#let's explore...some dark greens together...

[llycaons]

studios sometimes alter character color palettes for the anime tho...see utena being originally blond, kurapika's eyes changing color, etc. I think priest should have brown eyes personally. in the manga he and leah also have somewhat similar designs in their civvies but on the cover his hair was a lot more ashy than leah's bright blond hair, so it would be a lot easier to distinguish them...there's so many blond ppl in this manga tho it's wild

another thing I noticed staring at the covers was almost everyone has pupils of two different colors - witches, humans, and demons. you see it in the manga as another ring within the pupil, but on the covers you can see they really do have two-toned eyes, or eyes with a ring of another color around the outside

it's a cool idea and very distinctive - and verge's demon mark matching his eye is fun - but some of these color choices...

[b1eedthefreak]

Touching You

daryl x reader

warnings: smut but this has some plot guys, fingering, neighbor hears them

⸻

You got to pick the house.

Daryl insisted.

Even though he grumbled the entire time about how it was all too clean, too fancy, too quiet. Even though he muttered under his breath about “people starin’” and “ain’t right, livin’ like this.” Even then, when Deanna gave the two of you the go ahead to move into one of the spare houses, Daryl barely waited half a second before nodding and saying, “She picks.”

You’d walked the street with his hand in yours, taking it all in. The houses were big. Peaceful. Front porches with swings. Green lawns. You were half scared it was a dream. But Daryl never let go of your hand, and when you finally pointed at one with a brick walkway and a little flowerbed out front, he just nodded.

“’S nice,” he said, squinting up at it. “If you like it, we’ll take it.”

That was it. Your first house.

He carried you over the threshold as a joke and nearly fell into the wall doing it, but you couldn’t stop laughing, couldn’t stop kissing his face. The two of you had never had a space that was just yours. Never had a door you could lock, or a bed that didn’t creak, or a living room with a damn TV. It didn’t matter that it was all a little too quiet, or that Alexandria still felt surreal. What mattered was Daryl. His toothbrush next to yours. His boots by the front door. The way he kept doing laps around the house that first night, muttering, “Too big. What the hell we need all these rooms for?” before coming back to wrap himself around you on the couch like a damn vine.

“Don’t need all that shit,” he’d said, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Jus’ need you.”

That night, after a long, quiet dinner and a hot shower (which somehow turned into two), you curled up together in your new bed.

TV on. Just static and noise, something old and recorded. A cartoon, maybe. Daryl didn’t seem to care. He was laid out shirtless in just his sweatpants, hair still a little damp, eyes fixed on the screen like it was the first time he’d seen a TV in a decade. Which it probably was.

You were next to him, curled into his side, wearing nothing but a pair of soft panties and one of your oversized shirts, nothing underneath. You hadn’t expected to feel so relaxed. But something about this new space, the warm blankets, the sound of Daryl breathing next to you… it made everything feel safe. Real.

You felt his hand first.

Heavy on your thigh. Warm and familiar. At first, you didn’t think anything of it. He did that sometimes when you were anxious or having a hard night, he’d just rest his hand there, rub gentle circles into your skin. Comfort. Love. Steady.

But then his fingers moved.

Slower. Higher. Not rubbing anymore, more like exploring. His pinky brushed the hem of your panties, then dipped just underneath. He hadn’t said a word.

“Daryl…?” you whispered, glancing over.

He didn’t look at you. Just kept watching the TV like nothing was happening.

His voice came low. Raspy. “Keep watchin’. You look good like that…”

Your thighs clenched a little. Your breath hitched as his fingers dipped deeper, slipping beneath the waistband. The heat of him against your skin made your stomach flutter.

“Daryl…” you tried again, but his hand pushed lower and you gasped, hips shifting.

“Don’t gotta be quiet,” he murmured. “Ain’t no one gonna hear us now. House’s ours.”

His thumb found your clit, slow and sure, and you jolted, your hand gripping the blanket beneath you.

“Fuck—” you whimpered.

He finally looked over at you, eyes dark, half lidded, hungry. “You really think I could lay next to you like that? Wearin’ that an’ not touch you?”

You tried to glare at him, but it fell apart the second his fingers started rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit. Your legs parted instinctively, giving him more room.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Lemme in, baby…”

You bit your lip, breath catching, and he grinned.

His fingers rubbed tighter circles over your clit, and your back arched so hard your shirt slipped up, exposing more of your stomach. Daryl’s eyes flicked down, drinking you in bare legs tangled in the sheets, thighs twitching, hips shifting forward like you were chasing his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice rough and thick with heat. “Fuckin’ soaked already.”

Your hand flew to his wrist, but it wasn’t to stop him, it was just instinct, grounding yourself, because his fingers were making your brain melt.

He grinned. That little crooked smirk he barely ever let out. “C’mon, girl. Let me hear you.”

You whined, head tilting back into the pillow.

“You said—” you gasped. “Said to keep watchin’…”

Daryl chuckled low in his throat. “Changed my mind.”

He dipped two fingers lower and slipped them inside you, slow and deep. The moan that left your throat was soft and sharp, like the first crack of thunder in a storm. You turned your face into his shoulder, trying to muffle it, but he caught your chin in his free hand and made you look at him.

“Don’t hide from me. Wanna see you.”

Your lips parted on a shaky breath as he curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that made your hips jerk. Your thighs shook, and he groaned at the way you clenched around him.

“Fuck… ya feel that?” he whispered, eyes heavy. “Tight as hell…”

His other hand slid up your shirt, rough fingertips grazing your stomach, then higher, until he was cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple.

You gasped again. “Daryl…”

He leaned in close, his forehead touching yours. “I got you. Just feel good, baby…”

Your body was a mess of heat and trembling, rocking into his hand like it was the only thing keeping you alive. The sound of the TV barely existed anymore, just faint voices and background noise to the real show happening right there in bed.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Y’don’t gotta be quiet. Ain’t no one here but me.”

You finally gave in.

A moan tore from your lips, high and desperate, and Daryl groaned like it wrecked him.

“Yeah… that’s it baby. Let me hear ya fall apart.”

Your hand scrambled to hold onto something. His arm, the pillow, anything—but the only thing solid was him. His fingers inside you, his voice in your ear, his mouth now on your neck, sucking soft and slow.

You came so hard you nearly cried.

Your body went taut, hips jerking forward as you moaned his name over and over, clinging to his back while he kept pumping you through it, slow and deep. He whispered praises the whole time, so pretty, that’s my girl, so fuckin’ good for me, ride it out baby…

When you finally collapsed into his chest, shaking and gasping, he kissed the top of your head and tucked you close.

The TV kept playing like nothing happened.

The next morning, the kitchen smelled like toast and shitty instant coffee. You’d thrown on sweats and padded downstairs, sleepy and sore in the best way. Daryl was behind you, sleep rumpled with his shirt still half off, hair all over the place.

You froze in the doorway.

Tara was at the table, raising her mug. “Mornin’ lovebirds.”

You blinked. “Uh… morning.”

She gave you a look. And then deadpanned:

“Maybe next time close the window yeah…?Sound travels.”

Daryl froze behind you. You felt his hand tighten slightly on your waist.

You choked out a laugh.

Tara just shrugged. “I mean, I’m not mad. Just impressed.”

Daryl groaned into your shoulder. “Ain’t leavin’ the damn house ever again.”

⸻

a/n i was inspired to write this while watching twd i watched three full episodes while writing this anyways i luv daryl he’s so cute

[leejenowrld]

unwrap me

pairing — kim jungwoo x reader 

word count — 7k words 

genre — smut, explicit sexual content, soft sex, riding, cock bouncing, dom! reader, blow job, big cock jungwoo, very soft christmas love 

synopsis — jungwoo teases you all night about being impatient to open your presents early, but when you get to the last box under the tree, all you find is a note that reads, “your real gift is waiting upstairs.” when you find him in the bedroom, he’s sprawled across the bed, shirtless with nothing but a red ribbon tied low around his waist, his smirk equal parts playful and sinful. “go on,” he murmurs, his voice dropping as his eyes darken, “unwrap me.” what follows is him letting you take control, your hands and mouth exploring him as he groans beneath you.

The living room glowed with the kind of warmth that only Christmas Eve could bring. The golden twinkle lights wove through the branches of the tree, reflecting off the ornaments with a quiet sparkle. Each decoration told a story—hand-painted baubles from your first Christmas together, the tiny wooden reindeer Jungwoo had found at a market and insisted on buying, and the slightly crooked star on top that he’d placed there with a proud grin. The fireplace crackled softly, its embers casting flickering shadows against the walls, while garlands of faux pine lined the mantel, intertwined with red berries and warm white lights. A plush cream rug stretched beneath the tree, scattered with wrapped gifts, and the cozy, mismatched throw pillows on the couch bore faint traces of flour from earlier, evidence of the cookie chaos Jungwoo had happily instigated. The faint hum of holiday music played from the record player near the window, its sound blending with the occasional pop of the fire, while the soft scent of pine, vanilla, and spiced cider lingered in the air, mingling with the sweetness of the cookies cooling on the counter in the kitchen just beyond.

Among the warmth and festive glow, Jungwoo’s Christmas tradition made the day feel even more intimate. His tradition was one that you both cherished and cursed every year. He would stagger gifts throughout Christmas Day, handing you one every two hours like clockwork. Today is no different. Some were small—a favorite chocolate bar wrapped with unnecessary precision, a pair of fluffy socks he knew you’d live in, or a handwritten note telling you how much you meant to him. Others were more extravagant—a skirt you’d casually mentioned months ago, a piece of jewelry that caught your eye during a random stroll through town, or something handcrafted, like the delicate wooden jewelry box he made just for you, engraved with your initials and lined with velvet.

Later, he gave you a book you’d been eyeing for months, complete with his own annotations on the margins of the first chapter, a mix of teasing notes and sweet affirmations. By mid-afternoon, a pair of hand-knit mittens emerged, soft and perfectly sized, with your initials stitched into the cuffs. Then came a tiny glass vial of cinnamon oil. “For the candles you love,” he said, trailing a kiss to your temple as he handed it over. Every gift felt so perfectly you, so thoughtful and intimate, that by the time evening fell, the pile had dwindled into memories you’d carry with you long after the day ended—yet one box, larger than the rest, still sat unopened, its promise wrapped in crimson and tied with his golden flair for mystery.

Jungwoo lounged on the floor, leaning back against the base of the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him. His green sweater clung to him just enough to hint at the lean frame beneath, the hem riding up slightly as he shifted to get comfortable. His plaid pajama pants hung low on his hips, and his bare feet poked out from under the fabric. He looked effortless, the soft light catching in his dark hair, his profile serene yet utterly magnetic.

His gaze flicked to you then, catching the way your fingers toyed absentmindedly with the ribbon of the unopened box beside you, your curiosity peeking through your feigned patience. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he tilted his head, watching you with quiet amusement, the subtle twitch of his brow letting you know he wasn’t about to let you off the hook anytime soon. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone low and knowing, breaking the silence between you.

You look down at the small, neatly wrapped box in your lap, its crimson paper almost glowing under the tree lights. “I just don’t understand why I can’t open it yet,” you say, your fingers brushing over the glossy gold ribbon. “It’s already way past the time I should’ve opened it.”

Jungwoo smirked, his lips quirking up at the edges as he leaned forward slightly. “Because good things come to those who wait. Patience, baby—it’s part of the fun.”

You gulp at the tone of his voice and his choice of words, the way they settle over you like a quiet challenge, but you don’t let him see that. “I’m being patient,” you say, huffing softly, though the growing anticipation in your chest makes the words feel like a lie.

His laugh was quiet, a deep, rich sound that seemed to settle in the space between you. “Baby, you’ve been trying to sneak peeks at that box all night. I saw you shaking it earlier when you thought I wasn’t looking.”

You shoot him a playful glare, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you. “I wasn’t shaking it. I was… testing its weight.”

“Testing its weight?” he repeats, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. His eyebrow quirks, his gaze steady and soft, but there’s a spark of knowing mischief behind it, the kind that makes your stomach flip. “That’s the story you’re going with?”

The truth is, he probably can see right through you. He always can.

“Jungwoo,” you said, setting the box aside and narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“And you’re cute when you’re frustrated,” Jungwoo says without missing a beat, leaning back again with a satisfied grin.

You huff, your eyes narrowing as his attention diverts to his phone. Taking advantage of his distraction, you quietly reach for the ribbon on the crimson-wrapped box, your fingers moving to untie it. Before you can even loosen the knot, his hand darts out, stopping you with effortless precision, his other hand still holding his phone.

He doesn’t even look at you. Instead, he tuts softly, his tone a gentle warning. “Don’t even think about it, baby.”

“Jungwoo!” you exclaim, pulling your hands back with a mix of frustration and embarrassment at being caught so quickly.

Earlier, your curiosity had gotten the better of you, but he’d intercepted you just as easily, his smug grin and quick shake of his head enough to remind you who was in charge of the gift schedule. “This one,” he had said, his voice laced with playful authority, “is the one you’re going to open last. Stop trying to fight me on this. Rules are rules, baby.”

You’d groaned, flopping back onto the couch in mock defeat. “Why do you always do this to me?”

“Because I like seeing you like this,” he had replied, settling beside you on the edge of the couch. His fingers brushed over your knee, his touch light and teasing as he leaned in closer. “You’ve been impatient all day. It’s cute.”

You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms. “Well, you had the chance to let me open it earlier, you know, when it was actually time for it according to your schedule—but you got too distracted. That’s what you get.”

His grin only widened, mischief glinting in his eyes. “I got distracted? You were the one who kept begging me to let you ride my cock!”

Your face burned at the memory, your cheeks going pink as the heat crept up your neck. You opened your mouth to argue, but the vivid image hit you before you could form the words.

You’d been kneeling by the tree, rearranging the gifts, when you felt him slide up behind you, his hands ghosting over your hips before settling with deliberate possessiveness. Without a word, he had pulled you back, guiding you effortlessly into his lap. The soft fabric of his pajama pants teased against your thighs, and the golden glow of the Christmas lights bathed his face as you glanced over your shoulder. You’d expected his usual playful smirk, but his expression had been darker, more intent. The teasing was gone, replaced by a hunger that made your stomach tighten.

He’d leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “It’s time for your final gift of the day.” His voice was low, dripping with promise, and it had sent a shiver down your spine. But instead of focusing on the gift, your mind had gone somewhere else entirely. You’d turned, clinging to him, your voice breathy and desperate as you begged him to take off his clothes. You’d panted against his neck, your words tumbling out between shallow breaths, your need eclipsing every ounce of patience you’d pretended to have all day. The neatly wrapped gift had been discarded on the floor, forgotten as your hands roamed his chest, pulling at his sweater until he gave in.

He hadn’t made you wait long. His hands gripped your hips with a firmness that left no room for hesitation, guiding you down onto him in one smooth, deliberate motion. The stretch stole your breath, your knees digging into the plush rug beneath you as you clung to his shoulders, your nails pressing into the soft fabric of his sweater. The quiet snap of elastic and the rustle of discarded clothing had faded into the background, replaced by the wet, rhythmic sounds of your bodies meeting and the faint crackle of the fire. 

You moved desperately, bouncing on his cock with a need that bordered on frantic, your thighs burning as you chased every inch of him, the way he filled you, the way he groaned low in his chest with each roll of your hips. The golden lights of the tree blurred into a shimmering haze as your head tipped back, your breath catching in shallow gasps. His hands never left you, one sliding up to splay against your lower back, pulling you closer, while the other stayed firm on your hip, his grip grounding you even as the heat between you built into something that consumed every thought, every sense, until the rest of the world disappeared.

Afterward, you’d rested against his chest, your breaths still uneven, your skin flushed and trembling. His lips had brushed your ear, soft and teasing as he murmured, “I can’t wait to see your face later.” The moment had been perfect then, the scent of pine and cinnamon mingling with the heat of his skin, but now, as you sit in the aftermath, you regret it.

That’s what happens with greed. The gift he’d been saving, the one you’d begged to open, had been left forgotten in the haze of your impatience. You’ve learned your lesson now—patience really does make things better. If only you’d listened.

Now, as he tosses a sock at you from another opened gift, his grin only deepens when he catches the flustered look on your face. “You’re remembering it, aren’t you?” he teases, leaning forward slightly, his eyes glinting with the kind of knowing that makes your stomach flutter.

“Shut up, Jungwoo,” you mumble, but the way you avoid his gaze gives you away entirely.

Without a word, he reaches behind his back and pulls out a small gift, wrapped in familiar crimson paper. Your eyes widen as you gasp softly, your surprise lighting up your face.

This was another gift, not the one you had your eyes on, not the one you’d been silently hoping for all evening, but it was Jungwoo’s way of keeping you on your toes, always surprising you with the unexpected and reminding you that he knew you better than anyone else.

You sit up, putting your arms around his neck and dragging him down until his forehead rests against yours. You kiss him softly, your lips lingering just long enough to leave him chasing after you when you pull back. “Another gift? Baby, you shouldn’t have,” you murmur, the warmth in your voice softening the teasing edge.

He leans back slightly, watching as you eagerly tear into the wrapping paper. His gaze drifts over the curve of your shoulder, his eyes tracing the way your fingers tug at the ribbon and the soft furrow of concentration on your brow. His smile softens, the sharpness of his teasing melting into something more tender, though he quickly masks it when you glance back at him.

“More socks?” you ask, holding up the fuzzy pair with a raised brow, your voice filled with playful disbelief.

“Hey, don’t underestimate those. Your feet are always cold,” he says, snatching one of the socks from your hand and tossing it at you with a grin.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out of you as you giggle, “You know I’ll always steal yours.”

He leans forward, his lips brushing over your cheek before trailing down to your neck, his warm breath fanning against your skin as he presses soft kisses along the curve of your throat. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “That’s why I keep giving you more—so maybe, just maybe, I’ll actually get to keep a pair for myself.”

You laugh softly, tilting your head back as his lips linger, but before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you fully, his lips soft but insistent against yours. Without thinking, you drag him down, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he lets himself fall on top of you, the two of you collapsing into the plush rug beneath the glow of the Christmas tree. Laughter bubbles between you as you both settle there, the moment so warm and natural it makes your heart ache.

But Jungwoo doesn’t stay down for long. With a grin, he sits back up, reaching behind him to grab the box—the one you’ve had your eyes on all day. He holds it out with an almost ceremonial flourish, the corners of his mouth twitching as he watches your reaction.

“Really?” you ask, your eyes wide as your hands hover near the box, almost hesitant.

“Go on,” he says, his tone gentle but filled with quiet anticipation.

The paper is smooth under your fingers, the gold ribbon tied in a perfect bow that you hesitate to undo. The lights of the tree reflect off the crimson wrapping, making it look impossibly perfect. You glance up at Jungwoo, your heartbeat quickening at the way his gaze never leaves you, steady and intent, as though he’s watching something he’s been waiting for all day.

You untie the ribbon carefully, your hands suddenly clumsy under the weight of his eyes. The wrapping falls away slowly, revealing a plain white box. When you lift the lid, your breath catches.

Inside is a single white envelope.

You look up at him, confused. “This is…”

“Open it,” he says, his voice impossibly soft now, his teasing gone, replaced by something deeper.

Your fingers tremble slightly as you slide the envelope open, pulling out the card inside. His handwriting is neat, each letter deliberate, and your chest tightens as you read the words:

Your real gift is waiting upstairs.

Jungwoo leans in slowly, his lips grazing your cheek in a kiss so soft it feels like a whisper, lingering just long enough to draw a shiver from you. His warmth presses into your flushed skin, the intimacy of the gesture spreading heat down your spine. When he pulls back, his gaze locks onto yours for a moment—steady, teasing, and impossibly affectionate—before his hand moves behind his back. He returns with something familiar, the black silk blindfold you’ve shared so many times before, its texture as soft and inviting as the look in his eyes.

Your breath catches, the sight of it setting your pulse alight. “Jungwoo,” you whisper, your voice trembling as anticipation and excitement twist together in your chest.

His lips curve into a knowing smile as he leans closer, the faint scent of him—clean, warm, utterly him—enveloping you. His breath brushes your ear, sending a ripple through your body as he chuckles softly, a sound so low and teasing it feels like a caress. “Trust me,” he murmurs, his voice smooth but edged with a tenderness that steadies your nerves even as your heart races.

The air around you seems to hum, the room growing warmer as his words settle between you. Your lips part slightly, caught somewhere between awe and surrender as you tilt your head up to him. He’s already standing, towering over you with a presence that feels magnetic, his hand extended toward you with quiet confidence.

“Come on,” he says softly, his tone not commanding but inviting, every syllable wrapping around you like a promise.

You let him guide you up, his hands firm but gentle as he ties the blindfold over your eyes. Without sight, every other sensation becomes sharper—the heat of his palm against yours, the way his thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the faint creak of the wooden floor as he leads you toward the stairs. The house is silent now, save for the soft sounds of your bare feet against the floor and the quiet rhythm of your breathing.

He pauses at the base of the staircase, turning you gently to face him. His free hand brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek for just a moment too long. “You trust me, right?” he asks, his voice low and steady, almost a whisper.

You nod, unable to do anything but surrender to the moment. “Always,” you reply softly.

The warmth in his gaze, though unseen, feels tangible, wrapping around you as he guides you up the stairs. Each step deepens the anticipation coiling in your chest, your heartbeat quickening with every soft creak of the wood. By the time you reach the top, your pulse is racing, your grip on his hand tightening slightly as he leads you to what you can only imagine awaits.

He stops just outside the bedroom door, his hand slipping to your wrist. His touch is deliberate, unhurried, as if savoring every second. “I’ve been waiting all day for this,” he says, his voice steady but laced with a deeper, more intimate promise.

You feel his fingers untie the blindfold, the fabric slipping away from your eyes just as he pushes the door open.

The soft light from the hallway spills into the bedroom, revealing the scene inside. The bed is illuminated by a string of fairy lights draped along the headboard, their golden glow casting a warm, romantic hue over the room. The scent of vanilla lingers in the air, subtle but unmistakable, blending with the crisp, clean scent of him. Every detail feels deliberate—the fluffed pillows, the carefully arranged sheets, the way the room seems to hum with the energy of what’s about to happen.

“Baby…” you gasp, your voice filled with wonder as you take it all in.

You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Your hands trail down his back, and you expect him to respond to your touches, his lips devouring yours, his hands gripping your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls back slightly, his gaze steady and commanding. “Cover your eyes,” he says softly.

You do as he says, your trust in him unwavering. The rustle of movement fills the room, and you hear him shifting, the sound of fabric being discarded making your breath hitch. You can’t see, but you can feel him, the weight of his presence, the quiet dominance in his movements.

“Open your eyes now,” he murmurs.

And there he is. Sprawled across the bed like a masterpiece meant only for you, his sweater and pajama pants discarded to reveal smooth, golden skin that seems to glow under the soft flicker of the fairy lights. The lean muscles of his chest and stomach catch the light, a faint sheen of warmth glistening on his skin as though his body itself is anticipating your touch. A single red ribbon sits low around his waist, its silky bow nestled just above the tight waistband of his boxers, where the outline of his cock pressed hard and insistent against the fabric. 

It’s impossible to ignore how thick and full he is, the strain of the material doing nothing to hide just how ready he is for you. Your eyes drift lower, catching on the handcuffs tied neatly to the bed frame—not yet on his wrists, but waiting, a silent promise of what’s to come. The air between you feels charged, every detail of him—his body, his arousal, his unwavering gaze—pulling you in and stealing the breath from your lungs.

The silence between you is electric, thick with anticipation and the weight of everything unspoken.

“Jungwoo…” you whisper, his name falling from your lips like a confession, barely audible but trembling with need.

His lips curl into a slow, knowing smile, the kind that makes your chest tighten and your thighs clench. He stretches a hand out toward you, his fingers beckoning as his voice drops lower, rough and sultry. “Come here, baby. I’ve been waiting for you all night.”

You crawl toward him with deliberate slowness, your gaze devouring him piece by piece. Your eyes linger on the sharp definition of his thighs, the way the muscles flex with every subtle shift, before they travel to the unmistakable curve of his cock, thick and straining against the tight fabric of his boxers. The sight alone makes your breath catch, and your hands tremble as you reach for him, your fingers brushing the heat of his skin.

You start at his legs, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the hard planes of his thighs, savoring the way his muscles tighten under your touch. His breath hitches audibly, his chest rising and falling in shallow waves, as your lips trail higher, the warmth of his body drawing you in like a magnet. His quiet groans fill the room, low and guttural, spurring you on as you reach the edge of the ribbon. Your tongue darts out, teasing the sensitive skin just below it, your breath hot against his stomach, and the way his hips jerk slightly makes your core ache with need.

Attached to his boxers is a small note, the words scrawled in his familiar handwriting: Unwrap me.

Your hands move with deliberate slowness, untying the red ribbon as you savor every sharp intake of his breath, the way his chest rises and falls under your touch. The silky fabric slips away, pooling on the sheets as you lean forward, pressing a soft, teasing kiss against the hardness straining beneath his boxers. The heat of him radiates through the fabric, making your lips tingle, and you drag your mouth over him again, this time letting your teeth graze faintly.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hips lifting involuntarily as a strained groan escapes him, the sound rough and raw. His chest rises and falls, each breath shallow as his head tilts back against the pillows.

The fire in your belly burns hotter at the sight of him, and you hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down agonizingly slowly. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the flushed tip glistening with precum. Your eyes flick up to his face, drinking in the way his jaw clenches and his lips part as he watches you.

“You gonna suck my cock now, baby?” he rasps, his voice low and dripping with that teasing edge you know too well. “Make up for how fucking greedy and impatient you were earlier? Couldn’t even wait to open your gift before bouncing on my cock by the tree.”

Your breath stutters, heat pooling between your thighs as his words sink in. He smirks, catching the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “That’s right,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on you. “Go on, then. Show me how sorry you are.”

When his cock springs free, thick and flushed, the sheer size and weight of him makes your breath catch. Your mouth waters instinctively, your hand wrapping around his base as if drawn by some magnetic pull. He’s impossibly hard, and you take a moment to appreciate the heat and texture under your fingers, the way he twitches slightly as you run your thumb over the head, spreading the bead of precum that’s already formed. He’s big, so big that you have to wrap both hands around the base just to steady him, the weight of him heavy in your grip.

You don’t tease for long. Leaning forward, you let your tongue dart out, circling the tip in slow, deliberate swirls, tasting the salt and warmth of him. Jungwoo’s head falls back against the pillows with a guttural groan, his fingers digging into the sheets beside him.

“Just like that,” he groans, his voice thick and rough, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips despite the desperation in his tone. “So fucking good… Maybe you do know how to behave after all.”

Encouraged, you press your lips to the head, taking him into your mouth inch by inch, your tongue flattening against the underside as you sink down. The stretch is intoxicating, the weight of him filling you as you hollow your cheeks and draw him deeper. The first full glide of your mouth along his length pulls a broken sound from his throat, his hips jerking slightly as he fights to stay still. The thick girth fills your mouth, the heat and weight of him sending a pulse of arousal straight between your legs.

“God, you’re so fucking good at that,” he groans, his hand tangling in your hair, his fingers flexing just enough to hold on but never forcing you. His head tilts back, his lips parted as a shaky breath escapes him. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough and full of praise. “Don’t even have to guide you… You know exactly what I need.”

You drag your tongue along his cock with unhurried precision, letting him feel every flick and swirl. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking in tandem with your mouth as you work him, your spit-slick lips gliding over him effortlessly. The sounds he makes—low, raw, and utterly wrecked—are enough to make you clench your thighs together, desperate for relief but too focused on him to care.

When you take him deeper, relaxing your throat as you push him further past your lips, his reaction is immediate. His hips buck upward, his groan breaking into a curse as his hand tightens in your hair. “God, just like that,” he moans, his voice strained and desperate. “Take it all, baby. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You hum around him, the vibration making his thighs tense under your hands. You pull back slowly, your lips dragging along his length, leaving him glistening and throbbing. Your hand replaces your mouth momentarily, stroking him as your tongue flicks against the sensitive ridge just beneath the head. His whole body jerks at the sensation, and the low, desperate sound that escapes him sends a rush of heat straight to your core.

“God, you’re going to ruin me,” he murmurs, his voice cracking as you take him back into your mouth, this time setting a deliberate rhythm. Your lips stretch around him, your cheeks hollowing with each pull, the wet, obscene sounds of your efforts filling the room alongside his ragged breaths and groans.

You glance up to find his eyes locked on you, heavy-lidded and dark with lust. The way he watches you—like he’s barely holding himself together, like every move you make is unraveling him—makes you double down, your pace quickening as you take him deeper.

Your free hand moves to his balls, cupping and rolling them gently, and his response is instant, a shuddering gasp ripping from his chest. “Fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good,” he groans, his voice breaking as his hips lift off the bed, chasing the heat of your mouth.

You moan around him, the vibrations drawing another deep groan from his lips. He’s throbbing against your tongue, every inch of him hot and heavy as you work him, your hand stroking in time with the bob of your head. The tension in his body coils tighter with every movement, his breaths coming faster, his grip on your hair almost trembling.

But you’re not stopping. You take him back into your mouth, moving faster now, your head bobbing as you hollow your cheeks and suck hard. Your hand squeezes the base, stroking in rhythm with your mouth as your tongue drags along the underside, pressing against the ridge with every pass.

Jungwoo’s body tightens, his abs clenching as his moans grow louder, more desperate. His hips lift off the bed, thrusting into your mouth as his hand grips your hair tighter.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his voice breaking as his cock pulses against your tongue. “I’m so close—don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

You hum again, the vibrations sending him over the edge. His hips jerk violently, and with a guttural cry, he spills into your mouth, hot and thick as you swallow him down. His cock twitches as you milk him for everything, your tongue still teasing the sensitive head as his body shudders beneath you.

When you finally pull back, your lips are swollen, your cheeks flushed, and your throat sore—but the look of pure bliss on Jungwoo’s face makes it all worth it. He’s wrecked, his chest heaving and his hair damp with sweat as he looks down at you, his eyes dark and full of something that makes your stomach flip.

“Come here,” he growls, the words rough and cracking with desperation as his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist and pulling you toward him with a heat that makes your breath hitch. His chest is heaving, his skin flushed and glistening, and the intensity in his eyes is almost overwhelming. “I’m not done with you,” he murmurs, his voice breaking as his grip tightens, his free hand sliding up your thigh, fingers digging into your skin.

“Get up here—now.” The command in his tone is undeniable, his voice rough and cracking with raw hunger. The way his lips part and his gaze drops to your body, devouring every inch of you, sends a jolt of need straight through you. You waste no time, climbing over him, your hands steadying yourself on his chest as you lower yourself slowly, feeling the thick head of his cock stretch you open.

“Fuck,” he hisses through gritted teeth, his fingers gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. “You’re so fucking tight… baby, I’m—shit.” His jaw clenches as you sink down fully, the movement forcing a groan out of him, raw and deep.

You start to move, rolling your hips experimentally at first before finding a rhythm, bouncing on him in a way that has his body tightening beneath you. The soreness is evident in the way he winces slightly, but the sounds he makes—low, wrecked moans spilling freely from his lips—tell you he’s not even thinking about stopping.

“God, you’re gonna kill me,” he groans, his head falling back against the pillows, his eyes rolling shut for a moment before snapping back to you, watching the way your body moves. His hips start to meet yours, the friction driving you both higher, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room along with his broken cries of your name.

You move deliberately, sinking down on his cock with slow, rolling motions that make his hips jerk beneath you. The stretch, the fullness, the way he fits so perfectly inside you—it all sends sparks up your spine, but tonight isn’t about chasing your own pleasure. It’s about him.

“Jungwoo,” you murmur, your hands pressing against his chest as you lean forward, your voice trembling but tender. “Do you know how perfect you are? How good you’ve been to me today? I just want to make you feel it. All of it.”

He groans, the sound catching in his throat as his hands grip your hips, his fingers digging in like he’s grounding himself. “Baby,” he breathes, his voice shaking, “you don’t have to—fuck—I already feel it. I always feel it with you.”

But you shake your head gently, a soft smile playing on your lips as you move a little faster, your thighs burning with the effort but your heart full. “I want to,” you insist, your voice barely above a whisper, but the conviction in it makes his breath stutter. “I want you to feel as good as you make me feel every single day. I just… I need to do this for you.”

His expression softens, though the strain of pleasure is evident in the way his jaw clenches and his lips part. “You already make me feel like the luckiest man in the world,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as his hands slide up your sides, trembling against your skin. “Every damn day. But this…” He groans again, his hips lifting to meet yours, his cock sinking deeper into you, making you gasp. “God, baby, you’re incredible.”

You ride him harder now, the pace of your hips quickening as you feel his body tense beneath you. His cock pulses inside you, the wet glide of your movements amplified by the slick heat between you. Your name falls from his lips in a broken moan, his hands gripping your waist like he can’t hold on much longer.

“I love you,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion as you press your forehead to his, your movements never faltering. “I love you so much, Jungwoo.”

“Fuck, I love you too,” he groans, his eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back. “So much. You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You kiss his chest softly, your lips brushing over the sweat-slicked skin as you keep moving, your pace deliberate and loving. Each bounce on his cock draws another guttural moan from him, his body arching beneath yours as the tension builds higher and higher.

Your eyes flicker to the handcuffs tied to the bedframe, the glint of metal catching the soft glow of the fairy lights. The idea takes hold of you, sharp and irresistible, a way to give him everything he’s given you tonight—to show him how deeply you want to love him, to please him, to worship him.

With deliberate slowness, you lean forward, brushing your hands over his wrists as you guide them upward. He doesn’t resist, his body pliant under your touch, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his gaze locks on yours. His breath hitches when you wrap the cuffs around his wrists, snapping them into place with a soft, deliberate click that seems to echo in the room, heavy with intent.

His lips part, a low, guttural moan spilling from him as his hips twitch beneath you, his cock flexing inside you. “Fuck,” he groans, his voice hoarse and dripping with need. “You’re so fucking hot like this—do whatever you want to me, baby. I’m all yours.”

Your hips roll down sharply, sinking onto his cock with a deliberate, measured pace that draws a guttural groan from his chest. The sound reverberates through you, sending a pulse of heat straight to your core.

“Good boy,” you murmur, your voice soft yet commanding as you lean down, your lips brushing over his in a kiss that’s both tender and possessive. You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes searching his for any sign of hesitation. All you find is surrender. “Let me take care of you.”

His head falls back, his lips parting as a shaky exhale escapes him. His bound wrists tug lightly against the cuffs, not in protest but in response to the overwhelming need coursing through him. His eyes, half-lidded and glassy with desire, flicker back to yours, and the trust in them makes your chest ache in the best way.

“I want to show you,” you whisper, your voice trembling but full of conviction as you plant your hands on his chest, your palms pressing into the hard planes of muscle glistening with sweat. “How much I love you. How much you mean to me. Let me make you feel it, Jungwoo.”

You bounce on him with reckless abandon, your body moving instinctively, completely consumed by the rhythm. Each upward lift of your hips is sharp and immediate, followed by a desperate slam back down, taking him so deep it leaves you breathless. Your thighs burn with the effort, but you don’t stop, your need to please him overpowering everything else.

His cock stretches you perfectly, filling you completely with every bounce, the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies meeting filling the room. Your hands splay over his chest, pressing into the hard, sweat-slicked muscles as you struggle to maintain control, your own gasps mixing with his groans. His bound wrists tug uselessly at the cuffs, his knuckles whitening as his fingers flex, desperate to touch you but unable to.

His eyes flutter open, dark and hazy, locking on the way your breasts move with every bounce. He groans, his frustration palpable as his hands continue to tug at the cuffs. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice trembling. “You’re gonna kill me. I can’t even—shit—I can’t even touch you.”

You glance down at him, your movements growing faster, more erratic, your breasts bouncing wildly with the force of it. His eyes darken as they fixate on your body, but his inability to touch you drives him wild. His hips jerk beneath you, meeting your every bounce with a raw urgency that makes your body quake. The sight of him so wrecked, so helpless under you, keeps you going. “You don’t need to touch me,” you whisper, your lips brushing over his jaw before pulling back. “Just lie there and take it like my good boy. Let me love you, Jungwoo.”

His hips buck up instinctively at your words, pushing himself deeper, and you gasp, your nails digging into his chest as you pick up the pace. Your movements become erratic, driven by the desperate need to push him over the edge. You’re bouncing so hard now that your body feels like it’s moving on instinct, your breasts swaying with every motion, completely out of his reach.

“Look at you,” you murmur, your voice breathless but full of reverence as you ride him harder, faster. “So good for me. You’ve been so good all day—so attentive, so perfect. Let me make you feel how much I love you.”

His jaw slackens, his moans breaking into ragged gasps as his cock throbs inside you, the tension in his body coiling tighter with every movement. “Fuck,” he chokes out, his head pressing back against the pillows, his bound wrists flexing again like he’s desperate to anchor himself. “I’m gonna—baby, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you whisper, your voice soft but commanding as you grind down on him, circling your hips once before slamming back down. “You’re so good for me, Jungwoo. Let go. Let me feel you.”

His bound hands strain against the cuffs one last time as his body tenses beneath you, and with a shattered cry, he comes, his cock throbbing violently as he spills deep inside you. The heat and fullness of his release push you over the edge, and you throw your head back, your own orgasm ripping through you as your body clenches and shakes around him.

Jungwoo’s chest rises and falls beneath your palms, his skin still flushed and damp from everything you’ve just done. His wrists are free now, but he hasn’t moved much, his hands resting lazily against your thighs as his dark, half-lidded eyes roam over you like he’s trying to memorize every detail. The glow of the fairy lights softens his expression, but there’s a spark in his gaze that keeps your pulse racing.

“So,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, tinged with the remnants of his satisfaction. “Was the present worth the wait?”

A grin tugs at your lips as you lean down, brushing your nose against his before pressing a soft kiss to his jawline. “Absolutely,” you whisper, your voice playful but sincere. “Best one yet.”

For a moment, his expression softens even more, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin. But then, without warning, his grip tightens on your hips, and before you can process what’s happening, you’re on your back, the cool sheets beneath you sending a shiver up your spine.

“Jungwoo—” you start, but the words catch in your throat when his hands grab your wrists, pinning them above your head with surprising ease. His grin is slow, wicked, and full of intent as he reaches for the handcuffs you’d only just taken off him.

“I have one last gift for you,” he says, his voice lower now, rich and teasing, with just enough authority to make your breath hitch.

Your heart pounds as the cuffs click around your wrists, securing you to the bedframe. His hands linger, his fingers brushing over your skin as he leans down, his breath warm against your ear.

“Stay still, baby,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a smirk that sends a jolt of anticipation through you. “This one’s going to take a little patience.”

[stayevildarling]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader-Shot in the dark

A/N: got this idea a while ago while playing pool ❤️

tags/tw: g!p Natasha + fem reader, seduction, dom Natasha, sub reader, pure filthy smut, Natasha receiving (blowjob), Reader recieving (oral), unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 3.2k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

The bar within the Avengers compound is filled with energy, guys relaxing after the latest mission, the girls dancing and laughing together as they order another round of shots. You make your way towards the pool table, needing to unwind in your own way and not having been with them long enough to make some actual friends. You relax a little as you make it to the table in the corner, away from the crowds, getting ready to line up your first shot before you hear a certain redhead appear behind you.

„Need some help with that, newbie?“ she teases and you turn to face her, noticing her piercing green eyes on you almost instantly. Natasha leans against the nearest wall casually, her smirk sharp as her eyes travel up and down your body.

„I think I have got it“ you reply, trying to keep your voice steady and ignore the way the redhead made you feel. For weeks she had been teasing you, small remarks but never enough time to let the conversation go further as some type of Avenger emergency almost always kept you from exploring this further. And you couldn‘t help the way the Black Widow made you feel with her gaze, the sublte biting of her lip mid conversation.

Natasha strolls over casually but nothing about her posture is casual, calculated and confident as she stands behind you. „You‘ve got potential sure, but there is always room for improvement“ she teases, swallowing hard as you feel the heat of her body against your own. „Oh and you are the expert?“ you tease, trying hard to keep your composure and stop your body from reacting, knowing it was only going to give her satisfaction.

Her lips form into a grin at your words „I‘ve been known to handle a stick or two in my life“ she laughs but before you can respond, her hands slide over yours, adjusting your grip on the cue. She presses in closer, her breath warm against your ear „Relax your shoulders“ she instructs, her voice filled with authority as she tells you that you are far too tense.

It was impossible not to notice how her chest brushed against your back, the solid weight of her body keeping you grounded and flustered all at once. „Like this?“ you ask, though your voice betrays you. „Almost, you gotta focus on the ball and not the distractions“ she tells you as you feel her body shift closer, her hands on you for just a moment too long. „Though I can tell why you are distracted“ she teases with a smirk as she moves back, giving you the space to shoot your shot.

You glance over your shoulder, your cheeks burning as you whisper „Do you flirt with all of your students?“ you tease, causing a low chuckle to escape her. She leans back just enough to let her eyes roam over you fully „No“ she shrugs casually before she carries on „Just the ones I can‘t stop thinking about“ she whispers, causing your eyes to widen and your body respond in a way it hadn‘t before.

Your breathing hitches as you try and focus back on the game but as you turn you notice the tremble in your hands. And Natasha being Natasha, of course she notices, knowing exactly what she is doing. She leans closer again before whispering „Why don‘t we make this interesting? if I win, you will let me take you out tomorrow“ she invites and your eyes widen at her statement.

„And if I win? make the shot?“ you ask meeting her gaze. „You won‘t darling“ she chuckles, leaning her head on her hands as she balances her elbows on the table, eager to watch you shoot your first shot. „Fine“ you mutter in fake annoyance but both of you knew this excited you more than it should and so you happily accept her challenge, giving it your best shot. But of course in the end the Black Widow beats you but you didn‘t exactly mind, her promise lingering in your mind as she told you to meet her tomorrow at 8pm by the cars when you parted ways.

The day passed as slowly as it possibly could but when it‘s finally time to meet the former assassin, you couldn‘t deny the pounding in your chest and the fluttering of your stomach. Her car is already waiting for you and by the time you get inside you knew exactly you chose right for tonight, black skirt some tights and a leather jacket, knowing those were her weakness, the redhead not the only one knowing how to play this game. She tries to play it cool as she drives off, focusing on driving but you could tell she couldn‘t keep her eyes away from you and neither could you, not with the suit she is wearing the woman knowing those be your weakness even if those aren‘t usually her type of thing.

„Where are we going exactly?“ you ask as you glance at her and she chuckles before simply shrugging and telling you to be patient. The drive feels painfully slow, the anticipation slowly building between you both and if it was up to you she could go straight back, take you to her bed and finally give in to what you both clearly wanted since you joined the Avengers weeks ago. But Natasha enjoyed this game too much, seeing you squirming under her gaze, seeing how impatient you are and how this was giving her exactly the satisfaction she was after. By the time you finally pull up, you are surprised to see her pull up at a bar, slightly more fancy than the one within the compound but still not what you had in mind.

„A pool bar really?“ you tease as she walks you inside, having opened the door for you, her manners impeccable as always. „I thought I‘d beat you again but in front of total strangers this time“ she chuckles which causes you to raise your eyebrows. The Black Widow leads you inside, the place buzzing with people, music and for a moment you feel a little overwhelmed by the neon lights and crowds. And somehow the redhead can tell, swiftly leading you to one of the tables in the corner where everything is much more intimate and quiet. „So, newbie“ she begins, a teasing grin on her lips „What‘s your drink of choice?“. You think about it for a moment before looking into her eyes „Martini“ which causes her to raise an eyebrow. You lean in a little before whispering „dirty“.

A devilish smirk appears on her lips before she nods, walking over to the bar and swaying her hips more than necessary on the way over. You roll your eyes in amusement, beginning to chalk the cues before lining up the balls on the pool table. You glance around the filled place for a moment, seeing all the people dancing, drinking and playing games but for some reason the only thing your eyes travel back to is Natasha, standing at the bar with a confidence that nearly takes your breath away. Her attempts had been obvious, some of the other Avengers even teasing you about it and a part of you couldn‘t believe the Natasha Romanoff was attracted to you. After all she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Unaware that she thought the same about you, that she could see through the gaps and see how deeply you cared and just how alike you both truly are.

By the time she returns, she passes you your drink, seeing how she opted for the same choice, and you both raise your glasses for a moment before focussing your attention on the pool table. „Wanna start?“ you ask with a raised eyebrow, knowing exactly what the answer was going to be. She nods before she takes her first shot, of course with practices ease potting several balls and you can‘t help but feel challenged, wanting so bad to win and have the upper hand. By the time it is your next go, your nerves get the better of you, despite the intimacy of the corner table you have, barely anyone there, her eyes on you are enough to make your body tremble. Her green eyes are focused on your leather jacket, the skirt that hikes up just a little as you go on your tip toes to align your first shot. „Nervous darling?“ she teases before you shake your head in fake annoyance.

„Let me help you“ she offers but you make the shot before she can reach you, of course potting anything but your color and instead potting the white ball. She simply smirks as she begins her second go and you can‘t help the shaking of your hands or the way your heart flutters seeing her actions. „This is how you do it“ she teases, leaning forward, exposing her chest and how suddenly the top two buttons of her shirt have opened. And you knew she must have done that on her way to the bar, knowing you couldn‘t resist and keep your eyes from her. She licks her lips seductively before she takes her next shot and leaves you trembling. Your shaky legs barely make it to the table and this time you allow her to move behind you, guide her hands over yours and you can‘t help but feel how they fit so perfectly in your own. „Like this“ she encourages and you can‘t help but turn your head and glance at her, seeing her signature red lipstick so close to your own lips and feeling the desire to capture them in a kiss.

But instead you focus your attention back on your shot, actually doing well this time and potting several balls of your color. The two of you continue this game for a while longer until the heat of the situation gets to you and you take off your leather jacket, exposing the somewhat see through top exposing your bralette. You miss the way her eyes lingered, how she stepped behind you again, her breath hot on your ears. But this time as she steps behind you, you feel something different, the tip of something pressing against your back. And suddenly the world stops for a moment as you take a step back. „I need to- I‘m gonna use the bathroom“ you excuse yourself, leaving Natasha behind, a flustered mess as she watches you go.

You desperately needed air. And thankfully the bathroom is empty, giving you a moment to splash some cold water on your face. Just as you are about to step into one of the stalls however, wanting to close the door, a firm hand keeps you from closing it and you see Natasha standing there, the neon lights exposing her flustered and needy features. „Did I make you uncomfortable detka?“ she questions, her voice smooth as you shake your head. „Can I?“ she asks politely and you let her step inside as she locks the door behind you both. „Nat, are you.. wearing a strap?“ you ask a bit confused before a low chuckle errupts around you. „You didn‘t know?“ she asks almost in surprise and you shake your head when the pieces fall into place.

„The question is.. do you mind?“ she asks, this time there being something raw in her voice and features, almost as if your consent matters more to her than this whole game, than her or your own desire. „No“ and when the word comes out, almost a low moan, her pupils blow as she leans in, capturing your lips in a fiery kiss that leave you gasping for breath. „Tell me what you want“ she moans in between the kiss and you can‘t help the way your body betrays you as she slams you into the nearest wall. „You“ you breathe out, causing her to smirk into the kiss. Her hands cup your cheeks as she leans in further and this time you have her gasping for breath as you fumble with the zipper and buttons of her trousers. Almost with ease you drop to your knees in front of her, admiring the view as you pull her boxers down, exposing her hard cock and you almost gasp at the size of it, causing the woman to chuckle lowly.

One look for approval is enough on both of your parts before you take her hardened cock into your mouth with ease. Natasha tries hard to keep her composure, to keep her dominance but your experienced tongue, having you on your knees like this is making it impossible. She can‘t help but moan as she grips your hair, guiding you despite the perfect job you are doing. „God detka“ she breathes out and you try hard to supress a gag, not expecting her size at all when finding out about this moments ago. Despite it all, seeing her so perfectly above you, forcing her eyes shut as the tries hard not to cum inside you.

You enjoy this far more than you should and with a loud pop you let go off her cock, leaving her dripping with pre cum and a shaking mess. She stares at you in disbelief as you adjust your hair and clothes, kissing her cheek before whispering „Want more of this? take me home“. Her pupils blow yet again as she smirks, getting herself dressed again before she takes you away, hastily paying the bill before grabbing you and your things and leading you to the car. She is quick to zoom through the night sky, getting you both back to the compound. It takes everything not to take you right there in the car, in the elevator as you look at her with those eyes. The former assassin practically drags you into her room before she completely loses her composure, pushing you against the wall as she rips your clothing off, leaving you in the dark red lingerie you had chosen for tonight.

„God you‘re perfect“ she moans as she presses her lips onto yours again, stumbling to her bed as she throws you down, attacking your lips and neck as she hungrily hovers above you. „Take me Tasha“ you whisper and if your actions and words hadn‘t proven her that you are perfect beyond her imagination they definitely have now. She fumbles with her own clothes, quickly ridding herself of the suit before her mouth hungrily explores your body, starting with your neck, your perfect breasts as she takes them into her mouth, giving you a taste of what‘s to come soon. You are a panting mess as she draws out the sweetest noises from you, balancing on her knees as she finally gets to where you want her the most. She can‘t help but smirk as she meets your glistening core, keeping eye contact as she lowers herself and begins licking through your folds, collecting your juices with ease.

She can tell just from her tongue that you are close and when she enters you for a moment, she can feel how tight you are already, so ready and eager to be pleased by her. „Please“ you whine as she kisses your lips, letting you taste your arousal on her mouth. „Please what?“ she teases as she reaches for something on her table besides bed. „Fuck me Nat“ you moan but when you see her fumble with the condom packet you can‘t help but take it and throw it across the room. „Fuck that, I want you“ you pant and her eyebrows raise in surprise, not having imagined you to be nearly as dirty as this. She wastes no time in kneeling in front of you again, opening your legs as you spread them for her perfectly. She carefully aligns herself as she meets your eyes one more time for consent.

And the second her hardened cock enters you, you are both done for. She fills you up with ease, giving you time to adjust before she fully sinks into you. Natasha begins slowly, almost too sensual for your liking as all you want her to do is pound you senseless. And the older woman can tell, by the way your hips are wiggling, your mouth slightly ajar and your eyes fixed on her own. „More.. fuck.. me like you mean it“ you moan and thats all Natasha needed, seeing your boobs bounce, your hips bucking and your eyes forcing shut as she begins pounding into you at a ruthless pace. „I have wanted to do this so long detka“ she moans as she feels your wall soak her up so perfectly, so tight and ready for her already.

„Tasha“ you moan, incoherent noises and words falling from your lips as she fucks you like you had never been fucked before. Throughout her ruthless pace and own desire, she still takes the time to caress your body, as if you are the most sensible thing on this planet. She can‘t help but smirk all while squeezing her own eyes shut, trying not to cum too fast. „I need more“ you mumble as you throw your head to the side, fisting the sheets as she fills you up so well. And of course Natasha obliges, raising your leg and leaning it against her shoulder, the new position allowing her to pound into you even faster and harder than before. The moment the position changes she hits your sweet spot over and over again, causing tears of pure bliss to fill your eyes.

„I‘m gonna cum“ you somehow pant but as she stills her movements your eyes practically rip open, needing her so bad. „I can‘t hold it“ she admits but you don‘t care, moving your leg and pulling her right on top of you all while she is still inside you. Your legs wrap around her back as you look into her eyes. „Fill me up, I don‘t care“ you pant and that was the moment Natasha knew you are the one, so perfect, so obedient and so damn filfthy. She fucks into you at a ruthless pace and mere seconds later you feel her juices filling you to the brim. „Nat“ you pant uncontrollably as you try coming down from your high, her body on top of yours and mere chests touching causing you to suddenly shiver under the intensity of it all. „Breathe detka“ she instructs, your features bright red as she wipes some sweat from your forehead.

The two of you lay there for a while, neither of you caring about cleaning up, neither of you caring to talk about what just happened. All you could feel right now is the pure bliss of it all, Natasha having made you feel like no one ever had before. And the Black Widow couldn‘t help but think of how perfect you are, how well you took her and that she for sure wasn’t going to let you go anywhere anytime soon. By the time you both snap out of it, you feel her playing with your hair gently, head still resting on your chest as her eyes meet your own. „Not so bad for a newbie after all?“ you tease causing her to chuckle lowly and roll her eyes before stealing another kiss. „Not so bad at all“ she smirks before the two of you end the night in each other‘s arms.

[0tivez]

and there was only one sleeping bag

synopsis: you're sent on a mission with levi. once nighttime arrives, you realize you've forgotten your sleeping bag. will you be too proud and sleep on the ground in freezing cold or accept levi's offer to share the sleeping bag?

characters: levi

warnings: afab reader, tight space, unprotected sex, handjob (giving and receiving), mdni

wc: 2k

note: yes it's been literal years, yes it's out of nowhere. but tbh i needed this more than you guys probably will enjoy it. maybe not my best work but give this hag a chance, i haven't written ANYTHING in years. also yeah sorry about that.

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you let the cold soil embrace your feet. you feel all your tiredness leave your body and flow into the ground, as the heat of the bonfire levi has set leave soft, familiar kisses on your bare face. it’s been a long day of riding around the forest for a preliminary investigation for titans before the expedition begins once more, hoping it’d decrease casualties. erwin has assigned his two best soldiers for a daytime exploration, levi and you. you should have been back to the main camp by now, but two 15 meters had other plans. if only you weren’t caught by surprise, it would be child’s play, but you were. eliminating smaller threats, you were ready to return back when two fuckers appeared out of nowhere and attacked you. thankfully, you had managed to survive with minimal damage. as much as you wished you could travel back during the night when it’s the safest, you were too worn out to continue without some rest. so, you planned to rest for a few hours before heading back while it was still dark.

levi was wandering around the forest to look for dry branches while you let the heat relax your muscles. you hear levi coming back with a bunch of wood in his arms.

“we should have been on the move. i should feed you to any titans we’ll see tomorrow.” he nags. his tone is always serious, yet so un-intimidating to you. you stop taking his threats seriously when you receive them everyday.

“aah, you probably won’t have a hard time. i probably taste better than you anyway” you respond. levi clicks his tongue in response, you can feel his face go sour without even looking at him.

“we should sleep. the fire should scare wild animals away.”

“no night shifts? i thought you weren’t tired.”

levi scrunches his nose and furrows his brows. “i’m not going to spend four hours staring into the fire. i’ll try to sleep a little too.” you shake your shoulders in response.

levi turns around and approaches his horse as you take off your jacket and lay it on the ground. levi stands above you with a shocked face.

“what the hell are you doing?”

you look at him, confused. “making my bed.” only then you see the green bag in his hands. “what’s that?”

“it’s my sleeping bag, dumbass. where’s yours?” right, sleeping bag. the warm, cozy bag you sleep in. the one that’s resting in your tent back at the main camp.

levi sighs before you can even say a word. he hands the bag to you. “what kind of a soldier are you? take mine, i’ll sleep on the ground.”

you take offence immediately at levi’s mean remark. “it was supposed to be a daytime mission! i didn’t want to carry too much weight. and i don’t want your stupid bag. i’ll sleep on the ground.”

“tch. you’ll freeze to death. stop being annoying, take the bag.”

you throw the bag at him and turn your back against the bonfire and lay on the ground. levi’s not surprised at your stubbornness, he also knew you’d be shivering before he even fell asleep.

and you did.

levi saw your body trembling on the ground, he knew you’d be too proud to admit being wrong.

“just come here. sleeping together will make us both warmer.”

you humph and get up. levi has unzipped his bag and opened it to let you in. only then you realize, he’s half naked. you only see his pale skin and chiseled abs before turning around and letting a tiny scream out in shock.

“what the hell, you perv? why the fuck are you naked?”

levi sighs. “to increase heat circulation inside. you should take off your clothes if you want to get warmer too.”

“the hell? i’m not getting undressed you freak!”

“god, i won’t look. stop being annoying and get inside or i’ll just sleep here by myself.”

you stomp your feet on the ground in annoyance and quickly unbutton your shirt and get rid of your pants. you find levi with his eyes closed waiting for you to enter his bed. so you do. you snuggle inside the bag and zip it.

your cold back gets in contact with levi’s warm, bare chest. the space is too tight for things to not be erotic. it’s just, undeniable. you can feel every curve of his abs on your back, and you can’t help but notice how perfectly your ass is positioned in front of his bulge. you’re sure levi is aware of it too, but tries not to show it.

the awkwardness only increases once you and levi realize that his arm’s stationed in a weird position. he mumbles something you can’t make out and drops his arm down. his right arm is now wrapped around your waist. the sudden touch of his skin on your waist sends shivers down your spine. all the blood rushes to your cheeks, you can’t help but feel aroused by this sudden situation.

you turn your head to glance at levi. to your surprise he’s not asleep, not even pretending to be asleep. he simply has his brows furrowed, looking directly onto your face. your eyes meet for a second, before both of you move as if on command, directly against each other.

levi’s hot lips press upon your shivering lips. levi sucks in all the coldness out of you. his kiss is enough to send shivers down your spine. you feel the heat rise from below, slowly creeping up your spine. levi’s hand that’s wrapped around your waist tightens its grip. he’s gently kneading the soft skin around your torso before crawling up on your chest. you try to breathe in between kisses. it feels like levi’s on a mission to choke you out with his lips. he shows his incredible stamina once more, he hasn’t broken the kiss for a moment, and you’re a breathless loser.

you hold levi’s hand on your body and guide it on your boobs and under your bra, allowing him inside somewhere you never thought you would. levi’s fingertips play around your nipples as he bites your lower lip, sending too many signals to your body all at once. you free your right hand and grab levi’s face, pushing it further into yours. levi’s hand explores all over your breasts; kneading them and tracing around them as if he was trying to picture it in his mind. and god, you don’t even know how much levi wishes he could bury his face on your chest right now. because he can’t suckle on your nipple, he compensates with your soft lips instead. he sucks on your lower lip that has gotten wet and slippery from his sloppy kisses. he tugs, bites, and sucks on your lips. he’s too drunk on you to realize how much your soft moans have aroused him, he’s too focused on pleasuring himself with your lips.

you can feel his erection grow bigger on your back, fighting for you to play with it. you trace your hand down his body from behind your back down to his underwear. you play around the edge of his boxers as he continues to mark your lips. it’s the first time you hear him moan once you slip your hand inside his boxers and palm his erection. you let his cock fill your cold hands. his dick pulsates on your hand with the sudden touch of coldness. you can feel his eagerness, and how much he was offended at how easily you made him moan. you got a glimpse of his sly smirk on his face before he quickly sent his hand down your underwear as well. you rub his cock up and down as he takes his slender fingers down your wet folds. he nuzzles on your neck and sucks on the soft spot right down your jaw. he puts his wet fingers on your clit and starts circling around it, teasing you to beg for more. you don’t beg nor response, only let your fingers continue rubbing his cock. except this time, you let your fingers wait a little longer on his tip, which you figured out was his sensitive spot once he moaned with your first touch. levi instinctively bites your neck in frustration, and accepts his defeat. he starts applying pressure on your clit before rubbing circles on it. you feel the numbing pleasure wash over you.

it doesn’t take longer than seconds before levi whispers “fuck it” with a raspy and furious voice. he frees his throbbing dick and quickly moves your panties to the side. his pebbled sweat drops on your naked shoulder, yet it doesn’t bother you. you were now gasping for the cold air that once almost killed you.

levi lets out a low moan as he enters his tip. the tight space gives you very little room to move around, you have nothing else to do other than take it, take him. levi slips his cock inside with a swift motion without trouble. his masterful fingers have already prepared your hole for him. levi sighs out of relief and lets your warm, wet cunt welcome him. he enjoys the sight of you squirming next to him, waiting desperately for you to move. your eyes are shut close, eyes filled with tears, forehead covered in sweat, and lips agape with lust. he takes the sight in.

he thrusts his hips in the confined space. even though his movements are limited, he hits the spot too well. you scream in pleasure, so much that levi is almost scared he hurt you. he hastily moves again before you moan “more, levi, please” that drives him mad. he pushes his hips steadily, every move so powerful and effective. he pushes his thumb on your clit and starts playing with it. bolts of shock travel through your body, the pleasure almost too unbearable. his cock stretches your walls every time he enters you. your soft skin slaps against his balls with every thrust, the mumbled slapping sound echoing through the silent forest. the only other noise that fills the void is your desperate moans that call for his name. “levi, levi, levi…” his name never sounded better.

levi once again locks his lips with yours. he’s working all around you. your body is locked with his, you are under his control fully. his unreal stamina weakens you. you grow weaker as he continues to drill into you. you make sure to stay conscious enough to savor his low moans on your lips, a mission too hard for you at this moment.

your body is at its breaking point, and levi knows it. he knows you’re close, but he won’t let you cum until he’s ready too. he can feel your body as if it was his, or at least you think. he measures every movement; it’s almost like he can also feel when you’re close because that’s when he breaks his pace. that’s when the numbing feel in your chest dies down a little, only a little before levi picks it up again. he plays around with your body. he chases after you, he tries to catch up to you.

“levi, please” you beg him, and the sight of you drives him to the edge. you lay beneath him, face turned against him, your nails digging on his biceps to control yourself, cheeks wet from tears and sweat. you almost look like a painting, so beautiful and delicate.

levi doesn’t hold himself back as he made you do. he lets you clench around his cock with all your power before breaking apart under him. he empties himself inside you with a low moan that harmonizes with yours. you both crumble under the lustful touch of the other, fingers traveling around your bodies still.

your body finally falls limp. you’re gasping for air, almost as if you had just left a battle. levi releases hot breaths on your skin as his head falls on your neck. his soft lips touch your neck as he speaks again in a low and ordering voice as usual.

“i might have to reconsider feeding you to the titans.”

i missed levi so much i love him so much aot is still the most goated anime of all time ong and levi HHRRRAGAGGGHHH WOOF WOOF BARK BARK

[prettyfastcars]

rumours about you | Mob!Lando

Summary: You’re not necessarily happy regarding the announcement your family just made – about how you would be marrying one of their allies’ sons in order to unite forces and what not. You had multiple issues with your family making major decisions about your life just like that, but the main one was that you disliked the one they chose for you to marry. Lando. So you decided to confront him, thinking the two of you would work together and find a way to call off the wedding. But Lando has other plans. 

Themes: arranged marriage, smut, explicit language, enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies ish, degrading kink, dom!lando, slightly bratty!reader

“I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes.” 

When you showed up to his house – or mansion rather – earlier, his butler told you to wait for him in his study room. The butler also said that Lando would be home soon. You were not very patient at the moment given the unsteadiness of your life, so waiting for half an hour was driving you insane. 

Had it not been for the multiple bookshelves to explore and inspect, you would’ve surely lost it. 

Lando paused briefly at the doorway upon hearing the sound of your voice. Then he walked into the room in that arrogant manner of his, that maddening smile on his face, and shut the door behind him. 

The bastard knew he looked good and he flaunted it always. Nice and muscular, that tailored, dark suit looked damn good on him. Little bit of facial hair, brown curls on his head and those damn pretty eyes. Not to mention those natural, extra long lashes that would make anyone jealous. 

He smirked when he caught you checking him out. “Apologies,” He said, “But your future husband is a very busy man, you might wanna get used to it.” 

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the large desk, watching said future husband as he walked straight toward the mini bar and began making drinks. You noticed he grabbed two glasses so at least he was polite. But you weren’t here to have drinks and chit chat. So you got straight to it. 

“I want you to call off the wedding.” You said. 

“This is the third time we’re having this conversation.” Lando sent you a look before turning back to focus on the drinks. “And I’m asking you again, why would I do that?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment. You two had had this conversation twice already. And each time, Lando would just send you home without listening to what you had to say. 

“Because…” You trailed off, then tried again, “Because we would be miserable together. I mean,” You chuckled humorlessly, “Marrying to unite forces? Really?” You sounded disgusted, “That’s so old fashioned.” 

Lando finally walked away from his minibar with two drinks in his hands. He sipped on one and when he made it over to you, shamelessly letting his eyes roam all over your body before he handed you the other glass. You accepted it and took a sip as well. It was some kind of spiced whiskey, and you welcomed the burn. 

He shrugged, sliding one hand into his pocket. “I see no problem with it,” He said, looking you deep in the eyes with his bluish green ones. “It’s been happening for decades in both our families. It’s made us strong, powerful, and wealthy.” 

You closed your eyes and sighed, “Then go find someone else. I don’t want to marry you.” 

Truth is, you’d known Lando and his family since you were a kid. Dinner parties, galas, birthdays, family vacations, he was always around. And you disliked him even as a child. He was too loud, too popular. Then he got older and got hot, then slept around like it was his job. The rumours that circulated around about him were… not very pleasant. 

Lando raised an eyebrow at you. “Why not?” He teased. “I’m perfect.” 

You gave him a fake smile and said, “I would rather marry someone who is less of a manwhore.” 

He chuckled. “That just means I have more experience.” He stated, then leaned closer and whispered into your ear, “Experience that I can use to turn you into my perfect little wife. Both in and out of the bedroom.” 

You scoffed, “You’re disgusting.” 

“I’ve been called worse things, princess.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Look just… call it off.” 

He asked, “Why don’t you do it?” 

“You think I haven’t tried? They won’t listen to me. They say I’m just throwing another tantrum. Like I’m some kind of child.” You stated, finishing your drink and leaning against the desk again. Lando stepped closer, invading your personal space, looking at you like you were some kind of oddity. “What are you doing?” You hissed. 

He finished his drink and said, “Just thinking about how I’ll handle your tantrums in the future. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours, I’m very good with brats.” 

You should’ve known this would be useless. So instead of arguing, you said to him, “If we ever get married, I will never let you put a finger on me. You hear me?” 

The asshole smiled like he was looking at a little puppy. “You’re cute when you try to stand your ground, princess.” He said in a lowered voice. “But we both know you’ll turn into a puddle the moment I touch you.” 

Then his hands were on you, holding you by the waist as he pulled you into him. Chests pressing together, you were speechless for a moment as you stared into his pretty eyes. He smelt so good too. 

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Lando smirked, “What did you think you were doing, huh? Showing up at my house in a tiny little dress, asking me to call off the wedding, accusing me of being a whore too.” He chuckled. “You’re a mess, babygirl. Don’t you see it?” He asked. “A complete brat who needs some taming.” 

He also noticed the way you clenched your thighs together, like you were craving friction down there. 

“Don’t you see you need me?” His voice was softer now, and still condescending. He leaned in and whispered, his lips brushing against the side of your mouth as he did, “I can help. I can make you the most perfect wife for me. Obediently, polite,” He chuckled, “And dirty, but only for me. I’ll handle all your tantrums in private, and I’ll be so, so good to you.” 

You couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your mouth at the sound of his words. They should’ve offended you, they would’ve if it wasn’t for the wetness gathering in your flimsy underwear. 

He was so close, his lips just an inch away from your own. His scent was driving you insane. You knew whatever was gonna happen from now on would change everything. But you couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to. 

So when he brought his hand in between your legs and slid it up your dress, you let him. You let out a gasp when he cupped you down there, instinctively rubbing his fingers against your dripping wet folds. 

Lando scoffed, “See? Told you you’d turn into a puddle.” You whimpered as he lazily circled your clothed clit, smearing your wetness around. “Filthy, little brat.” He chuckled, then pushed your underwear to the side to touch you properly. You let out a loud moan and he smirked, pressing his lips against yours but not kissing you yet. 

“Please…” You begged. 

“Please what?” He scoffed again as he slid a finger inside you and felt you clenching hard around him. “Still want me to call off the wedding?” He teased, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you. “Answer me, what do you want? Hmm? You want to come like a good girl or do you want to be a haughty brat and cause a scene?” 

He stroked you so perfectly, so slowly that it made you lose your mind. “Please, Lando…” You gasped. 

He added another finger as he chuckled darkly. “Look at you,” He taunted, “Showing up here again and again, acting all tough and assertive. Thinking you can tell me what to do? Hmm? You think this is how it’s gonna work?” He pulled away a little to look at your pleading eyes. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll teach you everything. I’ll worship your entire fucking existence. I’ll fuck you until you forget your own name. And in return all you have to do is be a good girl, and eventually, my wife. Yeah?” 

You nodded a little too quickly. He laughed. 

“No more of this call off the wedding nonsense. You hear me?” 

You nodded again. 

“Good girl. See? You’re learning already.” He removed his hands from in between your legs and said, “Get naked, and bend over my desk.” 

As if under some kind of spell, you obeyed immediately. You took the dress off, then removed your underwear and dropped all your clothes into a little pile. You took one look at him and he pointed at the edge of the desk, so you did as he asked. 

As your cheek pressed against the cold surface of the polished wood, your hands laid palm down on each side of your head, you could hear him behind you as he took his suit jacket off and probably also rolled the sleeves of his button up shirt to his elbows. 

Then you felt his hands on you again, rubbing up and down your sides, your hips, your back as he pressed his clothed erection against you from behind. Another whimper escaped your mouth when you felt it. Warm, and hard, rubbing against your wetness. 

He bent down and whispered into your ear, his chest pressing lightly against your back, “You see how nice it feels when you’re obedient, baby?” He trailed his fingers down your spine and in between your legs again. 

You squirmed under him, against the desk. Breathing heavily as he took his time and touched you like he was in no rush. You whined as he touched a sensitive spot inside you, “Please… stop teasing me,” You sounded just as desperate as you were. 

He kissed your ear, making you shiver just at the mere touch of his lips, before saying, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” 

The sound of him undoing his belt and lowering his zipper made your heart race. You felt his rough, but warm hands on your body again as he grabbed you on either side of your hips before pressing the tip of his cock against your hole. But he didn’t slide his cock inside of you yet because of course, he wanted to make you suffer some more. 

“Are you gonna behave from now on?” He asked, sliding the tip of his cock up and down your slit, making you whine and cry out in desperation. 

“Yes…” You whispered. “Yes, just please–,” 

The sound of his hand slapping your thigh cut you off. Followed by a slight sting which made you squirm and whine some more. Lando’s voice was deeper now when he spoke, “What did I say about ordering me around? Hmm?” 

You tried to push back into him but he pulled away chuckling each time you did. So finally you said, “I’m sorry.” 

“Good girl,” He whispered, slowly pushing inside you until he filled you up, feeling your walls tighten around him immediately. “Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel like fucking heaven.” He groaned, muttering under his breath as he fucked you with shallow thrusts. 

Lando grabbed your wrists and pinned them down at your lower back, using it as leverage to fuck deeper into you, harder, faster. He laughed when you began whining even louder, mumbling incoherently as he fucked you. 

“Sure you wanna give this up, baby?” He questioned, gradually building up his pace. “You sure you don’t want this little pussy to be full of me each night? For the rest of your life? Huh?” 

The sound of of you two fucking was driving you insane. 

“You’re gonna be addicted to this cock now, you’re gonna want it all the time.” He boasted. “But you can only have it when you’re a good girl, you hear me?” 

His breathy moans, his raspy voice, your body bumping against the desk with each thrust, the sound of metal from his belt clinking together, it was all too much, too good. 

“Please…” You whimpered, begging for more. 

“Yeah? This is all you needed, isn’t it, baby? Acting like a disobedient brat, thinking you make the rules, all of it just because you needed to be fucked and put in your place, huh?” He growled, tightening his grip on your wrists as he fucked you harder, feeling your walls getting tighter around him. 

You whined, “Lando… I–” 

He cut you off quickly, “Hold it, don’t come yet.” 

He thrust his cock harder into you, making your eyes water and your heart race. Then he just stopped, abruptly. Pulled out and pulled you up from the desk, turning you to face him. 

“You didn’t think it was gonna be that easy, did you?” He grabbed you by the chin as he spoke, staring deep into your eyes. You could barely form a thought. Lando just scoffed and leaned in to kiss you, hard, before pulling away and saying, “Get down on your knees.” 

Lust-drunk and under his spell, you did. You got down on your knees in front of him. You watched how he grabbed his cock at the base and guided his tip over to your already open mouth and said, “Now be a good girl, and suck.”  

You opened your mouth wider as he slowly pushed himself deep into your mouth. He grabbed the back of your neck and gently guided you. 

“That’s it. See? You’re learning already? That’s how a good wife sucks her husband’s cock,” He hissed in pleasure. You looked up and met his pretty eyes. He looked down at you like you belonged there, kneeling before him with his cock in your mouth. 

You felt his smooth skin along your tongue, tasting his precum as he groaned and hissed in pleasure. You whimpered, circling his tip with your tongue before sucking on it gently. 

“Look at me.” 

When you looked up at his handsome face, he said, “Fuck… you’re so beautiful, you know that? Come on now. Up.”  

Lando had you sit on the edge of the table again before he stepped in between your legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck immediately, fingers sliding into his curly hair as he leaned in to kiss you again. It was a deep kiss again with him growling into your mouth with impatience. 

He kissed his way down your neck as he aligned his cock to your core again. He slipped inside you with ease this time, making you gasp at how good he felt as he began fucking you. 

“You feel that?” He asked, as he grabbed your thighs and pushed them further apart so he could fuck you deeper. “This cock can be all yours, baby.” He whispered, lips brushing against your own as he spoke. “You can have it anytime, all day, every day if you want.” He fucked you hard, fast and deep. Your body would’ve fallen on top of the desk had he not wrapped his arms around you to keep you close. 

You moaned incessantly, not caring if his butler or housekeepers heard. “Lando …” You gasped, “I’m so close…” You whimpered. 

He chuckled. “Are you now?” He teased. “Your little pussy feels so good… so fucking tight like it was made for me,” He whispered against your skin and you barely heard him given your heartbeats echoed in your ear, you were breathless, you wanted more. 

You whined as you felt yourself getting so close to the edge again as he pounded into you relentlessly. You felt a familiar pressure in between your legs, all of it getting too much to handle.

“Lando, please,” You cried out, looking into his eyes and silently pleading. “Please, can I come?” 

He smirked, feeling your walls clench violently around him. “See I told you I was very good with brats. Look at you no longer complaining, no longer whining about wanting to call off our wedding.” His voice sounded deeper when he spoke. Then he saw that look in your eyes, you were close to losing your mind so he finally said, “Come on then, baby. Come all over this cock.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. You came with a loud cry of his name, walls clenching around him and milking him so perfectly that he followed shortly after, coming undone while he was buried deep inside you, gripping your thigh tightly and holding you close. 

You rested your forehead on his shoulder as you both caught your breath. He wrapped his arms around your shaking body, caressing up and down your back while you held on to him like he was your everything. 

“So?” He asked in that mocking tone of his. “Still want to call off the wedding?” 

“I hate you.” You mumbled, voice muffled given you’d shoved your face into the crook of his neck. You hated how comforting his body heat was. 

Lando chuckled. “Of course you do.” He taunted. Then leaning down to get closer to your ear he whispered, “Your pussy just strangled my cock so hard I’m pretty sure it left bruises on it. But sure, you hate me.” 

You whined, squirmed a little because his words made a weird wave of pleasure wash over you. 

Lando laughed and said, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, princess.” 

[cloudyluun]

Out Of The Darkness

Summary: Y/N finds herself lost in deep subspace after an intense scene with Harry. As the emotional and physical toll of the experience starts to overwhelm her, Harry realizes she’s slipping too far away. He gently but urgently calls it, determined to guide her back from the depths with tender aftercare. As he holds her and reassures her, he struggles to help her reconnect with the present, and together, they slowly navigate the space between vulnerability and comfort, reminding each other of the deep connection they share.

A/N: hi sweet angels!! 🥺 thank you so much for reading Out of the Darkness—this one is so special to me. i really wanted to explore the softer, more vulnerable side of kink—how intense trust, aftercare, and emotional connection are just as important (if not more!) than the scene itself. this fic is deeply personal and tender, and writing it felt like wrapping someone in a warm hug after a storm. i hope it made you feel seen, held, and reminded you how powerful love can be when it’s gentle. Based on this request.

sending you all the cozy vibes, forehead kisses, and soft blankets!! pls don’t forget to drink water and check in with yourselves today

Word Count: 9,4k

Warnings: 

BDSM dynamics (consensual power exchange)

Intense subspace / subdrop themes

Mentions of emotional vulnerability and disorientation

Aftercare-heavy content

Safe, sane, consensual kink (but very emotionally raw)

Soft dom!Harry

Reader experiencing physical and emotional overwhelm (handled gently)

Mentions of crying / tears

Very intimate and introspective

Wasn’t proofread sorry!!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The room was quiet, except for the low hum of music playing through the speakers—soft, atmospheric, barely there. It wasn't anything with lyrics, just a slow, rolling rhythm that matched the pulsing dim light from the corner lamp. The air was warm, heavy with that lived-in scent of home and the subtle spice of the candle Harry had lit an hour ago. Vanilla and sandalwood. The curtains were drawn, shadows stretching gently across the walls, and everything in the room felt like it belonged to this moment—contained, intimate, untouched by the world outside.

Y/N was on her knees, her breathing slow and steady, fingers loosely curled against her thighs. She wasn't bound—Harry hadn’t gone for ropes tonight. This was about something different. It was about trust, about surrendering in a way that had nothing to do with restraints and everything to do with her choosing to stay. Choosing to give him control, and herself completely. Her eyes were cast downward, lashes soft against her cheeks, and the way her chest rose and fell said she was calm. Present. But already teetering close to that edge where the world begins to fade a little.

Harry knelt in front of her, not touching, just watching. He’d been guiding her through this for the past hour, shifting slowly from playful commands to something quieter, more intense. There was nothing rushed in the way he moved or spoke—every gesture deliberate, every word purposeful. He wanted her to feel it, to let herself sink into it fully. There had been teasing at first, a bit of light pain, some breathy laughs exchanged when she challenged him with a look or a smirk. But those had faded as the energy shifted between them, as he brought her deeper into the space they shared.

“Doing alright, baby?” he asked, voice low and smooth, one hand lifting to gently brush her cheek. She leaned into the touch without speaking, just nodding slowly, eyes fluttering closed. That small gesture told him more than words could. She was already starting to let go, piece by piece, surrendering control the way they’d talked about. He dragged his thumb along her lower lip, a ghost of a smile playing on his face as he watched her react—barely. Slower now. More internal.

“Color?” he prompted again, soft but clear.

“Green,” she murmured, almost too quiet, but not quite.

He nodded, satisfied. “Good girl.”

It landed with weight, those two words. Not just praise, but a promise. That he saw her. That she was safe. That he was right here, watching every shift in her body, every flicker of change behind her expression.

He stood, circling her slowly, his bare feet making no sound on the plush rug beneath them. She didn’t move, didn’t flinch—completely still, waiting. Trusting. The tension was thick now, not from fear, but from anticipation. She was in it with him, deeply so, and Harry could feel it in the air, the invisible thread connecting them stretched taut.

“Hands behind your back,” he said quietly, returning to stand behind her. She obeyed instantly, lacing her fingers without hesitation. He didn’t bind them—didn’t need to. The power exchange was enough. He leaned down, close to her ear. “You’re being so good for me.”

She let out a soft exhale, and he could hear it—how much she needed to hear that, how much the reassurance anchored her. Harry’s fingers grazed her shoulders, moved down slowly along her arms, not grabbing, just mapping her, reminding her he was there. Present. In control.

He took his time. There was no rush to the build-up, no urgency to escalate. This was where he thrived—slow tension, psychological depth, the long draw of anticipation. Y/N trembled slightly when his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh, but she didn’t break form. He was careful to keep checking in without overwhelming her. Whispered questions. Gentle touches. Watching the rise and fall of her breath. Watching the way her body responded before her voice did.

At one point, she wavered—not out of uncertainty, but from being so deep in it already. Harry noticed. Her knees shifted, her spine curved ever so slightly forward. It was subtle, but he caught it, and he moved closer again, kneeling behind her and wrapping one arm gently around her waist to steady her.

“Still with me, baby?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

She nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah. I’m here.”

Her voice was breathy, a little distant. Not quite gone, but slipping. He filed that away. Her edges were softening. It was early still, but she was going deeper than she usually did. He didn't panic. Just adjusted.

He ran his hand down her side, grounding her, and kissed the curve of her shoulder. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered.

The scene kept unfolding like that—unhurried, deliberate, deep. He shifted her position, had her lay on the padded blanket near the foot of the bed, kissed her lips softly before slipping a silk blindfold over her eyes. Her breathing hitched, but she didn’t protest. That was a new layer for them—giving up her sight—and it thrilled him that she trusted him enough to accept it without fear. He checked in again, a gentle squeeze to her hand, a quiet word, and her whispered response confirmed it.

Green.

He explored her slowly, using his voice, his hands, and careful temperature play to blur her awareness. Ice against her inner wrist. Warm breath against her neck. Fingertips grazing, never staying long in one place. Every reaction she gave—every sigh, every shiver—was noted, responded to, drawn out. He watched the way her mouth parted when he dragged a soft feather across the back of her knee, the way she squirmed when he pressed his lips to the inside of her arm, the skin so sensitive there. He watched her unravel with infinite care.

The deeper she sank, the quieter she became. Not silent in a distant way—just unmoored. Her limbs loosened. Her jaw slackened. Her responses grew slower, like she was underwater and everything was moving through syrup. Harry recognized it instantly. Subspace. She was slipping into it earlier than he expected tonight, and it was beautiful to watch. But it also meant he had to be even more careful now. She was vulnerable in a different way.

He leaned down, brushing his nose against her cheek. “Color?”

It took a second. Too long. But eventually, she whispered, “Green.”

Still green, but only just. The moment she said it, Harry felt a flicker of something tighten in his chest. Not fear exactly, but awareness. She was floating, and she was floating fast.

He didn't stop.

Not yet.

Instead, he adjusted. He slowed down even more, dropped his voice lower, touched her with even more intention. He wasn’t going to push her—he wasn’t trying to break her—but he wanted to see where she could go. Wanted to give her the space to explore the limits they’d talked about, to feel the surrender she’d asked for. She’d told him she wanted to go deeper this time, and she trusted him to guide her there. And he would. As far as she wanted. No further.

Her chest rose and fell in a rhythm that was no longer steady. More shallow now. Her fingers twitched when he kissed just beneath her ear, and her lips parted with a quiet whimper when he whispered her name again. She didn’t respond with words. Just the sound. Soft. Distant.

Harry moved back slightly, his brows drawing together. He brushed a finger along her jaw, her lips, watching her try to focus.

“Y/N?”

She blinked beneath the blindfold. Her lips moved, but nothing came out.

He tilted her chin gently. “Baby, can you answer me?”

A pause.

Then a whisper: “I’m… here.”

But the way she said it told him everything.

She was barely tethered. Floating. Her voice had no weight to it. Her body was completely relaxed, pliant in a way that almost made him ache. It was beautiful, but it was time.

Harry pulled the blindfold off, watching her lashes flutter open, though her gaze didn’t fully land. She was too far under.

He exhaled, brushing the hair from her face with both hands, grounding himself as much as her.

The scene had gone exactly the way she wanted. Intense. Emotional. Intimate.

But she’d given everything.

And now, he had to bring her back.

Harry stayed perfectly still for a second, holding his breath, watching her. The dazed look in her eyes, the way her lashes trembled but didn’t lift to meet his gaze—it was all there. The signs. Her breathing was shallow, her lips slightly parted, and the tiny frown between her brows said her body was still reacting, but her mind was already slipping into the haze. She looked like she was drifting through fog, floating somewhere too far from him now.

“Y/N,” he murmured again, quieter this time. A thread of emotion wound tight through his voice. He cupped her face with both hands, thumbs brushing along her cheeks. “Sweetheart, you with me?”

No answer.

She blinked once, slowly, like her eyes were moving through water. She wasn't panicking, wasn’t afraid—but she was clearly gone. Not in a dangerous way, not yet. But if he didn’t handle it carefully, the drop could become too steep. Harry recognized that shift. He knew subspace when he saw it, had seen it in her before. But tonight it was different. She wasn’t just skimming the edges. She’d fallen deep.

Her body was heavier in his arms when he reached for her. She didn’t move away, didn’t resist, but her limbs had lost their tension, her muscles too relaxed. She was warm and pliant, completely surrendered to whatever came next. It made his chest tighten in ways he hadn’t expected.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, trying not to let the flicker of worry in his stomach reach his hands. His voice was soft, measured. “It’s alright, baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

No reaction. Not even a nod.

Harry swallowed, steadying his tone. “Can you hear me, love?”

She made a small sound in the back of her throat, a breath that barely counted as a response. Her head tilted slightly toward him, but it wasn’t conscious. Not really. Her eyes had gone glassy, her lips twitching with some faraway thought she couldn’t seem to place. She was floating in that place where nothing felt quite real, where sensation blurred with emotion and time slowed down.

He adjusted, easing her back into a seated position on the padded blanket, guiding her gently with firm hands. Her body followed him, soft and loose, like a doll. She blinked again, but the world wasn’t there behind her eyes. He could see it clearly. She didn’t even know she was gone yet.

And that scared him a little.

Not because he didn’t know what to do—he did. But because of how much trust she’d given him. How far she’d let herself go. That kind of vulnerability was rare, even between them, and it hit him hard in the chest. She’d given him everything and asked for nothing but care in return.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. “You’re deep, huh?”

A breath. A barely-there sigh.

He nodded to himself. “Alright. No more.”

His hands moved with calm precision, pulling a soft throw from the edge of the bed and wrapping it around her shoulders. Her skin was warm, but he knew how fast that could shift once the adrenaline wore off. He needed to start anchoring her now—physically, emotionally—before she drifted too far to feel any of it.

Her body sagged into him when he wrapped the blanket tighter. That tiny act of pressure seemed to soothe something in her. Her head lolled against his chest, and he let her stay there, holding her without restraint, one hand running up and down her back in slow, even strokes. He kept his voice low, a steady current in her ear.

“You’re okay, Y/N. I’m right here.”

His other hand found hers and squeezed gently. Nothing back. Just her fingers lying limp in his palm. He exhaled quietly, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment. He wasn’t panicking. He couldn’t panic. She needed calm. She needed consistency. But he hated seeing her like this—so far gone that even blinking looked like effort.

Still, there was something achingly beautiful in it. The depth of her trust. The soft lines of her face, relaxed and open. She wasn’t distressed—just detached. And that was the difference.

She wasn’t scared.

But she was lost.

He leaned back slightly, his hand never leaving her arm. “Can you give me a little nod, sweetheart? Just a small one.”

Her head twitched, barely a centimeter. It was unclear if she was responding or if her body just shifted with the rhythm of his voice. He took it anyway.

“Good girl. That’s it. Just stay with me.”

The silence stretched between them, thick and full. He could hear the music still playing in the background, slow piano chords drifting through the space, but it felt miles away. The rest of the world didn’t exist in this moment. It was just her and him. The weight of her against his chest. The feel of her breath against his neck.

He checked her pulse with practiced fingers—not because he was worried something was wrong, but because it grounded him too. It was steady, slow. A little fluttery, but not dangerous. Just the after-effects of a scene that had taken her deeper than either of them expected.

“Y/N,” he said again, more firmly this time, but still gentle. “If you can hear me, I want you to take a deep breath. In through your nose. Come on, love. For me.”

Nothing.

Then, a shaky inhale.

Shallow, but it was something.

He smiled softly, brushing his knuckles along her jaw. “That’s my girl. That’s it. Just like that.”

It would be slow, he knew that. The return always was. But this—this kind of depth—would take longer. He wasn’t trying to rush her. He just needed to keep reaching. Keep showing her that she wasn’t alone in the dark.

He shifted her slightly, letting her body drape sideways so he could cradle her more easily, her head resting against his collarbone now. She whimpered faintly, some part of her responding to the closeness, the safety. His fingers slid through her hair, soft and slow, again and again, while he whispered to her.

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere. Just breathe.”

The blanket slipped slightly, and he adjusted it, tucking it around her legs, rubbing gentle circles into her knee with his palm. Her skin twitched beneath his touch, sensitive, raw, but not resisting.

Her head moved, just barely. Like she was trying to say something. Her lips parted again, a soft noise escaping. Not a word, but a feeling. He caught it anyway.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his throat tight. “You don’t have to talk yet. Just rest. I’ll do the talking.”

His thumb brushed over her cheek again. Her face was flushed, her lashes damp at the corners. Had she cried? Maybe. Subspace could do that—blur all the boundaries until everything poured out. He’d hold that for her too. All of it.

“You were amazing,” he said quietly. “So strong for me. I’m proud of you.”

Her fingers twitched in his. Not much, but enough that he noticed.

He kissed her temple, lingering there for a long beat. She smelled like warmth and skin and the faint spice of the candle.

Everything in him softened.

Even now, when she was unreachable, she was still choosing to be with him. That kind of trust wasn’t something he took lightly. It wasn’t just about the scene or the play. It was about the space they built together. The way she let him see her when she had nothing left to give.

He held her tighter, not smothering, but firm. Secure.

“You’re safe,” he whispered again. “You’re not alone.”

Another small breath. Her lashes fluttered again. Still no words. Still drifting. But maybe, just maybe, she was starting to hear him.

Harry's heart thudded steadily under her cheek, a rhythmic beat against her temple, but his chest was tight. Every breath he took felt heavier now, like something inside him had clicked into a different mode. The part of him that thrived in control—the one that could read her like a book, respond with perfect timing, guide her through any scene—was now yielding to something else entirely. Not panic. But something close. Awareness. The kind that settles in your stomach with a quiet thud. She was too far. Too soft. Too silent. Not gone in a dangerous way, but gone in a way that made it clear he needed to stop.

His eyes scanned her face again, looking for some flicker of connection. A sign that she was aware. Present. But her gaze was vacant, unfocused, and every time her lips parted, it was like a thought tried to surface but didn’t quite make it. Her body rested heavily against his, limp and surrendered, and while it was beautiful—achingly so—it wasn’t sustainable. Not for where she was now. Not for what she needed.

Harry exhaled slowly, pressing a long kiss to her forehead. “Alright,” he whispered, letting the words settle in the space between them. He moved gently, loosening his hold just enough to shift their position, his hands never leaving her body. “Okay, love. That’s enough now.”

He guided her with care, repositioning himself so they were face to face. Her body swayed slightly with the movement, unresisting. Her head lolled a little, and he caught it quickly with one hand, steadying her chin.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “I’m calling it, baby. We’re done, alright? You gave me everything. You did so good.”

Still nothing more than a whisper of breath against his skin. No nod. No shift. Just her body pressing instinctively into him, like his touch was the only thing anchoring her now.

His tone softened further, almost pleading. “It’s okay, love. I’ve got you.”

He said it again—not because she hadn’t heard, but because she needed to hear it more than once. Because sometimes words don’t sink in the first time, not in this state. She was floating too far out to grab them fully. So he kept speaking, slow and steady, letting the cadence of his voice wrap around her like the blanket still tucked around her shoulders.

Inside, though, Harry was wrestling with himself. Not visibly, never that. He kept his face calm, his hands steady. But there was a war happening in the quiet spaces between his words. He’d seen subspace before. He’d been here with her before, too. But not like this. Not quite this deep. Not where her responses were this slow, where the line between pleasure and overwhelm blurred so thin that even he couldn’t tell which side of it she was on anymore.

He had to make the right call, and he had to make it now.

A part of him wanted to see if she’d come back on her own. Wanted to trust that she’d find her way, like she had before. But something told him that wasn’t fair to ask of her this time. She’d gone deeper than she knew, and waiting too long could turn this from an intimate high to an emotional freefall. He wouldn’t let that happen.

So he shut it down, gently but completely. No hesitation in his actions now, even if his heart still squeezed every time he looked at her dazed expression.

He shifted her into his lap fully, one arm around her back, the other cradling her head. Her face pressed against his collarbone, her breath hot and shallow. He rocked them slightly, letting the motion soothe them both, grounding himself as much as her. The blanket rustled softly around them, and the room held its silence, dim light flickering gently across the walls.

He kept whispering to her. Telling her she was safe. That she did well. That he was proud. And all of it was true. But beneath the words, there was a thread of guilt he couldn’t quite shake. Not because he’d pushed her too far—they had clear boundaries, and he’d watched her carefully. But because there was always that voice in the back of his head that whispered: Should I have seen it sooner? Should I have stopped earlier?

He hated that voice. It wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t productive. But it was persistent.

His fingers traced soft lines up and down her spine, the rhythm meant to soothe. But inside, he was tightening under the weight of responsibility. He didn’t need to be perfect. She never asked him to be. But he wanted to be. Wanted to be everything she needed—her guide, her anchor, her safe place to land. And right now, that meant being calm even when his own chest ached with the urgency to make sure she was okay.

Her lips brushed against the side of his neck, not a kiss, not deliberate. Just a reflex, maybe. Or a sign that she was trying to orient herself again. He closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling against her temple.

“That’s it, love,” he said softly. “Come back to me.”

He repeated it like a prayer, quiet and full of care. He wasn’t trying to pull her out too fast. That could do more harm than good. He just needed to be there, ready, while she made her slow return. He didn’t need her to talk, or move, or even understand yet. He just needed her to know she was held.

Time moved differently in this space. Seconds stretched. Minutes lingered. He didn’t look at the clock. He just kept holding her, kept grounding her with his presence. Every now and then, she’d shift slightly, like her body was trying to remember where it was. Her fingers twitched once, curled faintly against his thigh. He took it as a sign, however small.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, pressing another kiss into her hair. “Just breathe. That’s all you need to do right now.”

His hand moved to her cheek, cupping it gently. Her skin was warm beneath his palm, soft and flushed. She didn’t lean into it, not yet, but she didn’t pull away either. That was enough for now.

And still, the voice inside him stirred. Wondering if he should have eased them out of the scene sooner. Wondering if she’d felt overwhelmed before he saw it. Wondering if she’d felt alone, even for a moment. The thought made his chest ache.

He pushed it down, not because it didn’t matter, but because right now wasn’t about him. He’d unpack all of that later. When she was back, when she could tell him with words how she felt and what she needed. But for now, he just had to be steady. Gentle. Unshakable.

So he kept whispering. Kept holding her close. Kept rocking them slightly back and forth in that tiny world they’d created. He let his voice wrap around her like a lifeline.

“It’s over now, baby. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

And even though she didn’t say it back, even though her eyes were still unfocused and her breath still shaky, he knew she heard him.

Not with her ears.

But with whatever part of her still knew he’d never let her go.

Harry held her a little closer, as if that alone could tether her more firmly to the present. He could feel her heartbeat where her chest pressed against him—still slow, a little uneven. Her breathing was shallow, drifting in and out of rhythm, like she was hovering between sleep and something deeper. He didn’t rush her. Didn’t speak right away. Just let her feel him, the solidity of his arms around her, the warmth of his skin, the steady, quiet way he breathed through his nose.

Finally, he tilted his head slightly so his lips brushed her temple. “You’re safe, sweetheart. Just breathe for me.”

The words weren’t just words—they were deliberate, grounding, gentle. He repeated them, softer this time, and let the silence that followed stretch between them like a bridge. Slowly, he felt her fingers twitch again, her head shift just barely against his shoulder. It was like her body was trying to catch up with her mind, still working out how to function now that the intensity of the scene had passed.

Harry adjusted the blanket around her, carefully tugging it up over her shoulders and tucking it beneath her legs. Every movement was deliberate, slow, never abrupt. He knew the sensation of coming down could feel like free-falling if you weren’t held properly, so he made sure she was cocooned in warmth. Every adjustment he made was a quiet promise—I’m here, I’m watching, I won’t let you go.

He reached behind him for the glass of water he’d set aside earlier, anticipating the moment she’d need it. When he gently nudged it against her lips, she didn’t respond at first, just let it rest there. So he whispered again, “Just a little sip, love. Just to help you feel better.”

Her lips parted slightly, not because she fully understood, but because she trusted him enough to let him guide her through even this. He tipped the glass just enough to wet her mouth, watching closely as she swallowed. Slow. Weak. But she did it.

“That’s it,” he murmured, setting the glass down again. “That’s my girl.”

He stroked her back, hand broad and warm, moving in steady circles. Her breathing was starting to even out, little by little, and he matched her pace, syncing his own breath with hers to help her find some kind of rhythm again.

She still hadn’t said a word. He didn’t expect her to.

Coming back from subspace wasn’t like flipping a switch. It was a climb, and sometimes your limbs didn’t work the way you wanted them to. Sometimes the world felt too loud, or too sharp, or too heavy. And Harry had learned—through time, through trust, through their conversations after scenes—that the most important thing wasn’t fixing it. It was just being there. Letting her know she wasn’t climbing back alone.

He shifted slightly, cradling her head more securely in the crook of his arm, and brought his other hand to her hair. His fingers combed through it slowly, brushing it back from her face, careful not to tug. The strands were damp with sweat at the roots, and he could feel the heat still radiating off her skin. She’d given him everything—her control, her voice, her strength—and now she was running on empty.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered against her hair, his lips barely moving. “Just keep breathing.”

She made a sound then—barely a hum, more breath than anything else. But it was different. It wasn’t random. It had weight, however small. He didn’t pause or react too much. Just let his fingers keep moving through her hair, down to her neck, then back up again. Over and over, until he felt her body start to respond to the rhythm of his touch.

He glanced down, watching her face. Her brows had softened. That slight crease in her forehead was gone. Her lips were parted just a little, her cheeks pink with the remnants of exertion and heat. She looked like she was sleeping, but he knew she wasn’t. Not yet. She was still somewhere between, still floating—but now he could feel the direction shifting.

She was starting to return.

He didn’t speak again for a while. Just let her rest against him, adjusting the blanket when it slipped slightly, brushing his hand over her arms, making sure she stayed warm. He reached for the cooling pad he kept nearby—just in case—and gently slipped it behind her back, giving her body a chance to stabilize. He’d learned the signs over time. When her body dipped too far, her temperature could drop fast, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

She shifted slightly against him, her nose brushing his chest. He looked down and saw her brows twitch together, like her mind was catching up to what her body had just done.

“There you are,” he whispered with a smile, keeping his tone light, reassuring. “Took a little trip, huh?”

No answer. But her hand moved—not much, just a curl of her fingers against his arm. Still, it was enough. Enough for him to know she was starting to feel him again.

He tilted his head to press a kiss to her forehead, long and slow, letting it linger. His lips stayed there for several seconds, not rushing the moment. Just offering warmth. Contact. Love.

Then he pulled back and brushed the hair away from her face again, this time tucking it behind her ear. His thumb followed the curve of her cheekbone, gentle enough that it didn’t startle her, but firm enough to register.

“I’ve got you,” he said again, not because she didn’t know it, but because she needed to keep hearing it until she believed it all the way down.

He felt her shift again, this time a little more purposefully. Her arm moved just enough to slip around his waist, her fingers weakly pressing into the side of his shirt. She still hadn’t lifted her head, but she was holding him now. Choosing to cling instead of just leaning.

His heart ached with tenderness.

“Hey,” he whispered. “That’s it, baby. Come on back.”

She let out a shaky breath, a little more defined this time. Like it caught somewhere in her chest before leaving her lungs. It wasn’t quite a sob, but it was raw, and it made him hold her tighter without hesitation.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the side of her head again. “I know, love. It’s a lot. Just take your time.”

He didn’t press for words. Didn’t ask if she was okay yet. He’d wait. She didn’t need questions right now—she needed presence. And he’d give it to her for as long as it took.

The pads of his fingers traced soft circles along her shoulder. Slow, mindless. Grounding. The kind of touch that didn’t demand anything from her but reminded her she wasn’t alone in her body. That she was loved in it, no matter how out of it she felt.

He reached for the water again, easing the glass to her lips once more. “Just another sip, love. Then we can lie down if you want.”

She opened her mouth slightly, this time more on her own. He helped her drink, just a little, before setting the glass aside. Her breath shuddered as she swallowed, and she let out the smallest sigh when he brushed his fingers along her jaw again.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, his voice hoarse now, not from emotion but from speaking so low, so steady, for so long. “I’m right here. Always.”

The room was quiet again, except for the music still playing softly in the background. She was still wrapped around him, blanket tucked tight, body slowly relaxing against his. Her breathing had settled. Still light, still delicate, but not panicked.

He held her for a long time after that. Let the moment stretch and settle around them. Let her come back on her own terms. Let her feel what she needed to feel without trying to fill the space too quickly.

Because he knew the road back from subspace could be confusing. It wasn’t always linear. Sometimes it meant silence. Sometimes it meant tears. Sometimes it meant curling up and letting someone else carry the weight of you for a while.

And he would carry her. For as long as she needed.

Harry kept his arms around her like they were the only thing tethering her to the world. Maybe they were. His hand hadn’t stopped moving, tracing slow, familiar circles over her back, his fingers slipping just under the hem of the blanket to stroke her skin in soft, grounding motions. She hadn’t spoken, but her body had started to respond—little things. The subtle way she held on to his shirt. The shift of her weight as she tried to settle. The way her breath caught every now and then like her system was rebooting, trying to remember how to be in her body again.

“You’re here with me, love,” he whispered, close to her ear. “You’re safe. It’s okay, we’ve got all the time you need.”

He could feel her heartbeat against him, still fluttery and a bit uneven, but it was steadier than before. Her skin was warm and damp, like her body was finally realizing it wasn’t in fight-or-flight anymore. Just floating in that confusing middle place. She still hadn’t lifted her head, and he wasn’t rushing her. She was curled into him like it was the only place she remembered how to be, and if that’s what she needed, then that’s what he’d give her.

Her fingers clenched slightly against his side. He looked down to see her face—barely lifted now, her lips parted like she was trying to form a word, but her brow was tight with confusion.

“Hey,” he said softly, shifting to brush his thumb across her cheek. “You with me?”

Her eyes opened, hazy and slow, and she blinked up at him. There was no recognition at first—just that same lost, foggy stare that made his chest pull tight. But then something flickered. Not clarity, not yet. Just awareness.

“I… I don’t…” Her voice was a whisper, hoarse and cracked like she’d been silent for days. She didn’t finish the sentence.

Harry leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to hers. “It’s alright. Don’t try to talk yet. You’re safe, yeah? Just stay right here.”

Her mouth opened again, and this time she let out a sound—somewhere between a breath and a sob. It wasn’t sharp, wasn’t loud. Just a release. Like the weight of being present again was heavier than she expected.

“I don’t know where I am,” she murmured. Her voice was trembling. “I can’t… think.”

Harry’s heart broke a little at the words. Not because she was in pain—though part of her was—but because he knew that feeling. Knew that kind of mental disorientation that came when you gave everything and came back to a world that suddenly felt too loud, too sharp, too fast.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, cupping her face in both hands. “You don’t have to think right now. I’ve got you. Just stay close, yeah? Feel me holding you.”

She nodded slowly, eyes fluttering shut again like the act of being awake was too much. He kissed her forehead, then the bridge of her nose. She was trembling now, almost imperceptibly, and he wrapped the blanket tighter around her again.

“It’s okay,” he kept saying, not because he thought she didn’t hear him the first time, but because she needed to hear it over and over until it stuck. “You’re here. With me. You’re safe.”

The blanket shifted with her breathing. She was trying to regulate herself, but he could tell it was a struggle. Her face was flushed, but not with embarrassment. It was the kind of flush that came after emotional overwhelm. Her mind was fighting to come back, and she didn’t know what to do with everything she was feeling.

“I feel…” she started, then trailed off. “I don’t know. Weird. Not right.”

“I know,” Harry said gently, brushing his fingers along the back of her neck. “It’s normal, baby. You went deep, deeper than before. Your body’s still catching up, but it’s all okay. You’re safe now.”

She nodded again, but it looked automatic, like she was trying to agree just to make sense of it all. Her body shifted against his, like she couldn’t quite find the right way to sit, to breathe, to exist in herself again. He could feel how unsteady she was—not physically, but emotionally. Vulnerable didn’t even begin to cover it.

“I feel stupid,” she whispered suddenly, her voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to go that far.”

Harry's hands stilled for just a second before resuming their motion. “Hey,” he said firmly, but still soft. “No. None of that. Don’t do that to yourself.”

She let out a shaky breath and buried her face in his chest.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he continued, lowering his voice again. “You gave me your trust. That’s never something to be ashamed of. Ever.”

She didn’t respond, but her fingers curled tighter into his shirt.

He could feel it—her panic edging in. Not loud. Not explosive. But quiet and inward, the kind that made you shrink in on yourself, question everything, doubt your own reactions. He’d seen it before. He hated seeing it now.

So he wrapped his arms around her tighter, held her like a shield.

“You were perfect,” he said into her hair. “I mean that. I was watching you every second. You were strong and soft and everything I love about you, all at once.”

A small, broken noise escaped her throat.

“You didn’t mess up,” he said again. “You just let go. That’s what you needed. That’s what we talked about, remember?”

She nodded against his chest.

“I’m proud of you,” he added quietly. “So proud. You were safe the whole time. Still are.”

He felt her shoulders rise and fall with another shaky breath, then again, slower this time. She was settling—but it was a delicate balance. He kept his hand moving over her back, slow and steady, a constant rhythm. Her breathing began to mimic it, syncing up, like her body was finally listening to the cues he was giving it.

“Can I touch your face?” he asked quietly.

She gave the faintest nod.

He brought one hand up to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek slowly. Her skin was damp—sweat, maybe tears, maybe both—but she didn’t shy away from the touch. Her eyes opened again, unfocused but no longer empty.

“There you are,” he murmured. “That’s better.”

She blinked, and this time her lips moved like she was about to say something but didn’t. He could see the words forming behind her eyes but getting stuck somewhere between her brain and her mouth.

“It’s okay,” he said again. “You don’t have to talk until you’re ready. I’ll just be here.”

And he meant it. For as long as it took. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Still, inside, he felt the pull. The deep ache of wanting to do more. To fix it. To speed up her return. But he knew better. Knew that pushing, even with good intentions, would only make her feel worse. So he stayed still. Present. Soft.

She pulled her head back slightly, just enough to look up at him.

“I felt… like I disappeared,” she whispered, finally managing a full thought.

He nodded slowly. “I know. I saw it. But I was with you the whole time.”

“I didn’t know where I was,” she said. “And now I feel like… like everything’s too much. Too loud.”

“That’s normal, love,” he said gently. “You were deep in it. But you’re back now. It’s just going to take a little time for everything to feel normal again.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and one slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. She looked like she was trying to apologize for it, but he caught her chin in his hand before she could turn away.

“None of that,” he whispered. “Tears are okay. All of this is okay.”

She nodded, and the smallest smile tugged at the corner of her lips—a sad smile, a grateful one. Then she leaned back into him, burying her face against his chest again.

His hand returned to her back, tracing those soft circles again, a rhythm they both knew by heart now.

“You’re safe,” he whispered once more. “You’re with me. And you did so well.”

He felt her breath hitch again, but this time, it wasn’t panic. It was release. The kind that came from being held exactly how you needed. The kind that meant she was still floating, but no longer alone.

Harry didn’t speak for a while after that. He just held her, feeling the rhythm of her breathing gradually settle against him. The tension that had been coiled through her muscles for what felt like hours slowly began to slip away. Every time she exhaled, it came with a little more ease. A little more surrender—not the kind from earlier, not the kind that put her into subspace—but the quieter, grounded kind. The kind you only gave when you knew you were safe.

Her head rested on his chest, the weight of it familiar and comforting, and he could tell she was listening—not just to his words, but to the sound of his heart beating under her ear. That steady thump, slow and reassuring. He wasn’t doing anything special. He wasn’t trying to guide her out anymore. Now, he was just there, present, letting his body do the talking. The strong arms around her, the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his breath. It said everything she needed to hear.

His hand stroked slowly up and down her back, fingers curling slightly as they passed over the fabric of the blanket. She murmured something soft—not quite a word—but it had weight to it, like it came from somewhere deep, like it was all she could manage. He dipped his head, pressing a kiss to her hair, just above her ear.

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

She didn’t move, but he felt her shift inwardly, felt her body lean more fully into his. It was the kind of surrender that came not from giving up, but from feeling safe enough to be small. To let someone else take the weight. She didn’t have to be anything right now. Not strong, not brave, not in control. Just held.

His fingers moved up to her shoulder, gently kneading the tightness he knew was probably starting to settle in. The tension that came after the drop, the kind that didn’t announce itself until you’d come back to your body. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even twitch. Just breathed through it, her cheek pressed into his chest. He let his touch be light, circular, soothing. He wasn’t trying to fix anything—just offering relief, piece by piece.

“You’re alright now,” he said softly. “You’re doing so well.”

She was still so quiet, and he didn’t mind it. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was full. Full of everything they couldn’t say yet but understood anyway. There was comfort in it, in just existing together like this. She didn’t need to talk. She didn’t need to explain. Her body was telling him everything he needed to know.

He shifted slightly, pulling her even closer, adjusting the blanket so it wrapped tighter around her legs. He could feel her skin starting to cool, and he didn’t want her catching a chill. When he reached behind him and grabbed the throw pillow off the couch, he carefully slid it under her arm so she could rest more comfortably without lifting her head.

She let out the smallest hum in response—a sound of appreciation, maybe—but didn’t lift her face. He ran his fingers along her spine again, slow and steady.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured into her hair. “You went so deep, and you did it with so much trust. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

He didn’t expect her to answer. He wasn’t even saying it for a response. He was saying it because it was true. Because she needed to hear it. Because sometimes, when you come out of a place that vulnerable, your first instinct is to doubt yourself. To question whether you did it right, whether you were too much, whether you made it harder for the other person. And Harry wanted to make sure she never even started down that path.

He pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing. You were perfect.”

Her arm moved slightly, adjusting the way she held onto him. She didn’t speak, but he felt her thumb brush against his side, a small, barely-there motion that felt like her way of saying thank you. Of saying I hear you. He held onto that moment, let it settle in his chest like warmth.

The music in the background had faded to near silence now, the playlist looping back to its softer, slower tracks. It gave the room a muted, timeless feel, like they were suspended in a space that didn’t require movement or sound. Just presence.

After a few more minutes, Harry leaned back enough to look at her face. Her eyes were still closed, but her expression had shifted. The crease in her brow was gone. Her lips were soft, relaxed. He brushed his thumb along her cheek again, watching for any reaction.

Her eyes fluttered open at the touch, hazy but clearer now. Still dazed, but not lost.

“Hi,” he whispered with a small smile.

She blinked slowly, her gaze meeting his with the smallest bit of awareness. Her lips moved, just slightly, and this time, it sounded like a word.

“Hi.”

He smiled wider, nodding. “There you are.”

She didn’t say anything else, and he didn’t push. He just kissed her forehead again, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth. Slow, careful, not overwhelming. She let out a breath that trembled but didn’t break.

He adjusted her again, helping her lie back slightly so her body could stretch out. Her limbs were stiff, uncooperative, but he moved with her, supporting every joint, every shift, like he was handling something precious. Which, to him, she was.

“There,” he murmured. “Better?”

She nodded faintly, eyes fluttering closed again. Her head rested against the pillow now, and he lay beside her, their legs tangled, one of his hands resting lightly on her stomach. His thumb rubbed slow circles just below her navel.

He stayed like that, just watching her breathe, adjusting the blanket every time it slipped an inch. At one point, he reached for another one, draping it over them both. The warmth cocooned them, and she shifted just enough to press her face against his neck again.

He felt her lips move against his skin. A whisper.

“Love you.”

It was the first full thing she’d said, and it hit him in the chest with a kind of quiet force that made his eyes sting.

He turned his head, brushing his lips against her hair.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “So much.”

She curled into him a little more after that, and he knew she was finally starting to feel safe in her own skin again. Not fully there yet—but close enough to let the world come back in without it hurting. Close enough to let herself feel his love and not question whether she deserved it.

He kept touching her, massaging her shoulders, her arms, the back of her neck. Every part of her he could reach without making her move. His hands were steady, warm, never leaving her for long. Sometimes she’d sigh. Sometimes she’d make a tiny noise of appreciation. But mostly, she just let herself be cared for.

And that was enough.

That was everything.

Time didn’t seem to move in the usual way. It passed in a hush, measured not by the clock on the wall but by the rhythm of breathing, the gentle drift of limbs finding comfort, the quiet rustle of blankets shifting as their bodies adjusted to being still. Harry stayed close, never letting more than a few inches come between them. His hand stayed over her stomach, thumb sweeping slow, grounding circles against the fabric of her shirt, while his other hand remained tangled gently in hers.

She didn’t speak. He didn’t either, not for a long time. There was nothing urgent left to say. Nothing that couldn’t be said through closeness, through the weight of presence. The room felt warm now in the way only deep stillness could bring—like even the walls knew not to interrupt.

Eventually, after a while—ten minutes maybe, or thirty, he didn’t know—he felt it. A shift. The almost imperceptible way her body came back into itself. A deeper breath. A longer exhale. The slight way her fingers moved under his, like she was remembering they were there.

Harry tilted his head, eyes flicking down to her face. She was still tucked into his chest, but her brows had relaxed, her jaw no longer clenched. Her breathing had changed, too—not quite normal, but no longer erratic. Controlled now. Calmer.

Then she stirred. Just a little. Her hand pulled from his to brush softly at the blanket on her lap, like she was grounding herself, checking to make sure she was really there.

Harry didn’t speak, not yet. He just watched as she moved her head, a slow, tentative lift off his chest, blinking a few times like the light was new again. Her lashes were damp, and her eyes shimmered when they finally met his.

They didn’t need to smile. They didn’t need to rush into anything light or playful. This wasn’t that kind of moment.

Y/N blinked again, and a tear slid down her cheek—silent, soft, not from sadness.

Harry reached up instantly, thumb catching it before it could fall too far. His eyes didn’t waver from hers.

“Hi,” she whispered, voice scratchy and faint, but real. There was a weight behind it now that hadn’t been there earlier.

He smiled, small and full of tenderness. “Hey.”

More tears came, but she didn’t turn away from him. Her body didn’t flinch like it had before. She didn’t try to hide.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, and Harry’s chest pulled tight—not in frustration, but in heartbreak that she even felt the need to say it.

“No,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize for trusting me.”

She swallowed hard, eyes blinking fast as more tears rolled down her face. She was fully here now—present, aware, raw. And it hit her all at once, the depth of what she’d experienced, the intensity of her vulnerability. She reached up, her hand trembling slightly, and cupped his face. Her thumb grazed his cheekbone, the smallest, gentlest touch, but it was enough to still him completely.

Harry closed his eyes for a second, letting out a quiet breath as he leaned into her palm. The weight of her hand, the intent behind it—it was everything.

They stayed like that for a moment, locked in silence, her hand on his face, his heart beating steady beneath the hand still curled in her lap. Nothing else existed. Not the room. Not the world outside. Just the connection stretching between them, so fragile and so unbreakable all at once.

Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw, then moved up to brush his hair back from his face. He let her, not because he needed to be soothed, but because she needed to give something now—something soft, something real, something hers. And he’d take it, all of it, every time.

“I felt like I disappeared,” she said, voice quieter than ever. “Like I wasn’t even in my body anymore.”

Harry nodded gently, his hand coming up to wrap around her wrist, anchoring her hand where it rested on his cheek.

“I know,” he murmured. “I saw it happening. I was right there with you.”

She took a shaky breath. “It was beautiful. And scary. At the same time.”

“I know,” he said again, rubbing his thumb over the inside of her wrist. “But you were never alone. Not for one second.”

“I know,” she whispered back.

They fell into another silence after that—not because there was nothing left to say, but because they were both holding so much, and the quiet felt like the only way to carry it. It wrapped around them like a blanket, warm and familiar, allowing her to keep leaning into him without needing to justify it, without needing to explain why she couldn’t stop crying yet.

He let her cry. Let her feel it all. Didn’t try to stop the tears or change the subject or make her laugh. He just held her. Kissed the crown of her head. Traced circles into her skin. And when the tears slowed, when her breathing evened out again, when her hand dropped from his cheek to rest against his chest, she looked at him once more.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

His smile returned, quiet and full of emotion. “Always.”

She nestled closer again, cheek against his shoulder now, arm draped over his stomach. Her body fit into his like she belonged there, like she’d been made to be held just like this. And maybe she had.

Harry stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, his fingers stroking up and down her spine. He was tired—emotionally, physically—but there wasn’t even a flicker of regret or hesitation in him. She was worth every ounce of it. The vulnerability she’d shown tonight, the rawness, the depth of surrender—it had taken everything out of her. And he would give everything in return.

He tilted his head and kissed her temple again, lingering.

“You did so well, love,” he whispered, his voice soft but certain. “I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing.”

She didn’t say anything right away. But he felt her press closer, felt her breath hitch in that same way it had earlier—only now, it wasn’t release or panic. It was peace.

And with those words, she knew.

She was back.

Safe.

Loved.

Grounded.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

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[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (7 - Fix the Dead)

Chapter Summary: A conversation with Wanda about the twins’ rapid growth leaves you both struggling with guilt and loss. Clint’s attempt to contact you through a vintage radio ends in disaster, as Wanda tightens her hold on her fragile reality. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.9k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: So, cat's out of the bag--Reader is actually alive. Three more chapters until we close part 1! // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Please, talk to me.”

You look over your shoulder. You've been pretending to sleep for almost an hour now, and just when you thought Wanda had drifted off and you could sneak out to spend some time alone with a book in the living room, she surprises you.

With a soft sigh, you turn to face her. The sight that greets you instantly breaks your heart. Even in the darkness, with only a sliver of blue moonlight seeping through the window to illuminate her face, you can see her lonely, anxious expression.

“What is there to talk about?” you whisper back.

Wanda reaches out to touch your hand, but you pull it back slightly. “I can feel your sadness,” she murmurs. “Is something wrong?”

You take a deep breath, burying half of your face in the pillow, your throat tightens and your eyes begin to sting at her simple inquiry into your well-being. You want to remain silent, but you know you can't—and shouldn't—hide your feelings from Wanda. Your efforts are superfluous anyway, she always has a way of seeing right through you.

You give a small nod, unable to voice out more.

Wanda sits up slightly, propping herself on one elbow. She knows it’s only a matter of time before the doubt and fear catches up to you. “Did I do something?” she asks softly.

You bite your lower lip, struggling to hold back the feelings swelling up inside you like a dam ready to burst. “It's the boys,” you finally say.

Her disarming green eyes search yours earnestly. “What about them?”

You sit up fully, pulling the blanket around your shoulders. “They're growing up too fast, Wanda. One moment they're babies—I’ve barely held them—and the next they're ten years old. I feel like we're missing out on so much.”

Wanda swallows hard. The twins’ childhood has lasted barely a week. Having lost her own childhood at a very young age, she knows the pain of missing out, and she desperately wants her children to experience a proper childhood. But here in Westview, Wanda has learned to look on the brighter side of things. At least you both have Tommy and Billy; you're a complete family. They're happy with who they are and what you have together as a family. At least you're here with her, raising them, no matter how short the time given to both of you.

She reaches for your hand again, and this time you let her hold it. “They're just exploring their abilities,” she says, repeating the assurances she's been telling herself. “You know how kids are…”

You don’t look entirely convinced by that, so Wanda sits up too, tightens her grip on your hand. “They're special. You know that their abilities make them different,” she points out.

“Different doesn't mean we have to skip their entire childhood,” you reply bitterly. “I didn't get to see their first steps, hear them say ‘Mama’ for the first time. Those moments are gone, and I can't get them back.”

Beside you, she tenses. You don’t need to look to know she understands—she wasn’t there for those moments with the boys either.

“Doesn't it bother you?” you ask. “Even a little?”

Wanda glances away for a second, quickly blinking back any sign of weakness before she looks at you again. “It does. But I've been so focused on keeping everything together that I didn't stop to think about what we might be losing.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, feeling bad for thinking Wanda didn’t care. She just seems so… tolerant of it all.

“I’m sorry,” you say, scooting closer and wrapping your arms around her. “I bet you wanted those milestones just as much as I do. Just…forget I said anything.”

Wanda leans into your embrace. “No, you’re right to bring it up. They’re missing out on so many things, too.”

“How can we fix this? Can we even fix it?” you ask.

Wanda understands it’s not about whether she can intervene—it’s about whether she should. She could easily use her powers to stop the boys from skipping ahead. But it’s the ethics of it that she’s wrestling with ever since she did it to you. 

“Maybe next time, I could… ensure things go differently?” she suggests carefully. 

The implication of her words doesn’t go over your head. “Wanda, we can’t do that,” you tell her softly. “I... I don’t think we should do anything without their consent, even if we think it’s for the best.”

Wanda pulls back in shame. “You’re right. I’ve been making too many decisions for everyone.”

You gently hold her cheek, making her look at you. “It's okay, Wanda.”

She fights the urge to disagree, to shake her head and confess that it's not okay. She's made these choices for you too many times, and it’s clearer now than ever how much she’s overstepped, compromising your privacy and trust.

“Maybe we can talk to them?” you suggest, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You think they’ll listen?”

You offer her a sleepy, crooked smile. “I hope so,” you say. “But even if they don't, we'll be there for them, whatever they choose.”

You gently coax her to lie back down, and Wanda instinctively pulls your head to her chest, letting you rest your head against her. This time, you drift off quickly, soothed by the steady beat of her heart into a deep and dreamless sleep.

–

“Why keep it a secret?” Monica demands though not unkindly. She can’t wrap her head around why you’d choose to disappear and fake your own death, especially now that Wanda is back from the Snap. While it's undoubtedly a relief to learn that someone isn't dead, Monica can't help but feel disappointed by this turn of events.

All this time, they believed they could persuade Wanda to abandon her fantasy in Westview. But now, with everything she desires apparently right here, why would she ever choose to leave?

And more importantly, how would she ever allow any of them to leave?

“Also, how do we know you’re not lying again?” Darcy adds quickly.

Clint raises a hand to calm the room, nodding toward the television where you just appeared, very much alive. “Clearly, there's evidence that she's there,” he says calmly, pointing out the obvious. “Living and breathing just like the rest of us.”

Everyone quiets down, accepting his point. It checks off one of the many questions they've had since this whole thing started.

“She wanted it this way,” Clint then tells Monica, in response to her question earlier. “Believe me, it hit the kid hard, watching Wanda turn to ashes right before her eyes... I lost my family that day too. But at least I was spared from seeing it happen.”

Monica can only imagine what it was like. She was snapped away, but she counts herself lucky she wasn’t one of those left behind to endure the absence.

“Does Y/N know that Wanda returned from the Snap?” Darcy asks.

“Yeah,” Clint says. Everyone looks at him, expecting more, but it’s clear he meant to keep his answer short and sweet.

Jimmy taps his pen against his notepad. “So how did Wanda find her?”

“That's the million-dollar question,” Clint says, glancing back at the screen now showing only static. “Last I heard from Y/N was about five months ago. She settled in Reykjavik. Wanted to live a quiet life.”

Monica crosses her arms, the gears in her head haven't stopped turning since finding out you’re really alive. “And now she's in Westview, starring in Wanda's show?”

“Doesn't add up,” Clint agrees. “Y/N was determined to stay hidden.”

“Maybe Wanda found out Y/N was alive and pulled her into this reality she made,” Darcy says.

“Or perhaps Y/N reached out to Wanda,” Jimmy suggests.

“She wouldn’t,” Clint counters gruffly, dismissing the idea outright. After a second, he adds, “And if Y/N didn't want to be found, she wouldn’t be. She was always skilled at vanishing.”

Monica thinks it over. “But Wanda's powers have grown exponentially. Maybe she picked up on Y/N’s presence somehow.”

“Still doesn't explain why Y/N would play along,” Clint counters. “I know her. She wouldn’t agree to this.”

Darcy shrugs. “Unless she’s being controlled by Wanda.”

Clint clenches his jaw. “Y/N's strong-minded. It'd take a lot to manipulate her. Besides, Wanda wouldn’t do that to her.”

“Clearly,” Darcy scoffs. Clint’s lips press into a thin line, struggling to hold back a retort to that.

Jimmy flips through his notes. “From what we've observed, she seems... compliant. But there are moments where she looks almost aware.”

“You noticed that from the show?” Clint asks.

“Not from the show,” Monica clarifies, standing up. “From me.”

Clint gives her a puzzled look.

“Oh, I forgot to mention—I’ve been inside the Hex.”

“You were there? How did you manage to get out?” Clint asks, both horrified and a little impressed.

Monica sighs. “I mentioned something that referenced the real world. Wanda didn't like it. She literally threw me out of town.”

Clint runs a hand through his hair, processing this new information. “So, she really is controlling everything in there, and anyone who challenges that gets expelled?”

“Exactly,” Monica nods. “And now that we’ve found out that the real Y/N is in there with her, it looks like Wanda’s got everything she wants. That throws a wrench in our plans.”

Clint rubs his chin thoughtfully. “And your plan was to...?”

“To...” Monica trails off, suddenly realizing how naive it sounds. “...talk her out of it.”

Clint furrows his brow and lets out a noncommittal “Hmmm.”

“I know how it sounds,” Monica says, a hint of color rising in her cheeks. “But I thought if I could just reach her, reason with her, maybe I could get through. I've lost people too—”

“We all have,” Clint replies. “Though maybe not to the extent she has.”

“Parents, brother, best friend, lover...” Darcy ticks off Wanda’s losses on her fingers. “That's pretty much every key relationship in a person's life.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Jimmy asks, turning to Clint, who looks like he’s been hit with a freight train over the last five minutes. Overwhelmed would be an understatement—he probably needs an Advil after this conversation.

Clint exhales sharply, mulling it over while the others watch him, waiting.

“I'm usually a man of action,” he says slowly, “but sometimes it's better to try talking before jumping into a fight. Only, I don't think it's Wanda we should be trying to reach out to.”

“Then who?” Monica asks.

Clint licks his lips. “Y/N.”

–

“Where’s Sparky?”

It's odd to see the boys without their four-legged companion ever since they adopted him. He's been their whole world lately, and even Wanda spends her breaks between chores playing with the puppy. 

Billy and Tommy exchange uneasy glances. “He... ran out the front door,” Billy says, his voice papery-thin.

“What do you mean he ran out?”

“We tried to catch him, but he was too fast,” Tommy reasons.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Guys, you can't just let your pet run off like that. What if he'd been hit by a car? I'm… I’m really disappointed.”

“We’re sorry,” they mumble, eyes fixed on the floor.

“This is why I asked you boys to wait,” you say gently. “Maturity doesn’t just come from aging yourselves up—it takes time and experience. Do you understand why that matters now?”

They nod, a little slower this time. “We understand,” Billy says quietly.

“Alright,” you sigh, unable to stay upset for long. “Let’s go find Sparky. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

The three of you set out into the neighborhood, calling Sparky's name. It's around four in the afternoon, with about two hours of daylight left—plenty of time to search. After half an hour of knocking on doors and showing neighbors pictures of the scruffy Jack Russell, you begin to worry that finding him might require a more extensive search. The boys look really upset, and you feel guilty about reprimanding them earlier, even though you knew you had to be honest about their oversight. Just as you're about to suggest checking the park behind the townsquare, Agnes appears behind the bushes on her lawn, cradling something in her arms.

“Agnes?” you call out, a sick swirl of hope and dread twisting in your stomach.

“I…” Agnes approaches slowly, her face somber. Even before she gets close, you can already tell that whatever she’s carrying is limp and motionless. “I didn’t wanna come until I’d wrapped him up…”

Wanda pulls up just then, fresh from the grocery store. She’s barely out of the car when she notices you and the boys, your somber expressions stopping her in her tracks. She hurries over and follows your gaze. “What's that?” Wanda asks.

“Found him in my azalea bushes,” Agnes says, sidestepping the question. You glance at the twins, your heart sinking at the sight of their scared, regretful faces.

“I don’t know how many leaves he ate,” Agnes continues, her voice dropping even lower. “I didn’t find him until it was too late. Tommy, Billy, I’m so sorry.”

The brothers break forward. “No! Sparky!” they cry, tears streaming down their faces.

Your eyes sting as you pull them close. “I’m so sorry, guys,” you whisper, holding them tightly. They cling to you, their tear-soaked faces pressed against your shirt, and for a moment, the world feels still. But a moment later, they pull back, exchanging a glance—a silent conversation you’ve come to recognize all too well.

“Wait,” you say in panic, quickly stepping between them, as if the act alone could stop whatever plan is forming in their heads. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Boys, stop,” Wanda says, kneeling down to their level. “The urge to run from this feeling is powerful. But growing up isn't the way to avoid getting hurt. It…it teaches you to face it, feel it…learn from it. Trust me, I know.”

Billy wipes his eyes. “But it's too sad,” he whispers.

“I—”

Tommy, unlike his brother, has fire in his eyes. “You can fix anything, Mom. Fix the dead,” he pleads.

“You can do that?” comes Agnes’ voice behind her. 

You turn to your wife, who seems struck silent by Tommy's request. You know Wanda is powerful, her abilities growing stronger by the day, but reversing the natural order of things—that feels impossible and wrong.

“Some things can't—and shouldn't—be fixed,” you say, looking from one twin to the other. “Some things are final.”

“It's not fair,” Billy mumbles, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

You swallow hard. “I know. But maybe we can give Sparky a proper goodbye.” Agnes takes that as her cue to hand Sparky back to the boys. Wanda stands a few steps away, her face unreadable. The twins clutch the dog tightly, tears streaming down their cheeks.

You reach out toward your wife. “Honey—”

But Wanda steps further back, her eyes avoiding yours. “I... I need to start dinner,” she mutters, turning away before you can say more.

“Wait, can we—” you start, but Wanda’s already turning away, disappearing into the house.

–

The boys try to skip dinner, claiming they're not hungry, so you play your ace and order pizza, knowing they can't say no to that. Wanda just gives you a wary look and announces she's heading to bed early. You make a point of eating a good portion of Wanda’s dinner—not just to avoid waste but because you genuinely enjoy her cooking—before you tuck the boys in for the night.

After making sure they're settled, you decide to check on Wanda. You find her in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window.

“Wanda?” you say softly.

She doesn't turn. “Are the boys okay?” she asks quietly.

“They're handling it,” you reply, approaching the bed. “They needed you.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping. “I couldn't... I didn't know what to say.”

“You don’t have to fix everything,” you say softly, sitting beside her. Your hand rests on her shin, fingers starting to massage in slow, soothing circles. “Sometimes just being there is enough.”

When she finally looks at you, your breath catches. Her eyes are swollen, red from crying. You reach for her hand, but she keeps it clenched in her lap. “I feel like I’m letting them down. Letting you down,” Wanda says quietly.

“Are you kidding? You’re an amazing mom to our boys. And the best wife I could ever ask for.”

She scrunches her nose, clearly struggling to accept your words. You smile, finding it endearing how shy she still gets whenever you compliment her.

“Thank you,” she whispers, lacing your fingers together before kissing the back of your hand.

“Have you eaten anything?” you ask.

Wanda shakes her head. “Not really.”

“Well, let's fix that,” you say, standing up, pulling her with you. “Come downstairs with me.”

“But you've already had dinner,” Wanda says.

You smile. “There's always room for dessert.”

–

Darcy practically jumps out of her seat, pointing excitedly at the screen. “That's our shot!”

Monica, Jimmy, and Clint look up from the reports scattered across the table, their brows furrowed in confusion. Hayward’s team is still stuck, unable to figure out how to get equipment through the barrier without it being warped into something unrecognizable. The working theory is that anything era-appropriate to Wanda’s “show” might make it through intact.

“A shot at what?” Jimmy asks.

“Reaching Y/N through Wanda's kitchen radio!” Darcy exclaims, already grabbing her coat. The others scramble to follow her outside to where her equipment is set up, ready to put their old theory to the test. 

Darcy starts adjusting the dials on a makeshift transmitter hooked up to a vintage-looking radio. “If we can sync up with the frequency of the broadcast, we might be able to get a message through,” she reminds them, her breath forming clouds in the cold.

Clint eyes the gadgets cluttering the back of the truck. “Is this really going to work?”

Darcy smirks. “Well, considering traditional methods aren't exactly panning out, it's worth a try.”

“Someone should keep an eye on things from the inside,” Monica surmises.

“I'll head back and keep watch,” Jimmy volunteers, already walking back to the tent. “I’ll radio in if it works.”

Monica turns to Clint with a thoughtful expression. “Who do you think should try talking to Y/N?”

“I'll give it a try,” he says. “Maybe hearing a familiar voice will help snap her out of it.”

Monica nods. “Good idea. She trusts you.”

Darcy comes up to them with the transmitter. “Alright, it's ready to go. Just press this button when you're ready to speak,” she instructs, handing the device to Clint.

Monica grabs her radio and contacts Jimmy. “Agent Woo, what's the situation inside?”

“Wanda is sitting at the dining table. Y/N is alone in the kitchen, looks like she's preparing dinner.”

“Thanks,” Monica smiles slightly. “Perfect timing. She's alone—we can reach her now.”

Clint nods, stepping closer to the microphone. “Here goes nothing,” he mutters. He presses the button and speaks into the microphone. “Y/N, it's Clint. Can you hear me?”

–

You’re pouring two glasses of wine, waiting for dinner to finish heating, when the old radio by the sink crackles to life.

“Y/N, it's Clint. Can you hear me?”

You freeze, hand hovering over the glass. The voice is faint, broken, but you heard your name. 

And his.

Clint? Why does that sound so familiar?

You glance at the radio, its dial unmoved. Adjusting the antenna slightly, you try to wait for another message to come through, but only static follows. You resume what you’re doing, only for the radio to speak again—directly to you, it seems.

“Jesus, Y/N, wake up! Come on!”

Your hand trembles violently, forcing you to set the wine bottle down before it slips from your grasp.

Heart pounding, you stare at the radio. “Hello?” you whisper, not really sure you believe what's happening. It feels like a dream. Other than your wife, who could even make a radio do this? 

And why would they need to talk to you?

“Finally! We've been trying to reach you. Listen, you have to—”

Before he can finish, a sharp burst of static erupts. The radio sparks violently and explodes right in front of you. You barely have time to shield yourself as fragments fly past, one slicing across your cheek. Wincing, you touch your face and your fingers come away smeared with blood.

“What was that?” Wanda's voice calls from the other room. You can hear her hurried footsteps approaching, but you can’t seem to move or say anything, too shocked to respond.

She appears in the doorway, eyes widening as she sees the blood on your cheek and the smoking wreckage of the radio. 

“You're hurt!”

In a flash, she’s on you, her hands checking your face, her thumb brushing near the cut. She tries to wipe away the blood, but it keeps coming, stubborn and unrelenting.

“I-It's nothing…”

“We need to clean this up,” she says, too calm, like it’s normal to find you bleeding after a radio exploded.

“I'm fine, really,” you insist weakly, but she’s already fetching a cloth and pressing it against your wound.

As she tends to you, her eyes dart quickly to the destroyed radio. “These old things can be so dangerous,” she murmurs.

“Yeah…” 

Someone named Clint had tried to reach you. Who is he? And why did the radio explode? There are too many questions swimming in your head, overwhelming enough to numb the sting of your wound.

“You're shaking,” Wanda notes softly. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“Maybe,” you concede, allowing her to guide you to a chair.

She kneels in front of you, dabbing gently at your cheek. “It's not deep. You'll be okay.”

“Thanks,” you mumble absently. 

Wanda purses her lips. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You’re quiet for a second, unsure if you should tell Wanda what just happened or ask her about Clint. But something inside holds you back.

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for her hand as she tends to your wound, and lightly kissing her palm. “Promise.”

–

Jimmy stares at the screen, where the words “We'll be right back!” are now plastered, replacing the live feed. The broadcast had cut out the moment you answered Clint's call with a hesitant hello. He runs outside, where Clint, Monica, and Darcy are huddled around the equipment. The cool air bites at his cheeks, but he barely notices.

“The broadcast’s down,” Jimmy says, slightly winded. “The second Y/N responded to the radio, it switched to a standby screen.”

Clint's hand falls away from the microphone. He knew it was a long shot with Wanda just a room away. “Now she knows we're trying to make contact,” he remarks grimly. “I’m sure Wanda will find a way to block any future transmissions from here out.”

Darcy doesn’t look up, her fingers flying over her tablet. She curses under her breath, scowling at the screen. “Yeah, looks like she’s already on it,” she mutters.

Monica rubs her hands together, exhaling into them for warmth. “Alright, clearly this isn’t working. We need a new plan.”

“Uh, guys…?” Darcy cuts in, looking around. “Is it just me, or does it seem way emptier out here tonight?”

Everyone stops, taking in their surroundings. Sure enough, the area is quieter than usual—just a couple of guards lingering near the barrier and not much else.

Jimmy crosses his arms, his eyes fixed on the tent serving as a Command Center. “Either everyone’s on break at the same time, or Hayward’s pulled them all into a meeting.”

They exchange uneasy glances, the same thought running through their heads. What’s this meeting about—and why does it feel like they’ve been deliberately left out?

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Don’t it seem like a good time for swimming

(Sam Winchester x female reader)

Summary Sam at the beach is a sight to behold. It just seems like a good time for swimming (and other things). CWs Indulgent descriptions of Sam's body. Some slightly naughty water fun. Some more naughty hotel room fun (nothing crazy explicit). 18+. 1k words AN This is my (first of many) entry to the gorgeous, wonderful and brilliant @ambiguous-avery's Summer Snapshot Challenge! I wrote this while at the beach, although without any moose action. Hope you enjoy! And thank you, Avery, for starting this beautiful challenge!❤️ Fic title is from Adrianne Lenker's "Donut Seam".

Sam Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

Your bottom lip is about to have two tooth-sized holes if you keep going like this. But you're pretty sure if you stop biting it, you're gonna hump the deck chair under you.

Sam is leaned forward on his own just ahead and to your right. A leg on each side, muscular calves leading to sexy feet - since when are feet sexy? You don't know, but Sam seems to have the answer - buried in the sand. Up over thighs you want, need, to explore the inside of. Dark green swimming trunks pulled tight over his ass from how he's sitting. Then his lower back, soft-skinned and curved, broadening towards his shoulders. Dark hair tickling the back of his neck. Gorgeous face in deep concentration as the back of his index finger runs over his bottom lip, the other one holding down the flapping pages of his book.

It's simply too much.

You more or less jump off your chair, snatch the orange tube of sunscreen. You half hop the few feet over to him, the sand burning your toes. Sam barely has time to perk up his head before you're straddling the chair behind him, pressed in close.

“Enough with the nose in the books number,” you say, bringing your mouth as close to his ear as you can from this position, already shaking the tube, the thick liquid sloshing around in it. “It's very mysterious and sexy, but it's time to have some water-based fun.” 

Sam huffs, turns his head to put his bookmark between the pages, then drops the book and leans back. His warm skin meets your front and you snuggle against him.

“You're right,” he says. He raises his hands like he's showing you he's unarmed. “Sorry.”

You shake the tube one more time, then open it, squeeze a generous helping into your hands. Close it, drop it, mush your hands together and then put them over Sam's shoulder blades.

Run them down. Streaks of white on tan skin. You know how bitter it tastes from the bit you got on your lips when covering your face, but it looks like some kind of melting treat. Two long stripes, becoming more faint, down to where skin meets trunks. Sam lets out a slow breath.

“You're forgiven,” you say, letting your voice dip low. “So long as you go in the ocean with me.”

You do the appropriate amount of squealing when the waves travel over your ankles, then again when they hit your stomach. Hands waving, hopping. Sam grins at the display, the water not as high on him due to his stature, but he leans down, collects some with his hands, rubbing it over himself to get his body used to the temperature. Real adult shit.

Still, when he's up to his hips, you cling on to him. Your skin is slick against each other from the sunscreen and sweat, and Sam's all warm and delicious-smelling. He pulls you close and, feeling the effects of the sun and freedom fill up your soul, you do a little jump, wrap your legs around him, the light weight the water is giving you making you look mostly elegant.

Sam turns with you in his arms and you laugh, drop your head back before leaning forward, clinging on to him for dear life. You think he's gonna threaten to throw you, but he doesn't. One of his hands is gripping your thigh, one your ass. You kiss the side of his face, and he turns his head, looks at you before kissing you properly.

It turns, the way those things just sometimes do. You grind yourself against him, feel his response against the inside of your thigh. Nip at his earlobe when you hug him again, cause that's the kind of little shit you are.

Sam's expression has changed the next time you see his face. Lids lower, something almost fox-like around his eyes. One quick look at your lips, one squeeze of his hand. Something unmistakable between you.

Your back hits the hotel bed mattress and you giggle as Sam crawls over you, but he quickly shuts you up with his mouth. Getting your wet bikini and his trunks off is a lot of work, but it's well worth it.

You told everyone you'd forgotten your sunglasses in the room. Didn't explain why both of you are needed to retrieve them. The look Dean and Jody threw each other let you know they weren't buying it.

But you couldn't care less. As you wrap your arms around Sam's shoulders, press your mouth against his neck, whimper at his movements, your head is blissfully emptied. The sunscreen is still bitter where it left a sheen, but there's also saltiness and sweetness. A whole buffet of perfect tastes. 

The door to the balcony is open, and over both of your panting and gasping and sweet whispers of love and lust, you can still hear the ocean. Its slow waves, so similar to the way Sam moves within you. Assured, strong and yet endlessly gentle. A soft breeze comes in, tickling all the parts of you not covered by Sam.

You turn your head, catch his lips again. Sam slows, too absorbed with kissing you and only when you tightening your legs around him, the same way you did in the waves, it reminds him of what's happening. Before he starts moving again, he pulls his head back, looks into your eyes. Watches you, like he can never get enough. Like you're some kind of magical creature having appeared before him.

When he rolls off you, chest heaving and you sling your arm over him, he kisses your forehead. You press your cheek against his warm chest.

“Told you a vacation was a good idea,” you say between deep breaths. Sam chuckles, runs his palm over your forehead to smooth back your hair.

“Alright, you win,” he says and you can only close your eyes and smile broadly.

[mrmeowski]

🔞˚✦𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟒: 𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦 | 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐧✦˚🔞

Synopsis: As your birthday drew near, Satan had been planning a surprise for you, a serene picnic date where you could spend some quality time together. As time went by, it seemed he had other ideas in mind on how to spend the remaining daylight.

CW: Public sex, nipple sucking & pinching, cowgirl, mating press, creampie

Pairing/s: Satan x F.Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Day 3: Shower Sex | Leviathan»

You sat together on the blanket, surrounded by the serene atmosphere of the park, Satan couldn't help but gaze at you with adoration. Your birthday was nearing, and he wanted to make this picnic date one to remember, despite knowing that his brothers would soon rear their ugly heads.

"Did you enjoy it, my kitten?" He asked as he gently fixed a stray hair that had escaped your ponytail, tucking it behind your ear.

You giggled, "Yes! I loved it all!" Your eyes sparkled with delight as you raised both hands up to the sky, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air. "I do miss being here. I mean, it's beautiful in Devildom, but it still feels different back here." His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, gaze never leaving yours.

He leaned in closer, "I'm glad you're enjoying it, my kitten. But I have to say, I'm enjoying the view even more." Running his thumb over your cheek he grinned mischievously.

You looked back at him, your eyes meeting his, and chuckled sheepishly when you noticed he was gazing at you as he said so. You glanced away, missing the dark glint that flashed between his adoring green eyes.

The air seemed to thicken with tension as his gaze lingered on you, his eyes roving over your face, your chest, and your entire body. 

"Well..." His words were dripping with honey, "Will I not get anything for a thanks?"

 "A thanks?" You echoed the question. "What do you have in mind, hm?" You leaned in closer, your faces inches from each other.

His eyes seemed to gleam with excitement as he raised his other hand, and cupped your left cheek, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw.

"Hmm... I have so many ideas... so many wants," he purred. While his free hand grabbed one of yours, guiding it closer to his bulge. You could feel the heat of his erection pressing against your palm. "But I suppose we can start with this..." He let out a soft sigh.

Your breath hitched, your face reddening in a blink of an eye. "W-Wait—we're in public Satan! You shouldn't... you can't just do this here!" You tried to pull your hand back, but his grip was like a vice, holding you in place.

Soft kisses on your cheeks, slowly guiding down onto your neck, sent a wave of pleasure through your body. 

"Shhh..." His warm breath brushed against your skin. "If you be quiet no one will hear us. Unless... you want everyone to know how much I love you~" He giggled, lovingly sucking the sensitive part of your neck.

You bit your lips, trying to stop any noises that might attract unwanted attention. All his words were laced with a hint of mischief, and you knew that he was determined to make you scream with pleasure.

"A shame... but it doesn't matter." Emerald orbs gleamed with intensity. He pushed you onto the ground, both his arms on either side of you, trapping you. "I'll still show you how much you mean to me." His gaze seemed to bore into your soul, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Without warning, he captured your lips in a heated and passionate kiss, his tongue invading your mouth and exploring every part of it. His hands moved on their own, eagerly freeing his hardened cock, already glistening with precum.

You felt a jolt of electricity as he hastily removed your skirt and pretty much ripped your panties off, the sound of the fabric tearing sending a shiver down your spine.

Then he pushed aside your hips, making space for him. But he was being the tease he always was, brushing the tip of his cock against your entrance, causing you to whine in frustration. You were so ready to be filled by him, to feel him inside you, but he seemed to be taking his sweet time.

"Sataaan..." You whispered, ready for it to be done as quickly as possible given the situation.

"So needy... makes me want to toy with you more," he purred, reaching up and unbuttoning your blouse, pushing your bra downwards before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth.

The other toyed with by his hands, his fingers pinching your nipples and sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

"A-Ah..!" You cried out, covering your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound. You didn't dare look at him, but you knew he was grinning.

At once, he swiftly pushed his entire length into you causing you to gasp out. You kicked your legs in the air as you cried out, "Aaah!" Voice muffled by your own hand, but still loud enough to be heard. "Mmhm.. mm..." Feeling each of his veins as he pulsed inside you.

You could hear the soft purr erupting from his throat, a sound that sent shivers down your spine.

His pace was slow, but deep, each thrust designed to maximize your pleasure. He seemed to be savoring the sensation of being inside you, his eyes closed in ecstasy as he moved.

"My kitten... you feel so good," he whispered, his voice husky. "So tight, so warm... I could stay inside you forever."

His hand then traced towards your back, his face now locked onto your neck, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. He suddenly pulled you onto his lap, his other hand gripping your hips, bouncing you on his dick. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, holding on tight as he began to move you up and down.

You had the perfect view of the park, but fortunately, there were very few people around your area. However, you were still unable to look around to see if someone was walking by, and instead, you buried your head into his hair.

"F-Fuck..." you cursed onto his golden locks, the sensation of his dick sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The demon's laughter was low, "You like that, my kitten?" He whispered against your skin, "You like being fucked in public, where anyone can see us?" You could barely lift your head or open your mouth to make a cohesive sentence, all that came out were moans and whines.

This only seemed to make his grin wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Your beautiful sounds, slightly muffled by his hair, had become louder than before, and he seemed to be feeding off of them.

Whenever he wondered if someone was watching, it gave him even more energy to push on and pound your insides until you were all but begging for mercy.

"Ah, my kitten, you're so loud," he teased.

As he spoke, he began to pound into you even harder, his thrusts becoming more rapid and intense. You felt like you were being torn apart.

Just as you thought you were about to come, his body tensed up, and he let out a loud groan. You felt his hot cum painting your pink gummy walls.

As you lay there, limping and exhausted, you heard the sounds of people talking in the distance and your heart dropped off your chest but at the same time... you were a bit excited. His eyes lit up with excitement, and he grinned at you mischievously.

"Shall we give them another show?"

Request» Masterlist»

*•.𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃.•*

Day 5: Praise Kink | Asmodeus»

[chaoscreaturewrites]

Call of duty, Ghost, fluff, domestic sweetness master post link

Tea time

Summary:He's infatuated with his new neighbor he passes every day on his dog walks, and today, she waved him over for tea time. She regularly starts inviting him over to feed him.

Part 2

WC:2.3k

Next time she serves lemon poppyseed scones with lavender London fog lattes, and some peanut butter blueberry biscuits for Riley. The pair of them eat it all up and thank her, generously. Well Simon's a bit jealous wishing he could thank her like Riley did, jumping in her lap and giving her kiss and getting her scratches in return. Instead he offered to help with any house repairs she needed, and he was in luck she could use a hand with her backyard project of installing a duck pond. 

She went on and on about it and he blissfully enjoyed every second. She told him how her backyard was just missing something, she ran through a few ideas and settled on ducks, how it would be so nice to see them waddle and wag their lil butt's. And how if you're having ducks they obviously need a pond and she didn't want to just put out a kiddie pool, no she wanted a nice filtering water feature that matches her yard's aesthetic. She'd already started the digging but stopped when she realized this will require some more technical work then she's equipped for. 

He assures her that he can handle the project and if he doesn't know a part he has friends who do and they work for food. That last quip makes her laugh and he's never heard a more captivating sound and wonders how he can make that happen again. Humor isn't his strong suit and the humor he has is usually a touch too dark for even the guys he serves with so it's definitely not suited for a sweet thing like her. He'll have to learn some jokes or hope the moments come naturally again.

So plans are made for him to come over and work and she invites Riley along too, the back yard is fenced in so he can run around and explore freely. 

It's the day, he's had to circled on his calendar posted on his fridge, it's time to go over and start working on her duck pond. He changes into his ‘doing repairs clothes’, gets Riley in his harness, and heads over to her place. He would have taken his tools but today's not about installing, it's mainly just digging and planning. 

He rings her doorbell and instead of the standard ringing bell sound, a magic sound plays [ the sound ]. Then the magic lady who lives inside opens the door, greets him then takes a knee and greets Riley. 

He's never even seen the inside of her house before but it totally matches her vibe. Walls are a very light tint of green, with a complementary wooden trim and crown molding. Everything is cute and fits the aesthetic of  ‘I was a forest spirit but now I'm a human’ vibe. She leads him out to the back yard and he knows he was right; she must have spent weeks back here re-doing it. 

He sees the little flag posts outlining the spot, the whole she'd already started digging, and the wheelbarrow with dirt. He has to take a second look but sure enough even the wheelbarrow has been customized with mint green handles that march her shovels grip.  

He was very diligent with Riley's training but seems his dog could only hold out so long, as he's now pulling on the leash, whining and begging to be released into the yard. So many things to sniff and explore. He sets Riley free and he's off, so excited he's just wiggling and jumping around all sporadically [ you know when dogs go full crackhead mode]. 

They stand together, just watching.Simon would normally be a bit embarrassed by Riley's behavior but she seems thoroughly amused and he's in love with the giggles escaping her, and a few chuckles escape him too.

“ okay shall we”

“Lets”

So they get to it, each grabbing shovels and getting to work digging.

No one, I repeat no one would ever consider digging a big ass hole a fun romantic activity but neither of them could deny how much fun they were having. How every time they are in each other's company something unspoken has been building, and now it's happening again while they dig. 

It's been a while so she calls for a break and slips inside to grab some refreshments and snacks. No table this time; she just plops down in the glass and starts to set up their little spread.He noticed how this time the plates and cup were paper, smart move since they are covered in dirt, she thinks of everything. He comes over and sits next to her, he wants to help again but knows better than to get in her way. 

Today's meal is goat cheese and roast beef sandwiches with honey mint iced tea. Even sitting in the grass covered in dirt, eating on paper plates she manages to blow him away. He's about to reach for his sandwich when she stops him and tells him to hold out his hands, he instantly complies while curious what's going to happen next. She grabs his hands and pulls, moving his hands further in front of them away from the food, then takes out a bottle and pours water over his hands. He understands and washes away the dirt, he would have been happy to eat with dirty hands, he's done it before and eaten his fair, well unfair share of sand with no complaints.

There are many things he admires about her, but today he learned another. She's down to earth, she doesn't always need a fancy table spread. She'll do her thing anywhere, a fancy table or in the grass. And she's so attentive, he can tell the care that goes into each dish she makes and every action, even washing his hands with a water bottle in the grass, she pays attention to it all and gives everything she does her full attention and care. 

She even made snacks made for Riley who impressed her with his restraints at not trying to eat their food. After lunch and some time to digest they get back to digging. 

Simon has sweat through his shirt and without thinking he takes it off, tossing it aside and continuing his work. He didn't consider the effect sweaty tanktop wearing muscles flexing would have on her, until he turns and sees she's staring at him. Her hands on top of her shovel, head resting on top, just looking at him,clearly entranced in the show he didn't know he was giving. 

Now face to face with him she embarrassedly snaps out of her trance and stumbles over her words and she tries to make some excuse but cant come up with a livid one. 

He likes seeing the effect he has on her, it gives him hope that what he feels isn't one sided and that he turns her into an heartstruck idiot too. He doesn't want to highlight this and make her more embarrassed so he simply gives her a smirk and turns back to his work, let her stare, that's fine by him. 

It's been a good day's work, Simon climbs out and takes a step back to admire their work, giving a nod of approval. Then she tries to get out, but slides back down and grumbles. He won't make her ask, he has a feeling asking for help goes against her ‘I can do it's independent attitude. He slides back down into the hole and determines the best way to do this, he could give her a boost or just pick her up and lift her out.  

It may not have been the safest move to be so forward but he had a feeling this would be okay. So he steps behind her, gets a firm hold on her waits and lefts her straight up setting her on the level ground, then climbs out after her. 

“ wow I knew you were strong but that was…”

“ that was nothing… darling”

Oh man is he taking risks today, but you gotta risk to gain so he's taking the shots. Because soon Soap and Price will have to come over to help and he can't have them charming her before he cements himself as lead contender for her affections. 

Luckily it seems like all his shots have landed today, because now her bright smile is accompanied by blushing and it's not just the redness from digging.

A tension is filling the air between them, like a fragile flower is budding, the petals just starting to bloom and be exposed to the sunlight. Then Riley comes shooting past them, launching himself straight into the hole and vigorously rubbing himself in dirt.  

“ He's gonna need a bath, does he like water”

“ thankfully yes”

“ you wrangle him, ill get the hose”

“ on it”

It takes some doing but he manages to climb out of the hole hands free, occupied holding Riley who's wriggling around. He gets him back in his harness and leads him over to where she is with the hose. 

“ So how do we approach this?” 

“ just start spraying”

“ Okey dokey”

She turns on the hose and tries her best to aim at Riley but he's jumping despite the leash, unfortunately the water has only made him more excited.  She's trying her best to not splash Simon in the process but a slip up happens and the stream of water hits his chest. She instantly cuts off the water and starts apologizing but he just laughs, she's so concerned about hitting him with the hose, oh if only she knew what he did for work, water splashes are the least of his concerns.

She seems to relax a bit seeing that she didn't upset him and he also looks really good with a wet tank top.

 He grabs Riley, kneels down and looks up at her. It's not often he has to look up at people, it's very rare but he doesn't mind taking this position for her and hopes he'll get to do it again hopefully in a different context.

“ I could use a bath too, spray us”

She only giggles in response, but she turns the hose back on and hoses them down, it's much easier since they're staying put. Riley is clean now but Simon's face is still messy so she makes the water stream gentle and goes by his side. Carefully rinsing off his face, she leans in and uses her fingers to get some of the more caked on dirt and shake loose the bits in his short hair. 

He's not super big on touch and touching his face usually isn't allowed but her touch doesn't bring back memories of taking hits, or blades cutting his skin, her soft touch over his rough skins calms him in a way only being a few drinks deep does. The attentive care she puts into everything she does is now being directed at caring for him. The time he spends with her, the care he receives in her meals and now bathing it's slowly filling that void in him, the void that should have been filled with childhood love. He always thought it was too late, that place would always be empty but it turns out that's not true. 

She comes back out in fresh clothes carrying towels. Together they dry Riley and stick him inside away from the apparently very tempting dirt. Next is Simon, she had to get a beach towel since her bath towels would have been too small for him.

“ sorry i don't have any close your size” 

“ oh its no problem, I'm very low maintenance” 

“ come inside when your done” 

He looks at himself and assesses the clothing situation. The tanktop is now see-through so no point with that and his cargo shorts take forever to dry but his boxers are quick dry so that is how he ends up walking into her home shirtless wearing only his boxers and towel skirt. 

He loves the quick shocked expression that flashes over her face when she first sees him, and how after she looks him up and down shamelessly. Good enjoy the view, he puts a lot of work into being in shape. 

“ your clothes, I'll umm, give me you things I'll throw them in the wash real quick”

He's making her stumble over her words, how cute. He hands over his clothes and she quickly disappears with them. Meanwhile he tracks down Riley who's in the kitchen having a drink from a bowl she must have put down, he seats himself at the nearby table and just enjoys the relaxing effects of being around her.

While the laundry's being done and they go over the plan for the pond, it turns out she has drawn up her own plans and has all the details. There's a local farm supply store that even has all the things needed for the pond and she was planning to go out there tomorrow and buy the stuff and they have a delivery service too. He offers to take her and there will be no need for the delivery service with his truck. She gratefully accepts and is glad to bring a man along so they don't try to overprice things, and with Simon at her side who would dare try anything. 

He changed back into his fresh clothes that smell like spring and he's on his way home with a bag of dog biscuits and a cup of iced tea. 

[thetxtdevil]

Heyyyyy can u write something about reader getting caught by kai while using a vibrator. Like i imagined an escenario where reader is waiting for kai at the hotel room while kai is out with the boys in the US (since the relationship is a secret, reader cant be seen w them) and she misses him so much and she starts getting horny by some thoughts and starts playing with herself with the vibrator bc she thought kai was going to arrive much later. Poor little thing gets caught with her legs spread open, dripping wet and moaning so loudly by her beloved boyfriend 😙 (i live by soft dom kai so his reaction will be according to it lmao)

Please and thank u, love ur works hehe💗

--nsfw--

You wait in the lobby of the hotel Kai lead you to through text message. He said he would meet you there to give you a key but here you were sitting on a chair feeling awkward. Flipping through the provided magazines on the coffee table you hear loud conversations very distinct not only from the foreign language but the familiar tone of each member of your boyfriend's group. You smile to yourself standing up to look at the men to suddenly have your stomach start to flutter when you see your boyfriend Kai. It's been so long since you two have been in the same vicinity his presence hit you like a truck. You study his much broader shoulders and his arms were very muscular, his once dusty blue hair were now long dark locks which exaggerated his angelic features so well. Your heart rate pumps a faster when you see his chocolate eyes glance at you. You felt like a high school girl when you became shy as Kai walks towards you.

"Hey beautiful"

"You're the beautiful one."

Kai chuckles getting as bashful as you "lies."

You wanted to grab his chin to look at you but your resisted, "you know I don't lie" He smiles puffing out his chest in confidence, then Kai's eyes widen as if he remembered something, patting down his pocket he pulls out a small card. "Do you have a pen?" he asks and you quickly search for one in your purse. He starts writing something and hands you the card and pen back.

"This is my room key and I wrote down the level and number. I'm going out with the band but I should be back later."

"Oh okay, thanks." You were stunned to see him leave fast watching him go back to the group of men. You awkwardly smile and wave at Yeonjun and Taehyun who were staring at you in suspicion.

"Who's that" Yeonjun nods towards you.

"Oh... uh- a fan" Kai nervously messes up his hair hoping to hide his blush, "noticed her around so I thought I'd finally give her an autograph"

---

You took a deep breath as you bring the electronic key to the pad on the door handle. Making sure you have the right room number once more you swipe the card resulting in a small green light blinking. Opening the door you waddle in with your duffel bag. The room was like any other hotel room, clean, nice bed sheets, warm light, but there was a beautiful view of the city. Admiring the cars stopping and creeping forward, lights illuminating the area making the stars in the sky barely visible. You stop looking to get yourself comfortable in the room removing the extra layers you had on.

Falling onto the bed you let out a huff of boredom. You let your mind wander to your meeting with Kai from earlier, how handsome he is, how big he looked, how much you wanted to graze your fingers along his milky skin. Closing your eyes to imagine him above you, his light sweet kisses pressing into your lips asking about your day or simple "love yous", and his big hands grouping your breasts. As your thoughts go wild your own fingers explore yourself and a hand massage your tit. You flex your thighs together, back arching, your whole body shaking from arousal. You stop for a moment to remember that you brought a little toy for tonight.

Digging through your bag your hand touches a solid object. Picking it up knowing its your handy wand ready to be used. You study the curves of the vibrator remembering how much Kai love to tease you with it. When you both started dating Kai was a little inexperienced with little knowledge of selfcare so you took it upon yourself to show him the great pleasures of sex toys. Stripping away your clothes settling back on the bed you tease your nipples once more. Reaching for the vibrator clicking it on to fill the air with a light buzzing noise. Pressing the vibrations against your clit instantly shot pleasure through your body making it hard to not get needy. You tease yourself over and over again swiping the wand against your folds but never fully fucking yourself.

A small sound of metal of the door knob clicks but was quiet enough to not be noticed by you. However, your smalls gasps and breathy moans could easily been heard from your boyfriend who came through the door. He walks in quietly to see his beautiful girlfriend spread out before him. His cheeks burn a fiery red, big doe eyes shy away embarrassed that he caught you in such a position until he starts to hear your juices that sounded so delicious to him. All his attention came back to you especially when your moans became calls of his name.

He watches the curl of your toes, every spasm of your open legs leading down to your glistening folds moving around your vibrator. Kai's secret cover was compromised when a drawn out groan escaped from deep within him. Your teary eyes open to look around the room finding Kai standing perfectly in front of you, your legs framing his body.

"Kai, angel, I missed you so much a-and I couldn't wa-"

"canieatyouout"

You eyes widen at his abrupt request but then soften as you widen your legs as a sign of welcome. Kai gets on his knees getting a hold of your hips to push you towards him, towards his face so it was morphing into your pussy. You pant at his luscious muscle lapping up every part of you and his nose bumping into your clit so lovingly. Kai lifts his head to grin at your fucked out state then catches a glimpse of the forgotten wand. He grabs it and as his lips latch onto your clit he shoves the vibrator deep inside you receiving a shocked gasp.

You feel lightheaded by the deep penetration. Your vision begins to see stars with every suck and lick of your clit. Looking down at the sight of your boyfriend, Kai, his long dark hair hiding his face that was already hidden in your cunt, his broad shoulders keeping your legs far apart, one hand thrusting the wand in and out of you while the other explores your soft skin. God did you miss him...

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @incogrio

[disgruntledexplainer]

Deltora, a subversion of fantasy tropes (or perhaps more accurately going back to it's roots)

@yellow-eyed-green-crocodile OK, here we go.

Deltora Quest is a children's book series. It consists of 16 books, though it exists in an expanded universe which contains another 12 books, not counting Tales of Deltora, Secrets of Deltora, and Monsters of Deltora (as well as the little-known extra book The Land of Dragons, which contains about half of what's in Tales of Deltora plus 3 additional stories which you can't find anywhere else).

The books were written during that time when Scholastic was doing it's darnedest to get kids to actually pick up a book and read. You know, the era of Animorphs, Secrets of Droon, and other books like that. Pre-harry-potter stuff. But deltora always stuck out as somewhat... odd.

For one thing, the setting. Deltora is a land absolutely INFESTED with horrifying monsters. we're talking lovecraft-level stuff. indeed, these things are so powerful that going toe-to-toe with them in conventional combat is laughably absurd. I mean, just look at this thing:

each of those little globes is a stomach the size of a PERSON. a sword ain't doin SHIT against that thing. and it wasn't even the primary monster from the book it came from. do you know what was? THE SAND IT'S STANDING ON. YES, THAT ENTIRE DESERT IS A SINGLE MONSTER.

there are also dark sorcerers, capable of, for example, turning an entire town into a fetid swamp in a split second, and deflecting any weapon directed at them. the main villain is a sorcerer of such incredible power that he makes zeus and odin look like chumps.

in order to defeat these creatures, the main characters are consistently forced to use their wits instead of their weapons.

but this isn't what I am writing this post about. every fantasy book has monsters of some kind. probably. no, what REALLY stands out about the Deltora Quest series is the BELT.

this is the Belt of Deltora, a composite magic item formed from 7 gems, each linked to the power of the land, bound together by a belt made by a simple blacksmith who united the seven tribes of deltora and became it's first king. it is considered the single most powerful mystical object on the continent, and uniting it is Deltora's only hope for survival.

except from a generic fantasy perspective, it kinda sucks.

in most generic fantasy settings, the characters are attempting to accumulate magical power which they can use to engage their enemies directly in combat; alternatively, they may be trying to build a big enough army or something similar. but the gems don't work like that. lets take a look at what the gems can actually do, shall we?

the Diamond: Gem of Strength or Fortitude, can give physical strength, fortitude, and courage to the wielder, as well as the ability to cure diseases in the person who touches it. it punishes those who attempt to take it in a dishonorable manner with misfortune. It can allow the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal Diamond Dragons, and a nearby dragon of it's type boosts it's power, and vice versa. it also has this weird synergy with the topaz where the topaz can summon the strength of everyone who believes in the wearer (in a metaphorical sense) and the diamond transforms that belief into physical strength.

the Emerald: Gem of Honor, dulls in the presense of evil or at the location of a broken vow, is a remedy for sores and ulcers, and is an antidote to poison for whomever touches it. It can allow the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal Emerald Dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa. Note that out of all the dragons, emerald dragons are arguably the biggest and most powerful. It might have other powers as well, as it's potential isn't as well explored as the other gems.

Lapis Lazuli: Gem of Luck or Providence, protects the wearer from evil and brings good fortune. also may have some subtle effect on the weather, though that hasn't been confirmed. it is arguably the most powerful of the gems for the protection it provides, but the nature of it's power is ill defined, and certainly outside of the wearer's ability to control. It also allows you to detect the location of the Opal as if it were a compass, and is more powerful when in close proximity to it. It can allow the wearer to telepathically communicate and heal Lapis Lazuli dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa. If the opal has it's power boosted by a nearby opal dragon, the Lapis Lazuli's power is also boosted if they are close to each other.

Topaz: Gem of Faith, can allow the wearer to make contact with the spirit world during a full moon. the character can see ghosts, and sometimes the spirits of the hallowed dead (those who are in heaven) will appear to the character and given advice, those this is extremely rare. It also clears and strengthens the mind and protects the wearer from the terrors of the night (also ill-defined). It's powers are all strengthened during the full moon. It can allow the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal topaz dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa.

Opal: Gem of Hope, has the power to give glimpses of the future and can enhance the wearer's vision, and it can also fill the wearer with hope for the future (which helps counteract the panic that the visions of the future often produce). It can detect the Lapis Lazuli like a compass, and is more powerful when in close proximity to it. It allows the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal opal dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa. If the Lapis Lazuli has it's power boosted by a nearby lapis lazuli dragon, the opal's power is also boosted if they are close to each-other.

The Ruby: Gem of Happiness or Love, it grows pale in the presense of evil, or when misfortune threatens it's wearer. Can be used in conjunction with the emerald to fully distinguish between danger, evil, and vow-breakers, since their powers overlap a little. It wards off evil spirits (also ill-defined) and is an antidote to snake venom, and also apparently repels snakes and venomous creatures in general. It allows the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal ruby dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa.

The Amethyst: Gem of Truth or Wisdom, changes color in the presence of illness, pales near poisoned food or drink, and guides the wearer toward sincerity, security and peace of mind (AKA calming the wearer when touched). It also boosts the power of Toran Magic. By A LOT. It allows the wearer to telepathically communicate with and heal Amethyst dragons, and a nearby dragon of that type boosts it's power, and vice versa.

True, this is a lot of variety in powers, but with the exception of the Diamond most of this is pretty useless in combat. Especially given that the sorcerers in this world can do things like call lightning down from the sky, or create and control thousands of soldiers made out of goo. And compared to the combat capabilities of end-game weapons of other setting? it's chump change. it should be noted that the gems DO NOT allow the wielder to control dragons, only telepathically communicate with them, meaning that the King of Deltora must still negotiate to get any help, and the Dragons are rarely cooperative, even in the face of their own extinction. The gems don't give you the ability to control the elements, warp space and time, kill with a thought, fly, or turn into a glowing giant (whatever the anime adaptation might say to the contrary).

No, what the gems allow the user to do is: keep a level and clear head, detect potentially dangerous situations, and heal people of ailments.

but here's the thing; given what I said about the monsters in deltora, any of the spectacular kinds of magic would be pretty much useless. The Shadow Lord is beyond anything any mortal is capable of fighting; he has integrated his twisted will with the spirit of half a continent, and has experimenting with new and more twisted kinds of magic for thousands of years. Frankly, even by the standards of most "dark lords" like Sauron, Melkor, and Galbatorix, he is unimaginably powerful. a direct confrontation with him is laughable.

so then, why is the Belt considered one of the most powerful objects on the planet?

Well, because what it grants isn't power.

it grants FREEDOM.

freedom is defined as "the power, rooted in reason and will, to act or not to act, to do this or that, and so perform deliberate actions on one's own responsibility. By free will one shapes one's own life. Human freedom is a force for growth and maturity in truth and goodness[...]" -Catechism of the Catholic Church section 1731

in other words, Freedom, properly defined, is not the ability to do what one wants; that is power, not freedom. Freedom is the ability to do what one NEEDS to do. Freedom to protest. Freedom to preach. Freedom to worship. Freedom to defend oneself both physically and legally. These are freedoms.

Now lets look again at what the belt enables one to do. It allows one to clear and calm one's mind and strengthens one's will, heals, protects from certain kinds of danger, and allows one to heal others. These are not powers, they are FREEDOMS.

oh yeah, and I forgot one more of these freedoms:

WHEN ALL THE GEMS ARE PUT IN THE BELT TOGETHER, THEY PRODUCE A MAGICAL SCREEN WHICH BANISHES DARK MAGIC AND THOSE WHOSE SOULS ARE TAINTED BY IT.

it is not combat power, but it is a power FAR GREATER THAN ANY COMBAT POWER COULD EVER FEASIBLY BE

In a sense, this subverts normal fantasy tropes by going back to its roots. When JRR Tolkien wrote the Lord of the Rings, he wrote a book about simple working class and middle class people defeating an evil by DESTROYING POWER (with a One Ring being a kind of stand-in for power itself in all it's forms). yet, it seems that every writer since has taken a look at his work and gone "look at all this cool world-building and monsters and magic! but the protagonists and themes are kinda lame. I KNOW, i'll REPLACE those complex and nuanced themes with EDGY GRIZZLED WARRIORS AND POWER-HUNGRY SORCERERS, and make the story all about CONSOLIDATING AS MUCH POWER AS POSSIBLE TO DEFEAT SOMEONE WHO HAS ALSO CONSOLODATED AS MUCH POWER AS POSSIBLE, BUT IN AN EVIL WAY. sometimes they even have their characters performing actions which are completely morally bankrupt (razing cities, killing civilians or surrendering enemies, etc), and justify it because "main villain is worse". because in other words, most fantasy writers decided to completely rip off all of tolkien's world, down to the very creatures that inhabit it, but HORRIBLY INVERT the themes

Meanwhile, Deltora seems to do the opposite. It doesn't copy Tolkien's world. there are similarities; the Shadow Lord is kinda like Sauron if you squint a little. but the world is populated with plenty of creatures that don't line up at all, and even those that are similar are only superficially so. meanwhile, Emily Rodda (the author) took a look at Tolkien's themes, smiled and nodded, and proceeded to ELABORATE UPON THEM. The kingdom of deltora fell because the rulers detached themselves from the needs of the common man and physically separated themselves from them out of cowardice. the shadow lord twists and destroys nature to produce his horrific experiments which mirror in many ways modern genetic engineering. the battle is won not through force of arms, but through planning, cleverness, and uniting the tribes under a common cause.

there are other things, like how each gem corresponds to one of the seven virtues, or how so much emphais is put on using logic to solve problems, and similar things, but this post is long as it is, so i'm going to stop here.

[saturnville]

ii hands ii heaven, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x she (black!fem!reader) warning: suggested sexual situations content: in which two newlyweds bask in the essence of one another. an: don't ask me what I know about LH44, I'm not gonna front and act like I know this man like the back of my hand. I saw some videos, watched some interviews, read some fics, and now we're here. just know I wanted to write & I pictured him for this fic lol. hope y'all enjoy

Soft mewls flowed from her parted lips like a waterfall. Her noises dove and crashed into the deepest oceans of their devotion. The intimacy of the moment was deep. They welcomed themselves to drown in it, leaving air at the surface and choosing to inhale the breath of adoration the other exuded. 

With the soft light of dawn peering through the curtains, their bodies wove together like yarn, knotted together and unable to be untangled. As he whispered sweet sentiments against the shell of her ear, the remnants of the outside world faded away.

The desperation for one another flowed between them like lava, further igniting their passion and desire. They moved together in a unified harmony, exploring all the other had to offer. Tender affection and unrestrained passion were their portion. Each fiery touch, each delicate kiss was an unspoken promise of the depth of their love. 

When the heat of passion began to cool, they stayed wrapped in the warm embrace of one another; damp bodies pressed against each other like glue. On their lips were smiles fueled by dopamine. Low eyes filled with adoration. 

“Hi,” he spoke softly, his breath warm against her lips. She giggled like a lovesick teenager and whispered back, bringing her trembling hand to his face, drumming her finger over his bitten and swollen lips. “Let’s get ready, yeah?” 

She nodded slowly, her face lifting against the pillow as her head moved. She sat up slowly, her wince falling on the ears of her lover. He swiftly wrapped his arms around her and swept her off the warm bed. She squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Baby!” 

He hummed softly and placed her on her feet. His tattooed arm opened the shower door and turned the handle. He waited for the water to warm before ushering her into the shore with a tap against her bottom. She scolded him playfully, “Hands to yourself.” 

“I’ll try my best.” 

What was intended to be a quick cleanse turned into a thirty-minute shower with heavy droplets against their bodies as she was pressed against the glass, heaving as the humidity invaded her throat. Goodness, they’d be so late. 

They couldn’t keep themselves off of each other. His zipping the back of her dress led to his fingers brushing her hair off her neck and tracing the placement of her dark locks with his lips. Her eyelids fluttered closed as her hands gripped the edge of the counter. He would be the death of her. 

Her tongue darted out and slid over her swollen bottom lip. His hands began to wander over the perfectly fitted dress. It was the prettiest emerald green shade and complimented her skin's richness wonderfully. Every curve, riff, and ridge was accentuated. She looked beautiful. 

“Okay, okay,” she whimpered, pressing her hands against his thigh. “We gotta go, baby, we gotta go.” She turned in his arms and began fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. His chest, decorated with tattoos and the finest of jewelry. 

“You look stunning,” he whispered, caressing her waist. “So pretty.”

She smiled bubbly and pecked his lips, “Thank you kindly.” Her hands smoothed out the thick linen of his suit jacket, the bling from her rings catching his eye. His heart leaped at the sight.  

He hummed lowly and squeezed her bottom, smirking when his fingers caught the dampness between her legs. She gave him a look. He gave one back. “Mhm. The quicker we get out of here, the quicker we get back. Let’s go, Mrs. Hamilton.” 

“That’ll never get old,” she said, reaching behind to swipe her purse off the counter. 

Her husband smiled softly and led her out of their shared bedroom. With a light kiss against her temple, he said, “It’s not supposed to. Let’s get out of here.” As they prepared to depart, the intimacy lingered like the sweetness of her fragrance., 

With whispered words, playful touches, and gentle kisses, they prepared themselves for what the outside world had to offer. Heaven.

[trickgenderr]

,, wrapped so prettily in lace ''

so,, this is my first time writing on here, i don't know how this app works so. i hope this is readable :3

dean x angel!reader (gn!reader)

cw: corruption (but in a gentle way), light nsfw, dry humping, lingerie, clothed sex, innocent user, no pronouns used, no use of y/n,

this was originally a bot i wrote so, i simply overworked this and added some stuff. i hope this is readable 🥹 english is not my first language so.

Angels were never something Dean believed in. Demons? Absolutely. Vampires, werewolves, and ghosts? Without a doubt. He had encountered them all. But angels? That was a different story; they simply couldn't exist in his reality. His life had been so chaotic that the very idea of angels felt impossible.

Then Castiel arrived, and soon after, you entered the scene. But you were nothing like Castiel. You shared a similar innocence, yet it was refreshing rather than irritating.

Your bright eyes and warm smile radiated friendliness, making you open to everything around you. While Dean appreciated Castiel, you brought a different energy. Each time he playfully flirted, your cheeks would flush beautifully, and you would shyly look away.

Naturally, Dean was eager to share the intricacies of humanity with you. How could he resist? Every time you asked with that sweet, timid voice, he found it impossible to say no.

Dean often found himself missing you. You weren't around as frequently as Castiel, but whenever you showed up, it brought him unparalleled joy.

He reminded himself repeatedly that he shouldn't let his guard down; he was softening for an angel. As a hunter, he had spent years building up his defenses. Yet, every time he gazed at you, those thoughts faded away. There was nothing dark about you. You were pure, far too good for someone as damaged as him.

It seemed that you were also growing closer to Dean. You lingered a bit longer, spending more time together in solitude.

You felt a pang of guilt. Angels weren't supposed to experience such emotions, especially not for a human. Not for Dean. Not for anyone at all. Yet, you found it impossible to resist. There was something captivating in the hunter's gaze that drew you in. Soft whispers passed between you, and his green eyes lingered on yours, eventually leading to your first kiss.

Whatever connection you shared, Dean embraced it wholeheartedly. He enjoyed having you close, relishing the moments of touch, the warmth of hugs, and the intimacy of holding you tight. To him, you were a cherished treasure, like a delicate porcelain doll he wished to protect.

But your curiosity only grew. You adapted quickly to Dean, and soon enough, you found yourself initiating kisses and intertwining your fingers with his. The hunter recognized your burgeoning curiosity, and at one point, you timidly broached the subject of sex.

You mentioned that you had spoken to Sam about it, which momentarily filled Dean with dread. He didn't want his brother to know about his bond with an angel. However, as you shyly began to undress, all thoughts of Sam vanished.

There you stood, a pure angel adorned in beautiful white lace that hugged your form. Dean could only watch in awe, blinking in disbelief. You looked stunningly innocent, even in your satin panties and lovely lace stockings.

"Where did you find that?" he whispered, frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights. Yet, he didn’t wait for a reply. His eagerness to guide you through this new experience was palpable, as he wanted to explore every detail with you, step by step.

That’s how you both found yourselves on the bed, with you lying beneath Dean. The hunter tenderly kissed and caressed, savoring every inch of your angelic skin. He could sense you beginning to squirm, the soft mewls and gentle pants escaping your lips. Everything felt so fresh and exhilarating for you, but he could tell you were enjoying it just as much.

Slowly, his hips began to move against yours. Dean was already hard and throbbing in his jeans, but he was determined to take his time, not wanting to overwhelm you. He wanted to keep that beautiful lingerie on you, reluctant to remove it just yet. With a gentle rhythm, he moved against you, feeling you respond to his every motion.

You were simply perfect. In every way. The expression on your face, the sounds you made, and how your body reacted to his touch captivated him. He was falling in love—deeply enamored with something so pure and innocent, taking his time to corrupt you gently and lovingly.

Dean carefully lifted himself onto his elbows, gazing down at your face. Your eyes were shut, completely immersed in the ecstasy of the moment. A wave of affection washed over him as he felt your hips move perfectly against his.

"You're absolutely perfect," he grunted, tenderly cradling your face in his large hands. "My angel."

His words sent a delightful shiver through you, a soft moan escaping your lips. You quietly complained about the possibility of ruining your lingerie, but Dean silenced you with a gentle kiss, a grin spreading across his face.

"Shhh, your pretty white panties will stay clean," he murmured against your skin, his hand sliding down between your bodies. He intended to take his time, not wanting to rush, yet the overwhelming need for more friction was driving him wild.

With a grunt, he fumbled with the zipper and button of his jeans, finally releasing his throbbing length. You were too caught up in the moment to notice, squirming and arching your hips as Dean paused his movements. He silenced you with another kiss, rubbing his hard cock against your clothed sex.

"Damn... just look at you," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. The tantalizing friction of his exposed length against the damp fabric of your cotton panties was intoxicating, prompting him to quicken his pace, eliciting sweet squeals and mewls from the angel beneath him.

It didn't take long for you to lose control, especially with Dean rutting against you so fervently. The intensity of the sensation was almost too much, causing you to gasp and tremble as waves of pleasure washed over you. Dean obviously noticed your reaction.

He eased his thrusts, observing your exquisite expression until you began to whimper from the overstimulation. Leaning down, he murmured sweet nothings and praises against your skin, his hand wrapped around himself, jerking and stroking himself to chase his own relief.

It wasn't long before Dean reached his peak as well—given the way you were moaning and softly calling his name, it was hardly surprising. He released himself onto your panties and stomach, creating a delightful mess on the delicate fabric.

"Sorry, I'll get you a new pair, sweetheart," the hunter breathed, planting a gentle kiss on your lips and holding you close as you both gradually came down from the exhilarating moment.

[sanshinesante]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ᴡɪᴘᴇs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇᴀʀs ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ, ʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴀʟsᴏ ᴡɪᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴏɴ ʜɪs ʙᴇᴅ. ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇᴀʀs ᴏꜰ ᴅɪsᴘᴀʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜɪs ᴛᴇᴀʀs ᴏꜰ ʀᴇɴᴀɪssᴀɴᴄᴇ ఌ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs; ᴠᴇʀʏ ɴᴀsᴛʏ sᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ɪssᴜᴇs, ᴄʀʏʙᴀʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ sʀʀʏ) ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ (35 ᴀɴᴅ 19), ᴠɪʀɢɪɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ sᴇx, ᴀʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀᴀsɪɴɢ ᴏᴍɢ, sᴜʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴄᴀʀ sᴇx, ᴠᴏʏᴇᴜʀɪsᴍ, ᴅɪsᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇ, ᴄʜᴏᴋɪɴɢ, ᴄᴜᴍ ᴘʟᴀʏ, ᴄᴜᴍ ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ʀᴏʟᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ, ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴɪsᴍ, (ᴀʟᴍᴏsᴛ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ɪ sᴡᴇᴀʀ), ǫᴜɪʀᴏꜰɪʟɪᴀ (ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ), ᴇᴅɢɪɴɢ, Kᴀᴛᴏᴘᴛʀᴏɴᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ (ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ sᴇx), Sᴏᴍɴᴏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ, ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴄᴀʀᴇ, ᴀɴɢᴜsᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏʟᴇ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 700 ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴇᴀsᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍɪɴɪ ᴏɴᴇ sʜᴏᴛ; ɪᴅᴋ ʏᴇᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴏᴡ 5.1ᴋ

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Your smooth skin is being kissed more by Jungkook as you breathe deeply underneath him. He no longer follows up with you. He asks, "Are you okay, princess?" before moving on. He says, "Just let me know if you want me to stop." His warm breath tickles your ear. Unable to speak, you nod, granting him the green light he requests.

"Are you sure you can?" Grinning against your skin, he whispers, "What me to do it some more. His lips brush across your skin. The feeling chills down your spine and makes you want more of what's already inside of you. You give yourself over to his touch, lost in the pleasure.

"What is the magic word?" Jungkook said with a grimace. He laughs lightly, a tone of delight in his voice. He whispers, "Patience." His fingertips make little, delicate patterns across your skin. You're waiting anxiously for his next move as the tension increases and the situation becomes more intense.

You exhale, "Please," and he keeps kissing down your neck, sucking a little of your kiss and leaving a settled red mark. Your blood pressure rises as a result of the feeling, which shocks you to the bone. Your burning desire ignites with every touch and kiss, stoking a fire that you can't put out.

His hands travel down your body and smooth his hand against your ass. "Are you sure?" you nod.

"Yes, yes, please keep touching me." You want him closer; the pool of warmth between your legs is growing more and more. As he continues to explore your body, his touch becomes more urgent, igniting a hunger within you that cannot be quenched. The anticipation builds as you yearn for him to take you further into the depths of pleasure, knowing that every touch and caress will only fuel the fire burning inside you.

You pull him closer, and the dark candlelight makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

"Let's go to bed, baby; I want to make sure you are comfortable." He lifts you up and wraps your legs around him. As he carries you towards the bedroom, his strength and confidence only intensify the desire pulsating through your veins. The anticipation reaches its peak as you both surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of passion, ready to explore the depths of pleasure together.

Letting him take you to bed You trust him completely, knowing that he will make you feel safe and cherished in his arms. As you lay down, the softness of the sheets envelops your body, adding to the sensuality of the moment. The room becomes a sanctuary where time stands still, allowing you to fully immerse yourself in the intimacy and connection you share with him.

"Are we going to have sex?" You question.

"No," you frown at the response because you want him so bad; you want him inside of you. To touch you like he did for two days in the car. But he shakes his head, a gentle smile on his lips. "Not tonight," he whispers, his voice filled with tenderness. You feel a mix of disappointment and anticipation, knowing that he wants to take things slow and savor every moment of your time together. The desire between you intensifies, fueling the anticipation for when the time is right.

To touch you as he instructed you when you got inside your room to touch yourself for the first time.

"We are going to make love, but only if you're comfortable," he says, his eyes locked with yours. You appreciate his respect for your boundaries and the importance he places on your comfort. The anticipation builds as you both share a deep connection, knowing that when the moment comes, it will be a beautiful and intimate experience between two people who truly care for each other.

while shutting the door, and your body peeks up, filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. As you lay on his bed, you take a moment to reflect on the trust and vulnerability you have built, grateful for the safe space they have created for this exploration of pleasure and self-discovery. He is also ready for what he has in store.