#this got longer than i meant for it to be

[luffington]

young master ♡

➤ summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 3.7k

➤ warnings: kinda sub!doflamingo (he’s a horny menace), mild dubcon, possessive doffy, spit kink, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), degradation, name-calling

➤ notes: this takes place before dressrosa but i’m only halfway done with the arc so sorry for any inaccuracies! i haven't posted my writing online in years so please lmk what you think :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Doflamingo was sulking. His signature smile was comically turned upside down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Feet resting on top of his desk as he leaned back in his plush office chair, crumpling the important documents strewn underneath them that he was meant to review and sign. He knew he probably looked like a petulant child, and he felt like one, too. This was all your fucking fault.

Even though you were only in your twenties, you were already a well-known Vice Admiral. Vergo had informed Doflamingo of your impressive Haki abilities months ago, but that wasn’t the only reason he kept a close eye on you. You were sexy as hell, even in a Marines uniform, and he delighted in every brief interaction he had with you at Warlord meetings. When you decided to take some time off, he snatched you up immediately with a tantalizing job offer. After all, working for him was technically still a Government job, and he was helping so many countries in need!

You made it clear from the very beginning that this was a temporary gig and you had no intention of permanently joining the Donquixote Family. You were his business partner, not his subordinate. He never planned on honoring that agreement, of course, but you were making his plans particularly difficult. 

The man had hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of loyal and passive subjects. Obedient workers who never questioned his judgment and praised his iron fist, from the filthy commoners at the bottom to the Elite Officers up top. But not you. 

You had the kind of effortless confidence that got under his skin. You were unbothered and detached from his evil antics, from him. He made his presence known everywhere he went and was always the focus of the room, but it seemed like you paid more attention to the damn servants than him. His threats and intimidation which made thousands tremble in fear hardly made you flinch. When he revealed the secret of Dressrosa’s toys in hopes of getting a reaction from you, you practically yawned. 

You knew who he was. You knew what he was capable of. You didn’t fucking care.

You weren’t afraid of him, and this greatly disturbed him.

A few days ago, you had strolled into his office without even knocking on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but you barely took notice. You were there to discuss your agreement in order to figure out a time frame of how long he needed you. He threw his head back and laughed loudly as he said, “That’s adorable. You really think you can get away from me, hm?”

Perceptive as always, you noticed the slightest twitch of his middle finger and immediately held an Armament Haki-coated hand in front of your chest, blocking the nearly invisible string flung your way. “Doffy, I’m being serious.”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Diamante used that nickname once in front of you and now you wouldn’t call him anything else. You thought it was cute. “Since when can you block my strings?”

“Do you really think I’d be a Vice Admiral if I couldn’t do that? You were so obvious about it, too.” You clicked your tongue, knowing full well that anyone less powerful than you wouldn’t be able to perceive his movement. Prominent veins popped in Doflamingo’s forehead but the blonde man stayed silent. “I think I’ll stay here for a few more months, at least. Maybe longer if I don’t have a terrible time here. Dressrosa is kind of growing on me.” 

“You’re acting like I can’t keep you here by force.” Doflamingo interrupted your train of thought. “I could have Sugar turn you into a cute little doll, and then your Vice Admiral position would disappear. Or Giolla could turn you into a painting to hang on my wall.” He paused as if considering his options, knowing full well what he truly wanted. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up with strings as my own personal pet.”

Many times he’d pictured you tied to the headboard of his bed, stripped naked and covered in his drying cum as he used you however he wanted. Perhaps then he’d finally ignite a spark of fear in you. 

“If you actually wanted to do that, it would’ve happened already. But you’re the one who hired me, remember?” You acted like you were explaining something obvious to a kid. “If you try anything against me, I can always call up the Navy and tell them what you’re doing to your poor innocent citizens. Maybe even let them know your alias? Begins with a J, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He snarled, sitting up in his seat immediately and binding strings around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head. You kept your eyes trained on his, a determined and almost taunting glint in them. 

“I’m not a big fan of blackmail, so I don’t want to do that,” you replied in an even tone. “I’m just saying that I can. Now, are we gonna talk business, or are you gonna play cat’s cradle all day?”

Doflamingo should’ve killed you right then and there. That would’ve put an end to his confusing thoughts about you, but your conversation only made them worse. You were on his mind constantly, to the point where he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was an obsession, an infatuation, one completely unbecoming of a heavenly being like himself. People were meant to grovel at his feet and kiss the very ground he walked on – why the fuck were you not affected?

He finally had enough. He pushed the chair away from his desk and stormed out of his office. Servants hurried away in fear, knowing that his scowl and heavy footsteps meant nothing but trouble. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around his mind — he wanted to make you scream, to completely immobilize you with his power, to kiss you so hard you saw stars. No, that wasn’t it. 

He wanted you to call him ‘Young Master’. 

Doflamingo threw open the double doors to a secluded drawing room in his typical dramatic flair. You were alone, reclining on a couch and reading a book. Even this pissed him off – you were in a potential viper’s nest, surrounded by powerful people who could turn on you at any point, yet you didn’t feel the need to keep others around you for protection. You turned your head towards the intruder in confusion. His massive body filled the door frame and light from the hallway illuminated him and his feathery coat from behind, making him look like a fallen angel.

“What Devil Fruit did you eat.” It was a statement, not a question. His voice was a dangerously low growl. 

“I already told you, I didn’t eat one.” You said slowly, slightly thrown off by his demeanor but still not afraid. 

“You lying bitch!” He roared, using his strings to slam the doors behind him as he crossed the room towards you in three giant steps. “You must have some kind of mind control ability, or manipulation, or… I don’t fucking know! Tell me what’s happening!” He threw his head in his hands and crouched over, almost as if he was in pain. “Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about you!”

Your mouth opened slightly and you blinked a few times to process the situation, and then it hit you. A sly grin slowly formed on your face as you dog-eared your book and set it down next to you. You knew this man was incapable of love in its purest sense, but maybe… “Doffy, have you never been attracted to someone before?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you furiously behind his sunglasses. Of course he’d fucking been attracted to people – he refused to settle for nothing but the best with his lovers. He had fucked enough sexy men and women over the years to form a small army. But none of them were like you. 

They were all cheaply made toys, suitable for one or two uses then tossed in the trash when they broke or when he got bored. He was a greedy and spoiled child who always got what he wanted. But with you… it felt like he was staring through the front window of a shop at a shiny new toy. So close and so enticing but completely out of reach.

“Fuck you! I… I…” You would never know how that sentence was supposed to end, because he sunk to his knees and hung his head in frustrated shame. He slammed his fist against the floor hard enough to rattle the room. “Why won’t you belong to me?!”

The almighty King of Dressrosa, the feared Warlord, the powerful underground broker, was on his knees begging for you. He knew he sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. But he couldn’t go a moment longer without getting what he wanted, what was rightfully his. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had always stood your ground because you knew your worth, but sometimes you did it to purposely push the blonde man’s buttons since no one else seemed to have the courage to do so. But you were just teasing him – this was not the outcome you had in mind. 

You slowly stood from the couch to move in front of him. Even bent over, the massive man was practically your height, but he had never seemed smaller.

“Doffy,” you began in a quiet voice and reached out to gently touch his feather-clad shoulder, but he slammed the ground again. 

“I don’t need you to patronize me! I need…” he trailed off again and hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do to calm the fire roaring inside him. Fine, he would give you a fucking reason to worship him. He threw himself at your midsection, making you yelp in surprise. He had finally drawn a reaction out of you, and it spurred him on even more. Rough hands yanked your shirt up to your breasts and he hungrily mouthed at the soft skin of your tummy, a frenzied mess of tongue and teeth and soft lips. “I need you. Give yourself to me.” He said breathlessly, punctuating his words with a sharp bite at your hip. 

You were frozen in place but weak in the knees, unable to do anything but accept his bites and bruises. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined what his long tongue and nimble fingers felt like on your body, in your body. He nipped at your skin hard enough to bruise then soothed it with his tongue, sending heat straight to your core. 

Doflamingo was in a drugged-like haze, mind clouded with a dizzying mix of lust and hatred and longing. He belatedly noticed that you weren’t resisting him when he popped the button on your jeans. When he looked up, he realized your cheeks were flushed and your gaze was trained on his long fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants. 

He smiled wickedly, feeling a sliver of regained control. “You fucking whore. You want this, don’t you?”

“Doffy, you’re the one literally trying to get in my pants.”

“Shut up.” He snarled, annoyed yet allured by your sweet giggle afterwards. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles to reveal pretty pink lace panties underneath. They practically matched the color of his coat – you had to have worn those just for him. Might as well take them later. 

A needy and unashamed whine tore from his lips when he saw your pussy. Even more perfect than he’d imagined all those times he fucked his fist alone in bed. He told himself this was what was necessary to crush that annoying ego of yours, knowing full well he was nearly shaking with pure carnal desire. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise and shoved your thighs apart before diving in. His tongue was ravenous, licking a sloppy stripe from your ass to your clit, mouth closing around the nub and sucking harshly. The sweetest moan he’d ever heard fell from your lips and he echoed it, eager to hear more. 

Fingers tangled in his short blonde hair as you tried to steady yourself. It was too much all at once. You tried to tug him away to tell him to slow down, yet wanted to pull him even closer. Doflamingo flinched at the contact. Part of him wanted to tie your hands behind your back because how dare you touch him without permission. But instead, he groaned at the rough pull on his scalp, which went straight to his hardening cock. His grip on you tightened as he dragged you further onto his face.

His long tongue lapped messily at your folds then slipped into your cunt, shallowly thrusting the wet tip in and out. He laughed in delight at your delicious juices coating his tastebuds and making his head spin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He panted and rubbed his nose against your clit, making you jump. A sloppy string of his saliva still connected his mouth to your entrance. “I think you like me after all.”

“I’d like anyone who eats me out this good,” you quipped.

“But no one’s as good as me, hm?” To prove his point, he shoved the entirety of his skilled tongue deep inside you. You threw your head back and whined as the wet muscle curled and twisted inside you, hungrily lapping at your sensitive inner walls. “No one will ever be as good as me. Say you’re mine and you can have this every day.”

“F-fuck, Doffy… so, mmh, good…” He ate you out like a man starved, desperately sucking at every part of your pussy he could reach. One hand moved from your hip, leaving dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises behind, and plunged into his own pants. He let out a deep groan at the contact.

“Call me Young Master.” Doflamingo breathed heavily as he pulled his pants down slightly. Your jaw dropped when he revealed his massive and fully erect dick, leaking beads of precum and bobbing against his stomach. You knew he’d be big based on his height, but this was inhuman. The blonde man noticed your hungry gaze and chuckled. “You want me so badly. Stop denying the truth and I’ll give you everything you want. I am a benevolent king, after all.”

You actually laughed at that, and he didn’t even try to be angry – being on full display for you meant he couldn’t hide the way your disobedience made his cock twitch. His other hand slithered between your legs and rubbed at your folds and the smile fell off your face.

You stumbled backwards – there was nothing behind you to lean on and your legs were quickly turning into jelly. “W-wait, Doffy, I can’t, ahh, l-let me sit…”

Two of his fingers moved downwards and bound your feet to the floor with his string. Immobilizing your bottom half like a statue but intentionally leaving your top half free to grab at his hair and body as you pleased. “Your king will grant you permission to move when I want to.” 

“S’okay, I l-like seeing you look up to me for once.” Your witty reply was lost on the blonde, who had spread your folds apart and was hypnotized by your entrance clenching around nothing. You were so fucking tiny compared to him and he ached at the thought of molding your insides to take him and him alone.

Just one thick finger was enough to make you moan and pant, slowly pushing its way inside your cunt. “Shit, you’re so tight.” The soft squelches of your inner walls rang in his ears and pretty pearls of precum leaked from his dick. “Perfect fucking pussy. Give it to me.”

A second digit was soon added, scissoring you apart expertly. Unsurprisingly, the man really knew how to use his fingers. He crooked them and brushed against your most sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and hold onto him even harder. Sharp teeth playfully bit at your inner thigh in response. Doflamingo gathered some of the constant dribble of precum from the tip of his cock to lube his rough palm. He considered making you spit on his hand to ease the glide, but a better idea came to mind.

“Spit in my mouth.” He ordered, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out. Waiting for you to follow his command like a good toy.

You were taken aback by the sudden request, but you gathered a ball of spit in your mouth like you were told… and it landed directly on the lens of his sunglasses, obscuring the vision of one eye. Doflamingo knew that it wasn’t just badly aimed. This was an act of defiance. You intentionally spit on his defining accessory, his very essence.

“You stupid slut.” The venomous insult came with a maniacally pleased grin. He pushed the stained glasses onto his forehead and you finally saw his eyes for the first time. Gorgeous and bright blue with lust-blown pupils. Looking at his beautifully depraved expression in its entirety, you briefly wondered if he really was an angel. His fingers sped up to a nearly brutal pace and he slipped in a third digit, causing you to choke on your spit. “Love me. Love me.”

A divine being who fell from heaven to beg at your feet. 

“Y-you’re fucking insane,” you panted with a blissful smile, your cunt clenching down deliciously on him. “Make up your, mmh, mind.”

“Adore me.” He responded immediately. “Say you’re mine. Be mine.”

Even though you refused to respond, the blonde was lost in his fantasies yet grounded in the reality of your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure. Mouth hanging open, hands nearly going numb from how hard you held onto him. He needed to see you like this every day – no, every hour. He could keep you under his desk like a pet, ready to suck his dick whenever he allowed you to. Or maybe you’d sit in his lap all day, one of his hands fondling your tits as he attended meetings and forced his subordinates to watch him play with his favorite toy. 

But that was too mundane. He could snatch up anyone in Dressrosa right now and do the same. No, the twisted fantasy that really made his cock ache was already happening. That annoyingly sexy confidence of yours was threatening his godliness. 

Maybe he’d make you step on him next time.

“Call me Young Master,” he begged again, too far gone to realize how ridiculous he sounded. Tongue hanging out like a dog (and panting like one, too), he rutted into his hand even faster. His cock was absolutely throbbing, red and angry and dripping precum. He was in no position to be giving orders. You stifled a giggle with your hand, which quickly turned into a moan as his fingers bumped against your cervix. 

“I already t-told you,” you sucked in a few shaky breaths. He was watching you intently and still smiling, but his fingers never slowed down. “You’re not my –mm– Master, I don’t, ahh, work for you…”

“But why not?” He whined again. “At least call me it when you cum. I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.” 

You didn’t acknowledge the ridiculously empty threat, instead throwing your head back when his fingers crooked against your most sensitive spot. Slick was dribbling down your legs – Doflamingo licked it off of your thighs before slurping around his digits buried inside you. The blonde echoed your unashamedly loud moans, practically on the edge himself. He only needed one thing to send him into a rapturous white bliss. 

He stared up at you unblinkingly, face frozen in a grin as he took in all the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. Sweat dribbled down your forehead, eyebrows furrowed together, body tense and breath hot. “I-I’m gonna… gonna…” He crooked his fingers inside you the way he’d done thousands of times to turn people into obedient little puppets.

“Doffy~!” Your face contorted into the most divine expression he’d ever seen, crying out his name like a desperate prayer. 

You ignored his order. You used that stupid fucking nickname. 

He came hard. 

The tight coil that had been building in his groin for days at the mere thought of you finally snapped. An animalistic moan left his lips as thick ropes of cum coated his hand and spilled onto his abdomen. He looked even more blissed out than you, panting hard and shuddering and nearly overstimulating himself with the hand on his cock still slowly moving up and down. 

Doflamingo finally removed his fingers from inside you and loudly sucked them clean of your essence. Still craning his neck upwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. You could lose yourself inside that piercing gaze, so full of obsession and hunger, especially when it was coming from a position of worship rather than condescension. 

Blinking out of your stupor, you realized the blonde’s cum-coated hand was in front of your mouth. If you were anyone else, he would’ve shoved his fingers all the way to your throat and made you choke on it. Instead, he stayed still and kept quiet. This was an offering. 

You grabbed his wrist and kitten-licked his sticky palm twice, humming thoughtfully as if appraising the taste. His grin grew even wider. Then you pulled away and teasingly said, “You take care of the rest of it.”

Doflamingo simply giggled in delight — you’d willingly tasted the essence of a god, one that was soon to be your god, but you were still too stubborn to give in. He didn’t expect you to crumble so easily and he didn’t want you to. He was having way too much fun. The blonde smeared the rest of his cum on the crotch of the pink panties still pooled around your ankles. 

“That’s disgusting.” You huffed in annoyance and rolled your eyes. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

The man chuckled lowly and rose to his feet, suddenly towering above you at full height. He wiped the dried spit off of his sunglasses before returning them to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose. 

“Who said anything about leaving?” You paled at the sight of his devilish grin but felt your core clench in need. “You still haven’t called me by my proper title.”

#mine #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo smut #doffy x reader #doflamingo #doffy #one piece x reader #one piece smut #my fics #donquixote doflamingo

[peachhcs]

congrats em!!!

person A going out with person B for the first time in public to announce their relationship

perosn a- reader

perosn b -jack hughes

showing you off

jack hughes x fem!reader

you and jack finally make your relationship public!

1.4k words

i've never written for jack before, so i hope this is good 🫣 thank you again for sending in requests for the celly. i'm so excited to write about other hockey players!!

700 celly masterlist

you stood in front of the mirror doing last minute touches on your look. there was an edge of nerves running through your system knowing this was a big night for your relationship with jack. after agreeing to keep things private for the few months you two have been together, you decided you were ready to make things public. poor jack was more nervous than you were knowing how people online got.he worried the comments of other fans getting to you even though you told him countless times you could handle it. a few mean comments meant nothing to you knowing jack chose you. 

“i think i’m almost ready jacky,” you called to your boyfriend when you heard him shuffle into the room. his head poked into the connected bathroom, a smile gracing his lips when he saw your pretty baby blue dress. 

“jesus, you look incredible,” the brunette hummed, eyes racking across your body that the dress hugged in all the right places. you flushed at his comment, spinning to face him. 

“you think so?” 

he stepped further into the bathroom, hands snaking around your waist just low enough that his hands grazed the top of your ass. a lazy smiled painted his lips as he continued drinking in your appearance. 

“can’t wait to let everyone know you’re mine tonight,” the boy pressed a soft, yet passionate kiss to your lips. 

you smiled into the kiss, squeezing his chin between your fingers as his hands drifted lower. a giggle left your lips at his boyish behavior, pulling him off your lips which was instantly met with a pout that you pulled him off. 

“we better go, soon, yeah? don’t wanna be late,” you tapped your fingers against his cheek. 

“you’re 100% sure you’re ready? i don’t want it to be too much too soon. there’s probably gonna be cameras everywhere and people shouting questions,” jack knew events like these had reporters and journalists everywhere trying to catch glimpses of their lives. he didn’t want to bring you into all of it unless he knew you could take it. 

“i’m sure, baby. i’ve got thick skin,” you smiled. 

“i know you do, but sometimes those people can be real assholes,” jack’s worry was cute. you cupped his cheeks, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead. 

“at least i’ll have you with me then,” your confidence eased some of jack’s worries. he kissed you one last time before dragging the both of you out of the bedroom. 

“about time. thought i’d have to bang on the door or something,” luke snickered, jumping up from his place on the couch. 

“real funny, luke. let’s go or else we’re late,” jack grabbed everyone’s jackets, his antsy side coming out as he rushed his brother and girlfriend out of the apartment. 

the ride into downtown was uneventful. jack’s aux music helped ease some of your nerves as his car approached the venue which was indeed packed with people already at the front. you found yourself squeezing jack’s hand rested atop your knee a bit tighter seeing all those people feet away. jack quickly met your gaze. 

“feeling okay?” the boy wondered. 

“i’m fine. just nervous,” you said. 

“we can go in through the back if you don’t wanna do this. that’s perfectly fine with me,” jack gave you a quick ultimatum, but you shook your head. 

“it will be fine, jacky. promise,” he studied your expression a bit longer before deciding that you were gonna be okay. 

he pulled his car into the line, allowing the valet to take his keys as the three of you climbed out. jack met you on your side, holding his arm out for you to latch onto. your hands squeezed around his bicep as he took the lead, luke trailing behind you guys. the fans and reporters spotted the three of you immediately, quickly shouting to get your attention. 

“jack! is that your girlfriend?” 

“oh my god, he has a girlfriend??” 

“over here! let me get a picture!” 

the two of you posed for some pictures, jack’s hold tightening around your waist as the photographers snapped away, marking the public debut of your relationship. you weren’t sure how your boyfriend was feeling, but you felt in the clouds. so many people were reaching out for you or jack, wanting his signature or to just talk to him for a few seconds. sometimes you forgot this was his life—so flashy, so surreal—yet you loved it. 

he began pulling you down to carpet where security held the doors open for the guys. you waved to the fans one last time before disappearing inside the arena. jack glanced over at you, his expression a bit unreadable. 

“okay?” he wondered almost nervously. your large smile immediately eased his worries though as you latched back onto his arm. 

“god, you’re so cool. i knew you were popular, but i didn’t realize how popular,” your laugh brought a smile to the boy’s lips. 

“i’m glad you approve. it seems like everyone else does, too,” jack pecked your lips before dragging your further into the event to find his friends. 

the two of you quickly found nico and holtzy. both guys smiled widely when they saw their teammate and his girl on his arms. you smiled, watching jack greet them with friendly hugs. “didn’t know you were bringing your girl out,” nico hummed, giving you a gentle hug once jack finished. 

“thought it was time we go public,” jack pulled you back into his side, a proud smile on his lips that people finally knew about the girl he’s been loving for months. 

“wow, didn’t know hughes could become so lovey,” holtz teased, roughing up jack’s arm. your boyfriend brushed the comments off despite the small blush coating his cheeks. 

“whatever. you guys want some drinks? first round’s on me,” the brunette smiled. the guys cheered as they followed your boyfriend to the bar, ordering the entire team the first round of shots. 

you spent the rest of the night clinging to jack’s side, but neither of you minded. his arm was hooked around your waist no matter what, not letting you move too far away from him. you could tell he was enjoying himself knowing the big smile on his lips didn’t come out often unless he was around you or his teammates. jack adored all of them, even when they chirped on him, and he couldn’t be happier getting to spend the night with you too. 

even if you were just eye candy on jack’s arm, you didn’t care. getting to spend time with your boyfriend in his element was your favorite thing. 

as the night winded down, photos from earlier were released on social media. you peaked over jack’s shoulder as he scrolled through the pictures, smiling when he came across the ones of you two. there were a few of both of you smiling and one where jack’s eyes were on you when you weren’t looking. there was a lot of love in his eyes that made your heart just burst. 

“who knew we cleaned up so nice,” you teased. jack looked over at you, eyes bright. 

“so you think it went okay then?” 

“i think they liked me. do you think it went okay?” you wondered, brushing some of his hair away from his forehead. 

“i think it went amazing. i’m glad you came out tonight, it was a lot of fun,” jack leaned over, kissing your cheek. 

“thanks for bringing me, handsome. i hope i can come along again,” with that, the hockey player placed a more passionate kiss on your lips. your fingers tangled into his hair, twisting the locks around while his own hand cupped the side of your cheek. 

neither of you cared that you were in public. the booth you sat in tucked you guys away into a corner that almost created your own space away from everyone else. jack deepened the kiss even more as he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth, but the moment was short lived. 

“jesus, you guys are so gross. can we leave soon?” luke stood at the end of the table in disgust. 

he was such a little brother with his snarky comments. you giggled, but jack didn’t find his brother as amusing. 

“hold your horses. we’ve got all night,” jack said. 

the younger boy only rolled his eyes, shuffling away like a little kid. jack’s attention turned back to you, eyes still bright with love and lust. 

“now, where were we?” 

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #nj devils #new jeresey devils #luke hughes #jack hughes x you #hughes brothers #ice hockey #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #nhl x reader #jack hughes fluff #peachhcs 700 celly!

[kamaluhkhan]

COMPLICATED

LUST — part iv of we'll write sins like tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis! reader (afab) word count: 8.9k summary: the lives of demigods are never simple. why would your relationship with luke be any different? or: four moments of tension + one moment of release. featuring a trip to montauk with percy, grover, and annabeth warnings: a decent amount of reader backstory (mention of dad having cancer); multiple POVs (percy, grover, annabeth, luke, reader - obv nothing suggestive/smutty until luke and reader POV); luke + reader get into arguments and are v stressed so their relationship is a bit strained; reader has tattoos; reader is on birth control; rough smut (protected + unprotected p in v, oral f+m receiving, biting, scratching, slight choking, slight breeding kink, etc...); also slight dark + possessive luke! (18 + MDNI); major angst — we all know how this story ends ;( author's note: this was meant to be a blurb but...here we are! this is basically another chapter of my spill ur guts series lol. i've been gone for much longer than i planned to, but hope u enjoy possibly the angstiest, smuttiest thing i've written so far ♡

♪ "complicated" by avril lavigne

i. 

in the span of a few minutes, percy went from pure joy — being greeted with cheers from all the campers was great, sure, but truthfully the hug from annabeth alone sent him to elysium — to feeling like his heart dropped all the way to tartarus.

which is definitely not a place percy ever wants to visit again. he was happy to be back at camp with his friends, knowing that his quest was completed, his mom was safe in new york, and a war between the gods was prevented.

it should be over….but there’s something in the back of percy’s mind that’s telling him it isn’t. seeing a certain someone in the crowd earlier didn’t do anything to ease that feeling.

"can someone explain to me why clarisse is still here?" 

you raise an eyebrow at luke, and he shrugs in response.  it seems neither of you had decided who should break the news, and neither of you seem particularly excited to do so, even after dragging percy, along with annabeth and grover, into the empty hermes cabin for some privacy.

after another beat of silence, you take the lead.

“look, kid, i know you and clarisse got off to a rocky start —”

“she tried to drown me, and then basically kill me during capture the flag,” percy points out. he hears an ocean roaring at the memory, but that could have also been from his duel with clarisse’s dad, the god of war, more recently.

a duel that percy had won, for the record. luke trained him well.

“and i’m not defending that,” you clarify. “i’m just saying that we’ve known clarisse for much longer. she’s not perfect, maybe a bit aggressive sometimes — trust me, she and i have had some major disagreements, too — but i can’t see her doing something like this.”

“why would anyone at camp want to steal the bolt? to join kronos’ army against the gods?” annabeth wonders. to herself or to the group, percy isn’t sure, but he has a feeling that the wheels in her mind are turning.

“revenge, maybe?” grover suggests. 

almost instinctively, grover glances at you, and so does annabeth. percy wants to kick himself for doing the same. 

with you being the daughter of nemesis, he imagines that it's not the first time you’d been blamed for something just because of who you are. it’s a feeling percy knows all too well. and, for better or for worse, like percy, it seems like you’re not one to accept these things without a fight.

you straighten your shoulders, ready to snap back, but before you can, luke declares:

“it’s not her.”

he then knocks the toe of his shoe against your combat boot. you smile and return the gesture. the tension eases out of the room.

for a second, percy wonders if he’ll ever have someone like that: someone to defend like it’s second nature, to share that sort of secret language with, to smile at him like nothing else in the world matters. 

according to annabeth, the two of you weren’t technically dating — but percy is pretty sure that aphrodite is swooning over you. 

“see, grove? if camp half-blood’s golden boy can vouch for me, then i’m in the clear.” your tone is playful enough — no hard feelings — but the tips of grover’s ears still turn red. “i didn’t steal the bolt. sure, the gods and titans can tear each other apart for all i care — " 

annabeth stiffens at your bold statement, and grover starts to nervously chew on an empty diet coke can he had stashed in his pocket. luke watches you with the hint of a smile on his face, and percy —

well, percy can’t help but admire you even more. 

"— but it's everything else that i have an issue with.”

“everything else?”

you look at percy like the answer is obvious. 

“when have the gods ever fought their battles without us as collateral damage? doesn’t seem worth it to me, to betray my friends.” 

that itch in the back of percy’s brain gets harder to ignore.

“the oracle warned me, betrayed by a friend.” 

“prophecies don't always come true,” annabeth reminds him. “at least not in the way we expect them to.” 

“annie is right,” luke adds, nodding at his sister. “mine didn't. the oracle said i would die a hero.” 

you turn to luke then, your eyebrows furrowed. 

“what? you never told me that.” 

“it doesn’t matter,” luke insists. “my point is that i came back from my joke of a quest, alive and a definitely not a hero —”

“fuck what the oracle said.” you roll your eyes. “dead or alive, you are a hero, tiger.”

you move to place a hand on luke’s arm. to percy’s surprise, though, luke brushes you off.

“i’m not a hero. at least not the one my dad expects me to be.”

again, percy is taken aback by how luke snapped, at you of all people. you huff, and percy can tell that you’re a bit agitated now, too. 

“okay, but that doesn’t mean —”

“my point is.” luke turns to percy, effectively blocking your presence for the time being. “you completed your quest, fought a god, and stalled kronos’ plan. you’ve been through it — all three of you have — but now you’re back. let’s just enjoy the rest of our summer, yeah? whatever happened out there, whatever the oracle said, it’s in the past.”

percy wants to believe luke, he really does. one glance in your direction, and it seems like you do, too.

deep down, though, percy isn’t entirely convinced. there’s that dread in the pit of his stomach, that voice in the back of his head. something in him, warning that this isn’t quite over. the worst has yet to come.

he wonders if — or maybe just hopes — you feel the same.

—

ii.

if you of all people can’t get luke’s attention, grover is pretty sure that the world is ending.

“luke,” you try again, foregoing your usual nickname for him. your arms are crossed and you tap your foot against the floor. it makes grover slightly anxious, feeling your frustration threaten to boil over.

“i’m busy,” he grunts, and flips over another page, scribbling something on the other side. 

“grover wanted to talk to us about something.”

“i-it’s fine, we don’t have to —”

“no, it’s a good idea, grove,” you insist. you smile at grover then. he remembers that, despite the deadly glares you can deliver, like the one you were just giving luke, you have a gentle core. you just guard it behind sharp edges. 

“tell him that i’ll talk to him later.”

“or, you could tell him yourself,” you huff. grover waves awkwardly, even though luke doesn’t realize what’s happening. “he’s right next to me.”

luke looks up briefly, and then back down at the pages in front of him just as quick. he looks tired, exhausted even. 

“sorry, man. didn’t see you there. i gotta finish these reports.”

“no worries. i tend to be quiet on my hooves.”

in the moment of silence that follows, and with luke still not giving you the attention you’re asking for, you walk over to the desk where luke is working. what you see seems to make you even more annoyed than before.

“these reports are for september. why in the name of nemesis are you filling them out now?”

“i just want to be prepared.”

“prepared for what?”

luke hesitates. “just….the future.”

“oh!” you laugh, sharp and sarcastic. “i didn’t realize that the future required you to neglect your friends.”

“i’m trying to help my friends,” luke huffs. he taps his pen impatiently against the desk. “if you didn’t keep interrupting me —”

“oh my fucking gods — ”

grover watches the two of you argue. it had been easier to step in whenever something bubbled up between annabeth and percy, because they were just kids. but you and luke — you were adults. 

when grover met luke for the first time, he was already taking on way too much responsibility for a kid — keeping thalia and annabeth alive, protecting them from monsters, taking care of them. in a lot of ways, those responsibilities didn’t go away: as a senior counselor and resident older brother, a hero for the older campers to admire and the younger kids to aspire to be. camp half-blood’s golden boy, as you liked to call him. 

and, like you, luke is good at hiding. for him, its heavy burdens behind easy-going smiles. 

lately, though, those smiles seem to be strained, his shoulders slowly bending under the weight of it all. the other day, grover asked you if everything was okay with luke. you had looked back at him sadly, shrugged, and said you didn’t know.

that’s when grover decided that everyone just needs a break — an escape. he had been sensing that things weren’t quite right with the others, too. percy seems a little on edge, and so does annabeth.

then, of course, there was you and luke. finding out that the two of you had actually started dating was huge news for someone like grover who had painstakingly watched the two of you dance around your feelings for years. so, it was more than a little weird that you’d barely been speaking this past week. the rare occasion you did was tense at best, and explosive at worst. 

like now, when you pick up one of the reports luke was working on, and threaten to burn it. luke dares you to do so, even suggests, albeit sarcastically, that you use it as your next offering to the gods. 

“oh, a handwritten document from luke castellan himself? they would love that,” you snort. “admit it: you’re doing all of mr. d’s work just to suck up to some gods who don’t even give a shit about any of this. you’re practically olympus’ lapdog.”

luke, blushing a furious shade of red, gets up and yanks the paper from your hand.

“at least my parent is important enough to actually have a seat on olympus and an actual cabin for his kids to stay in.”

you look like you could just about throw luke into a fire, and vice versa. grover had never seen the two of you like this, but it made sense: each of you knowing just where, and how, to hurt the other.

and, he thinks it’s about time to step in before the damage is irreversible. so, grover starts slowly clapping. the clapping gets faster, and he manages to get through the first few lines of the consensus song before you stop him.

“alright, alright,” you sigh. you push past luke, steal his chair, and put your feet up on the desk. luke scowls at you, but you put your hands up in surrender and jut your chin out towards grover. “just listen to what grover has to say and then we’ll let you get back to your precious reports.”

grover tells luke his idea. luke actually agrees, and grover can’t help but feel a little bit of a victory. 

he’s a protector, after all. it’s his job to make sure you’re all alive and happy and thriving. and not burnt to a crisp over some petty argument.

—

iii. 

annabeth had missed home when she was away on their quest, but being back and seeing everyone being taught to worship the gods without question, to believe that the only things that matter are power and glory….well, after everything that happened, after percy, annabeth can’t just go back to doing the same. at least not entirely. 

all this to say, she was totally on board with grover’s idea: the five of you, renting a cabin in montauk to get away from camp for a bit.

unfortunately, the trip starts off less than ideally. you and luke bicker the entire way here — and not the playful jabs you usually throw at each other. 

annabeth remembers the first time she saw you together. it was during breakfast, their first morning at camp half-blood. annabeth had spent the night trying not to cry over thalia, and already missing luke even though he was only a few cabins away. she was still a kid, surrounded by strangers, told that she was safe now, but didn’t quite believe it yet. one look to luke at the hermes table, and annabeth could tell he felt the same way, too — not quite settled in this new place that was supposed to be home, and with these people who were supposed to be family.

she watched as the hermes table went to burn offerings to the gods. when they sat down again, luke looked even more unsettled than before.

but then, you leaned in and whispered something in luke’s ear, and he actually laughed, just a bit, which was a nice change of pace. luke was always the one making annabeth and thalia laugh when they were running from monsters, always the one trying to keep everything together with a smile or a joke.

as she devoured her breakfast, annabeth couldn’t help but keep glancing at the two of you. she heard warnings from her half-siblings, about your mother being the goddess of revenge, and you living up to that name. 

luke either didn't know, or didn't care about whatever reputation you had. sitting there, next to you, annabeth didn’t think she’d ever seen luke so, genuinely happy, so at ease.

all these years later, neither you nor luke seemed particularly happy. you’re obviously avoiding each other, and annabeth doesn’t understand why.

you and luke are a new puzzle that she can’t wait to solve. 

annabeth had finished constructing the most elaborate sandcastle in history, just for percy to accidentally splash it when he was trying to surf a wave; so she decides that playtime is over. it’s time to figure out what exactly is going on between you and luke.

luke is in the cabin doing gods know what. you're on the deck painting your nails, so annabeth decides to start gathering information from you, first. 

“hey." you finish painting your pinky a dark purple, and set the bottle down next to you. "having fun?”

annabeth nods once and sits next to you. she asks if you could paint her nails, and you pull out a bottle of silver polish you said you thought she might like. 

as you work, careful with each stroke of polish, annabeth surveys the tattoos on your skin. you’re wearing a bikini top, so there are some that she’s seeing for the first time. there's one of a knife on your sternum, and annabeth distinctly remembers seeing a similar one peeking from underneath the collar of luke’s shirt. she wonders when you got it, if you had to travel to a tattoo parlour in the city, how many other adventures you'd gone on without having to consult the oracle beforehand. 

maybe that’s a good place to start. 

“have you ever thought about leaving camp? like, long term?" 

"sometimes," you admit. "it would be nice to have some normal early-twenties experiences."

"would you go to school?"

you smile as you keep painting annabeth’s nails. “maybe. i might have seen legally blonde too many times, but i think about law school sometimes.” 

“what about luke?”

your smile fades at the question. “i...i don’t know." your once precise nail-painting falters, and you mumble a curse when a drop of silver lands on annabeth's skin. you swipe it away before continuing. "luke's one of those people i can't really see away from camp half-blood for too long; pretty sure it would burn down without him. there's a reason he feels responsible for everyone there...in a way i respect, obviously, but, it's not the same for me. nobody needs me."

"luke needs you."

you sigh, and annabeth wonders if you even realize how you shake your head slightly. she thinks you're about to disagree with her, but instead you ask: 

“what's this about, annie? are you thinking about your dad’s offer?”

and annabeth’s completely thrown off her line of inquiry. 

“how did you —”

“perce told me that you’ve been talking about staying with him for the year,” you explain. you gesture at annabeth to give you her other hand, and she complies. the silver polish on the hand you just finished glitters in the sun. 

“well, nothing’s confirmed.”

you look up at annabeth, one eyebrow raised. “it's okay, you know — if you just wanna….be a kid for a bit.”

annabeth is silent, prompting you to ask another question.

"what's holding you back?"

“well….at first, i thought it would be a definite no,” annabeth admits. “obviously, it didn’t work out last time. i don’t know if i want to risk it again — if i can trust him, you know? how do i know he actually cares —  that he’ll be there for me when i need him?”

“you don’t.” you pause for a second. “but i’m gonna tell you a story that i think might help.”

you're done painting her nails, so you put everything away. you sit cross-legged next to annabeth, looking out at the ocean.

“my dad never wanted me to go to camp. he wanted to raise me in the city, just like he’d grown up. he’d take me to rock concerts all the time. i was so young, he’d make me wear earmuffs and carry me on his shoulders so that i could still see the band.” you smile softly at the memory. “and then….my dad got sick, he couldn’t take care of me, and monsters started to show up, so he brought me to camp for safe keeping." 

"you've told me all this," annabeth remarks. 

you start fiddling with your camp necklace. annabeth isn't used to seeing you so unsure, so nervous; it throws her off even more. 

"what i haven't told you is that even when my dad got better, he….he didn’t give me a choice of where to stay.”

"oh," is all annabeth can say. 

“yeah, oh," you scoff, but there’s not really any malice behind it. you seem…sad. defeated, almost. your fingers move to play with the hem of your shorts, which causes the fresh nail polish to smudge. you don’t seem too concerned about that at the moment, though. "i told everyone that i chose to stay. the truth is that i stayed because my dad didn't want me anymore. he said that the universe gave him a second chance, so he wanted to live his life without having to worry about monster attacks or taking care of his teenage daughter."

annabeth wonders if luke knows the truth about this; though, considering how difficult it seems for you to admit, she doubts it. 

before, annabeth had a theory that you decided to stay at camp because of luke.

luke was away when you got the news that your dad was in remission. annabeth remembers how happy you were, how excited you were to be back in the city and living with your dad again. you started packing right away.

when luke came back from his failed quest, you had just gone into the city the day before, having promised to visit in the summer and stay in touch. someone – chris maybe, or beckendorf — must have called you, told you what happened, because you came back to camp right away, your bag still fully packed. you never left again. 

"that sucks."

“yeah.” you let out a hollow, breathy laugh. “and, i was angry at first. of course i was. but now, i don’t know. i think that maybe my dad does care about me. like, he still sends me mixtapes with old punk rock songs he thinks i’d like. he actually calls me on my birthday, and we have a 3 minute conversation about nothing important." 

"right…" annabeth furrows her brows. this conversation had definitely not gone as planned. "no offense, but what's —"

"i'm getting to the point," you tell her, bumping your shoulder against hers.  "i realized that sometimes people can only love us in a way that works for them — and it sucks. it really, really sucks. but then sometimes…. sometimes people do actually try. and, i don’t know, it seems like maybe your dad is willing to try.”

“so you think i should take him up on his offer.”

the sun starts to set. you get up, brush sand off your legs. 

“i think it's time for a swim. i also think that you’re smart enough to know what’s best for you, and who deserves a second chance. just know that whatever you decide — we’ll be there for you.”

you leave without another word, but with the return of your usual confident smile, off to the shore to take advantage of the last bits of daylight. 

"she's right, annabeth." luke appears a few seconds later, takes the spot next to annabeth you had just occupied.

annabeth hums.

"how much of that did you hear?" 

luke doesn't answer. he just stares at your form, disappearing in the distance and diving under the waves.

—

iv.

you clear your throat and luke turns around to see you freshly showered. you’re wearing a pair of shorts and one of the oversized band tees the two of you constantly exchange. you've lost track of whose is whose at this point.

luke resists the urge to shamelessly check out your legs, and turns his back towards you once again. that bikini top you were wearing earlier was bad enough. thankfully, the heat from the stove was enough to cover up his blushing cheeks at the sight of your exposed skin. 

“i thought we were ordering pizza,” you say, moving to peer over his shoulder, chin hovering just above. luke had the sense that you were avoiding physical contact, and as much as it drives him crazy, he knows that he’s the one who’d dug his own grave. pushing you away and whatnot. 

“didn’t know that you knew how to cook.”

“not much,” luke shrugs. he keeps stirring the vegetables — broccoli and carrots and baby corn. he’ll add the red peppers once the broccoli turns green so that they don’t become too soft. he’s pretty sure that’s how he remembers it going.

“i could have helped you.” you reach over and hand him the peppers right on time. you shift to lean your back against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed over your chest and eyes following luke. 

luke throws in the chicken he cooked earlier, and then the sauce he had also mixed. he waits a few seconds, lets the sound of everything sizzling fill the space between you. 

“it’s an easy recipe.” luke turns off the stove to punctuate his point. 

and it had to be. something quick he’d make with his mom after she had one of her episodes, before waking up and realizing that she had a son to feed. the sounds, the colors, the smells — it all, overwhelmingly, reminds him of a childhood he once had. one that was never as simple as the food he just made.

none of the bitterness in his throat is caused by his mom, of course. just his father who calls himself a god, and left them both alone to fend for themselves. 

you start getting out plates from the cupboards as you ask: “where are the kids?”

luke checks the pot on the stove to see if the rice is cooked. “told them to go rent something from the video store.” 

“they went alone?”

“they’ve literally been to hell and back,” he replies and sits down at the table. “i think they can handle a blockbuster.”

“i don’t care if they get attacked by monsters,” you state, setting down the last plate in front of him. “i know they can handle themselves. they just better choose a good movie.” 

luke doesn’t mean to snort, but he can’t help but remember all the arguments you’d gotten in with chris over your tastes in movies. 

 “don’t laugh, castellan. i’ve saved movie night on more than one occasion and i’ve never gotten so much as a thank you.” you roll your eyes, but luke notices the ghost of a smile.

it fades just as quickly as it appeared, and luke already misses the small moment of levity that’s passed. 

“what’s been going on with you, tiger?”

you hold his gaze, and luke knows that you’re hoping for a real answer, for the truth he can’t give you. 

“nothing,” he answers instinctively. 

“don’t give me that,” you sigh and turn away from him, returning to your position against the counter. 

“i said it’s nothing,” luke insists, a bit more assertively. “why can’t you just believe me?”

“because you’ve been distant, moody.” your tone is sharper now, too. “you’ve been avoiding me. you’ve barely been eating. the side of your bunk has been empty, which means you haven’t been sleeping, either. gods, i can’t even remember the last time you kissed me —”

“you’re really mad at me because we haven’t fucked?” 

it’s a low blow, and he delivers it as if he hadn’t missed seeing you underneath him. or on top, or beside. luke isn’t picky. 

“you’re impossible!” you groan, and cover your face with your hands. you take a deep breath  before returning to glare at luke. “do….do you not want to be together, anymore? because if that’s what’s happening, i’ll survive. we can go back to being friends.” you clench your jaw to make up for the tremble behind your question. always a tough face, even in the face of potential heartbreak.

of course, luke knows you’ll be fine without him. he’s the one who might have difficulty surviving when you part ways.

“that’s not —” luke sighs and runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “that’s not it.”

“then what is it?”

“noth—”

“i will send you to elysium if you tell me it’s nothing one more time, because i know it’s not!” you’re shouting now. “i might not know what it is, but i know you well enough to tell that something is bothering you. so i’m asking you, one more time, what is going on?”

the thing is, luke can’t tell you — about what he’s done, about who he’s aligned himself with. he can’t lie to you, either, at least not to save his life.

so, he’s basically stuck in whatever the greek mythology version of limbo is. 

for now, he’s saved by percy, annabeth, and grover, who walk in with a stack of DVDs and armfuls of movie snacks. 

dinner is fine, especially with the kids providing a good enough buffer. luke even catches you smiling and laughing along with them a few times. you approve of their choice in movies, starting with mulan. it’s one of luke’s favorites, too, but he can’t help but let his attention wander. 

the two of you have known each other for a long time. luke has felt your anger. he’s felt your frustration. you’ve been on opposing sides of explosive arguments, of brutal sparring matches. 

but, despite everything, luke’s never been hated by you. it’s unavoidable, given what he’s done and the path he’s on; it's just not something he's particularly eager to feel.

working for kronos….luke won't pretend he regrets it. something had to be done, to take back the poisonous world the gods created. 

he did it for you, even if you won't understand.

he'd do anything for you.

so, for now, he’s willing to endure the daggers you stare at him from the other side of the couch. 

—

v. 

in another life, you might have taken advantage of the queen bed and private room. both hard to come by at camp half-blood, if you’re not willing to risk zeus’ wrath for the latter.

gods, it feels like forever since you and luke snuck into cabin one because couldn’t keep your hands off each other, curses and lighting strikes be damned. 

you almost wish lightning would strike — at least then the bed would be warm. 

“i can feel you being mad at me,” luke whispers. 

“sorry, thought you’d already be gone by now,” you respond, sarcasm dripping through your words. “off to see whoever else you’d rather sleep with.”

“so, you are mad because we haven’t fucked in a while.”

a stupid slip of the tongue. you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and your entire body feels on fire for giving him any leverage on you. that was definitely not the warmth you were hoping for. 

“whatever,” you mumble, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, your back still towards luke. 

for the record, you’re mad because of whatever distance luke was forcing between you, or whatever wall he was putting up, for a reason you don’t understand. you’d always known luke well, but lately you haven’t been able to read him. 

and, sure. maybe you are…. frustrated. the two of you hadn’t been intimate in a while, yes, and your fingers are nothing compared to luke’s, but more than that: you just miss actually feeling him close to you. in any sense. 

you’re not sure how much time passes, and there’s nothing but silence. then, you hear his voice again, gentler than before, no cocky attitude laced through. 

“you never told me about your dad.”

ugh. of course, luke had overheard your conversation with annabeth earlier. damn those sly hermes’ genes.

you stay silent to give off the illusion that you’d fallen asleep, but luke doesn't fall for it. 

“we’ve shared a bunk for years, karma. i can tell when you’re not sleeping.” 

you pause for a few more seconds, but you know that luke is persistent.

“it didn’t matter,” is all you offer before he asks again.

“it did,” luke insists. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s not like we tell each other everything,” you scoff. “like, why didn’t you tell me about that prophecy? and why won’t you tell me whatever’s going on with you now?”

“that’s….that’s different.” 

“not really. i bet that it’s all for the same reason.”

“which is?”

 you debate telling luke the truth. 

it was no surprise that you had a certain reputation around camp: cunning, hot-tempered, brash. you were fine being the angry girl whose mother wasn’t enough of a god to warrant a cabin, but enough of a threat to be wary of. you didn’t want to be the one who was also dropped by her father, unwanted and too much of a burden. so, you swallowed the reality of the situation; pretended that nothing broke your heart, and that nothing ever would.

“i didn’t want you to look at me differently,” you admit. 

another pause, this time from the other side of the bed. 

“if it makes you feel better, i was glad that you stayed.”

you can’t help it; you let out a sardonic laugh.

“that’s not much of a comfort, since you haven’t seemed very thrilled with me lately.”

“that’s not….” luke falters. “i just mean that i don't know who i’d be if you left.”

in spite of the situation, the ongoing tension between you, you find yourself smiling. 

“always so dramatic,” you tease.

deep down, you know you’re not much better.

luke was part of the reason you might have stayed at camp, anyways. he was the reason why you didn’t fight harder to get back to your old life, and you always did like a good fight.

it was scary though, that one person had so much power over you and didn’t even know it. you tried to convince yourself that you stayed because luke had needed you, after his quest and everything. but, once you’d known how it felt to have luke in your life, you didn’t want to go back to a time you didn’t. 

truthfully, it still scares you.

“i don’t like fighting with you,” you admit softly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “especially when i don’t even know why we’re fighting in the first place.”

you wonder if you’d just thought that instead of saying it out loud because luke doesn’t respond, until you hear the sheets behind you shuffle, and feel luke position himself behind you.

"i'm sorry that we're fighting. it's my fault."

he settles a tentative hand on your exposed hip, where your shirt had ridden up. luke starts to trace circles onto your skin with his thumb, the way he sometimes does when he's nervous or having a bad dream.

"i’ve just been so….in my head. i don't want you to worry about what's going on with me, okay?

"luke —"

"i have to sort it out on my own.”

"you don’t, though,” you insist. “if you just tell me what’s going on, instead of pushing me away.”

another pause. you can feel him breathing down your neck, and in turn you inhale the spicy citrus of his body wash. it’s all so excruciatingly familiar as you wait for him to say something, anything. 

eventually, luke sighs, deeply, and confesses:

"it's just….we've known each other for so long, but this — us? so much of it is new. i don't want to fuck it up." 

"well, congratulations," you quip. "you're one step closer to getting there."

you meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood, but you feel luke stiffen at your words, his grip on your hip becoming almost painfully tight as if he's worried you'll slip away.

"i'm kidding, tiger." you weave your fingers through his to loosen his hold on you, and reassure him even more that you're not going anywhere, any time soon. "for better or for worse: you’re mine, and i'm yours. no matter how much either of us might fuck it up."

luke shuffles closer, and you melt into him even more. 

"do you really mean that?"

his voice is soft, surprisingly timid. you crane your neck back to look at him; luke stares at you, his gaze heavy enough to take your breath away. 

“of course.” 

you're so close, and you hadn't been in so long. luke's leg is somehow lodged in between your thighs, and you bite back a whimper as he brushes against you. you feel him behind you, already half-hard, and you rub your ass against him slightly, causing a groan to vibrate through his body. 

neither of you have to do much to crash your lips together.

you can sense how luke’s been unraveling, from the kiss alone. his lips are chapped, rough against yours and already bleeding from the pressure; his stubble scrapes against your cheek, and you’re dizzy with anticipation, imagining how it will leave a stinging sensation on other areas of your skin when luke has his way with you later. 

for now, you focus on your mouth on his: teeth clacking together, your tongue laving over the cut on luke’s bottom lip and tasting copper. luke brings a hand up to your jaw, pushing you into his mouth even more. 

it’s like the first time you kissed. all consuming. messy. urgent — like you've already run out of time. 

eventually, you have to pull yourself away from his grasp, your neck straining at the uncomfortable angle. luke takes the opportunity to suck bruises onto your neck while he presses his thigh harder against your cunt. he slips his other hand further underneath your shirt, cupping your breast and pinching your nipple between his fingers.  instinctively, you start rutting against him. 

“f-fuck,” you groan, relishing in the muscles of his naked thigh underneath you, defined and strong. 

luke chuckles, and you feel his breath warm against your skin. 

“you missed me that much, hm?” he taunts, encouraging you to go faster, harder. “you’re gonna cum before i even have a chance to undress you. doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“who —” your breath catches when luke’s hand settles around your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. you feel the outline of his abs against your lower back, and his length, hard and waiting. it’s difficult to finish your thought, but you try your best. “who says i only have to cum once?”

“that sounds like a challenge,” luke decides. “what’s our record — three? think we can beat that tonight?”

you laugh, already out of breath. “i think we can do it.”

“good girl.”

your thighs clench at the nickname, and it's one down, a few more to go. 

you maneuver luke so that he lays flat on the bed, your legs on either side of his hips. your hands fumble with the edge of his shirt, and he lets you remove it without any more hassle.

it's a little ironic, really, how much you and luke hate the gods — because looking at him underneath you, you're sure that something divine must have created him, and you have to thank them for it. sharp jaw, deep scar, flushed cheeks; curls slightly askew, and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat; that cocky smile — you'd worship luke castellan over any of the olympians. 

secretly, of course, you pretty much already do.

"like what you see?" luke smirks up at you, hands firmly on your ass.

you roll your eyes to save face. "come on, tiger, like you're not seconds away from tearing through your boxers." 

luke clicks his tongue, locks his calf around yours to switch your positions. you grunt as your back hits the mattress, but you very much appreciate the force and weight of luke above you. he practically rips off your shirt, then starts to nip and suck down your body. he kisses the fabric still covering your cunt, and you can feel his chuckle vibrate through your body when he encounters the wetness there. 

"i'm not the one who already ruined their underwear," luke teases as he finishes undressing you. he pauses at the sight of you, bottom half completely exposed. you're about to tell him to hurry the fuck up, but then luke spits onto your already soaked cunt and says: 

“i need to clean you up, baby.” he gives you another cheeky grin, teeth glowing like the cheshire cat, before diving in.

luke is skilled at everything he does, so of course he's quick to unravel you once more, this time with a persistent combination of tongue and teeth, lapping at your cunt like it's his last meal. 

as soon as you're done riding out your high, you yank luke by the leather cord around his neck to collide your lips with his again. 

you reach down to return the favor, snake your hand underneath the fabric of his underwear, and you're deeply satisfied to find him already sticky with his release.

“you already finished,” you tease, stroking his v-line. "and ruined your underwear without me even touching you." 

in the dim light of the moon, you can barely make out luke blushing. he hides his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. 

“guess we’re both desperate, huh.” luke’s teeth graze your skin, his curls tickling your neck. “i need to be inside you, now, so how about you get on your hands and knees for me? i’ll get the condom.”

sometimes, luke tries to be gentle — but not this time. 

this time, he fucks you, hard and fast and deep. 

you love it, even if you might not be able to walk properly tomorrow.

with so much power behind each thrust, and the overwhelming pleasure, your arms threaten to give out, but luke catches you before you fall. he wraps a hand around your neck, bringing you flush against his chest as he continues to plunge his length into you. 

"listen to me," luke growls. he snakes a hand down to rub harsh circles on your clit. "the one thing the gods did right is make this perfect, tight little pussy of yours. you were fucking made for me, weren't you?" 

all you can do is whimper, closing your eyes at his filthy, sinful words. 

you aren't used to luke being so possessive, and certainly not in these past few weeks. it's making your head spin in the best way. you can feel your orgasm build in the pit of your abdomen.

"were you made for me?" luke asks again. he squeezes your neck slightly, and you gasp at the pressure. "answer me, or i'll stop." 

you don’t think it’s likely he’ll stop; you’re sure he’s just as lost in the sound of your cunt squelching and the feeling of you sucking him in. but, he does slow down, only a little bit, and it's enough for you to start whining.

"y-yes, luke."

"are you mine?"

you don't answer fast enough. luke stills his hips completely and you almost burst into tears.

you moan, trying to move against him in vain. luke keeps a firm grip on you, making it hard to cause any sort of friction between your bodies.

"i'm yours," you promise.

luke plants a firm kiss behind your ear. “that’s my girl,” he whispers darkly.

satisfied, luke resumes his pace. he moves the hand around your neck to your chin, angling you accordingly so he can crash his lips onto yours. 

it doesn't take long to feel the tension in your abdomen snap, wetness gushing out of you. exhausted, you collapse onto the mattress. luke slips out of you.

the next few seconds consist of you trying to bring yourself back down to reality after such a high. 

luke turns you around just to face him as he hovers over you. he lodges his hand behind your ear and taps your cheek to get your attention. your eyes flutter open.

“did you just —” 

the dampness between your legs, and on the sheets underneath you, is enough evidence: you just squirted.

"i….” you gulp, feeling yourself flush. “i’ve never done that before."

luke stares at your glistening cunt. you wonder if you should be embarrassed, but then he locks eyes with you. you've never seen them so dark, pupils almost fully blown, just a sliver of brown showing through.

"you’re so fucking hot."

your heart flutters. 

“you’re not too bad yourself, tiger, or i wouldn’t be in this mess.” you wink at him, still trying to catch your breath. your eyes wander lower. you note luke in the current state he’s in; you realize that the scales are nowhere near balanced. “that’s three for me, and only one for you. let me taste you.” 

he doesn't need to be told twice. you get on your knees once more, this time facing him as he kneels in front of you. luke rips off the condom, something to deal with later, and you take him in your mouth, cheeks hollowed and tears brimming your eyes feeling him fuck your throat. when he finishes, you swallow him whole, savoring every drop. he pulls you up for a kiss; you can still taste yourself on him, and it mixes with his new release, a combination that is more than a little intoxicating. 

“fuck,” luke mumbles as he pulls away. he swipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth where some of his cum dribbled out. “i know that was intense, but would you be up for another round? "

"yeah," you reply without a second thought, reaching up to thread your fingers through his curls to ground yourself. 

maybe you should thank artemis for the full moon tonight, giving you just the right amount of silver light to illuminate the sculpted curves and edges of luke's body. his skin is also littered with bruises and bites of your design, chaotic and beautiful. luke looks like a mess, just as you're sure you do. 

you want more. you need more.

"we gotta go for four, remember? but...maybe we, uh…"

"....slow it down this time?" luke finishes your thought. 

you nod, grateful that you and luke are on the same page. he scrambles off the bed to get another condom.

"shit. i don't have another one.”

"check my bag, too," you tell him. luke complies, but comes up short once more.  

you’re sitting up against the headboard now, and luke returns to kneel in front of you. 

"i can use my fingers,” luke offers. “or eat you out again —"

“or we could just do without a condom this time?” you suggest. luke raises an eyebrow at you, so you think through the possibilities out loud. "we both got tested before our first time together and haven’t been with anyone since.” you find yourself pausing for confirmation on that, and luke nods once. “i’m on birth control. obviously there’s still a risk that something happens, but maybe just this one time? you can just pull out whenever you’re ready….if you're okay with that."

luke waits, almost like he thinks you might change your mind, before finally answering:

“yeah, i’m okay with it if you are. i’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. i just didn’t think you’d be into it — and didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

you have to kiss him then. because how is it that the boy who just gave you three jaw clenching, toe curling, heart pounding orgasms be so sweet and considerate?

before you know it, you’re flat on your back, sheets slightly scratchy with stray sand. you don't care much because luke hovers above you; he presses his forehead to yours, curls falling in front of his face. 

"just so you know," luke starts, just as you feel him enter you once more. "i must have been made for you, too. i'm just as much yours as you are mine."

you smirk, bite your lip to keep from moaning so that you can keep up the arrogance, just a bit longer. 

"always so dramatic," you mock, as if your cunt isn’t squeezing around him at his sweet nothings. 

luke grins at you sheepishly, his cheeks flushed. 

"guess that means the gods did two things right," you joke, exhaling when you feel luke brush against that gummy spot deep within you. "maybe we've taken them for granted. maybe we should - " he hits that spot again, and your breath hitches. you dig your nails into his shoulders as he rocks back and forth. “maybe we should thank them.”

luke clicks his tongue, grips your hip firmly. "not a chance, sweetheart. the gods’ll get what they deserve."

you don’t care enough to ask luke what he means. you care more about him going faster. you’re about to tell him to do so, and to throw your legs over his shoulders, but he does it himself before you get the chance. you feel him slipping deeper within you, the force and passion behind each movement, his body molding to every curve and crevice of yours. 

made for each other.

you’re so sensitive that your orgasm approaches quickly. as he helps you ride it out, his thrusts get sloppier, and you know he’s almost reached his peak, too. 

“fuck,” he grunts. “i’m close.” luke starts to pull out, but then you lock your ankles behind his neck. 

“don’t,” you command. 

“a-are you sure?” he looks at you, wide-eyed.

“i just want to feel you this once.”

he nods and brings you in for one more bruising kiss. he finishes inside you, warm and wet. 

luke leaves once he catches his breath, and comes back with a damp towel to clean you up. he knows your body, recognizes how sensitive you are, and presses kisses on the inside of your thighs, where the same lips had made bruises before. 

even completely fucked out, your mind starts to unpack everything that’s wrong in your life. like how luke has always been a little too good at pretending, with everyone else at least, and something serious must be going on if he's trying to fool you, too.  

this luke with you now, the one who gently wipes his cum from between your legs after fucking you so relentlessly, is your luke. it feels like your luke is slipping right through your fingers, and you’re wracking your brain trying to figure out how this can stop before losing him completely.

wait….did luke say something about getting revenge on the gods? your mind is still a bit cloudy, but you could’ve sworn —

 “are you okay?” 

his question puts pause on your spiraling. he’s done cleaning you up, throws the towel on the floor and settles back on the bed, next to you. you’re close enough for the softest whisper, your limbs intertwined beneath tangled sheets.

you watch luke carefully as he waits for an answer and surveys your body, tracing his fingers over the marks he'd left underneath your jaw, across your shoulders, over your collarbones and down your stomach. 

"i didn't hurt you, did i?"

“i’m okay,” you assure him. luke’s hand stops to gently rest on your cheek. your other worries are pushed to the side for the time being: for now, it's just you and luke. “do you think we could pick up a plan b pill tomorrow though, just in case? i love you, but i’m not ready to have your babies.”

luke widens his eyes like a minotaur in headlights. he drops his hand.

 “you’ve never said that before.”

“that i want to have your babies?” you jest, slightly amused at how panicked luke seems.

luke blushes and clears his throat. “well, that too. i meant the whole ‘i love you’ thing, though.” 

your amusement evaporates. you swear your heart stops beating momentarily.

“oh, shit.…” 

you’re not quite sure what to say; you’ve felt this way for a while, truthfully. 

of course you love luke. you can't remember exactly when you realized it, but you just….know.

because if what you felt for luke wasn’t love, then you were foolish to have secretly bought into what silena beauregard had been on about for years, and aphrodite herself might just be out of a job. 

“i know we’re kind of in a weird place, but, yeah, i mean it. you don’t have to say it back —”

luke leans forward to kiss you. gentler this time, but just as firm. “i love you."

"you do?" your heart resumes its beating. 

"of course i do. i have ever since my first morning at camp.”

“yeah right,” you chuckle in disbelief, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it’s not a competition, you know, over who loved who first.”

“karma, i’m serious,” he insists. “someone taught me to burn offerings, and with everything that happened with thalia, i obviously wasn't in the worshiping mood, but then you leaned over and whispered —"

"they like the smell of begging." 

luke grins at you, and you reach up to brush your thumb against the dimple in his cheek. 

"exactly. somehow, that was what i needed to hear. it was nice to know that i wasn't the only one who didn’t want to just accept things the way they were….” he loses his train of thought. luke grabs your hand in his. “i wish i had told you earlier. after all this, i don’t want to lose you.”

“you won’t —”

“whatever happens,” luke continues, somewhat ominously. “i love you, y/n.”

you hadn't heard luke use your real name in a while. you fall asleep, heart full with the memory of him weaving it together with those three magic words. 

the next morning, you wake up — you actually sleep in, for the first time in years — and decide that if you could stay here forever, you would. 

the morning sun stings your eyes through the sheer curtains. the sticky heat of summer sits heavy in the room, and stray grains of sand tickle your skin underneath the sheets. waves wash gently on the shore outside, and an ocean breeze mixes with the smell of burnt cinnamon. you can hear annabeth, grover, and percy crashing dishes and bickering and causing chaos in the kitchen as, you imagine, they scramble to surprise you with breakfast. 

luke is next to you, on his stomach. his curls are a mess, covering most of his face. 

evidence from last night: scratches from your nails prominent on his back, his neck decorated with purple bruises in the shape of your lips. you shift slightly and feel a dull ache between your legs, so you'd call it even.

outside, something clatters on the floor, and you hear percy swear.

luke's eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, and he starts to move. "we should get up before they burn down the place." 

you press your hand to luke's shoulder blade, barely, but in his half-asleep state, it's enough to keep him in bed. luke moves to his side, facing you. you bring your hand up to brush curls away from luke's eyes, even if they're still closed.

"they've literally been to hell and back," you recall his sarcastic words from last night. "i think they can handle pancakes." 

the corners of luke's mouth curl upwards. 

"you're such a smart ass," he mumbles.

you lean forward, plant a kiss underneath luke's chin. his stubble scratches against your lips. 

"don't pretend you don't love it, tiger."

luke breathes steadily. you think he might've fallen asleep once more until he presses his lips to your forehead, pulls you towards him, and quips:

"i love you."

your heart quickens as you echo his words. something churns in your stomach, too.

because this peace isn't something that feels permanent.

you're the children of gods, and there's always a catch. some inevitable plot twist where lovers end up separated, where heroes end up dead or cursed. 

it's nauseating — dangerous, even — that you want a happy ending, a desire buried in you deeply like a knife to the gut. it's cruel that the fates keep twisting, taunting you with what can never be.

no monsters; no gods or titans; no prophecies.

just this.

#the way this became a whole chapter....i've got wayyy too much to say i guess #i really wanted to incorporate the trio into this series a bit more and how others see luke + karma's relationship #also i forget who said it but smut as a character study....yeah <3 #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x nemesis!reader #luke castellan x you #pjo fanfic #pjo #luke castellan fanfic #saf writes

[wholoveseggs]

girrrllll, i got another idea! how about Elijah proposing to a reader? it could be angsty in the beginning, maybe they got into a fight because she feels like he always puts his family before her, so he proposes to her to show her she is his family too (and cause he was planning on doing that for a while anyway). and it’s all emotional, she’s not believing what’s happening and she’s thinking he doesn’t really mean it. meanwhile he’s almost desperate to show her how much she means to him. Smut cannot be absent of course. thank youuuu🫶🏻🫶🏻

Forever

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah loves you with all his heart, but his commitment to his family and his loyalty to Klaus keeps him from acting on his feelings. But when he almost loses you, he is determined to prove that you are the only woman he has ever truly loved, and wants to make you his, forever.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag! Who doesn't want to be Elijah's wife? ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, slight violence (a classic Elijah & Klaus brawl), shower sex, rimjob {f!receiving}, oral sex & the Italian coast ♡

Everyone says that Elijah Mikaelson is the best of his family. A loyal, charming, considerate man that holds himself to a standard not many can accomplish. In essence, perfect. He loves his family deeply, despite their constant misgivings and betrayals. Nothing would get in his way, if it meant he could protect the ones he loves.

Well, that's what you wanted to believe.

There was a reason Elijah held such devotion to his family. He was one of them, and no better than the worst of them, having sinned over and over to the point where atonement was simply not a viable option.

He didn't want you to see him that way, the dark side of his polished exterior. He wanted to shed his past and become a new man with you by his side.

You were unlike anyone he's ever known or had a passing connection to. Your empathy and kindness was beyond measure, it had captivated him the very moment that your eyes met.

He always wanted to be married, there were even a few times he almost found someone to spend eternity with. Something always stood between that moment and himself, usually in the shape of some great threat. But things had now settled in his life, he had a niece and a proper place to call home. He was no longer on the run from one demon or another.

He wanted this. To settle down with the woman of his dreams, build a life together, and maybe even add to it.

Perfect. Simple. Domestic bliss.

You had come for a small party celebrating Hope's third birthday. Or, as far as you were concerned, a get together amongst those you considered family.

Although, sometimes you worried they didn't see you as family in turn. Deep entrenched history often kept you away from the inner workings of their family life. You understood that you had to earn your place in their lives, and you had done so time and time again. But they never seemed to truly accept you as one of their own.

You got along with nearly all of them except Klaus, who saw you as just a passing phase Elijah was going through. A dalliance, nothing more.

He certainly knew how to poke at your insecurities about your relationship.

"So, tell me," he asked as the two of you waited in the kitchen. "When will this little thing with you and my brother end?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

"Don't take it personally, sweetheart. You're not the first pretty face he's lost himself in," Klaus explained with a shrug.

"You don't think he's serious about me?" you questioned, trying not to feel hurt.

Klaus just shrugged and gave you a wicked grin. "Why would he be?"

"Because I love him, and he loves me," you replied, keeping your voice low. "It's been four years, and it's serious."

Klaus let out a bark of a laugh. "Four years is nothing in the life of an original. When will you stop living in this fantasy you've built in your mind? This will end and you will move on."

You were about to respond with a few choice words when Hayley came in carrying hope.

While your relationship with Klaus was contentious and you thought him to be cruel and cold. There was no doubt that Hope loved her daddy with all of her tiny heart. She reached out to him, and he happily took her into his arms.

"There's my little one," he cooed, holding her close. "I love you, my sweet girl."

He began to place kisses all over her, and the three year old giggled loudly.

You had baked the cake for her, and placed a number 3 candle in the middle.

"Let's light her up!" you announced.

The cake was placed on the dining room table, and Elijah stood by you. He slipped his hand in yours and squeezed.

"I want auntie y/n to light it," Hope said.

You smiled wide and kissed her on the head.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice soft.

You lit the candle, and everyone began to sing as the little Mikaelson happily ate a slice of cake, messily covering herself. You laughed, taking a cloth to wipe her little face and hands. Elijah watched you with adoring eyes, you were such a loving soul and he was so lucky to be the one to call you his own.

The cake was enjoyed by all and soon it was time for gifts. Hope was handed a large package by her father, and she eagerly tore open the paper.

You were cuddled up to Elijah, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you, my love."

"For what?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"For being here. It means a lot to me," he told you.

You looked back up at Elijah, and kissed him lightly.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you told him.

Hayley helped Hope unwrap the gift from you and Elijah. It was a wooden dollhouse, and it was a miniature replica of the compound, complete with a little Klaus, Elijah, Hayley, and Hope.

Hope hugged the dollhouse to her chest. "I love it!"

"We made it ourselves," you said with a smile.

"Look, daddy!" Hope squealed. "Auntie Y/N and Uncle 'lijah got me a house."

Klaus gave you a tight smile, and you looked at Elijah. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and held you close. This only seemed to annoy Klaus more, but he turned his attention to his daughter, and the gift that she had received.

"That's amazing, little love. Now, why don't you open the rest of your presents?"

"Okay!"

The evening winded down, and eventually Klaus and Hayley took Hope upstairs to get her ready for bed and the rest of the family retired to their rooms. You had left the dining room table a mess, and wanted to help clean up.

You had picked up a few discarded wrapping papers, when Elijah's arms came around your waist.

"Don't worry about that, my love," he whispered, pressing his lips to your neck. "Leave it, we can do it tomorrow."

"You're sure?" you asked, leaning against him.

"Very," he whispered, taking your hand and leading you towards his bedroom. "I have other plans for you."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," he replied, nipping at your ear. "You know, I've been thinking of you all day. All the things I'd like to do with you."

You flushed,  biting your lips and smiling shyly. He never failed to make your heart skip a beat when he looked at you with that seductive gaze. He never had to force it either, his stare was simply alluring and attentive, it pulled you into its grasp like a siren's song.

Elijah shut the door, and the moment you turned around, he grabbed you and kissed you passionately. His hands held your hips tightly, pulling you against him. He kissed down your jawline, and down your throat.

He pushed you gently onto the bed, kissing down your neck and inhaling the smell of your skin, pulling your clothes off as he went along.

His love, his entire world, right here in his arms. If he were a more possessive man, he'd keep you in this room until his love was imprinted in your very bones.

He kissed you softly, wanting to take his time and express how deeply he cared for you with each touch. He moved down your body, worshiping your skin with his hands and mouth, and the soft sounds that escaped you only urged him on.

His bliss was quickly broken by the sounds of his brother yelling for him at the top of his lungs- an unnecessary use of volume, considering everyone had supernatural hearing.

You reached down and cupped his face, drawing his attention back to you.

"Please don't," you whispered, a pleading look in your eyes. "Stay,"

Elijah's breath left his lungs. You were not the clingy type, in fact you were rather understanding and independent; letting him go and do whatever it was the family needed, always supporting him.

He should stay, finish what he started with you, love you, the one he can't live without. But there was clearly something going on downstairs, his family needed him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I'll be back."

"Sure," you said flatly, pulling away. You didn't quite meet his eyes as you turned on your side, facing away from him.

You were clearly upset, but he didn't have time to be swayed by his emotions. He leaned in to give you a quick kiss, but you turned your head away.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said, stroking your hair.

You didn't respond, and he had to leave you there, curled up and angry. He felt a deep pang of regret, but the thought of his family's safety was at the forefront of his mind.

As soon as Elijah left, you let your emotions come to a boil. It hurt how he was constantly running away to deal with his family. It hurt you when he put them over you, their arguments over little things always dragged him in. It made you feel undesired, and second best.

You had no doubt he cared for you, and you did believe he loved you. But did he truly love you the way he loved his own family?

No, not really. He was always holding back, never showing all of himself. He wanted a relationship, but not a true partnership. Not with you, anyway.

Your insecurities bubbled to the surface. The way Klaus acted around you, like you didn't belong, he always treated you as if you were an outsider. Perhaps he was right, that it was a fantasy, that you should move on.

It didn't matter that you were with Elijah. It didn't matter that he called you his love.

He could love you, but not be in love with you. And maybe he wasn't. Maybe this was all a lie, a ruse. 

Just too good to be true.

Klaus was pacing around the courtyard, clearly worked up and ready to take it out on the next person who walked through the door.

"Is it necessary to yell?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and collected.

"I had to make sure to get your attention, since you've been so distracted lately," Klaus snarked, a pointed look on his face.

Elijah let out a sigh, this wasn't the first time they've had this conversation. He was growing tired of Klaus' attitude. "What is it that's so important?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

"Y/n is a distraction," Klaus began. "You are blinded by her, and you've become weak and weakness will get us killed." He was speaking quickly and with anger. "You are no longer the man that I've known for a thousand years. You have forgotten where you came from, what you are, and who you are meant to protect."

"Are you suggesting I cast her aside?" Elijah questioned, his voice cold.

"Yes, exactly," Klaus answered, his expression unchanging.

"No," Elijah stated simply.

"She acts far too familiar, and is clearly not one of us," Klaus continued.

"She has proven herself time and time again," Elijah countered. "What more does she need to do?"

"I don't want Hope getting attached to someone that isn't family," Klaus said.

"You can't control who Hope gets close to," Elijah snapped, his anger finally rising.

"I can certainly try," Klaus replied, his tone icy. "And I will. Because you've allowed this woman into our home, our family, and now she's acting as if she belongs."

"She does," Elijah said, his voice steady. "You just have a hard time accepting that."

"If you really care about her, then you will do what is best," Klaus replied, his expression changing. "We both know what happens to your dalliances, they come to tragic ends. I'm trying to spare her from that, brother."

"This isn't some fling, Klaus," Elijah growled, his eyes flashing with rage.

"No, she's just a girl you enjoy fucking! And now Hope is calling her auntie, and she's acting like she's Hope's mother-"

Elijah laughed coldly, his brother was so painfully transparent, his paranoia endless and ever growing. "Is that what this is about? You're afraid of her taking Hayley's place? That I would take yours? Have you officially gone insane?" he mocked, his anger at a breaking point. "Have my actions in the last few years not been clear?"

"She will not be welcomed here once you've tired of her. Once she's gone, Hope will ask for her, and I will not allow that," Klaus stated, his voice rising. "You will have broken a little girls heart because of some stupid infatuation."

Elijah's patience with his brother had worn thin. He had to remind himself that Klaus had suffered so many losses in his long life, that his paranoia had grown into something monstrous. But in times like this, his brother could be utterly cruel, and it was impossible to see him as anything but.

"It's not some stupid infatuation," Elijah seethed, his hands clenched into fists. "I love her, and that's something you will never understand. She has been good for me, and has done nothing but support us. She's not a threat, and you know it. This is the problem with you, you want everyone to suffer as you have."

"That is not what I'm doing-" Klaus began, his voice rising. "She's not one of us, and will never be. You just keep her around as a trophy, to remind yourself that you are capable of caring for another. She doesn't belong here, and it will be her undoing."

Elijah lost his control and snapped. He grabbed his brother and threw him against the wall. Klaus' head hit the stone and cracked loudly. His face contorted into an expression of rage, his eyes flashing gold. He moved forward and punched Elijah in the face, sending him stumbling back. He rushed at his brother and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing tightly. Klaus' anger grew, and his grip tightened.

"Enough!" Hayley screamed, grabbing Klaus' arm and pulling him back. She looked between the two brothers, her eyes wide. "Why are you two fist fighting when my daughter is trying to sleep?!"

Klaus' eyes were wild, and his face was covered in blood, Elijah looked the same, and neither was ready to back down. The only thing stopping them was Hayley's presence. She stood between them, and looked at Klaus. "What did you do? What could you have possibly said to him?" she demanded.

"Y/n isn't family, and never will be," Klaus spat, glaring at Elijah. "I have to protect our daughter."

"Our daughter? You're unbelievable, Klaus," Hayley said, shaking her head. "Go. To. Bed. Both of you," she commanded.

She grabbed Klaus's hand, and dragged him away. Elijah sighed, rubbing his forehead. He looked up and saw you on one of the upper balconies with an unreadable expression on your face.

Had you seen that entire argument? Did you hear the awful things his brother had said about you?

He rushed up the stairs and met you at your bedroom door. You had your bag in your hand, and he knew immediately what was happening.

"You can't," he told you, shaking his head.

"I'm not welcome here," you whispered. "I have to go, Elijah."

"You are always welcome here," he said, reaching for you. "Please, let's talk."

"We have talked," you told him, pushing his hand away. "I've heard everything I needed to hear, Elijah. You keep choosing them over me. It's always your family first, and I understand that, but you have to see how it hurts me. I can't just keep coming second in your life."

"You aren't," he whispered, trying to draw you close, but you gently pushed him away. He felt his heart shatter at the action, and he knew he had lost you. "I want you, I choose you. Don't do this, my love."

You pushed past him, unable to hear anything else he had to say at the moment, you needed space to think, to figure out what you wanted. If this was a fight you could win. "Goodbye, Elijah," you said, giving him one last glance.

He stood there, and he was frozen. How could this have happened? He thought that he had made you understand that this was permanent. That you were forever.

But he had failed to show his love properly and he had to fix what he broke. You were his greatest love, his everything, and he couldn't live without you. He was nothing without you. So he would do whatever it took to bring you back.

Because if you were gone, so was he.

You were staying with Marcel, the only person who understood what it was like to be in the Mikaelson shadow. He wasn't thrilled that Elijah had hurt you, but he did understand that relationships weren't always easy, especially with the Mikaelsons.

He poured you a stiff drink, and let you wallow.

"I shouldn't have gone," you muttered.

"It's Hope's birthday," he pointed out.

"But I should have known better than to get involved like that, it only makes Klaus jealous," you sighed.

"Klaus is a notorious asshole, and Elijah is...well, he's not good with his emotions."

"That's putting it lightly."

You drank the whole glass in one gulp, and poured yourself another.

"I don't know why I thought that he was serious," you grumbled.

"He's serious, but he's also scared," Marcel replied. "It's a lot easier for him to push people away, then have the chance to hurt them."

"It's a terrible feeling, wanting to be a part of a family that doesn't want you," you admitted.

"I know the feeling," Marcel replied, sitting down next to you.

"He told me he loved me. He told me that we were going to spend forever together. And yet, his family still doesn't accept me." You looked up at Marcel, your eyes filled with tears.

"It's just Klaus, the rest of them adore you," he told you.

"How do I get Klaus to trust me? I'm not trying to take his daughter," you insisted.

"Just be patient, give him some time," Marcel advised.

"I've given him four years," you said. "And he's not willing to accept me even a little."

Marcel nodded, and handed you another drink. "Don't worry about Klaus, he'll get over himself."

"And Elijah?" you asked.

Marcel frowned. "That's not my area."

"Yeah," you said, nodding slowly. "Me either."

You and Marcel had a few drinks and talked the night away. By the end, you had almost completely forgotten your heartache, and were simply enjoying the company.

Marcel had fallen asleep, and you were dozing off when your phone buzzed. You opened it and saw a message from Elijah.

We need to talk.

You sighed, and sent him a simple reply.

Tomorrow.

You were far too exhausted to deal with his bullshit right now. You tossed your phone on the coffee table and fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up on Marcel's couch, a blanket thrown over you. You stretched, and grabbed your phone, heading into the kitchen.

Elijah had texted you back.

Meet me outside, I have a car waiting for you.

You frowned. He was sending a car for you? You quickly responded.

Why are you sending a car?

A response came instantly.

It's a surprise.

You shook your head, but smiled a little and texted him back.

Fine, give me 10 minutes.

Hurry, we're on a tight schedule.

You showered, and got dressed, grabbing your bag, and heading out. You gave Marcel a quick goodbye, and hopped into the town car.

Elijah was sitting there, and smiled softly.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning," you replied.

He looked you over, and you were surprised by the intense gaze. You blushed under his scrutiny.

"What?" you asked.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. "And I'm sorry, for all of this. I never meant to hurt you, or make you feel unwanted."

You shook your head. "I know you didn't," you said. "And it's okay."

"It's not," he told you, reaching for your hand. You let him take it, and he pressed a kiss to your palm.

You flushed, and looked away. "Where are we going?"

"The airport," he replied.

"What? Why?" You were completely confused.

"You are right, I'm not putting you first, and I will not allow that anymore," Elijah replied. "And to prove it, we're going somewhere, just the two of us."

"Where are we going?"

"Italy, we're going to spend a month on the Amalfi Coast." he said, a soft smile on his face.

"A month?" You asked, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Yes," he nodded, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. "I've been neglectful, and I need to remind you of how I feel about you.

"Eli, you don't have to do all of this."

"Yes, I do," he replied. "You deserve the world."

He had rented a private plane, and had arranged everything. You were incredibly impressed that he managed to pull it all off in the span of a night.

You sat beside him on the plane, his hand intertwined with yours, and a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but relax, the last couple of days had been so tense, but you couldn't stay mad at him, and a romantic getaway was exactly what you needed.

As the plane took off, Elijah reached over and brushed your hair out of your face. You lifted the arm rest and cuddled up against him, resting your head on his chest. He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You missed this, the way he was so attentive, the way he was gentle with you.

"I am sorry, for making you feel second best," he said, his voice low and full of regret.

"I know," you said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "It's okay, your dedication to your family is part of what I love about you."

You looked up at him and kissed him softly.

"Let's not dwell on the past," you said. "We have a whole month to make new memories."

"I am going to spoil you so much, my love," he said, kissing your nose.

The flight was nearly twelve hours and you immediately fell asleep when the plane leveled out. When you woke up, the sun was starting to set.

Elijah was reading a book, and had his free hand resting on your hip. You smiled, and snuggled closer. He put the book down and looked at you, his eyes soft and full of affection.

"Good morning, or rather evening," he chuckled. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you yawned.

You looked out the window, and saw the city below. It was like something out of a dream, colorful houses all stacked up, the sea sparkling as the sun set.

"Welcome to Positano," he said.

"Elijah," you whispered, awe in your voice.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's magical," you gushed.

"Yes, it is."

The plane landed, and a car was waiting. Elijah had rented an entire villa for the two of you. It was stunning, with a view of the ocean, and a private beach.

You walked through the villa, looking at all the art and antiques. It was very much Elijah's taste, and you could see yourself spending a month here.

The moon was out and it cast a soft glow over the sea. Elijah took your hand and the two of you walked down the stairs to the beach.

The sounds of the waves gently lapping on the sand soothed you. You walked down the shoreline, your hands intertwined.

"You didn't have to do all this, you know," you said, leaning against him.

"I know, but I wanted to. I needed to. It was a selfish thing, really," he replied, wrapping his arms around you.

Up ahead you saw something on the beach, it was too dark to make out, but it looked like a bunch of neatly shaped debris.

You walked a little closer, and you could make out the shapes. It was a heart, surrounded by lit candles, and flowers. The words "I love you" written with rose petals on the sand. Suddenly a bunch of twinkle lights were turned on, and the whole scene was lit up.

You turned around to ask Elijah if he had done this, but the words died in your throat. He was kneeling on the ground, a ring box in his hand.

"Y/n," he began, his voice soft and loving.

"What are you doing?" you asked, a bit breathless.

"I should have done this a long time ago," he said. "I should have married you years ago, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to give you everything you deserve."

"Eli-"

"No, let me finish," he insisted, and continued. "I've spent centuries on this earth, never truly belonging anywhere. Always searching, never finding. Until I found you. My home, my heart, my family."

You were crying, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't really process what was happening, here was the man of your dreams, pouring his heart out, telling you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

"You are my world, my everything. And I want to spend eternity by your side," he said, opening the box and showing you the ring.

The ring was absolutely stunning, a large ruby surrounded by diamonds. It looked antique and must have been worth a fortune.

"I found this ring almost five hundred years ago, right here in Italy. I knew that when I finally found the right person, I would give it to them," he said, smiling up at you.

"You can't be serious," you said, not intending for it to sound as harsh as it did. You were in complete shock.

"I have never been more serious in my entire life," he replied, his voice firm.

"What will your family say?" You asked, worried about Klaus’ reaction.

"Niklaus can go fuck himself," Elijah grinned. "As for the rest of them, they will be thrilled."

You nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.

"This is insane," you whispered, unable to stop staring at the ring.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, looking nervous. "Will you be my wife?"

"Yes," you breathed, and he took your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as though it was made for you.

He stood up, and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, your fingers tangling in his hair, kissing him back with every ounce of love you had for him.

"You're my family, you're my home," he whispered, spinning you around. "And I vow, from this day on, you will always come first. I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured, cupping his cheek. "With all my heart."

He pulled you close, kissing you deeply. You lost yourself in his embrace, in the way his hands felt on your body, his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth.

You both stumbled to the villa, tearing each other's clothes off. Your back hit the wall, and Elijah pushed your skirt up. His hands found your thighs and he squeezed the soft flesh, lifting you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed along your neck, leaving little marks in his wake.

"My fiance," he muttered against the flesh. "My darling love."

"I like the sound of that," you moaned.

"Then you're going to absolutely adore being called my wife," he grinned, moving his lips down to your breasts.

His kisses turned bruising, biting at the flesh of your tits. He was rough with you and you relished it. It was like he was finally unleashing his feelings, letting out all the love he had for you.

You tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back to yours, hungry for his kisses, drunk off of his affection.

"Bed, Eli," you murmured, but instead, he picked you up and carried you into the shower.

He set you on your feet and turned the water on.

"We are covered in sand," he grinned.

The steam was rising as the water heated up, and the moment it was hot enough Elijah pulled you in with him. You squealed as the warm water washed over you, cleaning you off.

The water was the perfect temperature, a delicious warmth, but not as delicious as the feeling of him pressing into you, pinning your front against the tile.

He reached up, taking your hands and pinning them to the tile wall.

"Keep your hands here," he commanded, pressing a kiss to the back of one.

You nodded, a small moan escaping your lips, he kissed his way down your back. He ran his tongue down the length of your spine. Soft and gentle, teasing over the top of your ass. His hands ran over your legs, and he bent you slightly, opening your cheeks to reveal the most intimate part of you.

"Beautiful," he murmured, before lapping at you.

Your knees nearly buckled as he pressed his face into your flesh. His hands spread your cheeks wide as his tongue dipped into your core. The way his mouth touched every part of you left you dizzy with need. Your thighs clenched, your clit pulsing, ready to be touched.

But you did what he told you, and kept your hands above your head. The porcelain felt cool on your heated skin and he tugged you closer, your hands moving further down as your body was pulled back. His tongue darted into your center, teasing around your hole, his saliva coating you, trailing up, finding your puckered hole, and slowly circling the muscle.

"Elijah," you whimpered, gasping as his tongue worked you open.

He slipped a finger into your dripping cunt, working it inside, pulling it out and sliding it up, moving to replace his tongue on your tight entrance. He swirled around your asshole before pushing the pad of his finger into your tight heat, his mouth sucking on your ass, soft moans escaping him, vibrating against your flesh.

You struggled to keep yourself upright, your hands against the wall, bracing yourself, wiggling against him. The warm water of the shower cascading over you, the sensations were too much and not enough. You were panting, your head tilted back, eyes closed, as you were overwhelmed by his touch.

He pulled back and stood up, kissing along the back of your neck, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you close.

"Do you want more, sweetheart?" He murmured in your ear, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes," you breathed, arching against him.

His cock was hard, trapped between the two of you. You ground against him, rubbing yourself on his length, desperate for the friction.

"How much more?" He asked, a smirk in his voice.

"All of it," you said.

"Right here, up against the shower wall?"

"Yes, Elijah, please," you begged.

He hummed and reached between the two of you, taking his length and teasing your core with it. He loved making you beg for him, and he loved hearing the desperation in your voice. But you were now to be his wife, and he was going to take care of you.

He eased himself into your center, groaning at the tightness of you, how good it felt to be surrounded by your warmth. You moaned as he pressed inside of you, the thickness of his cock filling you.

He placed his hands on top of yours against the wall, intertwining your fingers.

"I love you," he murmured, his hips moving against you.

"I love you," you moaned, rocking your hips with him.

He took his time with you, savoring the feeling of your body. He had almost lost you, and he needed to remind you how much you meant to him, how he cherished you.

His slow, languid movements were torture, the heat building inside of you, his thick cock rubbing every inch of your pussy. You moved together, the two of you in sync.

Your orgasm started to build, a slow burn deep within. You had never been so turned on, or so loved, the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

"That's it, baby, come for me," he encouraged, his hips picking up the pace.

He could feel the change, and he knew exactly how to push you over the edge. His thrusts became harder, more purposeful. His lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, and he sucked the tender flesh.

Your walls clenched and you fell apart, coming undone for him, moaning his name, over and over. He smiled against your skin, he could stay buried inside of you forever, and never tire of the way you made him feel.

He turned off the shower and pulled you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his body on top of yours.

"I can't wait to make love to you every day, for the rest of our lives," he smiled.

"That's a long time, Eli," you teased.

"Not long enough," he smirked.

He took your legs and spread them, kneeling between them. He guided his length into you, and pushed all the way in.

He groaned, loving the way your body opened up to him, the way you felt like home.

"Elijah," you gasped, your hands reaching for him, needing to touch him.

"I love the way you say my name," he smiled, leaning down and kissing you, his tongue licking into your mouth.

He rocked into you, slowly, the feeling of you was addictive. You were his drug and he would never be able to get enough of you. He pictured all the ways he would make love to you, the ways he would please you, worship you.

"My beautiful girl," he groaned, his body on fire, his desire burning, and it only fueled his need.

His hips snapped against yours, and you gripped the sheets, the pleasure coursing through you. Another orgasm was building, the feeling of him deep inside of you, the way he looked at you with such love.

"Come with me, my love," he pleaded, his hand moving between the two of you, finding your clit, his fingers gently rubbing the bundle of nerves.

He was so close, and he was determined to have you come with him, to fall apart for him, together.

You whimpered and moaned, your hips lifting to meet his, chasing the feeling, knowing it was so close. He pressed his lips to yours, and the dam broke, crashing over the both of you.

You came together, moaning, his cock twitching as he emptied inside of you, your walls clenching and milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

You collapsed, boneless, spent, completely and utterly satisfied. He smiled at the sight of you, blissed out and glowing, your hair wet and splayed out over the pillows. . He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

He laid down next to you, making sure to keep you close. You curled into his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

"So, tell me more about this wedding of ours," you grinned, holding your hand up to look at your ring.

"I'll arrange everything, don't you worry about a thing," he said softly, nuzzling your neck.

"Is that so? I don't get any input?" you teased, turning to look at him, your lips brushing against his.

"I mean, you can make suggestions, if you'd like," he smirked, his hand running along the curve of your hip.

"Hmm, well, I do think we should get married in Positano," you smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"It’s perfect here, isn't it?" he mused, a soft smile on his lips.

"I want it to be a small wedding," you said, tracing patterns on his chest. "Family and close friends only."

"Of course," he replied. "I want it to be something just for us."

The two of you talked until the early morning, dreaming up your future together, and making plans for your wedding. It would be a simple affair, a celebration of your love, in a beautiful location, with the people who cared about the two of you the most.

The month spent in Italy was something out of a dream, the days filled with long walks on the beach, picnics in the gardens, and nights filled with dancing and drinking. You made love in the most luxurious beds, and in the most unorthodox places, including the rooftop patio one night. You even made it a bit of a game, seeing who could find the best spots to fuck in. Elijah always won, and was very proud of himself, you loved seeing him so carefree, so happy.

There was no talk of his family or what was going on at home. It was like you were in your own little world, just the two of you. But it was time to return home, the news of your engagement was something you both wanted to share in person.

When you entered the compound, Hope came running up to her favorite uncle, Elijah scooped her up in his arms and spun her around.

"Uncle ‘lijah! Auntie y/n you're home!" she grinned, and you smiled at her, ruffling her hair.

"Have you been behaving for your mother?" Elijah asked, carrying her towards the courtyard, letting her tell you both all about what she had been up to while you were away.

"I see the trip did you both some good," Klaus said, walking towards the three of you. His eyes darted to the ring on your finger, the red ruby catching the light. "Is that what I think it is?"

"What is?" Hope asked, looking confused.

"I asked aunt y/n to marry me," Elijah told Hope, smiling sweetly at her.

"You did?" She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Yes," you nodded, laughing at the excitement.

Hope hugged Elijah tightly, and Klaus looked at his brother, a hint of a smile on his lips. The sight of his daughter so happy warmed his heart.

"Well, I wish you both every bit of happiness," he said, giving you a tight smile.

"Thank you," you replied, knowing his words were sincere and it was probably the most enthusiastic response you would ever get from him. It was progress and that was enough for you.

Elijah put Hope down, and she took off running, the news of your engagement clearly something she was very excited about. You could hear her yelling the news as she ran through the compound. Rebekah was the first to appear, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" She beamed, and you hugged her back, her enthusiasm contagious. "I better be a bridesmaid."

The rest of the Mikaelson's slowly came and offered their congratulations. Hayley and Freya both hugged you, Marcel shook Elijah's hand and Kol gave you a warm smile. Hope was thrilled, talking a mile a minute about all the ways she was going to help with the wedding.

"Can I be a bridesmaid?" she asked, her cute little face pleading.

You knelt down so you were at her level, taking her hand. "How about something even more special? No one else at the wedding is going to have such an important job."

"What is it?" She asked, her face completely in awe.

"Will you be my flower girl?"

She squealed and jumped into your arms, squeezing you tight. "Really? Yes! I'd love to!"

You laughed and hugged her back.

Elijah watched the scene, a warmth in his chest. You were his family, his home, the missing piece that had made him whole. He had finally found the love he had been searching for.

You caught him staring, and walked over to him, his arm wrapping around your waist. He kissed the side of your head and let out a contented sigh. You were everything he ever wanted and so much more.

"I can't wait to call you my wife," he smiled.

"Neither can I," you said, your lips meeting his, sealing the promise, always and forever.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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#elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #hope mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #hayley marshall #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #engagement #romance

[queenhunter102]

Cod boys and how they come home.

Captain John Price I can see this man having one of his last phone calls with and in code telling the rough timeline of him and his boys coming home. When he does finally step off that chopper and onto that British Soil, I can see that man running to you full speed as he wraps his arms around, damn near toppling the pair of you over. “Hello, my love,” he would whisper as he buried his face into you, just taking in your smell, that thing he wished he could bottle up and take with him on missions, not that he didn’t already have his matching ring. He just wanted that scent to linger longer than it did while he was on missions. Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick Now, Kyle? I see him as the type to just rock up to your flat looking like a little lost puppy, his big brown eyes and the fake petty lip when you swing the door open to him before pouncing on you like a lion when you welcome him into your arms. This man’s mouth would not stop running like he would constantly utter words of praise, like “I adore you” and “You are my everything.” It would be like this man is layering it on thick, hoping you don’t let him go any time yet. Why would you? He was the best damn teddy there ever could be. Alejandro Vargas Now, sweet talker over here? He wouldn’t immediately just go straight home. No, oh nononono, this man would stop off and get you flowers, your favourite drink, food, you name it, like this man is acting like YOU had left on a mission and had finally returned, not him, and when he had unlocked the door to his little house. He would drop everything onto the coffee table just long enough for him to launch himself at you, pinning you to the couch and peppering kisses all over, “Necesito que me des Vida”, he would whisper as he pressed more and more kisses to your jaw. And why wouldn’t you give him life? You did every day. Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish See Johnny here. This man is a fiend when he comes home, like he is everywhere, all over you. Despite being the smallest out of the group, he makes up for it with his ability to find a way under your clothes. To the point, you are a giggly mess, and to where you are shirtless and locked in a cupboard somewhere, pressed against the door, trying to steal all of your oxygen, only breaking apart to whisper things like “Please let me in no-one will notice” or “five more minutes, just five I went months without you.” And who could you deny him? He had fought in your honour, in your name… well, his really. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley Now, Si? This big oaf would have waited hours before rushing home. He would have filled out the paperwork he needed to, making sure it got to the right people, even if that meant hand delivery. This man would have spent so much time at the base that you would think you must have had the dates wrong or that the worst must have happened while you sat on the couch and waited for him to walk through the door. And when he finally did come home, you would wrap him into your arms pulling him into you, “Sor’ove, had shit to finish” he would mutter before wrapping you in his arms, pulling you tight into him. What are a few hours of waiting when he has the next two weeks off?

Taglist: @cringeycookies (If you wanna be in my Taglist: Here) Remember: leaving a like, re-blogging, and commenting helps in this world and encourages more. See you around, my little loves. Kissess.

#captain price x reader #ghost riley #captain price #cod mw22 #cod smut #johnny mactavish x reader #cod cod mw22 cod x reader o/b/a #cod story #john price #konig smut #cod #gaz x reader #price #Captian Price #Captain Price x Reader #Ghost #Ghost x reader #Simon Riley #Simon Riley x Reader #Soap #johnny mactavish #gaz #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #o/b/a #soap #ghost #simon riley x reader #Captain Price x reader #captain Price

[calicoheartz]

Can you write a Caitlin Clark where she always tapes her ring finger before the game and people find videos from way back in high school of her doing this tradition, after a Iowa game she gets interviewed about the tradition, and everyone pays attention even her teammates bc she never told them the reason behind the tradition which was bc she married her high school sweetheart and knew ever since they got together she was gonna marry her

The Promise of Always ; Caitlin Clark ﹒⟢

summary : you and Caitlin being highschool sweethearts ♡

wc; 346

warnings : none , just fluff :)

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : im trying my best to finish up the rest of the reqs , there will be a lot more new content by the end of this weekend ❤️ enjoy ◡̈

Caitlin stood at the edge of the basketball court, her fingers deftly wrapping tape around her ring finger.

The star guard was always known for her pre-game routines. One such ritual, unnoticed by many, was the habit of taping her ring finger before every game. A tradition she had carried since her highschool years, with the reason behind it only being known to her, hidden beneath the layers of tape and unspoken memories.

But as Caitlin’s fame grew, so did the curiosity about this particular ritual. People began to notice the taped finger and wondered about its significance. However the point guard kept her reasons to herself, never sharing them even with her closest teammates.

After a particularly thrilling game against a fierce rival, where her skills once again shone brightly, a reporter finally mustered up the courage to ask her about the mysterious tradition.

Caitlin, surprised by the question, remained as composed as ever, paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. She then glanced at her teammates briefly, realizing she never truly explained the reason behind this tradition of hers.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly began to speak. Sharing the story of the time where she met and fell in love with her highschool sweetheart, claiming their bond had been strong from the start, and as they grew older they knew they had to make a promise to eachother. A promise of eternal love and commitment.

“We always knew we were meant to be together,” she explained, “So I started taping my ring as a reminder of the promise we made to eachother long ago. Especially since I cant wear my wedding ring while playing” she giggled.

As the interview spread across social media, videos from Cait’s highschool games resurfaced, showing her taping her finger, a simple but gesture that is so deeply personal yet so powerfully symbolic.

Not long after, pictures of your magical wedding day and quiet engagement were posted to the guards personal social media, no longer feeling the need to keep your whirlwind of a romance a secret.

her post 🥹❤️

liked by : paigebueckers , katemartin03 , and 256,000 others

caitlinclark22 happy anniversary to the person who completes me. My other half. I love you more than words can describe , thank you for giving me the strength and courage to continue with my dreams. I’ve adored you since I was 16, and I will continue to adore you until the end. I love you y/n ! 💍

-

sorry this was so short!! i tried not to stray too far from the prompt so lmk if u want more details! tysm for reading 😊

#wlw #wcbb #wlw imagine #caitlin clark #wcbb x reader #caitlin clark x reader #headcannons #my hcs #iowa wbb #kate martin

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fourteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from Soldier Boy's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

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

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out. 

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said? 

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

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

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with  enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses. 

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it,  but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking  and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game,  before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't.  It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you.  He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him.  Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in  bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

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

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know. :)

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Arachnophilia: (Part Twenty-Nine)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Fluff + Angst. Breeding kink, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, Tongue Play, Creampie, Strong Aftercare.

‘Arañita… I’m, not sure I’m ready for this.’

Mig’s soft voice caught you off guard. You were busy getting dressed in the corner of the den, shifting out of your spider suit into something more casual, and you hadn’t noticed Mig had started anxiously fidgeting in his own unique way.

He’d used his webs to hang his body upside-down from the ceiling, and he was now swinging back and forth with his head barely an inch away from the floor, trying to imitate a spider hanging in mid-air.

He was slowly spinning in a circle, his arms folded and his eyes closed, his brow knotted in thought.

You couldn’t help it; the sight of him made you melt, and a soft giggle spluttered from your lips. You hid it with your hand but Mig was quick to notice.

‘Mm?’ he grunted, carefully opening one big, red eye. ‘Arañita, did you hear me?’

‘Mhm. I sure did’ you said, pushing down your laughter as you approached. You sank down to your knees and shifted his head so that it was laying in your lap, allowing you to comb his hair through with your fingers. He looked nervous at first, his big red eyes peering up at you in this odd position, but the longer you preened him the softer he became.

Eventually, his eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting to reveal his teensy little fangs peeking out. You smiled.

‘I refuse to believe hanging like that is comfortable’ you whispered gently against his forehead. Miguel grumbled.

‘It is not, but- my instincts desire me to try it. It is… comforting, if not comfortable.’

‘You’re really freaking out that badly?’

As you stroked his head back and forth Miguel nodded again, his red eyes slowly blinking open to peer up at you above him.

‘Yes, mi tesoro. I am… Quite, freaked out, as you say.’

You sighed and slowly nodded back. ‘Yeah… Yeah, me too, honestly.’

You didn’t blame Mig for being nervous. It wasn’t objectively meant to be that scary, but oh god it was. Gabriel had asked you, Mig, and Miguel to try and visit his baby daughter Micaela now that they’d been reunited. Since the little girl was sick and Mig was, well, Mig, a giant 9ft spider hybrid, they’d all agreed it would be easier to keep her in her own universe, and have you, Mig and Miguel visit via a portal.

They’d calibrated the coordinates so that they could drop in onto the roof of the hospital she was being kept at, avoiding any onlookers or hospital staff, and Gabriel would meet them there to just hang out and get to know the little girl they were now working to save.

It was a nice idea, and nobody could say no to Gabriel’s big puppy-dog eyes, but it was also taking a toll on Mig.

He had only just started interacting with people again, and outside you and Miguel his socialization was still pretty limited. The spider society were more accepting than most, and even there he was largely relegated to looks of fear and morbid curiosity. He wasn’t a real ‘person’ to many of them.

Any but you, that is, and that meant the idea of trying to interact with a baby was terrifying, especially when he felt like it needed to go right. This was his niece after all.

‘You got this, Miggy’ you whispered, sensing his silence. Mig had started disassociating and his eyes were growing dilated, but at the sound of your voice he blinked them back to normal.

You felt his soft, thick hair nestling against your thighs as he craned his neck to see you better. When you brushed his cheek with your fingers, he purred.

‘Mm… I hope you are right, arañita’ he murmured softly. ‘I just- if I upset my brothers offspring—’

‘Do you have to say offspring, sweetheart?’ you giggled, lightly cutting him off. Mig purred a little louder and shifted on your lap.

‘What, am I not supposed to say that?’

‘You say baby, sweetheart. Just say baby’ you insisted, still giggling a little from how sweet that enormous beast looked on your lap.

He tilted his head and grunted. ‘I… I will, try, I suppose, if you believe it may offend my brother otherwise.’

‘Not offend, just… might confuse him, is all. Don’t worry.’

You took another quiet moment to comb out his hair while he closed his eyes and relished the touch. It was a peaceful moment, in the warmth of your den.

‘… I, um…’

You paused, unsure of what to say. Neither you nor Mig had acknowledged your awkward love confession since it happened, not really, beyond agreeing it just wasn’t the right time to acknowledge it. This was fine, but you kept feeling the urge to say you loved him now that it’d been said once, and without that discussion you weren’t sure if you could say it or not.

Mig opened his eyes and peered up at you again. You didn’t need words at this point. Mig read your thoughts with ease.

‘… Mi tesoro’ he whispered smoothly, reaching one large, calloused hand up to cup your cheek. ‘Tú eres mi corazón, arañita. No lo dudes.’

You smiled a little wider as your heart swelled. ‘Mi corazón’ you whispered back.

You leaned down to kiss him, his claws drawing your face towards his own, when—

‘EY! Are you home?’

You both jumped in surprise at the sound of Miguel’s voice drifting in from the top of your nest. You reluctantly let Mig go and helped him stumble onto his eight fluffy legs, before rushing to the entrance to greet your slightly unexpected friend.

‘Miguel! Hey, down here!’

He was standing at the entrance to the nest with folded arms. His eyes kept roaming around the forest, almost as if he were nervous, but the moment he saw you he stopped and fixated. His face turned quiet, polite, verging on perhaps affectionate, as he curled his lip and helped pull you out of the hole.

‘I was worried you’d be late’ he grunted, swiftly putting you to the side before reaching to help Mig. The great spider took his hand, but, it was clear he didn’t need the help, and assumed instead that Miguel simply wanted to hold hands.

 Miguel was left slightly flustered with his comparatively smaller hand in Mig’s as his enormous variant beamed with joy, and you struggled not to break down laughing.

‘Can- can we just, go, please?’ Miguel hissed, far too awkward to break the contact. You nodded.

‘Yeah, uh- don’t worry I can set up the portal’ you said, refusing to give Miguel any excuse to let go. He was left with a sour, confused expression as Mig held him tight, unaware that this wasn’t what he’d wanted.

You input the exact coordinates as given and created a portal, and without further delay, all three of you stepped inside. Miguel used this as his excuse to break Mig’s grip.

You all stepped through with relative ease, out of the cool, misty mountain woods and out into the head of the hospital roof, with the tarmac wavering ever so slightly with heat lines beneath the clear blue sky.

You could hear traffic, distant cries and calls, and could smell gas and street food. 

It smelled like the city all right. You’d been in Miguel’s home so long you’d almost forgotten it.

‘Ah- Dios mio, Aquí huele fatal eh?’ Mig grunted as he stepped through. His higher senses were delicate from a decade of living in the woods, and you saw him do a little shudder with his abdomen as the smell assaulted him.

Miguel grunted, but quickly took a sympathetic stance with the giant shuddering spider. ‘te acostumbrarás’ he muttered back.

‘Ay, eso espero’ Mig replied.

‘HERMOSO! You made it!’

The three of you jumped as you saw the hospital door swing open, revealing the glowing, grinning face of Gabriel as he stormed up towards you, his arms filled with a soft little bundle of blankets.

You immediately felt the tension rise. Oh boy, here we go.

‘Hermosito’ Miguel and Mig said in unison. They shot each other a glance while Gabriel just chuckled.

‘Ey, I’m glad you found your way here quickly. The nurses are on break so I managed to break ‘er out pretty easily, and they shouldn’t be up here at any point’ Gabriel said as he approached. ‘So, did you guys get here okay?’

‘Yes, we- literally just portalled in. It took less than a second’ Miguel replied, as he noticed that Mig was too spellbound by the bundle to say a thing.

‘Oh, right! The portals. I don’t know how you guys

‘So, how’s the uh- the work been going?’ Gabriel asked as he shifted the bundle. You could see Mig craning to try and see the baby while doing a poor job of looking like he wasn’t, while Miguel was overtly trying to avoid looking at it. You kept your giggles to yourself. Sweet boys, you thought. Your sweet, dumb boys.

‘It has been, ah—’

‘Satisfactory’ Mig said, cutting Miguel off. ‘Yes, we’ve drafted some plans to approach the issue, based on the uh- blood samples you sent us. It is, quite nasty, but—’

‘We can do it’ Miguel said, butting in with his calm, cool confidence. Gabriel beamed.

‘Ah, wonderful! Well, how about- you guys meet your little patient then’ he said, and without further ado, he began to peel back the blankets while shielding her from the sun. You could almost feel the boys tensing up with a wild mixture of emotions. Fear, apprehension, excitement, a giddy well of feelings for this one tiny thing.

The blanket peeled back, bit by bit, and there she was.

Mig’s eyes almost dilated at the sight.

She was so small, even by baby standards. Micaela was just a tiny little thing, with delicate little fingers and big brown eyes darting about her new surroundings, quivering slightly in her covers. She had the same dark hair as Gabriel, with slightly darker skin, looking like a real mini O’Hara in the making.

You weren’t sure what to do but ‘aw’, until you were abruptly distracted by an unusual sound.  

You glanced up and noticed that Mig seemed to be… purring? He was vibrating softly, his back legs tapping and rustling. It was something you’d never seen him do before. You’d seen him purr, sure, but this was new. It was like a cat admiring its kittens.

‘You want to hold her, hermoso?’ Gabriel said cheerily as he approached. Gabriel looked happy about the idea, but as he got closer Mig instinctively took a step back, his hands raised high.

‘N-No, no, Gabriel I- I’m too…’ Mig stammered to a halt. His wide eyes were fixed on that baby.

‘Hey, Miggy, it’s okay’ you whispered. You put a hand on his side and held him tight. ‘It’s—’

‘Ay Dios mio- let me.’

You were suddenly but gently pushed aside as Miguel moved forward, taking control as always. He stepped up and grabbed Mig’s hands, dragging him down until his spider legs buckled and folded, and with a stiff lip, he began positioning him.

‘You put your hand- like this, remember to support the head and neck, keep her close to your torso, and be careful of wriggling.’

He listed everything off with unnerving precision as he forced Mig into the right stance, but when he turned to help transfer the girl from Gabriel’s hands, he faltered. His stony, calm expression melted, his eyes widening and wavering a little in the bright sun.

The little girl cooed and waved her hands as she fixated on Miguel, but the moment Gabriel moved her closer to Mig, she began squirming in fear. She didn’t cry but she did let out a few dangerous warbles, like she was about to, and Gabriel was forced to reluctantly pull her back.

‘Ah! Sorry, it- I guess she’s, not used to the uh… size, and the… spideryness’ Gabriel murmured.

You saw Mig falter, his body curling in on itself. He stopped his soft purring and glanced down at his claws, his furry abdomen, his body in comparison to everyone else’s. You instinctively pressed in at his side and tried to comfort him by hugging his enormous abdomen.

‘Ah… yes. I, forgot, for a moment’ Mig murmured. In truth, part of him had expected the baby to have the same instinctive familial reaction he’d had.

As if trying to avoid it getting more awkward, Gabriel instead turned to Miguel. ‘Hey! It’s fine, uh- we’ll try again in a minute. Miguel! You try holding her for a bit instead. Maybe it’ll help.’

You could see it from your vantage point against Mig’s side. You saw Miguel’s lip tremble ever so slightly, the way his stiff shoulders deflated. You saw the flash of humanity in his eyes, and so did Gabriel. He didn’t say a thing.

Whether he said anything or not, it didn’t matter. As a dad himself now, and especially as a dad with a child in a precarious situation, he knew the eyes Miguel was making.

‘Hermoso’ he whispered in a gentler tone, gently lifting Micaela to be taken. Miguel swallowed so hard his Adam's apple jolted, but eventually he caved, and slowly lifted the girl into his arms.

The way he held her betrayed an instinctive understanding of childcare. His careful, perfectly planned cupping, the way he stabilized the head and her bottom while keeping her close to his chest. He rocked her with expert timing, and soon she was cooing sleepily in his arms.

You weren’t sure if anyone else saw it, but you saw something strange in his eyes at that moment. Some deep, unfathomable pit of longing, a rush of melancholic joy.

‘Arrorró mi niña’ he whispered against her forehead, forgetting that anyone else was even there. You noticed Gabriel smiling sadly.

‘Arrorró mi niña, arrorró mi sol… arrorró pedazo, de mi corazón.’

Miguel whispered it all in the hopes that no one else would hear, but you could see his lips moving slowly as he rocked the frail baby girl in his arms.

You continued lightly stroking Mig’s side, and bit by bit he calmed down. He might not be able to hold her, but right now… well, this was okay. This was acceptable. He watched Miguel, a smaller carbon copy of himself, and pretended it was him holding the infant instead.

Miguel clung to Micaela for a few minutes, silently whispering and shushing as she cooed and squirmed. She got drool all over his suit, but he didn’t care one bit. Beneath the sun, holding that baby who looked at least a little like someone who he once knew and loved with all his heart, he felt the most overwhelming sense of peace.

It hurt, but… it hurt good.

He gave himself another peaceful minute before realizing he needed to let go, or he might never be able to find the strength to give her up.

‘Oye! You, your turn’ Miguel grunted as he turned towards you. You blanked as you saw his claw pointing in your direction.

‘Wha- no! No, no, don’t be silly, this is your guy’s thing, it’s not- AH!’

Miguel dragged you up and threw you under his arm like luggage, something that a man of his size could just do, and despite your grumbling he carried you over and sat you down on the floor beside Mig’s little forelegs.

‘This is a group thing, you participate in group things’ Miguel said sternly.

With utmost care, Miguel lifted the little baby Micaela up and gently lowered her down into your own stiff and waiting arms. You saw him stiffen his lip as he gently nudged your fingers into the right position, wordlessly moving your body like a mannequin, until at last she was laid down in your arms to rest.

You remained stiff, terrified of doing even the most minor thing wrong.

Micaela stared back with those wide, gormless eyes, her fist in her mouth and her other hand lightly tucked to her chest. You blanked fully.

‘Ah… aha, uh… hi?’ you murmured to the baby, as if she’d somehow respond. Miguel pinched his brow. ‘Dios mío, este idiota…’

Micaela was silent for another few seconds before suddenly squealing. She babbled and began pawing at you, her big eyes roaming over your face with a deep, innocent curiosity.

Bit by bit, you relaxed.

‘She, ah… she is kinda cute, huh?’ you chuckled.

‘Did you, just realize that?’ Miguel asked in that quietly sarcastic tone of his. He dropped down to a squat so he could watch more closely with Gabriel at his side, and despite being a little grumpy earlier he managed to shoot you a small smile.

‘I mean… I guess, yeah’ you replied softly, not wanting to disturb her as she tugged at your suit.

‘Word of advice, ah- babies are always cute, whether you think so or not. Especially when their parent is beside you’ Miguel whispered back. You couldn’t hide your giggle, nor the way your eyes began to light up as Miguel gently mouthed your suit, settling right into your stiff arms.

‘Yeah… she’s cute’ you whispered. ‘She’s real cute.’

Micaela then decided to reach up and slap your face, causing you to splutter.

‘BLAGH- HEY—’

The little girl squealed with excitement and began slapping your face more, grabbing at your nose and patting your lips, nearly poking your eye out as she babbled curiously. You just let it happen, all while giggling and spluttering your words.

‘Oh- shes- great, yep- blegh- she’s a real- character-ACK—’

Miguel hid his mouth as he smiled while Gabriel laughed out loud.

In that quiet moment, you didn’t see Mig watching you like a hawk, with those wide, dilated red eyes almost unblinking in their fixation.

He watched the smile on your face, the way you shrugged awkwardly and tried your best to keep Micaela safe and sturdy, the way you let her jab her fingers in your face and splutter with muted giggles.

He watched, quiet and contemplative.

‘Are we going to talk about what you said?’

Ay, mi amor, there is nothing to be said about it. I don’t need to say it. I know it to be true, Mig thought to himself. He felt a load on his heart slowly lighten.

He’d been so afraid of loss, but seeing this… Seeing you, cradling his niece, giggling with his brother, and shrugging and joking and showing the same tenderness you’d always shown…

I don’t think you’re scary.

Mig flashed back to the way you’d looked at him the first day you met. That sweet, awkward but polite smile, slowly fading into one of genuine compassion.

And then, for a moment, he remembered his life for the past decade or more. Sitting alone in the woods, waiting, praying, sadly strumming his webs alone as he begged for anyone to come, anyone to even see him, let alone love him.

It was a cold memory. A pit, a void, he thought he’d never escape.

But he had.

He sat here now, beneath the sun on the hospital roof, with his family. With his niece, his brother, his strange bitter variant, and… you. You.

The reason he was here at all. Sitting cross-legged on the hot tarmac, nestled in the shade of his gargantuan shadow, holding that baby in your arms as she gurgled and drooled on your suit, looking as patient as possible.

That baby… what if… you could hold his baby like that too…

He lulled as he felt the warm sun heating the dark fur on his abdomen, and he began to subtly vibrate. It started in his front paws and went all the way back to his little stubby end, just a subtle shake, as he felt truly, utterly content for the first time.

‘Oh, hey! Look who’s after her tío!’

Mig blinked and glanced over to see that Micaela was finally looking up at him from within your grip, her fist in her mouth as she gurgled. She wasn’t screaming or shying away in fear anymore. No, now she looked curious.

‘Ey, Miguelito! Try holding her’ Gabriel whispered with a hand cupping his mouth.

Mig went stiff, but you slowly rose up to your feet with Micaela in your hands and Miguel helping you balance by steadying your arms. You walked right up to Mig while bouncing Micaela.

‘Here, Miggy. Look, she wants to say hi.’

Mig stiffened further, but not out of fear. He froze because, for just a moment, he saw what could almost be called a vision.

He saw it. You, walking up to him, holding your child, his beautiful little offspring that you made with him, holding it up for him to take. Your child. His child. With your delicate touch and patient smile, and those beautiful dimples on your cheeks, cradling the babe you both loved so dearly.

In a world where nothing mattered but you, and him. A sweet, domestic picture, where you sat outside your nest, your home, and rocked his baby beside him.

In a near daze he held out his hands, and he allowed you to carefully put Micaela into them. You kept your hands over his as he cupped her head, neck, and bottom, pulling her right up to his enormous, muscled chest.

She looked so, so tiny against him, like a mouse, but he cupped her with a care that seemed almost impossible for someone of his size. Micaela lay and gurgled and cooed between the two of you, her little legs and fists flailing. When you looked up at Mig there were barely a few inches between your face and his.

‘Hey… Look, she likes you’ you whispered, smiling up at Mig’s dumbstruck face. He didn’t respond. He just stared at you, his red eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, as he held his family. As he held you. As he watched you giggle and stroke her little tufty hair, as he watched your smile and the creases by your eyes.

‘… Yes. Yes, she- she seems less, afraid’ Mig murmured. He reluctantly looked away from you just to focus briefly on his darling little niece. He let his thumb stroke her side, her fists, admiring her tiny fingers and tiny toes in her little one-piece.

His breath became a little shaky as he really, truly took in what was happening right now.

‘She… yes, she…’

He stumbled on his words as Micaela reached up and put her fist on his cheek. He went still. He went silent.

You watched Mig’s eyes dilate like a cat, widening until it looked near painful. His lips moved but no sound came out. He just stared, feeling those tiny fingers on his rough skin, that sweet little face grumbling and drooling in his grip.

‘Ah…. A-ah…’

‘Bah!’

Micaela squirmed and squealed, gently slapping his face. Mig looked like he might cry. ‘Ah… m-mi sobrinita’ he choked, ‘No dejaré que nada te lastime. Prometo… prometo.’

Micaela drooled all over his finger, making a mess as she slapped him and pawed at his giant fingers, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care at all. You watched him as his lips turned into a smile, as he relished this moment, the moment he never thought he’d feel.

He’d experienced true joy, and he never wanted to go back again.

Mig was quiet for the rest of the session. He was quiet as Micaela eventually started to bawl her little eyes out, and Gabriel said she needed to be taken back to her room. He was quiet as you said goodbye to Gabriel, as Miguel offered a parting grumble, and he was quiet even as you opened your own portal back to your home in the woods.

You stepped through the portal back to the forest clearing with Mig at your back, and it was only then that you noticed he’d been especially quiet.

‘You okay, Miggy?’

Mig jumped a little and glanced down. He saw your face was concerned and he forced a smile. ‘Ah- yes, mi a- mi tesoro. I’m well’ he murmured.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes. Yes… I’m, very good, in fact’ he whispered calmly, and he meant it. You smiled and continued walking.

‘Okay, good. Good. I’m tryna trust you here! I’m putting my faith in you telling the truth. So, what did you think? She’s sweet right?’

Mig slowly nodded, but he couldn’t stop his mind from drifting further. I want you. I want you, arañita. I love you.

‘Ah, yes, she- she was, very sweet. Such an, optimistic babe, given her circumstances’ Mig replied quietly.

‘I know! I was so surprised. I mean she had to leave pretty quickly, and Gabriel said we caught her on a good day, but…’

As you continued rambling on about the day on the trek towards the nest, Mig found himself losing focus again. He just couldn’t stop the growing urge in his body.

It wasn’t the rut. It wasn’t that simple, not at all. It was something… more. It was instinct and emotion, the powerful conjoined feeling of love and primal desire. It was love, it was lust, it was a need. It was itching for you. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

Eventually, you noticed his silence again, and you paused to try and speak to him.

‘Mig, are you—’

You squeaked in shock as something hard hit your back.

You were winded as you hit the bark of a tree, the same tree against which Mig had taken you the first time. It took you a second or two to realize what was happening.

Mig had pinned you to the tree.

You felt hot breath on your neck, breath that moved down your nape to your forehead as his enormous body arched. You could feel the immense weight, the unfathomable strength. It was like being pinned by a car. You felt utterly powerless.

‘Mig?’

‘Shh.’

You felt that strange, alien abdomen shaking as he moved closer, rustling like a rattlesnake. You heard his furry legs shifting, pattering, tapping a rhythm on the ground as he kept you steady. Your gut instinctively tightened.

Oh, god, how you loved that sound.

‘Mig? Are you—’

‘Shh…’

‘Is- a-are you rutting—’

‘No.’

Mig held you close as he breathed in your scent, huffing the top of your forehead like he wanted to saturate his lungs with it. He was panting softly, his rough lips tasting your skin as he drifted down your face from above.

‘Mine…’

His words sent a shiver down your spine.

‘Mine.’

You felt his rough claws digging in, tearing your clothes into little shreds. He ripped them aside piece by piece, and with each bit that came loose, he squeezed, as if he wanted to imprint his hand into every inch of flesh you had to offer.

The chill air nipped at your skin as you were drawn to nakedness against the tree, and all you could do was whine and pant.

‘Miggy, ah—’

‘Mine.’

He whispered it with absolute resolve, right as he tore the final bit of clothing aside. He then squeezed out some of his silky thread, using it to stick you in place so his hand could grasp your jaw in its grip, forcing you to face him.

His eyes were burning, but he didn’t smell like rut. This was new.

‘Miggy?’ you whispered, gently stroking his face. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch.

‘I… I-I want, that’ he whispered, now surer than ever of what he needed most.

‘Want, w-what, Mig?’

‘That. I want… that’ he repeated, his soft eyes closing as he nestled into your neck. ‘What we just saw. What Gabriel has. I want… I want you. I want YOU, arañita.’

Your ribs heaved as he held you close to his body, his sweaty abs slowly moving up and down against your belly as he gripped you.

‘I… I want you too, Mig, I-'

‘No. Listen.’

You went silent as his claws gripped a little harder. You heard him growling, a low, primal gurgle in the back of his throat.

‘That little girl is sick. Their life may end in tragedy’ Mig whispered in his usual blunt fashion, a sentiment that quickly made you tense.

‘M-Miggy this isn’t very, romantic, ah—’

‘Listen to me’ he said, his voice now firm as he squeezed you tighter. You squeaked and went silent.

‘… It may end in tragedy. But it was worth it. Looking at that little girl, my blood, my brother’s offspring, I… I understood. I am so afraid of loss, that I feel no joy could ever be worth the price. But I was wrong.’

His claws dug in tight as he lifted you up the tree, his eyes fixed on your face as he embraced your naked body against his own. The little shiver in his spine went all the way down to his abdomen, and he trembled with yearning, his fur bristling in the sweet autumn chill. You felt his sharp claws gently stroking you, his thumb going up and down your waist.

‘I was wrong’ he repeated in a breathy, husky voice, right against your lips. ‘You, are worth it. No matter what comes, no matter what happens in the end, you are worth it. I want that future with you.’

He squeezed so hard his claws gently pierced your side, his breath coming out in a frantic near sob as his emotion took over. He was filled with a fever, his eyes tinged pink beneath the red hues.

‘I want that world with you. That sweet, simple domesticity. To sit beneath the sun.’

As he held you taut to the tree trunk he began unintentionally oozing web from his forelegs, his pedipalps sticking you to place. You were stuck between his huge, muscled form, his sweaty skin sticking to your own, and the hard tree at your back.

‘Miggy’ you whimpered. Your eyes rolled as he pushed closer, whispering those sweet words as he stuck you to him, possessively trapping you in his web.

‘I want you’ he groaned, ‘and I don’t care if we’re a universe apart. I’ll do anything to right that wrong. ANYTHING. Because you were made for me.’

‘Miggy…’

Your eyelids drooped as he moved closer. You felt the deeply arousing sensation of his slit separating, as his erect cock pushed out and sprung to its fullest length, gently twitching between your thighs. You willingly parted them.

‘I... I want you too, Miggy’ you whined.

You felt him pushing in as he whispered, his soft little abdomen arching and bucking to push his thick, throbbing erection between your plush thighs, nudging at your entrance. You saw his eyes get darker as he pumped that warm, velvety round tip inside, feeling the hot, heavy warmth surrounding him, feeling your body give way to his persistence.

‘I... I want to us. A unit. A-A family…’

He pushed deeper, feeling the soft muscle split, feeling your breath catch as he entered. His clawed fingers wound themselves into your hair as he gasped. He held you as close as he could while his spider body bristled and vibrated, slowly but surely committing to the mating.

‘Quiero hacerte mia, arañita, mi arañita, y quiero que me hagas tuyo’ he softly whispered right into your ear, his breath stirring the nerves there until your spine arched.

You cried out without thinking, unable to resist any longer.

‘F-Fucckkk- I love you, Mig, I-I love you—’

He pushed in until he could fit no more, leaving you bound and stuffed with his thick phallus. The sensation forced you to cry out those last words.

He paused there, strangely, pulling back to let his eyes roam. You couldn’t help but flush as he gently shifted his abdomen, watching the base of his cock appear and then disappear back inside you.

You oomphed at the pressure. No matter how often you did this, it was still a shock.

He had a look of deep, absolute satisfaction on his face. When he moved it again, just by an inch, admiring the bulge in your belly, he looked… affectionate.

‘Mmm…’

He looked back up, his claws stroking and admiring every inch of you. He gently brushed over your folds, your clit, admiring the way you squeaked. He loved that sound. He stroked up over your hips, feeling the fat and muscles between his fingers. He loved that feeling. He brushed up your waist, your chest, to your face, until your glazed-over eyes met his.

‘I love you too, mi arañita’ he whispered with utmost affection.

His eyes softened as he held your gaze. He wanted you to look at him, that monstrous mutant, the man who valued you above all else, as he began this ritual all over again.

‘I will have you now, mi amor’ he purred softly, his shoulder muscles rippling as he rolled them. ‘And I will have you, forever.’

With a soft growl, he started to slowly move in and out. You couldn’t stop the moan that flew from your lips, echoing through the open forest. Mig didn’t seem to care.

The squelch was unbearably lewd this time, the thick, wet sound of his plush cock squishing up to kiss your cervix and then back down again.

You were used to him going into a kind of haze, where he’d thrust and pump himself in an almost animalistic sense and then shower you with affection, but this was different.

He was so attentive this time. He kissed your forehead, your nose, and your lips, smothering you in gentle pecks and breathy little kisses, and his hands squeezed and soothed you as he moved. He let you taste his hot breath as he panted in time with each thrust.

‘Mi, amor… mi amor, mi arañita…’

As he got faster, he started to part his lips, tenderly pulling you into a deeper kiss.

You could feel his abdomen brushing your spread legs as he started to fuck faster, harder, his lips warm but rough on your own. It was like he wanted to eat you up then and there.

You squeaked as his lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. He was ravenous, licking your teeth and your tongue and your gums. Every time he pulled back there was a string of alive between you, one that he licked into his mouth before kissing you again.

‘More… m-more…’

He whined pathetically despite his size, his domineering strength, as he begged for more of you. Your spit, your slick, your sweat, he wanted every inch. You were his.

‘Mi arañita…’

He pulled back from the kiss just to roughly bite and kiss your neck, showering you in soft little puncture wounds from your jaw to your collarbones. When you tried to kiss back he reared up and hissed against your cheek, his possessive flare showing once more. You moaned and backed down.

‘Mine… m-mine…’

His words got less coherent as he hissed, making you stare into his eyes as he mated with you. He even leaned in to kiss you with his eyes open, kissing your lower lip and then your upper lip all while forcing you to watch him moving, fucking, pulsing.

His affection and instinct turned nuclear as he got rougher, faster.

All he could think about was seeing you here, in his den, safe and warm and smiling. He wanted to wake up beside you, he wanted to bring you little treats every day, he wanted to watch you-

He wanted to watch you get full, swollen, and heavy with his offspring. He wanted those little eggs, he wanted to watch them hatch, he wanted to watch you carefully cupping his little baby the way you held Gabriel’s.

Part of him was almost jealous. He couldn’t stand seeing you hold anything but his child, the one he made with you, the one with your eyes and his fangs. The one he put inside you.

He wanted you filled with his seed, filled with his eggs. No more waiting. No more. His instincts were killing him. You were his mate, his MATE.

‘Uh- uh- uh- UH—’

He kept kissing even as he bucked inside you, now moving with such fever that your teeth kept clacking and smashing as he wound his tongue around yours.

He kissed until all you could taste was his mouth, all you could feel was his sweaty, tensed abs imprinted on your belly, and his claws on your hips. You felt your skin separate and then stick together once more with each passionate thrust, each slippery probe into your cunt.

He was whining as he got close.

Out of nowhere he suddenly switched from domineering to pleading, pressing his face against your cheek to nestle your noses and foreheads together while his abdomen flexed.

‘Please, please, please, please, pleassee, pleaseee’ he whined. You felt his cheekbones nearly cutting you as he panted against your lips.

‘Please, please, please’ he continued, his voice getting breathy with each one. You felt him grunt as he squirted a little pre-cum inside you, and his whining got faster. ‘Please, please, PLEASE, please—’

‘Shh, sh- a-ahh- shh, Miggy, you can have it’ you whimpered back.

His claws hands moved up to your waist as he held you still, his eyes now closed as he felt you against him.

‘Mine… Mine, mine, mine’ he whimpered. He pulled back from the kiss just to hiss, torn between his desire and his instinct. His eyes were blazing, his eyes dilated like a cat.

‘Mine… M-Mine, mine- my mate, l-let me mate you, let me- let me breed you, arañita, with my seed, let me breed you, my love.’

You were clawing at his back just to get some sense of stability, your body squirming as you cried. There was a sharp numbness in your hips now, as the weight of his abdomen hit you, but inside you were burning up. Every muscle was tired from tensing, your head was light and dizzy with pleasure, and you could feel the inescapable end approaching.

‘Let me breed me. I-I want you, stuffed with my eggs, swollen with them, c-caring them for me, because you’re mine, you’re MINE, YOU’RE MINE!’

‘I-I’m yours- I’m yours, Mig- ah—’

You could barely get the words out as you drooled everywhere. You felt him pulse deep inside you, that filthy, plush cock trying to impregnate you with all its power. He hissed again, his fangs dripping venom onto your skin.

‘Mine- mine- MINE- M- AHH!’

He shuddered fully as he finally tipped. He felt the undeniable urge to ejaculate, and without thinking he instinctually pulled you into an embrace.

He hugged you up against that tree, pinning you with his full body weight, and he felt you against him as his cock began pulsing that thick seed inside you. He barely moved, just giving the faintest little pulses with his abdomen to get it as deep as he could, because all he wanted was to feel it.

He nestled into your hair and breathed in your scent as he felt every second of his own ejaculation, every little inch of cum being pumped up and then exploding out into your already cramped pussy, and he made sure you felt it too.

This was his claim. His final claim.

When the last of it was spent from his reserves, he continued to hold you close, kissing your forehead and stroking down your waist He was exhausted but overjoyed, while you were barely coherent. All you could feel was that thick, sticky feed dripping down your thigh and bulging your belly up, leaving you utterly stuffed with his genes.

‘I love you’ Mig whispered tenderly, refusing to show how exhausted he was. ‘I love you, arañita. I love you.’

You let out a soft wheeze of a whine as you slowly, shakily, hugged him back.

‘I love you too, Mig’ you wheezed.

You felt him do that little wiggle of joy, but you also felt something warm hit your forehead. When you glanced up, you realized… he was crying.

It was only one or two tears, but they’d fallen from his thick jaw to your head. He gripped you tighter.

‘Mi amor… I swear. No matter what, no matter the cost, I will find a way for us to be together’ he vowed in that moment, still quietly trapped with your bodies intertwined and impaled, and he meant it.

He would finish the solution to overcoming your multiverse differences no matter the cost. You were his light, his joy. He had tasted love and he would not go back again. 

‘I swear it. I swear. You will be mine, no matter what…’

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut #arachnophilia #miguel o'hara smut #drider #drider miguel o'hara #monster human relationship

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore

Word Count: 5550

Notes: This took me a bit longer to write than I anticipated but I wanted to make sure not to forget any details. Hope you enjoy!

Part 5

The sun was already shining high in the sky when you finally stepped out of the dungeon. Feyre had arrived with Cassian and Amren a few minutes earlier, ordering her mate, you and Azriel to go and get some rest while they took over for a few hours. Rhysand could only use his daemati powers for so long and the strain was starting to become visible on his face, so she likely could feel his fatigue through their mating bond. His efforts were starting to be in vain anyway, you needed to wear Norris down a lot more physically before his mental walls would start giving in.

You didn't want to leave at first, completely unwilling to take your eyes off Norris for even a second, but both you and Azriel had been forced to go take a bath and eat something, maybe even get some sleep and only come back later in the day. Logically this made perfect sense, but you'd rather stay with him until he told you everything you wanted to know. You believe them all to be more than capable of handling this but you also know Norris, if anyone could find a way to escape from the Night Court's dungeons it would be him.

Still, you knew it was going to take a lot longer than a few hours to crack Norris so you needed to keep your strength, you wouldn't be any help at all if you exhausted yourself. Apparently the same wards around your memories were also present in Norris' mind, meaning Rhysand was only able to knock him out in the forest but not read through his thoughts, the same way he wasn't able to reach your memories before. This meant he was the one in control of said wards, both his and yours. Amren was quick to explain that since they had been done with the help of a witch's tool, he had to have it with him to keep up his wards since it wasn't his own magic that was keeping them in place.

It also explains why he risked becoming your handler even though letting you know him could lead to this exact outcome. He needed to strengthen your wards every once in a while to make sure no memory slipped through them. Unfortunately, even without his checkups the wards were strong enough that simply time wouldn't give your memories back in full, at best only letting you see some fragments. There was also no way of knowing what they could do to your mind when left unattended so your only option was to keep pushing him until he told you everything you needed to know.

The tool he used couldn't be far, he either had it on his person or hid it somewhere close before meeting you in the forest. You've searched through his belongings more than once, as did everyone present in the cell, including Azriel's shadows, but came up empty. He likely had a powerful glamour cast on it, one you had to make him break. Getting your hands on that tool meant you could break both the wards around his mind, which would grant Rhysand access to any and every piece of information he wanted, and the wards keeping your memories hidden inside you. One simple object could set you free.

Azriel winnowed you to the middle of the mountains surrounding Velaris, right behind the House of Wind, making sure no one in the city could see your bodies drenched in blood but unable to winnow you straight home. Having a house protected by wards that didn't allow for any winnowing, even by its inhabitants, was really good in theory, you've never seen a safer place really, but in practice having to fly up every time was more than annoying, especially when you don't have wings of your own.

The air was strangely awkward around the two of you since you hadn't spoken a word to each other after the short argument in the forest. Most of your annoyance had worn off at this point, got redirected at your smug handler chained up in the dungeon, but you still wanted him to be the one to come to you and explain himself. His attitude earlier had seemed completely different from everything you'd experienced until then, you know there's a reason for it but you're too prideful to ask him about it.

The only plausible reason you could think of is that he's been using you to get to an assassin with a higher up position in the guild, but something told you immediately that wasn't the case, it seems like a part of you balked at the thought that he'd betray you like this. Even putting your annoying phantom feelings aside, it didn't make sense considering the High Lord has followed his word on letting you help in interrogating Norris. Your mind was fresh out of ideas, and much too tired to analyze that small argument. He'll tell you what happened eventually, and if he doesn't… Well, then it's a good thing you didn't get your hopes up even more.

“I'll fly you up to the House,” his voice was scratchy from not being used in so long, making it deeper as he almost whispered beside you, not wanting to disturb the quietness in the mountain. Azriel had done most of the cutting and breaking but he hadn't even asked Norris any questions, content in letting you and Rhysand take over the interrogation while he carved out Norris' skin. You can't be sure if it was because of your fight or just the grueling last few hours but he didn't seem to be in the best mood anyway.

You nod up at him, simply walking closer and letting him pick you up into his warm embrace, strong hands careful as they handle your body. You've only flown once - from what you can remember at least, you can't imagine a version of yourself who wouldn't ask her husband to take her flying regularly if he had wings - and, given the circumstances, you didn't really have the chance to stop and truly enjoy the moment. It would be the same now, even worse given the fact that you'd rather not deal with the shadowsinger, but the breeze hitting against your tired body sounded heavenly, and so did the big bathtub and soft mattress waiting for you up in your room. There was also no energy left in your body to even try to argue with him, if there was you would have been using it on your handler.

His body relaxes slightly when you simply slip your arms around his neck, his wings stretching and flapping a couple of times as he got ready to take flight. He looked like he was expecting you to refuse, as if there was any other way to the House besides flying and he wasn't the only Illyrian here.

The actual flight doesn't take long, within a few moments Azriel is gently setting you down back on your feet at the top of the stairs, hands lingering on your body as if moving on their own, a habit he can't quite break himself out of. You meet his eyes, briefly wondering if you should say something, debating if you have enough patience in yourself to extend a small olive branch to the male who is covered in the blood of your enemy.

He beats you to it, looking down before speaking as if he couldn't hold your gaze for top long - yet another way he's acting out of character. “You're free to do what you want. I'll meet you in your room and fly you back to the dungeon when it's time. I won't bother you before that.” The professional, detached tone in his voice makes your annoyance want to rise up but you swallow it down, realizing how tired you really were as soon as you had stepped foot inside the house.

“Alright,” you tell him before turning around and walking straight to your room, never looking back to see his reaction or the way regret flashes in his eyes as he watches your every step away from him.

Azriel stayed true to his word, only coming to check in on you right before it was time to return. You can't even be sure if he stayed in his room the whole time, if he truly spent these few hours resting as he was ordered since there was no sound coming from his room or around the house at all. Curiosity had gotten the best of you a couple of hours ago, when you woke up from your nap feeling strangely alone, like a piece of you was begging to go find him. This feeling was clutching at your heart for long enough that you actually considered going to find Azriel, but held on since you didn't fully know your way around the house and you had no idea where he could be. You didn't really know what to say either.

Luckily it wasn't long until you heard his footsteps getting closer to your room before a soft knock sounded at the door. He always does this, makes sure to let himself be heard before knocking. Sitting up at the edge of the mattress, you call out to him, wondering if he'll tell you anything now or simply fly you back to the cells.

As soon as his form comes into view you can tell he hasn't slept much if anything at all, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He's at least taken a bath, the sullied leathers were now replaced with new ones, the stench of blood not clinging to him anymore. You're wearing some yourself, your old ones as you've been told. Your clothes were ruined and putting them back on would defeat the purpose of the bath you took earlier, but it feels weird to wear a version of what you always see Azriel and his family in. He takes notice of this as well, hazel eyes raking over your form, lingering around your waist long enough for you to start feeling self conscious, standing up and taking a step closer to him almost involuntarily.

“Is anything wrong? I thought you left them for me to wear.” Since he had given you the leathers along with your old belongings you had assumed you were allowed to wear them, but, at this point, these clothes were more his than yours. Maybe he was scared you'd ruin them and he'd lose his memories of you.

“No, that's not it. They're yours,” he assures quickly, eyes widening slightly before a conflicted expression takes over his face. “The buckles are done wrong,” his observation makes you look down at yourself, there were more straps and buckles than necessary for any piece of garment and you'd taken a bit longer to figure it out than you cared to admit, apparently you should have taken even longer.

Your fingers reach for the straps around your waist, tugging at the leather before he continues, “I can help you with them. They can be hard to put on if you're not used to it.” When you look up from the confusing clothes and your eyes move to meet his, you find him watching your hands hesitantly, his own flexing at his sides. You end up agreeing without even thinking it through, something you almost regret when he walks closer to you and suddenly all you can see and smell is Azriel.

He looks into your eyes before reaching out to the buckles around your waist slowly, giving you a chance to push him away, almost expecting you to. You drop your hands at your sides awkwardly, not knowing what to do with them or yourself when he starts working on your leathers. Expert fingers undo the buckle before pulling on the straps, unexpectedly tightening your armor in the process which pulls a startled gasp out of you. His hands move to grab your waist, surprised by your reaction. Wide hazel eyes meet yours at the sound, a heat spreading within them the longer he holds your gaze, hands frozen around your waist.

All your senses are overwhelmed with him so close, staring down at you like that. The only thing you can think of is the kiss you shared a few nights ago, your entire body begging to repeat the action as he looks down at you with the same passionate look he had worn then. He seems to be reminded of the same, perhaps of similar moments from your previous life, even more scandalous ones surely.

Thankfully, some of your common sense finds you before you could do something stupid like pull him down to you and taste him again, the thought making you look away from him and clear your throat, hoping he breaks from the spell and lets you pretend it didn't happen. This prompts him to keep buckling the leathers, with an urgency he didn't have before, and you look down with him, following his movements even though your mind isn't actually registering any of them as you try to calm your breathing and not think of the way his hands feel around your waist. You'll likely need his help fastening everything tomorrow as well.

“These are meant to cross so the leathers are molded to your body and there are no openings,” he tries to explain as he finishes and moves back, but you can tell he's as affected by your little moment as you were.

You nod at him, “There were a lot of straps, I wasn't sure which ones belonged where. Some of them don't even look like they have a purpose,” you finish as you play with the straps around your wrists, the ones you really couldn't figure out.

“Those are for your gloves,” he explains, a somewhat endeared look crossing his face. “I didn't think you'd need them but you can put them on. Though I'm not sure how they will behave with your powers now.”

“Did I not have these powers before?” You hadn't thought of the possibility but if the spell could erase your memories maybe Norris could have found a way to give or take powers. Just the thought of it brings a chill down your spine.

“You did, but you've gotten a lot stronger,” there was a hint of pride in his words, though the somber meaning hung between you. No matter how hard you practiced and how well they could have trained you here, the results wouldn't be as fast or maybe as clean as the ones resulting from the guild's harsh training. The guild had no problem pushing you past your limits, you either adapted and got stronger or you'd die and be replaced. You suppose you never had to use your powers to torture people before either.

“When this all ends we could spar together,” you sound hesitant even to your own ears, “Maybe I'm even stronger than you by now.” You haven't talked about what will happen after all of this, you can't know for sure what you'll want to do when you recover your memories. You also keenly aware you had just been telling yourself you wouldn't make it easy on him, but ended up seconds away from kissing him and inviting him to spar with you as soon as you saw him.

“I'd like that,” he nods, a reddish tint rushing to his ears. He makes it unbearably hard to even remember why you were upset with him in the first place. It takes everything in you not to lean into his genuineness and forget it ever happened. You bite your lip and give him a small nod of your own, “Are you ready then? We should go.”

“I wanted to talk to you before we left,” his voice takes on a serious tone, regret peeking through every word.

“Maybe this is not the right time. They're probably waiting for us,” you offered, not really sure how to go about having this conversation after what had just happened, even if the curiosity was killing you. It was clear you couldn't keep a level head when it came to Azriel.

“No, I can't…” he cuts himself off, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, a heavy sound coming from deep in his chest as if he’s been pushing it down for a long time. He looks scared somehow, his wings pulling in tighter to his body and his shadows crawling up his shoulders as if comforting, or even encouraging him. You let him find his composure, find the right words to explain the situation. This feels bigger than a silly argument when adrenaline was pumping through both your veins and that gnawing feeling in your chest comes back, getting stronger with every breath, making you think this might be something he's carried on from the time you were still married.

Azriel opens his eyes after a few moments, the emotions swirling in them enough to make you breathless, and reaches his hand out to yours, waiting for you to accept it and then squeezing it tight as if he needs the reminder that you're real.

“I need you to know I wasn't trying to keep any secrets from you or order you around as you said,” he starts lowly, shiny hazel eyes alternating between watching your hands clasped together and staring deep into your eyes, “We've had this conversation many times before. I know you don't remember but I need you to know I never meant to make you think I want to have any sort of power over you.” He brings your hand up to his chest then, spreading your palm right over his beating heart as he continues, eyes never straying from yours, “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you want to be there when Norris tells you everything. I wasn't trying to keep you away from the dungeon because I didn't think you could handle it.”

“Then why?” Your voice is but a whisper, not wanting to disturb the vulnerable moment.

“I never let you see me down there before, know the monster I have to become. You tried, many times, but I never allowed it. I've always been too afraid of what your reaction would be,” he presses his hand down on yours a little harder as his heart beat picks up, “It would kill me if you were ever scared of me, if you couldn't love me anymore after learning who I am. I was so scared of losing you. Scared that you would ever look at me with fear in your eyes instead of love.”

You let your gaze fall to the way he presses his and your hand to his chest, letting his heartbeat lead yours. It takes a moment for you to process his admission. From what he told you before you thought you had been open with each other throughout your marriage, but it seems there were parts of him he kept hidden even from you, especially from you.

Moments like these always leave you in a weird position. You can't speak for the old version of you, as much as you want to believe that you wouldn't leave him, would never feel scared of him, when your love for him transcended your memories as if it was written down into your bones, the truth is you don't remember her at all. Maybe she would have been scared, maybe his worries hadn't been completely unwarranted then. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You turn your hand around, your palm no longer pressed against his chest in favor of holding onto his hand, your other hand joining in as you massage the rough skin and let them fall between you two, needing something familiar to ground yourself while you think of what to say. You twist his wedding ring around his finger once, closing your eyes at the tremble that runs through him at the motion, the way even his wings droop to the floor. The fact that he lets you touch him like this makes things so much harder sometimes.

“I've seen a lot of monsters. You're not one of them, Azriel. Far from it,” you start carefully, “and… I'm not sure how I was like before, if seeing you down there would have really been too much for me to handle but if I truly loved you like I think I did, then I know it wouldn't have mattered. There's nothing about you I see as unlovable.”

“Loved,” a broken mumble between you, not a question. This makes you look up at him. You want to deny it, tell him you still love him, but you can't make sense of the feelings inside you, can't say for sure what will happen to them when you regain your memories. Most of all, you don't want to hurt him, give him hope when he already lost so much, when you already hurt him so much.

You drop his hand, taking a small step back. “I'm not the same person you used to know, and recovering my memories might not bring her back either. Most of what's left is just my body.”

“It doesn't matter,” he says so matter-of-factly it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Azriel-”

“No,” he brings both of his hands to hold onto your face gently, giving you no option but to look into his eyes, “I love you. That didn't change when you died or over the century that followed, when I didn't think I would ever see you again. It didn't change when I saw you in the townhouse or even when you stabbed me. And it won't change whether you get your memories back or not, if you choose to stay or not.”

“I don't love you,” the words stumble out desperately, tears gathering in your eyes, “I don't even remember you, Azriel.”

“That doesn't change it either,” he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek softly. You know he means it then, know there's no way to change his mind even if for his own good. You can only pray to the Mother that your memories don't give you any unpleasant surprises. You're trying so hard to keep his heart safe, why must he keep offering to rip it out of his chest for you?

His expression changes abruptly as you're lost in thought and soon after you feel a presence in your mind before Rhysand's voice comes through. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Azriel's hands drop from your face then, a scowl overcoming his features. You can only imagine the words he's throwing at his brother in his mind, but Rhysand's voice returns, noticeably more amused, Our break is over. It's time to meet them back at the dungeon. I take it you'll fly our captive back? The answering growl that comes from the shadowsinger actually makes you hide a chuckle behind your hand. His gaze softening once again when he notices the gesture.

Despite the timing and the way he insisted on addressing you as “captive” to rile Azriel up, you could actually thank Rhysand for breaking you away from the moment. He's right, you've rested more than enough and it's now time to go back and finish what you started. You only have the luxury of dealing with your marriage after Norris is gone and you could actually remember your husband.

The flight to the dungeon is a lot easier this time as your prior annoyance was replaced with strangely welcomed awkwardness and a tinge of bashfulness. As much as you tried to deny it, you can't pretend Azriel's admission hadn't made your heart want to leap out of your chest. You don't think anyone could have remained impartial to such a confession, especially coming from a male like Azriel, but as soon as you step into the dungeon, you feel yourself morph back into the cold assassin. You could even feel Azriel's mask fall over his face as well, ready to resume what you'd started before.

This same routine is repeated for a few days, slowly but surely wearing the formidable assassin down. It wouldn't be long until Rhysand or Feyre could read through his mind completely even if he didn't willingly tell you anything. This sentiment was felt among all of you, it's like you could all taste how close he was to breaking.

You came back from one of your mandatory breaks to see Cassian leaning by the cell door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at your prisoner as Amren stood in the middle of the cell covered in blood, a wicked grin on her face as Norris looked the most unsettled you'd ever seen him. She was told to hold back in the first days but since Norris insists on resisting, Rhysand had allowed her to toy with him. You truly hope you never cross her, just the thought of the things she could do makes every hair on your body stand.

Everyone stays in the room this time, knowing it's only a matter of time. Azriel takes over once more, every slash of his knife meant to give Norris unimaginable pain, completely focused on making the short remaining of his life as miserable as he can.

The difference between the male who had confessed his undying love to you, held your hand as if you were the most precious thing in this world, and the one expertly carving out your former handler's body was almost unbelievable. Azriel's face showed nothing but anger, and even then you knew it wasn't even a quarter of the seething fury burning inside of him. This wasn't your doting husband, this was the Spymaster.

You feel Rhysand's dramatic show of power before you see him walk into the cell, hands in pockets as if he was walking into his kitchen instead of a seedy dungeon reeking of blood and sweat. He passes by you and joins Azriel in tormenting Norris, letting sharp black talons run across the mental walls he's been so desperate to maintain. The smirk on his mate's face, who leans against the table calmly by your side, tells you they might even be teaming up on him.

Fatigue was starting to eat away at everyone the longer you spent inside the windowless cell, but, as Norris smirks lessened and his bared teeth stopped being enough to hide the obvious grunts of pain, his skin paling considerably as his blood pooled at his feet, it was clear that you were on the right track, only needed to keep pushing.

Your handler had started answering more questions too, if only to keep you distracted and away from any blades long enough. It's hard to believe that the male you've been frightened of for a century is the same one chained in front of you. If it weren't for the stubbornness and the pride he's managed to keep somehow, you wouldn't have believed it at all.

“This whole mission was a gamble. We couldn't know for sure if they'd written you off their wards even if they thought you were dead. When you walked in so easily I thought it would be a piece of cake from there. Seems I was wrong.” You had guessed as much. At the time, being sent to an unknown place on such short notice seemed strange and sloppy for how usually crafted the guild's plans were, but knowing what you do now, it makes sense. Not only were you written into the wards as he said, but if it hadn't been for the strange nostalgic feelings inside you, Azriel would have let you escape, you would have even killed him to do so.

“The spell should have sealed your memories and feelings tight,” Norris continues as if sensing your thoughts, “I'm not sure what is trying so hard to claw its way out from behind those walls.” He tilts his head to the side and pauses as if he found the answer and that self-assured smirk reappears on his lips. The sight makes your skin crawl, your powers reacting with you and sending an icy chill into the room. Temperature dropping as his smirk only widens even more and Azriel looks at you with a worried expression before catching himself. “Maybe I just messed up the spell,” he dismisses.

“What do you mean?”

“It is a tricky spell,” he shrugs nonchalantly, knowing that's not what you asked. Azriel moves before you, Truth Teller slashing across his skin for the millionth time, but Norris seems intent on keeping at least this last piece of information to himself. There's more to this, you know there is, but the interrogation moves on to matters of the guild. Rhysand is still worried that they will come for you now that you've deserted, and that they will bring harm to his beloved court.

Within the next few hours, Norris' healing stops being able to keep up with his injuries, even his voice losing strength. It seems like he was focusing the remaining of his energy on keeping his mental walls safe, but it's not long until you see Rhysand's smirk grow, a satisfied wicked thing on his face.

You watch as Norris' head goes limp, unfocused eyes dropping to the ground as the High Lord searches through his mind, probably making it as unpleasant as he possibly can. Your heart starts beating faster in your chest, anxiety building up at the thought that this could have all been for nothing, that Norris might not have the answer after all. You feel a hand on your shoulder but don't even have the mind to look back and check who is trying to comfort you.

When he finally steps back, he simply gives you a nod and a breath of relief escapes you as you stare back into Norris' eyes. You watch Azriel and Rhysand share a look in the corner of your eye, never daring to look away from Norris' defeated face. Within moments everyone starts clearing out of the cell in silence, leaving you and your shadowsinger standing over the prisoner.

It's only when Azriel's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it to get your attention that you look away. His eyes don't give away much and he doesn't say the words, but as he places Truth Teller in the palm of your hand, you know exactly what he means. He nods at you once and drops your hand, taking a step back and giving you space.

You look down at the dagger in your hands, the same one you had held to wound the male who now handed it to you, the one you'll now use to set yourself free. Describing the feeling running through your body is impossible, you always thought you'd die in the guild, as an assassin. Never even dared to think you could be more, never thought it would be possible to get out alive and find a life for yourself. You thought you'd be scared at the prospect but you can only feel excitement and relief.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you walk to Norris and pull on his hair to lift your face to his, so he can see all the hate and anger in your gaze before you stab the knife through his right eye slowly, making sure to get it through his brain, deep enough that no amount of healing or any trick he might have had up his sleeve would be able to save him, and twisting it around. You don't move for a few moments, listening for his heartbeat and paying attention to the blood seeping out of the wound. It's only when you're sure he's dead, that his heart is completely quiet and enough blood has poured out, that you pull the knife out with a squelching sound, flicking it down to get rid of most of the blood and any pieces of flesh stuck to it.

You hesitate for a moment before turning back, meeting Azriel's eyes. As much as you'd told him there was no need for him to worry of your opinion of him changing after witnessing what he did to Norris, of ever being afraid of him, you had hypocritically been scared of letting him see you like this, of seeing the cold blooded killer you had become, so far detached from the wife in his memories.

All your worries are proven baseless however. The only thing you can distinguish in his eyes is relief, at having the answer to getting your memories back and having the person responsible for your pain killed. You can't help the smile growing on your face, not caring for how it must look against the blood covering most of your body, and wrap your arms around Azriel's neck, pulling him down into a hug as a sigh of relief escapes you, tears rising to your eyes and flowing down your cheeks. His arms come around you immediately, tightening his grip on you and burying his face in your neck, tears of his own wetting your skin.

You're finally free.

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel angst

[elementroar]

Question about Paracelsus, does he actually like aba? I’m guessing in the older game, he mostly tolerated her because she can fight (except for the fact he deliberately chooses not to control her) but in the new one, I’m pretty much confused. When he ends his transformation, He says “That’s my answer, ABA, As your partner.” Problem is that I have no idea which meaning of “partner” he meant. It could be just fighting partners but him having a whole emotional speech and transformation for a “business partner.” If I try to look at the view of actually going for ABA’s dreams for marriage, it feels incomplete and odd because she is slowly transforming him into what she sees fit. Please I really want to know what he meant!

Side note: ABA’s feelings of jealousy and abandonment are completely valid as Paracelsus has done that! To her face! WITH A RANDOM STRANGER TO HER!!! In night of knives volume 2.

Life partner, since Paracelsus no longer really wants to fight on principle, so 'fighting partner' like he used to regard A.B.A as and originally hoped she would regard him as, that's out of the window. So if he's still resolving to stay with her, it's as a life partner. The extent of what that means to him is prolly different from A.B.A, but that can evolve over time.

Because Paracelsus, as he has stated, is an axe. He understands relationships in axe terms, which is he acknowledges his wielder (which he did acknowledge A.B.A as at the end of Night of Knives) and he kills other people that threaten them. His whole situation-ship with A.B.A has forced him to be involved in roles he was never equipped to deal with and was forced to adapt to - being an emotional support, being an actual object of attraction, having to constantly protect his wielder from herself, having to be a counsel on social norms that he shouldn't know all that well to begin with as an axe but he's expected to, having to communicate on behalf of his wielder to navigate social situations and dispel conflict - quite literally none of these are on the checklist of 'being an axe that kills people real good.

Yeah he wanted to leave A.B.A in NoK, and honestly who wouldn't? From his perspective, she was hellbent on not treating him as the weapon he wanted her to treat him as. She was figuratively and literally emotion dumping on him constantly, what with the empathetic bond prolly not helping matters. And he kept trying to dispel every delusion and assumption she had about their relationship constantly. As he was being sexually harassed despite his protests and mid-battle, constantly.

But even back then, Slayer implied that Paracelsus never hated A.B.A personally, but her constant advances, the situations they got into, it was all frustrating to him when he really wanted to be 'just a weapon' back then.

We kinda skipped Paracelsus character development up till STRIVE but IMO, I think he figured out he had to be proactive with A.B.A, cause sticking with his "I'm a weapon, and only a weapon" principles wasn't helping. He accepted that he needed to be the responsible one of the two, that he had to kick his blood habit because it made him lose control and also got them into fights etc. He accepted that he had to change for the sake of A.B.A.

Thinking about marriage for them is kinda falling into the trap that A.B.A fell into IMO. Her theme hints that being bound by specific definitions of words or expectations may have prevented her and them from organically growing their relationship, whatever it can or would be.

Part of her major development is that she acknowledges she's been obsessed with the idea of love, but not actually truly understanding what it is. Her obsession with Paracelsus is more of her playing the part rather than understanding the feeling. Part of her growth was choosing to let go of Paracelsus for his own good, and in fact it was an expression of true love, even though she didn't realize it. Paracelsus is also learning about love and Elphelt suggested that looking out for someone is in fact a form of love, and that surprised him. He didn't seem to realize that the steps he's taken to take care of A.B.A are expressions of love themselves either.

As Paracelsus explained to A.B.A, he's not sure where their relationship will go or what the future holds for them. How their feelings will develop is still up in the air, but he tries to show A.B.A that if he could change so much, then she can too. The idea is that they're finally free to be whatever they're going to be, and they're choosing to stick together to that end, and that's the most important thing.

#my reply #long post is long #a.b.a guilty gear #paracelsus guilty gear #guilty gear strive

[lightlycareless]

omgggg, that Toji x reader (*plus* Naoya) was incredibleee, ignore me if you want, I know you made Toji chosing to keep distance from reader and Megumi permanently BUT what if one day he ends up finally seeing Megumi, either personally or by pictures/videos 🥺 We know Megumi it's the spitted image of him, I mean, Gojo's face when he saw him for the first time said it all 😅 And also knowing his baby has the Ten Shadows technique (I cant stop thinking about how proud he was in the canon manga/anime 🥺 he always KNEW from the start Megumi was blessed/gifted, since his first breath, the fact Toji named him is not random) making the entire Zenin clan eat their shit

Heya anon!!

I'm so glad you liked it heheheheheheh a oneshot that I didn't intend to write but it just happened!! aren't we glad it did? lol

I didn't mean to ignore you, I was only focusing on other things first 😅 oof, I still have lots of request to go through, which I plan to do it slowly but surely...

Anyways, I might've not gone down that route, however... why not something angsty? I mean 😏I've had this in my mind so... yeah 😏😏😏😏😏😏😏

Warnings: mentions of infidelity. Pregnancy. Naoya is, unfortunately, a prick. this is the oneshot anon is talking about. 100% read that first hehe. this is an AU from that, so the second part doesn't count??? I guess. excuse the proofreading. also I haven't written toji that much so please excuse my oocness as well ahahahahha :')

Happy reading!

As much as the three hoped to ignore the bases of your pregnancy, behave as it didn’t rise from an adulterous act, a direct transgression to the principles of the Zen’in, and keep it a secret, it wouldn’t take long before the guilt in each other’s mind began to weight heavy on their mind, ultimately betraying them and revealing the truth to the light, excusing the angered elders to finally get rid of two birds with one stone.

“Where—Where does this accusation even come from?!” You gasp, blood turning cold at the implication—at the notion of the truth. “Do you know the gravity of such words?!”

“Better than you of the act, it seems.” Another accuses. “We were quite aware of the rumors surrounding your ill-fitting behavior, but we never believed it would actually extend to this point!”

“I—I won’t tolerate neither of you disrespecting me!” you cry. “Nor will Naoya for that matter!”

But calling for his aid would no longer prove sufficient, for Naoya, too deep in his own insecurities by that point, had come to the disheartening conclusion that this situation had gotten way out of hand for a simple diversion.

A supposed act of mercy.

He shouldn’t have let this happen in the first place, should’ve respected what you and your marriage represented, what meant to him, and discard his pity for Toji—the man has been alone most of his life, what difference would that make that now?

But he didn’t, he allowed you to go to Toji—no, he handed you over to him, thinking he was doing something right for his cousin, or perhaps something deep inside him was allured by the sick idea of you being with another man and now, he was suffering the consequences.

Consequences he did not like, not one bit—because it got too real for him: you were now pregnant, with Toji’s child, and not his.

And this only highlighted what he considered the pitfalls of this relationship, a strike against his ego and the supposed inability to beget children, a rumor that grew bigger and bigger by each passing day, spreading like wildfire to the point where even outsiders became aware of it.

Which, for a prideful man like Naoya, was only a nightmare.

He loved you, he really did—Naoya never envisioned spending the rest of his life with anyone else…

But he loved his pride more, and when his clan began to actively confront him about it, he couldn’t take it anymore.

And thus….

“…Naoya?”

“This marriage was broken before it even started.” Your husband would say, unexpected words that pierced straight to your heart. “My family advised me well in avoiding you, but I falsely believed I could achieve differently.”

“What—what are you even saying?” you breathe. “What do you mean by—by differently?”

And… where does everything you lived with him stand?

The time you spent with him, the sweet nothings he’d whisper into your ear, to love you both swore to one another, reminding each other that there was no one else that compares…

And that you were the only woman who has ever made him feel this way—loved— and would do everything in the world to make happy…

Was it… all … a lie?

All for… nothing?

Or were you the only one that actually believed the other’s words?

“I cannot look past these transgressions.” Naoya continues. “You’ve left me no choice.”

“But you—you made me do this!” you gasp. “I never—I never wanted to be with anyone else! All this time, my heart only belonged to you!  How could you—how could you abandon me after all we’ve gone through together?!”

Naoya doesn’t say anything else anymore, instead, he simply turns around, exiting the room to leave you in the hands of the vengeful elders who did not hesitate to do what they had long desired—banish you from the estate.

Swiftly yet cruelly, you wouldn’t be able to take anything with you, not even a change of clothes or even money (you didn’t even ask for much, just enough to survive the week) as you were forced to face a new life of your own—alone, pregnant.

Going back to your family was also out of the question; the shame that you’d bring upon their name was one the Zen’in didn’t not waste time to remind them of—at the end, there was only so much your father and siblings could do against the invasive ways of the elders, and perhaps, a part of them deep inside, were also disappointed that you’ve succumbed to such foul thing.

And so, you were tossed onto the street, with nothing more than the clothes you were wearing, whatever you had for savings throughout the years, managed to take it out before either clan could close your account—but most importantly, with a broken heart you believe will never heal, not after the grave wound your husband’s indifference inflicted on it.

The pain you couldn’t even mourn properly due to all the things you had to worry about now.

The first thing you did was search for a place to stay, though getting one was proving to be an almost impossible task.

Thankfully, you were allowed to keep one other thing, maybe it eluded their minds when all this was happening, but you’re not going to question why when it was going to help you pay for a roof.

Naoya’s ring, your wedding ring, was something many would consider expensive, the kind of flashiness expected from a prestigious family like the Zen’in.

You remember a time when any kind of ring would’ve been enough for you to marry him. You didn’t need anything extraordinary to commit your life and heart to him.

That’s nothing but a far cry from what you felt now.

It still hurt to pawn it, but it was the only way you could accommodate yourself and the unborn child inside you, in the only area you could afford with what you got, for even then many suspected that your ring… well, had dubious origins.

When was the last time you even had to worry about the costs of living? Food, clothes, water…?

Many years—it had to; ever since you got together with Naoya, he’s been the one that took care of you.

You just had to say the word and he’d disappear all of your worries—even from the simplest of wants, Naoya indulgingly obliged.

It was a happy life you eventually considered for your child—imagining how happy they’d grow to be without a single worry, solely focusing on what they’ll have to play that day, or how to escape their over doting parents.

A long-gone dream, tossed to the side as a nightmare quickly took its place.

…

Did Naoya ever mean the words I love you?

Or was he doing all this just to keep you there, complying, just in case someone better came along, just like his clan wished would happen?

There mere thought of his devotion being nothing but an act tightens your heart with sorrow once more, gifting you the tragic notion that perhaps, all this time, you never knew your husband…

Maybe ex-husband, by this point.

All that was left from those moments, the slightest semblance of that marriage was this baby, created from what you thought your unconditional devotion to him, turning out to be your very own downfall.

The only one that would know of these struggles would be your baby, the one to accompany you through the darkest point of your life, hopefully to a brigther dawn.

And yet… you’ve never felt so alone.

Time surprisingly, went quicker than you anticipated, though not as easy as you would’ve wanted.

Life in your new home was still very difficult to get used to, even when it’s been months since… that.

But with the job you managed to get (whatever place hired pregnant women—they’re supposed to be at home, some would say, you didn’t care.) and some extra jujutsu work you did on the side, you managed, enough to give you a, not exactly comfortable, but just enough lifestyle.

As long as you sacrificed all the things you once considered granted and turned them into luxuries: such as warm showers, take out, and the sweets you liked to indulge once in a while; your pregnancy has been horrible because of that, and that’s without considering the medical bills you’re struggling to pay as well.

But if that wasn’t enough, your noisy neighbors presented issues of their own as well.

You’re not going to deny that your presence there was like moths to a flame, starting from your somewhat suspicious acquisition—all cash—of the small house you were living in.

From there, your loneliness, alongside your pregnancy; single mothers were unheard of, or rather, highly criticized, thus, all eyes were on you, down to your smallest movement.

Yet, even then, as annoying as they were, you were ok as long as it meant you never get to see those that hurt you ever again.

However, what you want isn’t necessarily what’s going to happen, and that would be reminded of one fateful night with an unsuspecting knock, just after you were getting ready to go to bed.

It wouldn’t be the first time someone came to bother you, but it would be the first time someone did so at this hour, and with such insistence that far from worrying you, it made you angrily storm at the entrance, ready to demand who’d be so inconsiderate enough to visit you so late at night!

And you’d get your answer soon enough, in the most shocking, horrifying, if not sorrowful manner you could’ve possibly anticipated, prompting you to close the door as soon as you saw his face, or attempted to, his reflexes much faster than yours.

“Get—get away from me!” you shrieked, hands trembling as you did your best to hold the door shut against his overwhelming strength— but even your husband has admitted that in terms of power, he excels like no one else.

“Y/N—” he breathes, somewhat amused that you’d been able to hold him off as much as you could, though eventually he was able to break free from your grasp and enter your home, you step away from him soon after.

“What are you even doing here?!” you gasp. “No—that doesn’t matter! I don’t want to see you! I’m not going back!”

“I’m not here to take you back” He quickly responds, eyes falling down to your stomach, making his face soften at the subtle bump evident through your clothes—with this sight, he knows he can’t take you back.

“Then—then why are you here, Toji?”

Perhaps Toji needed to see through his own eyes, what the whispers went on about at the estate regarding your absence.

He wasn’t there when it happened, promised himself to be far away from you as soon as your pregnancy was announced to the estate.

Toji would’ve normally taken this opportunity to act on retribution against his family, rub it on their face that the future of the clan came from him, a low life.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so when you cheerfully paraded around the halls, happy to finally be forming a family with your beloved husband, even though it wasn’t of his making.

For the first time in his life, he thought himself to be too cruel for having planned such atrocities against the only person that has never been rude with him, always welcoming him with a smile on your face, or at least whatever you permitted when not following Naoya around like a lost puppy.

And the baby… well, he won’t deny that he was glad that his child would have a vastly different life from his—with you as his mother, it couldn’t be any other way.

Or so he believed.

Even when promising to keep away, he still attempted to check in on you, especially now that you were pregnant, whenever he had to go to the estate that is. That day was no be no exception, begrudgingly coming back to see what else he could scam out of his family to ensure his living outside.

Toji’s slyly scanned the hallways for your figure, the briefest indication of such, either through your giggle, staff, or even his cousin’s annoying voice—there were moments where he imagined how delightful it must’ve been to have you by his side, instead of Naoya’s; to be receiver of your laughter instead of that man who clearly didn’t deserve you.

But even if it was with him, he still found comfort in the fact that you were around, there.

Not like now, gone from Naoya’s side.

In fact, you were nowhere to be seen! Not with your staff, not eating by the gardens, or even indulging in one of your husband’s idiocies.

Nothing.

And no one had seen you either.

Or more like didn’t want to say, that much became evident when he stomped his way towards a nearby staff member, demanding your whereabouts, only to be responded with a fret falsely feigning ignorance, or foolish diplomacy.

At the prospect of your disappearance, Toji felt his blood run cold, almost like the estate lost whatever little warmth it had, worsening each time he asked another servant, and he’d get the same answer.

The implications behind your absence were growing heavier in his mind, to the point it sunk his heart to his stomach…

And propelled him to the one person who would undoubtedly know where you were.

“Naoya—Where is Y/N?!” Toji commands the moment he sees the heir, the young man instinctively flinched at the sight of his angered cousin, almost as if he knew what was running through his mind and attempted to make a run for it, only to be stopped by the collar, dead on his tracks. “Do not run away, coward! Answer me!”

“She’s—she’s not here anymore.” Is what Naoya manages to squeak, but Toji doesn’t need to be reminded the obvious.

“Where. Is. She.” He hisses, the worst of his assumptions slowly becoming a reality. “What have you done to her?!”

“What—what needed to be done!” Naoya gasps. “I—I couldn’t allow it!”

Toji doesn’t remember much after Naoya told him that the clan decided she was better off on her own—only that the heir was on the floor, bloodied and whimpering while attempting to cover his face, either trying to control the throbbing of his skin, the blood from spilling anywhere else, or perhaps even shame.

No. It couldn’t be the last. To have done something like what he did required a shameless man to do so.

Nonetheless Toji didn’t bother to find out nor to be reprimanded, quick to assert what needed to be done and heading out the estate; he couldn’t even bother cursing those that had done nothing but the worst after the worst, each time a new low, for his mind solely pertained in finding you.

It took him a while to do so, as expected, but he knew it was only a matter of asking around for a woman that simply didn’t fit to do the job—and such, here he is now.

“I want—needed to see you.” Toji takes a step closer.

“Get—get away from me.”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You were fine doing that before—what’s so different from now?” You spat.

“This is different, Y/N. You’re alone—and you need me.”

“I’m not alone—I don’t need you.” You gasp. “Get away from me or I’ll—I’ll call the police!.”

“If you don’t need me, then the baby does.”

It’s like he struck a nerve with his words, because soon after tears would begin to fall down your cheeks, revealing that the sight you attempted to portray, the strength you so fiercely put up against him, was nothing but a façade, a way to hide the fact that indeed, you needed help.

Exhausted from facing all these uncertainties on your own, afraid.

But not anymore, not when Toji was here, more than willing to step in, as seen in the way he swiftly holds you in his arms when he sees you almost faint from distress, attempting to comfort you as you continued to cry.

“Get— get away from me…!” you’d say again, still fighting against his hold. However, he doesn’t fight it, he simply allows you to vent, taking in all the pain and hatred your heart harbored from the moment you were kicked out of the estate. “Don’t touch me!”

“I’m not leaving” Toji insists, he feels you trying to squirm your way out from him, but his strength doesn’t allow it. “You can struggle all you want, but I’m not leaving you on your own—”

“What difference does it make to you? Your family abandoned me to my luck! And even forced my family to do the same!” you breathe, Toji’s eyes widen—he did not know that; his fury for the Zen’in grows, but this is not the time to deal with that. “They don’t care if I die on the street!”

“I know.” He murmurs, holding you tighter against him.

“And I—And I tried my best to—to move on, but I can’t! I can’t do it!” you sob. “I’m so alone, and scared, and—and ashamed! I don’t want to live like this anymore!! I don’t want to die!”

“…I know.”

“Why—why is this happening to me?! All I ever wanted was for—was for Naoya to love me. I never wanted anything else! I never wanted money, I never wanted to hurt anyone either! I just—I just wanted to live a happy life with him, to make him happy!

But then he—he tossed me away, at one thing he didn’t like, he acted like I didn’t even matter! He didn’t even put up a fight to defend me! he just—he just let them hurt me, like what we had was—a lie!

 Did he never—did he even love me?”

Speechless, all Toji could do is continue holding you as you kept on pouring out your feelings, hearing the heart wrenching sound of your sobs that just kept reflecting how wounded you were by Naoya’s betrayal, the transgressions of his family, and the disappointment of yours.

And all because of something you didn’t even suggest in the first place. It was him who made his way into Naoya’s mind, and eventually, it was Naoya who pushed you into it, regardless of what happened later.

He wanted to do it; you know?

He wanted to go back there and murder them for all they’d done against you.

But when he left that place one last time, he promised he would stop thinking about himself, and start doing what is right—what was needed.

If Naoya wasn’t to step up and be a man, then he would.

Toji would gladly throw away his own pride, his own anger and thirst for vengeance, just to see you safe and happy once more.

Things your husband, could simply not—but he… he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I promise you.” Toji would reassure you once carefully placing you down to the bed after tiring yourself from crying, followed by a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

 “I swear, Y/N— I will not let my family do the same things they’ve done to me to our child. Even if it costs me my life, I will do everything in my power to keep the two of you safe.”

And unlike your husband, he means it.

Yes, a second part is coming :) just gotta put this one out first hehe.

Anyways, it's not exactly what you asked but I think it's going there??? I mean Toji STEPPED UP and was like OK imma take care of my baby mama. also, here Naoya .I. put it where it fits. ugh, can't say we're done with him...

agihajkgksa I'm excited for what's to come, I haven't written this level of angst in a while!! oof!!!

Thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask :> I'm super happy you've like my oneshot so much!! I hope you'll be able to like this too!!

Take care, and see you soon! ❤️❤️

#ask #toji x reader #jjk toji #naoya x reader #naoya zen'in #toji fic #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk angst #toji zenin #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #toji x y/n #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[diazsdimples]

Buck/Eddie - “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

You got it boss 🫡

"Why haven't you kissed me yet?" Eddie does his best not to whine as he pokes Buck in the side, but it's getting increasingly more difficult. He's been awake for 5 whole minutes, on his birthday, and Buck still has not kissed him! "Eds," Buck groans, his voice muffled as he lies face first in his pillow. "It's the middle of the damn night." "But it's my birthday," Eddie says as he shakes Buck's arm, trying to rouse his unacceptably sleepy boyfriend. "And it's not the middle of the night, it's 7am." "Exactly, the middle of the night," Buck reiterates as he pushes himself onto his elbows. His hair is rumpled and sticking up at odd ends, making him look a little like he's just stuck his finger in an electric socket, and his cheeks are pink and rosy from sleep. Eddie can wholeheartedly say Buck has never been cuter than he is right now. "What kind of weirdo wakes up at 7am on their birthday anyway. You're meant to sleep in." Eddie huffs and flops back against his pillows, resigning himself to the horrible fate of not receiving birthday kisses. "Maybe I woke up because I was excited to have a fun day." "We will have a fun day," Buck yawns. He rolls onto his side, facing Eddie, and stretches out his arm to draw small circles onto Eddie's ribs. Eddie used to be extremely ticklish before he met Buck, and it had taken a lot of training before Buck could even touch his sides without Eddie bursting out into giggles and batting his hands away. Now, it just feels... nice. Comforting, even. Buck touching him will always make him feel safe. "Just let me sleep for a little longer and I promise I'll give you all the kisses in the world." Eddie shifts so he's on his side too. "You promise?" he asks, taking Buck's hand and lacing their fingers together. Buck squeezes gently as he rubs his thumb over Eddie's knuckles. "I promise," he confirms. "Just give me another hour." Eddie's lucky it's only an hour, on their days off Buck usually won't surface until 10am and it takes an extra hour on top of that - assuming he gets his coffee on time - to be up for human interaction. "Okay," Eddie agrees. "One more hour." Buck smiles, soft and gentle, just like the morning sun, and rolls back onto his stomach, bunching up his pillow once again. "Thanks, Eds." An hour isn't too long. Eddie can wait an hour. If he closes his eyes and employs one of the relaxation techniques he learnt in therapy, he might even manage to get back to sleep. Although... "Hey Buck?" Buck stirs and opens one eye, looking at Eddie blearily through his eyelashes. Fuck, he really is the cutest thing alive. "Yeah baby?" "You still haven't kissed me yet."

Send me a ship and a sentence and I'll finish it!

Also tagging @theotherbuckley cause she wanted to be tagged sdkfjskdf

#james answers things #james writes #buddie #911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 buddie #buddie ficlet #911 ficlet #eddie x buck #911

[onthewaytosomewhere]

OK-so it's Wednesday and WIPs and all that

ok so i meant to get back to hockey and books 'cuz that's where i wanna be right now but my brain was in a not so creative place until someone broke me out of it last night

so for wirp wednesday i got bits of a new thing that is gonna be part of a series NOT-SO-MUCH ONE NIGHT STANDS (cuz well they don't necessarily stay that way) that i've already got 2 fics going for - one firstprince and one liam/pez cuz well that's apparently really becoming a thing for me

so first thanks @suseagull04 for the out of context lines tag - i have something for that too (not one of those other ones) throwing this on here too cuz i can lol

He kisses Henry on the cheek, whispers, “Get me whatever you wanna share,” and sneaks up to the office when everyone is finalizing the breakfast order

thank you so much for the wip wed tags @jmagnabo92 @theprinceandagcd @suseagull04 @firenati0n @adreamareads

@piratefalls @duchessdepolignaca03 @thesleepyskipper oh! and stealing @kiwiana-writes and @cha-melodius open tags cuz that's what they're for :)

nsfw words & tags (it's the words nsfw not the tags lol)beneath the tag

Now, it’s moments like right now, where he’s biting his way across Alex’s thighs, thighs sprinkled with just the right amount of hair, hairy in the way that Henry likes, not just a dusting but actual hair that catches on his tongue as he lavishes the spots he’s sucked bruises into. These moments are the ones that make him so glad he got away from everything else. He can have this anonymous moment with someone so hot he doesn’t want to kick him out the way he has the others eventually. It’s halfway through the morning after, and they’ve yet to get out of bed for more than bathroom trips – one of those with some spectacular moments in the shower – and some quick trips to the kitchen for drinks and some quick snacks when Alex lures him into turning on the tv and watching a movie after round three. They barely make it through the movie when Henry is orgasming for the fourth time that night. Henry is no stranger to multiple orgasms; he’s in his low 20s and knows that brings with it a quicker refractory period. But Alex, the stranger who’s fast working on filling Henry in on every aspect of his life so it no longer feels that way, is doing things for that quick refractory period he’s never experienced before.  Henry doesn’t know how he got so lucky last night when he accompanied Pez and Liam to the club, but he is beyond happy that Liam decided to bring his friend, and that said friend was agreeable to finding his way into Henry’s bed.

if ya already did this and i missed it i'm sure i'll find it - consider me a top gun pilot doing a fly-by lolz

tagging: @agame-writes @agostobuwan @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites

@dragonflylady77 @england-would-fall @firstsprinces @forever-fixating

@getmehighonmagic @heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine

@itsmaybitheway @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @littlemisskittentoes

@lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @mikibwrites @msmarvelouswinchester

@nocoastposts @priincebutt @sophie1973 @stellarm

@tailsbeth-writes @thedramasummer @thinkof-england @cricketnationrise

@tinyarmedtrex @typicalopposite @wordsofhoneydew @yrsacdfox

@captainjunglegym @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @violetbaudelaire-quagmire

DON'T MIND ME JUST ADDING AN IMPORTANT TAG THE SUN IN MY EYES MADE ME MISS LOLZ @taste-thewaste

#NOT-SO-MUCH ONE NIGHT STANDS #wip wednesday #rwrb wips #onthewaytosomewhere #why does tumblr still make tagging difficult #r u tryin' to make me tag less people #i'm resilient that ain't gonna work lolz

[hippolotamus]

Fic title: baby, you've got to be crazy 🫶

Hiiiiii, Husband 💞 some more lovey idiots for you. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions about how they wound up here 😘

“I-” Buck scoffs, throwing his hands up, then brings one to rub at his chin while the other rests on his hip. He forces himself to look at Eddie who is worrying with a loose thread on his shirt sleeve. “Eds, you can’t- you don’t mean that.”

Buck's accusation is born out of self-preservation more than anything. Because, of all the things - spoken and unspoken - that have passed between them through the years, he has never wanted his best friend to mean anything more than the words he just uttered.

Eddie folds his arms across his chest, widening his stance. Nothing drastic, just the smallest amount. Enough to convey he’s serious and not backing down.

"Why not, Buck? Huh? Why can't I mean that?"

Buck starts to protest, to release a litany of reasons, but no sound comes out. His jaw snaps shut when Eddie seemingly drops his defenses, closing the gap between them in two large strides.

Eddie rests one hand on each of Buck's shoulders, letting his thumb settle in the divot of Buck's collarbone. One of the many pieces of Buck that was never good enough for anyone else, but seems to have been custom made for Eddie Diaz.

Eddie's fingertips skim over Buck's hoodie - the burnt orange one Eddie always says looks good on him - down his biceps, around his elbows, over his forearms until their hands are joining. Brown eyes, the color of soil and earth, meet Buck's. They're searching and pleading, looking for an answer Buck desperately wants to give.

"Buck." Eddie's gaze flicks to his mouth for just a second, making him feel like he's burning. And he would, he wants to, but not yet. Not until he's sure what Eddie's asking of him. "Evan."

Eddie rests their foreheads together, bringing them even closer. "Haven't we done this long enough? Haven't we sacrificed and said 'no, not yet' too many times? I don't-" He forcefully exhales between them, a frustrated sigh that tapers off to quiet, wounded thing. "I've missed so many chances. Told myself that it wasn't our time yet and I could wait a little longer. Until the next one. But, I can't. I can't do it anymore. Can't lose you."

Tears gather at the corner of Buck's eyes and he has to swallow back the tremor that wants to accompany every word.

"Okay," he manages. "Say it again."

Eddie’s tongue darts out, swiping across his lips that instantly curve into a small smile. The one Buck pretends is just for him. “Marry me. Be my husband. Plea-”

Buck cuts him off. “Yes, I’ll be your husband,” he whispers, then huffs out a small laugh. "Maybe kiss me first?"

And Eddie does. He brings their lips together, slow and cautious but so, so certain. Like he's never been more sure of anything, like kissing Buck is the easiest decision of his life.

It strikes Buck that this is the last first kiss he'll ever have. That they'll ever have. How it's a precious gift they've been permitted to share with each other.

With every passing year, he became more and more convinced they were two parallel lines, meant to travel together but never touch. Yet here they are, crossing and twisting and intertwining. Beginning to weave the next chapter of their story.

Eddie threads his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Buck's neck, sighing into their kiss, and Buck knows he has never meant anything more.

send me a made up fic title

#hippo writes #james tag 💍 #fic title ask #buddie #friends to fiancés??? more likely than you think

[xcherryerim]

A kiss On the Lips

Derek x chubby gn!reader | wc: 3.1k

“And if it feels right, promise I don’t mind. And if it feels right, promise I’ll stay here all night” — Let Me Love You by Ariana Grande

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18 ONLY

Warning: Sexual tension | oral sex (to reader) | unprotected sex | penetration | light spanking | a bit of aftercare. | porn with plot

If you wanna go directly to the smut look for the “…”

As you continued to prepare drinks for the eager patrons, your hands grew weary, but there was no time for rest. This was no ordinary night; Derek Danforth, the wealthy and notorious playboy had decided to splurge on a round of drinks for the entire club. Glancing at the impeccably dressed man with blonde highlights, his fishnet shirt adorned with sparkling diamonds, and a black coat was surrounded by an entourage of stunning models. You couldn't help but let out a wry chuckle. Just another night at the club, you thought to yourself.

When you tried to get back to your work, your gaze quickly met his hazel eyes. Derek flashed you a dazzling smile, and in the blink of an eye, he appeared right in front of you, leaning casually against the counter. 

Derek scanned the menu above you with a confident air before turning to face you once more, his smile unchanged. "Let me get a 'Kiss On The Lips,' please."

The unexpected request caught you off guard, but you tried to hide your surprise. With a deep breath, you regained your composure and replied, the corner of your lips raising lightly. 

"That's going to cost ya."

Raising an eyebrow, Derek slid onto a nearby stool, his gaze locked on yours as he queried, "How much?"

You leaned against the counter and without missing a beat you responded. "Fifty bucks." 

His eyes widened slightly, seemingly surprised by your bold response. "For a drink?"

Surprised by his reaction, you couldn't resist the urge to chuckle at his expense. "Oh, it's a drink?! I must admit, I've never heard of that one before." The corner of your mouth curved into a playful grin as you watched him burst into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the bustling club.

Recovering from his fit of giggles, Derek shook his head, still chuckling softly. "You thought I meant..." he trailed off, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

With a wink, you retorted, "Yeah, sorry. I should've known better, seeing as how you have a certain... type." Your attention shifted towards the VIP section where the models were dancing and sipping their drinks, unable to hide your amusement at the sight.

Derek raised an eyebrow, his expression turned more serious despite the lingering twinkle in his eyes. "What are you implying?"

You got closer, your eyes scanning the new sight of him. "I mean, I'm not a model." You shrugged, chuckling as your clothes clung tight to your curvy body from the hot atmosphere of the bar, a sight that wouldn’t go unnoticed by Derek. 

He bit his rosy lips and stared at your form longer than intended. "Are you kidding? You're way past attractive," 

"Hey, wow, I never said I wasn't," you returned, flashing a proud grin in return. "But you prefer models."

Derek's hazel eyes flickered over you, appraisingly, before he responded, "There are models your size. And bigger." A faint smile played on his lips as he subtly traced his fingers along the contours of your hand, his touch both teasing and intimate.

"You'd make a good one, actually...and your hands are quite beautiful too," With a sense of reverence, he delicately traced the lines of your fingers, drawing out each touch as if savoring every moment.

 "You'd make a great hand model as well..." His voice trailed off, lost in thoughts of your nimble fingers exploring his body, teasing and pleasuring him in ways that left him wanting.

You rolled your eyes at his flattery, trying to keep things professional. "All that charm won't get you a free drink." You attempted to maintain a stern facade, but the heat in your cheeks gave away your true feelings.

Derek's eyes twinkled with mischief as he proposed, his voice velvety smooth, "How about this? If you give me a 'kiss on the lips' after I finish my drink, you'll reward me with another kiss for being such a 'good boy.' And then..." His fingertips trailed along your knuckles, making your knees weak. "I take you to the dance floor and then, we finish the day off with you taking me home?"

You stood there, processing his words, uncertainty clouding your thoughts. Was he truly serious about this proposition? But the way his eyes lingered on you, tracing your form, and the subtle hint of pink in his cheeks left no doubt. Derek was dead serious.

You nodded in agreement, focusing on preparing the drink while avoiding eye contact. Your hands trembled slightly, a mix of nervousness and excitement causing your pulse to race. Derek's proposition was bold, and you found yourself torn between curiosity and caution.

He snickered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Why so shy now? I don't bite." He smiled innocently, but the promise in his voice was anything but innocent. "Unless you want me to."

He winked a sly challenge hanging in the air as he patiently waited for his drink. You couldn't help but feel drawn to him, the allure of danger and passion swirling around him like a magnetic force.

As soon as you finished mixing the concoction, Derek took a sip, his full lips moving sensuously around the rim of the glass. You found yourself mesmerized by the sight, eager for the promise of his next kiss.

When Derek finally set the empty glass aside, you leaned in close, your heart pounding in your chest as the electricity between you reached a fever pitch. His lips were warm and inviting, urging you to lose yourself in the moment. The kiss deepened,  sparks flying as tongues intertwined.

Breathless and panting from the intensity, you reluctantly pulled away, gazes locked on each other, admiring their mutual disheveled image. Derek's eyes danced with lust as he whispered hoarsely, "Now, can I take you to dance?"

You hesitated for a moment, the thrill of the unknown coursing through your veins. Nodding, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the music, joining Derek on the dance floor. The pulsing beats fueled your passion, and you found yourself lost in the sensuality of the moment.

His strong arms wrapped around you, pressing your body tightly against his. The heat of his touch sent waves of desire through you, and you couldn't help but notice the evidence of his desire pressed against your rear.

You teased him gently, your voice dripping with flirtation. "Having fun?"

Derek's response was a low murmur, filled with unbridled hunger that made your heart race. "Oh, you have no idea," he whispered, his left hand resting possessively on your hip while his right hand gripped your ass cheek, drawing you even closer.

As the night wore on and the club began to wind down, Derek's eyes darkened with desire as he looked at you, the longing in his gaze unmistakable. He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that belied his usual confidence.

"Let's go to your place," he suggested, hastily shrugging on his black coat. You raised an eyebrow, aware of the stark contrast between your humble apartment and his lavish estate. 

"Why not yours?" you asked curiously, wondering why he chose your home over his.

Derek's expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes before disappearing as quickly as it came. "It'll be nice to be somewhere else that isn't home..." he murmured, his voice tinged with melancholy that piqued your interest.

Before you could probe further, he gently lifted your chin, his fingers firm yet tender. "Let's go," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. There was a sense of urgency in his voice, a need that spoke volumes about his desire for you. "I can't wait much longer."

… 

"Mmh... oh, fuck!" Derek exclaimed, his voice barely above a whisper as he ravaged your lips in a desperate kiss. As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, he wasted no time unbuttoning your uniform, his hands trembling with anticipation. The intensity of his kiss left you breathless, struggling to catch your breath.

"Where?" he asked between frantic kisses, his eyes searching for guidance in the dimly lit room.

You managed to point towards the bedroom, your voice barely audible above the sound of his lips crashing on yours. Satisfied with your answer, Derek continued to kiss you with reckless abandon, guiding your body toward the room with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperation.

Finally, he threw you gently onto the bed, landing on top of you with a primal need that left you gasping for air. The weight of his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the evidence of his desire through his pants.

His trembling lips trailed down to your neck, nuzzling the sensitive skin as he discarded the long-sleeved shirt you wore. His hands roamed over your body, and you felt a surge of excitement and anticipation that left you breathless. Through his groans and the hickeys he left behind, you could just make out the words, "You smell so good."

As you ran your fingers through his curls, you watched Derek's reaction, his body melting under your touch. It wasn't until you tightened your grip slightly that he reacted, releasing a guttural moan that shook his entire frame. Surprise and confusion crossed his features, his dilated pupils fixated on your face.

Without warning, Derek's skilled fingers worked their way across your zipper, swiftly undoing it. Gasps escaped your lips as he did the same with his clothing, revealing his arousal beneath.

"Can you face fuck me?" he demanded abruptly, his eyes locking onto yours. The change in his tone was unmistakable; this wasn't a request for permission but a claim of what he desired.

Surprised by the sudden shift, you stammered, "What?" before realizing the implications of his words. Before you could protest further, he peeled away the rest of your clothing, revealing your naked form beneath.

"You're lucky," he whispered hoarsely, his voice tinged with a husky timbre. "I'm usually the one doing the face fucking, not the other way around... but,”

He parted your legs, his eyes gleaming with forbidden hunger. His eyes locked with yours, filled with raw desire and a promise of pleasure yet to come. 

“I want to be choked between your thighs as I taste you."

His eyes locked with yours, and you felt a wave of desire wash over you, catching your breath in your throat. There was a mix of shock and excitement at his request, but the allure of his suggestion was impossible to deny. Nodding in agreement, you encouraged him to proceed, curiosity getting the best of you.

Derek's eyes darkened, and you felt a deep sense of intimacy as his gaze never left yours while he positioned himself between your legs. His lips gently grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. As his talented tongue began to explore, each delicate flick and swipe, created a sensation that was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

The tips of his fingers lightly brushed against the throbbing between your legs, eliciting gasps from you. His rhythm was steady, yet passionate, his tongue delving deeper, coaxing you higher and higher with each pass. Your breath became uneven, mingling with the sounds of his eager exploration.

As the intensity built within you, so did the connection between you two. You could feel Derek's focus solely on pleasing you, the lovemaking becoming a dance of sorts, a beautiful exchange of pleasure and desire. Each lick, suckle, and nibble drove you wilder, your body arching in response.

you reached out and ran your fingers through his hair, holding him in place with a firm grip. Your moans grew louder and more intense, and your thighs instinctively wrapped around him, pulling his head closer, and urging him to delve deeper into the forbidden territory. Your fingers dug into his curls, silently begging him to continue as the pleasure built within you.

Derek moaned loudly, his arousal growing with every sound you made. Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he pulled you closer, positioning himself perfectly between your legs. His tongue darted and swirled, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body like wildfire.

Derek tapped your thighs, signaling the need for air. Reluctantly, you released him, your eyes drawn to the mixture of fluids and saliva coating his mouth and chin. There was something undeniably erotic about the sight, its raw nature turning you on even more.

He panted heavily as he commanded, "Get on fours." Without protest, you complied, laying your stomach flat on the bed while your legs dangling off the side. The vulnerability you felt only added to the excitement building within you.

Derek admired the view from behind, his eyes tracing the curves of your body. "So big..." he murmured, biting his lip in anticipation. His large hands smacked your ass, the stinging sensation leaving a clear mark on your skin. Each strike was deliberate, designed to heighten your arousal even further.

He admired the sight of his length disappearing between your rounded behind, and you could tell he was struggling to maintain control. A low, pained whimper escaped him, the sound raw and genuine. It seemed as though he'd been yearning for this moment since the very first time he'd laid eyes on you at the bar.

With renewed vigor, Derek began thrusting, his movements fierce and unrestrained. "God," he breathed out the words, the phrase echoing in your ears. "I can't get enough of you," he said, his nails digging into your love handles as a testament to his desire and the intensity of the moment.

The room was now filled with the sounds of skin slapping against each other, a symphony of uncontrolled whimpers, and your hungry moans. 

"Don't hold back, let me hear you, baby," Derek panted, his voice barely above a whisper. His words were a command, an invitation to let loose and give yourself to the pleasure completely. As he sank even deeper inside you, your body convulsed, the intensity growing with each thrust.

You countered his statement with a smirk, "You can do better than that," your words laced with challenge, goading him further into the realm of pleasure.

Chuckling, Derek responded, "Is that so?" His smirk only grew wider. "Fine. Hands behind your back." He quickly seized your wrists, guiding them into place and holding them firmly. With each thrust, he increased the force, his body moving in a cadence that pushed you to the brink of madness.

"Louder," he commanded, his voice taking on a different tone when he whispered your name, tinged with a hint of neediness. The demand was evident in the tone of his voice, and you knew that obeying would only fuel the fire raging between you both.

"Let me hear you," he insisted, his authority unmistakable. Your body trembled, anticipation building with each word and thrust.

You cried out in pure pleasure, your voice echoing through the room as Derek's thrusts became more forceful. His command had pushed you beyond any limits you thought existed, driving you to new heights of ecstasy. Your body writhed beneath him, your moans filling the space as he continued to dominate you in every sense of the word.

The tension built, each second drawing you closer to your climax. With each thrust, your ecstasy grew, coupled with the knowledge that Derek's release was near. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to your ear, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.

His voice was a rough, desperate growl as he declared, "I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are." The words were tinged with pride and possession, his grip tightening on your wrists as if to emphasize his claim.

You giggled despite yourself, the playfulness in your voice belied the intensity of the situation. "I bet they can hear you too."

"How can't they?" Derek retorted, his eyes gleaming with devilish delight. With a resounding slap, he struck your ass, the sting only adding to the pleasure. "If I'm fucking this sweet thing of yours."

He paused, admiring the sight before him. Tracing his hand along your ass, he marveled at the hickeys on your neck and the marks covering your body. "You're already hot, but you look even hotter with my marks all over you." The admission was equal parts tender and possessive, a testament to his need for dominance and control.

You began to sway your hips in tandem with his thrusts, your movements teasing his length with every motion. Derek groaned loudly, his body tense with anticipation. His eyes remained glued to the sight unfolding before him.

"Oh, yeah," he muttered, his eyes glued to the sight. "Thrust against my cock." His voice was a plea, a silent command that you couldn't ignore. With a wicked smile, you obliged, matching his movements with your own. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of you, the rhythm intensifying as you fed off each other's energy.

Derek bit his lip, his eyes gleaming with lust as he watched the spectacle unfold. The room was alive with the sounds of your bodies connecting, the evidence of your passion on full display for anyone with the courage to peek inside. 

Time seemed to slow down, each moment stretching into eternity as you lost yourself in the dance of flesh and desire. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you to revel in your primal connection. As you moved together, Derek's hands traced the marks he'd left on your body, a visual testament to the night you shared.

After several minutes of intense passion, Derek found his release, burying himself deep within you as warmth flooded your core. His body shook, his breaths becoming ragged as he sought to regain control. He continued to thrust, prolonging the sensation until you too reached your peak. Together, you rode the waves of pleasure, surrendering to the power of your connection.

Once spent, you both collapsed on the bed, your bodies sticky and slick with sweat and passion. Derek's head fell onto your thighs, the same limbs that had choked him moments earlier. His breaths were shallow, his heartbeat slowing down to a normal rhythm. He pressed a gentle kiss to your skin, the gesture charged with meaning and gratitude.

Contentment washed over both of you as you lay there, catching your breath. His lips curved into a satisfied smile, his eyes filled with affection. He offered a soft yet meaningful remark, "This feels nice."

With a smile, you continued to caress his hair, enjoying the quiet moment of intimacy that followed the frenzy of desire. Your fingers ran through his locks, a soothing gesture that spoke volumes about the connection you shared.

Thank you for reading!

If you only want to see my smut work, consider following @xxxcherryerim where I reblog my work!

btw sorry if this was lowkey bad but i been feeling shitty the whole week idk why.

taglist: @freak-accident419 @joshhutchersonsgf @valreanakuroo @jhutch-bf @cassiecasluciluce @jhutchismyl0verb0y (if you want to be added let me know!)

#derek danforth smut #derek danforth #derek danforth x gn!reader #derek danforth x you #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth headcanons #derek danforth fluff #mike schmidt #mike schimdt smut #josh futturman smut #clapton davis smut #jhutch #jhutch1992

[happy74827]

The Demon With A Heart

[Crowley x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Crowley saves your life, you can't help but think it was a little more than self-interest.

WC: 1858

Category: 99.9% Sexual Tension (lmfao), 0.01% Fluff + Angst? {TW: Mentions of Demons (obvi), Murder}

Crowley is too iconic not to have fics. I said what I said.

『••✎••』

You didn’t know how to react. It was as if your tongue was taken away, and you couldn’t talk, no matter how much you wanted to thank the man.

No, the demon.

You stood there with wide eyes, staring at the King of Hell, Crowley. He looked the same as before: a clean suit, a snarky comment, and a look of disgust on his face. But, instead of being on the opposite side, he was wiping the blood off of the angel blade he used to kill the angel that jumped you.

He just saved you—The King of Hell.

The very man who told Sam and Dean countless times that he doesn't do anything for free and doesn’t help people without getting something out of it. Yet, here he was, standing in front of you, not asking for a single thing.

The thought was a bit unsettling.

"Purely out of self-interest, darling," He says, breaking the silence and putting the stolen blade into his jacket. "Call it a favor that I plan to collect in the future."

He was about to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. Not without a thank you, at least. You didn't want him to think you didn’t appreciate what he did.

"Crowley."

The man turns back around, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you"

The corner of his mouth turned upward, forming a small smirk. He didn’t say anything but rather kept his eyes on you for a second longer. He then disappeared, leaving you in the dark.

And it did leave you in the dark. For days, weeks, months. He never came for that favor, and he never brought up what happened. In fact, he barely talked to you at all. It was always towards the Winchesters.

You began to believe it was nothing but a dream. That Crowley somehow didn't save you. The angel was a fake, and this was all some sick joke. It felt like gaslighting.

But you knew what happened was real. You remembered the blood splatter and the dead corpse. The way his face contorted when he pierced the angel's heart.

It was all too real.

So, why was he ignoring you? Why did he pretend that it never happened? Was he going to hold it over your head? Or was it just the fact that the King of Hell did something nice for a human?

Was it because he… cared?

One night, you got your answer. It was a quiet night filled with books, tea, and soft music. At least, it was before those idiotic brothers decided to tear down the bunker in search of some book.

You couldn’t remember the exact reason they needed it, but you were too tired to argue. So, you stayed in your room and tried to fall asleep.

That is until the lights went out and the emergency lights kicked on. Okay, now you were annoyed. You got up, slipped on your shoes and a coat, and walked out of your room.

"Alright, what did you two-"

You paused mid-sentence, eyes falling onto the figure in the library. The man was facing the opposite way, but you knew exactly who it was. The familiar black suit and hair gave it away.

"Crowley…"

"Hello, Darling,” he replied, turning around and smiling at you. It was almost unnerving. He didn’t have a malicious aura or even an evil one. Just... a smile.

You looked behind him and noticed… well, nothing. You were expecting the Winchesters to be with him, and yet, it was just him.

"Where are the boys?"

"Moose and Squirrel? Ah, they're off somewhere, doing... well, you know. Something heroic, I suppose. Figured I’d stick around… enjoy the scenery."

That’s when you looked up and understood what he meant. He was stuck, quite literally. Those devil traps they put everywhere finally did something good.

You half-expected him to bring up that 'favor' he was talking about or maybe even just demand to get out of there, but he did neither. Instead, he looked at the ground and sighed.

At the moment, the King of Hell looked just like a caged puppy, sad and alone. If he wasn’t such a… demon, you might have even felt bad for him.

But, you left him in there, strolling along to the kitchen to find some kind of light. You were not giving up your two hours of reading due to power loss.

As you shuffled through the cabinets, looking for any form of match or lighter, the lights flickered back on.

So that’s where the Winchesters were.

You shrugged and turned back to your room but stopped at the entrance to the library. Crowley was still there, but this time, his face was twisted. He was clearly pissed.

"Why did you do it?" The burning question you wanted answered for months finally came out. Crowley stopped his little fit and turned towards you, a confused expression on his face.

He looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

"I do a lot of things, Chipmunk. You'll have to be more specific."

You walked towards him, resting down the candles and book on a nearby table. You didn’t know why, but the need to confront him was growing.

"Save me all those months ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You were getting closer, now only a few feet from him. Crowley, however, didn’t back away. Instead, he watched as you moved, his expression unchanging.

"That angel could’ve killed me, yet you came out of nowhere and stabbed him. I know you don't do anything out of kindness, so why did you do it? What do I offer that no one else does?"

Crowley stayed silent for a while, not giving any indication of answering your questions.

You thought it was just a lost cause until his expression changed. It was subtle, but you caught it. The corner of his mouth turned down, and his eyes widened, then narrowed.

He almost looked ashamed.

"It's just like I said. Self-interest." He spat out, his voice sounding like venom. You almost took a step back. It still sounded like the same old Crowley, but his tone was different.

You decided to call his bluff.

"I don't believe you."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming across his face. He was amused by the sudden attitude, but it didn’t last long.

"And what makes you say that?"

"I saw the way you looked at me after you saved me. Hesitancy, almost. Like you were unsure. As if..."

The King of Hell stared at you, waiting for the last part of your statement. He was eager but not for the answer. No, he knew what you were going to say.

He was just waiting to hear it come out of your mouth.

"You care."

Those words hung in the air, both of you processing it. Crowley continued to stare at you, the smirk disappearing, leaving his face neutral. He had a blank expression.

A silence grew, the atmosphere turning awkward. It wasn't until the demon let out a loud sigh and looked to the side that it was broken.

"You’re really pulling on the heartstrings, Chipmunk,” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If I had one, I'd say it was aching."

"Do you?"

You knew what you were implying. Crowley was the King of Hell, the ruler of the damned. He was the furthest thing from human, yet he could walk among them and, sometimes, be mistaken for one.

Was it possible for him to be human or even have emotions?

Crowley looked at you and frowned, clearly not liking the topic. But he didn't deny it. It was a strange sight—the King of Hell, frowning and silent.

It was almost adorable.

"I'm not asking for anything. I just… want an honest answer."

"Well, I am a demon, love,” He stated, his tone changing to a more playful one. “Honesty isn’t quite in the job description."

"Crowley"

You were starting to get impatient, and it showed. Your voice was firm, and your posture was tense. You wanted an answer, and you were determined to get it.

The demon in question let out another sigh and looked at the ceiling as if praying for a quick escape.

"You're a pain, you know that? It's exhausting." He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But, I suppose, since you asked nicely..."

The man looked at you, his lips pursed. He was still hesitating, which only made you more curious.

"Yes, I care. About you. Happy?"

You blinked a few times, processing the information. Did the King of Hell, the person known for not giving a shit, just admit he cares?

"I-" You started, not knowing what to say. It was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. Crowley wasn't exactly a bad guy, well, a demon.

"Do you actually mean that?"

"Now that…" Crowley started, his voice low and deep. He leaned towards you, making you back up, but the wall soon prevented you from going any further.

He was inches away, his breath hitting your face. You could see his eyes staring into yours—a pretty brown, like a mocha latte.

"…Is the kind of question that will get you in trouble, love."

You weren’t sure what he was planning, but you didn't care. The way his eyes were looking at you, the smirk on his face, the closeness...

He was probably expecting you to back away, but he was wrong. You were an avid reader, obsessive even. This scene wasn't new, nor was it shocking.

The only shocking part was the fact that you were the one in it. And, well, the fact that you didn’t mind it.

"Unlike you,” you whispered, a small smirk on your face. "I don’t care."

Your response made him pause for a moment, squinting his eyes and giving you a confused look. It only lasted a few seconds, though. Soon, he understood, and a chuckle escaped his lips.

"Touché"

You truly believed you were about to lose your chance with the man upstairs, but loud footsteps interrupted you.

"Crowley, you slimy son of a bitch! If you’re not here, we are going to-"

Dean stopped talking as he rounded the corner, seeing you and Crowley close. His expression was shocked, almost comical.

"The hell is going on here?"

You and Crowley both turned to look at Dean, a look of annoyance on the King of Hell's face. Sam came around the corner as well, sharing the same look of confusion.

Crowley gave you one last glance, a bit of disappointment in his eyes, before taking a step back. His attention moved on to the two hunters, his usual smile returning.

And despite the annoyance in the air and the confusion, the only thing that came across your mind was another question that you were sure would take control of your sleep schedule once again.

"Hello, boys," He purred, his arms moving to his side. He was back to his old self, not showing a single sign of what happened moments ago.

Had the beauty thawed the beast?

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