tell #basically i watched the tudors and yeah #i think this is the filthiest thing i've wrote

1K notes · View notes

luveline · 6 months

Note

hi lovely! can i request trying to pick a horror movie to watch with remus or steve but they keep getting distracted by r? or they keep kissing her so she gets distracted? thank u <33

thank you love ♡ modern au

"You don't like gore, so no Saw." You rub your hand down the length of your legs, warming yourself in the autumn chill. "And I don't like new slashers, so we can forget Totally Killer."

"You're missing out, if James is to be believed," Remus says from just behind you. He must lean down, his voice closer and warmer by your ear when he adds, "but he doesn't have the best taste, bless. You want socks?"

"Come and sit down," you beg.

Remus is one of those guys where you're always pleading with him to slow down. When he gets started, he can't stop. Ever since he caught wind of you being cold he's been closing the windows tight, fiddling with the boiler, and now throwing a blanket over your legs. You pull on his arm until he deigns to sit next to you, immediately pushing your face into his neck. His hair tickles your face, soft brown waves that smell like macadamia oil. His cheek chubs with a smile as he turns in on you.

"What other options are there?"

"The new Pet Sematry," you say into his neck, rubbing your nose on him indulgently. "Uhm… ton of Blumhouse panky."

"Don't be a snob."

"M'not. S'just all a bunch of rubbish." You drag yourself away from him and turn your attention back to the TV, flicking through rows of new autumn movies to the 'Spooky Collection'. "Hocus Pocus 2?"

"No, thanks." Remus ignores what you're up to, bringing a hand to your face to guide your lips to his. You're not expecting it but you give him a little kiss, always happy for one if it's from him.

You're distracted by different possibilities on screen, pausing your half hearted kiss to ask, "What about a horror TV series?"

Remus kisses your cheek while you're busy. His hand skirts down your neck, laying it loving but still on the flat of your chest. "What about whatever you want?" he asks, the cartilage of his nose bending as he kisses, and kisses, hot flashes of affection that work their way to your jaw.

"I don't know what I want, that's the point." You laugh as he kisses under your jaw, a sweet spot he knows to leave well enough alone when you're not already at his mercy. It's too much. "Stop," you chasten.

Remus leans into the sofa, rubbing your kissed skin with the back of his hand. "Yeah, alright. Show me the TV programmes."

The hint of his Welsh accent lays heavy on 'programmes'. You resist the urge to repeat it and scroll down to the shows, all new and unexciting. "We'll have to watch Criminal Minds."

"That's not in the spirit of Halloween."

Remus is looking at you hard. You can feel his gaze on your cheek, and you know he's waiting for permission, or at the very least, wanting to ask for it.

You side eye him. "What's more scary than a serial killer?" you ask. Then, quickly, "Please kiss me again."

"You don't even want me to kiss you," he says.

"I always want you to kiss me–" You squeal as he descends on you, pushing you rough into the cushions. "But you have to pick what we're watching! Okay? I'm sick of always choosing."

"No problem," he says, kissing you smack dab on the lips. "In a minute." His smile begins to take form against yours, kissing and smiling and kissing some more, the colour of his laugh in the exhales of his breath.

"What about… uh…" You shudder as his lips part atop yours and encourage you to part your own, promptly forgetting what you'd been about to suggest as he pushes the taste of a cherry soother into your tongue. His arm wraps around the back of your head with a put upon aggression, hooking you in as he kisses you silly.

You laugh too hard to keep going and pull away, flustered, hands on his pinking cheeks. "Woah, Lupin, I know it's halloween, but if you wouldn't mind holding back your Hannibal-esque urges–"

Remus' turn to laugh, loud and brash as he squeezes another swift kiss to your cheek. He's still laughing as he stands, practically jogging down the hall and into the kitchen, away from his responsibility.

"Where are you going? You haven't picked a film!"

The fridge opens, bottles clinking in the door shelf. "I have to take the fruit strudel out, dove! You pick while I find the cream."

"Cheater," you mutter, fishing for the remote where it's escaped into the crack of the sofa cushions.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

873 notes · View notes

giamee · 28 days

Text

✦ ⠂⠂୨୧ ENJOY THE SILENCE

ಇ roommate!dan heng x reader ︴wordcount :: 0.5k ︴contains :: nothing of note, uhhh dan heng plays guitar ︴part two ︴requested by @/anon

ఌ︎. | DAN HENG

another sweetheart of a roommate

carries stuff for you without question or much room for debate from you

you're trying to move around furniture? dan heng magically appears, rolling up his sleeves slightly with an "allow me"

you're coming back from a shopping ship and preparing to carry the bags up your three flights of stairs? dan heng's already got you, easily taking hold of all the bags that you were struggling to carry mere seconds ago

it's a bit of a bummer, to be honest, that these were seemingly the only interactions that you had with the man

he was a bit of a homebody, and it was only a few weeks that you had been roommates with him

you're still adjusting to how his routine differed to yours, and found yourself encountering your first major clash

there was nothing that you liked to do more in the evening than use it as an opportunity to relax

after showering and making yourself a mug of tea, you were all cosy in bed and ready to catch up on your show

and just before you get it ready, you hear something from down the hall

granted, it's a little faint, but you can make out the sounds of someone playing an instrument

the melody was catchy, and on a whim you decided to get out of your warm cosy bed and see what exactly it was, padding out into the hallway

and you didn't mean to be nosy, honest, but dan heng's door was wide open to begin with and there he sat on the edge of his bed, guitar in his hands as he played a song

his eyes met yours quickly and he stopped playing, his eyes darting over your figure before he could help himself, and you blushed as you remembered your rather... revealing choice of pyjamas for the night

"sorry, did i disturb you?"

you shook your head quickly, offering a sheepish smile

"no, no, you're good. i just heard you playing and wanted to check it out. you're really good, by the way"

your compliment catches dan heng off guard, judging by the way his cheeks colour

"oh, thanks. i'm in a band, so... i try"

you nod, and there's a bit of a pause as the two of you just look at each other

the same hands that are so eager to help you carry your bags tap nervously against the guitar, and you observe the way the tendons flex with his movements. the instrument would explain how veiny his hands are, you supposed

dan heng clears his throat and you flick your eyes back up to meet his

he's looking at you, cautiously now, like he's deliberating saying something

"maybe... you could come to one of my shows some time?"

he's blushing pink now, a little sheepish with his proposition, but you don't miss the glint of hopefulness in his eyes

"i'd like that very much"

his eyes light up a little, darting to the side as a small smile begins to grow

"i would too"

gia's notes :: there was supposed to be a luocha one as well in this but i hated it sm so i js scrapped it 🥏

-‘๑’- honkai star rail masterlist

#୨୧ gia.txt :: dan heng #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #hsr dan heng x reader

311 notes · View notes

aphroditestempleimagines · 6 months

Text

That fool

Pairing: Suguru Geto x Reader - 18+

Words: 3943

Warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk reader, Geto is a teddy bear gojo is the mean one change my mind, sex (i promise geto is NOT a dick), fingering, bit of oral sex (fem!receiving), LOTS OF ANGST, name calling (princess) but just a bit

Summary: Your engagement to the heir to the Gojo clan has been arranged since you were young. Yet you can't help but realize that Satoru himself does not seem to care, neither about duty nor about you. As you try to drown your sorrow, you bump into your old, now criminal, friend.

Colour: Hot, Forbidden and very angsty

His love series - part 1

Author's note: idk why i wrote this when i'm a gojo simp, i'm in class and i'm bored. Also I'm gonna attempt a mixed pov.

"Is that what you wanted to discuss with me?", the man asked.

"You must understand", Geto responded, "It is the only way to truly eradicate evil from this world"

"It is aggressive and extreme and I will not be a part of it"

The man stood up. The short glass of whiskey fell down as he bumped the table.

"You yourself stood up against the monkey who hurt your son", Geto maintained his calm composure despite the man's reaction to his proposition.

"That was...different", the man uttered behind his teeth.

Geto smiled at the guy's clenched fists. He picked himself up and threw his arm over the man's shoulder. "All I'm saying is", he said firmly, "We keep losing our people to protect a lesser species who is, not just not thankful, but oppressive and prejudiced against us". He leaned in, anger brimming from his eyes. "How is that fair?"

The man lowered his head. Geto raised his gaze for just a second, out of habit. His eyes fell on your figure, lone and ridden with sadness, as you sat at the bar at the other end of the room. His first instinct was to run away; he would have, if you had not raised your hand to order another drink, directly from the young bartender. He leaned back to his potential associate, giving him a warm smile.

"You don't have to decide right away", he told him, "As long as we both keep this meeting confidential you can think on your answer for however long you'd like"

The man's fingers had not stopped fidgeting until Geto gave that small reasurement. A smile of relief adorned his face, yet some stress still remained in his eyes as he nodded and stumbled out of the establishment.

Geto focused his sights on you; your reddened eyes, your slumped form, your unquenchable thirst for liquor. Normally, he would not dream of talking to you again, not after he left Jujutsu High. He had to put everything behind him to move on with his goal. And though he remembered that fateful day he ran away from the crudity of the sorcerers' world as one of the brightest in his life, the thought of your tears and the memory of Gojo's calls were a constant anguish to him even to this day. And there they were, those tears he had feared, even though unspilled they remained so evident behind your tired eyes.

He approached. His legs brought him to you faster than his mind could object. His heart thanked them for it, but still broke a little at the sight of your startled face.

"Fancy meeting you here princess", he pretended to smile. It was quite easy since a part of him rejoiced at the reunion, even though in such saddening circumstances.

"What...ar you doin 'ere?", you slurred your words. You had not realized how heavy your head was until you tried to lift it up. You clutched your forehead. Your heart tightened. The stool was falling backwards. Your hands reached for the counter but it was no use; you could not reach it anymore. Your back hit something hard but it was not the floor. Geto's hands were on your arms as your head rested on his kimono-clothed chest.

"I think you've had enough", he said.

"Let me go!", you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, forgetting for a second that he was the only pillar keeping you from falling. Fortunately, his hold was quite strong. He released you only after he restored the stool to its proper position.

Geto's gaze scanned the room; it was full of them monkeys. He often said there were two kinds of them: money-collecting monkeys and curse-collecting monkeys. But when faced with a lonely drunken soul there came a third kind, the most vile of them all.

"That's it", he said as the hungry gazes collected on your form, "I'm taking you home. Where do you live?"

"I'm not telling you where I live, Geto"

"Is it still at the apartment in Shinjuku?"

Your face turned red. You had gotten that house during the last year of school so it would be quicker to attend emergencies in Tokyo. He and everyone else had helped you move in and you had not moved out since then. "y...yes", you whispered.

Geto was quick to guide your hand around his waist, throwing his around your form. "Just grab on to me", he said plainly, almost in annoyance, "Tell me if you can't walk anymore".

"I can do this by myself", you objected.

"You don't have to", he said, his gaze focused on the darkness surrounding you.

You did not speak as you walked, nor did you speak as you boarded the train from Roppongi Station. He held you close as you walked through the crowded tunnels to change lines in Shinjuku. His outdated attire did not draw nearly as much attention as your hazed gaze and reddened cheeks. You covered your face with your hand and buried your nose in Geto's robes.

"We're almost there", his grip tightened reassuringly around you.

You finally reached your apartment building. Your hands fumbled around inside your purse until they gripped the keys. He helped you open the lock and soon you were in the safety and comfort of your home. Geto stood at the doorway, not moving a step in as you took out your shoes and fell onto the couch. Everything was exactly the same as it was back then. Apart from a few minor items that were replaced after the times wore them down, nothing else had changed. He had not been there since that year. That year that had been the worst of his life. He could still remember Haibara helping out to set up the table, just as he could recall your beautiful smile as you and Shoko chatted while hanging all of the paintings that decorated the walls. Both images made his heart ache. He had not felt any remorse about his decision in years, yet there he was, being pulled in two different directions like he was in those days. And all it took, was one visit.

"Why are you just standing there?", your voice disperced his thoughts. You were rubbing your eyes with your hand. "Just come in", you told him.

He almost did not. He almost ran away back to the temple he had sought refuge in. Perhaps he should have. You were safe now. The only danger to you was he himself. Yet his curiosity won him over. He took off his sandals and went to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water, and him a bottle of sake. He sat on the couch next to you as you gratefully gulped down the refreshment you craved. You left the glass on the table and fell back on the pillows of the couch. He was overcome with the temptation - no, the need - to caress your heavy head as your messy locks fell upon your face. It took all his restraint not to.

"I can't do this anymore", you said. He had not asked a question, but he guessed you were drunk enough to wallow in your own pity.

"Exorcising?", he asked.

"No", you responded, "I know you probably wanted a different answer but...it's what I know how to do. So I'll do it"

Those words poured blood in Geto's clenched fists. That was exactly what Haibara used to say. He knew Gojo was far too strong, and perhaps even far too selfish, to share the same fate as he. But you? You, Shoko, Nanami were among the people he wanted to protect from the foolishness of the life as a jujutsu sorcerer.

"I never thought I would want him to love me. I know he never will", you continued murmuring.

You did not have to explain. This was about Gojo. Ever since High School he knew the two of you were arranged by his clan to be married one day. Gojo took no interest in the idea back then. He thought himself far too young for it. But after all these years was he continuing the same immaturity?

He could not be mad at him. He would never truly be mad at Gojo. He often wondered if he was ever mad at him but the opposite was never going to be true. And yet your tears felt as if they were his own. Your broken heart crumbled onto his hands and he fully knew that if he was the one to hold it initially he would not had dared cause such damage.

"I know at the end of the day it does not matter", you said, "But...it feels like...he's fine by himself. I can never stand at his side and neither would he ever want me to. And I just feel so...alone"

Geto knew that feeling well. He poured himself another glass of sake and gobbled it down.

"No one would care if I disappeared"

"I would", Geto stated. The words slipped his mouth. He looked at you. You had lifted your gaze. It fell troubled onto his face. He cupped your cheek and leaned towards you. His thumb brushed away your tears. "I would", he said again with even more determination. If he could not take the words back he would make sure you understood them. He would make sure you never felt the way he did back then.

You grabbed his kimono and pulled him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and desperate but at the same time everything you needed. He hesitated to put his hand on your waist, but he was already reciprocating the kiss. He felt your tears wet his calloused hand and he knew he was nothing more than a replacement. He did not know what you were to him exactly, what you were definitely seared onto his heart. And as he devoured your cherry lips he got even more drunk on the nectar of your kiss; he would have never guessed he could have such an alternative to the curses he forced himself to swallow.

"You're not thinking straight", he breathed against your face as you climbed on top of him.

"I know", you responded, "I simply don't care"

He held you close and kissed you again. His hands traveled up and down your form. The last notes of your perfume enveloped him. He thought of your smile, one of the few things that gave him true joy during his dark days. You both loved Satoru but Satoru was determined to prove he was better off alone. Would he hurt him if he slept with you? A part of him wanted to, wanted to get revenge for staying true to the jujutsu world, for making you cry, for everything. And a part of him could not. But he could not push you away either. He could not be the cause of more tears. He could not be the reason you did not find your smile again. And most of all, he could not cool down the feverish heat that overwhelmed him as your body pressed against his.

"Suguru...", you murmured above his lips.

That was it. He could not take it anymore. He flipped your bodies so that your back hit the couch cushions. He nibbled your neck as his hand hiked up your black dress until it was scrunched over your hips. His thumb pressed on your bud over your panties and traced small rough circles. He tried to pull the neckline of your dress down but he just could not stretch it down enough. In a swift move, he reached for the hem around your waist, pulled the dress over your head and threw it on the floor.

Your body trembled at the sudden chill. You reached for his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss, your hands undoing his long black hair. His locks fell on the sides like a curtain.

He was kissing your chest. His fingers pulled your underwear to the side and glided over your clit. Your hands got tangled in his hair as he pressed one of them past your lower lips.

"Always the idiot", Geto murmured as he kissed you between your breasts, "He'll never change".

Your body trembled as he dexterously thrusted his digits inside you. Your hands blindly searched for the tie of his belt. Geto used his free hand to pull open his robes until he could shake them off his shoulders and let them hang from his waist. You traced the faded scar on his firm chest. He placed his hand over yours and brought your palm to his lips for a gentle kiss. He kept your hand close to his cheek, relishing its touch with closed eyes.

"Don't ever say things like that about yourself again", he said firmly, "You're the best our world has to offer"

A few tears escaped your eyes. Geto noticed and kissed them away before adding a peck on the bridge of your nose. He moved his fingers more meticulously as you climbed in ecstasy. Your heaving breath exploded against his face, his eyes blazingly observing your heated expression. The spring of the coil was being twisted more and more by the minute. He gave you a quick kiss, hiked your leg over his bare shoulder and pressed his mouth against your clit. You moaned his name out loud before you came on his fingers. A subtle smile formed on your lips, pure and simple. Suguru could relish that smile for all eternity.

He climbed back up until he towered over your body. Your arms wrapped around his torso as he kissed you deeply. You were so beautiful; even more than he could remember.

"Suguru", your name left his lips again.

"I never realised how much I missed hearing you say my name"

Your hands reached for his belt again. "I want you"

"Not as much as I do", he aided you in undoing it. He threw his robes next to your dress. He gave you small kisses as his dressed length pressed on your entrance. "Tell me if it hurts".

You fisted his hair as he entered you. You did not stop him until he had bottomed out. He continued kissing you reassuringly, one hand massaging your tailbone, the other holding your leg around his hips. He was kissing your neck now, waiting for you to catch your breath.

"Don't be nice to me", you told him, "I don't want you to be nice to me"

He laughed. "Yes, you do", he lightly nipped at your collarbone, "And you always get what you want"

Soon the room was filled with your sounds of pleasure as Suguru's hips met yours in a passionate dance, tuned to an intoxicated melody. His cheeks had grown hot; yours had too.

"You're so beautiful", he breathed. There was a battle going on in his mind. He had loved a lot of people. He kept a list in his mind of those he wanted to protect, those he wanted for sure to be in his new world. You, Gojo, Nanami, Shoko...He loved all of them equally; or almost. You and Gojo were always a little higher on the ranks. But this? This was a new you he was seeing for the very first time and he was intoxicated. All the have-nots and could have been in his head were suddenly turning into a plausible reality. If only he could keep you with him. If only he could have you by his side, every day he woke up. He had chosen to leave so he would not burden any of his friends with the cruelty of his mission, but the prospect of the happiness he would gain by just gazing upon your face every day was too tempting to pass.

Yet there was another thought trying to force its way into his mind. 'If I could become Satoru Gojo for a moment, the dream would be achievable'. He was hurting him by being with you. He had taken one of the many things bestowed upon that man that he ungratefully scorned. And as much as it pained him to cause Gojo anguish, a part of him thought of it as well-deserved for his foolishness. Maybe he would finally mature and appreciate everything he had been given.

"Suguru!", your moan pulled him back into reality.

He held your sweated cheek. "Come for me, princess", he said and lowered his voice and lips close to your ear, "If you want to use your legs tomorrow that is"

Your hands gripped his hair again. Your walls clenched around his length. He grunted as he felt them squeeze him. "Two can play this game, princess", his hand rubbed fiercely on your bud.

Your breathing turned irregular. Your vision turned hazy. All there was was him and nothing else. Your thoughts were overcome with the knot in your stomach, threatening to break any minute.

Your head fell back as you came with a loud moan of his name. He followed soon after. You could feel his tired breath explode on the skin of your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder. You brushed his hair with your fingers. He planted soft kisses under your hairline. He sat up for a moment to put on his boxers, burning the condom into nothingness with a spell. He pulled your tired body against his as he lay on the couch, his arms wrapping around you.

"Y/n", he called your name softly.

"Hm?", your ear was pressed on his bare chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

He cupped your cheek to guide your gaze to him. He wore a genuine smile for the first time in years as he caressed your face. You could not help but return it. He planted a kiss on your forehead, his hand diving under your locks.

"No one deserves your tears", his low voice whispered next to your ear, "But if you have to spill them, let them be mine"

He picked up his robe and threw it over your bodies like a blanket as you drifted off to sleep.

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

When morning came, Geto woke up alone. Y/n's warmth still lingered over his body as he blindly searched for her with his sleepy eyes. His ears finally focused on the sound of running water. He smiled. They had not taken a shower last night so it was only logical she would do it first thing in the morning. He sat up on the couch, pulling his robe properly around his body. His gaze ran around the small apartment. Memories of your life were carefully placed all over the walls, the counters, the tables. He walked up to a dresser at the back of the room, probably storing all the linen needed in the living room-dining room fusion. Two photographs were placed on it; one with your class and Nanami's class, happily drinking together at Shoko's birthday party. The other one was with you and Gojo; smiles much subtler as you posed for an engagement picture.

Gojo's glasses were different than the ones Geto remembered. It must have been a more recent picture. He smiled as he admired your beautiful face, all dolled up for the photo. Then his eyes fell on Satoru again. His face turned serious. He missed him, that was sure. But he had grown accustomed to hating him, knowing he was probably hated back. He had grown accustomed to blaming him, knowing he was being blamed back.

He looked more carefully at his glasses. He could just see the shiny blue of his eyes underneath. His own eyes opened wide. Gojo's gaze was on you. The smile he wore was not fake at all; Geto would have recognized it. It was clear as day he had feelings for you. Yet you were not lying about your broken heart either. His eyes watered. He had thought he would be happy hurting Gojo's pride, but his heart was too much. He left the picture on the dresser and walked to your bedroom. He knocked on the door. Your voice called him in. One look at you and he lost all the words he wanted to say. He wanted to stay with you. But doing that would hurt Gojo. And if he chose to leave and spare Gojo from further pain, he would strike your heart at a moment when it was already bleeding.

"Last night", you drew his attention, "It was a mistake"

Those words were a knife through his chest. You kept your back turned on him as you lazily dried your hair with a towel.

"I wasn't thinking straight"

"You said you didn't care"

"I was wrong", you told him.

Suguru walked towards you. "You were not. I...I missed you"

"Don't lie to me. You just wanted to get back at Gojo for once", you spat. You cursed your lips the moment the words left your mouth. Suguru remained silent. "You won't even deny it?", you asked, "Geto"

"Suguru", he corrected. You sat there in silece for a moment. "Y/n", he finally spoke, "Look at me"

You shook your head.

"Please", he said again, "Look at me"

You slowly turned to face him. He had known he had guessed it right. The tears were back to flowing from your eyes, and this time he was the cause. He had made the wrong choice. All he had wanted was to bring you to smile.

"What brought this on?", he asked calmly.

His face was as it had been in your school days; calm, composed...kind. You could not help but answer him, even though it would be an unpleasant thing to do so. You reached for the small radio next to your bed and turned it back on to the station you had been listening to. You waited for a while before the newsman returned after the break and continued with more details on the newest strange mass attack on humans that took place in Tokyo the night before.

"That was your friends, right?", you said, your lips trembling even though you knew the answer.

"Yes", he said, "There was a cult forming with knowledge of our kind. I had to eliminate them"

"Do you hear yourself?", you cried as you shot up on your feet, "What did these people even do?"

"It's not what they did, it's what they most likely would have done"

"Get out", you spat. Your voice cracked as you repeated those words again and again.

Suguru did not move. "I will", he said, "But I want you to know, I've never said a single lie to you. And I never will"

You were covering your face with your hands as you cried and so you neither heard nor saw him approach. You startled as he placed a soft kiss on your head.

"I'm sorry", he whispered, "It was never my intention to cause you pain".

"That hardly matters"

"I know", he said. "I know", he repeated it one more time as he touched his forehead to yours.

He turned to leave but stopped right before your door. "If you see Satoru", he said, "Slap him for me. Then kiss him for you".

"What?"

"He's so immature, you need to slap him back to his senses. Or he'll be too late again"

And with that, Suguru returned to the shadows of Tokyo, far away from the light he had found in the small apartment with you.

#geto suguru #suguru geto #geto x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru #jjk angst #geto #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut

292 notes · View notes

icallhimjoey · 4 months

Note

Can we have a sweet and soft Christmas eve with Joey? Just the two of us? pretty please

this was requested at the perfect time, so thank you, and merry christmas my sluts! Wordcount: 1.7K

---

Still Love Me?

"I'm sorry, I'm not crying because I'm upset, d-don't worry, I just..."

You don't get like this very often. Usually, trying to be extra affectionate makes you scrunch your nose up, makes you squirm and laugh and cringe. Makes you push him away, not taking the extra hugs and kisses seriously at all.

Joe doesn't mind.

"What's wrong?"

It's actually nice to not always feel the need to give you more. To not be afraid that maybe you'd be upset after not immediately coming over to hug and kiss you when he'd walk in at the end of the day.

But something's different tonight.

It's likely the holiday stress that's getting to you. Nothing a pair of extra affectionate warm embracing arms won't fix.

"I thought we had more cheese, but all we've got left is this..."

You suppress a sob.

Unsuccessfully.

Joe knows the tears are only there because all of everything has come together for the perfect storm, and you're just about ready to fall apart.

It's sort of cute that it's a lack of cheese that does it, and Joe's secretly glad it's not something that he'd done or said that got you. That it's not his fault, and that he doesn't have to apologise over something unimportant.

It's fine, though, the crying.

Joe had been ready for it.

He's got steady hands and is prepared to catch whatever needs catching. Knows how to put you back together just fine.

"Why did I do this? I've got to stop sneaking things, I– look, there's no... this is all we've got..."

You've got family coming over tomorrow, and it's the first year that your place is the spot for the big get together. It's nerve-racking in new ways you didn't know existed before because you're bringing both sets of parents in, and all you want to do is make the family proud.

Be the perfect daughter.

Have the stepmothers and stepdads get along as well as all of the divorced people. All of the siblings. Step-siblings.

Fuck, there's too many people coming over.

Could you still cancel, do you think?

You just... you just want Christmas be wholesome, and festive, and cosy, full of laughter and love and just... have it be perfect.

It's almost become a bit of a passion project, and it's quite literally driven you mad.

Well. Driven you to tears, at least.

Joe looks over and sees you hold a little block of brie cheese. It's not much, and it's got a bite taken out of it.

"Wait, did you–" Joe's already smiling, because what the fuck is he looking at right now? His girlfriend's got tears in her eyes and is stood in front of the opened fridge door, holding a bit of French cheese that has teeth marks in.

Surely, you are able to imagine what this looks like from his point of view.

It's at least a little funny.

But another sob wracks from your chest and all Joe can do is step closer and wrap arms around your shaking frame.

He's allowed to laugh as he does so.

"I didn't know- I thought we had more, b-but this was all we have, and I snuck a bite last night, because I– I was peckish and just wanted a little something, and–"

"Hey," Joe leans back and gets your face in both his hands. He's still smiling. Can't not smile, because this is ridiculous, but you also look very cute. Red nose. Fat tears stuck in your eyelashes. The colour of your eyes about ten times brighter because of the unshed ones.

"We'll serve 'em dry crackers, and they'll fucking take what they're given, all right?"

You pout and hold up the evidence of your late-night-snack-run in your own kitchen from the night before. It's right in between your faces and gives Joe a chance to really see the cause of the outburst.

"Still love me?"

Joe looks at the brie a second and then lurches forward with a growl, sinking teeth into the soft cheese for a bite of his own.

"Still love you." he replies, mouth full of cheese.

You can't help the choking laugh, head cocking to the side as a defeated soft chuckle leaves you. It only makes Joe want to grab hold of you tighter.

"Hmm," Joe hums, now chewing, and he frowns. "This is good. We should–" he can't finish the sentence without laughing, knowing it's likely the wrong thing to say, but he's already started the sentence. You get a good eyeful of the cheese in his mouth, in between his teeth. "We should get more of this."

Well, you can't.

Hence the crying.

You pout once more and then groan. It's so stupid, you're well aware. You just need a bit of sleep. Your family won't hate you because there's no cheese.

And if anything, you could throw it into the group chat and are sure that at least three people have some brie to bring along tomorrow.

You really are just very tired.

"Tell you what," Joe says, now taking the little piece of cheese from your fingers, one arm still around you. "We'll finish this, have some hot chocolate and just... relax. Watch a Christmas film. Tomorrow is tomorrow and tonight is tonight, you've done enough prepping and it'll all be fine–"

"Perfect." you correct.

It's important that everything will be perfect.

"It'll all be perfect." Joe coos, voice smooth like butter.

You sniff and look at him a moment. He's still chewing. Smiling. Joe's being all playful and it's reminding you of why you love him so much. Glancing into the living room, you know Joe's right. Everything's ready. Everything's done.

It's Christmas Eve.

"Calm before the storm." you sigh, patting Joe where you're holding onto him. Then lower down, quick touch to the bum. Joe easily lets you.

"Calm before the storm." he confirms before you let go of each other. You move to collect yourself, wiping fingers below your eyes, and Joe opens a cupboard to get to mugs out and says, "And I'll go get extra cheese tomorrow, it'll be fine."

You're about to protest. Tell him that the shop you usually go to won't be open. It'll be Christmas. And everyone's stocked up already. Shelves are empty all over. But Joe sees it across your face before you can say anything and adds, "I'll find some, don't worry about it."

And so you don't.

You accept a kiss to your temple, a deep inhale of your hair and you tilt your head for a kiss on the lips. A quiet thank you.

After a squeeze of your arm, Joe gets started on the hot chocolate and you decide to see if there's anything good on TV or if it'll be Netflix for the night.

Before you've been able to make a choice, you hear mugs being filled and you scurry back into the kitchen. You get to the fridge before Joe does, which was the plan. You find the can of squirty cream amongst all of the food and drink - your fridge has never been this full. It's almost triggeringly full; so much food, yet so little cheese.

It takes you too long, and Joe joins to look over your shoulder, to see if he can spot it before you do.

He doesn't.

You find it and giggle excitedly, a little delirious (you've gone mad, remember?) as you shake it with a wild arm. Your demeanor is the opposite of what it was minute earlier.

No tears. Just manic laughter.

Makes Joe laugh just the same. His girlfriend's gone insane and, if he's honest, he's kind of into it.

You spray some cream into both mugs that Joe's filled with hot chocolate, and before you place it back into the fridge, you shake the can again.

"You just said you should stop sneaking things," Joe isn't exactly trying to stop you, but he knows what you're about to do. Feels like it's worth saying something, to maybe prevent a further break down.

It's of no use, though.

His comment makes you glance him pointed a look. It's ridiculous of him to assume you'd been serious. Of course you're not going to stop sneaking things. He doesn't see the deadpan stare you give him because he's busy placing mini marshmallows onto your drinks, but despite the advice, you go for it anyway.

You tip your head back and spray some of the cream directly into your mouth.

"My God," Joe says when you let it go for a little too long, and when he looks, he barks a laugh.

You've overdone it.

It's too much.

Well, is it ever too much? Not really. But it doesn't fit into your mouth and thus there's a problem. This is going to be messy.

With your head still tilted back, you release a small sound of panic at the inability to close your mouth and raise a cupped hand, ready to catch whatever is going to spill.

But Joe knows just the perfect fix, and he's quick.

Before you know what's happening, your boyfriend's got his hand on the back of your neck, digging in strong fingers and guiding your head forward.

Just before whatever your lips can't curl around is about to slide down your chin, Joe's mouthing at it and manages to get it all, tongue licking and lips closing around your opened ones.

What follows is a weird, full-cheeked sticky, creamy, sugary kiss that has you giggling into each others mouths.

It's still messy, but you'd easily do this again. Would it be too obvious if you just went for an insane mouthful once more?

Joe pulls back, sees he's missed a bit and doesn't hesitate to lick at the corner of your mouth, making you shriek with your mouth closed, pushing him away.

"You're gross," you say fondly after swallowing.

He's also adorably sweet, but he doesn't need telling.

Joe lets his head bobble back a little as he silently laughs, wiping at his own mouth with the back of his hand, glad to have been of service.

"Yea? Still love me?"

Tomorrow's going to be fine.

There's no cheese but for the little chunk you're about to share. It'll likely be all gone if you both have a single cracker with some on.

And there probably also won't be any squirty cream left, what with your plan to bring the can over to the sofa for top-ups after you've eaten all of it off. Or, you know, after you've sprayed more of it into your mouth just so Joe can eat it out of there again.

You families can have hot chocolate without any, and Joe's right. They'll fucking take what they'll be given and be grateful.

Or, Joe can find some tomorrow.

Somewhere.

Whatever.

You're no longer fussed.

It's Christmas. Christmas Eve.

"Still love you." you beam, because you do.

You really, really do.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #still love me?

220 notes · View notes

fayes-fics · 10 months

Text

Canvas

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: An art lesson with a different kind of canvas

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, body painting, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, edging.

Word Count: 5.0k

Authors note: Sequel to Inspiration, but not necessary to have read before this. Unbetaed. This is a double request fill for @oureternalbond HERE and anon HERE. I decided to combine these requests as they were so similar (in essence, Benedict uses his wife as his canvas then smut ensues). I hope you enjoy <3

You find him in his studio, a glass conservatory he has co-opted for his artistic endeavours. He is barefoot and dressed only in black trousers and a white shirt, his braces hanging loosely around his hips, looking handsomely casual as he paints by candlelight, dusk settling in. It's then you spy his subject, the lovely arrangement of flowers you received from his family for your birthday last week. You wondered where the bouquet had disappeared to just now as you had wandered through your home—they previously had pride of place in your hallway.

“Stealing my birthday presents, husband?” you jest airily, leaning on the doorframe with crossed arms.

Benedict twists around and shoots you an apologetic smile. “Only the artistically meritorious ones, my love,” he responds, amusement laced into his tone. “Join me?” he suggests, waving his brush towards the empty easel beside him.

“I'm not certain I have anything close to the requisite skills,” you hedge. You have only ever attended his painting sessions as his subject or simply as a companion, mostly reading quietly nearby as he works—one memorable time, sitting naked upon his cock to provide the requisite inspiration. Your blood runs a little warm just at the mere memory of it.

“Art does not always need to be about skill. Enjoyment of the process is just as important, perhaps more so. Besides, I can teach you,” he smiles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling beguilingly. He never fails to convince you with that look.

“Alright,” you sigh fondly, straightening up and uncrossing your arms, “but you are not allowed to ridicule my attempt,” you argue, waggling a finger as you walk over.

He laughs and leans in to drop a kiss on your cheek as you draw up next to him. “I would never!” he promises in a bemused tone. “Everything you need is right there,” he nods to the supplies, “you have watched me paint enough times to know how to set up.”

His confidence in your ability seemed a little unwarranted, but you’ll give it a try.

___

“I cannot do this,” you lament about ten minutes later, looking forlornly between the canvas and the spray of flowers, disappointed in your less-than-accurate rendering. All you have managed is some stems and a vague version of the vase, which looks uneven.

“Nonsense,” he dismisses, “you are doing wonderfully for your first time, my love,” he adds patiently.

You twist around with a knitted brow to look at him. “Benedict, please… your flattery is obsequious. This is… not good,” you sigh, scratching your chin with the wooden end of your brush.

“Perhaps I can assist your efforts?” he offers, putting down his brush into a jar of water and placing his palette aside.

“Please…” you request gratefully.

A smile ghosts your lips as he rounds behind you, pushing you closer to the canvas, a hand landing on your hip under the arm you balance the palette upon, and the other curling around yours, holding the brush. His fingers are warm and soft.

“Now then,” his voice is rich and rumbles right next to your ear, “the first thing is to start with the colour there is the most of on the object, and then you can start to add in light and shade… are you quite alright?” he interrupts himself as you fidget slightly.

“All is well,” you reassure.

But it's a lie. The moment he stands close behind you, your traitorous body decides this is not an art lesson at all. No, it’s something quite different. Readying itself for him with quite remarkable speed and absolutely no effort on his part. Quite astonishing, really. You attempt to listen as he sonorously explains the method involved and makes your selection on the palette and brushstrokes over the canvas. But you are half-listening and half-participating at best.

His breath tickles the wisps of hair around your ears as he seems to lean in closer until he surrounds you with his long arms and body heat. He smells of his woodsy soap, and you have to tamp down the urge to twist your nose into his strong neck and inhale deeply. For a few minutes, he guides your hand, and you relax into the motion, enjoying the sensation of being so utterly engulfed by him much more than the act.

“Now, how about you try?” he voices, gently removing his hand from yours.

You stutter, realising you were not taking on board what he was saying, distracted by the striking mental image of him painting a glistening line across your collarbone, a bright golden streak over your bare flesh. You try to remember what he said and make a hesitant dab on the canvas, but there is a disapproving noise against your temple.

“That is not what I told you to do, now, is it?” he teases lowly.

“I do not know how to do it…” you confess in a breathy whisper. “Please guide me for a little longer, Benedict,” you implore.

“Were you listening to a word I said?” he asks, but it's not a disapproving tone. Not remotely. It’s a liting rumble, his face turning into yours so the tip of his nose nuzzles your earlobe, his breath hot on your jaw.

You suspect your lack of attention to his instruction may have been found out.

“People pay good money for me to teach them how to paint,” he breathes into your ear, both hands now on your hips, fingers circling over the diaphanous layers of your thin, silk gown. “And yet here is my wife, not even listening to her expert teacher.”

“I am… I…” you give up, knowing it's a pointless lie. You try a different tack. “I should hope you do not treat your other students in this manner?” you throw back, rocking onto your heels so the press of your bodies is greater.

“Indeed I do not,” he murmurs, and you inhale sharply as his teeth graze the shell of your ear.

“So perhaps this is somewhat unfair to me,” you posit, pouting your lips, knowing his eyes are watching you side on.

He chuckles richly. “Perhaps,” and he gently slides the paintbrush from between your fingers. “There is another method by which I can teach you all about the pleasures of painting.”

“Oh, and what is that?” you breathe, closing your eyes as warm lips land on your neck, that weak spot which makes you completely pliant.

“It requires a different canvas,” he whispers, his lips catching on your skin.

For a fleeting moment, you consider if he could read where your thoughts had skated only minutes earlier; again, you think of golden paint on your flesh. There is a faint ting as he drops the brush into a glass jar of water and eases the palette from where it is hooked around your thumb, and you do not fight it; just stand still and attempt to regulate your breathing, eagerly awaiting what he will do next.

Your heart rate spikes as deft fingers undo the buttons between your shoulder blades.

“You have such beautiful skin,” he sighs, his lips dropping warm onto the top of your shoulder as your dress relents and falls in a pool around you. “I want to paint you.”

Your breath hitches as he runs a knuckle down the notches of your spine; glad you didn’t bother with a chemise. Your eyes fall closed as he kisses your skin again and plucks open the laces of your stays. When the material slackens, he pulls the structured fabric away from your body and tosses it aside, his hands instantly cupping your breasts and pulling you back into him.

Your moan is wanton as you writhe, his fingers snagging your nipples as they pebble against his palm. One hand sweeps down to the little buttons on your silk underwear and deftly flicks them open as his other hand is busy, making your nipple into a stiff peak.

“Lay down, darling wife,” he murmurs, the tone laden, as your underwear slips around your ankles.

He gestures to the oversized double chaise conveniently covered in a heavy canvas drop cloth. It’s almost as if he planned for this. You hold his hand delicately as he assists you into a reclined position.

“Will you not be getting naked too, husband?” you coo, watching as he returns for a palette and brush.

“It would certainly make clean-up easier,” he smirks and rips off his shirt, tossing it aside.

Then he walks back to you, a slight swagger in his gait, knowing he has your undivided, breathy attention as your eyes covetously drink in his torso.

“Gold…” escapes your lips unbidden and stops him in his tracks as he towers above you.

“Gold, what?” his query warm, but puzzled as he places the art supplies on the floor next to the chaise.

“When I dream of you painting me, my body,” you confess, “it’s always gold.”

He leans over, his face etched with desire. “You dream of me doing this?”

“Yes,” you murmur, “Your cool, wet brush swirling over my heated skin….” you close your eyes and bite your lip, lost in the reverie of it.

“Tell me more,” he implores, his breath hot on your cheek, the chaise squeezing as he sits beside you. “Keep your eyes closed if it helps,” he adds, moving back; it sounds like he is fiddling with the supplies.

“You start at my neck….” you sigh, inhaling sharply when a wet ticklish brush lands right on the left side of your neck, then holds still.

“And then?” he prompts gently.

“Then… you do a swooping line over my chin to my other ear,” you breathe, gasping as he does exactly as you describe, the smell of fresh paint filling your nostrils, the feel of it wet and heavy.

“What is next?” his voice is dark and sweet now, goading you into more detail.

“Then you paint a line down the side of my neck, over here…” you gesture at your collarbone, “...then lower,” you end in a whisper, almost reluctant to admit how erotic your fantasies of him can be.

Nothing, however, can prepare you for those errant thoughts becoming a reality—the drag of cold buttery substance, each bristle a damp tickle as he smears a line to the swell of your breast, your eyes flying open to see his gaze heavy and intense on the task in hand. Your nipple pebbles almost painfully, even though he does not stray close to it, surrounding your breast with a golden loop, his pupils dilating, his breath hot on your skin, leaning close.

“Does that feel good?” he practically purrs.

You nod, feeling the wetness blotting across your neck at your movement.

Without asking you what happens next in your dream, he takes the initiative and traces a line around your other breast, the brush dipping into the valley of your breastbone before continuing. When you tip your head to see his handiwork, the metallic hue shines bright in the candlelight.

“May I use other colours on you too, my love?” his question is almost reverential in tone.

“I am yours, Benedict,” you sigh honestly, “do with me as you wish.”

Those words light an artistic and sensual fire in his eyes; he pushes up to kiss you, plundering your mouth with a possessive kiss. When he pulls away, you feel dazed, desperate for more, but you watch patiently as he reaches for another clean brush on the floor by his feet and selects a new choice from the palette.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You do as he asks, aching to know what hue it is. You gasp as a broader brush runs across your skin, starting at your neck and sweeping down, shadowing the path of the other line already drying on your skin.

“What colour?” your curiosity getting the better of you.

“What is your favourite on me?” he teases gently, his strokes seeming to concentrate most on the sensitive skin under your breast, making your thoughts fuzzy, distracted—you know it's intentional.

“You look good in so many colours,” you offer; it's the truth. “I love your light gold cravat,” you add with a sigh, knowing he has already used that shade at your request.

“You are stalling, my love,” he points out with a bemused tone, teasingly flicking the ends of his brush in the spot closest to your underarm.

“Blue? You always look so handsome in every shade of blue, from navy to sky,” you guess.

“Oh, then that shall have to be next,” he lilts, telling you that you have guessed incorrectly.

You mentally flick through some of your favourite of his outfits, squirming slightly at the images you see, his brush still teasing. Then there is a lightbulb moment.

“Burgundy red!” you exclaim, remembering the waistcoat he wore on the day you met, the one that made you lose the power of speech, temporarily tongue-tied, never having seen a man wear such fine silks before.

“Well done, darling,” he compliments.

You open your eyes to see he has interwoven the harmonious shades in an exquisite arching design, truly using your skin as a canvas.

“Now lay still; there is much work still to do,” he instructs softly.

You settle into the chaise, your belly fluttering as he slips lower, daubing your diaphragm in intricate loops, trying to keep your breaths shallow for a still surface. He swaps brush again, back to gold, holding the other in his knuckle, the rich red loaded tip contrasting his pale skin.

When he sinks below your ribs onto your belly, you bite your lip, the light touch tickling you to the point of giggling. You try your best not to move, but when he glides over a sensitive patch, it bubbles out of you on reflex.

His gaze pings up to your face, a lopsided grin claiming his features. “Does that tickle?” he mocks gently. You can only giggle more in reply as he teases even lighter over that weak spot.

“Stop it,” you whisper, knowing how much he enjoys the tease.

“Never,” he responds lightly, lowering his face; you jolt as he lightly bites your bare nipple, and you cry out. “I veritably exist to tease you; you are so beautiful like this,” he whispers, pausing in his artistry, pressing you into the chaise with his body weight.

“Look at you,” you giggle as he pulls away again, seeing smears of pain across his chest.

“That is nothing. I expect both of our bodies will be a riot of colours by the time I am done with you, wife.” His tone is simultaneously light with mirth and dark with promise.

“Perhaps you should speed up,” you answer playfully; it may dry before you have the opportunity.” He laughs, teething your other nipple before refreshing the line.

“Not a chance.”

Just as your stomach clenches at the idea he will move lower, he grabs your right arm and concentrates his efforts there as if to elongate the burn of anticipation you feel. It's less ticklish until he swipes the crook of your elbow over your veins, making you giggle again, meeting his hazy blue eyes with an intense stare. Wordlessly he kisses your hand before swapping to your left arm, creating free-hand a mirror image of the pattern on your right. It's striking, and somewhat ironically, you wish there was a portrait of you looking like this, covered in his design.

As you are lost in your reverie of that thought, he slips lower on the chaise, and you gasp as he restarts the line at your middle and swirls down all over your belly. He employs a heavier stroke so as not to tickle as much, alternating the two, holding both brushes with ease between his long artistic fingers. You have to bite back a moan when one swoop goes lower, skating along the top of your pubic hair.

“Open your legs,” his voice low and decadent. Feeling a burning low in your gut, you draw up your knees a few inches and part your legs a fraction, keeping your feet together. “I said…” he grabs your ankle and plants it at the edge of the chaise, out wide, “...open your legs,” his voice dark, making you flush hot.

You meekly move your other foot to match the stance, now lewdly spread before him.

“Much better,” his voice rough as his gaze is heavy on your core. “Do not move,” he commands.

You pant lightly as he resumes, leaning in so close you can feel his breath on your inner thighs. He paints a line from your belly down over your hip and up your thigh. It's the longest he has done, ending with a flourish at your kneecap. Then he swaps the brushes and traces along the same path in the dark red.

“What of the navy blue husband?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice even, even though you feel a slight tremble in your body at the contrast of the cool liquid and the warm flush of arousal.

“All in good time. You should not rush an artist at work, darling,” he replies playfully.

“What if your canvas is in need?” you inquire quietly.

“Where does my darling canvas have a need, hmm?” he asks duskily, intentionally acting obtuse even as his breath puffs close to the place you want him the most.

He runs a line achingly slow down your inner thigh, looping under into the crease where your buttock meets your thigh, the odd feeling making goose bumps break out across your surrounding skin, the tilt of his face right above where you burn so hot.

“Here, perhaps?” he whispers, and you cry out as his warm wet mouth opens wide on your folds.

One of your hands shoots down to grasp his hair as he unfurls his tongue, swiping deep into your folds, lapping the overflowing well of moisture there. You stare down the plane of your body, watching the colour on your inner thigh streak across his clavicle and shoulder as he drinks from your body, pulling your pearl between his lips and sucking so hard you see stars. His eyes fly open and hold yours; his gaze is fiery as he swipes under your clitoral hood. His tongue dabs the most sensitive spot, the one that makes your leg want to kick out and go rigid from the intense sensation. Just as you start to writhe and moan, he pulls back. You pout in disbelief as he calmly returns to painting.

“How can you tease me so?!” you lament, chest heaving, hand falling from its grip on his chestnut locks.

He laughs and continues with his art, your concentration barely registering it, your heartbeat throbbing in your abandoned, swollen clit.

“Please, Benedict,” you appeal, absentmindedly watching him switch to the other shade.

It seems he is ignoring you as his brow knits in concentration, glancing at your other leg to ensure, as with your arms, it is an exact mirror. It's undoubtedly stunning, but somehow your interest in it has waned, all of your thoughts of needing his mouth back where it was.

You plead again and almost want to cry in relief as he seems to huff sympathetically and move so his face is again a fraction from where you want him. After one long, indulgent swipe through your soaked folds that has you gasping loudly, he stops, rears up and quickly climbs over your body, his lips landing on yours, damp and tangy with your desire. Shaking with unsated need, you whimper against his musky tongue as he kisses you deeply.

“Please,” your voice has a tremulant quality betraying your need, he has taken you to the edge, and the denial makes you prickle hot all over.

“Soon,” it’s a whispered promise, “your skin is too arresting of a sight flushed like this. I need to paint more upon this gorgeous canvas,” he sighs, leaning over to scoop up his brushes again.

“Benedict, please,” you writhe, letting your legs fall closed, hoping to rub against your clit, eager for stimulation.

“Open your legs,” he tuts as he returns his attention to you, parting your knees carefully with his hands, avoiding his handiwork. “If you keep misbehaving, darling, I shall not let you come,” he warns with an arched brow.

“Then I shall have to touch myself,” you sass, squaring your jaw in defiant playfulness.

“We shall see about that,” he challenges. “Give me your fingers.” Hazy, you allow him to encircle your wrist, only startling when large beads of wetness daub your fingertips. “There we go, navy blue,” he smirks, grabbing your other hand and repeating the action.

You stare at him dumbfounded, realising you cannot touch yourself now without a mess. That smug crooked smile is still there as you watch him crawl slowly between your legs before diving facefirst into you again, making you scream. You want to grip his hair, but with your fingers now dripping with navy, you feel you should refrain. However, when he loops his arms around your hips, you grab his wrists instead as they frame your thighs. Slathering streaks of dark blue on his pale forearms as he lashes you with his tongue, you calling his name.

He is ravenous, using his whole face to arouse your senses, the stubble of his chin abraiding your labia as he once again teases you, suckling your clit into his mouth, circling his tongue in firm strokes, undulating and spearing it just where you need, as if intuiting what you need at any moment, The tip of his nose is burrowed into your patch of hair, inhaling your scent as if he cannot get enough of your taste and smell, his primal behaviour just making your more wanton for him.

He moans, muffled encouragements into your cunt, the cadence vibrating up into your pubic bone. You stare transfixed at him, decadent, delicious, filthy, a debauched and erotic tableau, the skin pulling taunt over his high cheekbones as he consumes you. Just as your pussy starts to flutter, he pulls up and teases you, pursing his lips and blowing a slow puff of air over your overheated pearl. It's not enough and too much all at once, such a different sensation from his lathing tongue. He chuckles as you groan in frustration and grasp his wrists tightly, fingernails digging blue crescents into his flesh, hoping to incite him back into action.

Instead, he shakes off your grip and swiftly stands up and roughly tugs at the buttons on his trousers, smirking down at you as you turn breathless again with desire, holding your painted fingers on either side of your head as he drops the fabric. As ever, he is without underwear, and even though his straining cock is a familiar sight, every time, it steals your breath and makes you pulse deep inside, just for him.

He prowls over your prone body, almost cat-like, admiring his handiwork. “You are my masterpiece,” the awed but somehow still achingly seductive tone he employs makes your hips cant up towards him, a reflex, your body seeking his.

Uncaring of the mess it will leave, you run your navy fingertips from his chest to his pelvis, curling a little to scrape your nails into the paint trails. It looks like animal claws—as if you are marking him, possessive. His response is a growl at you, hoisting your legs into the crook of his elbow and with a flash of something primal in his eyes, he surges into your weeping body with one swift thrust.

It makes you call his name. So loudly that you know the staff will hear it throughout the house. You don’t care—don’t care if they come running to check on your welfare and find you naked and decorated, pinned under your husband as he begins to fuck into you, so roughly the whole chaise squeaks and moves across the tiled floor. His body curled over yours, his large hand above your head gripping the raised chaise end for leverage.

Lost in the carnality of how he is taking you, your walls clinging to his plunging cock, you band your arms around him, smearing long finger trails down the contours of his back until you reach his buttocks and squeeze them covetously, encouraging him to push deeper, go harder, and make it hurt. The glorious, intricate pattern on your skin still tacky, causing your flesh to cling to his and smudge together, the blue on him with the gold and burgundy from you. Blotches and smears that look so vibrant on his pale skin.

“Are you close again, my love?” his question, a touch breathless as he thrusts into you.

You hiss your confirmation, eyes rolling as you grasp his cheeks again and force your legs wider, greedy for him, for more. For him to push so far into your body, it will feel like he’s always there, even when he’s not, like some internal tattoo of him carved into your being.

“More Benedict… please,” urgent now. It feels like all you’ve done for hours is plead with him, needing to release so badly your mind feels akin to madness, an itch in your brain that needs to be scratched.

But he slows, and you want to scream in frustration, his movements shallow, delicate, not the onslaught you need to take you over the precipice he has dangled you over what feels like countless times.

“I love to see this,” his voice husky, breath puffing hot on your face, “when you are so unbridled with need, darling. I cannot resist taking you so close and denying you: the wild look, your untamed desire. All for me.”

You move your hands from his behind and grab his jaw, uncaring that you plaster his face with blue fingermarks. “It's always for you, just you, Benedict, my love, my life,” you affirm, hoping that is what he needs to hear to finally release you from this heightened state of near delirium.

His responding grin is breathtaking, and he begins to plough into you in earnest, his gaze never leaving yours, eyes burning to witness the moment you break for him. The chaise protests loudly, the wooden feet scraping hard on the floor under his unforgiving pace.

You bite your lip and plead with your eyes, wanting his expert touch to push you over.

“Your fingers, please,” you implore, and suddenly three are shoved between your lips, traces of the bitter taste of paint there, along with the tang of sweat and the flavour that is all him.

“Get them nice and wet, darling,” he lectures, not slowing his pace. You greedily wrap your tongue around his invading digits and slather them in your saliva, drooling around him as his thrusts jolt your entire body. “Yes darling, that's it,” he encourages, and he snarls as you run an edge of teeth over his cuticles, goading him, loving to see him as lost in the potency of the moment as you.

Then with a look that always makes you breathless, he slides the fingers out of your mouth, and they snake between your bodies, finding your engorged clit with ease. You scream his name, and a few harsh flicks are all you need to tip over, clenching so hard around his cock that his hips stutter and he roars into your ear as you fracture around him. Waves of pleasure ripple across your body, almost violent, your muscles spasming, your limbs shaking uncontrollably after being denied.

Distantly, as if through cotton wool, you hear him cursing and growling your name, teeth pressing into the cord of your neck as he curls around you with one final jerk and a loud, guttural groan, he stills, his body stiff, a vein pulsing heavily in his neck and forehead as he empties into you, warmth blooming deep inside you as he spills. Shortly after, he collapses onto his forearms, bracketing your body, mindful not to squash you under his weight as he pants, heaving breaths, his chest bumping yours with each ragged inhale.

You don't say words; just trail the remaining blue paint on your fingers across the skin of his shoulders, connecting the collage of freckles there into a slanted star-like shape. Below a certain point, your bodies resemble a rainbow; the detail he built so carefully now merely a smudge of lively streaks.

“Did you enjoy your painting lesson, my love?” his tone whimsical as his breathing returns to normal.

You giggle and push up to plant a kiss on his smiling lips. “You know I did, Mr Bridgerton; you are a wonderful teacher,” you wink; his responding laugh makes your whole body jiggle under him.

“Now to get clean,” he hums drolly, his grin lopsided and winsome. “I believe we may need to share a bath.”

“Or swim in the lake,” you posit jokingly, rolling your head to look out of the large glass panes, down across the moonlit grass to the water beyond. When you tilt your head back, his look is priceless. His eyebrows shoot up, and that grin grows wider.

“I love how you think,” he gusts, and you squeal as he scoops you in his arms bridal style, and before you know it, he has elbowed open the French doors and is carrying you to the water’s edge.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

896 notes · View notes