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orion-nottson · 1 year

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devil’s in the details | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: i have tfp megatron brain rot. like i know he’s cray cray and deluded, but literally so am i we’re made for each other he’s mine

also this obvi deviates from canon, bc there is no way on god’s green earth that dreadwing and starscream could coexist semi-peacefully.

also, please be warned that i haven’t written transformers fanfic since i was like 14 💀💀 fought for my LIFE with the terminology (had to check my old WATTPAD stories to find some vocab 💀)

summary: lord megatron propositions you. it’s a rather bold request.

content: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, femme!cybertronian!reader, seeker!reader, sticky sexual interfacing, breeding kink, wee lil bit of choking, technically boss/employee relationship, power dynamic (it gets semi-resolved), implied past relationship/thought unrequited love, average decepticon emotional constipation, business arrangement procreation

word count: 6,367

~ * ~ * ~

The Decepticon warship lingers somewhere over the southern pole of Earth, resulting in a dramatic decrease in temperature, even with the efficiency of Cybertronian technology. You shift your wings for the umpteenth time, armor plates releasing air to alleviate the discomforting chill that’s started to bother you. Of course, it was far from being so cold that you needed to worry about your core temperature, but you are a Seeker from Vos, and Vos was always warm.

The thought makes your wings tremble again, so you hurry yourself to your quarters with a bit more haste.

It wouldn’t suddenly be warm and tropical, but at least you’d be able to curl up and shiver in privacy. Recharge sounds particularly nice too, considering you’ve been up for several cycles trying to appease Lord Megatron’s endless demands. Inwardly, you roll your optics— There seems to be nothing you can do that would satisfy him.

The corridor finally breaks into the wing that houses Decepticon high command, where yours and your fellow officers reside. Your room is down almost the entire expanse of the hall, the turn right before where Megatron’s personal habsuite lies. From where you’re walking, you can spot the sleek, black metal door. A chill runs up your back struts, and your processor convinces you it’s from the icy cold that’s overtaken the Nemesis.

“Curse this inhospitable, organic planet.” Muttering to yourself dissuades you from also blaming your Master, who was no help either, if you were to be honest. He could shove his “not wanting to expend precious Energon on unnecessary heating” decree up his tail pipe.

You resign yourself to some rather cold nights for the foreseeable future. Perhaps... If you played your cards right, as the humans say, you could convince Soundwave to pilot the ship north. Maybe somewhere near Hawaii...

A sharp, gravelly voice from behind you calls your name, and you spin around to see your Lord and Master a ways down the corridor from you. Immediately bringing yourself to attention, you straighten your back struts and bow politely.

“My liege.” You say, thanking Primus you’ve become so accustomed to Megatron’s thunderous shouts that you no longer jump, let alone flinch, when they occur. The silver mech strides up to you easily, displaying all the strength of a warrior in the confidence of his steps.

“Retiring to your quarters?” He asks austerely, as if he’s ever concerned himself with your whereabouts, let alone personal routine. Unease creeps up on you, so you shift on the thrusters of your peds and cross your servos over your chassis. Wings fluttering, you reply slowly, “Well, yes.”

“Allow me to accompany you there.” The silver mech says brightly, and it’s such an absurdly peculiar request for both the mech saying it and the situation at hand. You instinctively snort a laugh.

“I do believe I know the way to my own habsuite, my Lord.” You say before you can stop the words from coming out, and immediately regret them once they do. You meet Megatron’s hard stare sheepishly, wings dropping timorously. Forgetting your place in the grand scheme of things is not wise amongst the Decepticon ranks.

To your utter shock, you’re not met with a vicious reprimand and instead Megatron grins— this wickedly suave thing— and purrs, “Humor me.”

And all you can say is, “Of course.”

Megatron hums appreciatively, brushing past you as he takes the lead, like he always does. You step in time behind him, nearly colliding into his back struts when he suddenly halts, and you stumble backwards a few steps. The looming mech pivots, glancing down at you with a quizzical expression in his glowing optics.

“Seekers are a rare breed, yes?” Lord Megatron asks, and whatever game he’s begun to play with you genuinely stumps any reasoning you attempt. Opening your mouth, your optics dart over his face, trying to decode whatever message your Master is sending and coming up empty.

“Er... Yes, my liege? Even before the war, Vos was not a populous city-state. There are probably... even less now.” You reply cautiously, becoming very put off as Megatron takes a step towards you. He looks as impassive as ever, though you’re beginning to see a very curious appraising expression overtaking his faceplates. It begins with the upcurve of his mouth, derma pulled into the most wolfish grin you’ve ever seen on the mech.

Utterly bizarre. Your processors want to reset because this Megatron is starting to look like the studly gladiator of Kaon you’d hear be lasciviously giggled about, not the ruthless, merciless tyrant he’s supposed to be.

“I have a rather... avant-garde proposition for you, my most loyal Seeker.” Megatron purrs, his servos clasped easily behind him as you’ve seen him too many times before, often when he schemes. He’s also talking to you as if this is casual, expected business of him; matter-of-fact and cordial, with his usual cool drawl.

Before you can reply, Megatron turns sharply once more and begins walking down the corridor, stopping after a few steps when he realizes you hadn’t started with him. He turns his helm to look back at you, this time there’s this strangely unreadable expression on his faceplates.

“Follow me.” He says simply, and without a second thought, you do.

Even though you’re a Seeker with naturally long legs, his pedsteps are even longer strides, so you have to exert some effort in keeping up with Megatron. It adds to the growing franticness that’s begun to bubble up inside your chassis.

While not exactly fear, though that’s certainly part of it, you’ve been a Decepticon and aboard the Nemesis under Megatron’s direct command long enough to know that when he becomes cryptic, it means trouble. Or at least a command that you’d rather not be the one to deal with. Bluntly asking what the frag he’s on about wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you know that he likes you enough not to offline you immediately if you did.

So you do.

“My Lord, what exactly are you asking of me?” You inquire, noting with slight abject horror as Megatron approaches the door to your quarters and types in your lock code with ease. Of course, he is the leader after all. Instead of answering your question, he makes you feel even more uneasy by throwing you a mysteriously sultry look and quipping, “Let me have you if only for a breem. Or longer should I entertain you.”

You catch the flash of his ruby optics, their intentions indiscernible, and then he disappears into your habsuite like it’s his own.

There’s something to it, an itch of a thought that’s begun to decipher the puzzle and put together the pieces. Lately, Megatron has been far more... involved with you, more eager at your presence, and it was blatantly obvious that he grew quite miffed when others got too close. It was no secret to anyone— From Soundwave and Starscream to a lowly technician— that Megatron had an optic for you (many did, frankly) and thus he was quite possessive of your wiles and charms as well.

This line of thought leads you to step into your room, slowly and evenly as if it’s unmarked territory and not the quarters that were assigned to you millennia ago.

“Lord Megatron...” You trail off, catching his stare just as he sets your old null ray back on your weapons rack, where most of your old, dismantled, and prized tools are located. Your null ray had been a favorite, until some blasted Autobot blew out the important bits that kept it working. That had stung, and even eons later you still curse that specific Autobot to the Pits.

Megatron flexes his claws, and with a flourish he clasps his servos behind him once again. His red optics scan the entirety of your quarters, lingering on your berth until they come back to rest on you. His gaze is equal parts unnerving and fascinating, as if he’s deconstructing you armor by armor, stripping you down until he’s watched your spark pulse.

His optics, like twin red suns, center you at their universes, and you feel oddly... flattered at their amorous disposition.

“It is no secret that I have watched you for some time.” Megatron starts, tilting his helm as he becomes pensive. You nod dumbly, hardly processing a word he’s saying. Megatron takes a single step towards you, looming like a shadow. In the dim lighting of your room, his silver armor catches all the chiaroscuro, his violet accents hued to black. Only his glowing, fiery optics remain bright. He continues.

“I admit,—” Megatron drawls your name deliciously, “— That I have found myself... captivated by your beauty. Entranced by your prowess, both in battle and mind.”

“I...” Your vents hitch, wings shivering at the praise. Blinking rapidly to ensure this isn’t some monumentally vivid dream, you clear your intake and say, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, my Lord.”

Megatron laughs, that slight chuckle that sounds halfway between his engines roaring and something genuine that comes from the spark. The silver mech’s rolls his shoulders, armor hissing as it releases air. Wildly, he confesses something you never would have expected from him, “I believe myself bewitched.”

His servos have clasped themselves into fists at his sides, and briefly you wonder if he’s angry with you, then his entire frame relaxes like he’s decompressing after a long spar with Dreadwing.

“Tell me, my little Seeker, why have you denied yourself of me for so long?” Megatron asks it like a tease, like he’s some boon to be revered or a sacred sword to be wielded. Heat rises beneath your armor plating, and your processors race kilometers a nanosecond to find a suitable answer. Or at least one that doesn’t make you sound like some lovesick femmeling.

You couldn’t lie and say you had no... feelings for your Master, who was as handsome and dark as he was powerful and cunning. Megatron was once a gladiator of Kaon, and gladiators on Cybertron were what you had often admired, marveling at their strength, drive, and raw spark. Megatron had been no different, though you also found his commanding presence and impressive intellect to be even more attractive.

That was really why you’d joined the Decepticon cause all those millennia ago; Drawn to your Master’s fight to bring equality to the rigid castes and to seize control of the Energon supply to better disperse it by his charismatic allure.

And somehow, Megatron knew all of this.

“It would have been insubordination if I acted upon my... desires.” You reply, crossing your arms over your ample chassis with a shrug. Megatron matches your collected temperament with a hum, staring down at you with unreadable red optics.

“Indeed. Though I wish you’d had disobeyed, my little Seeker.” Megatron purrs, taking a step towards you that closes the space between your frames and boxes you in. His EM field magnifies the atmosphere around you, tingling at the periphery of yours.

“M-My liege?” You gape, faceplates feeling hot as metal left in direct sunlight. He chuckles, and sinfully the tip of his glossa runs over his pointed denta. Your spark skips a beat, owlishly watching

“If I had known sooner that you wanted me as direly as I did you, then this song and dance would have concluded vorns ago.” Megatron growls, optics flashing with not anger, but lust. He takes another step, and you’re speechless.

“That being said, I am patient. I have no qualms with how long we have waited, nor will I if you choose to wait longer.” One of the tyrant’s long, clawed digits clicks at the bottom of your chin, tilting your face upwards. His touch is delicate, like you’d break if he pushed too hard. Honestly, you probably would if he did. Part of you wants to see him try.

“What did you want to ask of me?” You whisper, optics fluttering until they stay half-lidded and dewy under the carnal scrutiny of your Lord. Megatron grins, a sliver of sharp denta flashing in the lowlights of your habsuite. He takes a final step towards you, a half-shuffle that does well to close the gap between your frames, the air warming from the work of your combined engines. You hope he feels the way your spark races, hope he feels the heat emanating from your core.

“Give me an heir, carry a sparkling of my code and stand beside me as my queen.” With each word, laden with desire until it shows in his optics that drip with lust, Megatron has you against the wall of your habsuite, one servo tracing the sleek edge of your wing.

It’s entirely intoxicating, and against your better judgment and all remaining reason— and mostly because you haven’t had a good, hard frag in ages— you moan.

It’s a soft, angelic sound that barely catches on the audials, but it makes Megatron grin like a shark. You gasp, affronted, optics flickering, “My liege!”

“Have I offended you?” He breathes, and suddenly his mouth is against your neck cables, each word leaving the softest of kisses on your Energon lines. Your resolve nearly crumbles entirely, each brush of his dermas like a shot of high grade to the systems. You sigh, vents hissing, and place one servo on his chassis. Beneath the broad expanse of silver armor, his engines rumble like thunder on the horizon. It makes you pulse with need.

“No.” You whisper, wanting to sing as Megatron kisses the slope of your jaw, then pecks the side of your mouth, agape with shock. He pulls back, the heat of him evaporating as soon as he’s once again standing at his full height. You tremble, not from the cold, but from his absence.

It’s not something you’d ever given much thought about, your feelings towards your Lord and Master, but it’s something that’s come rushing back. All the suppressed thoughts, the dashed dreams, the impossible futures... They come back to you and leave you weak in the knee joints, cooling fans whirring from the memories of the fantasies you’d entertained when you’d had long midnights alone.

“What say you then?” Megatron’s stare is hard, unshaking and fully serious. He wants to have a sparkling with you, wants you to bear him an heir— He wants you as his queen and equal, to stand beside him and lead the Decepticon cause. The expression on his face is a cross between a wild animal, wanting to ravage you the nanosecond you say Yes, and the warlord with enough resolve and self-restraint to accept if you say No.

It’s all so much at once. Eons of time made up in just a single question. Details and technicalities will have to be conferred over later, as for now you’re content with the conditions as-is.

“Well... You are a handsome mech, my liege.” You reply, teasing him by placing a chaste kiss directly on the Decepticon insignia on his chassis. He doesn’t say anything, only his engine rumbles more audibly. You look up at him and salaciously imply with a coy smirk, “I do believe we’d make a fine clutch of sparklings.”

And then you find yourself swept up into his arms, back struts and wings pressed against the wall, your Lord’s hips slotted perfectly against yours. The more base urges inside you squeal, your Seeker coding nearly overtaking you and having you present to him like a turbofox in heat.

Not one to be outdone, Megatron quips, “And you are quite the striking femme— Shall I ravage you against the wall or your berth?”

You laugh, cut off only when Megatron captures your dermas in his, drowning you in the roughness of a mech starved of Energon. He kisses like he owns the practice and has made it an artform; Dragging your dermas with his, glossa invading your mouth, denta nipping dangerously close to sensitive nodes and wiring. You moan and gasp, coming to the realization that one of your servos grips his wrist and the other is flat against his chassis.

You shutter your optics, reveling in Megatron’s power and dominance, wanting so desperately for him to devour you. The warmth blossoms, spreading throughout your core until you feel charges pulse at your interface panels that have you whimpering.

After what feels like vorns, Megatron parts and your dermas unlock with a metallic pop. Megatron’s mouth ghosts over yours, and he hums as he repeats himself, “Berth or wall, little Seeker?”

“The berth, my liege.” You urge breathlessly, a delighted sound escaping you as Megatron heaves you from the wall and carries you to your desired destination. He isn’t gentle when he deposits you on your berth, doesn’t mind the wings, so you hiss when your back struts connect with the metal beneath you. Megatron manages to keep himself between the smooth metal of your thighs as he hitches one knee up onto the berth.

“I wonder,” Megatron stops to kiss you deeply once more, making your processors spin, “If this is an auspicious position for conception.”

A bite to the dermas stifles your wanton moan. Your Lord may not be fully aware of it yet, but each mention of being sparked, of bearing his heirs, has your more base urges spiraling out of control. While Vos was not populated by many Seekers, the need to breed is more hardwired into the programming than most other frame types. His words act like fuel to the fire.

“O-Oh— I can only hope.” You gasp, your whimpering cries smothered by Megatron’s dermas in yet another bruising, brusque kiss. This time, he lingers, slows down as if he savors the taste of you on his glossa. Your servos grip his shoulders, smoothing along his breadth before your pointed digits grip at the armor panels high on his back. Megatron responds most enjoyably, using one servo to anchor himself above you and the other to caress down your body.

His servo travels from the curve of your waist, talons scratching at your paint, down to the slope of your hip where it rests heavy and warm on the junction of your thigh. He teases the sharp point of his thumb digit on the transformation seam nearest your interface panels, causing you to arch your back struts like a cat. Megatron uses this opportunity to settle a servo on the low of your back struts, where he pinches at the sensitive nodes at the bases of your wings. That makes you cry out, your cooling fans whirring loudly as a charge builds up deep inside you.

You’ve never been this close to an overload so quickly before, though you’ve had many sleepless nights built up to bring you to this moment. And Megatron proves his expertise in the berth, past rumors and gossip proven to hold more truth than you once thought.

Your entire frame feels electrified, your lower body feels like it’s on fire, the heat centered gloriously on your interfacing parts. Particularly your valve and anterior node, which feel wet and pulse beneath the panel with each of your sparkbeats.

“You react so gratifyingly.” Megatron purrs, his gravelly drawl like fine high grade on the audials, uncharacteristically sweet and sensual. He glances down at your interface panels, where your glowing transfluid is beginning to seep out along the seams. With a devious grin, Megatron meets your gaze just as he presses his thumb digit to your overheated panel.

“Megatron!” You cry his name, forsaking honorifics, and nearly overloading on the spot. Almost unconsciously, you send a command and your valve panel slides open, revealing your weeping slit and throbbing anterior node. You cry out again when Megatron wastes no time and starts tight, small circles on the sensitive bundle of mesh wire and circuitry.

“Beautiful.” He hums, quickening his pace on your anterior node as he notices sparks fly as your charge builds. You grip his back, claws digging at his silver armor and leaving scratches in his already worn paint. Megatron leans in, steals your dermas in a kiss, keeps circling your wet node, and just as you see warnings for an imminent overload— He stops.

The charge doesn’t die, but it decreases to a staticky tingle, and you part from the kiss, scandalized that he’s prevented your overload. You gape at Megatron, giving him a glare that could rival the World Destroyer’s himself. He only offers you a sly look.

“My liege.” This time you growl the title past grit denta, bucking your hips against your Master’s still servo. He hums, your anger meaning nothing to him, though indulging you by brushing two digits along the transfluid-soaked mesh of your valve. You gasp, optics blowing wide as he pushes them in, mindful of his sharp claws, stretching you wonderfully.

There’s a slight burn at first, pain sensors sending alerts, alleviated as your frame adjusts to accommodate his thick talons. Megatron eases his digits back until they are almost out completely, then sinks them back in. Your knees come up, peds shaking as you hook them behind his back struts.

“Patience, my dear,” Megatron kisses your neck cables, “Is a virtue.”

And like he had your anterior node, he works your valve slowly, steadily building the charge that buzzes all the pleasure centers in your frame. Warnings for an overload screen your vision again, this time your optics flicker as it grows closer. Staccato vents escape your intake, fans skipping cycles and hitching, encouraging Megatron to go faster, digits plunging in and out of your valve with sopping, moist noises. The room smells like interface; the tinny tang of transfluid, the almost-burnt smell of metal-on-metal friction.

You moan, this time a long keen that crackles in your audials, and Megatron responds with the first pleasured sound you’ve heard from him: A low, throaty groan that he practically strangles in his intake like he doesn’t want it to escape.

“M-My liege, plea-please.” You whine, writhing, bucking your hips even as Megatron’s servo relinquishes your wings in order to still them. You sob, systems on the fritz as the charge crackles, your overload closing in due to Megatron’s working servo and digits. He laughs again, the breathy one that you adore, and surprisingly heeds your plea.

“I want you like this when you take my spike.” Megatron hisses, doubling his pace and making you scream. The wet squelch of your mesh grows louder, and with each thrust of his servo, his knuckle joint brushes your throbbing anterior node, whiting out your optics.

“I want you disheveled.” The tyrant presses close to you, tightening the cyclic thrusts of his digits, biting at the base of your neck cables. Your helm lolls to the side, voice crackling in constant whines as you squeeze your optics shut. He growls, sharp denta piercing an Energon line close to your shoulder armor, the pain mixing with pleasure and having you singing.

“I want you desperate.” Megatron snarls like an Earthen beast, the gruffness of his voice matching the hot stretch of your valve. Transfluid soaks the inner seams and mechanisms of your thighs, spilling onto your berth below. Megatron drags his dermas to yours, his glossa hot and heady as he shoves it in your mouth and dominates the kiss. You moan against him, gripping him tight and hearing the sound of metal screech as its torn.

The silver mech groans, low and rough, breaking the kiss and allowing his helm to fall besides yours. To the cables and wires of your neck, he leaves open-mouth kisses, condensation hot from his vents, then pulls himself up to your audials and whispers harshly:

“I want you as mine.”

The last word is punctuated by a hard push of his digits and his thumb squashing your anterior node, and your overload hits you like a system crash. You wail, wings fluttering and hitting the berth with metallic clangs as your body seizes, the charge overtaking your processors. Pleasure like molten lava consumes your frame, transfluid squirting out onto Megatron’s forearm like paint.

The overload lasts eons, like some supernova of a dying star. Your legs lock, armor plating shivering, wings hitched high and scraping against your berth. Maybe this is what death is, you think illogically, Maybe I’ve joined with the Allspark.

“Beautiful.” Megatron breathes again, his optics glowing in awe, “Positively beautiful.”

It takes a click for your processor to compute what he said, then another for your optics to blink back on. Coolant tears leak out the corners, blurring your vision. Your mouth gapes, dermas damp with condensation, your cooling fans whirring in loud in your audials. The grip you have on Megatron loosens, servos slipping until they fall upon his shoulders.

The charge in your valve mesh and anterior node quivers and bounces, and you realize with a pleasant tremble that Megatron’s digits are still firmly inside you.

“Megatron.” You coo his name, “Megatron.”

He says yours back, like all you’ve done and are doing is exchanging designations in a routine meeting and it reminds you of a time when things were simpler between the two of you. It’s been eons since Megatron’s seen you the way his ruby red optics gaze upon you now, eons more since you’ve felt seen.

War has made you both volatile, too tough and too angry to do anything else but fight, and fight some more. But here, in the privacy of your berth, blanketed by the secrecy of darkness: War can’t touch you. Nothing can.

“How I have yearned for you...” Megatron cups your faceplates, his servo cool against your overheated frame. You smile, still hazy from your overload and the lingering sensation of his other servo very much connected carnally to you, feeling like you’ve overdone yourself on too much high grade.

A switch flips inside you, the one that reminds you’re no fainting femme, but one that asks and will take regardless. You are a Seeker, after all— It’s in your code to want offspring.

“Give me a sparkling, my Lord.” Even though your voice wavers, it still sounds like an immutable command. The contemplative look on Megatron’s face morphs into the devilish one, and he snarls, removing his digits from your core. A thin line of gooey transfluid stretches between you and his servo, until Megatron brings it to his mouth and his glossa licks along the length of his digits. His optics narrow in as he hums.

“You presume you can command me.” And yet he obeys again, his interface panel unlatching with a hiss. His spike emerges, a long, thick one that fills in sections, ribbed along its length. Glowing transfluid oozes in droplets from its tip, rolling down the underside of his spike. Your jaw drops, both in want and slight alarm— Megatron is a large mech, you should have better anticipated a large spike.

“Know this, dearest: I will take you, ruin you, fill you up until my code takes.” Megatron promises, lining his bobbing spike up with your throbbing valve. He then grabs your hips, propping them up for a better angle. You quiver, writhing on your berth and bracing your servos on his forearms. His armor is hot under your touch, and your claws dig into the smooth of his paint. Then you match his stare, licking your dermas.

“Frag me like you mean it.”

Megatron suddenly thrusts his spike into you and you wail, unforgiving of your smaller stature. The delicate mesh and sensitive wires give and mold around the hot rod of his pulsing length, forming a slick suction around your lover. He groans, easing back then thrusting in with earnest. Your thighs tremble as you take him, each rimmed circlet of his spike passing into you, dragging deliciously on your valve’s walls.

It’s a tight fight, even with being loosened by Megatron’s thick digits. The transformation seams on your hips and thighs stretch, soft whirs and clicks as your frame adjusts to take him. He’s the biggest you’ve ever had, and the strongest too. The power in his hips drives you up the berth, and he pulls you back down.

You can’t meet his thrusts, but you try and buck your hips in time with him, erratic at first. Megatron’s servos are locked on you, guiding you when your movements skip or miss. All the pleasure centers in your frame are alight, charges sparking and fritzing along your circuitry. Another overload builds, a hot, deep bubbling in your core.

With each thrust of his spike, your valve squelches, the mesh slick and hot with transfluid. More drips down your legs, your aft, onto the berth, leaving everything tacky. Megatron hits a particularly sensitive node deep inside you, one you didn’t even know was there, and you keen. Coolant tears prick at your vision again, escaping the corners and rolling off your faceplates.

“How badly do you want it?” Megatron seethes, and you could mistake his lust for anger. He seizes your neck cables, dangerous talons threatening Energon lines, as he demands, “How badly do you want me?”

“Desperately.” You wheeze, optics whiting out as Megatron squeezes your neck cables just so as he gives you a series of particularly rough thrusts. Your peds tighten on his back, urging him deeper. Your Master vents, harsh and hot, his engine rumbling loud in his chassis.

“You will look...” Megatron chokes on a groan,”... Excellent with a trine at your hip.”

That makes you whine, Seeker coding squealing and preening at the thought. A trine. Three little sparklings just like their carrier. You’d delight in carrying them in your gestation chamber, wanting to see yourself change and swell to accommodate them.

“I want... I want,” Your voice cuts out, broken by a sob, and you can only manage a tight, “I want that!”

“Good.” Megatron pistons his hips like a jackhammer, his rhythm not breaking once. Powerful thrusts meet the wet heat of your core, the tops of his thigh armor clanking loudly against your legs. The overload warnings start appearing once again. Megatron hisses when your valve tightens around his length, and it prompts him to pick up the pace.

“You are so pretty.” He growls, leaning in to recapture your dermas with his. As he kisses, he doubles his speed and the strength behind it. You moan and sob into his mouth, servos gripping him by the back of the helm. His glossa battles with yours, his sharp denta nicking you more than once. Then he switches to kissing you deeply, soulfully, like he’s found salvation in your dermas.

It’s as you’re so viscerally connected to Megatron that the heat in your core reaches a boiling point, the slow-building electricity coming to its peak. Your valve walls spasm, the giving mesh convulsing in the telltale sign of your overload on the horizon.

Somehow accomplishing it, Megatron kisses you deeper, his faceplates flush and hot against yours. A particularly hard grind of his spike on the sensitive nodes of your valve has you gasping into the silver mech’s mouth. Your optics squeeze shut, you feel like your core is about to explode with heat—

Your second overload hits, just as spectacular and wonderful as the first. Electrified charges bounce between the mesh of your valve and Megatron’s throbbing spike, transfluid soaking him and yourself once again. It’s only after your audials tingle that you realize you’ve screamed loudly enough to reset them. Your systems crash, processors overheated and cooling fans hitching and trembling. With a hiss and a long grunt, Megatron follows you over the edge as well.

Warmth blooms in your core, pleasure nodes and receptors picking up the hot liquid feel of Megatron’s transfluid deep inside you. It comes out in spurts, and he rides his overload by continuing to push into you. As your optics come back online, you catch him hunching over you, ceasing his thrusts in favor of pressing as close as he can, spike still weeping transfluid and coating your inside walls.

Megatron hisses and groans, his frame shivering just once as he finishes, lazily bucking his hips thrice to empty himself completely. He doesn’t disengage his spike, leaving it to soften in your overworked valve. You can’t feel your peds, not after the overload you just experienced, and your entire frame shudders when he nips at your neck cables once again.

For a while, he hovers above you, his EM field embracing your frame. Softly, your servos caress his upper back struts, the tips of your digits dancing along his seams. His servos finally release your hips, revealing he’s left shallow dents in your armor. No matter, you’d wear them proudly.

“Do you have fiber cloths in your refresher?” Megatron asks, breaking the comfortable silence, his vocal processor crackling only slightly. A twitch of the helm is the best “Yes” you can offer, and brutally Megatron parts from you, drawing a soft whimper as his spike and warmth leave you. The thought of sliding your interface panel back on crosses your mind, but your anterior node and valve are still throbbing so tenderly you can’t will yourself to do it.

You hadn’t realized you closed your optics until Megatron’s approaching pedsteps makes you open them again. He stands before your sprawled, ruined frame, a sheer fiber cloth in his servo, reaching to clean you. Silently, he wipes up the glowing transfluid that’s stained your berth, then moves to clean what’s left on your body.

For a long few moments, the sounds of your cooling fans cycling down, wings softly scraping on your berth, and Megatron’s movements fill your habsuite. At some point, you hear the distinct click of Megatron’s interface panel closing and you tilt your helm up to see him putting his spike away. Also distinctly, the slight burn of soreness as Megatron wipes your exposed valve of excess transfluid.

You’d need to wash regardless, but it’s the thought that counts.

“That was...” And you have no words. Your voice sounds distant and far away, like you’re listening to yourself whisper from miles away. Megatron hums to fill your silence, then you hear the muffled sound of the cloth being discarded somewhere in your room.

“May I join you for the night?” Your Lord’s question is far more polite than it needs to be, considering the circumstances, but it’s

“Of course.” Your answer is quick and sure, marked by the tremendous effort you put in to roll onto your side, even though you still can’t quite feel your legs. You watch Megatron around your berth and sit at your side. He stretches, silver armor plates shifting and whirring back into place, the length of his back struts revealing his hidden Energon lines.

Then he swings his peds up and lays beside you like it’s the most normal action he’s ever done. Though you do have to scoot over until your wings stick out past the edge.

“I would like for this to be a repeated venture,” Megatron teases after he settles himself, “And if you will accept, for this to be continued past a successful newspark creation.”

He glances at you out the corner of his optic, its glow dimmed. You smile.

He’s never been one for grand romantic gestures, never one to speak about softer, kinder things like “love” or “sparkbonding”. It’s unbecoming of him, the Leader of the Decepticons, former gladiator of Kaon, dark Lord and powerful Master. You don’t know if he’d ever pose the actual question, or if it will remain as nebulous, vague riddles and coded phrases for you to decipher and analyze. It isn’t in Lord Megatron’s making to be tender— At least not in the explicit regards.

“I want nothing less for the sire of my offspring.” You reply, your frame curling around the curve of his chassis, servo finding the same spot it always had: Right above his insignia, above his spark. His engine rumbles evenly, the steady drumming could bring you to power down, though you’re kept awake by the pleasant ache between your legs, the chill of the Nemesis, and the pride in bearing your Lord an heir.

~ * ~ * ~

epilogue

Your berth is too small, much too small, for two Cybertronians attempting to recharge upon it. Megatron keeps an arm wrapped under and around you to prevent you from falling off, your frame halfway atop his. One of your servos rests under your helm, the other lazily traces invisible shapes on his broad chassis. Both of your EM fields mingle, the waves pulsing to each other in rhythm.

Earthen hours have passed since your coupling, and though you’re tired, you find yourself unable to slip into recharge.

“My Lord?” You catch his attention, Megatron optics flickering back as he pulls himself from the onset of recharge. Part of you regrets keeping him awake— Primus only knows how many sleepless nights your leader subjects himself to— and the other part of you quietly marvels at how he was nearly dozing in your arms. What show of trust is as great as that?

“If I am to carry, this means the Decepticon cause loses one of its strongest warriors—” You sigh happily as the warlord shifts so that his servo rubs your wings, tenderly caressing sensitive transformation seams and Energon lines. What more you wanted to say dies on your glossa, too caught up in the tender display of affection your Lord gives you.

“A temporary hindrance.” Megatron rumbles, shuttering his optics once again and stating, “The Decepticons will prevail.”

It falls quiet, fully so for a handful of clicks until you pipe up again.

“... And, we will need protoforms. And transitionary metals and alloys. And start the process of distilling Energon into low-grade, sparkling-safe—”

Megatron silences you with a deep kiss, one that has you purring in delight and cupping his faceplates. He lingers on your dermas for a few beats, his EM field heavy and warm on yours, lulling you closer to recharge. Megatron parts, settling down on his back struts, his frame creaking and hissing air as he relaxes. Then he sighs:

“We will discuss technicalities in the morning.”

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp megatron #megatron #megatron x reader #megatron x you #megatron x femme #megatron x cybertronian reader #cybertronian reader #femme reader

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coryosbaby · 2 years

Note

I’m being bold not being anonymous.. But I could kill for some sub , knife kink Ethan..🫣 Just imagine

PHEWW (if the topics in the warning make you uncomfortable I’ll be happy to write another one <3)

Warning: knifeplay, blood kink, mentions of cutting into skin ig, smell kink, oral (m recieving), edging, cock rings, pain kink, mommy kink, sub! Ethan, hard dom!Reader

Ethan’s hands are wrapped around your thighs as he leans back against your chest <3 he’s huffing, breath heavy, as you drag a knife down his pretty chest.

“Just be still, sweet boy.” You whisper into his curly hair. The blade moves up and scrapes over his left nipple. He whimpers, erection standing up against his stomach; a cock ring rests around his thick length, and he’s swollen and red. He’s completely nude, while you sit in a black lingerie set. Ethan’s nostrils fill with your delicious vanilla perfume, and the smell makes the boy feel euphoric. Your other hand goes to massage his balls, and he thrusts his hips into the air at the contact. You slap them harshly, making him cry out and shove his face into your neck.

“What did I say?” You scold.

“‘M sorry, momma. Jus’ feels so good.” He cries, and you scoff.

“I don’t care. You listen to what I say, brat. Or you get nothing.”

Ethan nods, pretty head falling to the side in ecstasy when you bring your palm to the tip of cock. He’s wet, incredibly so, and his juices drips down to the base of his length. The cock ring keeps him from coming too soon, something that he definitely needs to work on. Poor boy always orgasms too early when he’s inside you :(( you know it isn’t his fault, of course; he had only been a virgin when you two had begun to explore each other, and now you’re exceptionally good at pleasing him. You know Ethan’s body like the back of your hand, now; know how to work him up, get him leaking and hard. Ethan thinks you’re a godsend, really. No girl has ever gave him this much attention before, has made him ever feel this way before.

You bring the sharp blade of the knife down to his hardened cock, and he gasps. His face flushed, adrenaline coursing through his veins. If he moves, just an inch, the knife is sure to scratch him.

You move the knife down to his inner thigh and begin to jack him off with fervor. He thrusts his hips harshly, and it makes the knife cut through his skin. Not enough to be serious, but enough to leave a small cut. You giggle, and reach down to run your finger over the wound and lick his blood off your finger.

Hands clutching onto you harder, he lets out a whimper at the burn of it. You bring the knife back to the cut and make it longer, make him bleed more. He begins to cry, wet tears streaming down his face, and then you run your finger through the cut again and bring his own blood up to his lips. He’s so obedient <33 precious boy begins sucking the finger, taking it all the way to the back of his throat, moaning at the metallic taste on his soft tongue.

“That’s my boy. I’m gonna move, okay? Gonna suck that pretty little cock angel.”

He nods, puppy eyes shining, as you move out from under him. He sits up on his elbows, and watches as you crawl to his dick. You take the soft blushy tip into your warm awaiting mouth and he grabs ahold of your hair. You instantly lift yourself up and slap the cut on his thigh, making him hiss in pain and whine.

“No touching. Hands over your head. Now.”

“Y-Yes momma. I’m so sorry.” He nervously stutters. His hands instantly go over his head, interlocked. You grin at his tone of voice. He’s such a scared boy, all the time.

Your scared boy. Only for you.

You go back down to his cock, and kitten lick his tip. He tastes so good, the best guy you’ve ever tasted in your life, and it makes your panties drench even more with your wetness. You take his whole length into your mouth and begin to bob your head. You can feel him shaking, and you know he wants so badly to touch. But it’s not going to happen.

Your begin mouthing over his balls, leaving small kisses, scraping your teeth over them. Ethan gasps out, hips bucking, and his cock bobs. He’s trying so hard to cum, but because of the cock ring, he can’t.

“Momma, please take it off…it hurts.” he says. He’s looking down at you, his doe eyes pleading, lip caught between teeth. You know this is his way of trying to trick you, of trying to seduce you into giving him what he wants. You just chuckle. You take the knife up to his thigh, beginning to cut more, and he mewls.

“Nice try, baby.” He watches, mouth agape and aching cock starting to turn a light shade of purple, as you begin to carve your name into him. “But it’s going to be a long night.”

#Ethan landry #Ethan landry x reader #Ethan landry x fem! reader #sub! Ethan landry x reader #Ethan landry smut #sub! Ethan landry #dom! reader #scream 6 #scream

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 1 year

Text

Hitachiin Twins - "Devil Twins' Property!"

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•

For: @jaythes1mp

I hope this is okay for how long the wait was. I apologize for that, my drafts are so backed up it's ridiculous. —Benny 🐰

🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾

When Kaoru had jokingly brought up the Idea of purchasing a decorative collar for the host club's Gentle Type, Hikaru had already dialed up their mother before his twin could even finish his sentence

Their mother had immediately jumped on the project, as it was a request from her precious sons, and finished it within a few days. The two ginger-headed boys then sent it to [Name]'s residence.

And when the next day rolled around...

They didn't think that [Name], meek and soft-spoken as they were, would be so bold and wear the collar to school the next day.

The entirety of the school day, not once had [Name] taken it off. Not even during club activities.

. . .

The two had quickly made their way to the h/c-ette's station, not caring at the moment if their guests needed tending to or not, and leaned over the sofa on either side of them.

[Name] looked up and smiled softly at them.

"Hikaru. Kaoru. Thank you for the gift, I appreciate that you both thought of me." They said gently.

They both were taken aback. Not even a bit of embarrassment could be seen on the Gentle Type's being. [Name] was genuinely grateful for the collar that he was wearing so proudly.

The h/c-ette fiddled with the metal tag, making sure to flip it over to display the word 'Hitachiin's' that was engraved into it in a lovely cursive. It was as if they were flaunting it to their guests without even realizing it.

Kaoru's cheeks flush a light pink at the display, while Hikaru takes on the same hue with a smirk coming to his lips.

"You know, if you wanted us to claim you so bad, you could've asked us instead of this little show you're putting on, [Name]." He purred into the e/c-eyed teen's ear as he took their chin between his fingers.

"Not that the sight is unwelcome; I like this bold side you've been showing off today. Where's that been, hm?" Kaoru adds in, brushing [Name]'s cheek gently with his index and middle finger.

The h/c-ette smiles widely as they grab each of their hands and smiles up at them, intertwining fingers with theirs.

"I'm not showing off... it just reminded me of you both and both of you make me feel safe." They chirp, giving them a lovely close-eyed smile.

"..." For once, Hikaru and Kaoru were the ones left speechless.

🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾•♡•🐾

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

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peterman-spideyparker · 1 year

Text

Corduroy (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: This is just a cute little something that I wrote on my phone one afternoon and just forgot to move over to my laptop. Enjoy! :)

Summary: You’re married to the love of your life, doing what you love, living a life that you never could have imagined. There’s so many reasons to be happy, but there’s a new one that will expand both yours and Matt’s world forever.

Warning: Fluff, like, so much domestic fluff, a dash of angst (Matt gets a bit grumpy and pouty), pregnancy announcement and mentioned of false positives, a little swearing, allusions to sex

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 1,026

“Hey!” Matt smiles brightly as you meet him on the sidewalk, coming from the opposite side of the street.

“Hey, hon,” you smile softly, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“I know. It’s like we live together or something.”

You laugh and kiss him once more, sliding his hand in yours, the warmth of his skin making your hand tingly, your heart never failing to skip a beat whenever you feel the precious metal of his wedding band brush against your skin.

“Ooh, you like me,” he teases as you walk up the stairs to the loft, pressing a kiss into your cheek.

“Of course I like you, I married you, you dork,” you smirk, lightly elbowing him.

“You wanna kiss me,” he hums, kissing you as you hit the top landing of the stairs.

“What is up with you, Murdock?” you giggle in between kisses.

“Nothing!”

“Such a bold faced liar, you are.”

“Fine!” he chuckles, lips attaching to your neck as you unlock the door. “I might have been able to get us reservations to a very fancy restaurant.”

“Like I need to shave my legs fancy?”

“Yeah, that fancy.”

“Damn, Murdock.”

“Perfect for a night of wining—.” He kisses the sweet spot on the side of your neck. “—dining—.” He mimics the motion on the other side. “—and sixty-ni—.”

“Matt!” you giggle as he brings his lips to yours, dipping you in the apartment as he kisses you. “Seriously, what has gotten into you?”

“Angel, come on!” he chuckles, but his face quickly falls when he realizes you don’t know what has him so elated. “You forgot?”

“Matt, I—.”

“It’s okay.” The look on his face tells you that it’s very much not okay.

“Please, Matty, don’t look at me like that. I’m sorry.”

He kisses your forehead. “It doesn’t matter. We can still have a good night. It’s okay.”

You follow him into the bedroom, feeling like you’re on the verge of tears. You forgot something that was important to him—the man that always puts others first, cares about what’s important to you, and you forgot something that clearly meant a hell of a lot to him.

“You have the right to be upset with me,” you say softly, putting your bag down by the bed and sitting on the mattress. “You don’t need to act like it doesn’t bother you.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes it is. I made you sad.” You lean over the side of the bed and pick up a wrapped gift from your work back. “Sorry?”

“You got me a gift?”

“Yeah. I was gonna give it to you anyways, but, now it kinda serves as an apology gift too.”

Matt takes a seat next to you and leans in and kisses you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Finding the seams, he tears the gift open, running his fingers across the the bumps in the cover, opening the book and repeating the process.

“It’s Corduroy,” Matt says, confused. “I . . . I’m stumped on this one, angel.”

“Well, you said that your gram and dad would read it to you when you were little. You loved it. I was hoping maybe you could keep the tradition alive with our baby.”

Matt is silent for a second, the confusion evident and your words having to push him through it. The book falls out of Matt’s hands when it clicks and he lurches over toward you and wraps you in a tight hug.

“When—?”

“The dentist this morning was the gynecologist,” you clarify as you hug him in delight and relief. “I needed to hear it from them before I said anything, Matty. I’ve had so many false positives and have been so close to telling you when it wasn’t true, and—.”

“Oh my God,” he cries into your neck, his hand holding the back of your head, scrunching your hair as he holds you tight. “Oh my God.”

Matt doesn’t let go for a long time, using you as his anchor as he’s filled with nothing but excitement. When he finally pulls away, his eyes are red from crying, tears staining his cheeks, and more in his eyes yet to fall.

“You’re pregnant,” he says so quietly, as if speaking the sentence into existence will make it untrue.

“Super pregnant,” you sniffle as you wipe away his tears.

“H-How far along?”

“They think just about eight weeks, give or take.”

Matt sniffles as he laughs, wiping away a tear with the heel of his hand as he tilts his head down toward your stomach.

“Hi baby,” he whispers as he gently swipes a hand over your stomach. He rests his palm there, gentle but firm, before he lifts his head up to you and kisses you again.

“I’m sorry I spaced on today,” you whisper as you continue to push tears off of his cheek. “I just—.”

“Hey, don’t,” he breathes, pressing kisses into the palms of your hands. “This . . . This is so much better.”

“Can I ask what today was?” you try quietly.

“It’s the anniversary of our first date,” he explains softly. “I knew by the end of the night I wanted to marry you.”

You run your fingers through his fluffy hair and kiss his forehead. “Babe, that’s tomorrow. We had our first date after Professor Aleena’s final. It’s the passcode on my phone.”

“I know it was after Aleena’s final. The 18th.”

“Mmhm, it was. Today is the 17th.” You lean forward and kiss him tenderly, preventing him from responding. “But now we get to celebrate tonight for a whole different reason.”

“That we do. Only this time, I’m drinking for two, and you’re eating for two.”

He smiles from ear to ear as you rest your forehead on his. “Yes we are.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione @catnip987

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil x fem!reader fluff #daredevil netflix #daredevil disney+

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marknee · 1 year

Text

bts fanfics i think shakespeare would plagiarise the absolute shit out of.

chapter iii. ✷ chapter v.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — the bastard needs to find better hiding places to ‘secretly’ plagiarise. the tavern, really?

( ♬ ) — notes were found in the trunk by the foot of his bed. not the sharpest quill in the pot, i’ll say.

( ✎ ) — word on the street is he’s been arranging a performance at the globe theatre next week.

( ♛ ) — why is this play being taught as part of the british exam curriculum? he didn’t even write it!

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: dear readers, welcome to phase two. did you miss me? it’s been a long time coming, i assure you, so i’m glad to finally get the ball rolling on the next few chapters of incredible stories. my quill has been neatly sharpened, so are you ready?

⠀

( ♬ ) KEYNOTE — by @missgeniality

!! hoseok x reader | 18.5k !!

strangers to lovers, non-idol!au, smut, slight fluff.

dear reader, after some time away having finished phase one of this series, i happened to unwillingly stumble across some newfound knowledge of shakespeare, which enlightened all that i knew of. unbeknownst to me, shakespeare did write about sexual endeavours within his plays. exhibit a: “but i might see cupid’s fiery shaft, quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon.” a midsummer night’s dream, act iii, scene i.

but, did shakespeare write: “a gruelling war between your self-respect and lascivious yearning, a war waged for way too long - the fact that you're even thinking about it, your self-respect has to give in to your desires.” indeed not.

effectively, this story doesn’t grant you time to settle in. if anything, you have all but one option when diving in to the sharks: to surrender, allowing yourself to be thrown into the deep end - to a dark predator, who from that moment, sits at the table he’s created within your mind, body and soul, and feasts on every last ounce of sanity you thought existed.

truthfully, what could say it better than: “metal could melt under his scrutiny — you’re nothing but a mere mortal.”

⠀

( ♛ ) ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR — by @faryn_rose (ao3)

!! seokjin x reader, jungkook x reader | 48.4k !!

historical!au, violence, drama & romance.

“no, you decided. monsters did not spare people's feelings.”

there are those who fall under the supposition of being an iron fist in a velvet glove, and there are those who persist it. if anything, i argue a third exist: those who prove themselves neither.

throughout this story, it appeared two emotions were consistent in their approach of lurking within its entirety - heartbreak and betrayal. after all, people find themselves doing wild things in the name of love. in the battle between two men, both equal in their share of time on the battlefield, to win the precious heart of the reader, it provokes the question: who do you choose? the proud general willing to die for you, or the gentle chief who vows to keep you safe? certainly a tough choice.

the title is seemingly a perfect choice for this exhilarating fifty-thousand-word story. for the loser is left wondering whether the fight was worth the struggle.

not mentioning the loss of pride knowing their attempts were, in fact, faulty.

but, as said, all’s fair in love and war.

“he treated me like i mattered, like i had power in this world. and i decided that i couldn’t let someone like that go.”

⠀

( ✎ ) 1999 — by @tattookoo

!! campus royalty!jungkook x reader | 17.9k !!

90s!au, college au, hockey!au, fake dating, smut.

“kook, it’s really not hard to pretend to be into you. you’re very easy to love.”

with an unruly raven-haired rake with devastating dimples as the love interest, i am fully subscribed to the belief this utterance lies true. if anything, you’d be a fool to not swoon over this dashing playboy of the 90s.

this story hones into the idea of fake dating for the sake of rebuilding a reputation. but, as it seems, nobody’s fate truly rests in their own hands.

as we know - or will come to in time - a real relationship requires more of something that a fake perhaps less so: vulnerability. true, it carries the burden, yet it leaves space for commitment to linger, though as a visitor, and not as a resident. it seems commitment is what transforms a promise into reality.

the author does an incredible job of bringing every aspect of being exposed to the susceptibility of love, and that is what earned itself a place in my series.

yet, why is it we continue to delve into stories like these? well, for the greatest adventure we humans can ever go on: to run the risk of rejection, and to be completely okay with it.

⠀

( ♛ ) HOOKED — by @joopiterjoon (ao3)

!! namjoon x reader | 102k !!

friends with benefits, smut, angst, 18+.

typically, when tornado warnings siren, it’s our cue to turn tail and flee. so when tornado warnings siren within people, why is it we do not take initiative until the damage is done? even worse, what if they siren within ourselves? as we know, we cannot run from ourselves.

“i need to work on me with me." while this quote may appear ordinary, i fear its the most impactful, and arguably the most important, piece of dialogue in this story - the understanding that the only person who is going to fix you, is yourself. a tough pill to swallow - especially if you were shattered against your will - but one we must digest eventually.

shakespeare wouldn’t have a clue, regarding all his characters are broken beyond belief - and that, in most cases, ends up being their demise.

alternately, this story leaves you with two ending options. i shan’t tell you which is best, dear reader, as that choice belongs to you. but, a simple thing i like to remember:

“love is loss.”

⠀

( ♛ ) HEARTBURN — by @jiminrings

!! jimin x reader | 41.7k !!

heavy angst, emotional infidelity, more angst.

“the ones we love have the power to inflict the greatest scars, for what thing is more fragile than the human heart.” i can’t remember for the life of me who said this, but dear lord, does it just hit the mark for this story.

to cheat is to lack integrity. which jimin palpably inherits. but, it seems in order to acquire agency, sometimes bad things have to be someone’s fault.

throughout this tripartite story, you witness the growth of each individual character - and perhaps the loss of parts, too. each has their depths, their faults, their beauty. nobody is left dry, and it truly brings the story together in a way that connects so well.

“guard your heart, y/n. let it be yours before you share it again.” i ask you, author, what provoked you to write such heart-rending words? and i ask you, dear readers, to bathe in the words i say next: your heart is yours before it is anybody else’s.

this story is not just about the destruction of a great trust, but about a birth of trust within yourself and what it means to wholeheartedly put yourself first - especially in desperate times when nobody else will do it for you.

⠀

( ♬ ) TOLERATE IT — by @archivedkookie (ongoing)

!! taehyung x reader | 6k !!

heavy angst, one-sided love, forced marriage, smut.

“the worst way to love somebody’s to watch them love somebody else and it work out.” body better, maisie peters.

unrequited love is a killer. a crushing, sinking pain when your heart reaches the depths of your stomach, and it’s more common experience than one might think - especially between you and i.

whilst this story is still ongoing, i know i’m about to be completely swept off my feet. especially with leading quotes such as: “because before all this happened, you were his friend.”

this story feels familiar - the words familiar too. simply because i assure we’ve all been the the exact boat - the one floating upon stormy seas of rejection. we understand the readers pain, we sympathise with it, and we connect to it.

“not your love to be tolerated when you know you should be celebrated.”

we’re fools of love, that’s all we are. there’s no magic or defiance behind it.

and in the words of the perks of being a wallflower: “we accept the love we think we deserve.”

⠀

( ✎ ) LEVEL OF RESTRAINT — by @lemonjoonah

!! jimin x namjoon x reader x taehyung | 13k !!

office!au, bdsm!au, 18+, thriller, smut.

“any position beneath you would suit me nicely.” why don’t you shut the fuck up?

now, tell me, at what point does one cross the thin line between obsession and possession? what are the defining factors, and when down that very same faded line, does one reach a great epiphany they’ve reached a place of no return? does ‘love’ not beg for sacrifice? does it?

setting the scene, with characters like these, it’s hard to not risk the fall of betrayal from the thrust of arguably non-consensual sexual situations, but i’ll let you be the judge of that. effectively, this story is one you have to experience for yourself, dear reader, in order to understand. there is only so much i can tell you- reveal, express, without running my mouth and ruining the whole plot line.

though, i shall leave you with one piece of advice. a thought for you to ponder on: pay attention.

and talk about jimin and namjoon being sex on legs all you want, but there is no denial this story has a deeper, more sinister verona.

lady macbeth said it herself: “look like th' innocent flower, / but be the serpent under't.”

⠀

( ♬ ) WANT A TASTE? — by @suga-kookiemonster

!! yoongi x reader | 18.3k !!

friends to lovers, humour, shopping mall!au, smut.

"who are you, yoongi? what is your truth?” if there is something i can respect, should it be this line.

i believe there is a rich beauty in the small, gentle exchanges between strangers, to which ripen, transforming into the most special of connections between friends - and before long, between lovers. it’s a slow and steady process i’m sure, but i find those types of love are the most worthwhile.

patience is, of course, dear reader, a virtue.

in my humble opinion, this story does nothing but breathe fun from its very core, encapsulating the sweet essence of excitement - of belonging - and burrowing itself around you like a warm blanket. that’s the sheer power of a writer - to familiarise the strange and mystify the familiar.

tell, aren’t you intrigued?

“all the time you've spent with him has already alerted you to the fact that his hard persona is all a front.”

took you long enough.

⠀

( ♛ ) THE WEDDING ARRANGEMENT — by @sugaurora (ao3)

!! namjoon x black!reader | 44.2k !!

enemies with benefits to lovers, smut, romance.

“and maybe that's because it wasn't the kind of love you always expected, but something different that you hadn't fully let yourself accept.” if this were any other topic of matter, i would let wit take its course. however, as it is not, i am inept from doing so - rather i shall let your own imagination prove itself dominant, dear reader.

effectively, if there is anything this story has mastered, it’s the realisation that assumptions can erode any relationship, and inevitably are a fate we, the human race, continue to face and to fight.

“strangely, the first thing you thought of was home.” while i presume i join the line of overdue attendants to stumble across this indescribable romance, to say its definitely left its mark - perchance, more.

if you seek a delicious story to sink your teeth into, let this take the cake. besides, the story isn’t the only appetising option on the menu.

“you're a walking erotic novel cover, namjoon.”

⠀

( ✮ ) FINAL SLEIGH — by @floralseokjin

!! seokjin x reader | 23.3k !!

office!au, rivals/enemies to lovers, smut.

in order to reach the beautiful rose nestled within its bush, you must first combat the prickly thorns to which ensure its survival by the name of protection. mind you, shakespeare never said that - i did. my quill is just as sharp it’s practically lethal.

the art of protection within humans, i say, is much different. it jumps out in strange forms, but each is just as valid as the other. which is what indefinitely makes this trope all the more interesting - especially in this story.

“feelings was a scary word, an uncertain word, but you thought you liked the way it made you feel.” arguably, if a pair are able to surmount this indescribable nine letter word, possibly even sit with the idea, then perhaps their journey marks itself a success. and that to me, is worth fighting for.

this story is a perfect mix between comedy and actuality, plenishing us of pure enjoyment while hooking us round the legs in the name of desire disguised. a perfect mask, indeed.

we’re all playing with fire. but if you don’t take that foolish risk, how’d you know you’d burn?

⠀

( ✮ ) SIT. STAY. — by @daechwitatamic

!! seokjin x reader | 14k !!

neighbours!au, dog parent!au, smut.

“if you love somebody, let them go.” not to delve too deep into things, but baring in mind society’s self-destructive addiction to faster living, it poses the question whether “stay” within this context carries a much heavier weight than intended. asking someone to stick by you in a world which thrives on the act of haste, is a form of intimacy one may not throughly tread.

but understand this, dear readers, i do not miss anything.

the affinity within this story is one to point out. it’s so raw and genuine that it feels uncomfortably natural - to the point that freshly reading this felt like returning to an old friend your soul grew attached to in a past life, glad - and almost grateful - to encounter them once more.

“would you be better off telling him later, when things are settled, when you can tie up the story nice and neat?” oh, how you wound me. just so, the new in a relationship is a hard course to navigate, especially when it comes to our deepest shadows - perhaps it would be easier to stick a decorative bow over the cracks.

but then again, how else would light get in?

⠀

( ♛ ) BLOOM — by @hobidreams

!! florist!namjoon x assassin!reader | 20.7k !!

smut, action, angst, opposites attract.

in the nature of life, it is normal for us to resist death. but in the nature of the world, in the end, death overwhelms life. but ‘tis not death itself we find ourselves afraid of, rather the possibility of it. “like how a child fears what might lay beyond a closet door, beneath a four-frame bed.”

even i fed the dark, hungry demon of that spiralling thought once.

within this captivating story, the two main characters of life and death coexist beside each other. neither try to dominate and drain the power of the other. they simply rest, side by side, together. while joon grows life through his plants, the reader strips that of what is so. to each to their own. the birth, and the destruction.

but, dear reader, does life beg the existence of death? or simply, is it the other way around? can death suffice without existence? “you can't seem to sleep… without the comfort that there's something growing, thriving in life just a few feet away.” …perhaps.

despite the pair being so different from one another, neither allow that defining characteristic the chance to ruin their dangerous, but very real connection. well… until the last petal falls.

but i shall let you discover that for yourself.

TAGLIST: @screamertannie @bebejungkook @taleasnewastime

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evilminji · 9 months

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I'ma be bold! Marvel Time!

Wakanda has Vibranium. An impossible mineral that does not see like it could form naturally, right? Or there would be far more in the wider universe then just the few bits we see.

You know what ELSE is impossibly rare, minerals wise?

Ectoranium. The disasteroid. And! From Wakandan oral history? The two seem to have appeared in the EXACT SAME WAY. Out of no where. Through, very possibly, the EXACT SAME rarely opening portal. If? On the other side? There was an asteroid belt of some kind?

It would only take things aligning just right, for one to slip through.

We KNOW materials from the Zone effect the living world in strange ways. Vibranium could very well just be the dead reflection of a mineral from a different, more durable, universe. The Zone is Infinite, so it would mix pretty much EVERYTHING together into a chaotic mess.

So there could be a considerable amount of Vibranium asteroids just hanging around.

But! And more importantly! Getting hit by, then LIVING OVER, a massive fuck off Zone Rock? Would expose Wakandans to generations of Ectoplasm. ESPECIALLY with how Vibranium, by nature, holds a "charge" if you will. It would be a heat lamp of Limnality. Making everyone near it?

Better.

Not superhuman. Not fully Limnal. Because Vibranium HOLDS a charge. That Ectoplasmic energy would be stuck INSIDE the metal. Unable to truely effect anyone who isn't directly touching it. Even then, BARELY seeping into them. But? It WOULD leech, slowly, into everything around it.

The air, the water, the soil.

The PLANTS. That precious, precious, SACRED Herb.

Over time? It would loosen the ties that bind. Those pesky human limitations. Sure, it would say, grow smarter. Stronger. Live longer, better lives. Knees that ache less, backs that do not bend, bones that do not succumb. You're still human! Your DNA no different.

It's just the strength of your SOUL poking through.

Would anyone notice, if it happened slowly? Over enough generations? It's normal. Everyone here is like this. It's not superhuman. Just... HEALTHY, right? A good diet and plenty of exercise? That is what makes our skin clear and eyes sharp, teeth strong and feet sure. Right?

That healthy diet of... what was it again?

Ah yes, Ectoplasmicly charged plants? Sweet fruits and healthy vegetables. Water purged of contamination by the Ectoplasm to devours all but itself? So very crisp! Is it not?

Houses made of materials charged with it. Resting in beds, beneath covers and cloth, woven with it. Walking upon streets paved with it. What in Wakanda is NOT touched by it? In some form? Some way? Gently bathing all who live there in its unseen light?

And, tell me, WHERE do you go again? When you fall? When you join your Panther God? Mmmhmm, pockets within pockets. Lairs and territories. The Zone itself may be green, but a Lair can be what ever it's Master chooses.

But! Why do I bring this up? That the Afterlives are no doubt connected? After all, it's not like the Master's of those Lair's, the Gods that are worshipped, would just... LET people leave. It defeats the purpose of creating an "Afterlife"!

But, again! Consider! The Panther God loves the Wakandan Royal Family. They are loyal worshipers. The Panther Gods responsibility. And? The rather newly dead T'Chaka, former monarch (and thus rather informed of all the major concerns of a nation) of Wakanda, has informed the Panther God that? Gasp!

The Vibranium is, at generations long last, about to run out.

Their people are in danger.

Please! Do something!

The God can not. Buuuut... the "ghost king" of the space between, can. He must go, on a Dangerous And Heroic Soul Pilgrimage(tm) to meet with this mysterious king. Negotiate for his son and people. T'Chaka, a brave and dignified king, will of course face this challenge with all that he is.

It's very Alice in Wonderland. (The poor man.)

But the Black Panther manages to get to the still under construction castle none the less. Lead by a delightful, if mischievous, young girl by the name of "Dani" (with an i). Who reminds him, somewhat painfully, of his daughter Shuri when she was younger.

The King of the Between is a... young man.

Busy putting constellations on the ceiling, he pays them little mind. Until Dani calls out to him. Revealing that exactly like Shuri, she was a princess all along. He can see the resemblance.

He explains his issue, prepared to argue his case for however long he must. Instead he is just met with long soul searching look, a glance to Dani (who appears to vouch for him), and a nod. He is baffled. It... so easily?

People need help, he is informed. That's reason enough. Besides, Dani says you're not a fruitloop. And the young king trusts her judgment.

Let's go get your people some rocks.

(You can imagine, the ABSOLUTE SHIT STORM. Mentally, Emotionally, Politically, when the GHOST of the FORMER KING just? Shows up! Broad daylight! In the royal yard in from of the palace with a GIANT piece of Vibranium and a foreign King of The Dead.

Father... WHY. Don't get T'Challa wrong, he is about to cry he's so happy to see you. But? In PUBLIC, Father? In front of his delicious Wakandan Salad? Stop being so amused you old cat! This isn't FUNNY! Now I have to deal with this! T^T )

@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe

#dp x marvel #dp x mcu #dpxmarvel

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writing-hat · 7 months

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4 AM midnight thoughts on polyninja's ways of kissing and holding each other!! in honor of valentine's day tomorrow (aka the biggest fucking note that was on my app jfc)

ways the ninjas kiss each other:

Kai

jay kisses Kai on the lips! a big smooch! mwah! electrifying

cole kisses the top of his head often, just to mess with his hair

zane kisses his cheeks, sometimes both, or his hand to see him become an absolute mess

Cole

jay kisses him on the cheek with an evil laugh

zane kisses him on the lips, with passion!

kai kisses him on the lips, the cheeks, the neck, the-

Jay

cole kisses him everywhere because he can and it tickles him!!

kai kisses the top of his head! then ruffles his hair

zane kisses his cheek, and and then lips, and then lips again and he ends with the nose!

Zane

cole kissing lips with passion too! and cheek, while holding him (idk why it seems important to add this here but well)

kai kisses the back of his hands in an attempt at flirting, and his cheeks, before going for the lips

jay kisses him on the cheek! lil shy and bold at the same time! then lips mwah!

idk why but zane = lip kisses for me. sue me.

ways they pick up each other:

Jay

zane picks up jay on his arm like like he's sitting on it but zane's very strong so he's like sitting on his arm like a gremlin/bird does this make sense idk

cole piggybackride / koala // or bridal style (looking at that one moment in island season (i think))

kai picks him up like he weights nothing/like a gremlin, but also let's him climb on his shoulders

Zane

jay picks up zane bridal style AHA! showing them muscles!

kai picks up zane by his hips, and then twirl!

cole holds him, before picking him up with a single hand to get him a bit flustered

Kai

jay picks kai up koala style! again, jay just loves to show his muscles to his partner

cole just holds him like he'd hold a precious egg, with kai's head on his shoulder, enjoying being pampered by him

zane would like. twirl him around as they both wear the most magnificent dresses ever. and then he'd hold him up by the back thighs/hips depending on the comfiest pose

Cole

KAI CARRIES HIM ON HIS BACK ZQGHJGZHJZHJRHZJ

jay loves to surprise hug him! and catches him like that! and then kicks the back of his knees to get cole leaning backwards

zane picks cole bridal style. do you see the picture

bonus of vampire cole's way of biting the others (because of course):

he bites kai's wrist. he bites jay's collarbone. he munches on zane's shoulders while kinda falling asleep because the metal feels good to his teeth or something, like baby tooth? idk

jhzgoizrhjkh melting away iam fine I AM FINE LET ME BE

happy pre-valentine

ALSO WE ALL HAVE OUR HEADCANONS AND ALL! SO YOU CAN COMPLETELY DISAGREE, in the reblogs as well!! I'd love to see people's thoughts uOu)

#SCREAMS #i need a fucking break holy hell #hat's words #should i tag the ships?#eh fuck it why not. it's practical when you need to find those back as you write #lavashipping #technoshipping #bruiseshipping #glaciershipping #oppositeshipping #plasmashipping #that's a long list. how much of a hold do they actually have on me?#vampire!cole #<- this one's important. to me.#(the jaya angst fic will be published tomorrow)

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boldpreciousmetals · 1 year

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The South Africa 1 oz Krugerrand gold coin is a world-renowned bullion coin, minted by the South African Mint. It features iconic designs, high gold purity, and a rich history. The Krugerrand is highly sought after by investors and collectors alike.

#goldcoins #krugerrand gold coin #african mint #bold precious metals

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princelylove · 1 month

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What type of yandere would enjoy being financially dominated?

There's some that accidentally engage in some sort of money related play- provider types that are afraid of their darling touching a bill, regular misogynistic types that won't let their feminine darling have a bank account, but what about genuine paypigs?

Some yanderes offer up their wallet freely because it's just a way of showing affection, or they feel like it makes up for what they're putting their darling through. That isn't true financial domination- financial domination isn't here and there, it's not "I'm sorry" gifts like what Ghiaccio gives his darling, it's structured play that can be 'a little' transactional at times. That's what makes it appealing. Yanderes that enjoy providing for their darling... it just doesn't count, as tempted as I am to say that it is if there's excessive gifts, it's a bit of a different topic entirely.

Financial domination has an aspect of humiliation in it that differentiates it from other types of play involving money. With a sugar mama/daddy, there's an expectation of affection or some sort of a relationship, but most paypigs notably lack such an expectation from their partner. Most human ATMs won't receive a "Thank you!" or praise, no matter the amount they send. Of course, individual play varies, and paypiggies are still 'people' that can potentially want that, but it's not inherent to the play. Why did I put people in quotes? No reason.

Many paypigs are aroused by the idea of being used for money. Human ATMs can potentially love the idea of never actually meeting their person of interest in person, although some develop a sort of parasocial relationship with them and get addicted to spending money on them specifically. It's something that has a lot of possibilities, despite seemingly niche.

So what about the traditional idea of a paypig and a findomme?

Vanilla Ice counts. Material gifts are kind of like offerings, aren't they? There's a reason a common pet name for the findomme is 'Goddess.' Vanilla's style of findom is devoting 100% of his income to his darling- what income, exactly? Savings, maybe? It's honestly better to not ask where he keeps finding 24 karat gold pieces to give you.

If you do not love gold, he will swap his offerings to silver- although he doesn't understand why his Goddess, if he may be so bold as to lay such a claim, would prefer such a thing. You're divine, worthy of only the finest precious metals and gemstones, but if that is not what you wish, so be it. He'll find something else to lavish his darling with. Vanilla is ashamed of his darling even considering they have to pay for something, no matter the expense- is he such a failure? Please, punish him.

He holds true to the idea that you should only talk to him when he worships you properly, by giving offerings or monetary donations. It kind of does something for him, honestly. It's like you're settling in, finally assuming your role as his divine... ah, but don't let him prattle on.

Diavolo is a good contender as well. He seems more likely to be a sugar daddy, but because he wants to distance himself from his darling, but he's fine with singlehandedly paying their rent and buying their entire wishlist on anon. That's how he'd prefer it, anyway.

It's not likely his darling will ever know an alias or username of his- if he has to make a username to donate money to his darling, it's utter nonsense. A bunch of numbers, or something that looks like it was generated by a bot, or a default username without a profile picture. It's likely his darling has a fee he'd have to pay to prove his legitimacy, he's proud of them for taking precaution, he definitely looks sketchy and knows it. Would paying twice the amount of the fee prove how serious he is?

Once he's established himself well enough for the transaction to be consensual, he doesn't like to message first, or really, at all. He feels like it's going to be his downfall eventually- but it feels so good whenever he sees his darling ask him for anything. It's all pocket change to him, he won't mind anything from weekly groceries, a round of drinks, student loans, a small toiletry you forgot and need to go back to the store for- it's all nothing if it means he gets to watch his darling be at peace and heavily spoiled. That's how his darling should be living life, they should forget anything difficult and lean into a nice, cushy lifestyle. At his expense.

Although he has his own agenda when it's time to give actual gifts.... shoes that are meant to sit in, jewelry you've never heard the name of and cannot pronounce, bouquets the size of your torso with a (typed) disgustingly sweet note attached, maybe some new clothes he'd like to see you in...

Leone could go for it, but he doesn't intend for him handing his wallet over freely to be taken that way, initially. It's just a way of showing affection- he'll cover whatever bill or honestly anything that needs to be paid so you don't have to, it's supposed to be sweet. He likes being useful, and being relied on, if he has the means, he'll typically go for it.

He reminds me of those paypigs that enjoy following their partner around on a shopping trip and not talking at all, just paying when the time comes. His masochism knows no bounds, a shiver goes down his spine should his darling shush him when he tries to suggest an item or two. He always tries to keep a sort of front up initially- "Yeah, sure, toss it in." turns into "Anything you want." very quickly.

He's got limits, you can't blow all of his savings or go past a certain budget, but if it's within budget, it's fair game. He likes to space it out- smallish treats are more common, but he'll save up to get something disgustingly expensive for his darling every once in a while, as a way to express his love. It's much worse if his darling collects anything- Leone has an addictive personality, the dopamine hit he gets when his darling smiles at him and when he spends money gets him. He's not into hoarding, but he'll put together a shelf or some sort of display for your collection, which he adds to. Frequently. Sometimes he'll come home with some niche item that was only made in the 60s- how did he know you wanted that? Did he know you wanted that? Is he doing this for himself now?

#oh christ the tagging #yandere vanilla ice #yandere vanilla ice x reader #yandere diavolo #yandere diavolo x reader #yandere leone abbacchio #yandere leone abbacchio x reader #yandere findom #yandere finsub #yandere finsub x reader #oh to be heavily spoiled. ♡♡♡♡♡♡

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chigirisprincess · 1 year

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Amour Courtois⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— Chigiri Hyōma

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, gn afab!reader, aged up characters, reader is referred to as "your grace", their title is "heir to the throne", you wear a dressing robe, knight!Chigiri, slight ooc, power imbalance, slight dubcon, slight manipulation of station (reader using their power over Chigiri), kissing, oral (reader receiving), undressing, intimacy, light body worship.

⊹ Run time. 3.8k

⊹ Note. This is incredibly self insert and selfship coded so I am a bit nervous to share but I hope you enjoy nonetheless <3

❝As the heir to the throne it was important to have a devoted knight by your side and Chigiri, your sworn protector, well he was as devoted as they came. Even when your requests were unusual.❞

Your father's words have come to haunt you as you gaze into the set of rosy hued eyes that lay beneath the bruised silver armet– or perhaps taunt you. They’ve hung over your head and plucked at the strings pulled taunt around your joints, tossing you around to his whims. Marionette or heir to the throne, you wondered what the small folk saw when their gaze settled upon you, in those rare times when you were more than just a precious jewelled bared behind cold stone slabs. You didn’t wish to be either. Not now, in his presence or ever really.

“Chigiri Hyōma you are henceforth indebted into the care of my only child, under their care you are expected to serve, protect, and fulfil their every wish or need.”

That is what your father had told him, the day he was assigned your protector, your keeper. He was yours, and in some inexplicable way you were his. A mimic of the real thing to come, you too often thought, with the way you two were tied together. It was a curious thing, this charade. You couldn’t help but push the bounds, to see how honourable a man really could be in the face of temptation.

“Is there something you need, your Grace?” Chigiri questions for the second since he stepped into your private chambers that evening, “If not, I’ll return to my postage outside your doors.”

Your dressing gown leaves you feeling too bare as he pins you beneath his eyes, “Yes, there was,” you can’t see any of his expression but you’d imagine it lies in a state of perplexion, “Come here.”

At your command, he saunters away from the door. He’d been practically glued to it, keeping himself pressed flush against it as you stared absentmindedly. The metal of his armour clanked uncomfortably with each tentative movement.

“Your Grace, surely you know that this is uncouth.”

“Is it?” You hum, your head falling to the side, “Why do you suppose that is, Chigiri?”

Resting his arms behind his back, his head dips into a slight bow, “You and I are unwed, alone together in your private chambers at the hour of the witch,” silence drifts between the two of you for a moment, “Forgive me but if I may be so bold but, if I recall your father forbade me from entering.”

“You are in my charge, you answer to me not to my father.”

The floorboards creak as you dare to take a step closer.

“He’s the king.”

“And one day when he has well and truly gone cold within the ground I shall be ruler,” you whisper, standing only a hare's breath away, “Even then, you shall still answer to me just as you do now.”

Your fingers itch to curl beneath his armet so you allow them to. The metal burns against your soft palms, the heat of his body’s melted into it, keeping it warm like a stoked fire. His long hair, the colour of the wild raspberries that grew a stone's throw away from the castle's carefully manicured gardens, was plastered with sweat against his alabaster skin. The apples of his cheeks were painted red. He was pretty, you would not have thought that he’d have such pretty lashes or delicate cheekbones. If you were to have imagined what he may look like beneath the layer of armour and thick cottony padding, you’d have assumed he’d be gruff and a bit rough around the edges with calloused hands and a splintered nose that had not quite healed right after a failed joust.

If you hadn’t known better, at first glance you might have mistaken him for a prince.

“You’d do well to remember that, Hyōma.”

Chigiri stares with wide eyes, blinking rapidly in place of using his words, “You should not”

“Should not what?”

It’s an innocent question, one you already know the answer to; you should not call him by his first name. He was far below your rank, it was not only too casual but inappropriate– such intimacies were supposed to be reserved for only a special few.

“You know, your Grace,” Chigiri practically whines in discomfort, “If this were to go on, I could get in trouble.”

His adam's apple bobs uncomfortably when you bring your face closer to his, noses just mere centimetres apart, “Trouble? What such trouble should you be in if you’re fulfilling my whims?” Chigiri blanches, a blunder skewing whatever excuse he was ready to lay before you, “I wished to become acquainted with the man behind the armour, whomever Chigiri Hyōma was when unfettered by duty.”

“I-“

“Do you find that inappropriate?”

Tugging at the collar of the tunic he sports, Chigiri frowns, “I do not,” pressing his lips together, he tips his head downwards, “However might I remind you that I am far below your post, that I work for you. A friendship between us would surely complicate …”

“Who said it was friendship that I wanted,” You question. His helmet falls from your fingertips with a thud. Chigiri winced, forgetting that with a snap of your fingers another would replace it, “When did I say I wished to be your friend?”

“But, you said you wished to know me.”

Placing your hands flat against his chest plate, you laughed, “There are many ways for a person to know another.”

“Oh.”

His eyes flit away from your face, cheeks heavily flushing.

The corners of your lips lift without your permission, the smile crackling into something devious. He’s cute, the bashful look of shock somehow even more delicious than even the sweetest candied plum. Your hot breath fans across his face, with two fingers pressed against his jawline, you bring his gaze back to yours.

“Hyōma?”

“Yes, your Grace?” He whispers, like he’s scared to raise his voice an octave.

“Look at me,” you command, perhaps for the first time in your life.

His hands curl into fists at his side, “I am looking at you,” Chigiri’s voice crackles from the strain.

“No, really look at me,” it’s your turn to whisper. You’d scare him away if you didn’t, “You’re not seeing me.”

“I do not understand what you …”

There’s something ethereal about how he’s bathed in the warm, soft candle light that flickers. Even if he’s unable to see you to truly see what has been simmering for months on end— you saw him. Inexplicably it was there even if he didn’t notice it, but you liked it. You liked the way he unknowingly pressed his cheek further into the palm of your hand as he searched in earnest to understand what you meant.

His gloved hands come to rest upon your shoulders, the leather is rough against your supple skin and it makes you shiver. For a moment his eyes roam from yours down to your lips, and then they slip down the length of your neck to where his hands sit, for the first time taking notice of how your dressing gown has begun to slip, exposing you to him.

Curling his fingers around the thin fabric, he tugs your robe shut, “My apologies,” he mutters, swiftly turning his head away from you.

“It’s quite alright,” your thumb smooths across his skin, just barely skimming the corner of his mouth, “I appreciate how earnestly gallant you are.”

Sliding your hands down to his chest piece, you allow your eyes to drift down the expanse of his torso.

“It’s a shame I’m not.”

Chigiri lifts his arms when you hook your fingers beneath the chest plate, without a word, “You weren’t raised to be,” he says it like he understands you. He hasn’t tried to, he couldn’t have if he wanted. Conversations in passing revealed to little when you wished they’d reveal more, “How could anyone expect you to be.”

“I’m selfish,” you supply before biting down on your bottom lip. The white tunic he sported clung to his frame, exposing the shapes of his body that were usually so well hidden, “You can say it, I’ll allow it.”

“You’re not.”

The smile you offer him is weak, but it placates him all the same, “But I am,” laying your hands flat against his chest, right where his heart erratically pangs against his ribs, you sigh, “That is why you’re here because I’m selfish and you, well you’re the very best of them.”

“I have my faults, more than you know,” Chigiri admits, his breath catching, “You just don’t know me well enough to have seen them.”

You would have liked to tell him that it was for the best but that’d make you a hypocrite too.

“That is untrue.”

Chigiri opens his mouth to refute but he snaps it shut when you hold up a finger before him.

“And remember it is treason to question my judgement.”

The chuckle that escapes you brings a small smile to his lips, “I shall continue to keep that in mind, your Grace”

“My name.”

The tips of your fingers graze against the collar of your dressing gown as you smooth them against your chest. Chigiri’s eyes follow the movement of your hands, a certain intensity simmering behind them as he watches. You wonder if he’s expecting you to slowly unwrap yourself, chaste and pious even when twisting the bounds of the society you’re meant to uphold one day.

“Pardon?” Clearing his throat, Chigiri forces his eyes to focus back onto your face.

“My name, I want you to say it. No more of this “your Grace” nonsense.”

Chigiri has always been good at taking commands. Your name rolls off his tongue with practised ease. A delightful shiver trickles down your spine and you have half a mind to ask him to say it again. It sounds like it was destined to live within the crevices of his throat, whispered over and over again against the shell of your ear and mouth like some sort of well sought secret. Maybe it was.

He says it again without you having to ask, his eyes growing lidded.

It was his duty to fulfil your every whim and wish but only within the confines of this castle. With the way he said your name, tasting each syllable like they were the rarest of wines, you thought it might have been his life’s mission. In this moment at the very least.

Chigiri’s hand shakes as he brings it towards you. The palm of hand is calloused just as you thought it’d be. He cups the underside of your jaw, his thumb biting into the fat of your cheek uncomfortably. His touch is awkward and clearly unfamiliar even for himself but his smile is tender. Furling the worn material of his tunic within your fists you tug his body against yours. He’s warm and firm, the feeling of another all too heavenly.

“May I…” A small frustrated whimper crackles through his words, “May I kiss you.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

He’s fighting the urge to call you by your title, the need to be a gentleman, to be perfect, was strong. Any ounce of couth or refinement had left long ago, if it had even been there in the first. You weren’t sure it had. You had spent many moons dancing around the complicated feeling that arose whenever you allowed your thoughts to linger on him for too long. If you asked, no matter how much Chigiri tried to deny it, you wouldn’t believe that he hadn’t harboured any impure thoughts for you. No matter how genteel or well mannered he was. A fire lived within his eye, his pink irises burned a dastardly rouge from within his large silver helmet. Even when you couldn’t see them you could feel it, directed towards you even when the room was filled with gossips in search of something to bite, it was there. There was nothing chaste or respectable about a man being plagued by all consuming thoughts of another.

“Please,” you all but whine, your voice turning low and needy, “Please kiss me.”

The lack of command or conviction behind your words shocks him but it thrills you. Tomorrow you’d laugh at how pathetic it was, to feel so fulfilled simply by giving your control to your knight but for now you relish in the uncertainty and the feeling of anticipation as you wait for Chigiri to make his move. Your entire life has been nothing but that, acting first with or without thought. It was exhausting. But, you had always supposed there were worst things to experience in life and now you were faced with one of them— the desperation of deprivation as you sat in wait.

His breath fanned across your face as he leaned in closer to you. Stray strands of his hair tickle you as he hovers close. You think you’ll begin to beg if he makes you wait any longer, hoping that he’d get any such satisfaction from bending your resolve so effortlessly. As if your need hadn’t been so apparent.

“Hyōma, please,” you pleaded.

It borders on desperate and you like it.

The press of his lips against yours is firm and pleasant. You don’t have much to compare it to but then again neither does he. What matters is that you like it. Your toes curl within the confines of your plush slippers as a feeling of elation sweeps through you. It settles goosebumps on your arms and burns your face uncomfortably hot but it gratifies you.

If you could pull Chigiri any closer you would– squishing your two bodies together to be one if you could, your hands would settle on fervently twisting his shirt as if that would placate your need for him. Teeth and tongue clash awkwardly when being flush against one another isn’t enough. It couldn’t be, the fire that stirred deep within your belly was ravenous. You were unsure there was anything that would be enough to quell that aching flames that wished to consume you. It’d see you ruined, leaving you nothing but ashes amongst the floorboards and you’d allow it– for him. Chigiri’s hands have dipped past your shoulders and rested low on your hips, it’s far past the respectable touch you thought he’d been so keen to keep.

Your name sounds like a melody when it's whined between sloppy, depraved kisses. If you could commit it to memory you would, “Your Grace,” he shudders, embarrassed by how debauched he’d been, “I’m … I-”

His lips are swollen and slick with saliva. The sight only makes the fire roar even greater within you.

Chigiri’s mouth falls shut when you shush him, all too eager to devour him once more. Tugging at the buttons that keep your dressing gown close, you haphazardly unfasten them. Somewhere in the back of your mind your thoughts begin to wander, wondering if Chigiri were to unbutton them with ease. You’re quick to settle on an answer as you gaze back at him; he would, he was good with his fingers and hands. It was almost dastardly the way Chigiri always managed to draw attention to the skillful way his nimble fingers effortlessly laced his doublet up after a spar or absent mindedly twirled his dagger around.

“You can look at me,” you whisper, as the gown slips off your shoulders to pool around your feet. Your nipples pebble from the chill that carries in through the window, and you can’t hide the shiver that follows.

His gaze isn’t scrutinising, not in the way you feared others might have been. Still, you cast your eyes to the floor and allow an air of bashfulness to surround you. As if, averting your gaze would make his any less powerful. You could feel his eyes trailing up the length of your lengths, they roamed over the curves of your hips and drank in the sight of the thick thatch of curled hair at the base of your pelvis. Chigiri’s eyes burned holes into your body, they seared a path and stained your body with his essence– he had hardly touched you and yet you were marked.

Chigiri’s hands twitch by his side, “You are absolutely stunning,” he breathes, his chest heaving with each deep breath he takes.

Before you can muster up a response, he’s sunk to the floor in front of you. The floorboards groan beneath his knees as he shuffles forwards to grasp your calves.

“Hyōma?”

It’s his turn to shush you, quieting the questions on your tongue. Taking a step back, you stumble against the baseboard of your bed. Your fingers curl around the thick wooden post in hopes of disguising the way they tremble. You’re unsure if it’s the nerves or excitement. It might be both with the way your stomach lurches and is tickled by fluttering butterfly wings.

You wonder where his pride has gone when he shuffles forward once more, or if it was even there in the first place. Perhaps devotion took its place. Is that what knights were taught? To be dutiful was to shirk all sense of personal identity. That couldn’t be right, you thought. When amidst a spar, duel, or tourney, Chigiri seemed to be replaced with a fiery eyed monster in the face of competition. You wondered where it went in the quiet of night or when he stood five paces behind you.

It’s overwhelming, the sight of nothing but pure devotion in his eyes as he gazes up at you. His hands caressing your legs before an experimental kiss is pressed against your knee and then one to the freckle that sits just above it. His hair tickles and you giggle.

“Spread your legs,” he huffs into your skin, his teeth lightly grazing thigh as he speaks, “Now.”

Your heart feels funny when it begins to race. And it’s there again, that tiny pinprick of excitement that sends your head reeling with the rush. It electrifies you, the commanding tone he sports for the first time. You spread your legs just as he asks though your nerves thrum from within your veins. The looks he sports makes you curl in on yourself, you’ve never seen such a predatory glint rest so easily in a man’s eyes.

Delicately placing one hand under your knee, he hooks one of your legs over his shoulders, “Is this comfortable?” Chigiri questions, “If not, I’ll happily-“

“Yes,” you breathily reply as you dare to slip your fingers through his silk hair, “This is perfect.”

“You’re perfect.”

The heat that fills your cheeks does little to rival the molten lava that fills your belly and melts your legs. Your breath catches in your throat when dips his head between your thighs, his tongue, warm and wet, darting out to lick up the seam of your cunt. His name becomes tangled with a moan as you struggle to take a deep breath.

Allowing your eyes to flutter, your nails press into the carved post of your bed, your other hand still thread between strand of his hair tug roughly on them with little care, “Fuck!” You curse, for the first time in your life, “You’re so … You’re so good with your tongue?”

You don’t mean for it to come out as a question but it does, your voice pitching upwards and morphing into a small squeal as his lips wrap around your clit.

“Gentle,” he whimpers against your mound, his eyes falling shut when your nails roughly bite into his scalp, “Be gentle with me.”

A small apology passes your lips but you don’t mean it, not really. It’s said to pacify the artificial wounds of red hot desire. You think he’d look darling with more– spatterings of hued violet that edged on yellow along his jugular and down his chest. They were marks that claimed him, they were far more tangible than gold rings and gaudy diamonds. If your insincerity was obvious, Chigiri doesn’t say anything too busy focusing his sights back on your wet, quivering cunt. He laps at you like he’d died otherwise, the obscenely loud wet smacks of his mouth and tongue against you filling the room and drifting out through the open window. At least, the courtyard below was empty at this time of night.

His nails dig into the fat of your thigh as his grip on you tightens. A heady haze settles across your mind as pleasure zips up your spine. It forces a truly pathetic mewl past your lips, one you weren’t sure you were capable of making.

“Hyōma … Hyōma,” you chant, like a melody, “There, right there.”

Your lolls to the side and your body threatens to become jelly as the fire is stoked and then awash with a chilling clarity that leaves you shivering in his hold.

It’s debauched, the way Chigiri slurps at your folds and tongues your hole to catch each drop of cum before it drips down his chin or smears across his flushed cheeks. But, you find yourself smiling at how eager he is, even when you know you’ll bruise because he’s holding you like you’ll slip away in the blink of an eye. Maybe you would. Once the sun rose and rosters woke the servants the castle would be alive and bustling– whatever bubble you created for the two of you would be broken. Still, it doesn’t stop you from yanking him into your embrace, your lips sloppily moving against his. You taste yourself on his mouth and tongue, and it makes you moan in delight.

His cock throbs from within the confines of his breeches and he can’t help but push himself against your puffy cunt in search of reprieve, “I… let me escort you to bed.”

“We’re already here,” you snort in a positively undignified manner but it manages to ease the earnest, rigid demeanour Chigiri sports the moment he realises what he’s done.

“Right.”

His smile is weak but it’s there nonetheless.

Placing his large hand on the small of your back, he helps you round the corner of your bed. Pulling back your duvet, you prop yourself up against your plush pillows. Chigiri stalls, standing awkwardly like there’s something more he wishes to say.

“Well, this is where I leave you, your Grace,” he smiles, pulling your blankets up to cover your bare breasts, “I hope sleep finds you easily … and happy name day.”

Just as he moves to turn around, your hand darts out to grab his, “Wait,” you pant, “I want you to stay, I command you to stay.”

There's no power behind your words, no real command but he takes it anyways, as if he could use your selfish whims as an excuse for the desire that burned him to.

So he says because how can he refuse his heir on their name day. It would be too cruel after the first taste of indulgence.

#chigiri hyoma x reader #chigiri hyoma smut #bluelock smut #chigiri hyoma x you #chigiri smut #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk smut

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egrets-not-regrets · 6 months

Text

Touch-starved (2)

Erriox is finally home and spends time with Lenora as the night falls.

Dialogue in the Gothic language is italicized and bolded.

Author's note: Takes place after Touch-starved (1). All Erriox/Lenora stories are in chronological order in my master list.

OCs: Erriox (Iron Warrior), Lenora

Tagged: @kit-williams, @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @shadowfirecat, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Moonlight lit his way when he finally returned home. He half-expected Lenora to be asleep at this hour, but was surprised to find her on the couch watching something on the television. She turned her attention to him with gladness in her eyes, “Hey Erriox.” She called out, “It’s good to see you.”

“Same to you.” He called back, his voice half-muffled as his helmet came off. Erriox went around to the back of the couch that she was on, lending a supporting hand as she turned around and stood on the arm of the couch, meeting him at eye-level. Lenora grinned, before breaking into laughter, “This is the first time we’ve been eye to eye and you didn’t have to kneel down!”

Maybe he needed sleep, maybe it was a release from the stress of the mission, maybe it was relief seeing Lenora safe and sound; but whatever it was, it made her laughter contagious. Erriox couldn’t help but laugh himself, “Indeed, short one! Remind me to bring you a chair to stand on next time we talk!”

Lenora snorted at his jest and looked at him fondly, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, “You have a nice laugh, you know?” She commented sincerely as she pulled him close in a hug.

Erriox felt heat rise to the edge of his ears. Not knowing how to respond to that, he wrapped his arms around her tightly to complete the embrace, burying his nose into her neck. Lenora smelled of forest pines, the earth, and the aroma of her cooking. She was here. She was safe. She was home. He let out a quiet sigh of contentment.

Lenora noticed her Astartes was holding onto her for much longer than usual, but she let him. She always suspected that he probably needed a good hug or two anyway. She leaned into his embrace, nuzzling back, ignoring the cold metal of his armour pressing hard against her body, and tightened her arms around him, “Welcome home, Erriox.” She whispered.

The Iron Warrior eventually let go, albeit a bit reluctantly.

“You need not stay awake this late to wait for me.” He said as he held her hand when she stepped back down onto the couch cushion.

Lenora dismissed his worry with a laugh, “It is fine. I could not sleep this early after night-shift anyways.” She gestured to the direction of the bathroom with her chin, “Go shower and come join me after?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, pressing his forehead against hers affectionately before turning to go get cleaned up.

A thought occurred to Lenora, “Do you want me to heat up some food for you?” She called to his back.

“No need.” He replied as he disappeared around the corner. Erriox was quick to shower and return to the living room to spend precious time with his human. Lenora was startled when she saw him, not expecting him to be that fast or that silent. She grinned wryly, “For a big man, your feet are very quiet.”

Her Iron Warrior smirked, “It is a practised skill.”

She patted the seat in front of her, “Could you sit in front of me and lay your head in my lap? I would like to try something. This won’t hurt, I promise.”

Erriox did as she instructed, curious as to what she wanted to do. With practiced motion, Lenora massaged his head, starting from his temples. He closed his eyes feeling her fingers working circles from his temples to his brows, releasing the tension he held there. A rumbling purr erupted from his chest when he felt her hands massage through his scalp; slowly and deliberately moving down to massage his neck. He lazily opened one eye when he heard her giggle.

“Your purring reminds me of a big cougar.”

“What is a cougar?”

“It is also called a mountain lion.” She typed in the search bar and passed him her phone. Erriox looked at the images before placing it onto the coffee table again, replying, “Mountain lion is how you say it in gothic approximately. It looks very different than what I expected.”

Lenora smiled, her fingers stroking along his jawline. “They live in a different environment, therefore they have a different form. They still could take down large prey by themselves.” Her Astartes, still listening, closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.

After a brief moment of silence, Lenora asked curiously, “How did your mission go?”

A grimace set on his face, “It went well.”

She frowned at his response and paused in her ministrations, “You don’t have to talk about it beyond that if you don’t want to.”

“No, it is better that you know what is out there.” Erriox admitted. As much as he wanted to keep her away from the brutality of his world, it spills over regardless. News and media reports of humans being stolen and killed were nothing new, and Lenora is no stranger to it. He didn’t have to get into details with her.

“The mission went well. We recovered both my brothers’ humans alive.” She heard the unsaid words “this time”.

“They’re from the warband from the town south of here?” He nodded. She curled over and kissed the tip of his nose, “That’s good news.”

Erriox caught the back of her neck and brought her down again as she was about to get up. The Iron Warrior gently nipped her bottom lip, “One more for good luck.”

Lenora laughed, “Cheeky. You use my words against me?”

His eyes held a glint of humour among affection. “You offered first.”

He purred when she kissed him back.

Her body rose from the hunched over position as Lenora bent her arms behind her, stretching her back in the process. She yawned, turning off the television, about to get up from the couch, “I am going to sleep.”

Erriox held onto her hand, “Stay with me.” He wasn’t sure why, but he craved her contact; he needed her presence there with him; needed to make sure she was well and safe and won’t be somehow stolen away. At least for tonight. Lenora looked at her bonded Astartes worriedly. Something about this mission unsettled him and she highly suspected that he’d be tight-lipped about the details. She tugged his hand, “Bedroom then, let’s go.”

He suddenly scooped her into his arms and quickly marched to her (their) bedroom, much to Lenora’s panic, before laying back on her pillows with her cradled against him. He cooed teasingly at her, “There is no need to fear. I have you.”

Lenora let out a huff as she relaxed against his torso, “I am not used to being carried like that.”

Erriox grinned at her, “I will keep that in mind.”

She glared back at him, though her mouth couldn’t hold back a smile, “Don’t you dare. I am not a cat that you can carry whenever you please.”

“Whatever you say, little cat.” Lenora felt his laughter vibrate through his chest. She sighed exasperatedly, giving him a hug in return, “Very funny, mountain lion.”

Erriox watched, content, as Lenora drifted off to sleep, listening to her heartbeat slow down. One hand wrapped securely around her, the other idly running up and down the length of her back. He never expected to end up here in ancient Terra or bonded to this precious human of his, but he would be damned if he’d let anything steal her away from him.

#space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #warhammer 40k #iron warriors #oc: erriox #oc: lenora

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camilaxmartin · 2 years

Note

Hey, can i request a shuri x afab reader where the reader is an avenger sent after tchallas death to help protect wakanda(preferably a superhero with wings or something like that) and shuri falls in love with her and they both confess at the same time after reader gets jealous of riri. Please. Thank you <333

ღ the scientist II

hi! thank you so much for requesting this! i changed it a bit so i could fit it into the story, i hope you don’t mind that much, but this idea was just stuck up in my head and your request captured it almost ideally!

navigation // request // me and find the rest!

summary: shuri meets riri and the reader gets jealous of riri (the confess part is gonna be in another part)

warnings: SPOILERS FOR BP: WAKANDA FOREVER

notes: that’s the awaited part two! i hope you enjoy!

part one // part three // part four

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>•<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

all tree of you get out of the car at the parking of your workshop. there was a light turned on inside, you could see it through one of the windows. she was there.

you quickly passed shuri and okoye being the first one to enter. with a slight amount of strength, you pressed the handle and in no time you smelled home.

opening door for the two women you get out of the way for them to come in and also going fast to your stand looking for the thing you originally came here for.

shuri was literally amazed when she saw everything that you and your friend were working on there. she couldn’t pull away her eyes.

“yo” suddenly you heard a voice. you knew it’d finally happen.

“hey” you responded. shuri and okoye were standing in a line with a confused looks on their faces, a really precious picture if i’m gonna be honest.

“woo, whose that?” your friend asked finally emerging from her stand.

“that’s shuri, princess of wakanda and her friend who’s also her bodyguard” you explained to the poor girl.

“hey” shuri greeted herself and riri immediately smiled at her.

“hi princess” she greeted too and you not intentionally rolled you eyes at her words. you haven’t noticed you were being watched.

“YOU BUILT THIS?” shuri scream looking up and seeing riri’s armor.

“yea, almost everything in here was built by us.” she responded looking really proud.

“you guys are incredible.” shuri said still not pulling away her eyes.

“geniuses.” okoye commented also looking around.

you finally approached your stand and turned on your computer with all your plans and everything inside.

“you keep such important plans on your laptop?” okoye asked you looking very concerned.

“you wouldn’t have a chance breaking into it.” you said feeling a little bold.

“imagine forgetting one of those passwords.” shuri laughed watching all of your works.

“there was this one time,” riri replied, catching shuri’s attention. “i forgot it, and spend a whole semester breaking into my own account” she laughed at which shuri just smiled.

you felt your blood boiling. even though you didn’t know why.

“that’s what happens when you’re forgetful.” you sarcastically smiled at your best friend.

“why so mean?” riri asked which came out more rhetorical. you huffed. okoye on the other hand, smiled to herself watching this whole interaction.

“how long did it take you to build this?” shuri asked her, pointing to the armor under the metal ceiling.

“almost my whole life.” she replied also looking up at it. “the work of my life.” she laughed and shuri did the same.

“without stark’s plans you’d have nothing.” you said sounding more mean that you wanted.

“that’s half true tho.” riri responded not catching or just ignoring your tone. “but help is always appreciated right?” she said smiling and shuri just nodded.

“you also have a lot of talent i mean, without it you’d be nowhere.” shuri replied looking at riri with pure excitement. similar to the look she gave you when you were at the campus.

“to be young, gifted and black, right?” riri said, which earned her a chuckle from okoye and a bright smile from shuri. oh, and another roll of your eyes but they probably haven’t noticed that.

“it’s beautiful.” shuri said turning around and glueing her eyes to the motorcycle.

“one of my works.” riri replied claiming everything you did on it, to herself.

“you wish.” you whispered but everyone in the room heard you.

“don’t even think about it shuri.” warned okoye seeing the glint in shuri’s eyes.

“of course i won’t.” she responded shrugging her shoulders like it’s the clearest thing on the planet.

“y/n helped a bit with renovation but making it work was all me.” riri said, lying again.

“you sure about it?” you asked taking out the keys from your pocket and pushing one of the buttons you had attached to your pendant. the motorcycle immediately got to work and started making noise. you then quickly turned it off.

“fine. she helped a bit.” riri said with a rather jokingly tone. “but! i was the one to even bring it here” she said which was also half true.

“okaaay.” you said feeling the need to end this conversation and wanting all the attention to be directed back at you. “now i just need to find the file and we’ll be done.” you said like it was the most important thing you’ve ever said.

“great.” said okoye. “then we can head back to wakanda finally.” she added feeling the need to make her statement.

“you didn’t say anything?!” riri shouted coming up to you and hitting your arm. “an adventure in wakanda! girl, what happened when i was here?” she said not believing your words.

“yeah, yeah, i would prefer to be in class right now.” you said, eyes still glued to the screen.

“i’m not believing ya.” she said gesturing. “you are in for something you probably won’t forget till the end of your days. how could you pick school over it?” she asked rhetorically but you wanted to answer so bad, so you did.

“school has something to do with my future.” you responded harshly.

“you say that like this wouldn’t have something to do with you future.” she said directing her attention to shuri again. you didn’t quiet catch what she meant.

“i can’t believe you got access to those plans” shuri said suddenly breaking your conversation. she come up to the big board with so many papers sticked to it and started reading everything. riri was next to her in no time and wanted to explain everything but shuri didn’t let her. “i would love to work with these one day.” she said touching one of the papers wanting to look under it. riri wanted to show her more of the plans so she also touched the paper. suddenly their hands met while grabbing one of them. riri quickly looked at shuri and a small blush was creeping up on her face while she took her hand away the fasted you have ever seen. your attention which was directed at the two of them from the time they started standing before the board, came back to the laptop screen pretending to be searching for the file hard. you heard okoye laugh at the whole situation.

“oh princess.” she started and you knew it wasn’t gonna be good. “i think you should come to the city more. the girls here are pretty crazy about you.”

and you lost it.

impetuously you closed the computer getting everyone’s attention once again. “done.” you smiled sarcastically and this time riri rolled her eyes at you. you knew she wasn’t seriously mad it was just for the act. you came up to okoye handing her the laptop.

“great we can go ba-“ okoye started but at the same time all of us heard a siren. a police siren.

“you brought FBI and police to our place?!” riri screamed and shuri automatically shut her mouth putting a hand on it.

“riri, use the secret door. i’ll see you when i’m back.” you said worried. she nodded and quickly came up to you, for a hug. you squeezed her tight and then let her go watching as her posture disappears behind the little door.

“i thought it’d be peaceful for once.” you exhaled while grabbing all the papers from the board and thrusting then into a can, to burn them.

“girls get in to the car, we need to be fast.” okoye said walking to the car.

“be careful please!” you shouted not caring for a moment about people outside. “it’s… special.” you said and shuri nodded at your words.

“of course.” she said walking up to the car too, and attaching something to it. you turned on the torch and just threw it to the can with papers.

“i’m not going with you.” you stated and both women looked at you with shock.

“y/n you need to g-“ you interrupted okoye.

“no. i’m still going with you two i’m just gonna try something.” you explained clicking one of the buttons on your desk. suddenly the ceiling opened even more to expose something you were working almost all your life on.

“that must have taken you all your life” shuri said amazed by you again. “and tell me you also built it alone and i’m gonna throw hands.” she said immediately looking up and seeing metallic wings attached by strings to the final window on the ceiling.

“it took only like eighteen years.” you smiled and pushed another button making wings not so slowly come down to the height you were able to take them off the strings and put on your back.

“open the gate for us.” shuri demanded and you did just that, loving how you could finally use almost all of the buttons.

“okay, now, shuri get in.” okoye said sitting behind the wheel.

“i’m sorry okoye but we’ll catch up! griot drive!” she quickly said and the engine get to work.

“yes princess” the al answered her.

“shuri!” okoye screamed while being driven away from your workshop.

“she’ll be fine.” shuri said to you and you smiled at her, putting on your wings.

“i’m certain.” you smiled even more and shuri quickly came up to you. you weren’t sure what was happening.

“now, have this.” shuri said putting something behind your ear. “it’s a tracker so you can be in touch with us all the time.” she said and her hand cupped your cheek for a bit. she was looking right into your eyes and you felt like you’re gonna melt any moment now. she smiled seeing the blush forming on your face.

“thank you princess.” you said the only thing that came up to your mind at that moment. she licked her lips still smiling and suddenly took her hand away going towards her desired machine.

“now let’s go, we need to escape them.” she said hopping on the motorcycle and immediately starting it, which you weren’t sure how she did it. but besides that, you didn’t need to be told twice. shuri drove right out of your workshop and in no time you flew after her.

you couldn’t believe you were finally using your wings. the thing you worked most of your life on and one of your biggest dreams. it was like a dream come true, literally.

all of the action were happening so fast you didn’t know how you could catch up. but you did. and you did it excellent.

after shooting down the huge drone you landed on the bridge; the place all three of you were supposed to meet up again. and right in the moment when your feet were about to touch the ground you felt an unimaginable pain in your ankle. and it that moment - everything went black.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>•<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

@retirement-home @mrsmunsonlaufeyson @lololo392 @liliana-byers @originalcollectionpirate @jeniyona-ame

#request #reqs open #request open #shuri #mcu shuri #shuri imagine #shuri request #queen shuri #shuri fic #shuri x reader #black panther request #shuri black panther #black panther shuri #black panther wakanda forever #black panther imagine

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