#it's frustrating to commit to something with your whole chest and then not be able to do it

[chvoswxtch]

back up plan

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: when the interrogation doesn't go as planned, matt has to compromise.

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood & violence

word count: 2.6k

a/n: just so you know, part of what takes so long for me to post these chapters is I get stuck staring at gifs of matt murdock, and then I think about all the situations I wanna put him in. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“So, is there something that makes this rooftop more special than the last one we were on? Or do you just have favorites you like to brood on like a Gargoyle?”

Matt ignored her as he fastened Dimitri’s wrists together with rope, looped through one of the bars of the water tower above. It kept his unconscious body upright, and it would prevent him from being able to go anywhere when he woke up.

“This neighborhood is mostly abandoned buildings and trap houses.”

“And?”

“No one will care if they hear screaming.”

Her brows lifted in surprise, looking him up and down curiously as she watched him expertly weave the rope in a binding labyrinth not even a goddamn boy scout could escape. 

“Wow, you really are a whole other person in that suit.”

“No I’m not-”

“Oh come on, you even change your voice.”

Matt pressed his lips together as he let out a frustrated exhale, tightening the last knot.

“I disguise my voice so I won’t be recognized.”

“And yet you leave the very recognizable lower half of your face uncovered.”

Matt dipped his head back and muttered an annoyed ‘Oh my God’ under his breath, making her amused grin difficult to hide.

“I’m just saying. Your Daredevil voice isn’t that different, and you have a distinct face, even if half of it is covered. Besides, anyone who’s seen you from behind would recognize you in a heartbeat.”

Underneath the cowl, Matt rolled his eyes for the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes and tossed the remaining rope onto the ground.

“Are you done?”

“For now.”

Leaning against the ledge of the rooftop, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“So what exactly is the plan here?”

“Get him to talk.”

“I know that, devil boy. I mean how do plan to do that?”

Matt cocked his head to the side slightly while listening to Dimitri’s breathing and heart rate. He was still out cold. Pulling off his gloves, Matt removed his cowl next, and the breeze that blew past felt even colder when it hit the sweat that had dampened his hair. It was a welcome chill that helped cool down his body temperature.

“You do realize I interrogate people every night, right?”

“I’m aware. But you’re delusional if you think beating the shit out of him is going to get him to give up Tarasov.”

Matt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand while his other rested on his hip.

“I’m not delusional-”

“You’re over three hundred thousand dollars in debt from law school, and yet instead of committing to your profession, you commit felonies every single night that could get you sent to prison. That’s a pretty goddamn good case for being delusional.” 

Matt pressed his lips together in a disapproving frown as he fixed his hazel eyes over in her general direction. He didn’t have a retort for that. Once again, she was right. God he was really getting sick of feeling so off balance around her. It pissed him off every single time.

“Well it’s certainly a better fucking plan than the one you had.”

There was a serrated bite to his words, and it straightened her spine in an instant. The sharpness of his judgment snapped like a whip, and the verbal lash landed like a physical one. Her fleeting reaction caused a familiar feeling of guilt to rise within him. In his anger, he always took it too far. It was like his brain searched through an arsenal to find the sharpest words he could weaponize, and he’d aim directly where he knew they would cut the deepest. 

He’d spent his whole life trying to tame his temper, and he usually had better self discipline, but something about her drove him fucking insane. It was like he completely lost control around her. Letting out a deep sigh, Matt rubbed his hand down the lower half of his face and then placed his hands on his hips.

“Why was that your plan, anyway? I mean, surely you were taught how to interrogate at S.H.I.E.L.D., or wherever you were before.”

She turned to face the ledge of the rooftop, absentmindedly staring out at the expanse of the city. Another breeze blew past, and when it carried that blend of spiced vanilla and jasmine he’d grown to associate with her scent, he involuntarily inhaled deeply as it hit his nose. He hated how much he liked it. He hated how his body reacted to it.

“That wouldn’t work on him.”

Matt’s brows knit towards the center of his forehead that creased in confusion.

“Why not?”

“Because he spent two years in a prison in Siberia, although, calling it a prison is generous. When he wasn’t being tortured, he was left to starve and freeze to death in his cell. He intentionally got frostbite on his foot so he could break it, pull out one of the bones, and use it to stab some of the guards to escape. He doesn’t respond to pain like a normal human being.”

Matt grimaced at the mental image that painted, and he felt a phantom pain in his own foot that had him clenching and flexing his toes in his boots.

“Christ.”

Letting out a deep exhale through her nose, she glanced up at the sky above. The city lights made it nearly impossible to see a single star.

“But, he is a man, and he does respond as such. Like the rest of you simple creatures, he can’t deny the intrinsic desires of the flesh.”

Matt opened his mouth to protest at being lumped into the same category as someone like Dimitri Sokolov, but she cut him off.

“And he spends as much money on sex workers as he does on drugs. He hires women for these meet ups like clockwork, so I paid off the woman he originally booked to take her place.”

His defense dried up on his tongue at this revelation. She’d shown up as the entertainment because she knew Dimitri was expecting it. She’d studied his habits, and she’d found a foolproof way to infiltrate the poker game without arousing suspicion. 

And now he felt like even more of an asshole.

“Oh.”

It was all he could think of to say. In hindsight, it was a genius plan, and he’d completely ruined it by jumping to conclusions and being a sententious dick. He seemed to keep forgetting that this was her job. This was what she had done for years. She was trained to account for things he wouldn’t even think about. He was a vigilante, but she was a spy. As much as he hated to admit it, he was out of his element. 

But his stubborn pride prevented him from acknowledging that or apologizing for his behavior. Instead, he did what he did best in uncomfortable situations. 

Distraction.

“Look, I’m sure he endured a hell I couldn’t even fathom in my wildest imagination, but that doesn’t mean he’s immune to pain.”

“No, but he has a high tolerance. We could be up here all night.”

Matt knew violence, and he knew how to wield it. He was certain he could get Dimitri to talk. 

“Just let me try.”

Throwing her hands up in exasperation, she let out an exhale of annoyance and shook her head while looking out across the rooftops.

“Fine. Do it your way.”

»»———　　———««

As soon as Matt could hear Dimitri’s breathing getting lighter, signaling his return to consciousness, he slapped him harshly across the face, and Dimitri immediately began to thrash against his restraints, yelling out curses in Russian.

“Sorry, I don’t speak asshole. Can you repeat that?”

Dimitri’s eyes were wild with rage, and his top lip curled in a snarl. When his sights landed on her, casually leaning against the water tower with her arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed and he spit on the ground in her direction before thrashing against the rope again.

“Cyka!”

“Hello to you too, Dimi.”

Matt tilted his head slightly in her general direction over his shoulder.

“You just gonna stand there?”

She casually shrugged her shoulders and gestured towards Dimitri with her chin.

“You wanted to take the lead. Take the lead.”

“I don’t speak Russian.”

“Oh, he speaks English. He’s just being shy.”

Dimitri shouted more curses in Russian, and the old metal of the water tower creaked and groaned under the weight of his hopeless endeavor to free himself. Matt took a step closer and swiftly struck his fist across his face, and the metallic tang of blood permeated the air.

“Where’s Tarasov?”

Dimitri narrowed his eyes as he sneered at Matt.

“Never heard of him.”

“Now Dimi, you know lying is a sin.”

She taunted him with a slight smirk as she took a few steps closer. Dimitri let out a dry chuckle that rumbled deep from within his chest.

“I am not afraid of Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. What is he going to do, call me names?”

Dimitri let out another dry chuckle and gestured his chin towards Matt, his top lip curled in another snarl.

“You hit like girl. You are no real threat. You are no Punisher.”

Matt tilted his head to the side for a moment, a devilish smirk slowly tugging at the edge of his mouth as he spoke in a condescending tone.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Did you want it harder?”

Without warning, he struck his fist across Dimitri’s face again, and this time there was a satisfying crack that indicated a tooth being knocked loose. Dimitri groaned, and he coughed as he spat out blood along with a cracked tooth. Matt gripped Dimitir’s hair and yanked his head back as he took a step closer, his voice dropping an octave lower with a dangerous edge of warning. 

“Now, I’m gonna ask you again, and if you cooperate, I might let you walk away from this roof instead of tossing you off of it.”

Dimitri let out another deep chuckle that rumbled in his chest, causing him to cough, and he looked right into the dark lenses of Matt’s cowl with a bloodstained grin.

“I have counter proposal. Go fuck yourself.”

Matt clenched his jaw and let out a growl of frustration as he gripped Dimitri’s hair even harder and smashed his face against one of the metal bars of the water tower, and the crunch of his nose breaking was audible even to her. 

“You might as well kill me. I will not tell you shit.”

Slipping her hand under the hem of her dress, she pulled out the small knife she kept strapped to her thigh, and she rounded Dimitri before she raised the sharp blade to the rope, speaking calmly in his ear.

“You and I both know death isn’t a threat. It’s mercy. And the devil doesn’t grant mercy to the wicked.”

Dimitri lifted his chin defiantly and spoke through gritted teeth.

“I will die before I talk.”

As she looked over at Matt, he gave her a subtle nod.

“Have it your way.”

Cutting through the rope, Dimitri’s arms dropped from above his head, but before he could even make a move, Matt shoved his boot against his chest in a swift forceful kick that cracked three of Dimitri’s ribs and sent him stumbling backwards. The second he hit the ledge, he fell backwards over the rooftop, and a startled yell pierced through the bustling noise of the city on his way down until it was abruptly cut off with a thud.

Taking a few steps towards the ledge, she peered over it down below, and then she turned to look at Matt over her shoulder, arching one of her brows.

“You know, leaving someone paralyzed in a dumpster isn’t exactly morally superior to a bullet to the head.” 

“It is if you’re Catholic.”

She couldn’t help but let out a snort of amusement at that, shaking her head in disbelief.

“So it was those religious loopholes that prepared you for becoming a lawyer, not Columbia.”

“Bit of both.”

Matt focused his senses on Dimitri down below. That telltale metallic tang of blood was stronger in the air, and he could tell a few bones had been broken by the fall, but he was still conscious. He let out a deep exhale of frustration. He could practically hear the words running through her head that she wasn’t saying. 

I told you so.

God he really hated that she was constantly right.

“We need to change tactics.”

“But you were doing so well.”

Matt grunted in annoyance as he placed his hands on his hips and let his head drop between his shoulders, turning it from side to side to crack his weary bones.

“Can we skip the petty gloating, alright? I get it. You were right and I was wrong. That what you wanna hear?”

“Can I get that in writing?”

Matt grit his teeth so hard it made his jaw ache, and he dipped his head back towards the heavens while clenching his fists at his sides, the worn leather creaking under the force of his frustration.

“For fucks sake-”

“Relax, Matthew. You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm. I have a backup plan.”

As she started to saunter towards the rooftop door that led to the staircase, Matt turned his head in her direction, completely perplexed by that admission.

“Backup plan? What backup plan?”

“One of many. If it doesn’t work, I have backup plans for my backup plans.”

Matt let out a dry scoff and started to follow after her.

“Sounds like anxiety.”

“It’s called preparation. You should try it instead of just parkouring around Hell’s Kitchen and beating the shit out of everyone.”

Matt pursed his lips in a firm line as he let out an irritated grunt, smacking his gloved hand against the rooftop door right when she started to open it, keeping it shut.

“And were you gonna tell me about this backup plan?”

“No.”

Matt pulled a face at her blunt reply that she could read even with half of his face covered. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Everytime I tell you the plan, you change it and do whatever you want instead.”

Matt couldn’t argue with that. Letting out a deep sigh, he gestured between the two of them with his gloved hand.

“What if…what if we came up with one together.”

“Are you going to actually listen to me?”

Matt grumbled under his breath like a petulant child and rolled his eyes under his cowl.

“Within reason.”

Shifting her weight to her other foot, she kept her arms crossed over her chest and arched one of her brows while staring him down, faintly cocking her head to the side. Letting out another frustrated exhale through his nose, he threw his hands up in defiant surrender.

“Alright, fine. Let’s hear it.”

“There’s one thing that Dimitri Sokolov values above everything. More than money, more than his reputation, even more than respect.”

Matt’s annoyance was quickly replaced by curiosity, and he perked up as he began to wonder where she was going with this.

“What?”

“Loyalty.”

Matt wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that, but he had a feeling her plan required more brain than brawn. She looked him up and down in his Daredevil suit before turning on her heel.

“Leave the horns at home. I need Matt Murdock for this one.”

tags: @the-swift-escape @lambmurdock @lunakkey @Lfdybadgirlsdiw @devilmurdock64 @moonyinthestars @suits-and-smirks @day-dreaming-goddess @natashasotherhalf @rebel13lion39 @pixelfaery @ebsmind @mattmurdocksscars @ahhhhhhhydbhdg @ayupcap @thepassionatereader @awenthealchemist @zomtart @superrbffun @buckypops @snicksbabe @redroomproperty @angel113431 @18raven @a-sunflower-in-bloom @shadypaperwitch @lizziela @givemylovetoall @dreadfulxives18 @jjprxntiss @bigratbitchsworld @s1xthirty @daisy-the-quake @raven18 @hipwell @scorpiovelaryon @yiiiikesmish @mel-thefrog @ponyosmom35 @daisydark @xoxabs88xox @punkshyteee @abbyhaslongshorts @wolvierinee @snowflames-world @yomnajir @fries11 @groovycass

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[elvenferretots]

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[claramelooo]

HEYYY! It's me again! I'm so happy with all the support words and the great proportion this story is taking that I got excited and I just want write more and more to you guys!! (I'm vacations btw lol)

First of all, I would like to say that I don't know much about the US admission system, so if I got it wrong, please correct me.

Second, if you have any suggestions to improve the story's progress or speed up my writing, feel free to contact me.

Last but not least: enjoy it and comment plsss <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Paring: Mommy Dom Wanda x Brat Fem reader

WARNING: +18

Summary : Wanda wraps you in the web she has created.

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 – Predator | Part 3 - On your knees

Velvet Chains

The Prey

It was around 3 a.m., and Wanda sighed, staring at the ceiling of the bedroom. The silence was broken only by the lazy whirring of the fan. Vision lay asleep beside her, turned away, breathing deeply. The space between them on the bed felt like an unbridgeable chasm. She turned her head to look at him for a moment but felt a weight in her chest as she realized there was no warmth there, no real connection.

Sex with Vision had always been… functional, almost mechanical. It was always about him—his needs, his desires. There were moments when she tried to convince herself that this was normal, that love was above all a commitment, but nights like this made it clear: something was terribly wrong.

Wanda shut her eyes tightly, trying to push away the frustration building up inside her. It wasn’t just the sex. It was everything. The suffocating predictability, the lack of intensity, the absence of something she had never been able to name but missed with an almost painful ferocity.

And then there was you.

The memory of your face, the way you looked at her during dinner, came rushing back like a storm. Your eyes held a mix of defiance and uncertainty—something Wanda couldn’t get out of her mind. Since seeing you, there had been a growing need inside her, something primal and overwhelming. It wasn’t just desire—though that was undeniable. It was the way you made her feel, as if she were alive for the first time in years.

Wanda sat up in bed, running her hands through her hair, frustrated with herself. It was wrong. That much was obvious. You were young, inexperienced—a delicate soul who deserved freedom, not the weight of the obsession she felt growing inside her.

But the more she tried to rationalize, the more inevitable it seemed. There was something about you—your innocence mixed with a quiet resilience, as if the world couldn’t break you, no matter how hard it tried. It was hypnotic. She wanted to shape you, to dominate your strength and fragility all at once, to explore every nuance of you until there was nothing left to hide.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she pressed her fingers against her temples, trying to stifle the thoughts.

“This has to stop,” she murmured to herself. “This isn’t who I am.”

But the truth was, she wasn’t sure who she was anymore. With Vision, with the life she had built—it all felt so distant, so colorless. And then you appeared, and the entire world gained a new vibrancy, an intensity she hadn’t realized she craved until she felt it.

She looked at Vision again, still turned away, still oblivious to the storm raging beside him. For a moment, Wanda felt a wave of guilt, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. Because the reality was clear: she would never feel whole with Vision.

The clock read 3:23 a.m. when Wanda slipped out of bed, her bare feet meeting the cold floor. She needed space, needed to think, but she knew that every step she took was leading her deeper into dangerous territory—a path of no return.

Reaching the living room, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey—Vision only drank it to celebrate work promotions—and took a swig straight from the bottle, hoping to drown out the chaotic thoughts of you, of Vision, of herself.

But they didn’t go away.

As the alcohol coursed through her veins, Wanda felt her body float. And then, she felt ready to do something she had never done before. With trembling hands from adrenaline and excitement, Wanda picked up her laptop from the coffee table and searched for what had been on her mind since the moment she first laid eyes on you.

The video was artificial, the expressions of pleasure fake, the moans hollow. But the scene itself sparked Wanda’s imagination.

She pictured you moaning beneath her as she slid a good, thick strap inside your tight little pussy, pinning your arms above your head, leaving you completely at her mercy. She imagined slapping your pretty face until you gave in, sticking your tongue out to accommodate her fingers, letting her lubricate them before slowly sliding them into your tight little ass, driving you wild.

Denying you orgasms until you begged her with teary, pleading eyes. Pushing you until you finally said the one word you so desperately needed to say—and that she so desperately needed to hear.

Wanda also fantasized about riding your face, making you drown in her wet pussy, suffocating on her juices. Marking your neck and chest with bruises she would proudly touch the next day.

These thoughts alone were enough to make Wanda forget the adult film on her screen and focus entirely on you. Her fingers worked diligently over her clit, her body trembling as the signs of orgasm built within her. Moments later, she came, her eyes rolling back, her legs shaking.

Oh, fuck. She had to have you soon.

 [...]

The city library was a sanctuary of sacred silence, where whispered voices mingled with the soft rustle of turning pages. You had returned to the country with a single purpose: to study. Your mother never missed a chance to remind you that your bright future hinged on a prestigious university. But after everything, Yale felt like an unattainable dream.

Not anymore.

You still had a chance to transfer and adapt to a new routine—though adjusting had never been hard for you. You’d spent your 18th birthday alone, blowing out the candle on a strawberry cupcake someone had given you, wishing for the power to change your life.

And now, here it was.

Determined, you worked tirelessly to achieve an excellent GPA, nurtured relationships with your professors, and spent the remaining months meticulously preparing your early decision application.

Then came the waiting—waiting and waiting for that damn call. Time passed. You turned 20—too old for a Christian boarding school, too young to face the world—and found yourself staring out of the same window.

When your father finally called, his expressionless voice carried the weight of your shattered dreams.

And now, here you were, standing before an old building with beautiful architecture that probably held some intriguing history. With a pile of notebooks and a battered binder in hand, you pushed open the heavy doors and stepped into the library's main hall. The comforting scent of aged paper and polished wood enveloped you.

The plan was straightforward: find a corner, avoid distractions, and lose yourself in formulas, essays, and reading lists for the next few hours.

But fate, it seemed, had other ideas.

As soon as you entered, your eyes locked onto something—or rather, someone—that made your stomach churn. Behind the lending counter stood Wanda Maximoff.

She wore thin glasses that only accentuated the intensity of her piercing gaze. Her hair was tied back haphazardly, loose strands framing her face. When you walked in, she looked up, and a dangerous spark flashed in her eyes—something intense, hypnotic, and unnervingly expectant.

It was as though she’d known you were coming.

You felt the shift in the atmosphere before you could process it. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction—dangerous, predatory.

"Oh, my, my… What a surprise," Wanda murmured, her voice low and sweet, yet carrying an underlying weight that twisted your stomach. She left her computer and moved toward you, hands clasped in front of her like she owned the place.

You cursed softly.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Dekta?” she asked, her accent curling around your name in a way that made your core tighten despite your best efforts.

“I’m here to study.”

“Ah, yes… Yale, isn’t it?” Her lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer, making your fists clench at your sides. “Your parents mentioned it,” she mused. “I admire ambition—though ambition without focus is a waste, don’t you think?”

Your eyes narrowed. "I have focus."

She took another step closer, her presence suffocating. “Do you now?”

“I’m not a child, Wanda,” you snapped—perhaps a bit too loudly for a space that demanded quiet.

For a brief moment, her pupils expanded, eclipsing the green in her eyes. If you weren’t so innocent, you might have seen the excitement pooling in her gaze. But you felt it—the way your body betrayed you, heat pooling low in your belly, your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your bra.

Her expression shifted, the intensity replaced by a false, sugary smile.

“Oh, of course, because you’re such a big girl now, aren’t you?” Wanda tilted her head, her tone deceptively kind but dripping with condescension. Her eyes seemed to dissect you, reading your every reaction like an open book.

“I’m an adult,” you retorted, forcing your voice to remain steady. “I don’t need anyone treating me like I’m still in a school uniform.”

Wanda’s steps were deliberate as she sidled past you, gesturing lazily to a nearby table. “An adult, you say? Funny, because what I see…” Her gaze swept over you and then to the table, “…is a little girl with big dreams, crumbling at the slightest challenge.”

Your entire body tensed. You loathed the way she spoke to you, as though she had the right to dissect your maturity.

“You don’t know me,” you shot back, defensive.

“Don’t I?” She raised an eyebrow, her smile slow and menacing. “Then why are you trembling, Dekta?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the words caught in your throat. She was right. Your hands, clutching the binder, were trembling slightly, your heart pounding too fast.

Wanda noticed. Of course, she noticed.

“See?” she whispered, stepping closer, her voice soothing yet laced with control as she reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Adult or not, you still have a lot to learn.” Her words dropped to a murmur, almost too soft to hear: “And I’ll teach you everything.”

Before you could react, Wanda straightened, creating distance as she adjusted her glasses—a deliberate motion that left you inexplicably yearning for her touch again.

“Now, find your table and study. Show me this sharp ambition of yours.”

“You don’t control me,” you snapped, anger flaring briefly.

She chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. “Oh, Dekta… I don’t have to. You’re already doing exactly what I want.”

With that, she turned and walked back to the counter, leaving you trembling and unsettled, as though you’d just lost a game you didn’t know you were playing.

After 40 minutes of calming down and trying to stop thinking about the woman, you finally manage to focus and regain control of your thoughts. Math had always been something very abstract to you, perhaps even more so than philosophy. There was something about numbers that seemed to elude the logic of your brain, as if every equation were a puzzle with its solution written in a language you couldn't quite comprehend.

You sigh, your eyes fixed on the book's page, where a series of elegantly aligned formulas stared back at you with an almost cruel indifference. It had always been this way. Essays were your forte—your words flowed like a river, structured and persuasive, but numbers? They slipped through your fingers like sand.

With the pencil in your hand, you begin to scribble what seemed to be the first step toward a solution, but your mind soon wavers. Math, with all its precision, left little room for intuition. Every mistake was exposed, every misstep impossible to hide. You had always hated that.

Suddenly, Wanda's presence invades your thoughts again, like a shadow you can't escape. The way she looked at you, as if she knew exactly where your weaknesses lay. Worse, as if she was willing to exploit them.

You shake your head, trying to banish her image, but it’s useless. It’s as if she were still there, standing behind you, watching, waiting for you to fail.

And maybe that was exactly what you needed.

"Okay," you whisper to yourself, turning the page of the notebook with more determination. "This isn't about her. This is about me."

Your strength had always been your ability to adapt and overcome challenges. No matter how impossible something seemed, you had an inner resilience that kept you trying. That was what made you special, even when everything seemed against you.

But that strength came at a price. You were stubborn, almost obsessive, and the idea of failing—for yourself, for your parents, for Wanda—was intolerable. That need to prove your worth, to be good enough, was both a gift and a curse.

Feeling a touch on your shoulder, you jump as if you’d been shocked. Looking at the hand that touched you, it belonged to an elderly woman with a friendly expression on her face.

"Looks like your study session was productive, right?" the lady asked in a voice trembling with age. You simply nodded, still confused by the sudden approach. "But I must inform you, dear. We’re closing now."

"Oh. Yes, of course… I’m sorry," you said as you stood, hastily packing your belongings. "I didn’t even notice the time." You offered an embarrassed explanation.

The lady just laughed, sweetly.

"It's all right! Wanda asked us not to disturb you," she said as if it were nothing, but for you… you felt your pulse quicken with your heartbeat, felt your heart warm at Wanda's indirect gesture.

You looked around, hoping Wanda would appear again to provoke you—to make you surrender to her dominant aura.

But with a click, the library lights turned off, leaving you alone with your confused thoughts.

Letting out a tired sigh, you enter your house. Today had been exhausting, but your mind was at peace from finally breaking out of your loop of procrastination and self-sabotage. It was draining, but it was gratifying—enough to make you proud of yourself.

Arriving in the living room, you see your mother smiling, which makes you raise an eyebrow at her unusual gesture. Noticing you, she stood up, laughing.

"Sweetheart! Come here!" she called, making grand gestures that filled the room.

As you reached the center of the living room, you saw her.

There she was. Wanda Maximoff, sitting in your living room as if she owned the place. Her posture was impeccable—relaxed, but not sloppy. Long legs crossed, her expression composed. She held a teacup in her left hand, her long fingers resting on the porcelain as if it were a luxury item.

Your heart raced. You froze in the doorway, looking from your mother to Wanda and back to your mother.

“Oh, sweetheart, finally!” your mother exclaimed, her voice full of enthusiasm. "I can hardly believe our luck. Wanda offered to help you with your studies! You know how much I worry about your preparation for Yale, and now she's willing to guide you!"

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. Everything felt like a blur. Wanda? The woman who had just turned your afternoon into an emotional whirlwind? Now she was here, in your house, looking more dangerous than ever?

"I simply did what anyone would," Wanda replied, her voice soft but firm. The tone carried a duality: apparent humility, but a pride you could feel beneath the surface. She rose slowly, placing the teacup on the coffee table. Her gaze met yours, and you felt that same shiver from the library.

"Good evening, Dekta," she said with an intonation that made your skin tingle. “I hope you don’t mind my visit. Your mother and I were discussing how I might be helpful for your academic ambitions.”

“Of course,” you responded automatically, trying to keep your composure. “Thank you so much for your help, Wanda.”

Wanda smiled, a small, calculated smile. There was no genuine warmth in it, only something... satisfying. As if she were celebrating an invisible victory.

"In fact," she continued, taking a step closer to you, "I thought we could make this mutually beneficial. Your studies require dedication, and I noticed you have potential. In exchange for my guidance, perhaps you could help me a few hours a week at the library. There are tasks that require... youthful energy."

Your mother seemed more than thrilled with the idea. “Oh, that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? You’d spend more time learning, in such an inspiring environment!”

You knew you had no choice. Your mother was already beaming, and any refusal would be a family disaster. But above that, there was Wanda, with that look that seemed to pierce your soul, as if she knew that deep down, you didn’t want to refuse either.

"Sure," you finally replied, trying to sound neutral. “That sounds great.”

Wanda took a small step back, satisfied. "Excellent. We’ll start tomorrow."

Your mother clapped her hands, excited. "I’m so proud of you, sweetheart! And so grateful, Wanda, for being willing to help my baby.”

Hearing your mother’s last words, Wanda’s body tensed, clearly disliking the way she referred to you.

Wanda looked at you again, placing a light smile on her face, but her eyes... they had an almost predatory gleam.

“It will be my pleasure,” she said, but you knew there was much more to that phrase than your mother could understand. "Well, it’s late, and I still need to put Tommy and Billy to bed. S/n, would you walk me to the door?"

Finally, you snapped out of your trance upon hearing your name. "O-of course."

As the older woman passed through the door, she turned to look at you again, her eyes gleaming. “You looked beautiful today, darling.”

The compliment made you blush, and the air felt thin, making it hard to breathe.

“Hmm, what do we say when we’re complimented, Dekta?” Wanda broke your trance once again, touching your chin in a firm grip, forcing you to look at her.

"Thank you, Wanda," you replied softly, in an almost submissive tone. Almost. The exhaustion of the day weighed on your shoulders, and Wanda’s sweet voice left you weak, hypnotizing you and slowly turning you into a needy kitten.

"Good girl." She caressed your face with her fingertips, almost as if you were a raw diamond—precious and ready to be shaped. By her. By her hands.

You hadn’t noticed—perhaps due to exhaustion—but Wanda's hands were trembling. The woman trembled as she touched you, as she felt the warmth emanating from your fragrant, untouched skin. Wanda felt blessed, as if finally that scared kitten was learning to trust her.

"We’ll see each other tomorrow, yes? Good night, beautiful girl." She didn’t want to say goodbye to you. She wanted to stay, make you kneel, rest your head on her lap, and stroke the top of your head to hear you purr.

The mark she left on you lingered until you fell asleep, embedding itself under your skin, making you dream of her, of her floral scent—it was something citrusy. Orange? Lemongrass, perhaps? The fragrance clung to your body, your mind, and suddenly, Yale seemed like a distant dream, and Wanda was the only thing you could dream about.

~*~

Poor S/n... A milf caught her.

Tag list <3

@rosekjsses @vyvvycg @3liyuh

If I forget someone, pls remind me in the comments!

[kittluzbills]

ugh I need some really good angst, I need something to cry for, can you make something about how H's and Y/N's relayionship is going down, something were she even left her country just to be with him but now he's barely there

sorry im just posting this. its literally been in the chamber for almost a MONTH. DON'T HATE ME!!!!

--

half a world away - h. s.

I never thought I’d be here. I thought I’d be the one who stayed by his side through everything. But somewhere between the empty promises and the nights he wasn’t home, I realized how stupid I was to believe in this. To believe in us.

I left everything behind for him. My family, my country, my whole life—all of it, just so I could be with Harry. I told myself I was doing it for love, that love would make everything worth it. But love is a funny thing when it’s not being returned the same way. When you’re the only one trying to hold it together, the only one putting in the effort, while the other person fades away right in front of you.

At first, it was magic. Late-night talks, laughing in bed until we fell asleep, mornings full of promises and plans. But now? Now, I barely recognize him. He’s hardly ever here, and when he is, it’s like he’s a stranger to me. It’s like I’m waiting for a man who’s already gone, and I don’t even know who’s left in his place.

Tonight, he came home late. I had already given up waiting for him, but I couldn’t sleep. Not when the room felt empty without him. Not when I was beginning to realize how much longer I’d been holding onto something that was slipping through my fingers.

I heard the door open and close, and the rhythmic sound of his keys jangling as he made his way down the hallway. For a second, I considered pretending to be asleep. But I couldn’t. Not anymore.

I turned over in bed, my heart pounding in my chest as I saw him standing there, looking just as tired and broken as I felt.

“You’re home late,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but it cracked anyway. I couldn't hide the hurt in my voice. I wasn’t even trying anymore.

He dropped his bag on the floor with a soft thud and walked to the edge of the bed. I didn’t look at him right away. I was scared that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from crying.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, but his voice was distant, like it didn’t even matter. “I had some work to finish up.”

“I don’t care about your work, Harry,” I said, finally turning to face him. I didn’t care anymore if my voice shook. “I care about you being here. But you’re never here. You haven’t been for so long. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

His eyes flickered to mine, but it wasn’t the way he used to look at me. There was no warmth in them. No spark. Just emptiness.

“I am here,” he said, almost defensively, but there was no real conviction behind the words. “I’m doing the best I can, okay? I’m working my ass off for us. For our future.”

“Is that what this is about?” I asked, my chest tightening. “You think all I want is a future, Harry? Is that what you really think? I want you. Right here. Right now.” I gestured around the room, the silence between us suffocating. “But you’re never here. I’ve been waiting for you for months, and every time you come back, it’s like I’m just a stranger you used to love.”

His jaw tightened, and I saw the flicker of guilt cross his face, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough anymore.

“I didn’t ask you to leave everything behind for me, Y/N,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I never asked you to drop your whole life just to be with me. But I’ve got responsibilities, I’ve got commitments. I can’t just be there every second, no matter how much I want to.”

“And what about me?” I snapped, sitting up now, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. “What about the fact that I left everything for you? I didn’t ask for your fame, or your commitments, or your career. I asked for you. Just you.”

“I’m here, okay?” he said, his voice rising with frustration, though it wasn’t directed at me. It was like he was trying to convince himself. “I am here when I can be. I can’t give you everything you want, Y/N. I can’t just drop everything, all the time. I don’t even know what you want from me anymore.”

I felt the tears welling up, but I refused to let them fall. I had already cried too many times, over too many empty promises, too many broken moments.

“You don’t even see it, do you?” I whispered, my throat tight. “I didn’t want everything. I didn’t want your career or your fame. I didn’t want your life. I wanted ours. But you don’t even see me anymore. You don’t see what it’s doing to me, the way you’re slipping away from me, piece by piece. I’m not asking for the world, Harry. I’m just asking for you to look at me like I matter. But you don’t. You don’t even care.”

I stood up, the weight of his indifference crashing down on me. My heart ached in a way that was almost unbearable.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t keep holding on when you’ve already let go. I’m done, Harry. I can’t keep waiting for someone who doesn’t even want me here.”

There was a long silence, and for a second, I thought he might say something, anything to stop me. But when he finally spoke, his words cut deeper than anything he’d said before.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, but it felt empty. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face now. “But it’s already happened, Harry. You were never here when I needed you. And now... now it’s too late.”

I grabbed my bag that I had pre-packed from the corner of the room, trying to hold it together as I turned to walk out. It was almost as if my feet were moving without me asking. Just guiding me to where my heart and soul could be at peace. But before I reached the door, I heard him call my name.

“Y/N,” his voice cracked, desperation rising in it. “Don’t go.”

But I didn’t stop.

“I’m already gone Har”

--

can't tell if i like this one or not sorry

requests are open of course. sorry for this being shit from a butt.

i love yall!!!!!!!!

xoxo, kitt

[janluxe]

𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑭𝑨𝑽𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑹 – 𝑱𝑨𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑶𝑫𝑫

– contents; angst with a sprinkle of fluff for good measures.

– summary; in their early stages of life, most humans tend to grow fond and form a kind of bond with their favorite color. It's always the same color that will either follow them or haunt them for the rest of their spent time on earth, constantly reminding them of their memories.

– word count; 1.3k

Every person has a favorite color, right?

Well, Jason didn't have a favorite color. Sure, when he was Robin, he had chosen green as his favorite of the entire color palette, one that represented his hopes for the future awaiting him.

However, after the physical and mental suffering he went through, he was just a kid trying to serve justice to the poor world under that hero mask that he once wore with pride; Joker's plans had something else in store for him. The association of the color green with the psychotic clown that haunted him and then the same situation with his resurrection in the Lazarus Pit. He no longer wanted anything to do with it.

The bitter truth is he never bothered to think about such a silly question. Yet here he was, discussing how humans have some sort of bond with their favorite color their whole life. And here you were, guessing his favorite color after you had explained to him all about yours.

Ever since he was brought back from the dead, Jason had found himself endlessly trying to understand why Bruce refused to avenge his death. Why someone who was legally considered family, who had raised him, trained him, and molded him into what he had become, refuse to overstep that stupid boundary? Maybe Jason wasn’t worth it. Not as much as Dick, who was always the golden child. Or maybe Bruce’s rule as Batman—his only rule—meant more than any bond they had ever shared. The thought of it made his chest tighten. Every time he allowed himself to drown in the idea, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that his thoughts were not true, it stung like an open wound. It was like a scar that refused to heal, a constant reminder of the life he’d lost and the man who refused to act on his behalf. It consumed him, more than he'd like to admit—this lingering doubt, this burning question that gnawed at his every thought. And the worst part was that he didn’t know how he’d ever be able to move past it.

He was overwhelmed by this trance of thoughts almost daily, especially when everything around him fell into an unsettling quiet. The silence only added to the weight of his frustration and self-doubt. He couldn’t stop wondering if Bruce had seen something in him, something different from the criminals he fought, then what made him so unworthy after his death? That day, when Bruce had found him committing a crime—a genuine crime—Jason had been desperate, angry, and broken. But hadn’t he been the same boy Bruce had taken in, trained, and called family? What had changed? Jason would search amongst any file in the Batcave to satisfy his curiosity and maybe ease his frustration. In Jason's mind, he was always the same. No matter what his title was, it never defined him as a personality – he was always rough around the edges, but he wasn't cold before.

So, matters such as favorite colors had become childish for him, and he – being the infamous Red Hood – definitely had other plans than to sit down with the only neighbor he could trust and bond within this whole building on a rooftop and discuss subjects for mere children who were just exploring their inner world.

But at least one of you found it entertaining and considered it a good way to get to know each other a little better without getting too personal or touching a sensitive subject on accident. Or so you thought. At first, you didn't quite catch the changes in his body language; how he sulked and tensed even more, making himself smaller in the space he was in every time you took a new guess.

Jason's mind spun with all these questions, and silence seemed to stretch endlessly around him. The weight of his thoughts pressed on his chest, but just as he began to slip further into his spiral of defeat, a familiar voice broke through the silence.

“Maybe... red?” Your voice snapped him out of his trance, his teal eyes finding yours while he readjusted his position to lean back on his hands in an attempt to gain time or avoid the question altogether. Soon, Jason let out a give-in sigh and subtly cocked his head to the side when he realized you wouldn't change the subject.

Jason smiled to himself, his gaze focusing on the dark night sky above the two of you for a second; the stars were barely visible tonight as anything other than his inner turmoil seemed peaceful before he looked back at you. He was processing your guess and taking his time to put his thoughts and feelings into words, which he always struggled with, and even when his sentences were formed, they couldn't leave his throat without it hurting.

The vigilante rolled his shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension that he didn't even realize was weighing down on him, his hands embracing the coldness of the concrete underneath his fingertips as he tapped a quiet melody against it and allowed the coolness of the material and the faint sounds of the City and the street below ground him.

“Sure, red.” His reply was plain, with uncertainty creeping into his voice without his notice. You noticed it no matter how much he tried to play it off, and the confusion etched on your face seemed to amuse him, if anything.

You took a second to gauze his expression before you muttered, “You don't sound very convinced.” The words in your admission hung in the air for a moment before they earned you a low, brief chuckle from the back of his throat.

Jason let out a long exhale. He earned himself some time to search his mess of a mind to find whatever he possibly could to justify the tension that stuck onto his skin with a pathetic excuse or a stupid lie that he could only hope that you'd buy without a second doubt. “I'm just not used to these kinds of conversations.” His voice remained steady, holding it together as his mind flooded with images of his past, the bright colors on the lining of his Robin suit, the greenish hue that gave his iris a sense of warmth – a time when he hadn't lost all of these things.

Of course, you noticed his hesitation once again. But pressuring people into keeping up with the conversation or the questions you throw at them isn't the best thing you can do to maintain a human relationship. “Is that the reason you chose your vigilante name? Or was it the little red riding hood?” You joked in a poor attempt to ease him with a slightly more light-hearted conversation.

Jason met your gaze for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching as he was briefly reminded of having his identity revealed to you. Then, he scoffed, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation, though the playful hint in his actions softened the edge of his response. “Please. I've got more layers to my personality than that.”

His response, though sharp, seemed to dissipate some of the tension that had settled between the two of you. The air felt a little less thick, a little less heavy. For a moment, it almost felt normal again, as if the weight of everything wasn’t pressing down on either of you.

If only he were to admit that green used to be his favorite color, of what remained of the old him anyway – but at this point, he reckoned it was time to move on from the past and let the color paint the walls of someone else's memories, someone who could still see it for the life and hope it once stood for.

– a/n; there might be some grammar and spelling mistakes. also, I wrote Jason based on the UTRH movie. either way, thank you for reading this & have a nice day ♡

[gorgenia77]

Real Man.

Hey guys! Happy New year!! One of my resolutions was to try to improve my writing, so enjoy <3 This is only part 1!!

—————————————♡︎——————————

Summary: Seth was your best friend. The type of person you’d have to try extra hard to not be comfortable with. The friend you felt like you had known forever. However, when you got a new boyfriend, he couldn’t say he liked it very much.

Warnings! - Mainly just fluff, maybe kinda angst. Eventually smut, jealousy, shitty boyfriend.

Pairing: Seth Rollins x f/reader (best friends)

————————————♡︎————————————

Seth was your best friend. The type of guy you could play fight with, borrow (and rarely return) his CDs, cry in front of him, and rot on the couch whilst playing video games for hours.

He felt like the type of friend you’ve know your whole life. That kid who you never met, but always knew. The kid who’d you’d have embarrassing photos with through the awkward stages of your life. That’s how it felt with Seth, even though you’d only met during both of your come ups, he felt like that kid you randomly made friends with at the age of four. A real sandbox friendship.

Seth was someone you’d always go to first. Good news, bad news, comfort, fun. He was your man. But he was just that, your best friend who you adored and hated, when he’d tease you with embarrassing photos and get way to competitive when playing uno.

This wasn’t exactly the same story Seth would tell though. Seth would say, you were his best friend when asked, but in his gut, the things he felt were indescribable. He had no problems lending you his CDs, which he probably never see again, or nodding his head understandably as you cried. It felt natural, just like a real good friend. That was until your boyfriend popped up on the scene.

He knew he should happy for you. If it were Dean or Roman who had scored a date he’d be the first one to make a big deal and feel happy for them. So when you told him you had a date, he felt a pit in his stomach. A pit that only confused him more. Why did he feel sick? Was this just a sexist male thing, he questioned himself. Why did he feel differently about you going on a date? The confusion of his frustration only frustrating him more. He put on a brave face and tried to be happy for you and push this weird feeling aside.

A couple months later and you were in a full committed relationship.

With Seth being such an important character in your life, you wanted the two to get on. To be able to have a fun games night with your best friend and boyfriend. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case. For some reason they didn’t click. Seth had pulled you aside a couple times telling you he didn’t like this guy. There was something about this guy that rubbed him the wrong way. You chalked it up to Seth just being worried you’d forget about his friendship and begged him to try and be supportive.

The last thing Seth ever wanted to do was make you distant yourself from him, so, he didn’t like your boyfriend. Not one bit. But he did try his best to tolerate him, despite the irritation that graced his mind as he saw his hand on your waist or the way he’d whisper in your ear to get you to stop talking. It drove him crazy. But, he’d bite his tongue, tense his jaw, and remove himself. Because ultimately, being close to you was his only concern.

You’d been dating your boyfriend for a couple of months but recently you’d started to have a few problems within your relationship. Your boyfriend just seemed, uninterested. He’d be occupied when you’d make the effort to make a sweet dinner at home with a nice wine, but you sort of felt like a bored toy. Like a toy that gets played with on Christmas morning, and shoved in the bottom of a toy box by the new year. You hesitated about telling Seth. You wanted to tell someone about it, just to get it off your chest, but you also knew Seth already didn’t like him, and did you really want to add fuel to the fire?

One night you two were sat in a pizza place late at night as you normally did on a Friday night. You sipped your drink and spoke down at the table “This might sound stupid, but. When you’re in a relationship, are you supposed to get bored?”

Seth paused for a second before continuing to chew the fries in his mouth. The pizza place was practically empty, so the silence accompanied with his chewing felt a million times louder.

He scanned your face as you looked at him shyly.

“Why, he bore you already?” He joked, amusement and slightly hope in his eyes.

You let out a sigh and sat up straight, now fully looking at him, a small pout on your lips “No. But I feel like he’s bored of me.”

Seth furrowed his brows before speaking immediately. “Nah, doubt it.” He didn’t even entertain the idea, not for a second. It seemed ridiculous.

His straight denial peaked your curiosity. “But, he just doesn’t seem, there. You know?” You said tried to explain.

Seth stiffened slightly. “Look, I doubt he’s bored of you. I mean, that would be ridiculous. Maybe he just thinks he’s already impressed you enough.” He said, a judgement present under his helpful tone. Before you could speak he spoke again. “Which is stupid.” he said playing with his fries.

You didn’t really bring it up again. Knowing Seth didn’t like your boyfriend just kinda made things awkward, so instead you decided to try and limit the amount you spoke about him around Seth. That didn’t stop Seth from prying through.

He’d catch himself asking questions like:

“How much can he lift?”

“Does he even listen to the music you like?”

“Does he know your favourite movie?”

He hadn’t even realised the prominent jealousy in his voice. The questions would just slip into his mind, and put his mouth, part of his mind hoping that your boyfriend did know the answers. That maybe Seth frustrated simply just came from concern and nothing more. Just good old friendly concern. Right?

Your boyfriend would come see your matches occasionally. Even then he’d mainly end up talking about himself and something he’d done that week, nothing but a small congrats after your incredible win. It was something that annoyed you a bit, but in comparison it was something that made Seth’s blood boil. Your boyfriend irritated Seth so much he’d have to physically walk away when he joined a conversation. He couldn’t help it.

————————————♡ ︎----------------------------

During the next week, it was an awards night. A night where all the wrestlers joined together with a small red carpet, photos, awards, drinks and partying. Needless to say you were very much excited. You hadn’t shut up about it to your friends. “You sound like a little kid waiting for Christmas” Seth chuckled as you rambled about what you were going to wear and how you’d do your hair. Despite the extent to you rambling, Seth would find himself gazing at you with a small smile as you spoke. He found you adorable. The way you would get so excited about something and just have to make it his problem too. You’d done the same with your boyfriend, who didn’t really enjoy the persistent talk of an award night as much. One night as your told him in detail your plans for the award night he cut you off “Okay, okay. You know what I’ll be there. So, just calm down a bit. Yeah?”

As it came to the night, you were ecstatic. Your long body con dress fit perfectly, you’d styled your hair in a way that made you look like you had stepped out a hair commercial. And well, your makeup looked just as good. You waited by the door eagerly as you checked your phone to see if there were any texts from your boyfriend, telling you where he was.

You grabbed your purse anxiously, a smile only appearing on your face when Seth pulled in to your drive way. He got out the car with a big grin and pulled you in for a hug, telling how pretty you looked. He looked gorgeous too. His matching black suit with the matching tie. Considering he knew how much this night meant to you, and because your boyfriend didn’t drive, he’d agreed to drive you both to the event. Which was purely for your benefit. He’d be on his best behaviour he promised you. No snarky comments or rudeness. Just civil. If you were happy tonight, so was he.

“You exited?” he asked with a grin looking down at you. You nodded but your eyes said a different thing. Seth noticed it was just you stood there, your boyfriend no where to be found. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He said with furrowed brows. Your lack of enthusiasm confusing him, he thought you’d be the first one in the car, beaming with excitement. Yet here you were. Stood, checking your phone nervously.

You shook your head, realising you were probably being paranoid. “It’s just uh, he’s not here yet. He said he’d be here on time and he’s not.” Seth sighed a little bit but agreed to wait for him, again, he was trying to be patient because he knew how much this night meant to you. You two waited for a while, leaving your boyfriend 3 missed class and 24 texts. You turned to Seth with a slight anxious look, masked by excitement. “let’s go, I’ll just tell him to meet us there. He can get a cab or something.”

Nodding with a small smile he agreed. As much as he disliked your boyfriend and he was glad he didn’t have to drive him, he was bothered by him not showing up. For your feelings, of course. Trying to push your worry away as you stepped into the car next to him, you cranked the music up, making Seth look at you with a grin. As you drove you found yourself staring at him. The way his beautiful nose curved when looking at his side profile, the way his thighs looked in his suit pants as he drove with his legs spread. You shook your head at yourself, what on earth were you playing at?

But honestly, distracting yourself with your best friends incredible appearance made you feel a whole lot better than worrying where the hell your boyfriend was.

The night when on, you had photos, caught up with some people, drank. It should have been the perfect night. But instead, you felt yourself either looking around or looking at your phone to see where your boyfriend was. He promised he’d be there, and yet he was nowhere to be found. Seth had noticed the way you gripped your phone in your hand all the night, and honestly, he was getting pretty fed up. He knew how much you loved this night, it’s all you had spoke about for weeks. Yet somehow amongst all the balloons, party decorations, dim lighting and expensive dresses and suits, you were completely out of the moment. In years previous you would have had so much fun you wouldn’t even know or care where your phone was. He tapped your shoulder as you looked down at your phone, only bringing your head up on the second tap.

“Hey, come on. The awards are about to start.”

You nodded up at him as you took a seat next to him as the show started. Midway through you felt like you needed to check, was he still coming? Coming to congratulate you? As you pulled at your phone, Seth had reached the end of his tether. Frustrated, he took the phone at your hand whilst staring straight ahead at the stage.

You looked at him with slightly shock, he’d just taken your phone like it was nothing. “Seth, what the hell? Give it back.” You whispered as someone on stage was receiving their award. He ignored you as he and the rest of the crowd started to clap. You furrowed your brows and also joined in reluctantly. As the clapping stopped you turned to him again

“Seriously Seth, give it back.”

He turned his head to you, his voice low and quiet but stern “No. you can have it back later. It’s ruining your night.”

You stared at him in shock a little, but mainly embarrassment. Like you’d just got caught, the way a bunny would freeze when it’s met with a fox. “Okay. But I just need to see if-“

He cut you off, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours as he continued to speak quietly “If he comes he comes. If he doesn’t, he’s an asshole. But I’m here with you, okay?”

You felt yourself feel reassured but also again slightly guilty. You nodded your head and decided he was right. Instead of worrying about where he was you should enjoy your night, with the people who cared and loved for you. Your friends. Seth.

Just then, you got called up for an award. You felt a hint of anxiety but also excitement. You made your way upstage with a nervous smile as your eyes immediately fell on Seth, his big grin catching your eye, full of pride and warmth.

As the announcer read your award and handed it to you, it felt like amongst the cheers and applauses, Seth was the loudest. Seth’s smile of joy and his claps seem to echo to you.

As you made your way down off the stage and back to your seat, his eyes didn’t leave you. His gaze followed you like a shooting star. As you sat down with a little proud smile, he gently pulled you into a side hug, whispering into your ear subtly “Congratulations. You really deserve it.”

The feeling of his lips so close to your ear, the way he looked, the environment, it made you feel. Different. The way the whispers shot straight to your lower abdomen and your mind went a bit fuzzy as you continued to try and enjoy the show as normal.

A while later you had a couple more drinks, but mainly had been on the dance floor, without a single care. You even dragged Seth up with you, who mainly laughed at the way your hips swayed with confidence. It was a goodnight. You’d not forgotten about your boyfriend, just decided you weren’t going to let it spoil your night. That was until you and Seth had gone outside to get some air. As you two spoke amidst the cool air, a car pulled up. Stepping out was a heavily drunk guy, in very casual clothes. It was none other than your boyfriend.

You felt pure rage. How dare he ignore you, blow you off to clearly get drunk somewhere else, and then have the audacity to show up at the end of the night?

Before Seth could even stop you, you marched up to him. “What the fuck are you playing at? Where have you been?!” There was so much anger and hurt in your voice, making Seth step forward just in case he needed to intervene.

Your boyfriend slurred his words whilst chuckling. “Woah, calm down lady. I, I was out with the boys”

The way he mocked you, to your face, made you want to slap him. “You promised me you’d be here. To see my award!”

The upset you felt was nothing compared to Seth’s. The way your boyfriend had no consideration for your time, efforts or emotions pissed him off to a whole other degree.

He stood in, gently guiding you back so he was face to face with your boyfriend. “Hey man, how about you do us all a favour, and fuck off.” His voice appeared collected but anyone could see the boiling rage behind his clenched jaw.

Seth’s words caught you off guard slightly, but you didn’t say a word. Just stood back and watched. Your boyfriend tried to argue back but Seth had enough, pushing him back. “Get out of here man before I fuck you up myself.” He yelled, making your boyfriend stumble back with a cocky chuckle. He held his hands up and stumble off.

As Seth turned around to you, he could see the way your eyes turned glassy. The way your lips frowned at the corners. You felt a tear release from your eyes. Maybe the alcohol fuelled the way you couldn’t hang on to your emotions, or maybe it was just the pure realisation that Seth had always been right. Your boyfriend was just an asshole. No excuses, no reasons. He just didn’t care.

Seeing the wetness on your cheek made Seth’s stomach flip. Sure he’s seen you cry before, but this was different. He walked back to you and brought your head to his chest as he hugged you, his hand securely on the back of your head.

“Hey, cmon. It’s okay. Don’t cry.” He said softly against your head.

After wetting his shirt with your tears, you looked up at him, as he gently sat you down on a wall outside. Eventually you collected yourself, wiping your eyes.

“Fuck did I stain my mascara?” You said through a sniff.

He shook his head with an amused smile. He gently wiped a small black smudge near your eye with his thumb. “Nope. You still look perfect”

The way his eyes looked into yours and the protective thumb that graced your cheek, you felt your chest tighten. He was here. Seth was always there.

“I feel like such an idiot.” You muttered, the thoughts of how you stared at your phone in hopes he’d be there. It made you want to hide your face in your hands when you realised how silly you looked, pining for his appearance when he didn’t really care about this award night. How silly you felt that you were busy wondering where your boyfriend was when Seth was right there.

“Aw hey come on. Enough of that. If anyone’s the idiot here, it’s that loser.” He paused searching your face, his voice getting softer. “I mean it. What kind of idiot blows of an incredible girl like you?”

You stared up at him, his words making that flutter feeling in your stomach return. You couldn’t help but stare back into his brown eyes, watching his pupils dilate slightly.

“Thanks Seth.” Your voice was barely a whisper, your brain too preoccupied with how beautiful he looked in this light, how soft his aura felt to actually form a sentence.

Seth didn’t respond, his eyes set on your face. He moved closer, gently cupping your jaw. Neither one of you dared to speak. Your words stuck in your throat and your head felt light.

The way your eyes were draw to the sight of his lips felt like you’d been possessed. Possessed by blinding reality. It felt like forever as you stared at each other, his touch burning on you face as you felt your face growing hot.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours. You hesitated before pulling back and looked at him. There was a slightly worry in his eyes as you pulled back. However this was quickly eased as you brought him back to yours lips, kissing him harder.

Before you knew it, his hands were touching your lower back and hips, his fingers dancing along the fabric of your dress as his tongue danced with yours.

————————————♡-︎————————————

I hope you enjoyed!! Part two should be out soon <3 If you liked this, a reblog would mean a lot, thanks! xox

[casliveblog]

(I literally just finished Utena and I did a mini-rant about this partway through about some of the side characters but there's a theme the finale episodes also put on Utena herself and I think it's really neat.

The idea of ego warping otherwise noble goals is really kinda neat, it's something that really became popular when Madoka Magica did the whole 'are you doing good things because they're good or because you want to be praised and feel good for them?' question and I think that is something that each of the characters in Utena also struggle with. In my first rant I only did it for the males about how their feelings are very genuine but their egos warp their actions and it makes for a more nuanced picture of male abuse than the usual "Men will hurt you because this is the Lifetime Channel" type of thing. Miki does genuinely care for Anthy but is too tied up in his idea of what she should be and his own family issues that he's projecting more of what 'she wants' onto her than Utena who's more generally just trying to make sure Anthy has a speck of agency in a world that's trying to rob her of it. Sayonji's just kind of a wreck on general but to the extent he does have genuine care for people like Anthy and Wakaba it gets filtered through his own frustrations and feelings of inadequacy and how that translates to a heightened self-image to puff out his chest about. Touga has very deep genuine feelings for Utena but can't get past his pride enough to see her as anything more than a prize to be won. This is literally like 90% of Ruka's character as he has so much ego shielding that he does the opposite of what he really wants every step of the way and we only learn about the real him through someone else after he's already dead. Juri gets a little less of this than most but tends to trip over herself with the 'I want the one I love to have love' schtick where she's putting up too much of a front and can't be honest enough with herself to commit to this toxic relationship or fully pull herself free from it till the end.

But the reason I'm even repeating myself on half these characters is because we revisit that theme in the end with Utena, we get hammered in at every turn that she wants to be a Prince and when we finally see why she wants that it's both more noble and more delusional than we've come to expect. There's an optimistic way to look at it that says Utena saw Anthy suffering and her first instinct was to help in any way she can and this isn't false, it's very true that Utena's unfailing nobility is what allows her to overcome her challenges, but she's also confronted with the idea that she latched onto the idea of Princehood because she was saved and wants to just basically be the person who saved her, despite that person themselves being deeply flawed (A little Fate Zero theming in there for spice) she gets a little bit of a savior complex the way guys in classic lterature feel like it's the noblest thing in the world to find a hooker with a heart of gold and 'rehabilitate' her so they can soak up all those chivalry points. Her goals and even her methods aren't wrong but she still has that bit of ego attached to them. There's a reason in Purgatorio the last thing you have to do to get to Heaven is jump through the fires that burn away your Pride and it's the one trial no one is exempt from, and it's this final challenge that burns away Utena's pride and it's just... talking with Anthy, them being honest about their situation and owning up to their subconscious intentions, it's not something to stop trying and hide in shame over but it's something to acknowledge. And I feel like that's why she was able to open the door when Dios couldn't, it literally purified her love absent ego and shame, his flaw was thinking he needed something more than love, of thinking it was him that was lacking and of thinking only power could save her. Utena's love for Anthy is love for its own sake, not because she was someone that she met at a pivotal point in her life that she's projecting her dreams on, not for feeling shame for her pain as Dios did, just because she likes her, being with her makes her happy and she values Anthy as a person and is able to be honest about what she wants and why and I just think that's a really beautiful thing to tackle.

[sirianasims]

Chapter 43.1

Midnight Blues

Winter was slowly relaxing its grip on the city. I stared at the grey skies and took a deep breath to steel myself. As always, getting from the hotel to the safety of a taxi was the scary part. Behind me, Paul was putting on his coat.

“Julia? Got everything?”

“Yeah, let’s go. But first…”

I moved in to kiss him and he kissed me back, the kind of kiss that reminded me why I kept doing this, why I put up with the endless hotels and paparazzi and anxiety. His hands were on my waist and I wished we had more time, that we didn’t have to keep saying goodbye every week.

He started pulling away but I wasn’t done, I would never be done with him, and I couldn’t help but make a small frustrated sound that made him smile.

“Wait, Julia, before we leave… You’re so very distracting, I completely forgot to talk to you about my birthday.”

“Your birthday? But that’s in what, two months?”

“I know, but since it’s the big 40, I was thinking about going to Tartosa for a few days, throw a party for the whole family. And I thought it’d be a good time for you to meet everyone. I know it’s a lot of people at once, but they’re going to adore you, I know they will.”

“Ah. Right.” My mouth went dry. Paul reached up and ran his fingers through my hair, looking slightly puzzled.

“Julia? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just… it’s a big step, meeting your entire family. It feels so… serious.”

He frowned. His eyes, usually warm and inviting, suddenly had a wary edge that made my heart race.

“Yes? I am quite serious about this. About us. I thought I’d made that clear. I love you and I imagine a future with you in it.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the words catch in my throat.

“I love you too, Paul, I really do, but…” My voice trailed off as I searched for the right words. “I’m just not sure if I’m ready for things to get that serious.”

He lifted my chin, his eyes searching mine. “Julia… tell me, what exactly did you expect from this relationship?”

“I… I just wanted to be with you.”

He took a step back and it felt like an invisible wall had suddenly appeared between us.

“But for how long? Why are you still in this relationship if you’re not planning to be in it for the long haul? What are we doing here, Julia?”

Tears stung my eyes as I struggled to respond. I loved him, but the thought of deciding what the rest of my life would look like scared me more than I could express.

“I don’t know, Paul. I want to be with you, but I’m still figuring things out. I’m just… I’m not ready for that kind of commitment yet.”

There was a long, painful silence before Paul spoke again, quietly, his voice tinged with resignation.

“I can’t wait around forever, Julia. I’m sorry, but I need more than this, more than you’re able to give me right now. I think… I think it’s best if we part ways.” 

I felt a wave of despair as the reality of his words sank in, threw my arms around him as if I could physically stop him from leaving me.

“No! No, Paul, wait, please, can’t we just…” I desperately tried to think of something to say, some magic words that would change his mind, but I knew it was useless. The deep sorrow in his voice told me that he’d already made his decision.

Paul held me for a moment, but his body felt different against me now, distant and foreign like he was already a stranger. I breathed in the familiar scent of citrus and olive soap on his skin, clung to him until he gently but firmly removed my arms from around his neck.

“I get it, Julia. You’re right, you deserve space to find yourself without the pressure of my… expectations. You’re still so young, and you have every right to take your time. But I can’t wait in limbo. I have to move on.”

I sobbed into his chest, barely able to form words.

“Paul, don’t leave me. Don’t. Please. I love you.”

His voice was soft when he continued, but the finality in his words echoed in the hollow where my heart used to be.

“I love you too, Julia. So much. But I can’t spend years waiting for someone who has no idea whether they’ll ever want to be with me or not. I want someone who knows.”

beginning / previous / next

[musingmemories]

How eerie, the calmness of Coriolanus' voice carried in undertone, weighing against the storm in Lucy Gray's. Making it seem as though she'd painted him her villain for this whole charade when he was allegedly as miserable as she was. The performance they'd mutually agreed upon when she’d taken his hand in the cage she'd been confined with the rest of the tributes, bold in their public display of relationship between mentor and tribute. A bond. Not enemies.

If this had been their setting before... after claiming victory in the 10th games and her living in the Capitol, sparing the lives Coriolanus had claimed — Bobbin in the arena, and Mayfair... and the last had surely been an accidental slip of self she couldn’t trust… would their relationship be different than this? Would they still descend upon their audience hand in hand in that adoring manner she'd dreamed while they were apart, heart fluttering at just the mere thought of visualizing the feel of calloused grooves against hers in the darkness when she closed her eyes? Giggling as her back pressed up against the cool marble of the hall, breaths mingling and whispered sweet nothings uttered between kisses. Or... would they eventually have been here? At odds, distrust the worst crime to commit in the eyes of Lucy Gray Baird.

'One misstep and the consequences ripple, to my family, to yours, to your entire District. You understand this. I understand this.'

A threat was interpreted and sent Lucy Gray's walls skyrocketing than be a reminder. Peace was a façade, fragile and easily taken away, people cast aside at the Capitol's disposal. But was Coriolanus truly still a victim as he claimed? Questioning the thought, Lucy Gray's silenced, sticking to her guns and blaming him as he nonchalantly suggested, offering to walk her back to her apartment if she didn't wish to be here. It's then Lucy Gray's found her words again, scoff falling from the depths of her chest in disbelief. Not home, home... her apartment here. Her new cage. "You know very well I mean the Capitol and not simply standing here alone with you during the festivities..." Goes ignored, Lucy Gray finally able to breathe in the separated distance between them, disbelief concealed in a gaze that's hardened to prevent the tears of frustration stinging her eyes to actually form, fixated on the decorum of the flooring.

Put on your face, or wait here for further orders... was it?

The options weigh on her consciousness. Continuing to play the part allows Lucy Gray a chance to find a way out, to know thy enemy... while staying and waiting grants her the possibility of leaving now. Fleeing the Capitol. But Lucy Gray knows, she's smart enough to know she won't get very far in a place she hasn't memorized like the back of her hand. And Coriolanus won't let her wander too far, anticipating this tactic of hers, surely. So the former is the right answer, to consider regaining his trust so she can stray farther, thereby extending the tether he allows by plastering on her radiant smile and play the part of the devout Victor.

"I have to stay... I'm scheduled to play. As your precious songbird." One that never sang unless she had something to say and oh how Lucy Gray did. A new piece she'd been working on in her head, gently sung at night, a lullaby to remind her she was still in control. Lucy Gray couldn't suddenly be obedient yet, it'll draw suspicion... so for now, she'll listen to Coriolanus' attempts. The political. The romantic. Give them consideration, and act as though they've gradually fallen back into the people they were. Opening herself back up to the attempt, Lucy Gray followed, returning to Coriolanus' side, forcing herself to look up at him. "How do I look? Presentable?"

Selfish. That was the first word that surfaced. He thought it, not without contempt, but with a weariness born of repetition. She still didn’t understand. Couldn’t. She was too steeped in the sentimentality of District Twelve, or whatever provincial ideals she’d brought with her. The Capitol was different. Here, the rules were as thin and sharp as a razor’s edge. Misstep once, and you bled, silently, efficiently, fatally. There was no safety net, no sanctuary. Power alone offered the illusion of protection, and even that was a brittle shield.

Without power, you were no different from the ghosts that lingered fifty blocks from the city’s gleaming core. Citizens in name only, scraping by, feeding off scraps, laboring in obscurity. Living in the Capitol, yes, but only just.

Neither of them had a choice.

His voice was calm when he said, “Is it easier to make me the villain when I am just as shackled to this performance as you are?”

Was she still blaming him for returning? As if it had been a decision. As if freedom had ever truly been on the table. And yet… he had wanted to come back. He couldn’t lie to himself about that. He had no appetite for stale bread or threadbare cots. He had ambitions. And ambition demanded sacrifice. Freedom came only through power. Without it, you were a pawn to be moved, bartered, broken.

He exhaled, controlled, deliberate. His gaze dropped from her face, as though dismissing her momentarily. “One misstep and the consequences ripple, to my family, to yours, to your entire District. You understand this. I understand this. They understand this. If blaming me makes it easier to sleep at night, by all means, blame me.”

The place they stood, he knew only through Tigris. He had never descended into these half-forgotten tunnels himself. Until now. He had thought, naively, that she might find a modicum of comfort here, under the Capitol’s skin, where cameras could not reach and expectations loosened their grip. But even now, even this meant nothing to her. He was risking something for her again. And again, she met it with resentment.

“If you don’t wish to be here, I’ll walk you back to your apartment. We’ll reconvene tomorrow for the interview.”

How many times would they need to perform? How many times must they parade their story before the nation? A victor torn from her home, and still, still, she chose the Capitol. Or so the story would go. Proof, if anyone needed it, that the Capitol was not just the heart of Panem, it was the pulse, the breath, the inevitable gravity. No one left. Not really.

The truth that she was not allowed to leave was a detail the public needed never to know.

He turned, almost casually. “I’m going to have a drink. Maybe listen to some music.” A pause, just long enough. “You may join me, or you may stay here and wait until we return.” He didn’t sound angry. He never did. Anger was undignified. Anger gave something away. And Coriolanus Snow never gave anything away, not unless he was certain he’d get more in return.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Would you be willing to write a Miguel x Spider!Reader oneshot where they’re arguing over something the reader did on a mission. And in the heat of an argument, Miguel yells “Because I love you!” at the perfectly wrong time, revealing why he cares about the reader’s safety.

‘What the hell was that back there. You could’ve jeopardised the whole mission with that reckless stunt you pulled back there!’ Miguel barked, ripping off mask the first moment moment he could; Hellfire were setting ablaze to his beautiful scarlet eyes that were zeroed in on you as the anger, the frustration upon his face became prominent the more he closed the distance between you.

‘When will you let this go, Miguel. When we became Spider-Man we knew the risks that we were running with-‘ ‘so you thought it’d be better to take a running head start by taking the leap and then diving headfirst into them?!’ Miguel cuts you off and with an indignant huff he adds, ‘you don’t get extra points for being reckless, this isn’t some little game that you can just come back to when you feel like it. No, what we do is a full time commitment with no room for last minute deviations just because you were feeling more heroic.’

You grit your teeth. You respected Miguel, you truly did and at one point in time you wanted to do right by his little rule book of how to be a great hero. However you soon learned that it’s better to play by your own rules rather then it was to play by those made by others and slowly but surly found a method that worked for you. For no two methods were the same when it came to protecting and saving people but if they both end in the same conclusion, then no one should be able to raise an issue with it. At the end of the day you and Miguel saved people from a much bigger problem if left unchecked; so why was it that all of a sudden he had an issue with your methods?

It never upset him this much before, so why now. Did he think you as incapable? As unreliable? As untrustworthy to fully let you handle a situation on your own? Whatever it was it only proved in pissing you off despite your semi-injured state; you didn’t care that you’ve gotten hurt, you’ve gotten hurt plenty of times before and he never once batted an eye or exemplified his emotions as he did as of right now. You could barely get a read on the guy as he stood mere feet away, chest heaving even though he wasn’t out of breath, eyes wide and his hair slightly disheveled from the way he had torn off his mask earlier.

And yet you couldn’t help but find him beautiful in his anger, for it was like witnessing the makings of a Greek tragedy; beautifully written, yet so heartbreakingly tragic.

‘Why does it matter?’ You spat, getting up, despite your injured leg’s desire to buckle beneath the weight of not only you but the situation at hand. You saw the briefest movements of Miguel’s arms almost stretch out to instinctively catch you but stopping midway through the motion before going slack at his sides once more; as though remembering why he was mad at you in the first place. ‘It never mattered before, so why does it matter now? You don’t hound the others for doing it so why is it me that’s getting shit on for doing the same when I ain’t the first to do so!’

‘Because I love you!’ Miguel exclaimed.

The silence afterwards was almost deafening. Miguel’s outburst quieted you quickly as a thousand and one thoughts raced in your head; how long? why now? Was this merely a ruse to silence you so he could badger on at you for your supposed mistake? You didn’t know what to make of anything anymore now that he said that. You didn’t want to believe it for starters on the basis that not once had he ever shown interest in you, if anything he made it apparent to push you away or avoid you entirely from any and all interaction, and even when he did it was comprised of short responses that left the attempts at conversation to die as an overwhelming awkwardness forced you into leaving him be.

‘What?’

‘I love you.’ Miguel repeated, softer this time.

‘I get that but why-‘ ‘haven’t I shown it until now? As stupid as it sounds but I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me and look where you are,’ he gestured to your injured state, ‘hurt because of me.’ He adds defeatedly. You were about to open your mouth when Miguel raised a hand, indicating that he wasn’t finished, ‘I know I haven’t given you any reason to believe me when I say that I love you. I avoid you like the plague and I push you away whenever I see you starting to get too close and respond in a clipped tone of voice so that you’d loose interest and move on to talk to someone else.’

He stopped talking to move in closer to you, grasping you by arms with a firm grip as all the anger in his face seemingly having been melted away. The raging hellfire that once consumed his scarlet eyes in their entirety had been diminished to that of dying ambers, unveiling his admiration, his worry, his guilt and most importantly, his love; the sneer now long gone was replaced by a softer more tender expression that didn’t hide away the worry lines that were deeply etched into his skin. ‘I don’t deserve you, I’m not worth having you because sooner or later you’ll see me the way I’ve always seen myself and I’d rather you be as far away as possible when that happens.’ Miguel said, making sure he was maintaining eye contact with you the entire time to prove that he was being wholeheartedly genuine, not wanting to lie to you about something as personal as his feelings; He’s done that for long enough, Miguel knew his breaking point was upon the incline and seeing you act the way you did during the mission only fast forward it.

‘Yet for some inexplicable reason I can’t stop myself for wanting to protect you, to make sure you’re safe, to make sure that you never come to harm. At first I thought it was because I was looking out for a teammate, making sure you didn’t slip up and cause more potential problems for the rest of us, making sure that you didn’t let a single perpetrator slip but soon I learnt it was far more then just simply looking after a teammate...’ Miguel paused to blink away the images regarding of the nightmares he’d get concerning you, which were few and far between but those times were enough to suffocate him with fear. ‘It was something more and I grew scared, I grew scared because I know what it’s like to loose it all but for some reason I also knew that loosing you would just be the nail in the coffin for me.’

Miguel admits as he presses his forehead against your own, his hands trailing from up your arms until they’re caressing the skin of either side of your neck between calloused thumbs. He closing his eyes and allows himself to breath you in, reminding himself that you were here and that he managed to get to you before anything else could, that he kept you safe, not from all harm but at least from some of it and that was good enough but he knew deep down that he needed the do better. ‘Don’t make me imagine a life without you,’ he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours just that tiny bit harder as his fingertips found their home where your pulse points were to remind him that you weren’t gone completely from his grasp, ‘for I don’t think I’m strong enough to withstand that reality.’

‘You don’t have to.’ You told him softly, lifting your hands to caresses the skin of his cheeks and feeling him effectively melt within your hold. ‘Not anymore.’

[radiant-reid]

Reading between the lines

A/n: From this request...

omg can you write an angst one shot where spencer and reader get into an argument and reader demands space. spencer not know what relationship terms are, assumes they’re breaking up and is just so upset without them

Summary: Spencer’s panicked when he misinterprets a relationship term to mean something terrible.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst but mostly fluff)

Content Warning: abandonment issues |

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist

"That's not what I meant!" Spencer argued his loud tone a complete opposite to what it usually was.

The meaning of the idiom, relating to repeating an action or phrase, being 'blue in the face' was appropriate, but Spencer's cheeks were hot.

It was maybe the first proper flight the couple had ever had. And it was right at its peak. Only 15 feet apart, muscles clenched, tears streaming, cheeks bright red, and hearts racing.

It started with not enough sleep, stress, then sarcastic remarks, getting under each other's skin, and finally, the clash.

The cause was Spencer's inability to commit to being Y/n's date to her work dinner. One off-handed comment and it seemed to draw out every other issue they had.

"Well, you said it anyway!" Y/n yelled back. She just wanted one thing. One semi-reasonable thing with Spencer's schedule.

Spencer had never had anyone to commit to. He learned, in early childhood, that his mom, as much as he adored her, wasn't able to commit to him. And his dad didn't want to. Those were the facts he had lived with for so long.

But now he had Y/n, and he was learning all the things books couldn't teach him.

"Y/n..." Spencer started, voice growing quiet. "I don't know what you want from me."

She rolled her eyes, not wanting to hurt him but beyond frustrated. "I want one thing, Spencer! I never ask for anything. I've always understood your job, but it's one night." She continued to complain.

Spencer really didn't know what to say. He was far too inexperienced in relationships to know what to do. More than anything, he didn't want to let her down.

"I-I just can't." Spencer spat out, defeated. He took a seat on the couch. More than anything, he wanted to work it out. "Please." He nodded to the seat next to him, hoping she'd sit down.

Y/n shook her head. "No, Spencer, I need space." She demanded. Swiftly, she turned around to collect her things and walked out the door.

Although he was already crying, Spencer choked out a loud sob. As much as he knew couples broke up, he had always thought he and Y/n wouldn't.

The whole world full of dreams he had built in the last 6 months came crashing down. He couldn't stop crying as he tucked himself into a ball on the couch, wrapping his arms around his legs tightly. He just wanted to be held by someone, Y/n or his mom. But neither of them were there, and now he knew Y/n wasn't coming back.

Spencer wasn't sure things would ever be the same. She had very quickly become everything to him; the first thing he thought about when he woke up and went to sleep. She was the first thing that made him feel human in so long.

The tightening in his chest was almost unbearable, heart-pounding, and nauseating.

All of a sudden, he realized he couldn't stay in his apartment. Without thinking about it, he left. Locking the door and going right to the person he knew would provide him with a shoulder to cry on. Penelope Garcia.

"Spencer, sweet boy wonder, what's happened?" Penelope asked frantically after she opened the door. Spencer in tears was an uncommon sight, brought about by something terrible happening.

Spencer sobbed until he was pretty sure he was dehydrated. Penelope had pulled him inside, wrapped him in a blanket on her couch, and brought him chamomile tea in a dinosaur mug.

"What's wrong?" She urged again, bothered by everything about the situation.

"Y/n, I-I think we, uh... broke up," Spencer announced in between hiccups. He only sobbed louder once he'd said it out loud. Forming the words Y/n hadn't said made it all real.

Penelope's eyes widened, unsure of how that could be possible. "How?" She questioned, overcome by the shock. She had seen Y/n and Spencer a few days prior, and they were so happy. She'd never seen Spencer smile as wide as he did when he rambled about Y/n, his voice full of love and adoration.

Spencer shrugged, unable to cry anymore. All he wanted was to wake up the next day and have it all be a bad dream. "We were arguing because- it's so stupid." He interrupted himself, holding a palm to his forehead. "I told her I wouldn't come with her to a work thing of hers." He explained, shaking his head as he desperately wished he could take it back. It seemed like such a ridiculous thing for their relationship to end over. "Garcia, why did I do that?" He begged for an answer.

Penelope still didn't believe it, and she didn't want to. "What did she say?"

"That she needed space," Spencer answered, shaking his head.

Penelope's expression changed. Spencer profiled the look on her face as faith. "Just that she needed space?" She asked.

Spencer couldn't understand how their break-up could be sufficiently summarized by 'just.' "Yes?" He questioned, still confused.

"Kiddo." Penelope reached out to touch his arm. "That doesn't mean you broke up."

It took a minute to sink into Spencer's head, slowly letting himself process the information. "We what?"

"You didn't break up." Penelope reinforced the good news.

"I don't understand," Spencer replied, his nose slightly scrunching.

Penelope watched the innocence in his eyes, giving way to hope. "In relationship talk." She started, preparing to teach him an important lesson. "Space only means she wants to think about it."

Spencer's face changed as she figure out what he meant, and it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. "So I can fix this?" He wondered.

"Absolutely." Penelope nodded with a wide grin. "Just go get some flowers, apologize and agree to go with her." She instructed, feeling as though she were playing cupid.

He nodded, feeling the sense of urgency. "Thank you, Penelope." He left with those three last words, flying down the stairs leading to her apartment.

He'd never moved as fast as he did, making his way to the florist. Why it was open so late at night, he didn't know, but he was grateful.

There wasn't a single emotion he felt until he knocked on the door. Then the fear hit him. Garcia hadn't given him much more instruction. There was no backup plan she'd supplied him with.

It was now or never, and his heart pounded in his chest. It only got louder when Y/n opened the door, eyes puffy. Wordlessly, she moved out of the way, letting him into her apartment. The tiny smile on her face at the sight of the bouquet gave him a glimmer of hope, taking the edge off.

"I'm really sorry, Y/n." Spencer started, awkwardly standing in the middle of the lounge room. "I just... I don't know how to commit to people." He tried to explain, searching for the right words. Clearing his throat before he continued. "Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm just really not good at this." He confessed, staring down at the floor, moving the flowers around in his hand.

Y/n shook her head, stepping forward so she was only a few feet away from him. She took the flowers from him, placing them on the bench before holding his hands.

"Sorry, they're really sweaty." Spencer apologized, chuckling through the few tears he was crying.

Y/n giggled lightly at him. "You're not bad at this, Spencer." She assured him. "I know that you're trying so hard, and I really appreciate it. I'm sorry as well." She apologized softly. "It just meant a lot to me."

"So we're good, we don't need any more space?" He clarified. Y/n nodded, letting go of his hands in favor of looping her arms around his neck and hugging him. Spencer let his open palms travel to her back as he held her close to him.

Y/n pulled away first, holding his jaw with her fingertips as she leaned in to kiss him. Finally, Spencer felt like everything was back to being right.

When she pulled away, looking deeply into his eyes, Spencer dove back in for another kiss. Then another. Until she had to remove his hands from her waist.

"I'll be at the dinner. And anywhere else you need me to be. Always." Spencer assured her, feeling more grateful and luckier than he had ever felt before.

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[champion-prism]

Fantasies- Toshinori Yagi/All Might

Requested by anon: hello prism!! Do you write young age all might? If you do, can you write one where toshi fantasizes about f!reader and feels bad about it, but cant help it? Maybe he has her clothes or something?

Anon im coming back from the dead to write this bc guilty jerking off is my FAVOURITE thing ever.

Pairings: Young!All Might x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, guilt

Word Count: 1734

Toshinori’s life is a whirlwind right now. He’s getting major attention for his hero work, making sure to be seen publicly at least once a day, staying on call with the fire department in case there’s an emergency and his rescue services are needed, he’s attending classes at university, working out in his spare time, working with Dave on testing new tech and variations to his suit for maximum utility…

...oh, and he’s avoiding you.

Not that you know he’s avoiding you, he’s always sweet when you run into him in the common area of your four person suite, always offers to pour you a drink of lemonade, always asks how your classes are going. He just tries to make sure that he’s not out in the common area while you’re there, preferring to skulk out whenever you go back to your room, because he knows.

He knows that if he runs into you, he’s going to stare at your legs, smooth and pretty looking in those tiny, tiny shorts you’re always wearing, and he knows that if you bend down he’s going to catch a glimpse of your panties. He feels terrible about it, because he has seen your panties- not on purpose! He’s All Might, he doesn’t look up skirts or things like that, he isn’t… he isn’t a pervert.

Truth be told, he’s been rather taken with you ever since he and Dave were assigned to this suite with you and another girl. At first, he supposed he didn’t really care much- roommates had never given him trouble, female or otherwise- but you...you made him feel weird.

You had this gentle tone of voice when he introduced himself, his name softly rolling off your tongue, making him feel this oddest urge to...know what you were thinking. He wanted to talk, he wanted to brag, he wanted to lift something heavy just to show you that he could lift heavy things, even though he was aware that it would be a ridiculous thing to do. It was a ridiculous thing to think, even, as he confided in Dave later.

Dave had just laughed at him.

The urge he got when he saw you, the urge to pull you into a hug and press you flush against his whole body, he didn’t know what to make of it.

Until now.

He’s been sitting in almost darkness in his room for a while now, holding in his hands his varsity “Plus Ultra” jacket that he had put around your shoulders last night, when he’d walked back with you from a late evening lecture. You’d just been to return it, a soft smile on your lips,and now he’s sitting here, jacket in hand, breathing in your scent that was on his jacket, feminine and sweet. He slumps back to lay on the bed, still holding it close, one hand unconsciously smoothening over his crotch. He only notices when he gives himself a light squeeze- the warmth is both pleasurable and uncomfortable at the same time, his cock growing hard underneath his sweatpants.

He breathes in.

He is not a pervert.

But is this perverted? Rubbing himself over his sweatpants while breathing in your scent?

How would you feel if you found out?

You’d probably never even look at him again.

His hips buck.

He knows he should get his hand away before this escalates, but grinding into his own palm is just about his only option. He’s not comfortable with casual relationships, and he’s too busy to ever pursue a serious one, and being as busy as he is gives him almost no time to take care of himself.

He sighs as he removes his hand for good, rolling over to his side and grabbing his phone from his bedside table. He needs to distract himself, so he opens up his social media- he’s not necessarily a huge fan of it, but he knows it’s important for a hero like him to have a presence.

He scrolls a bit, almost lazily, but the universe is not on his side. Pretty soon he’s on your page, looking through your pictures with his lower lip between his teeth.

There’s this one picture of you. You’re wearing a short red dress, one that complements your body perfectly, tight in all the right places, with thin straps that show off your beautiful shoulders, ones he wants to kiss all over, bite and suck and leave marks on. His bright blue eyes fix themselves on your thighs- would you like it if he dove between them? If he licked the insides of your thighs, sucking on their softness- would you buck your hips and whine at him to kiss you where you wanted it?

His hand is between his legs again, his sweatpants uncomfortably tight, face half buried in the jacket.

He wishes he could bury his face in your pussy, instead.

The thought is so graphic that he flinches, but his hand stays.

He’s just going to press down a little, to help with the discomfort. He keeps staring at the picture, glancing at your cleavage, but going back to the hem of your dress.

Such a short dress. Hitch it up a few inches and you’d be exposed- had you been wearing those lacy pink panties he got a peek at, once?

Were you even wearing panties at all in this picture?

His mind wanders to how you lounge in your shorts in the common area, those tiny shorts that barely cover your ass, only offering a thin strip of protection to your bare cunt.

Toshi knows it’s not very plus ultra of him to commit the image of you in those shorts to memory, and he’s ashamed of what it says about his self control but he gives in, shucking off his sweatpants and kicking them away, palming himself through his boxers.

He’s just so sexually frustrated.

His cock is hard, straining against them as if threatening to break out of his boxers. He circles the covered head with his fingers, the pleasure too much but not enough.

He doesn’t want his hands. He wants your tongue, wet and pink and swirling gently on his head, pushing at the slit and lapping up his pre.

He’s not the most experienced guy on the block, but Toshi knows that just like the rest of him, he’s a bit larger than life. He wonders how much of him you’d be able to take into his mouth, groaning as he imagines your mouth sucking on his head, your soft hands pumping his length.

Tears in your eyes as you try to take him further into your mouth, but don’t even get a quarter of the way through.

His hand slides inside his underwear, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolls further down your page.

Perv, he tells himself, flushing from both embarrassment and arousal. You’re just down the hall from him, sweet and unaware, and he briefly wonders what you’re doing before he begins to wonder what you look like touching yourself.

He can just imagine you, lying on your bed wearing nothing but his large, open jacket, playing with your nipples and rubbing your slit. Whose name would you whisper?

Or maybe he’d save you from a villain or something and you’d like to pay him back in kind-

Toshi shudders as he bucks his hips into his hand, chastising himself for that last thought. He is a hero, even fantasizing about something like that is unethical and abhorrent and-

-he wants to hear you moan his hero name, he wants to see you free his cock from his hero suit, run your hands over his body, look up at him with worshipping eyes-

His cock is slick with his own pre cum as he begins to pump himself in earnest, phone dropped to a side as he focuses on his own fantasies. What would you be like if he saved you from a villain attack? Would you cling to his form, subtly running your hands over his muscles, maybe nuzzling against his chest for comfort?

Would you tilt your head towards him, hoping for a kiss?

He imagines kissing you, his lips on yours, tongue exploring your mouth. Carrying you to safety as you begin to take your clothes off, grateful and adoring and looking at him as if he’s the whole world.

Fuck.

His balls are throbbing in his hand, and he gives them a squeeze, imagining you trying to suck on them, trying to cup them in your small hands, trailing kisses all over his sac and licking up his shaft.

Fuck, all he wants right now is for you to blow him. You, naked and on your knees in front of him while he sits back, completely clothed in his hero suit with only his cock out, sighing as you lick and suck and moan against his shaft, your hand occasionally moving to play with your tits or to rub your clit.

He wants to hear you call him All Might in a breathy little voice, hands clutching his thighs as you look pleadingly up at him and beg him to fuck you.

And he would fuck you, oh, he’d press you down onto the bed and tower over you, groping your body, grabbing your tits, settling between your open legs and rubbing his cockhead against your swollen lower lips-

He’s close, he can feel it, pumping and squeezing his length and taking deep breaths of the jacket you wore, imagining himself sinking slowly inside of your wet cunt until his hips meet yours.

He just knows you’d whine about how big he is.

He’d grip your thighs and fuck into your cunt, eliciting moans and screams, hitting every little spot inside your cunt, oh, he’d make you cum around his cock so many times that you’d be begging for him to stop, that he was too much and you couldn’t take it and-

Toshi comes with a muffled moan, hips jerking as he cums all over himself, his body tingling and desperate for your touch. He keeps pumping until he’s made a whole mess of himself, then lays back, gasping and panting as guilt creeps over him, making him blush even redder, even though there’s a part of his mind already formulating a plan to make his fantasies a reality.

[bastetwastaken]

Hey, I found something in my WIPs folder and I have no memory of what I was actually writing it for, so I'm just gonna drop it here for all you wonderful people <3 <3

....................

Atem was finding it hard to keep up with Yugi at the exposition. He was so easily distracted, bouncing from booth to booth faster than Atem was really prepared for.

Yugi had been so excited to come here, it had taken almost a month for them both to find a day they were free from work and other commitments too and Atem was trying to be positive. 

It was the first one of these things they’d been to and Atem was having fun, he really was… He just wished Yugi would slow down and take everything in properly. He looked down at the small leaflet in his hand which detailed all the stalls there and what they were selling. 

Surely they didn’t need all of this? There were so many different things to consider. Yugi had already shown him hundreds of ideas, suits, colour schemes, decor, and Atem had been a little overwhelmed by the whole thing so far. 

He’d hoped coming to one of these would help him understand what they really needed for the day but- 

“Atem!” Yugi's excited voice caught his attention. 

He looked up and found his partner waving enthusiastically at him, beckoning him over to another stall he was standing at. 

Atem smiled as he joined him. 

“What do you think of these?” Yugi asked him, holding a small bunch of flowers up to his face. 

He laughed and took a step back so he could see the flowers properly. 

“They’re lovely.” He said. “What do you think though?” 

“I think they’d look really nice with the colour of the dress we’re thinking of for Anzu.” Yugi told him happily. “She’d like them…” 

Yugi’s eyes were suddenly drawn to something to Atems left and he gasped excitedly, passing the flowers to Atem before he dashed away toward another stall. 

Atem was left holding the small bunch awkwardly. He let a small sigh escape his lips as he turned to place the flowers back on the table next to him. 

“I know that look.” The woman behind the stall said. Atem looked up at her in confusion. 

“What look?” He asked. 

“The deer in the headlights look.” She said, rearranging the flowers he’d just put down before looking back at him. “It’s alright, my wife was the same.”  

He swallowed the frustration he felt and shrugged. 

“I’ve just never given all of this much thought.” He said quietly. 

“Hmm.” The woman laughed. “All of this?” She gestured around the room and to her own stall. “It’s just for show. None of it proves how much you love each other, none of it is necessary for your day.” 

Atem frowned as he listened. He’d seen enough romance movies to know that this was what a wedding was meant to be… everyone on the screen had big events, huge parties with all their family there. 

“I thought this was what we had to do…” He said uncertainly. The woman laughed quietly again and shook her head. 

“Not at all.” She said. “Even though I work in this industry, my wedding was small. Just me, my wife and our parents. It was magical and exactly what we wanted. I wouldn’t change it.” 

Atem nodded and looked around the room again, he’d lost sight of Yugi completely. He sighed and looked back at the woman. 

“Thank you.” He said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Remember, all that matters is your love for each other.” She told him with a kind smile. 

He returned the smile before he turned away, searching for his partner in the crowd again. He’d never had an issue with his height until now. He cursed not being able to easily see over the people around him as he walked aimlessly through the room. 

There were so many stalls here. 

He passed more tables covered in flowers, one with rings on show, some with cakes…it was all too much. 

Suddenly he was overcome with a sense of dread, the familiar feeling of anxiety rose in his chest and threatened to choke him. He had to get some air, find somewhere quieter before this developed into a full on attack. 

He swallowed heavily and turned back toward the entrance to the room. Yugi would find him, he had his phone, it was fine but he had to leave. 

It took him much longer than he would have liked to get out of the room but eventually he felt the crisp Autumn air hit his face and he took a proper breath, inhaling deeply and chasing away the horrible suffocating feeling of his anxiety. 

He walked a little further away from the building, into the well kept gardens of the large hotel where the exposition was being held. He found a bench under a small trellis and took a seat. 

He took a few deep breaths, burying his hands in the pockets of his thick jacket, watching as his breath fogged in the cool air as he breathed out. The scene in front of him calmed him down quickly.

Rolling hills were beyond the walls of the hotel, endless open countryside only broken up by a band of trees, all in various stages of changing colour for the season. The low Autumn sun made the orange of the leaves look like fire. He stared out at the landscape until he felt the last traces of anxiety flee from his veins. 

Atem pulled his hands out of his pockets, the ring on his left hand sparkled in the warm sunlight. An amethyst stone set on a twisted gold band, simple but so significant. His favourite piece of jewellery, given to him by his favourite person. 

He smiled as he recalled the day Yugi had asked him to marry him. It had been unexpected and something which never occurred to Atem as being an option for them, but it had made so much sense. 

Coming from Egypt, he hadn’t ever considered that marriage was on the cards for him. He’d resigned himself to the views of his family and his country and just ignored the possibility. 

Yugi had taken him out to dinner on the day that marked three years of them being together. After they’d finished eating at Atems favourite restaurant, Yugi had suggested they take a walk, and he’d led Atem down to the waterfront of the small town they’d moved to. 

After a short walk out onto the pier Yugi had stopped him, told him how much he meant to him and then he’d dropped to one knee and asked him to spend the rest of his life with him. 

It had been the happiest day of his life and he couldn’t say yes fast enough. He took another deep breath, distracted from his thoughts by the crunch of gravel that told him someone was walking toward him. 

He looked up to find Yugi smiling at him as he approached. 

“Hey.” Yugi's voice was soft as he sat down beside him. “You disappeared.” 

“Sorry.” He smiled. “I just needed a little break, that's all.” 

Yugi smiled sadly at him and moved closer, taking the hand Atem had been staring at in his. Fingers stroked slowly over the ring he wore. 

“What is it?” Yugi asked softly. “Is it too much?” 

Atem shrugged, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

“A little.” He said. “I just…didn’t realise there was so much to think about I guess…” 

Yugi nodded, biting his lip for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was sad and it made Atem want to cry. 

“You can tell me if this isn’t what you want, you know.” 

Atem turned toward Yugi, squeezing his hands lightly and brushing his thumb over the ring he’d bought Yugi in return. 

“Yugi.” He said as he looked back into the eyes he’d always loved. “The setting doesn’t matter to me, the decor, colour of the dresses of our wedding party, the suits our friends wear…none of it. All I care about is you. I want to be with you forever, to share this life with you.” 

He released one of Yugi's hands, instead cupping his cheek, brushing his thumb over the soft skin and smiling. 

“All I want is you.” He added. 

A smile spread across Yugi's face and he laughed quietly. His hand moved to rest against Atems cheek as he moved closer. 

“You’re all I want too.” Yugi said softly before he kissed him slowly. 

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

Can you write a smut with Tom riddle where the reader and him are dating, and he’s obviously used to being in charge but one night something happens (you can decide that part) and suddenly the reader wants to be in charge but Tom doesn’t want that so she ties him up and teases her till he’s begging her to let him cum or something like the idk.

I absolutely love ur writing, it’s absolutely incredible I could never write anything as good as you!😊

pairing: tom riddle x reader

warning(s): 18+, dom/sub roles (ish), begging, magical ties, oral (make receiving), mentions of oral (female receiving) 

word count: 2.0k

a/n: and we’re back to our regularly scheduled smut. i have a ton of requests so be patient - i will get to it! thank you all for the love and support so far! 

You and your boyfriend, Tom, were strolling through the halls of Hogwarts on your Prefect rounds, enjoying the complete silence of the massive castle. It was rare the halls were this quiet, but late at night tended to be the perfect time to stumble upon echoing walls and corridors where you could hear a pin drop. 

Suddenly, Tom stopped in his tracks and stuck out a hand to stop you as well. “Do you hear that?” He asked in a hush whispering, pointing somewhere off to the left of where both of you stood. 

Following his direction, you turned your head to the left and saw that it was a typically abandoned corridor but you did hear the faint rustle of clothing and distant female giggling. You rolled your eyes and began walking in that direction, already knowing you’d have to break up two young people just wanting to have a bit of fun. It wasn’t that you wanted to spoil their good time, but it was an unspoken rule that if a Prefect caught you, they had no other choice unless they themselves wanted to end up in trouble. 

As you approached, wands drawn in order to cast a lumos charm, Tom put his body in front of you, taking charge. 

“I can handle it,” you whispered, a pout brought to your face. 

He didn’t even stop his movement, just kept walking even as he shot you a smirk. You rolled your eyes in frustration. He did this every time. You were perfectly capable of breaking up two horny teenagers and sending them off to bed, but he always had to be the one in charge. You were growing quite sick of it.

He got there before you and handled the situation with a dominant grace that only he seemed to possess, and he sent the two fifth years scattering on the way back to their respective common rooms. Without even another look in your boyfriends direction, you went stalking the other way and were determinately headed back to the Slytherin common room. 

“Get back here,” he said with a warning in his voice, following you nonetheless. 

“No. I’m going to bed,” you said rather loudly, not faltering in your steps. 

“Oh for the love of Merlin, what’s wrong?” He asked, his long legs giving him the ability to catch up with you. 

“You,” was your bitter reply. 

“Me? What have I done?” He asked incredulously. 

“Yes, you, Tom,” you said, finally halting in your steps and swinging around to face him. “You always have to be the one in charge. I could have easily handled that, like I said, but no. You just had to go and- and-,” you explained, waving your hands animatedly, but you trailed off once you realized this entire conversation was pointless. He wasn’t just going to change his incessant behavior no matter what you said. Besides, the smirk on his face as he looked down at you just proved it was a losing battle. 

“Darling, I hate to burst your bubble but you’ll never be in charge while I’m around. You don’t have to be,” he explained, attempting to be gentle through his cocky demeanor but his words only sent you into another flurry. 

“You want a bet? That I can’t be in charge?” You asked heatedly, your mind already slipping straight into the gutter. 

He paused for a moment, then finally sighed and raised an eyebrow. “Fine,” he agreed, “but you only get one chance so don’t mess it up for yourself.” 

~~~

The moment the two of you entered Tom’s private room, your lips were on each other and you took the initiative to slowly back him up into the bed until he had no choice but to sit with you standing before him. His grip on your waist was tight, but you had other plans for his hands anyways. 

The entire walk down to the dungeons, you had been plotting. You needed to prove to him that you could be in charge. Sure, it was nice that you had a boyfriend willing to take charge in all situations and you never had to worry about a thing, but you still felt the incessant need to prove yourself. 

“Take your clothes off and lie on the bed,” you told him when you pulled away from the kiss, attempting to emulate the demeanor he always gave off in situations like this. 

You heard him chuckle to himself, still under the impression that you couldn’t pull this off, but he did as you asked anyways. Finally, he was laying naked on the bed, completely relaxed against the pillows and looking at you expectantly. 

“Do you worst, Y/N,” he jested, his hand moving to trail down to his half erect cock but you stopped him in his tracks. 

“Did I say you could do that?” You asked, holding his wrist in your grip. His eyes darted up to yours and he looked shocked for a moment, but that look in his eyes went away in a flash as the signature smirk came back. 

He put his hand back down on the duvet and you climbed into the bed with him, straddling his legs. When he had been busy undressing, you undressed yourself down to your bra and panties. Little did he know what you had hidden underneath was a matching set. 

“Keep your hands right there. You’re gonna be a good boy for me tonight, right?” You cooed, trailing kisses from his neck down to his abdomen as you spoke. 

“The best,” he shot back with a sarcastic wink and it only made you chuckle to yourself because he truly had no idea what was coming. 

You continued your trail of kisses until you were firmly planted between his legs and your mouth was inches away from his cock. He was fully erect now and could feel your breath against his, making his cock twitch with anticipation. 

“Beg,” you demanded, refusing to touch him until he did at least the bare minimum, only placing kisses on his pelvis and thighs. 

“Please, Y/N. I’d love to cum down your throat right now,” he said lowly, but you could tell the begging was noncommittal. That would change. 

You easily complied, wanting him to think he had the upper hand, and immediately brought him into your mouth. You loved sucking his cock. He was warm and heavy on your tongue, and the noises he made always made you dripping wet. He wasn’t disappointing tonight. 

He released a low groan the second he felt his tip hit the back of your throat and he bucked his hips up, but you pushed the back down with force. You continued your ministrations, just waiting for him to lose himself. When you took him all the way down your throat, he lost it. 

His hands tangled in your hair as he tried to hold you down on him, cutting off your air supply, but you were prepared for this. He loved face fucking you and you knew if you had his mouth on his he just wouldn’t be able to resist. You reached for your wand that was strategically placed beside his leg on the bed and cast a silent spell. Immediately, his hands were removed from your hair and magically tied to the bed frame, locked into place. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” He asked, seething. 

When you pulled off of his, you could see it in his eyes how angry he was. He didn’t think you had this in you. But how could he be so naive when you had learned from him? The best? 

“Where did I tell you to keep your hands?” You asked him, using one hand to lightly stroke his cock as you spoke. 

“The bed. Fuck. Let me out,” he demanded, struggling against his confines. 

“I don’t think I will,” you answered, suppressing a laugh. “After all, I am in charge.” 

You didn’t even give him a chance to reply, taking him in your mouth again and keeping your hands on his hips to hold them down. He didn’t have much leverage from this angle, so you knew it would be no problem. 

You dragged moan after moan from him, bringing him right to the edge and back down quite a few times until he was a sweating, writhing mess below you. You knew he was frustrated beyond belief, he had done this to you too many times to count. How did he like the taste of his own medicine? 

You weren’t even sure how long it had been going on for, but your jaw was beginning to ache and you were praying to Circe he cracked soon. That non committed begging from earlier was about to be real genuine soon if you had anything to say about it. 

You pulled off of him once more and your eyes snapped to his face. His hair was stuck to his forehead and neck, his chest was rapidly expanding and contracting, trying his best to get his breathing back under control, and there was a fury in his eyes so unmatched that you knew you’d be paying for this later. 

“Tell me what you want, Tom. Beg for it. Be a good boy for me, yeah?” You instructed, your hands massaging small circles into his tense thighs, willing him to relax into it. 

You could see the conflict in his face. He didn’t want to concede to you, wanting to prove his own point that you couldn’t, or shouldn’t have to be, in charge around him. But you knew how badly he wanted to cum. He cock was flushed such a dark shade of red that you were sure it had to hurt by now. He was aching for it, aching for you to get him there and let him cum in your mouth. 

“Fucking hell. Please, Y/N, let me fucking cum. Please,” he said breathlessly, his whole body limp against the bed as he stared up at you imploringly. 

A rush of power shot through, knowing you deny him so easily in the moment - leave him tied up and begging and wanting and aching. If you kept this up for much longer you know you’d end up on some sort of power trip. You knew he was letting you have this, letting you have his submission, but it still felt so damn good. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You asked with a gleeful grin before immediately getting back to work, your sights set on getting him the release he had begged for. 

“Fuck. Please don’t be cruel. Let me cum Y/N,” he continued to babble when he felt the warmth of your mouth again, his mind lost to the pleasure his body was feeling. 

That only made you work harder, wanting to show him a shred of mercy for the night he had endured. After all, he was a good boy for you throughout most of it. 

His entire body tenses again right before he exploded into your mouth was a loud groan. His body trembled as warm ropes of cum shot down your throat and onto your tonugue. You suckled greedily from the head, getting every last drop out, until he was squirming against the sheets. When you finally came up, he was still breathing heavily and his head was thrown back against the pillows. 

You crawled up the bed to lay beside him, looking over his body in appreciation. He was glistening from sweat and completely still now other than his breathing. 

“Are you going to let me out now?” He asked bitterly, attempting to move his hands from the ties as he looked over at you. 

“Oh c’mon. You know that was fun. And besides, I think I’d like to sit on your face next,” you said with a giggle, watching his face fall into another shocked expression. You would forever remember this night as a lesson well taught.

[queercloudy]

Headcanons - The demon brothers x female reader

Warnings: some swearing, harassment, a bit of anxiety.

Prompt: none.

Summary: how do they react to knowing their crush is followed / harassed by a creep? How do they help / reassure them?

A/N: the other day i had a shitty time returning home bc of a dude so i hope it makes someone feel better. When this happens don't be afraid to call a friend/sibling/etc, remain always on streets with people around and if you can, physically and mentally, don't go straight back home. Creeps don't deserve your kindness but stay safe if you think it'd be dangerous to call them out. That's what i usually do, hope it helps.

Also, i'm sorry if not all of these are good enough, i'm not really proud of how it came out either.

>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

Lucifer:

You were out to buy a box (as known as a majestic treasure and not at all a freaking fraud) from the witches for Mammon

He were scared af, let's be honest

First of all, the box was actually pretty suspicious, second, the Devildom is always too dark for your own good

That's why you already were uneasy

That's when a creepy demon had the great idea to began to walk behind you and your eyebrows furrowed in mistrust

Just in case, you were walking around without a precise aim, trying to slip out

But the stranger was always on your heels

Meanwhile, Lucifer thought you were out for longer than necessary and was slightly worried

Yet another turning point, you found yourself with your head on the demon's chest

The right demon

You elevated your gaze for the first time in a while and your shoulders relaxed, knowing Lucifer can be intimidating enough for the both of you

Not knowing he was slightly more intimidating than the usual, deep black aura and all

He actually needed to calm down to not commit a crime in front of you

He made sure to hold your hand during all the way back home, leaving to you the time to process what happened and breath properly

Mammon was going to have a very very bad day

>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

Leviathan:

ubYou always took the same road to return to the House of Lamentation, the Devildom was still a mystery and arriving late to RAD wasn't an option

But lately you walked in a certain ghost (at least you thought that was it) too many times for it to be a coincidence

So you tried to take other streets

Long story short, you were damn lost

The ghost appeared anyways and it made you panic because, ok, that's awful but does it have to be this frustrating? Can't that ghost-thing just mind his damn business and leave you alone?

Luckily, Levi called you in that moment, waiting for you to come to his room

You guys had this Videogame-Wednesday thing going on and be damned who ruined that

You explained the situation to him, a red flush on your cheeks bc of all the time spent running around

Levi almost cried from anger

If there was a person able to get him out of his room that was you and he didn't even bother to hide his cute anime themed socks before coming towards your position

The ghost might have not been intimidated of you but nobody wants to see Leviathan mad as some villain from a random anime

>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

Satan:

You and Satan were out to take a cup of tea in a cafeteria

Just the two of you, chilling togheter in peace with a warm drink

You actually were uncomfortable because of a dude that had been staring at you the whole time but Satan was too absorbed in his book to notice your weird silence

Then the demon, excusing himself, went to the bathroom and you ended up alone

The cafe suddenly appeared desolated even if a lot of people were there

The stranger walked towards you and said something along the lines of "why is a pretty chick like you eating alone?" Trying to approach you and sitting too closely

He was making you angry af, tired of creeps that are only afraid of other men

For a hot minute you thought your anger was so palpable that the guy began to be pale as milk

Turns out that your date was behind you with the worst kind of vibe, almost scaring even you

Satan outsmarted the guy even when he was already to the door, ready to ran away, paid the bill for you both and reassured you that you could always tell him whenever you felt uncomfortable or anxious because of something or someone during your way home

Not noticing that he was pushing you onto his body, glaring at everyone else like a... cat?

>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

Beelzebub:

Beel stopped at Hell's Kitchen for a 'snack'

You were near the door, a wide smile on your face, thinking about the amazing day you just had with your favorite demon

When another demon nearby tried to approach you, uncomfortably close to you and... he was tall, like, a LOT tall

You tried to show your point without being rude but that was being tiring and unnecessary

As you were about to gently tell him to get his dickhead out of your sight, out of the corner of your eye you saw Beel

Deep breath in

As fast as a blink, your hand was holding his arm and you were on another street with half of a cheeseburger in your mouth

Deep breath out

The soft giant asked multiple times if you were ok during your way to the House of Lamentation

To be honest, you were just glad to feel his warmth near you

You probably didn't notice but a bunch of food was lying on the sidewalk right now because a certain carrot head cares about you more than every existing food

>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

Belphegor:

How did you manage to escape his plan to sleep all the afternoon with you?

You were returning to the House of Lamentation from RAD, the lessons today were exhausting and you were just hoping to get some well deserved rest

And that's when a group of demons decided it was a good idea to yell at you to catch your attention, as a reply, you put on your headphones without any music playing

You weren't in the right mood to punch a bunch of douchebags in the face

Noticing they weren't intentioned to stop whistle like idiots, you decided to call Belphegor to keep you company and feeling more secure

However, when you explained the current situation blood boiled in his veins

Oh boy, this guys were going to learn a lesson sooner or later

You couldn't notice the rage on his features through the phone and his tone was being as calm and collected as always

He tried to reassure you while talking and told you he already were at the door waiting for you, also suggesting some alternative streets to take in order to leave behind the demons

When you finally arrived, Belphie hugged you as tight as possible

"Now i can't even let you go around alone, you're too good for this world Y/n" Don't judge the poor boy, it's just his way to tell how much he appreciates your existence

The next day you read on the school news that some guys accidentally fell asleep in the middle of a lesson at RAD and were going to tidy the classroom for the entire week at every shift

>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

Mammon:

I'm not saying that it was his fault but maybe he could've imagined that leaving a cutie like you alone at the bar counter wasn't a brilliant move

The bartender approched you as soon as Mammon led himself to the bathroom

"Can i offer you another drink? It's on the house"

You've already declined that offer at least three times, it was starting to get on your nerves

"Y'know, your date sounds like an annoying guy, all of his jokes are boring as hell"

And you already nodded at that sentence at least twice, starting to get annoyed at the sound of his voice, it was pretty obvious your intention was to just brush off his comments

"You don't seem to be from here, need any help to turn back hom-"

"Dude just shut up and leave her be, do ya know who you're talking to?" Mammon finally saw what was going on

"The great Mammon can't just watch a dummy like ya hitting on his mate," at that sentence you were restraining yourself from bursting into laughter but the bartender, looking at the demon's strangely cold expression, was of a different thought

The two of you leaved the bar, Mammon's arm was protectively placed around your shoulders

"Ya silly one, don't be afraid to call the next time a creep is acting... creepy," the night endend itself with a sonorous laugh but the demon really meant the comfort in his words

>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<

Asmodeus:

Honestly, this guy deserved a medal to have the audacity of unsuccesfully trying to flirt with you in front of Asmodeus

Ok, you were at RAD, but that just meant that Asmo was well known there, who was the moron that would ever flirt with you in front of him

Secretely, Asmo was feeling self-conscious, did he seem to not care about you? Did your relationship seem this laid back and superficial?

But he was sure that this guy seemed like a huge piece of trash

"Y/n, do you know him?"

At your negative and uncomfortable response he activated a malicious side of him you had rarely seen

"Then why is he behaving like a hell hound that has just seen a piece of meat? Oh, poor one, he clearly is not well accostumed to seeing a pretty couple like us, Y/n"

"I guess it must be unusual seeing actual beautiful people when all the mirrors are full of hideousness." Apparently, that was a low blow

The demon procedeed to back away without farther remarks, Asmo had probably used his unnatural influence to scar him a bit too deep

How can i blame him, he deserved it anyways

"Is everything ok, darling?" Today he holded your hand more often that the usual, if even possible, and made sure you knew how much your relationship was real to him

[tommyspeakycap]

request for jack grealish one where he’s really upset over something and you’re there with him to comfort him, lots of physical contact being his love language and you being the only person he likes touching his hair ?

Comfort

You knew from the very second he walked through the door that annoyed would be an incredibly generous word to describe the emotions running through the Brummie boys head. You grimace to yourself, shoulder raising closer to your ears at the sound of the brand new front door slamming heavily behind him with a curse at the fact he couldn't get his shoes kicked off just right the first time he attempted it in the foyer.

The first game was a loss and just about all he'd gotten for the past few days was hate, stress, hate and some more fucking stress. He was exhausted. From Mykonos to Birmingham to get a bag full of clothes so he could meet Villa in London before eventually travelling to Manchester, his sleep schedule has been completely messed up and even when he did have bursts of time where he should have been sleeping, he had been laying awake scrolling through countless tweets criticising his every single move. Add to that the fact his body was exhausted from international duty and that he had wanted nothing more than to curl up by your side and let his worries melt away like he had last gotten to do nearly three whole months ago.

He doesn't know you're here. To the very best of Jack's knowledge, you were still home in Birmingham and he would probably have to broach the conversation of whether or not you'll be joining him up anytime soon, if ever. He lets out a frustrated grunt, but you know Jack better than anyone else and there's the thick sheen of his heart aching tears existing beneath his frustration.

"Hey baby."

His head snaps around to land his eyes on you the second your sweet voice meets his buzzing ears. The echos of Etihad still burn a bit of his hearing away for now, but he knows it'll return to normal by the end of the night. The tears that had previously been kept on his lash line, pushed back by his will not to breakdown for fear he might not be able to stop if he starts are now past the last line of defence, streaming over his cheeks as he crossed the floor at a pace that would send his fife rating into surefire question.

Your body makes an involuntary 'oof' as he crashes against you, his arms so tight around your body as he stops you from stumbling back with the force of his incoming hug. You don't think he's ever actually held you that tightly before, never with such dire necessity, with such urgency for you to be as close to him as he could get you.

The hair that's been allowed to fall loose from the band he'd earlier had it tied back in tickles the back of your neck as it dangles over the exposed skin. He mumbles something almost incoherent about how much he's missed you into your neck, pepping chaste kisses where his lips have landed against you in this hug. You wished you could enjoy that, but the dampening that has begun to occur over the shoulder that his head is above reminds you of the pain he must be in.

Leaving your childhood club is one thing, but leaving it when everybody else seems to think he's a monster for it is a whole different kind of agony. There were just too many emotions for people to see the kind of things Jack had given for the club and the huge opportunity he had left them with his legacy and with the money they copped for his record breaking sale.

"It's okay, Jacky." You coo, tightening your arms around you as he attempts one tighter squeeze to force the tears back into him. It's a futile attempt, his arms loosening but never dropping away from you as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets those sobs shake his body. "I got you, baby. I've got you."

There was such a mix of emotions running through him that made him feel like the world had just pushed him to the ground and taken the perfect opportunity to give his body a good kicking. First final for England in 55 years, then they lost in a penalty shootout he didn't even get to be a part of after a game he barely got to play in. Then a holiday he couldn't take with you because of work commitments and a sudden coworker needed sooner maternity leave meaning your holiday was completely eliminated. As if those things didn't dampen his spirit, all that transfer business had gone down and it was finally all hitting him.

His exhaustion had caught up, an inevitable burn out that could be messed only by the presence of you in his life. Some of this tears that stream down his cheeks and pool on the grey material of your t-shirt are ones of joy and relief for finally having you back in his arms again for the first time in far too long of a time. Jack vows he will never ever spend that amount of time without you again. Never will he let so much time pass before he gets to hold you, kiss you and tell you face to face how much he truly loves every single thing about you.

"You're my rockstar, you know." You announce, seemingly out of the blue ones his body wracking sobs had died to smaller sniffled and period tears streaking down onto you. "I've literally never been prouder of anyone in my life ever. Not only did you fucking smash the euros, but then you stayed so sweet and so amicable during such a difficult process. You handled everything so well, J. I'm so proud or you and I'm so, so happy for you." You promise, pushing him back so you can take his blotchy, tear streaked face in your head. The expanse of that face is coved in your kisses, pecked all over the surface until he's giggling like the Jack that you know so well, his laugh the most contagious sound you've ever been lucky enough to get to hear on a daily basis. "And I'm so lucky that you let me share this journey with you." You finish, landing your lips softly and perfectly onto his with a warmth and love he had been desperately missing out on for those last vital few weeks of his break.

"S' our journey," Jack mumbles in response against your lips, pulling back every so slightly so he can get a proper good look at the face he had missed so much in person. Your cute quirked eyebrows and confusion tainted eyes make him smile before he elaborates. "Not my journey, it's our journey together. All of this, just the two of us."

His words make your heart sore, flying up onto the space above you in pure glee. You had to admit there was a mild element of fear wondering if he would want you here or if he'd maybe be wanting fresh start, but that was certainly not the case for Jack.

"I love you," he says as you feel him tuck you right back into his chest with a content hum. "I love you too, but you need a wash."

Jack's laughter bellows loudly from his chest beneath your ear at your lightly playful and yet very truthful statement.

"I ran you a bubble bath for you. Bathroom's huuuuge." Your eyes are full of wonder like he thought they might be when he would get the opportunity to bring you out to his temporary Manchester abode. This is you would both stay until he could find a house to place some money down on so he can truly start to settle out the fact he's going to have the next six years of his life here in this area with this club. It makes him more than happy, being here. But something that tickles him in thought as he follows you up the stairs is that he'll get to experience all of this newness with you. You’ll get to explore the new area together, find nee places, making it home together. You had both known Soulihull like the back of your hand, now you could find new places to just be together. He can go house hunting with you. He'll let you drag him through the houses he probably wouldn't otherwise look so much into, talking about what room could be which and silly little things he wouldn't even have noticed.

He could pick a house with you that would have enough room to start a family in together within the next year or so, like you had been hoping to do depending on what the club and transfer season had brought. This brought stability, a team that would function well without a reliance on him if there were some things he had to sit out in order to build this family.

It had been, unbeknownst to you, such a pivotal part of discussions with the Manchester City agents. Jack made it clear he was looking for stability and trophies. He had done so much for Villa and now it was time for him to invest energy in bigger fights with bigger clubs that don't face relegation so constantly. He made it clear to the managers also that the was looking to be in the business of starting a family sometime soon. He was welcomed with open arms still. A club who wanted him desperately and would probably have caved to many more demands from him, not having a fraction of an issue with negotiated paternity pay and leave.

He couldn't wait to find a house and settle down here with you for the foreseeable future, even if things didn't look exactly as he thought they might've looked when you first got together as merely young adults.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, eh?" You ask softly, running your fingers gently through his tangled and sweaty hair as he stands there in the middle of the large bathroom. Jack shrugs. There's so much in there today, not really like usual where he could sort through those thoughts and keep his head clear for every day and every game he faces.

"Just stressed," he huffs, allowing you to help him out of the brand new away strip he had been given at the beginning of the day today for his first first game with the new team.

His muscles are achy and tight, body still stiff from the cold that the rain had battered into his limbs as you easily hook off his boxers and tug them down his legs so he can step over the bathtub into the perfect temperature bubble filled water that makes him heave out a heavy sigh of relief the second it meets his skin.

"Talk to me, baby?"

And talk to you he did after he sat down in that bath with you.

He leaned back against you, allowing you to lather shampoo into the hair he trusted very few people with multiple times to massage the ache out of his skull from the previous days tension headaches. He talks about all those messages from so many unhappy people, some even City fans who didn't even want to entertain the idea of him being there. He talks about his worry of sitting on the bench season after season, telling you he was hoping to god those tweets wouldn't be further from the truth. He confided in you some of his greatest pains; the concept that he'd let his Villa teammates down and maybe even made his family unhappy despite the fact they had given him nothing but their full support and unsurprising pride just like everybody else in his immediate circle.

You massage muscle relaxing soap into all of the muscles in his body as he just talks, letting the weight of the world off of his shoulders to dissipate like the steam in the air from the bath. Only once he has everything off his chest and the waters gone cold do you both leave the bathroom, wrapped in towels then into pyjamas where he wraps you up in his arms like he's been desperate to do since the moment he touched off for International duty months ago, and he talks again.

This time, he talks to you instead of just talking out every worry and fear he's ever had.

Jack uses probably the most amount of words he's ever used in such sensible succession in order to paint you a perfect mental picture of a house just outside the city with a huge garden, fenced in for dogs and kids with a pool and enough room for all three of those future kids to have their own room, even though they'll share at first just for fun. He paints a picture of you at his games with two sons and a daughter, his name on each shirt along your back. The kids will call Foden uncle Phil and they’ll love him just like you both do. They'll get to play with the teams kids on the pitch after the games no matter how tired the guys are even if they've been thrashed in a loss. He depicts the kind of life you had both wanted for so long, somehow always deterred by something until right this moment, the time feeling like it had rolled perfectly into place for both of you.

And Jack tells you about how you'll poke fun at him when he starts to get those salt and pepper strands of hair and he'll love you no matter how you look. Your kids will learn what love is from their parents, they'll pick it up and they'll emulate it in their own lives sometime in the future. They'll stamp out hate with the hearts full of love that you will both allow those kids to grow into.

You both fall asleep together that night, wrapped in each others arms drifting off into dreams of kids that don't exist yet in a house you haven't even looked for with a future that each of you wants nothing more than to grab onto with both hands.

Jack's heart hurts for the changes he's made this week. He doubts the pain will ever fully leave him and he hopes that one day his club will welcome him back to end his career on a high note with them. However, until then the pain will be dulled by the prospect of his new future here.

One he can't wait to get stuck right into.