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fauxnova34 · 4 months ago

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The Ice Between Us

| Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: When you a bored college student signs up for a beginners figure skating class, you never expected to be trained by Wanda Maximoff, the cold and commanding former figure skating champion whose career was cut short by an ACL injury. Wanda’s authority on the ice is absolute, she has no patience for beginners- especially one who seems to struggle with every move. Despite her harsh demeanour you’re more than determined to prove yourself. As Wanda asserts control over the class and over you, a complicated dynamic of power, desire and resistance begins to form. Will you rise to the challenge or crumble under wanda’s unyielding gaze?

Tags/warnings: Mean Wanda, dom/sub, fluff and smut, Age difference, mutual pining, Tension, Kinda enemies to lovers

Author’s note: This is my first series so I’m sorry if it’s not great, all comments/suggestions/critique is welcome but please be kind and respectful. I hope you enjoy the fic and the wild ride we are all in for!

You weren’t exactly sure what had prompted you in the beginning to sign up to this class. Maybe it was the fact that your college schedule felt endless, or maybe it was the idea of gliding on the ice seemed like the perfect escape from the pressures of exams and assignments. You’d always wanted to learn, but never had the chance. So, when a flyer had appeared on the campus bulletin board for extracurricular activities for adults, you had taken the plunge.

What you weren’t prepared for though, was her.

Wanda Maximoff. You’d heard of her of course, everyone had. She was a legend, practically a household name in the world of figure skating and on your TikTok for you page more than you’d like to admit. That was all until a catastrophic ACL injury had forced her out of the competition scene. Now, apparently she was here, in this small rink, offering to teach beginners like you. Your stomach flipped at the sight of her.

Wanda was standing in the set middle of the rink, her posture perfect, wrapped in a simple black jacket that hugged her curves, but there was nothing simple about her presence. She looked like she belonged to the ice like it was an extension of herself. As she began to glide every movement was sharp and graceful. She was without a doubt beautiful, but it was more than that. It was the way she seemed to command attention without even trying.

You shook yourself out of your daze and looked back down to your laces, you were hesitating, feeling the unmistakable rush of nerves in your veins. Was it really too late to turn around? But before you could make up your mind, her eyes found you.

Her gaze was immediate and it felt like a weight on your chest. You swallowed, heart suddenly hammering as she skated towards you with effortless speed, cutting through the ice with precision and grace that made your stomach tighten. She stepped of the ice in front of you, barely a breath away and your mouth went dry.

“You’re late” she said, her voice sharp. Her eyes were cold like they had already sized you up. She spoke up again “This isn’t the place for latecomers.”

You stammered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “I-I’m sorry. I hadn’t realised the class had already started”

“You’re here to learn how to skate, not to make excuses.” Wanda’s tone left no room for argument. She crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing with quiet judgement. “Hurry up and get in line. We don’t have time for anyone to be behind.”

The words stung and you felt the blush creeping up your neck. She wasn’t even trying to soften her tone. Her presence pressed against you like a weight you couldn’t shake. You were already wishing you could crawl into a hole and hide.

You nodded, unsure of what else to do. Her eyes didn’t leave you, not for a second. You were almost wondering if she was waiting for you to fail. “Laces criss crossed into a bow, be quick about it” she left you with before moving back into the centre.

Forcing your hands into motion you began tying them as she had said criss and crossing until they looks somewhat presentable tying them off with the bow before awkwardly shuffling to the rink where the rest of the class were trying to get into some semblance of rhythm. The other skaters didn’t notice your awkward entrance, but you could feel Wanda’s gaze on you, sharp and unblinking, as if she was waiting to watch every little mistake you would make.

The floor was slippery beneath you, and every step felt like you were about to lose your balance. But you couldn’t let yourself fall, not in front of her. You wanted to be good at this, needing to prove you could be more than another newbie just stumbling around on the ice.

“Don’t just stand there” Wanda’s voice cut through the space. “ Move, this is the beginners class, not the ‘watch people flail’ class. Skate, or get out.”

You froze, not sure if you’d been caught making a bigger mistake or if she just liked to keep her class on edge. That’s until the whole class seemed to stop and stare at you, and for a moment you just wished the earth would swallow you whole. But instead Wanda’s eyes locked with yours, for a fleeting second you’re sure you seen them soften, just barely.

“Try again” she said, her tone still commanding but with a subtle shift, something almost, expectant. “ And this time, don’t waste my time.”

Trying to ignore the way her words stung like a slap, you nodded. There was something about her authority, her control, that both frustrated you and compelled you. You knew she was tough, knew she wouldn’t let anyone slide by easily, but the more she pushed you the more you couldn’t help but want to prove her wrong.

Her eyes remained on you as you took another step, trying again to find some balance to glide across the ice. Every tiny movement seemed to be under her scrutiny and it made you feel both exposed and strangely…alive.

“Better” the word was still sharp, as if she were merely acknowledging that you hadn’t just completely embarrassed yourself. “But that’s not good enough. Do it again and this time, don’t think. Just move.”

It was a command and you didn’t even think to argue. You couldn’t, it felt like you were being bent to her will and you found yourself falling into line whether you wanted to or not.

You glanced around the rink desperate to follow the other skaters but they had already moved on. You were the only one still left struggling, alone in her gaze. She stood there, watching you, every bit the dominant figure that she was. And despite how harsh her words felt, despite the biting coldness in her tone, you couldn’t shake the feeling Wanda wanted something from you, something more than a simple performance.

She wanted obedience. She wanted control.

And for some reason, you couldn’t help but want to give it to her.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda imagine #marvel wlw #wanda maximommy #wanda smut #wlw #wlw post #marvel smut #dom wlw #sub wlw

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mapis-putellas · 4 months ago

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𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒍𝒌/𝑨.𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊

The first time you ever spoke to Aitana Bonmati, the conversation left you baffled.

It was a breezy, sunlit morning at the Barca training grounds, just a couple of weeks after you’d joined the team. You were new to Barcelona, and adjusting to life in Spain was already a challenge. On top of that, your limited Spanish made communication with most of your teammates feel like an endless series of charades. But Aitana was different. She’d already caught your eye—tiny but fierce. She had this incredible strength despite her size, and you soon learned she was affectionately called “baby Hulk” by her teammates. But beyond her reputation on the pitch, it was her affectionate smile that truly made her stand out.

On this particular morning, Aitana approached you, cheeks a little pink, as if she’d been rehearsing something in her head. Her gaze met yours, and she took a deep breath, then said, “You…buy coffee…me?”

You blinked, caught off guard, trying to decipher her intent. She pointed to herself and mimicked drinking, eyebrows raised expectantly. You weren’t sure if she was asking you to go get coffee with her or telling you to buy her one. Before you could even ask for clarification, she gave a satisfied nod, said “Gracias,” and walked off, leaving you standing there, coffee duty apparently assigned.

The next morning, you decided to show up with a coffee, hoping maybe it was what she’d wanted. You handed it to her, and her eyes widened in surprise. “No! No, no…not…this,” she stammered, clearly flustered. She stumbled through an explanation in her adorable English, trying to explain that she’d wanted to invite you for coffee, not for you to buy her one.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the misunderstanding now incredibly endearing, and she looked at you, cheeks burning, as she realized what had happened. “I…invite you. Coffee. Together,” she said slowly, determined to get it right this time.

From then on, you never let her forget that first conversation, bringing it up just to see her blush.

But despite the language barrier, something clicked between you two. You found yourself gravitating toward Aitana, charmed by her determination. She was magnetic, and even though her English was shaky, you could tell that she understood you in ways that mattered. And bit by bit, her English improved as the months went by. Your teasing about her early mistakes never ceased, though, and every time you brought it up, she’d laugh in that unfiltered way that made your heart flip.

Over time, the teasing became part of your routine, like an inside joke you shared just between the two of you. When Aitana scored a goal, she would always turn toward you and without fail, leap into your arms. You’d spin her around, feeling her legs wrap tightly around your waist, the noise of the stadium fading into the background.

At home, she was even more tactile, always finding ways to hang off of you. If you were cooking in the kitchen, she’d come up from behind, jumping onto your back with a soft grunt, her arms slung around your shoulders as she balanced on your hips. Or if you were watching TV, she’d curl up in your lap, her head resting lazily on your shoulder or absently tracing circles on your arm. Her touch was gentle, and it made you feel adored in a way that went beyond words.

After watching a particularly intense game, she decided she wanted to come up with a nickname for you. She scrunched her nose, deep in thought, muttering various possibilities in Spanish. Finally, she looked at you, beaming with pride as she declared, “I call you… ‘Big Bear’.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by her choice. “Big Bear?” you repeated, a little horrified. “Why?”

She hesitated, clearly noticing your reaction. “You are strong, but also… cuddly?” she tried to explain, searching for the right words. She looked at you, her face falling slightly as she read the alarm in your eyes.

You laughed, and she let out a relieved sigh, swatting at you playfully. “It’s not good?” she asked, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You reassured her with a grin, telling her you’d come to accept “Big Bear” if that’s what she wanted to call you.

There was one viral moment when Aitana had been trying to answer fans’ questions at an open training session. Her English was still a work in progress, so when one fan mentioned they had been at the stadium all day, she tilted her head and, in her typical earnest way, asked, “You work, or not work?”

It became an instant meme among fans, something almost everyone teased her about it for weeks. Even you couldn’t help but join in, mimicking her question in a mock-serious tone. She’d roll her eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips as she told you to stop, but you could see how amused she actually was.

Sometimes, she’d try to surprise you by practicing English phrases she’d learned. She’d walk up to you, saying “You are… beautiful, today,” the hesitation in her voice only making the words more precious. And each time, you’d melt, feeling as though those were the most wonderful words anyone had ever spoken to you.

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

#aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati imagine #aitana bonmati x reader #woso community #woso x reader #woso appreciation #woso imagine

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leth-writes · 8 months ago

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hotd x oblivious reader

I’m thinking about a reader who’s kinda oblivious. They aren’t super aware of everything going on around them, they’re just confused as to why no one is getting along.

You’re really close with both team black and green, to the point that they’re fighting over you, but you’re not even aware of the actual conflict; you just think it’s petty interpersonal drama.

They’re over in the corner threatening each other with dragons and swords and you’re just… hanging out with Helaena, looking at butterflies and asking to pet her dragon.

the second you express interest in the dragons, there’s practically a line; you’re the most nervous with Daemon and Aemond’s dragons, for obvious reasons given their reputation, but Luke has a pretty small dragon so you grow closer to him through that. Rather than the size of the castle, Arrax is about the size of a particularly large horse, or maybe a big bear. More manageable when you know they can’t swallow you in one bite.

This drives a wedge further between Aemond and Luke, with Aemond outright glaring every time he so much as catches a glimpse at Luke. Not only did he take his eye, now he’s taking a bonding opportunity out from under her?! He’s pissed and challenges him to a duel. You still think it’s all fun and games, and you’re cheering for both of them, and they’re both trying to fucking kill each other, it’s pretty intense.

no matter who wins, you’re ecstatic, and you hug them both and kiss them both on the cheek. The blush that blooms on their faces and the almost goofy smiles that stretch across their cheeks are perhaps the only thing they’ve had in common in years.

Aemond totally uses his injury to ingratiate himself with you. It makes you feel bad for him, and while he doesn’t normally want pity, he’s fine using it to his advantage. Once Luke is out of the way, he reckons, he’ll be able to reveal his true self slowly over time.

Daemon’s also pretty likely to get into physical fights, though he sues his silver tongue to make you blush just as often. He really is quite sly, and he’s the only one to outright proposition you. He’ll get Jace to take you out for a night in the town, slowly working their way to the brothels, trying to sully your reputation just far enough that you’ll have to marry him. It worked for Daemon, after all, and he just wants you connected to him. He’s fully aware that he’s not going to be able to live without you. Having you tied to Jace is just the perfect way to keep you close.

Rhaenyra is also taking advantage of your oblivious and gullible nature. She definitely tries to take advantage of the fact that you aren’t able to catch on to her true intentions. She’s convinced you to cuddle with her by telling you she’s too cold, and that Daemon’s too busy, and you felt so bad for her you were totally willing.

She’s more straightforward, pushing Jace to try to court you. He’s fighting off any of your various suitors, and anyone who is trying to take advantage of your obliviousness to secure a connection to the family.

You’re targeted by people from all over, mainly because of your close bonds to the various members of the nobility. Everyone has to work together to keep you safe when it’s announced you’re willing to court some random lord. You think you’re in love, they need to convince you otherwise.

Daemon immediately gets to work sullying the reputation of that lord. Then, he murders them. He’s not above paying a prostitute to seduce them in a place where you catch the two of them in the act, ravaging your heart.

Aemond and Jace both try to step into that void. Aemond, who takes a slightly more subtle approach, asking you to ride on Vhagar, fails; Jace, under the advice of Rhaenyra, takes a more direct approach and is able to begin dating you.

Alicent practically loses it, seeing her child so defiled by Rhaenyra’s child. She’s trying to convince you to marry Aemond or Aegon instead. Aegon shows up naked in your room; you can’t miss that clue, after all. It doesn’t work, you’re convinced he just mistook your room for his. Your rooms look nothing alike, but Aegon’s too charmed to even mention it.

Finally, Otto steps in to prevent Alicent from snapping and attacking someone. He’s not willing to let his precious grandchild fall into the hands of one of Rhaenyra’s bastards, after all.

Viserys is informed, even on his deathbed, that you should be married to Aemond. It’s to secure the familial line, after all, and your children will surely be strong and loved, the perfect combination.

So, he announces that you will be married to Aemond, breaking your relationship to Jace. Jace is heartbroken, Rhaenyra and Daemon are ready to burn the castle to the ground.

Thus begins the fight of the century.

#yandere hotd #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere jacaerys velaryon #yandere aegon x reader #yander daemon targaryen #lethwrites #yandere alicent hightower

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pastafossa · 7 months ago

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"Sharing is Caring" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic, 🔥)

Time for the next prompt for my Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! This is for day 4 (Matt very much did not like this only being a drabble so now it's 5600 words, fuck me), I chose to combine the kink and fluff prompts (69 and 'Are you blushing?'). You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Wordcount: 5.6k, Matt fought me and won

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: smutty smut smut, 69 position so oral for both plus face riding, overstimulation, lil bit of prostate stim, multiple orgasms, panty tearing, matt is a MENACE

LOOK AT THIS SMUG MOTHERFUCKER, I HAD A NEAT AND ORDERLY TIMELINE AND A DRABBLE OUTLINE, INSTEAD HE THREW THAT OUT THE WINDOW AND HE HAS FILLED THIS FIC WITH SIN, THE AUDACITY, WHAT TIME IS IT, MATT THIS IS YOUR FAULT

Matt was a giving lover. That much you knew.

No round of sex with Matt ended without at least one orgasm for you, and often more if he had his way, which he often did, the audacity of that man. It wasn’t unusual for him to spend hours with his head buried between your thighs, skilled tongue lapping hungrily at your sex in a way that made you see stars, and had also led to you tearing a hole in the sheets on more than one occasion. He’d bent you over every last surface in the apartment, and some of the surfaces outside it too. Somehow he always managed to sink himself so deeply inside you that you’d have sworn you felt him in your throat, and that feeling was always followed by him fucking into you with a practiced athleticism that never failed to leave you a melted, howling mess.

In other words, if sex with you was an artform, your climax was the masterpiece Matt lovingly devoted himself to creating. You’d never been with someone who took such joy in giving you pleasure. But sometimes he was… too giving.

Like now, when what you wanted was to get that thick cock of his into your mouth.

“Oh, but sweetheart, I’m so hungry,” he purred, a warm, distracting light in his eyes. He was all heat and hungry fire where he stood in the bedroom doorway, a slow, lazy lick of his lips that admittedly had your cunt clenching around nothing. That look meant he had no intention of letting you out of bed for at least the next three hours. The growing outline of his hardening cock against his slacks only confirmed your suspicion as his voice dropped into something low and tempting. “I’ve been thinking about tasting you all day. It’s the only reason I got through work. Let me get my mouth on you, just for a little while. I’ll make it good for you, you know I will. Don’t you want that?”

It was a good offer. A very good offer, and one he was more than capable of fulfilling. You both knew it. But damn it, you also knew what you wanted.

“No,” you said stubbornly, crossing your arms. “I don’t want that.” “Lie,” he murmured. His head cocked, his sightless gaze dropping to your chest, and then lower until they landed somewhere around your hips. His lips slowly curled up into a smirk. “Mm, big lie.” “...Alright, so maybe I always want that,” you admitted reluctantly, biting your lip as you stared down at the outline of your prize, heavy and thick even through the cloth. It was enough to make your mouth water. “But right now I want to suck you off more.”

And god, did you ever. It was rare for him to let you go down on him, but those memories had become regulars in your fantasies. There was just something about his soft moans and hitched whines when you took him in your mouth, the way he threw his head back and his mouth hung slack, his spine arching when you let the tip of your tongue gently brush that spot below the head of his cock until he fucking begged for you to swallow him down. And if you kept going after he’d already come, kept sucking at his softening cock and pressed your knuckle just right behind his balls, drove his trembling, writhing body carefully into overstimulation, you could even drag something like a second orgasm out of him in short succession. He’d been a melted, purring, barely coherent puddle for a good hour when you'd last managed it and you had every intention of seeing if you couldn’t do it again.

His brows shot up, as if he were genuinely surprised at just how truthful you’d been, or maybe surprised at just aroused the thought of your mouth on him made you. But those same brows quickly furrowed in open confusion. “You…” His head shifted back and forth, checking again that you were telling the truth. “You want that? Over me going down on you?” “Why is it so hard to believe I want you like you want me?” You snorted, wandering over to him until you could lean in and kiss him playfully. He still seemed puzzled, but he made a little huff of amusement when you did it again, dragging your nails down the front of his shirt. His chest rumbled beneath your touch, a quiet groan of pleasure. “Come on. Share, Matt. Let me have a taste this time.”

He tipped his head down slowly towards you, clearly tempted. You leaned into him, another rumble leaving him when your lips brushed tantalizingly against the corner of his mouth. You almost had him. The blatant note of your arousal in the air would only help your case now that you were up close. There was a growing flush on his cheeks, and his nostrils flared, taking your scent in when you not-so-subtly rubbed your thighs together. You slowly hooked one finger in his belt, giving it a tug. “Please?” Your desire left you almost breathless, the word hushed and pleading. You weren’t above begging if you needed to. “I need you in my mouth, Matt. You can have me after, can’t you?” “Or…” He drew his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, sucking lightly before letting it go, his mouth parted and wet. “Or we can both get what we want, with a few adjustments.” Oh.

Your breath caught, and you went still, something thick and rich as molten honey rolling through your veins. “Why, sweetheart,” he murmured, dipping his head until he could feather his lips over your ear. One of his fingers brushed over your sternum, so light you almost didn’t feel it, before it traced its way gradually up your throat to your cheek, stirring all the tiny hairs in its wake. “Are you blushing?” “No,” you whispered, caught up in visions of what that might look like, feel like, to have his tongue licking its way hungrily into your cunt, all while you took his cock in your mouth and tried your best to make him lose his mind. Would he grow sloppy then, clumsy when you toyed with the head of him? Or would he tap into that focus of his, the two of you in a blatant competition to see who broke first? You wouldn’t deny just how wet the idea made you, but that would also be a lot of sensation for him, especially when you both knew he could come from the taste of your cunt alone. “Or… yes, I… Would that be… too much? Your senses—”

“I’ll be fine. I may have…” He let out a low chuckle, his own cheeks now the lightest bit pink as he cleared his throat. “I may have gone into the office bathroom before I left work, and… taken care of myself. I’d been thinking about my head between your thighs all day. I had to make sure I could get home.”

The visual slammed into you with the force of a truck: Matt with one scarred hand pressed tight over his mouth to stifle his moans while he frantically stroked at his cock. And it was all because he’d spent hours thinking about how he was going to go home, throw you into bed, and find his way right down to your cunt. Your low moan was quickly swallowed up as he caught your chin and tipped your head up so his lips could find yours. The kiss was all teeth and burning heat, fire and fierce need, his stubble rasping against your skin until you felt like you were on fire. One of his hands swept down and behind you, fingers spread wide as he groped roughly, greedily against your ass. He used that same grip to haul you forward into him, making you whine when his hips ground into yours, letting you feel exactly what you’d done to him. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I can smell you, how wet you are. Tell me you want that, sweetheart. Tell me—” “God yes, please, please, Matt.”

You didn’t bother to keep track of where your clothes fell as you both stumbled your way into the bedroom, neither of you willing to pull your hands and mouths off each other long enough to figure that out. You managed to get everything off but your panties by the time you neared the bed, and you fully intended to slide those off, too, but you were distracted by the pleasure of Matt’s mouth as he determinedly nipped and licked at the skin of your throat, blatantly drinking the pheromones from your skin. Fortunately, Matt was a bit less distracted.

The tearing of fabric rang out, and then Matt’s fingers slipped between your soaked folds, stroking three fingers eagerly along your slit until you gasped out his name.

“Oops,” he said with a smirk.

“You’re paying for those,” you grumbled. “Happily.” He side stepped around you, and by the time you’d turned he was already on the bed, rolling onto his back and tipping his head back in clear expectation. Then he brought his wet, gleaming fingers up to his mouth, inhaling intently as he rubbed his fingers together. The reaction was immediate: a fierce groan, his other hand shooting down to wrap tightly around his cock as his hips bucked.

“Shit,” you whispered, absolutely mesmerized as he took another greedy breath, a creeping flush spreading across his pale skin. He may have come an hour or so ago, but his cock already looked achingly hard, the whole of it flushed dark and red, a decadent droplet of precum beading at the tip. He was an absolute vision, all of that strength and power, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laid out like a meal for you, this affected just by the thought, the scent of your arousal. It lit a fire in you, and Matt must have sensed it, because he let out a growl before giving in and shoving his fingers into his mouth. His eyes snapped shut, a loud moan tearing through him. His other hand started to stroke quickly at his cock, firm drives up with a smooth sweep of his palm over the head before sliding back down, all as he sucked the taste of you eagerly from his fingers, unwilling to lose even a single drop. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen. “Holy shit, you’re trying to kill me.” “Get up here and ride my face, sweetheart,” he grit out, shifting to let his thumb rub against the wet head of his cock. A delicious shiver ran through him, and he rolled his head on the pillow to face you. There was something far darker in his eyes, then, whispers of the Devil, of merciless rain on hard city streets. “Do it before I drag you up here myself, because I’m not going to fucking care if you can reach my cock when I do.”

It was the only invitation you needed, and you scrambled up onto the bed before he could change his mind. You had no intention of missing the opportunity he’d given you.

You hit another brief snag, however, once you’d crawled over to him. You’d ridden his face before, but that had always been with you facing the headboard or the arm of the couch. This required the opposite angle. After a moment’s consideration, one that ended quickly when Matt growled a warning, you muttered a quiet, “fuck it,” and did a half turn, throwing your leg quickly over him so you had a knee on either side of his shoulders. Then you walked back a step or two on your knees, Matt’s free hand taking the meat of your thigh in his grip. It was difficult to figure out just where you needed to be to get the angle right. All you could see from this angle was his body stretched out like a long, open road before you, his other hand still stroking roughly at his cock, his knees bent, feet braced so he could rut lazily up into his grip. You didn’t really know where to put your hands, so you settled for placing them against the broad line of his chest, using them to brace yourself as you tentatively adjusted.

Matt, however, had lost his patience.

With a snarl, he let go of his cock. Both his hands caught your hips, and with one hard yank he wrenched you down, burying his mouth against your pussy as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

You both let out a sharp moan, Matt’s far more muffled than yours. There was no gentleness now, no parting you with his fingers to tease you with the tip of his tongue before settling in. Instead, it was something ravenous and filthy, animalistic, Matt’s mouth open wide as he licked and sucked at your folds and slit, greedily drinking up every last drop of your arousal he could find. For a moment you forgot what your plan had been. Your head fell to rest against his abdomen, your lips parted on a whine as Matt devoured your slick with heavy grunts and rumbles of approval, your hips starting to rock against his mouth. He was eating at you with everything in him, no thought given to things like air, based on his hitched breathing and muffled groans. He’d told you once, lips curled into a smirk, his chin still wet with your arousal, that if he died between your thighs, well, he’d consider that death a victorious one.

“Mm—Matt, oh god, please,” you whimpered, your fingers curling against his skin, red lines left in your wake.

Apparently satisfied that he’d taken in everything he could get, Matt tipped his head down just a hair, using his grip on your hips to adjust you until his tongue found your clit. With a purr, he began to lap warmly, steadily at it, over and over and over again, every now and then pursing his lips to kiss at it with a fond affection that was almost tender. The attention to your clit made your eyes flutter shut, quiet whimpers escaping you with each pass of his tongue, your body clenching in want. At the fresh trickle of wetness, Matt groaned in delight. “Taste so good, sweetheart, all mine,” he slurred warmly, syllables thick and sounding almost drugged, before his tongue found you again, falling right back into his aphrodisiac of choice. As he did, his body began to shift beneath you, before settling into a steady rocking. Startled, your eyes fluttered open, and you glanced down his body. What you saw made your mouth fall slack.

Matt had begun to roll his hips, rutting up in lazy waves. At first you thought it might be an invitation, a reminder, but as you watched you quickly realized what he was doing. With every flex and buck of his hips, he managed to rub his cock against his abdomen, just a little. You could already see the smears of precum pooling in the lines and grooves of flexing muscle, and that only made each successful contact smoother, Matt’s moans against your cunt growing stuttered and hoarse. It likely wouldn’t have been enough sensation for anyone else, but for Matt and his senses, it was just enough to drive him further upwards, his thick thighs starting to tremble. Hell, he was probably enjoying it, considering how he liked to tease himself.

Fortunately, it was also a reminder of what you’d wanted to do.

You quickly stretched out above him, headed for your goal. Your hips shifted just a little as you did, and Matt let out a low, possessive growl, his hands tightening on your hips in a warning. He didn’t like the idea that you might pull away before he was done, you had a feeling.

“Relax.” You choked out a shaky laugh, lowering your head to kiss fondly at the crest of his hip. Your affection softened his growl to a gentler, contented groan. “Just-just trying to get to you.” He seemed soothed by that, at least. Then again, maybe he just wasn’t listening, far too focused on your cunt to really hear you. Either way it didn’t matter, because you’d finally maneuvered yourself to where you’d wanted to be. You braced one hand shakily on his thigh, some of your weight settling down on top of him. His chest rose and fell on a happy sigh beneath you, more than happy to have you sprawled out over him. It also meant his cock was now in range of your mouth.

It was even more tantalizing up close, flushed, wet, and practically begging for your attention even if Matt’s mouth was otherwise occupied. You eagerly caught the base of it, wrapping your fingers tight around it. Beneath you he let out a grunt, his tongue faltering against your clit. You had no interest in waiting any longer, so without a second’s hesitation you dipped your head and stuck out your tongue, catching one of the drops of precum rolling down the shaft. From there you rose with one long drag along his length, following that damp trail back up to his tip like you might a melting drop of ice cream. The moment your tongue swept over the head of Matt’s cock, he let out a startled moan, one that morphed into a hoarse cry when you lapped warmly at his slit, chasing the taste of him, taking in every fresh drop that welled up beneath your attention. It had been far too long since you’d gotten to taste him like this, bitter and salty in equal measure, the scent of musk and sex so much stronger here.

“God,” he choked out, squirming beneath you, his hands practically clawing at your hips. His head dropped back and away from your cunt as he gasped up to the ceiling, breath hitching on a high moan as the strokes of your tongue grew more firm. “Ah-ah! Your mouth, sweetheart, I need it, just—”

Time to see if you could break him before he broke you.

You dropped your mouth open wide before starting to slide him into your mouth, using your hand at his base to angle him and make it a little easier. But easier was… relative.

Shit, you thought with a low moan, one that had Matt crying out behind you. He was so fucking thick, broad enough that you felt a faint ache in your jaw, saliva already leaking out past the corners of your mouth to drip down his length. There was no graceful way to swallow him down, but the sensation of your saliva rolling down his shaft, your stifled huffs through your nose as you slowly worked your way down his cock had him absolutely wrecked. His body trembled beneath you, his hips jerking in an only barely aborted attempt to thrust up into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. He actually whined when you gave him your first little suck, and those whines only grew in number as you did it again, his panting music to your ears, so wet you were practically dripping down onto him. And maybe you really had, because before you could blink, he’d yanked your hips back down. This time, however, he brought his hands around so he could use his thumbs to part your body for him. With a wild moan, he’d buried his mouth against your slit, licking hotly at your opening over and over until he’d managed to worm his tongue inside you.

Your eyes rolled back at the feel of his tongue lapping eagerly at your inner walls, his chin grinding roughly against your clit. He’d burrowed in so hard against you it was if were intent on drowning, on latching onto you and never letting go. The angle was perfect, and you found yourself grinding down instinctively against his face, riding his tongue inside you and the stubbled texture of his chin, chasing your pleasure just as you were seeking his. His delighted moan as you started to use him the way he wanted was so muffled you swore he shouldn’t have been able to breathe, but still you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, whining around the length of him in your mouth as he slurped deeper, your thighs locking up around his head, his skin slick with you. He was dangerously close to coming based on the way his cock had started to throb against your tongue, and you weren’t much further behind, but he was clearly aiming to get you there first.

No.

No, you wanted to ruin him too. Focus, just a little more. You clumsily lifted your head halfway up before skating back down to meet your hand around his base. Neither of you were coordinated enough to make this last much longer, too distracted by the rising waves of pleasure, but that didn’t matter. You knew his body. You could outlast him, by a few seconds at least. But to do that, you’d need one more thing. So, determined to win, you quickly worked your free hand down past his cock, pausing to knead briefly at his sac just for the way it made him moan roughly against your cunt before you drifted past it. You didn’t slide your fingers inside him—something you both hadn’t tried quite yet—but you did curl one finger and press your knuckle up gently just behind his balls, indirect pressure against that spot deep inside him.

His back arched so sharply and suddenly beneath you he almost managed to throw you off, and his choked gasp hit air as he threw his head back. With a shaky whine, he ground down desperately against your finger before snapping his hips up, clearly torn between the wet suction of your mouth around his cock and the firm pressure against his prostate. But unlike last time he’d thrown his head back, this time you followed his mouth with your hips. You were too close to that edge now to go without it, especially not with the noises he was making—whimpers and broken moans, slurred pleas—so you tried desperately to find his lips again, grinding down against his face. And though you were reluctant to let him go, you still managed to tear your mouth off his cock just long enough to gasp out, “Fuck, Matt, please!”

Your begging dragged him up out of his haze, and he hunted for your clit with his lips and tongue, licking at your cunt until he finally found it. He closed his lips around it just as you did the same to the head of his cock. Two warm pulls of your mouth to match his, and with one more shove of your finger against that spot inside him, he cried out and came hard into your mouth in salty, bitter waves that tasted like fucking satisfaction. His hoarse moans, desperate and so very needy wound up pushing you the rest of the way. Matt’s tongue lapped sloppily against your clit, and with a moan that matched his, you joined him in falling over the edge, your body tightening and releasing in a rolling tide of pleasure that left you floating, whimpering his name around his cock. He quickly shoved his mouth against your slit, grunting as he greedily drank down everything your body gave him.

You thought you were done, then, your chest heaving, your thighs shaking as the waves began to ease into aftershocks. Matt nuzzled roughly at your clit, his tongue brushing over it almost curiously. Abruptly he moaned, dragging your hips back down. “Don’t stop,” he rasped hoarsely, yanking your hips back down. Just like that, his mouth was on your clit again, which was great except that you still hadn’t quite finished the last orgasm. The sudden rush of overstimulation before you could fully come down left you shaking, clawing wildly at his thighs, but your squirming got you nowhere, your hips firmly held in an iron grip.

Don’t stop.

There wasn’t much you could do but follow the instruction.

You moaned and began to suck clumsily at him, the velvet softness of his cock cradled gently on your tongue. The noise he let out was strangled and hoarse, almost pained, because this had to be too much for him, it had to be, and yet… he couldn’t resist starting to rock up instinctively against your mouth, a broken whimper breathed against your cunt when you managed to probe your tongue against the tip of him. You knew, distantly, remembered that you’d had this plan: if you did this fast enough, did this just right, using his senses to your benefit, you could make him come again. And, well, it had helped before, so you slipped on hand down between his legs again, grinding your finger hard against that spot inside him in steady waves, sucking harder at his cock just for the way it made him writhe. His head snapped back against the pillows, his hands dropping away from you to fist in the sheets. He brokenly cried out your name, his thighs trembling, but you didn’t care, your goal in sight. One of these days you were going to get your fingers inside him to see what noises he made then, and just to taunt him, you hooked and curled your fingers against his soft skin, your message clear.

You weren’t sure who was more startled when he came—you, or him—but either way, he did, his cock only half-hard at best as he snapped his hips up, his body locking up as he spilled into your mouth. He made a sound you’d never heard from him before, one part shout and one part high, hitching moan, the sounds rising falling with each jagged wave of pleasure you dragged him through, almost enough to hide the sound of tearing fabric. There wasn’t much left for his body to give, granted, but you still accepted those few drops anyway, swallowing them down with a satisfied moan as you milked him dry, massaging your fingers against his cock and that spot inside him to drag it out. You didn’t stop until his sounds grew pained, and even then it was a struggle. You had to force yourself to lift your head, sitting back against his chest. The sudden return of pressure against your clit made you whimper, your body shaking, because despite the overstimulation, as predicted he’d managed to shove you up far enough again that you were hanging right on the edge again, orgasm just a breath away.

“Matt,” you choked out, not even sure what it was you needed—his hand maybe, or even just for him to hold still so you could ride some part of him, be it his chest or his abdomen. One glance over your shoulder, however, let you unsure of what he might be able to give.

Matt’s head was still thrown back on the pillow, his wet mouth hanging open as he panted, hair damp and sticking up in every direction. His eyes were glazed over and dark, absent any real awareness or thought. You knew that look. It was one you usually only saw when you’d really managed to fuck him senseless or leave him wrecked. He was out of it, his senses momentarily overloaded, out of order, come back later. You quickly pulled yourself off of him, just in case your weight over him had been unpleasant. He’d need some time to come back to himself, but fortunately, sitting here and staring at what you’d done—Matt Murdock, fucked out and drunk off your body—would be just the sort of visual you needed as you took care of yourself. You dropped one hand, sliding it between your legs until you could circle your clit with your fingertips, your lips parting on a satisfied moan. It wasn’t as good as Matt, but it was good enough.

Or… that’s what you thought you’d do, until Matt’s head snapped in your direction. His hand darted up, grabbing for you.

Except that he missed, his hand snatching at the empty air about two inches to your left.

“Matt,” you huffed shakily, using your other hand to take his. He probably just wanted to stay close, he usually did when you got him like this. “I’m-I’m fine, just, unh, gonna fini—Matt!”

Your hand brushing against his had apparently been the compass he needed. You abruptly found yourself shoved back onto the bed with a grunt. He was on his hands and knees before you could blink, scrambling and groping around the bed to feel out how you’d fallen, his eyes burning and wild. The moment he made contact with you again, he shoved his head forward with a growl, mouthing at you, licking, biting at whatever skin he could find, which happened to be your ribs, the nip of his teeth sharp enough to make you cry out. You knew that you knew you’d have a mark there tomorrow, one to join the bruises on your hip. But it clearly wasn’t the part of you he’d been aiming for, and he snarled in clear frustration, swinging his head back and forth in a failed attempt to orient before he managed to find your hips with his hands. Your own hands wound up tangled in his hair as he dragged himself roughly over your legs, and fuck, if he was offering, you were happy to take it. You canted your hips, tugging at his hair to direct him. “Here!” you gasped, pushing his head down between your thighs. “Here, Matt, right—”

He buried his face sloppily against your cunt again, not a hint of shame or hesitation in him. His furious, messy lapping at your clit was exactly what you needed. The sound you made was raw and torn, almost a shriek as you suddenly got the stimulation you’d been looking for, your body tightening in rapid waves beneath his mouth. He caught your clit between his lips, growled, and sucked hard enough to have you seeing stars. That was it for you, your back arching as you fisted your hands tightly in his hair and came across his tongue, a flood of wetness drenching his face. With every pulsing wave of pleasure, he let out a satisfied little rumble, sucking in time with the rhythm of your body, dragging your orgasm out until the world burned white. The moment those waves began to ebb, he switched to broad flat licks along the entire length of your cunt, moaning and mindlessly drinking up every last drop, his eyes falling half closed in apparent bliss.

Which was nice. Until your body started to request a break.

“Matt,” you choked out, trying to shift away. He instinctively followed, blearily keeping his mouth latched onto your cunt, the pressure on your clit almost painful now. “Matt, that’s—fuck—I need a break, sweetheart, please! Matt!”

The sharp call of his name seemed to snap him out of it, and he finally let you go with a groan. He didn’t get very far, though. All he did was tip his head sideways until it landed on your thigh with a soft thump.

You let yourself breathe for a minute, twitching now and then when an aftershock rolled through you. When you were feeling a little more able to focus, you finally lifted your head to glance at him. “That,” you wheezed, still panting, “was… we need to do that again. But in… in a while.”

He blinked slowly at you, blissed out and lazy as a lion who’d just had a meal. He hadn’t moved from your thigh, his face still shining and absolutely drenched. Then he grinned. The expression was so absolutely, drunkenly smug that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I take it you’re ok, then?” You snorted, reaching down to stroke your fingers down his wet cheek.

He blinked at you again, and there was a brief delay before his head turned and he nudged affectionately at your hand. Sometimes when his senses got too overloaded after sex, he needed a few minutes without touch to come down. This time, however, it seemed like touch was what he wanted.

“You wanna come up here and listen to my heartbeat until your senses are all back online?”

He seemed to think that over for a minute before he slowly started to drag himself up your body. He didn’t even bother to lift his head from you, simply dragging it along your skin as if he were loathe to lose the sensation of you against him. He only ran into a slight hiccup when he bumped into your breasts. He nosed around for a second, huffing briefly, before he found the space between them and continued on. “You’re drunk as hell,” you choked out a laugh, as he rubbed his ear fondly back and forth over your sternum, hunting for whatever spot sounded best. “You’re legitimately pussy drunk. God, I love you.” He finally selected his spot on your chest, his head dropping down to lay against it. The rest of him followed shortly thereafter as he settled down on top of you with a long groan of satisfaction. He rumbled out a contented sigh as you got your fingers in his hair, stroking through the sweat-soaked strands. One of his hands fumbled its way down to your hip. He kneaded clumsily at it, your affections very much returned. “Mhm. Love you, too.”

“Little more coherent?” “Mm. You taste good.” “So do you. Don’t make me wait so long to get my mouth on you again.”

“Mhm,” he sighed. He absently licked his lips, before purring quietly, his eyes falling shut. “I promise. We’ll share.”

399 notes · View notes

cosmic-whispers · 1 year ago

Text

Control - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel attacks you after being mind controlled by an enemy with daemati powers and struggles to grapple with the guilt that follows.

Warnings: angst, violence, reader being strangled and attacked, mind control

Words: 6.0k

A/N: Hi everyone! It’s been a while since I’ve posted here, life has been crazy lately and writer’s block doesn’t help. I missed writing and was finally able to get this out. Hope you all enjoy!

Your breath came out in heavy pants and your legs burned as you ran through the thick foliage of the jungle. Eldric, the daemati high fae you and Azriel had been tracking for the last week, turned a sharp corner and you pushed your legs harder, ignoring the burning ache in your thighs. You groaned in frustration after his image disappeared around the corner. He had evaded you again.

You slowed to a stop, knowing the pursuit was pointless. Your shoulders slumped and you ran a hand down your face. The sound of flapping wings filled your ears as Azriel broke through the branches hanging overhead and descended near you. A soft hand landed on your shoulder, the thumb rubbing soft, comforting circles in the fabric of your leathers.

“Should we look for him again?” you asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, disappointment and frustration shining in his hazel eyes.

“We’ll find him again,” Azriel said.

“He’s good,” you said. And he was. He was cunning, fast, and endowed with the same, rare power as your High Lord. He could be standing right in front of you and you would be none the wiser if he was able to break through your mental shields. He was nearly unstoppable. After a failed assassination attempt on Rhysand—where the male had gotten entirely too close—Azriel and you had decided to hunt him down and eliminate the threat.

“We’re better.” You looked at him. Despite his obvious annoyance, he was confident in his words. You smiled softly at him, admiring his unwavering determination.

“Getting cocky?” He smiled at you, his features lightening up, and he winked at you. You laughed, nervous as your cheeks heated up and your heartbeat increased. You looked away, hoping he did not notice just how flustered he made you.

“I enjoy the challenge. Things were getting too easy.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him.

“I have a shadow tracking him. This is his home, we have him cornered. We’ll get him soon.”

Despite his comforting words, the brief thought that you were on Eldric’s playing field crossed your mind. That perhaps he was toying with the both of you. You didn’t dare speak that into existence. You nodded at Azriel and you turned, retreating together through the thick underbrush until Azriel was able to fly the both of you out.

The small inn you were staying at was stationed near the jungle's edge. The flight there was short and you relished being in Azriel’s strong arms as long as possible.

The room was small, the single bed pushed against a wall and a tiny restroom where Azriel’s wings barely fit in off to the side.

“You can freshen up first,” he offered and you smiled, grateful to get the sweat and grime off your skin.

You walk into the dingy, cramped room, grimacing at the tiny tub you had been forced to squeeze into for the past week. You closed the door behind you and your face heated at the lack of a lock. The only thing separating your body from his was one thin piece of wood without a lock. You prayed to the Mother that he could not scent the sudden arousal that flooded you in unrelenting waves, surprised at your own self-control for the past week.

You forced yourself through the aimless bathing, preparing yourself for bed, and trying to distract yourself from the indulgent thoughts of him. You blushed as you slipped the silk nightgown Mor had packed for you over your head, wondering if Azriel had taken notice of the contour of your figure through the thin fabric.

You stepped out of the restroom, eyes immediately finding Azriel’s. His gaze trailed down over your body and you felt every cell in your body ignite. He was silent for a few seconds, causing butterflies to erupt within you.

His eyes met yours once more, intense and unreadable, and heat crept up your neck and face.

“The restroom is free,” you said, needing to break the heavy silence. Your voice was quiet and you hoped he could not hear the quiver when you spoke.

He nodded, gaze still unwavering from you. You stared back until he cleared his throat and made his way into the restroom. You let out a heaving breath, hoping to shake the tense nerves. You distracted your thoughts away from him as much as you could, getting ready and climbing into the bed. The bath water ran muffled through the door and your thoughts wandered. He was naked, with just a wooden door with no lock in between the two of you. You felt your body heating and hoped that sleep would overtake you soon.

The water shut off after some time and he exited the bathroom. He was shirtless, tan skin glistening from the steam of the bath and the hot climate. Your breath caught at the sight of his defined, rippling muscles and the swirls of tattoos adorning his skin. No matter how many times your eyes were blessed by the sight, you found yourself struck dumb every time.

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking at you with his brow furrowed. “You seem flushed.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you hoped he could not notice the bashfulness that filled you.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired and it’s warmer here than I’m used to. I’ve been away from home for too long”

You quickly faced away from him, laying on your side and moving as close to the edge of the bed as possible. You focused your thoughts on your breathing rather than the male, trying to calm yourself. There was shuffling behind you and you felt the bed dip as he laid down next to you. Your heart was racing and it nearly beat out of your chest as he shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, pinning you against him. Your skin felt electric, set alight by the feel of his rough hands and the weight of his arms around you.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he murmured, his gravelly voice close to your ear sending rippling shivers down your spine. He had to be doing it on purpose. He was the most observant person you knew. How could he not realize the effect he had on you?

You gulped and gently cleared your throat. “Good night, Az.”

Neither of you had ever spoken about it. You were the one that was able to pull him from the dark crevices of his mind. And he was the one who was able to comfort you when no one else could. He was your safe place when your walls crumbled around you. You trusted him more than anyone. The lingering tension was always heavy, but your friendship was sacred and you had formed an impenetrable bond you were unwilling to break.

His arm tightened around your middle, pulling you tighter against his warm body. His shadows swirled around your hands, softly tickling your skin and you sighed, content and finally relaxed as his soft breaths lulled you to sleep.

————-

The bright moon shined through the window, illuminating the dark room in a soft, silver light. His thoughts raced through his mind—barely forming before another took its place. Between the feel of you in his arms in that damn nightgown and the elusive daemati, he knew it would be another sleepless night.

Despite the comfort of you safe in his arms, Azriel couldn’t sleep. The taunting, smug smile of the daemati male haunted his mind and he simmered in anger. It shouldn’t be so hard to catch him. It shouldn’t have taken him this long. The male should never have gotten that close to Rhysand in the first place. He should have never let it happen.

He needed to prove himself—to redeem himself. After centuries of honing his skills, Azriel had an appreciation for his powers. He was confident in his ability to serve his court. He was a capable spy, his shadows giving him an edge over most adversaries. But the whispers in his mind would never be fully silent—he would always be that scared little boy, desperate to prove that he was good enough to deserve everything he had.

And after a week of tracking Eldric, he was still nowhere closer to catching him. It felt like he was chasing smoke. It felt like he was failing.

You sighed softly in your sleep, turning in his arms to face him and you snuggled your face into his chest. His eyes turned to you and softened at your peaceful expression. Your presence always calmed him, centered him.

His heart beat wildly in his chest and soared at having you like this. He smiled softly, memorizing the feel of you and your soft breathing in his ears. The past week had been bliss—sleeping with you in his arms and having you so close to him.

Your sweet scent drifted toward him and he reveled in the essence of you—his best friend. He trusted you like no one else; he was able to confide in you with secrets that not even his brothers knew. He found himself falling for you more each day. He knew that friends don’t look at each other like you did. Deep down, he had strong suspicions about who you were to him, but he never dared to think about it too much—too afraid to be wrong and disappointed. It was wishful thinking to believe that you were fated to him.

He sighed, knowing he was too strung up to fall asleep. He gently moved you to your side of the bed, making sure you were comfortably tucked in. His scarred hand tenderly caressed the side of your face, your soft skin feeling delightful against his. He admired your features for a moment, wondering how someone could be so beautiful. He shook the thoughts away, making sure you were safe and snuggled before he stood, slipped into his leathers, and left the room.

The darkened halls of the inn were eerily quiet, the patrons and staff asleep. His siphons cast a light blue light, guiding his way outside. He was too restless and needed to leave, to do something useful instead of lying down and being consumed by his thoughts. He could get some work done.

He made his way through the dense undergrowth, footsteps silent and shadows shrowding him in darkness. They easily guided him closer to where he knew Eldric tended to camp, to where his gray shadow had followed him. He secured his mind shields, building them up, ensuring that the male would not sense him. The moon had shifted in the sky and Azriel estimated he had been walking for nearly an hour when he found the secluded campsite. It was almost impossible to see, his belongings nestled at the entrance of a tunnel in the ground, covered by leaves and branches. He hid in the darkness the massive trees provided, his shadows helping shield any part of him that light would reveal.

It was dark, but Azriel could make out light smoke from a small campfire, and the scent of cooked meat permeated the air. He had been there recently. He watched the entrance to the tunnel intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. Was there another entrance he could use to ambush Eldric? He sent a shadow to investigate and continued his surveillance. He stood silently and immobile for over an hour without even a hint of the damn daemati anywhere near.

The shrouding silence of the night was interrupted by a shrill scream coming from somewhere behind him. His heart leaped into his throat, beating wildly as panic crept up in his chest. He knew that voice.

It was you.

His mind emptied of all thoughts as he took off in the direction he heard you from. Why were you here? He had left you peacefully sleeping in bed. He was panting hard, heart nearly beating out of his chest as pure fear spread through him. His body was sweating and he found it increasingly hard to take a deep breath in as if he was being suffocated.

His legs wouldn’t carry him fast enough and his wings kept getting in his way. He screamed in frustration as he twisted in between a thick gathering of trees. Was he even heading in the right direction? His shadows had been dispersed to search for you, but it was taking too long for them to return to him.

“(Y/N)!” he called out. He knew it was risky and that his position would be revealed if Eldric was anywhere near him. But he was desperate to find you.

“Azriel!”

He bolted to his left, your voice guiding him to you. He reached a small meadow, the lush ground free of trees and sprinkled with vibrant flowers and rock formations. His eyes immediately found you, tied to a tree at the other end of the clearing. Your shoulders shook as tears ran down your face as you looked at him and smiled in relief.

“You found me,” you said softly, teary-eyed and vulnerable.

“Always,” he whispered and rushed to you. His shadows appeared, swarming around him, whispering frantically. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, voices becoming deafening and he ordered them away as he reached you. He kneeled and his hand lifted to where thick rope held your wrists together. As his skin was about to brush against yours, you vanished like mist in his hands. He choked on air, distressed, and confusion filled him as you disappeared from right in front of him.

“It was really too easy.”

Azriel’s blood ran cold and his muscles clenched. He turned, finding himself face-to-face with Eldric. He reeled his shadows close to him, preparing for a fight against the male. Eldric was relaxed, his shoulders slumped slightly and he leaned casually against a tree.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“Seems like I’ve found your weakness, Shadowsinger.”

Rage was a burning, eviscerating fire within him and he snarled at the daemati, like a wild animal. The male laughed, smug and taunting.

“Where is she?”

“I’m not quite sure. I assume asleep at the inn, right where you left her. Or perhaps she’s woken up and decided to follow you into the jungle. Would not be her best idea–but I suppose that’s why you like her so much. You’re both fools.”

“I will kill you if you hurt her. And I’ll make sure it’s slow.” His fists clenched at his side, his nails leaving deep imprints on the palm of his hand. He fought to stay in control and focused.

“Me? Hurt her?” Eldric laughed, acting offended at the accusation. “I think the one you should be worrying about is yourself.”

In a split second, Azriel had the terrorizing realization of what was about to happen. What he might be forced to do. And no training with Rhysand could prepare him against someone who had honed his abilities for centuries and was willing to destroy his mind.

He tried to resist with every ounce of strength in him, but the talons shredded the shields protecting his mind like a knife through butter. A sharp pain exploded in the forefront of his mind and he screamed in agony as it spread across his entire skull. He was barely aware of falling to his knees and his hands clutched his head, pulling tight against the black strands. His mind was being invaded, the parasitic presence tainting his memories and thoughts and he sobbed. His last thought before the darkness set in was of you.

—-------------

One Hour Earlier

You paced the length of the dark room for the hundredth time, it seemed. You were surprised the ground beneath your feet did not catch on fire. You had awoken almost an hour ago, a brief moment of panic and disappointment filling you as you found the space beside you empty. You cursed the innkeeper for not having a bigger room with another bed. Despite relishing in the feeling of being in Azriel’s arms, you had grown accustomed to his presence and comfort and now were having a difficult time sleeping without him.

You realized pretty quickly that the Shadowsinger had probably gone looking for the daemati alone. He had tried numerous times throughout your stay to go out on his own, claiming he was protecting you or not wasting time. Stubborn Illyrian baby. He was going to get himself killed.

You wished you had daemati powers at that moment. You needed to speak with Azriel, see him, and make sure that he was alright before lecturing him about being reckless. He meant well, you knew that. Yet, the frustration settled low in your chest and you wanted to rip your hair out in distress as your mind dwelled on all the negative possibilities.

You knew him better than anyone. You knew he felt defeated and wanted to catch the damn fae. You knew he felt like he needed to redeem himself, like somehow everything that had happened was his fault for failing to protect Rhysand. He failed to realize that he did protect Rhysand. He stopped Eldric before he could get to the High Lord and has been chasing his tail ever since, getting closer and closer to catching him. Your exasperation with the Illyrian grew like a tightening noose, its relentless grip clutching at you. How could he not see how wonderful he was? Why did he feel like he needed to throw himself into these situations without any backup and risk his own life?

You decided to go looking for him, dressing quickly and grabbing a lantern to light your way. You had to make sure that he was safe.

You hardly knew where to begin searching and figured retracing your steps from earlier in the day was a good place to start. You walked through the dense trees, hoping that a predator was not stalking you in the dark of the wilderness. The soft light from the lantern illuminated the space in front of you and you kept your eyes peeled for anything dangerous you might run into.

You traveled for over an hour, each step spiking your anxious heart and you prayed to find him soon. You find yourself in a clearing, dappled with the flickers of moonlight. Small wildflowers littered the ground, their bright summer colors illuminated by the shining moon above you. You took a moment to admire the scenery before your eyes caught on the soft blue shimmering light emanating from Azriel’s siphons. He faced away from you, but you knew that he was aware of your presence. His spine was straight, body tense and unnaturally still.

“Azriel?” Your voice echoed lightly in the silence of the night, the answering chirps from the bugs and grasshoppers deafening.

He turned to you, steps slow and deliberate.

He glowered at you, a predator locking in on its prey, and you stalled. Fear lit up inside of you for a moment and you took a step back, away from him. You had grown accustomed to his gaze being filled with warmth and softness and the sight of his icy glare sent tremors down your back. He didn't seem to recognize you, his large frame completely still and not a wisp of his shadows anywhere near him.

His gaze remained unwavering, pinning you to the spot for a few more moments until he snarled at you.

“You,” he growled, like a feral animal, his voice dark and coarse. Your eyes widened as he began sprinting full speed towards you, thundering footfalls on the ground bringing you back to reality and you gasped as he reached you. You thought back to all the Valkyrie training and the practice sparring you and Azriel would often engage in, hoping against hope that it was enough to keep you alive.

You swerved to the left as he reached you, using your smaller size to avoid the direct impact from Azriel’s body. While Azriel’s brute strength would easily overpower you, you were agile. He regained his footing, swinging at you and you barely managed to block his arm. Shooting pain radiated down your wrist, and you realized that he had never truly used his full strength against you in training. You would not be able to take him. You knew you couldn’t keep up the cat-and-mouse game for much longer. His Illyrian instincts were intact and he was quick on his feet as he charged at you again, and you were able to avert him once more.

He was much closer to you now, and you took a tentative step away from him. From that distance, you could see his features twisted in rage and the dazed, cloudy look in his hazel eyes. The realization rushed over you like ice water. Eldric. He had broken into his mind. Pure ice filled your veins—his mind was being controlled to hurt you. Your heart clenched and you prayed to the Mother and any gods in the universe that his mind was not lost. That there was still hope of getting him back.

His shadows suddenly appeared, and fear filled you for a brief moment until you noticed they swarmed around his face, momentarily blinding him. He wasn’t using them to attack you–they were attacking him. They were helping you.

You took advantage of his momentary distraction, using the lantern you still had in your hand, and swung, the impact of the metal on his skull echoing in your ears and you smelled the hint of metallic blood. He was still standing upright, trying to fight off the blinding shadows. One wrapped around your wrist, trying to pull you away, but you stood your ground. You could not leave him like that.

You swung the lantern again, hoping to knock him out with the impact, but his large, scarred hand flew out and wrapped around your wrist, the tight grip making you whimper in pain as he squeezed harder. You tried to shake him off, aiming a kick toward his groin, but he growled and blindly tackled you to the ground before you were able to get another hit in.

You heard–rather than felt–your head smashing against the hard rock underneath you. Your ears began ringing, the deafening sound and painful pressure building in the back of your head making you delirious and your vision began to blur. You were going to pass out and that realization made you panic.

You knew he was significantly stronger than you, his Illyrian genetics making him near indestructible. You had no hope. You yelled for Rhysand in your head, praying to the Mother that he could hear you from Velaris. Azriel’s large hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing. You looked up at his face–gorgeous, despite the frigid fury that lingered in his features. His empty eyes looked into yours, unseeing and frightening.

The air was trapped inside you, your lungs burning as they begged for air. A stabbing pain spread across your neck as he squeezed harder and tears escaped your eyes. You wanted to beg him to come back to you. You felt your face heat up as the pressure began building further and further in your head. The pulsing pressure intensified and your vision narrowed, a rushing sound filling your ears like a crescendo as darkness greeted you.

———————

Flickers of light danced across your vision. You felt yourself slowly awaken. There were soft, silk sheets beneath you, the air smelled like the cinnamon buns Elain was so fond of baking, and a soft voice drifted near you, reciting lines from a book you had recently read. You forced yourself to blink your eyes open, the light of the window causing them to ache. You groaned and shut your eyes tight in discomfort.

“(Y/N)!” You squinted your eyes open, thankful for the curtains that had just been drawn. You looked up at Feyre as she approached you and grasped your hand.

“We were so worried!”

“What happened? Where’s Azriel? What about Eldric? How long have I been out?” Your voice was raspy, and it felt like needles scraping against your throat when you spoke. You coughed, the burning intensifying, and a sharp headache began forming. Feyre’s hand supported your back as she helped you sit up on the bed and passed you a drink of water and a vial of medication you assumed Madja had left for you.

The cool liquid felt heavenly against your throat and you sighed in relief as the medication began coursing through you, helping clear your mind of the pain-infused fog.

“Please drink it all,” Feyre said. “You’ve been out for two days.” She took the empty glass from your hand and placed it on the nightstand next to you.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked you carefully. She looked at you, eyes soft and brows creased.

You nodded, Her hand tightened around yours and you swallowed the knot that rose in your throat. “Azriel?” you rasped out, your voice weak and thin.

Tears filled Feyres eyes as she looked at you and your heart raced in your chest as dread filled you.

“Rhys was able to get there in time. Eldric managed to break down Azriel’s mind shields and essentially took control of his mind. His goal was to infiltrate Velaris and go for Rhysand using Azriel. Rhys was able to break the control away from his mind and killed Eldric.”

You stared at her, eyes wide and the blood in your veins had gone cold. You knew damn well the damage that daemati powers could cause. His mind could be obliterated. You quickly shook the thought away, desperate for any indication that was not the case.

“Is he alright?”

“He’s…as fine as he can be. He hasn’t left his room since we returned.” Your heart broke for him–for the selfless, kind male you knew who was being consumed by guilt. You rose from the bed, and Feyre startled, gently forcing you back onto the bed.

“What are you doing? You need to rest,” Feyre said.

“I’ve rested for days. I need to see him.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “It might not be safe.”

You looked at her incredulously. How could she ever think that Azriel would hurt you on purpose?

“How can you say that?! You know that if he was in control, he never would have hurt me. He’s not some rabid animal you need to keep away. He’s my best friend and I want to see him. It’s not his fault this happened.” You broke into a coughing fit again and she handed you another glass of water.

“I know that; I do. I just worry about you. At least heal up first. And then we can go see him.” You didn’t miss the fact that she said we.

You sighed, your body exhausted and in pain, and decided to follow along for now. “Fine.”

Madja soon made her way into the room, happy to see you awake and you went through her examination without complaining once despite the haunting thought of Azriel in your mind. You fell asleep early in the afternoon, your body and mind fatigued.

—------------------

You heaved a sigh of relief as you found yourself alone for the first moment since you had awoken. Feyre had stayed by your side, perhaps thinking that you would try to sneak away to see the Azriel. The rest of the Inner Circle trickled in and out until Rhysand had to gently persuade his wife to join him in bed.

As dusk settled and darkness started to take over, you gently rose from the bed. The rest you got during the day did you good, you felt stronger. You opened the door slowly, sneaking your head out to make sure that no one was keeping watch of your room. You quickly walked the length of the hallway, making your way to Azriel’s room.

You stared at the wooden door, feeling anxious and scared of the state in which you would find your friend. You took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door. Silence greeted you and you tried again.

You slowly opened the door and looked inside after there was no answer. The room was pitch black, with no slivers of light making their way through the heavy, dark shadows that surrounded the space. Only a soft blue light emanated from the corner of the room–his siphons. You made your way to him, making your footsteps loud and deliberate, although he probably already knew you were there. He sat on the floor, his back resting against the wall. His shoulders were slumped and wings were pulled taut against his body. He had never looked so defeated.

“Azriel.” You managed nothing more than a small whisper.

He turned his back to you and tears began to blur your vision. He didn’t want to face you. “Why are you here?”

His shoulders slumped and they shook as he took a quivering breath in. His shadows swarmed around him, trying to shield him from you. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

“You shouldn’t be here. If you had any self-preservation, you would leave.”

You shook your head, taking a step closer to him. Your hands longed to reach out to him and comfort him, but you didn’t dare touch him, fearing that he would close himself off more. “I needed to see you. To make sure you’re alright.”

He let out a cynical laugh and you frowned. “I almost killed you, and you want to make sure I’m alright. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You knew he was upset and angry at himself over what happened. You did not doubt in your mind he was trying to push you away. And you’ll be damned if you ever let him do that.

“Azriel, I know that wasn’t you. I’m so sorry for what he did to you.”

He shook his head, still refusing to meet your gaze.

“I don’t want to see you, (Y/N).” The tears escaped your eyes, your heart breaking a million times over.

“Well, too bad. Because I want to see you,” you insisted.

His spine straightened and he turned to you, eyes full of rage and pain, and glistening with unshed tears. There were bags under his eyes, pronounced and dark. He had not been sleeping. “How can you stand to look at me?” he growled at you. “What I did to you–it’s unforgivable. I’m not good for you. I hurt you. Just leave.”

His eyes traveled down your face and stopped at your neck. You heard the breath catch in his throat, and his eyes widened, face growing ashen and he took a step back from you. Shit. You should have checked for bruises and tried to cover them up. Being so preoccupied with thoughts of the Illyrian before you, the thought had not occurred to you.

“Oh, gods,” he whispered, his hands coming up to cover his face in shame. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He stepped away from you, silver lining his eyes. You took a tentative step towards him.

“Az, you’re not going to drive me away. You’re my best friend, I’m never going to abandon you. I want to be here for you.”

His eyes blazed as he glared at you and you could almost feel him vibrating in unbridled rage.

“I almost killed you! How can you not understand that?! I almost—“

You cut him off before he had the chance to continue. “You didn’t, though. I’m still here. I know that you weren’t in control. It’s not your fault, Azriel. I could never blame you for what happened.”

He shook his head, dejected. “Why are you here?” His voice was quiet and small, and you had never heard him speak like that.

“You already know,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the tears flowing down your face. He stared at you, silent and stoic. He was waiting for you to take it back. To turn away and leave him. He knew why you were there despite what he had done. It was the same reason he had promised to always protect you. It was the same reason why you were always so comfortable with each other and why it was always so easy for him to let his walls down when he was around you.

“No,” he whispered, eyes unwavering from yours. “I’m not good for you. And I certainly don’t deserve you. You shouldn’t want that.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and slowly walked towards him, closing the distance between the two of you. He didn’t step away, but his eyes followed you, flickering down to the floor in shame when you got too close. Your hand raised, hovering over his face and you paused, giving him the time to pull away if he wanted to. He stayed still and you pressed your palm softly against his cheek and he sighed, closing his eyes.

“You’re not a monster, Az. I know that. You’re a good male—the best kind there is.”

He shook his head and a tear escaped, trailing down his tan cheek and you gently brushed it away.

“The things I’ve done…” He trailed off, unwilling to put his sins into words.

“You’ve done difficult things for your court, but I know that you don’t take any pleasure in it. You do it because it’s what’s best for everyone. To protect the people you love. What happened was not your fault. Someone took control of you—please don’t blame yourself for that.”

Azriel nodded, his eyes slowly moving up and meeting yours. His gaze flickered back to the dark, hand-shaped bruises around your neck. Your fast healing was already starting to fade them. He raised his hand to touch you, but he pulled back quickly. Your other hand grabbed his, intertwining your fingers and you squeezed his hand in comfort. You brought his hand up to your face, pressing a soft kiss against the scarred skin of his knuckles.

He let out a sob, grabbing you and pulling you tight against him, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame and enveloping you in the scent of mist and cedar. He dug his face into the crook of your neck and his arms tightened around your waist.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, and you hugged him tight, trying to comfort him as he cried.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you whispered, caressing the hair at the nape of his neck.

He shook his head, weeping as he tried to calm his heaving breaths. “Yes, there is. Please.” His voice trembled as he pleaded for your forgiveness and you tightened your arms around him. There was nothing you had to forgive him for, but you knew that he had to hear it. You knew it would help him start to forgive himself.

“I forgive you. I know you would never hurt me.”

“I almost lost you,” he whispered, so low that you almost didn’t hear him. “You’re everything to me. I will never let anything like that happen again, I promise.”

There was something so astoundingly comforting about being held by Azriel, chests pressed together and arms wound around each other. The fact that he let you hold his hand, the feel of his flushed cheeks against your hand. He thought so little of himself and your heart clenched in sorrow for him. You wished he could see himself how you saw him. He brought you peace and relief. He meant more to you than you were ready to admit out loud.

“I know. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be with you.”

It would take so much for him to be able to forgive himself. There was so much you needed to talk about, but you knew the right moment would come along. Azriel needed your comfort and you needed him in that instant.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel

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raven-cincaide · 7 months ago

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Pirates, Kimono and a Compromise

Summary: No one said picking a group Halloween costume for a Halloween party would be easy, even on a large-ish budget. However, no one warned you how much of a pride-wounder it would be when Megumi took over the task from right under your nose.

Pairing: fem!Reader x Megumi Sweetober prompt 7: Compromise WC: 2.3 K Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive and hint at of frat party and inappropriate/vulgar behaviour, Fluff,

“This is stupid.”

“I have to agree with Fushiguro on this one; this costume is tacky and has no taste.”

“ I have no idea why you guys are complaining this is-” Whack “-You’re right. It's tight, itchy, I can’t feel my balls and my- hey!”

You shook your hand after having slapped the back of Yuji’s head before he could say another lewd, obnoxious thing, which would be the final straw in the overworked-underpaid Halloween store assistant repertoire and ultimately result in the four of you being kicked out of another Halloween store. Although, if you had to be perfectly honest, it was unclear who suffered more pain from the slap, your hand or the pink-haired idiot who was already gawking at massive pair of fake boobs. Thankfully, before he could ogle those, Nobara caught sight of him and grabbed the back of his shirt before forcing him to stand like a little kid between herself and more-than-usually-annoyed Megumi.

You sent an apologetic look to the store assistant and took a deep breath to gather the last of your maturity before you turned to face the trio. Hands-on your hips, frown on your lips, and an eye roll accompanying every complaint from the three idiots in front of you, all dressed in polyester knockoff versions of Captain Jack Sparrow.

The eyepatch suited Nobara perfectly; the fake sword was the type Yuji would amuse himself with at the Halloween party. If not to look cool, then at least to join Todo and the other jokes in a ‘sword’ fighting contest which would somehow always end up in dick measuring contest. Megumi was the only one out of place, but you figured he’d be dissatisfied with the option no matter what you picked.

Also, the fact that he put it on felt like a win in your book.

“I don’t know what you three are complaining about” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. “I won last week's event, suggested a group costume, and got Gojo’s credit card and green light to buy whatever. So, from the sounds of it, what I say goes?”

The trio groaned, not necessarily in protest but more in frustration that you didn’t let them cut into your little speech.

“And besides, I’m the most competent of you three; Yuji would pick some dirt or gore, Nobara, your get-up would be complicated and economically ruin even Gojo and Megumi, dear…” You ran your eyes up and down him before delivering a below-the-belt blow to your beloved boyfriend: “.. if it were up to you, we’d be barricaded down in the soundproof cellar reading history books and doing tasks that ‘might be homework’; You’re the last one who’d know how to get ready for a party.”

Yuji and Nobara protested; Megumi, however, snorted, eyes narrowed, pride not just wounded- but annihilated by your words. This wasn’t just embarrassment at his lack of social adequacy or his distaste for parties, Halloween and overall slacking culture. Your comment went beyond that, raising an unmistakable challenge in his eyes.

“Wanna bet?”

You didn’t expect that reaction from him. Flustered? Yes. Blushing, huffing or walking away in frustration? Absolutely. But not such unmistakable cockiness as if you didn’t know one thing about him. Maybe you misjudged him. But you’d be damned if you were going to surrender like that. “You think you can do better than pirate suits for matching group costumes without exceeding our budget?”

“ Half a budget. And it won’t just match; it will be a set.” Megumi stated, stretching his hand out for Gojo’s card. You curled your fingers over it protectively before you sighed and surrendered it.

“If you fail though-” “- I won’t”, Megumi cut you off. “And if I do, I’ll never utter another word about your poor choice of costumes.”

You gaped, mouth opened and closed as Megumi turned on his heel and grabbed Yuji by the back of his costume, dragging the pink-haired man after himself back into the changing room stalls. You and Nobara exchanged a look, half tense and half worried, but went to change out of your costumes as well.

Half an hour later, you left the Halloween store. Megumi was in the lead, Yuji was yapping about all sorts of things they could have as the group costume, and Nobara was throwing in her own two cents. You stayed quiet, half hurt that your friends and boyfriend rejected the pirate idea so vehemently and half determined that Megumi wouldn’t be as good at finding something suitable for a party in the short period you three had. A bitter part of you felt almost sure you would hate his idea.

That sentiment only increased as Megumi led the way further and further from the central shopping district and towards the train station. The confusion increased further as you took a train to the city's outskirts.

You got out near the last station and walked towards a calm, if not on the poorer side, neighbourhood and the seamstress shop smack-dab between the residential area and what looked like an old industrial landscape.

“It’s a shop that works with fabric waste”, Megumi stated as he pushed open the door to the seamstress shop and motioned for you all to go in into the store filled with cloth, clothes and even examples of how an old, worn-out kimono was transformed into a brand new jacket and pant set. “Old kimonos are turned modern, suits relined and fixed up instead of thrown, that kind of thing. The boss had time today to see us.”

As if on cue, two plump women entered the central area, ready to greet you with dresses and suits all over their arms. It didn’t take long for Nobara to be swept up in pearls and gems and for Yuji to gawk at the idea of a tailored suit for himself. Not even moments later he was arms deep in a restored Hugo Boss jacket while Nobara desperately tried to pick between a golden Chanel dress and a Dior blouse.

On the other hand, you felt less impressed, not necessarily by the concept but rather by the fact that Megumi had checked this place out in advance and contacted the seamstresses about their availability. He was waiting for the right opportunity to spring this on you. Obviously, he did not trust your choices even before you had a chance to try to pick a costume for you four. Rather than ruin their mood, you moved to the opposite side of the store and began aimlessly looking through the rolls of material that lined the shelves. Your hands fidgeted with the edges of your sleeves, your lips pulled down into a pout.

“ You’re displeased.” Megumi’s voice came from slightly behind you. A moment later, he stood beside you. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look at him. “If we’re getting a free pass at Gojo’s card, we should get something we can use outside a one-time Halloween party.”

You shoved your hands in your pockets, stubbornly refusing to look at him. A moment of tense silence passed, and you saw out of the corner of your eye how he shifted from one foot to the other, the way his hand twitched then clenched at his side, somewhere between wanting to reach out and touch you and leave you to sulking.

“But then it’s not dress-up”, You muttered finally. You sighed, bit back the disappointment and the unmistakable whiny tone for something at least a little more mature “Then the whole point of Halloween is to get a chance to be what you’re not. This is a cool concept, but suits and dresses can be worn any day of the week. To be a pirate, nun, or devil is ridiculous; that’s the whole point. This is the only time in a year we can poke fun at old childhood dreams and silly fears with no repercussions. Fun without meaning or purpose.”

You saw the unmistakable drop of Megumi’s head, his bangs coming forward to cover his eyes. The tension in his shoulders, the way his body grew rigid at the all too familiar critique, the things that were a point of friction between you, the things you heard Gojo scold Megumi for time and time again: Fun for the sake of fun. Not to consider practicality. Not to plan ten steps. Live in the moment instead of focusing on frugality and meaning.

Be greedy. Be selfish. Be immature,

Megumi shoved his hands back into his pockets. His jaw clenched, his lips set in a firm line so hard they lost their colour. You knew it meant he heard you, and acknowledged your point but didn’t want to back down from his decision. He didn't need your opinion because he had taken Gojo’s card off of you. He could just go and buy whatever he thought was best.

But Megumi didn’t want to fight with you.

He didn’t want to do it in public, and he especially didn’t like the stubborn tension to settle between you two that would last until after Halloween. Maybe even longer, depending on how long you held the grudge: the unmistakable coldness, the less engaged conversations, and the overall hurt feelings from both sides. Megumi didn’t want to rock the boat in an already rocky relationship.

You didn’t want to fight with him either.

But you also didn’t want to feel like an idiot who turned up to a Halloween party where everyone took their time to dress up and look pretty and sexy and scary, and you got there wearing a freakin suit or a prom-looking dress. You wanted to feel childish, fun, maybe sexy, maybe stupid. But responsibility was the last thing you wanted to be on this night.

“I’ll just get my costume,” You said finally, just like him refusing to back down from your standpoint but growing tired of the unmistakable standstill between you two. “You three go together, and I’ll go by myself; if it’s too awkward for you, I’ll just go to another Halloween Party. There are plenty of them this time of year.”

There was an unmistakable shift in Megumi’s demeanour. “No, that’s-”

“- Why don’t we compromise!” You spun around to see Yuji leaning towards you two right over the pile of cloth on the table, clearly having listened in on the conversation between you and Megumi. “Get a fancy suit and dress here and the Pirate costume- Gojo won’t notice!”

“You dimwit, there’s a budget. Both will fly right over!” Nobara huffed, coming closer. “I say we just go elsewhere, a middle ground where we can get a decent suit and a Halloween costume.”

You heard Megumi sigh. “Both ideas suck”, He answered, cutting himself off long enough for Yuji to ask ‘who’s the dimwit now’ Nobara and her violent retaliation, “We should compromise-”

-” Then how is it different from our suggestion?!” Nobara and Yuji yelled, but Megumi turned to you, ignoring the pair completely.-“-How would you feel if we modified your idea a little? A Pirate is a little outdated, but what about a yakuza? ”

You tilted your head to the side, finally looking at him as he motioned towards one of the repurposed Kimono. You must admit that the black material, the inner silk, and the golden thread embroidery were pretty and much more excellent than the pirate suit you all tried on earlier.

“ We can pick the suits with embellishments, forgo a shirt and stick on some temporary tattoos. Maybe add some jewellery as well?” Megumi offered, running a hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to appear calmer than he felt.

You realised he was stretching an olive branch by combining his idea and need for practicality with your desire to dress up and have fun. Letting out a sigh, you nodded slowly, finally approaching the repurposed Kimono into a suit jacket and holding it up towards Megumi. “On three conditions,” You said.

“One, I get to pick your suit” You saw him quirk an eyebrow. Still, he bit his tongue from speaking “, and two, Me and Nobara go as ‘customers’ or wives or whatever” Now it was his lips that quirked up into a hint of a smile as Nobara screamed out a content ‘YES’ at the prospect of getting into one of those fancier looking night-out dresses and ran towards those. Yuji gave you two a thumbs up before he was dragged away to be Nobara’s little ‘pack horse’, aka human hanger, as she picked out the styles she wanted to try.

You found the sight a little amusing, the two idiots and two seamstresses trying to satisfy Nobara’s never satiable demands while also finding something fitting the theme for the oddly-shaped man that was Yuji.

“And the third?” Megumi asked as you began to browse the different suits available, his hand on your arm halting your movements.

“ A kiss”

He blinked at you, his face turning a shade of pink at the thought of a public display of affection, even if no one was looking at you two. “Will I be forgiven then? Oh, fuck it.” Megumi leaned closer; his lips pressed to yours in a not-so-shy kiss that was a far cry from the shy peck you expected.

Maybe Yuji and Nobara were right when they suggested a compromise. You could get used to your disagreements if this was how quickly and sweetly they ended.

Author note: Sometime ago we mentioned in class different companies that repurposed all clothes into something new. I thought of them while writing this fic so.. well.. I guess it just became a responsible-fashion with the trio fic <3 hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @ambiguouslady42 @vividraft @escapistoftherealworld, @ssetsuka Click here for full sweetober masterlist and tag sign-up!

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All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

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jackiescents · 8 days ago

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🩺 Oblivious | S. Mohan x Reader

Summary: You’ve been flirting with Dr. Mohan since your first day, and she’s yet to catch on until you finally tell her after a patient makes a comment

WC: 1.1K

You fiddled with your pen, tapping it against your hand as you stared at the list of patients waiting for further examination. You were too focused on going down the list that you failed to notice Samira coming up next to you.

“See anything interesting,” she said softly, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned your head to stare at her, a moment passing before you finally stuttered out a response. “Y-yeah,” you got out, though you were not referring to a patient.

Since your first day working in the Pitt with Santos, Whitaker, and Javadi, you’d had a crush on Dr. Mohan. You had yet to work up the courage to tell her, instead, you opted to drop some flirty comments here and there, hoping she would eventually pick up on it. However, she had yet to say anything, and now you had to deal with teasing from Santos, who immediately noticed the way you lit up when Samira talked to you.

Samira turned to smile at you, the same bright smile she gave everyone. It made you feel like you were on cloud nine. Before she got the chance to ask anything else, Dr. Robby pulled her aside for assistance, leaving you to wallow in your feelings once again.

You could hear Princess and Perlah whispering by the nurses' desk, undoubtedly gossiping about you and Mohan. You cleared your throat before grabbing a tablet as you headed to check on one of the patients who wasn’t in critical condition. You went through a few patients, getting through some quick examinations before heading back to the main nurses’ desk to return the tablet.

“How’s your day been, Romeo?” Trinity teased as she slid up next to where you were leaning against the desk.

You rolled your eyes as you shot her a look. “I could ask you the same thing,” you threw back, referring to the thing she had going on with Dr. Garcia.

A light blush coats her cheeks as she clears her throat, mumbling a soft ‘whatever’ before walking away. You laughed to yourself at the absurdity of both of you being too nervous to make the next move with the two women you had crushes on. At least in Trinity’s case, she knew Garcia also felt the same way, given how much she was flirting with her on day one.

You made yourself busy until you were needed for an incoming trauma, which then got your undivided attention. You, along with Langdon, Collins, and Whitaker, worked quickly, doing the best you could to save someone’s life. After what felt like hours, but in actuality was maybe twenty minutes, you let out a sigh of relief when you were able to get your patient stable enough to head to surgery.

“Nice save, rookie,” Langdon nodded as he pulled off his white surgical gown and tossed it into a biohazard bin.

You smiled a little, nodding back as you pulled your gown off as well. You took a small break for yourself in the staff lounge to regroup, something you had a habit of doing after a challenging trauma. After sitting for a moment, you exhaled a deep breath and made your way back onto the floor.

“I was just looking for you!” Samira beamed once you were in her line of sight. You blinked a few times, trying to cool your reaction to her statement.

“Y-you were,” you asked, mentally cursing yourself for not being able to get a sentence out without stumbling over your words.

“Yeah! I heard you had a rough trauma and thought you might want a quick and easy patient to help get back on track,” she smiled, holding a tablet against her chest with her crossed arms.

You smiled back at her, thankful for the idea, and nodded softly. “Great! C’mon,” she hummed as she led you to one of the closed rooms.

“Hi, Mrs. Andrews,” Samira greeted the middle-aged woman sitting in the bed. “I’m Dr. Mohan, this is Dr. Y/L/N. What seems to be the issues that brought you in today?” Samira finished as she took a seat on the rolling chair by the bed.

You sent the patient a small smile before she started going into detail about how she hurt her wrist playing with her children. You let Samira lead, following whatever orders she gave you while she made notes in the woman’s chart.

You and Samira worked well together, throwing little comments back and forth as you worked. You bit back a small smile whenever she would tease you, playing it off as you wrapped Mrs. Andrews’ wrist in a cast.

“You two are the cutest couple,” the older woman gushed once you were all done with her cast.

You froze in your spot as Samira stuttered out ‘all done.’ You let Samira give the woman further information, still too shocked to say anything coherent. You both smiled at her as you left and made your way back out of the room.

You both stood at the nurses’ desk, both silent for a moment before she turned to face you. “Can you believe she thought we were dating?” Samira laughed softly, though you could tell she wasn’t laughing negatively.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, debating on the best thing to respond with. “I mean,” you started, your breathing picking up slightly. “I have been flirting with you for the past few months,” you shrugged, looking anywhere but at her.

“What,” she gasped softly, her voice low as she looked at you in shock.

You laughed softly before turning back to face her. “Yeah, I was sort of hoping you noticed by now,” you said as you rubbed the back of your neck.

Samira chuckled softly before her laugh got a bit louder, “Oh my god,” she mumbled. “I can’t believe I’ve been too focused on work that I didn’t realize,” she muttered.

You could tell she was replaying every interaction you two have had since your first day in her head. You waited for her to say something, giving her the space to process everything.

“How about I make it up to you by taking you on a date,” she said confidently after a moment of processing.

Your eyes widened slightly at her words. “I-I would like that,” you got out, nodding quickly as you spoke.

“Good. I’ll text you, and we can work something out,” she smiled. This time, her smile felt new, like it was meant just for you.

You smiled back, happy that you finally said something and that it ended with the promise of a date. You were excited to see where this would go, and you didn’t even care if this meant the teasing from Santos would get worse.

#the pitt wlw #the pitt x reader #samira mohan x reader #samira mohan

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fortheb0ys · 1 year ago

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BOTTOM DOM JOHN PRICE X TOP SUB MALE READER

☆Daddy, I just wanna be your bitch!☆

I know I like to write characters being absolutely cock drunk and fucked stupid but my biggest kink is being treated like I'm fucking stupid dog♡

CW: dumbification (reader), pet play, pet names (daddy & puppy) USED ALOT, age-gap, crying during sex, face slapping, reader is inexperienced in sex NOT PROOFREAD AND KINDA RUSHED AT THE END

FEM ALIGNED + MINORS DNI

I'm just imaging Price having to bark orders at you all day just to do the same in bed. You're brain goes absolutely empty and Price has to tell you how to do EVERYTHING. He's slightly displeased with himself for failing for such a young and inexperienced man but his love for you outweighs it.

You're clumsy as you try to finger him open. Price gets so frustrated that he offers to do it himself but you're so eager to please that you insist. You take what feels like forever to work him open, overestimating him in the process. Being feed up, Price would take matters into his own hands. He'd sit with all his weight on your chest and his back facing you, taking the breath from your lungs, as he fingers himself open.

His ass is so close to your face but Price orders you to keep your hands away. You grip tightly at his thighs, squeezing and scratching, as you whimper like a kicked puppy.

"Puppy, calm down. Daddy, trying to show you how it's done."

Price would wrap his hand around your dick as he multi-tasks between jerking you and fingering himself open. Much like the rest of your body, your cock is massive. Price's mouth waters at the thought of being stretched full around it but training you to use it was the difficult part. Such a monster of a cock but you were too stupid on how to use it.

Once Price was ready, he sank on your cock. The stretch was deliciously painful. Before he was even remotely close to being ready to move, you began bucking your hips up. He lets out a pained moan and tells to stop. His orders fall on deaf ears as you try to chase your own pleasure, completely forgetting about Price. Unsure of how to stop you, Price lands a hard slap across your left cheek.

Tears prick your eyes as you immediately stop snd bring a hand to your now red cheek. Before Price could apologize he feels you twitch inside him.

"Awww does my sweet boy like it a little rough? Does puppy like it when daddy hurts him?" Price says sweetly, his voice having an undertone of mockery.

All that left you throat was another whimper as you nod. Price felt another twitch inside his tight walls.

"Daddy, please you feel so good." More tears threaten to leave your eyes. Price looks into your eyes, a pathetic look adorns your face. The sight was amusing. You laying there, your hips wiggling ever so slightly and tears in your eyes. Price felt so good around you. His walls velvet soft. He was really teaching you patience.

"Daddy knows but you need to behave and stay still. You feel a lot bigger than you look and you're a big boy, puppy." Price cards his fingers through your hair to calm you down.

You whine as try stay impossibility still to please Price. Small huffs of impatience and both your ragged breathing was the only noise in the room.

Once Price started bouncing, what felt like an electric shock riddled your body. Like taking a hit of drugs, a high over takes washes over you.

His strong legs flex as he works himself on your cock. You lift your hips to meet him halfway with needy thrusts. His moans drive you deeper into madness. His pupils are blown with lust and you know yours are the same. A predator's smile across his face.

"Harder, puppy. I like it just as rough as you."

Without second thought and bruising strength, you grip his hips and slam into him. Price lets outs a small grunt. A slight blush dusts his face. He got want he wanted.

His movements never falter as your pace picks up. A challenging look appears in his eyes. His walls contract around you. You've never felt something as wonderful as being inside your captain, the way your cock dragged through him. He looked so good doing it. Like you were made to be him inside him.

His tits bounced along were him. Price's nipples were just as eye catching as he was. Pink and erect. Standing out from his hairy chest. The need to pinch , suck or just have your hands all over them became too strong. Your hands quickly found themselves groping at them.

Price let's out a grunt and your hands immediately pull away thinking you had done something without his permission.

"Go on, puppy. I'll let ya."

Sitting up, you go to work on his chest. Your lips sucks at one nipples as your fingers pinch at another. This encouraged you to pound harder into him. You loved the way his hair felt against your clean shaven face.

Price tries to keep his composure but finds it hard when your lapping at his chest as well as pounding hard into him. On top of that his his legs were beginning to hurt. He was so close. The knot in his stomach grew with each passing second. It was evident that you were as well. Your whimpers grew louder.

His moans were your favorite part. Breathy yet so deep, they rattled your bones.

"You close, doll?" Price asks while trying to get your attention off his chest by petting your messy hair down.

Your eyes are now on Price's face, but it's clear you didn't understand him. Eyes unfocused, you shake your head. Not to give him an answer but to ckear your sex fogged mind. It takes a prolonged moment for your brain to catch up to your mouth. You didn't trust that if you were to open it, that a moan wouldn't escape your lips.

"Yeah. R-really close." You managed to only whisper out.

A few more thrusts and you finished inside him. Price coming untouched, cum covering his hairy chest. You both lay panting, trying to catch your breath. Your forehead rests against Price's chest. His heartbeat rings loudly in your ears.

Once the high slightly settles, you look up to his face. God, was he so beautiful.

The way Price's mouth was slightly open. His tongue touched the back of his teeth, slipping to past his lips. The rise and off of his chest.

Just thinking how someone so perfect as your captain could love someone like you. A young kid, early into your military career and a decorated solider.

Did he love you? Could he love you the same way you did to him? The way he was your breath in your lungs, unable to live without.

You once again begin to tear up. This time to fall down your cheeks. Why you were such a crybaby after sex and not otherwise was something you could never get the answers for?

"Baby, Y/N? What wrong?" Price stopped moving and settled his weight on your pelvis. He dropped the pet names, was he angry? His voice was still smooth like honey. There was no malicious. Just love.

"Daddy, I'm sorry. I'm so s-sorry. Love you. L-Love so much."

You pull him down till your head is buried into his neck. Sobbing as you try to catch your breath. Price's hand finds it's place on the side of your head, and a thumb rubs gently over your ear.

"It's okay, puppy. You know, daddy loves you?" He knew how emotionally unstable you could be. Doubting every step you took without guidance. He promised that was something he'd never take advantage of.

Your tears stop after a few minutes of crying. Price's gentle touch easing your worries. You look up at him with bright eyes, like tears had never touched them and smile. You give him a sweet peck on the cheek.

"Love you."

"You were such a good boy, but you need more training."

You frantically nod. There was anything you would want more in the entire world than to be your captain's good puppy.

"Daddy's gonna have ta think of a punishment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, daddy."

As your punishment, Price would put you on a leash a parade you around naked, showing off the numerous bite marks, scratches and hickies. Your cock painfully hard and dripping precum, a vibrating cock ring tightens painfully around it. You're turned on by the humiliation and the fact that everyone knows you're Price's bitch. Whimpers escape your throat as you see soliders eye you up and down. A sharp tug on your leash from Price reminded you to keep your mouth shut.

As a reward for accepting your punishment well, Price will ride you in his office will the door wide open letting people see how much of a well-trained dog you are. Numerous people stop. Some for a moment to look at the source of moans and grunts. Others stop and jerk off at such a sinful sight, just hoping to get the chance to be able to get impale on your dick.

#call of duty mwii #call of duty mw3 #john price x reader #john price x male reader #x male reader #x top male reader #top reader #captain john price

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omnomnomdomcaps · 2 years ago

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Nevermore - Remastered

Another Spooky Season remaster, this time featuring some awesome original art from @spaced-goddess. Go check her blog out!

“Alright now, up we go,” came Mrs. Winthrop’s soft voice, as she picked her onesie-clad student up from the classroom floor and placed her onto her desk, their school principal looking on as she did. “Can’t be having a talk with you while you’re crawling around on the floor.”

Amber didn’t resist. She didn’t say anything, didn’t fight back against her teacher’s choice of words - after all, walking without tripping seemed to have become her latest challenge, and she had the carpet burns on her knees to prove it. Without a word of protest, the girl allowed herself to be picked up and placed on the desk, hiding her blushing face away as much as she could.

This was a far cry from the girl who first arrived in Mrs. Winthrop’s preschool classroom on Halloween day, half a year before. That Amber was headstrong and defiant, fuming constantly that some saboteur had seemingly drugged her and messed with her brain, leading her down a road of failed tests and embarrassing accidents. She was furious that she had to drop out of the college and come here to relearn her basics, and she let everyone around know it.

That Amber was proud. She was sure of herself. And even through all of her setbacks, she was confident. “Whatever,” she would snarl, “fine.I’ll just re-do some stuff and get out of here. I’m still an adult. I’m still better than all these dumb little brats.”

As the school year wore on, though, those “dumb little brats” could actually keep up with their preschool lessons. And Amber? Not so much.

While her classmates learned their numbers and letters and shapes, Amber just stared blankly, trying and failing to understand what the teacher was talking about, only to be distracted by the slightest hint of a pretty bird or a squirrel outside the window. Again and again, those “dumb little brats” ended up having to help her with shape blocks and stacking rings, while they played with their ‘advanced’ toys. Again and again, they would have to remind Amber to use the potty - or, more often, tell Mrs. Winthrop when the girl had an accident.

Maybe, if Amber had known that she was under a witch’s curse, she wouldn’t have been so shocked at how it all turned out. Maybe, if she had heard the incantation, heard that the spell would lower her abilities to the level of her maturity, she would have understood why her stubborn attitude wasn’t getting her anywhere. But of course, these were truths she never would have accepted, or believed.

“Amber, sweetie,” Mrs. Winthrop began, “we need to talk about your progress.”

The girl said nothing. Her face was turned away, her hands hidden between her legs.

“Now now,” the principal chimed in, a stern air of authority in his voice, “your teacher made you a very special potty chart, don’t you remember?”

Amber turned her eyes briefly to the wall, turning them back just as quickly. It was embarrassing for her to think about - the way her teacher had set it all up to help encourage her re-training, the whole class cheering her on like their little sister as she proudly donned her training pants. But of course, her results were anything but encouraging, and she was soon taken out of pullups altogether.

“Do you think you did a good job with your potty training?” Mrs. Winthrop asked.

The girl hung her head in silence.

“And do you think you’ve been doing a good job with your preschool lessons?” the teacher added.

“N-no,” Amber finally muttered, tears beginning to well in her eyes.

“And do you know what we’re going to have to do now?” came the principal, his arms crossed as he stood in front of the girl.

“Am I… Am I gonna havta stay in preschool again next year?” Amber's voice began to crack.

Mrs. Winthrop let out a heavy sigh. “No, honey… I’m afraid it doesn’t look like you’re ready for preschool at all.”

The girl was in shock. “B-b-b-b-” she stammered, “but… but I’m a big girl! I’m a big girl!”

“Oh?” the principal offered flatly, “And what do you think makes you a big girl?”

“‘Cause - ‘cause I’m…” Amber took her hands out from between her legs, trying to emulate the “I’m this many!” gesture that her classmates would often make. She wanted to show that she was nineteen… or was it twenty now? Was twenty more than nineteen? Would she need to use more fingers than the other preschoolers did? After all, she was a lot bigger than they were. But then again, they were a lot smarter than she was…

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Winthrop intervened, motioning the girl’s hands back toward her lap, “I think the poor thing’s gone and confused herself again.”

It was at that moment that another set of footsteps made their way into the classroom, and they belonged to Tom, Amber’s college boyfriend. Through all her failures and misadventures, he was the only one who stuck by her, seeming to enjoy having to take care of her more and more. And now, here he was again to pick her up from school.

“Daddy!” the girl blurted out instantly - he’d encouraged her to start calling him that, and it came naturally to her now - “They tolded me I can’t go preschool! They tolded me I’m not ready! But I’m a big girl! Big girl! Big girl big girl BIG GIRL!!” Amber shrieked, pounding the desk with her balled-up fists as the tears began to stream down her face.

“Oh my,” Tom turned to the two adults, unfazed, “has she been causing trouble?”

“Ah, you know how she can be,” Mrs. Winthrop shrugged, “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for her, trying to keep up with these classes with the level she’s at.”

“Maybe,” Tom nodded, a wry smile beginning to form, “or maybe she just needs a change and a nap.

“Up we go, princess,” he turned to the girl, lifting her from the table and into his arms, “time to go home.”

“BIG GUWL!” Amber kept shouting, hands still waving in the air, “BIG GUWL! BIG GUWL!”

“I’m sure you will be one day,” her boyfriend-turned daddy assured her, patting her padded bottom, “but for now, we’re gonna find you a nice daycare, and first we gotta change you out of that stinky diapy.”

“But I’m not stin-” the girl protested meekly, before freezing halfway through.

That, of course, was when the smell and the sensation hit her. Of course she was stinky - she'd probably filled her diaper while shouting about what a big girl she was, while insisting that she belonged in a preschool where she was nothing more than the pants-pooping laughing stock of the class.

As the last remnants of her pride crumbled away, Amber started to imagine just how far she had left to fall. She wondered, as she was carried away from that classroom for the last time, was she going to be the laughing stock of her daycare, too? It was all too much for her mind to handle, and so the girl simply started to bawl. She cried, helplessly, like the little baby she had become. She cried, helplessly, like the little baby she had now been for months. She cried, helplessly, like the little baby she was going to be for a long, long time.

#ab/dl community #ab/dl caption #diaper captions

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dilfhos · 2 years ago

Text

NO NUT NOVEMBER

#!WHO; GOJO SATORU X F! READER

cc: somnophilia, desperate humping, no nut november theme hehe

NETWORKS @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @planetonet

MINORS + BLANK BLOGS DFI.

it’s eerily quiet. as expected late at night. sleep’s found itself evading gojo who lies still beside you. he tries to find some sort of way to help his restless mind cease but fails miserably. retracting the days events didn’t help, even going as far as to count was a futile effort. he gets sidetracked at thirty-seven to the sound of a deep sigh. he turns, leaning on his elbow to face you.

when his sight adjusts he gazes over your slumbering form. you’re facing away from him, ass jutted out inches away. his eyes follow the curve of your hip, the way your knee is positioned higher than the other.

cheeky girl, even unconscious, you’re driving him mad. tonight you wear an oversized t-shirt, his tee, nothing underneath but your cute little panties— oh you tease.

he remembers the downward curve of your lips when he taunted you about them earlier. the way you shivered as his fingertips caressed your hips. you wanted to give in so bad, it was all over your face. in the tiny little buck of your hips when his lips connected with your neck. in your pitiful whine when he pressed himself up against you. he almost had you…but not quite.

“you’re not off the hook yet,” you had chuckled before pulling away. you’d given him a chaste kiss before dancing out of his grasp. he watched as you go, chuckling lightly to be a good sport but beneath it all, gojo was devastated.

now your slumbering form is unaware of the soft schlicks coming from behind you. gojo doesn’t mean to, he can’t help it. all of this time— you should be proud of how long he’s gone without defying your wishes. naive and unknowing to the shameless thoughts running rampant through the man’s mind as he fought it.

his face adorns a bashbul blush as his teeth clench around the hem of his shirt. he inches his sweats down further; looking down he can see the way the light catches on the slick starting to gather at the tip. his thumb swipes it, palm dragging the moisture down his hard cock making him shudder a bit.

gojo groans as he pushes your shirt up higher. if he leans in close enough he can see the way the cotton material clings to your puffy outer lips.

your conditions were a bit difficult. when you first introduced the challenge to him the second week, he laughed. real funny. but you laughed too…yet you were serious.

your tired grumbles don’t go unnoticed by his ear. he shifts until he’s pressing up against your rear, his head propped on a hand, elbow mashing against the pillows. he steadies his palm on his cock, not ready yet. his lips brush your neck, your ear, leaving the softest of kisses on your cheek.

it started off fine.

“those are the conditions. the best you could come up with?” he had teased. “sure ill play along, this’ll be a walk.”

he could do it. it was only about three weeks right? all he had to do was not think of anything remotely exciting. then you had to make it hard. deliberate or not, it was driving him nuts, it wasn’t fair! walking around in nothing but his shirts, fluttering your lashes up at him, talking to him with a purr in your tone.

by day eight he was losing it. when you brushed up against him in the kitchen on day last week, he caved in, locking himself in the bedroom to edge himself, feigning a stomach ache when you bugged him, oh so concerned! he bitterly thought of you that day as he thrusted his hips against pillow, shamelessly wishing it was your mouth.

was it cheating? so what. yesterday, he was so out of it. his mind only plagued by what the hell he was gonna do you when it was over. he couldn’t even be in the same room. when you’d approach he’d give you only but a fleeting kiss before mumbling about something he forgot to do.

gojo now presses further until he’s almost aligned with the cleft of your ass. this’ll work though.

it starts with a small roll of his hips, one that causes your t-shirt to ride a bit. he moves it out of the way, the fabric a nuisance. a barrier. he opts for the frilly feel of your panties instead.

he tries not to be loud, really he does but the way you’re sighing and shifting, it only makes the blood rush straight to his dick and his groans louder. only he doesn’t mean to dig his nails that deep into the grip of your side. you stir seconds later, letting out unintelligible whimpers before blinking awake.

“uhn…gojo what’re-”

“shhh, its nothin’ go back to sleep,” but its not nothing, you could feel something hot and hard rutting against your ass, his hand heavily cinching your waist to hold you in place.

you’re awake now but it doesn’t matter, he’s not done. just hold still for a little while longer. let him get off for all the days he’s been good. fortunately, you comply, you teeth worrying your lip as you tremble in his grasp.

“hmm…nng…fuck,”

he moves closer as if he’s wanting to become one. his desperation would’ve been funny had it been any other circumstance. one where he isn’t waking you up by rutting against your body like a mutt. you turn over and gojo shifts until he’s fully on top of you, his cock heavily resting on your thigh. you make the mistake of looking up at him. the way his eyes catches on what little pale light was in the room made him look inhuman. his usually piercing blue eyes, dark.

he buries his face in your neck, inhales your clean scent. he feels a bit of shame but with how your soft plush thighs feel against his hard cock, he doesn’t let himself dwell on it. his hips began to move, slow at first to feel the sensation of you against him.

wetness oozes onto your skin, the sticky texture unmistakably his arousal. you dare not move as he continued to drag his cock along your dampening panties, the apex behind them beginning to clench and drool. the sounds he makes right next to your ear were breathless and downright sinful, desperation dripping in every whine. his lips messily sought out your own, the exchange a clash of lips, teeth and drool.

he’s fully in between your legs now, cock grinding against your clothed cunny. you can’t help but mewl as he presses further, the tip catching on your sweet clit. your stomach heaves as you look down, angry leaking tip moving up against your cunt. his large palms grab at your thighs, pushing them flat against the bed as he continues to buck his hips.

“gojo…” you whisper, clinging to him.

“I’m almost-fuck,” his hips gain momentum, he’s full on humping you as if he’s actually inside. the friction is delicious on both ends—he hits an angle and your bud rubs against him again. it isn’t until your hips jut up to chase him and his reckless thrusting when he shudders with a broken whine.

“mmmg…!” gojo twitches, slowly rolling his hips until he stills, licking at the corner of your mouth and placing a quick kiss.

he falls back on his side of the bed, his softening cock pressing against the waistband of his sweats, a cocky grin on his face.

“you couldn’t just wait?” you hiss in the darkness once your heart steadied.

“its your fault for making me do this silly challenge anyway.” he leans in closer, warmth tickling your ear as he hums, “and honestly, i could’ve done a whole lot worse.”

his fingers starts to dip past your waistband but you shy away, warmth flooding you face and belly at his words.

“besides, if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were asking with this sorry excuse of sleepwear. look! you’re even wearing my favorite panties. special occasions and all that right?” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

you get up, and as you walk to the bathroom, you can hear gojo’s low chuckles. not only did he make a mess out of you but left you needy for more, an itch he purposely placed, a seed deliberately planted. you wonder if it was payback for these few weeks leaving him unsatisfied with your teasing.

from the bed, gojo glances at his phone, grinning as his hand wraps around his cock again. after weeks of enduring your stupid challenge it’s time for his game.

it’s december 1st after all.

#jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #bitchcraftinc #planeto🪐#angelshubnetwork #I NEED MY NIGHTOWLS TO DO THEY THING 🫡#boost plz im treading dangerously posting this so late at night rhhdhdjdisjsh #YES I KNOW ITS NOT NOVEMBER #tw somno

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p0orbaby · 2 years ago

Note

Can you write about wanda maximoff x gn !reader

Enemies to lovers kinda thing

Wanda just pretend she didn't like R and say hurtful things but R keep asking her on a date. But after a mission R takes a bullet for wanda and saved her. Then wanda slap R and say "don't die idiot, i can't live without my idiot" something like that

Please make it more angsty fluffy one

Thanks😊✌🏻

Cat and Mouse

a/n: close enough

warnings: slightly suggestive, way too much sarcasm, like seriously too much, reader being a cocky shit, mentions of blood and wounds, pain, battle

word count: 1k

“You’re relentless, please tell me you’re not too stupid to realise that?”

Wanda Maximoff. The bane of your life. The thorn in your side. The cause of the throb at the apex of your thighs on more than just lonely nights.

She loved it really. The chase. The tease. You saw the way she smirked at you when she thought you weren’t looking. The reflection of the coffee machine ratting her out more times than she would ever care to admit.

“Me?” You asked aghast. Hand on your chest to feign shock. “Relentless? I’m offended, Miss Maximoff. I think the word you’re looking for is determined”

“Determined, you say? Well, determination might be your forte, but patience is certainly mine," Wanda retorted with a raised eyebrow. Fire behind the green of her eyes. "And let's not even get started on your penchant for dramatics”

You leaned in with a sly grin. Closing the gap between the two of you. Crowding her between your body and a bare wall of the compound's many corridors. "Oh, come on, Wanda. Admit it, I've caught your attention in more ways than one”

Wanda rolled her eyes, curling her gloss covered lips in disgust. "Caught my attention, sure. But whether that's a good thing or not, well, that's still up for debate"

You were so close now you could feel her annoyed sighs ghost against your skin. Now warm with, you weren’t quite sure. Satisfaction perhaps. At how her stoic facade always crumbled around you.

"Debate?" you chuckled. "I'd say it's more like a thrilling tug of war, and I intend to win"

She shook her head, mock exasperation in her tone. Stepping out from underneath your gaze. "You do love a challenge, don't you?"

"Only when the challenge is as captivating as you, little witch" you replied smoothly, causing a faint blush to rise on her cheeks.

"You're unbelievable," she muttered, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that betrayed her amusement. And even as she peeled herself away from the wall, out from underneath the bracket of your arms around her frame, turning away from you, you knew she was smiling. You could feel it. It was in the air like static. And you were certain just one spark will light the way to something brilliant.

Sometimes you wondered why you chose this life. Well, chose is subjective. You could leave if you wanted to. Fury wouldn’t be too thrilled about the whole ordeal. But who was going to stop you? Ross?

Or perhaps the bullet that was currently lodged in your side.

"Well, this wasn't exactly on my to-do list for today" You managed to say as you clutched the wound.

Wanda's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and concern. Her chest rising and falling from the effort of defeating the guy who shot landed a bullet into your flesh. “Did you just… don’t you dare say you just took a bullet for me"

You chuckled, wincing in pain. "Oh, you know, just felt like adding some excitement to my day. Saving the world from certain destruction can be a bore sometimes. Am I right?"

She tried but failed to not roll her eyes at you. Her favourite form of response as of late. "You're incorrigible," she said, kneeling down to shelter you somewhat from the fallout of an explosion the went off behind you both.

"Guilty as charged," you replied, attempting a sit up. You hissed at the sharp pain that spread through your body as you bent at the wait. "I'm wounded, fair lady. Perhaps this is my moment to confess my undying affection"

Wanda raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her features. A look starkly contrasted by the gash above her brow and the bruise blooming around it “Undying affection? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

You laughed, wincing a little as you held your abdomen. Hand now saturated in blood. "Ouch, that one hurt more than the bullet"

With a dramatic sigh, Wanda leaned in, her tone gone from teasing to worried at the sight of you. "Alright, alright. You've earned it. I'll go on a date with you."

You grinned, despite your predicament "Ah, the lengths I'll go to just to secure a dinner reservation"

As the battle reached its climax and the enemy forces retreated, you and Wanda found yourselves sitting amidst the rubble, your injury a harsh reminder of the dangers you faced. She looked at you, concern etching her features. "You know, you're not just a chatty know it all. You're actually a decent person”

You feigned surprise, a broken chuckle escaping your lips. "Wow, high praise. I’m honoured, truly”

Wanda rolled her eyes, her concern mingling with something akin to fondness. "Don't let it go to your head. That’s the only compliment you’re getting"

You winced, shifting slightly to ease the discomfort. "My head is perfectly fine, but this bullet wound could use a little attention”

She leaned in closer, her voice quieting now the sounds around you have dampened. "For all the sarcasm, you've got a way of making near death experiences slightly more forgiving"

You smirked through the pain, your eyes locked onto hers. "What can I say? I soften up even the harshest of battlefields”

Wanda chuckled, her fingers reaching out to brush against your arm in a gentle, comforting gesture. Your skin prickled underneath your tactical suit. "You're ridiculous"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," you replied with a laugh, coughing and straining slightly as pain shot through your body again.

With a sigh and a concerned frown of her brow, Wanda leaned in even closer to assess you. "Okay, fine. Once we patch you up, we'll go on that date I know you’ve been dying to ask me on”

"Don’t act like you haven’t been waiting to say yes" you teased, your heart skipping a beat when she smirked, eyes lighting up like she was glad you’d finally called her bluff.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #fluff

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shizunitis · 9 months ago

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No, ur absolutely so right about Bingcest. Preach louder because like. It’s just so fun. Any reason why they would be doing it is so fun. Is Bingge fucking Bingmei to show him how he needs to fuck Shizun? Is it a domination thing? What crazy kinks would Bingmei learn from Bingge? How would he try and incorporate them with Shizun? So many questions. I want Bingge to bite Bingmei’s lips when they kiss.

anon i love you and am willing to go through the abyss for you empty-handed and with my hands tied. will give you my firstborn. thank you for letting me talk about this please never leave me

now that the bingmei rp is over, and keeping in mind that i am forever sleep deprived, in a vaguely bingge mood, and also very sorry for what that means for any passersby, here’s my answer. horniness and thoughts (hopefully coherent enough) under the cut

though i find the shizun sandwich version of bingcest to be extremely tasty and a great apperitif, i feel like the pure bingge-bingmei storylines my brain throws at me every now and then are so fucking good (read: hhNnNg) on their own.

a non-exhaustive list of some ideas i didn’t ever think too deeply about but like for reasons:

what if bingge is bingmei’s shizun.

what if bingmei gets stranded in pidw.

what if bingge accompanies bingmei in the abyss.

what if instead of only having bingge and bingmei, we also throw in oo!lbh into the mix and make this the worst throuple to have ever existed.

what if the system fucks up and there’s two binghe’s from the very beginning, twins or clones or whatever, and they brave the world on their own so as not to strain the washerwoman’s already precarious situation further than they did the first time around.

what if bingmei wishes very, very hard for a father during his disciplehood, and the system plops bingge into his world when shen yuan is mia.

what if bingge goes out and tries to find the svsss world again but ends up in oo!pidw.

what if bingge and bingmei live to the ends of their lives and meet after the universe is wiped as cosmic beings and they have incomprehensible sex to soothe the pain.

what if bingmei suspects bingge came back to steal shizun during the monthly wifeplots, and just jumps the gun and goes after the fucker directly.

what if modern au.

what if modern au where they’re separated at birth.

what if actual lab clones of each other!

et cetera (many more examples. none of which i can think of right now and if i’m being honest? half of these i thought up on the fly, so i was lying. fibbing. other words. never ever assume i know what i’m talking about)

in any and all these situations shen qingqiu and/or shen yuan could and perhaps should be integrated, but for my purposes he can take a moment to breathe. i’ll return him his husbands shortly.

back to the point: i love every iteration of bingcest.

bingge and bingmei being very alpha vs. alpha about fucking and literally fighting for dominance. bingmei being horrible at kissing and bingge getting annoyed with the teeth thing and showing him how to actually bite someone (stealing your desires as they perfectly align with mine, anon) and then finding out that what bingge would consider lowly and ignoble (is that how you use the word? probably not), bingmei blushes and whines for so prettily.

exchanging blood and it fails to do anything but induce arousal in the other and then using that as a way to torment each other.

i want the snapping teeth and the clawing and the violence. the almost-tangible, suffocating hatred and frustration. them choking on their leashes tied together without their knowledge. choking on them where the’re tied to opposite ends of the bed as they try to get to the other. and so forth

but soft bingcest works beautifully too. don’t know how they’d end up in that situation but i’m picturing it and it’s very nice.

bingge’s vanity and desire to be perfect projected onto his own self staring back at him, bingmei’s bratty disobedience challenging bingge’s desire to subjugate and conquer and take, all of this culminating in the two of them understanding their differences but also loathing them in a way. why is he different, he’s me, why can’t he understand, why isn’t he doing what i would, why does he hate me, the likes

oh!! bingmei should yell that at bingge actually. or growl it while he pins bingge down to get him to listen to him. and bingge should want to say, “are you stupid?” but holds back because now isn’t the time. where did the brat even get that idea from? he’s done everything he could to make him stronger, to make him realise that the world is a shit, cruel place and they only have each other in the end, and yeah it’s a shit hand to be dealt, but is it? is it really?

hm. don’t really know where that thought ends up but i’m pretty sure it ends up with both of them fucking unbearably tenderly (by their standards) in a forest somewhere.

anyway.

i don’t mean to exclude shizun because. i wouldn’t fucking dare? but bingcest is. it’s dear to me. i’m a bingcest purist if you’d like, but bingcestqiu/yuan is second on the list. third is mobingcumplane/moshangbingqiu but that’s another thing altogether

(i have no actual clue if there’s ship names for these already. surely there are?)

BUT. adding shizun into the mix is wonderful. i’ve rec’ed it before but through the eye of a needle is SUCH a good fic PLEASE give it a read it’s my favourite fic ever ever in the history of ever

i love the idea of shizun trying to tame these two idiots and failing miserably. i also love the idea of him succeeding. i want bingmei making bingge drink some ‘respect shizun’ juice and i want bingge to give bingmei some much needed ‘fuck shizun’ lessons. i want shizun to direct their every movement while he casually drinks his tea and pretends like he’s not foaming at the mouth seeing the two protagonists being “forced” to go at each other like they’re passionate, devoted lovers.

just.

bingcest…

there’s so much i want from bingcest. i want the guilt, and the confusion, and the rage! i want the angst! the territorial spats, the dick measuring contests (literal and metaphorical). the comfort! the. idk man they should be allowed to be horrible to each other, it’s not like they can die.

(holy shit what if one of them dies. fuck i’m exhausted but please. kill one of them and make the other revive him. somehow. maybe we can make regret of chunshan reality but it’s bingcest, if you understand)

but mainly i want the two pretty idiots humping each other’s thighs like teenagers. making bingge crawl for bingmei is also a very fun thought that would make him (plural) react in a very entertaining way. getting bingmei to power bottom is chef’s kiss when bingge’s on the other end. teaching bingge about the beauty of surrendering to his own self, which he does not trust with anything but also understands more than he’d like or wants to acknowledge is also neat. they would get up to degeneracies that i can’t speak of. i’m shy and also inarticulate about them

oooh also lebingcest. exactly the same as before but it’s better. because lesbian yaoi

#svsss #luo binghe #luo bingge #bingcest #used that word so much it gained a new meaning i’m not sharing #also sorry but once again hiding behind the esl shield im tiny small very little and a bit unsmart #i love you anon. i hope you understand me #any typos and mistakes i bequeathe to shen qingqiu as per usual #.q

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