#having managers following you around at any time of the day and controlling everything you do is not the 'slay' yall think it is

[yazmarina]

walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

-

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

-

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

-

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."

[kkeke99]

yg debuting literally infants it's just so sickening to me, idk how some of yall are okay with it.

[eff4freddie]

Play With Her

Explicit - 18+ Minors DNI

A sequel to Play With It

Words: 4k

You and Joel have fond memories of the last time he called you from work. But a slight misunderstanding leads to some fun with your neighbour, and to you ( accidentally) fulfilling one of Joel’s secret fantasies.

Warnings: SMUT, people. So much. Smut. Oral (m and f receiving), phone sex, mmf (kinda), Joel talks his girl through it like a gentleman, surprise Frankie, Joel’s a little shocked but he is very into it, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, Joel being kinda soft dom again.

You hadn’t forgotten Joel’s antics in his car in the middle of a workday, but despite a particularly explosive afternoon immediately following, you hadn’t had the time to properly get him back. It hadn’t been either of your faults, just that work continued to be relentless, something went wrong at the site, materials weren’t delivered, the vendors got mad. You developed a little twitch in your eyelid. Joel came home rubbing his neck and shoulders and turning the kitchen upside down trying to find the heat pack.

You knew there was love there, that there was passion. You weren’t worried about it, even though you missed him. You knew that it was situational. When the air cleared, you’d get back to taking each other apart.

--

Joel woke up early again, groaning as his muscles ached like they hadn’t had any rest at all. You were in bed beside him, and he knew that you’d had a late shift but you’d managed to rack up enough overtime that today you had the whole day to yourself. He was so proud of you, his little worker bee, and even though he was disappointed your schedules hadn’t aligned so that he could enjoy the day with you, or on top of you, he still knew it was good for you. He left a little note on your bedside, telling you he was gonna call around lunchtime. He marked it with two x’s and two o’s. For a second he imagined actually peppering your skin with kisses.

‘Soon, baby,’ he said, to your sleeping form. He was quiet in his socks on the carpet as he left.

On the way out the door, piece of toast between his teeth, he looked over the front lawn. It was getting out of control, and he’d been meaning to cut it, but he just couldn’t find the energy on a weekend, and as the days were gettin’ shorter as the weather changed, he was leaving in the dark, home in the dark. He didn’t like the look of the lawn, worried that the state of the grass was a direct reflection of the state of his aging body, of his bone-deep fatigue most days. That the neighbours would twig he was getting older, purely by the weeds spreading their tendrils over the path to the door.

‘Morning, Joel,’ he heard a voice call, and he glanced over to next door’s patio, where one such neighbour was standing with the newspaper in his hands.

‘Frankie,’ he said, nodding his head. He got on well with Frankie, even if he wasn’t 100% sure he trusted him all the time. He had a kid he had over every other weekend, who Sarah adored, and other than that he lived alone. Ex-military, he reminded Joel of Tommy, and he tried to be sensitive knowing some of the shit he must have seen. He didn’t seem lonely, he was handy and knew how to get Joel’s truck going when the engine was on the fritz, and more than anything he treated you respectful, tipped his cap when you walked by, and Joel liked that. Appreciated the manners.

‘Early start,’ Frankie said, and Joel sighed. He rested a hand on his hip.

‘Too early,’ he grunted, and the younger man smiled knowingly at him. As Joel moved to the truck he limped a little, his hip bothering him after he carried some lumber the wrong way on the site a few days ago.

‘You ok?’ Frankie asked. Frankie noticed everything, Joel knew. It would have kept him alive in his last job, he supposed.

‘Yeah, just gettin’ old, getting’ tired.’ Joel nodded to the lawn. ‘Can’t you tell?’

‘Could help you with that, got the day clear today and…well, don’t have other plans.’

Joel had seen Frankie out on his back porch drinking on his own, sometimes with a couple of other men who all looked a similar age, similar previous occupations. He didn’t mind so long as they kept it down and didn’t catch your eye too much.

‘Can’t ask ya for that,’ Joel started, but Frankie waved him away.

‘You’re not. I’m offering, hermano.’

Joel nodded. It might be a nice surprise for you, he thought, to have the house reclaim some of its street appeal. Lord knew it didn’t have much to start with.

Sitting in his truck he fired off a quick message to you so you wouldn’t be surprised by Frankie on your front lawn. ‘Organised a sruprise 4 you, baby xxoo,’ he wrote. He was going to be late. He sent it without too much thought.

--

You woke, lifting your arms up over your head and listening to the pops of your joints as the stretch moved up your spine. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a day off. You had no idea what you were going to do with your spare time.

After a second or two of blissful cotton-headedness, you noticed a droning sound from the front of the house. You stood on achy knees and padded over to the window. Surely Joel hadn’t taken the day off too, with the worksite being so crazy lately?

You sucked in a tight little breath when you saw him. Shirtless, with his curls poking out the side of his ballcap, pushing his lawnmower over your unruly grass in the late-morning sun. You scrabbled for your phone to check the time and also to try and orient yourself, to make sure you hadn’t accidentally fallen through a wormhole in your sleep, as though Siri would be able to tell you one way or the other.

You saw the message from Joel. A surprise? You glanced around the room, looking for any clues. Eventually your eyes fell on a scrap of paper on your bedside, and you read that, too. For a second you stood, confused, trying to put the pieces together. He had organised a surprise, there was a half-naked man on your lawn, and he was going to call you at lunchtime. And you remembered exactly what transpired the last time he did that.

Your felt your brows shoot up to your hairline as realisation dawned. Did he know you’d had a crush on Frankie since the moment he’d moved in next door? How could he know, you’d been so careful not to stare too long, not to smile too much. You’d felt the sparks, and you’d poured cold water of them well enough, you’d thought.

But nothing got past Joel. You couldn’t believe it, but also you definitely could.

A surprise for you? No. This time you were going to be one step ahead.

--

Joel didn’t like to eat his lunch in the truck, never fully able to get the tang of egg salad out of the upholstery after, but this time he made an exception. He’d pulled back around to where it was quiet, knowing some of the guys on site liked to pump the tunes during their breaks, set up a little jerry-rigged tailgate to try and while away the 40 minutes they had to themselves. He thought with a shiver about the last time he’d snuck off to park somewhere quiet. He let himself wonder for a moment if you’d be up for something like a repeat. He grinned a little as he dialled. He didn’t think he should push his luck.

The call connected almost straight away, like you’d been waiting for him, and he felt a little flutter in his heart. You were so sweet to him. He needed to take you out somewhere special soon, make you flutter for a little while.

‘Hey baby,’ you said, your voice high and breathy, and he guessed you were still in bed.

‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he said, teasin’ you.

‘Mmm,’ you said, ‘no cameras this time?’

‘We can if you want, baby, but I was just calling to check in on ya.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, and to make sure Frankie’s doing his job,’ he said, chuckling a little.

‘Frankie’s doing just fine,’ you said, and you sounded weird somehow, maybe a little out of breath?

‘You ok, baby?’ he asked, and you hummed in response.

‘Wanna see you,’ you said, and he felt a shiver up the base of his spine. He knew that tone. He felt the smirk appear on his face.

‘Yeah, you sound like ya do,’ he said. He took the phone from his ear and connected Facetime. He heard you doing the same.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see. He’d assumed you were in bed, so he was surprised to see you were up, standing in front of the big picture window overlooking the front lawn. Your cheeks were a little flushed, and you looked a little sweaty. He wondered if you’d been for a run.

‘There’s my girl,’ he said, because the sight of you always lit something up in him, and you smiled at him, a coy little thing.

‘I got a surprise for you,’ you said, a dimple appearing on your cheek as you arched a single brow at him.

‘Oh yeah?’ he said, feeling his cock stir. Maybe you were up for a repeat after all.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you said, biting your lip. You were holding the phone up with one arm, but he could see your other arm held fast in front of you. Were you touching yourself in the living room?

‘Show me,’ he said, and you grinned at him. You panned the camera down, slowly, so that first thing he saw was the straps of your camisole, one hanging off your shoulder to hover just over the swell of your tit. You lowered it again, over the belly, where you had shucked up the hem and he could see some exposed skin, your little belly button he sometimes liked to tickle with his beard just to hear you squirm and squeal.

Then a little further down. Angling the camera so that he could see down your body, to your feet on the carpet, and to the man on his knees between them.

Joel blinked. He was sure his heart stopped.

‘What…’ he started, but he couldn’t finish his sentence because he was too distracted by the man hitching one of your thighs over his shoulder and opening you up, teasing the lips of your pussy apart to properly latch to your cunt. ‘Oh my god,’ he uttered.

‘Oh my god!’ you gasped, as Frankie sucked your clit between his teeth. ‘Oh baby, he’s so good,’ you groaned.

‘Baby, what are you doing?’ Joel asked, trying not to overthink that his cock was rock hard while he watched another man lick a stripe along your seam.

‘Surprise…’ you gasped. ‘Got a head start.’

Joel’s hands were shaking. A head start on what? He watched as your hand gripped Frankie’s head, his ballcap on the floor beside him as he grasped at your hips, pulling you down harder on his face. You were squirming there on top of him, as he huffed out little exhales into your skin.

Your breath was starting to get faster, coming in little pants, as your thigh clenched around Frankie’s shoulder. For a brief moment you worried you were going to suffocate him, and then he ran a finger up the inside of your thigh and teased at your opening and you simply didn’t care.

You angled the phone back to your face, your eyes fluttering shut so that you didn’t see Joel’s slightly shocked expression.

‘Such a good surprise, baby, thank you,’ you said, and Joel felt his belly flip in on itself. You were blissed out, he could see just by your face you were half gone already. Your little whimpers were sending electric shocks to his cock. He couldn’t deny it wasn’t one of the hottest things he’d ever seen, or that he had wanted to see it ever since Frankie appeared next door. He just assumed you’d never be into it, and now looking at you writhing he couldn’t remember why.

He swallowed on a dry throat. You cracked open an eye, noticing he’d stopped talking. You saw that he looked a little pale, and worried for a second he was regretting it.

‘He’s not better,’ you said, trying to form words to reassure him while Frankie was pushing any sensible thought out of your head with his tongue. ‘He’s good, just as good. It’s just different.’

You were shuddering a little, Joel could see that you were trembling from the pleasure the other man was wringing out of you. ‘Yeah?’ he grunted, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Because he didn’t want to take this from you when you’d accidentally given him something he thought he would only ever dream of, not when you were feeling so good, not when you had apparently read his (dirty, filthy) mind. Because he was enjoying it, if he could tame the beast that was howling mine mine mine every time you whimpered under Frankie’s tongue. Because, ok, this wasn’t what he had planned for the day, but it was so much better.

His cock was already so hard it was almost painful. His beautiful, dirty girl. ‘He eatin’ it right, baby?’ he asked, and you moaned a little in response. He heard Frankie grunt a little from beneath you. ‘Show me,’ he said.

You angled the phone down again, this time reaching to put it closer to your cunt, so that Joel could see the way Frankie was suckling at your cunt, the way his tongue was working his way in and out of you, how at some point he had slipped two fingers into your cunt and was pumping them slowly, angled in the way Joel knew you liked, the way that made you stutter.

‘Fuck…’ he groaned, as Frankie huffed out an exhale.

‘She’s good, man,’ Frankie said, pulling his mouth off you for just long enough to force out the words. ‘Tastes like a warm spring morning.’

Joel could feel his cock pulsing, could hardly hear for the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

‘You treat her right,’ he ground out, his jaw ticking. He could feel the furrow in his brows, knew he was almost glowering at Frankie. ‘That’s my girl you got there,’ he added, feeling the need to remind him. To remind himself.

‘She always get this wet for you?’ Frankie asked, and Joel practically growled. He was about to tell Frankie you could practically drown him every night when he noticed your thighs were trembling, your hand in his hair moving to his shoulder to try and get purchase.

‘Lay ‘er down,’ he instructed. ‘Don’t let her fall.’

The camera moved, blurred as Frankie got up off his knees and pulled you over to the couch. He heard you sigh as your muscles relaxed, Frankie lying you down and settling between your open thighs.

‘Thank you, baby,’ you whispered to Joel. He swallowed.

‘Look after you,’ he said, fumbling with his fly. He was rock hard and worried as soon as he held himself in his hand he’d nut like a teenager. He wanted to ride this out with you, wanted to be present for all of it, wanted to stave it off as much as he wanted to chase it down.

‘Oh, he’s got his fingers in me,’ you said, gasping. ‘They’re so thick, just like yours…’

‘He hittin’ the spot?’ Joel asked, as you angled the camera down your body and he saw Frankie hovering over your cunt, lips once again suctioning at your clit.

‘Mmmhmm’ you replied, breathless. ‘He’s good, baby, he’s so good.’

Joel couldn’t form words for a second, gripping the base of his cock to try and regain some sort of control over it.

‘Wish you were here,’ you said, as you pushed your hips down onto Frankie’s face.

‘Yeah?’ Joel asked, wincing as he drew his palm over the weeping, sensitive head. ‘What’d you do if I was there, baby?’ he asked.

‘Want you everywhere,’ you groaned. ‘Want you in my mouth, in my pussy while he sucks on my clit. Want you in my cunt while I suck him.’

Joel gasped, his eyes slamming shut as his head tilted back on his shoulders. You were going to be the fucking death of him, and he would happily go if this was how you’d go about it.

‘Want your tight little cunt, baby,’ he grunted, pumping now, not able to help himself, the want for you overwhelming as Frankie raised his head a little to eye him through the camera. Your hips were bucking now, involuntary and fast. ‘Play with her,’ Joel said to him. ‘Don’t let her come yet, not ‘til she’s earned it.’

He heard you whimper, a desperate little cry, and watched as Frankie pulled back. Joel watched as his face glistened with your slick.

‘Joel!’ you cried, and he sniggered a little.

‘Ain’t what I meant when I said you could cut my grass,’ he said to Frankie, who grinned at him.

‘Not my fault your girl’s got a delicious cunt,’ he said, shrugging.

‘Let me see her,’ Joel said. He held his breath as Frankie took the phone from you and angled it back towards you. He saw you, splayed out on the couch for him and for Frankie, one leg on the floor and the other held fast against the couch, your slick spread over your thighs as your pussy grasped at the air, desperate for something to lick it, to suck it, to fuck it. ‘Jesus,’ Joel said, staring at your folds.

‘Don’t know how you leave the house with this waiting for ya, hermano,’ Frankie said. Joel shook his head.

‘M’a damn fool,’ he agreed. He saw you giggle, and he smiled.

‘Get on your knees for him, baby,’ he said, and watched as your smile fell, shock and want painting your pretty face.

‘You sure?’ you asked, so quiet he almost didn’t hear.

‘You wanna be good to our guest, right?’ Joel teased, and he watched you smile.

‘I’m a good host,’ you said, and he smiled.

‘The best, baby. Go on now, make him feel welcome.’

‘Oh fuck, Joel,’ Frankie muttered, as you got up on your knees on the couch and crawled over to him, your eyes on the younger man’s cock.

‘Just wait ‘til you see what she can do with that slutty little mouth,’ Joel said. He was holding himself by the base again, almost holding his breath in anticipation. Frankie angled the camera down his body so that Joel could see your hand as you reached out to hold him.

‘It’s big,’ you said, looking up and straight at Joel through the camera. You could see how far gone he was, how much he was holding himself back. You felt more arousal pool between your legs just at the look on his face.

‘You can take it,’ Joel said. ‘Make it good for him, baby.’

You watched as he mirrored your smile. God, you loved him. Even now, with another man’s cock in your face, he was the love of your life and as soon as he was home again you’d tell him. Show him. Never let him doubt it for a second.

You extended your tongue to kitten lick at Frankie’s tip, tasting the pre-come that had gathered while you and Joel encouraged each other. You heard the twin groans of Frankie above you and Joel through the phone. You hitched your mouth over the head, gathering saliva and letting it run out over the sides. Frankie was big, but so was Joel, and you breathed through your nose as you slipped your mouth over him, opening your throat and trying to calm your racing heart.

‘Oh, fuck me,’ Frankie said, as Joel held his breath. You hollowed your cheeks, a bolt of want shooting through your cunt as Frankie stuttered, groaning low and heavy in his chest. He smelt faintly of Old Spice and grass clippings, and you tasted the salt on his skin of his exertion. Joel smelt of pine and lumber. Between the two of them they were a symphony of delicious masculinity.

‘Can you reach her tits?’ you heard Joel ask, shivering. Frankie grunted his ascent. ‘Reach down, if you play with her nipples she’ll soak the couch.’

You whimpered, breathing out hard through your nose as you worked Frankie further into your throat.

‘Look at me, baby.’ Joel instructed and you opened your eyes, letting them travel up Frankie’s glistening tanned body to catch Joel’s eyes. You could see he was working himself again, panting and squirming in the driver’s seat of his truck. His hands were trembling a little, causing your view of him to shake, and it matched the tremors that were coursing through your body as you sucked Frankie down.

You felt his hand grope at your tit and you rounded your spine to try and give him more room, sticking your butt out into the air in the process. You kept your eyes on Joel, fighting the urge to let them drift closed, wanting to watch him watching you with another man’s cock in your mouth.

‘Doin’ so good,’ Joel muttered and you preened under his praise. ‘Put your hand between your legs, rub that little clit.’

You whined, following his instruction, a little lightheaded from the heat and the desire and Frankie halfway down your throat. ‘Such a pretty girl, my beautiful girl,’ Joel prattled. ‘Love you like this, baby, throat all stretched out taking on another man.’

Your eyelids fluttered as his words hit you in your core, Frankie’s hips starting to roll as you eased your finger over your clit and started rubbing tight little circles on the bundle of nerves. Frankie pinched hard at your nipple and you gasped, sucking in air through your nose and trying not to gag in the process.

‘Oh fuck, she’s squeezing me with her throat, hermano,’ Frankie muttered.

Joel watched, almost completely out of his mind. He never wanted to look at anything else ever again, wanted this view of you tattooed on the inside of his eyelids so he could see it anytime he wanted. Your eyes were starting to water, your skin glistening with sweat, as your hips shuddered under your own touch and under Frankie’s.

Joel was so close he wasn’t going to be able to stop it. He knew he had only seconds left, and by the looks of it, so did you.

‘Oh fuck baby, look what you did to us,’ he said, and you let your eyes drift from Joel’s to Frankie’s face as he grit his teeth, his eyes staring down at you, just barely managing to hold onto the phone as you sucked him.

‘So good,’ Frankie said to you, ‘can’t…gonna…’

You groaned, taking him out of your throat and reaching up to jerk the shaft while you sucked hard on the head. Still circling your clit with one hand you reached the other up to gently roll his balls in your palm. He cried out, the shock of the pleasure making him finally drop the phone. It landed, face up, just by his knees and angled up under your chin as Frankie shot his load into your mouth, gripping your tit in one hand and the other coming to rest on the crown of your head as he pumped his hips, his come shooting into your mouth as you rolled it over your tongue. Joel had an obscene view of it, watched as Frankie’s come spilled out of your mouth and onto the couch below you, nearly splattering over the lens. It was too much, finally too much, Joel shooting come into his hand and over his shirt as he fucked his palm, imagined it was your mouth, your cunt as you sucked Frankie’s come down, imagined he was inside you and also beside you, holding your head up as the younger man painted your throat.

He came as you did, gasping and whimpering for the other, your voice calling for him as he grunted out for you, and he recovered just enough to watch as you shuddered, your body shaking and rolling with the pleasure of it as you rested your face on Frankie’s heaving belly, sweat plastering your hair to your head, come dripping from your lips, as you rode out your high.

‘Fuck, baby…’ you whimpered, while you fought to catch your breath. Joel could see you collapsing, the pleasure wringing you out, leaving you shaky and spent. He swallowed, collecting himself enough to instruct the younger man.

‘Washcloths are under the bathroom sink. Make sure the water’s warm.’ He took a second to breathe, trying to clear his vision enough to be able to drive. ‘Wrap her up in a blanket, there’s one on the back of the couch.’ He watched as Frankie nodded, listening hard. ‘Hold her ‘til I get there,’ Joel said, his heart thrumming again, an ache building in his chest to be with you as he fumbled the keys into the ignition.

‘Hold my girl for me ‘til I’m there,’ he said, again.

[angelickisscs]

buying your love ~ blurb ‧₊˚

୨ ୧ ˚₊ pairing ~ jude bellingham x reader

summary: ignoring your ex is a lot harder than you could have imagined

YOUR BACK WAS pressed against the wooden chair as sweat began to settle on your skin. The sun had decided to make a sudden appearance during spring, the humid air emitting from it being enough to push you out of your slowly boiling house. It saved no effort for the summer, instead opting to use it all up on one day.

Your friend’s decision to all meet at the closest pub garden being one that a large number of others had shared. A loud chatter blurred around the edge of your consciousness. Currently, the race that two droplets of water were having to see which would make it to the bottom of the glass first was far too interesting to miss.

There was a disinterest that had followed you around all day. Without any warning, you lacked the ability to focus on anyone’s words or actions. Whether or not that was the heart that clung to you or the brown eyed man that was still trying to get back in contact, you couldn’t be sure.

It was a surprise when your friend’s hand ended up waving itself directly in front of your eyes, its appearance largening in the glass’s reflection.

“You alright?” She questioned you with a cocked head. You sent her a vigorous nod in return, leaning forward to grab a handful of the assorted nuts they had left on your table.

Her eyes watched you atop of her beer glass, your every move forced under a harsh microscope. Your shoulders were beginning to shrink inside of themselves, your body slightly falling downwards in the chair.

Though, when you finally looked up at her, they had been escorted elsewhere. Despite this fact, the discomfort remained in your body, making you shiver no matter the temperature.

You took the chance to look around you slightly. The tables around you were full, little had their umbrellas up, most choosing to catch a tan under the sun’s aggressive rays. Shoulders that had browned were now beginning to taint themselves a particular shade of red, including yours.

One pair of eyes were stuck to your body like super glue when you were about to finish your brief search, their familiar appearance leaving you no choice but to hastily look away.

The water droplets race had now finished, a round two commencing with others running. You had opted for the left side to win, mentally placing a bet on it to see if the distraction could calm your racing heartbeat. Both failed miserably, left colliding with the right side as it was about to cross the finish line.

It left you nothing to do but allow yourself to creep your eyes back in his direction. They met with his once again, his collected appearance being enough for you to glue to him for much longer than originally planned.

A white vest adorned his chest, framing his biceps to such perfection it was worthy of an art museum. The cap he wore shielded his face from most around him but the seats he had opted for gave you a perfect view of him and him, you. Though from the way a cheeky grin had enveloped is face when he realised you were staring directly back at him had you wanting nothing more than to be able to look away.

You could feel your eyes begging to move but your brain managed to keep control of them. It kept them in control for as long as it could before it was deemed as unworthy to be making such decision from your heart. Its delicate outer-layer shattering one too many times by that man to concede zero contact from just a smile.

With that, you rejoined the conversations with your friends no matter how hard it was. His nagging eyes stayed on you, pleading with you for just one more look.

“And my boss just refuses to give me a bloody break!” Your exasperated friend complained one final time before your others moved in to give their equally as annoyed opinions. You had attempted to give your words of advice but the lack of information you had managed to pick up had you agreeing with everything else everyone was saying.

Jude had not left you with that awkward situation for long, your phone soon buzzing with texts from him.

You look beautiful. The first had read, not having a moment to linger in the spotlight before the second came in. I brought you that dress.

You rolled your eyes at both, your hands itching to put the phone down and have a nice evening with your friends like you had promise but it soon became obvious that your brain had appealed your hearts decision and resumed its previous role.

you did. Was all you could muster in that second. The tips of your fingers had moved with such hesitation that it took close to four minutes to type in and send those two words.

It wasn’t even a second before a text from him was shooting back. Maybe I could see more of it tonight.

Looking over to him, you watched as he raised his eyebrows in questioning, pushing you to answer his possibility.

maybe not

You slammed your phone down onto the table after that, the strength at with which you do so mixed with the swiftness shocking all your friends. In attempt to distance yourself from him, you had only ended up closer than ever and that barrier you had set up around your heart was beginning to crumble each time it expanded with more force than it should be.

“I ask again, are you okay?” The final words that Sara had spoken were heavily enunciated, the worry becoming alarmingly clear as she leaned closer towards you.

“Yeah, awesome.” You responded after a few beats. There was a silence that encapsulated your table, each of their eyes on your face with such a violent heat that didn’t mix well with the humidity already getting itself familiar with the air around you.

They all laughed slightly at your answer, obviously not believing either word that you had to say. Though none of them pushed, knowing the effect that it could have if they were to.

Sara used her closeness to snatch your phone from its downward position on the table when everyone had become distracted for a brief second. The notification she had seen on your home screen had her jaw on the floor though she quickly recovered to keep your privacy.

“Him? Again?” She whispered to you as she met with your pleading eyes. Within a matter of milliseconds, it had given her all the information that she could need.

Sara had been the only one to know of the situation that had taken place between Jude and you, her investigative tendencies coming out in full force when she realised you were beginning to become more secretive during hangouts. She wasn’t happy then and nothing had changed since then.

You sighed, a certain sensation that not even you could pinpoint running through your body with a cooling effect. “It’s almost sum-.”

“You’ve tried the summer fling before.”

She was quick in cutting you off, hitting your knee under the table when she did so. Her eyes held such an accusatory look to them that you felt like a child again, your mother scolding you for having a random sweet before dinner.

“He broke contact not me.” You grimaced at your own excuse, “Plus, I turned him down.”

“Take the phone back and tell me you won’t change your mind then.” Her hand was extended in your direction, the pressure that she was putting on you in so many different forms had you doing exactly what she had challenged you to.

The phone case’s corners were lifted out of place before being popped back down, your fingers needing a job that wasn’t texting his latest text back no matter how hesitant they were the first time. He had a particular way of weakening you and you were yet to figure out his exact methods so that you could create a good enough defence to them.

Slowly, you span it around in your hand. The facial ID was quick to recognise your features, your phone unlocking to show you a Venmo notification followed by a text. Out of pure confusion, you made the decision to click on it, already beginning to lose to Sara.

Then maybe I could see you in something else?

The text was sent first, soon followed by the £750 he had decided to send to you.

Your eyes widened so far that they almost encountered your furrowed eyebrows. Looking upwards towards where he once sat, the site of an empty chair and his friends laughing between one another introduced itself to you.

It wasn’t long before you realised where he had ended up, a pair of hands softly falling upon your reddened shoulders. His face was dangerously close to your neck, the warmth of his breath colliding with the flesh on your ears in such a way that it mixed perfectly with the humidity.

“I’ve always liked red on you.”

[katsu28]

i saw requests were open and i simply could not resist

holding both their hands while holding their gaze gently, just before leaning in for a kiss + oscar maybe? honestly whoever you want to write it with, i’ll be happy!!!

you’re the best, love you, hope you’re having the most beautiful day ever💛💛

marissa babe i love you loads, thank you so much for this request <3 i've melted into a puddle writing this i kid you not

oscar piastri x reader, 1.8k. request something from here!

You’ve gone back and forth between canceling your date three times in the past two hours now. 

You should be showering, getting ready, finding a cute outfit, but instead you’re pacing a hole in the floor of your room, staring at your phone on your desk. 

You’ve been going out with the sweetest guy, Oscar, for a bit, and you like to think things are going well. He’s so kind and so cute, and you still can’t quite wrap your mind around the fact that he likes you enough to have gone on five dates with you. 

But for some reason, he makes you so unbelievably nervous. You feel like a bumbling fool around him whenever you’re together, tripping over your words, laughing a little too hard for a little too long at something that probably wasn’t even that funny, but you can’t help it. When Oscar is around, it’s like some little person in your brain wrenches away control from any rational thinking and just goes crazy. 

The worst part is, you don’t even know why. He’s just your type, he makes you feel like you’ve known him for much longer than you have, and you thought that would put you at ease. 

You’ve never felt this way with any other person before. Maybe that’s why you’re acting this way. This thing you have with Oscar is special, however new it is, and you’re afraid of fucking it up. You haven’t even kissed yet, but you’re afraid of fucking that up too. 

At that moment, your phone buzzes with a text from none other than Oscar himself. 

Oscar: Can’t wait to see you tonight. Miss you :-)

You’ve only gone four days without seeing each other and he misses you enough to tell you so. Fuck, he’s adorable. 

You have to go now, because the moment you finish reading his message you’re grinning like an idiot, giggling alone in your room at an eight word message and a stupidly endearing smiley face. 

Unfortunately, your nerves and anxieties have come to bite you on the ass. Now you’ve only got a little more than an hour to do everything you should’ve been doing to get ready for dinner instead of sitting around being indecisive. 

How you manage to get ready and out the door on time is a miracle, and before you know it you’re in an Uber on your way to meet Oscar. The driver is a kindly older man, rather talkative, which normally you weren’t very fond of, but his stories about his grandkids do wonders at providing a distraction from your thoughts. 

You almost forget you’re on your way to meet Oscar until you get out of the car and spot him across the street, slouched against the wall of the restaurant scrolling on his phone. 

He looks devastatingly handsome in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, both of which fit him fantastically, if you say so yourself, hair fluffed to perfection even though you know for a fact he probably hadn’t done a thing to it.

As if he senses you’ve arrived, he glances up, beaming brightly at the sight of you. He raises his hand in a wave, pocketing his phone immediately and coming to meet you at the other edge of the sidewalk.  

“Hey, stranger. Long time no see,” He says warmly, effortlessly folding you into a hug. You let yourself melt a little bit in his embrace, cheek pressed to his firm chest. “You look really pretty.” 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You reply. He smiles bashfully, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Shall we?” He offers out the crook of his elbow and you loop your arm through his, happy to follow his lead into the restaurant. 

Dinner goes well, all things considered. You’re frustratingly aware of how Oscar makes you feel the entire time, but you think you’re playing it off fairly well.

Or at least, if Oscar does notice, he doesn’t say anything. He’s absolutely perfect the whole time, polite and engaged with your stories, and funny in that dry sort of way of his that you’ve come to like. 

You insist on splitting the bill once it comes and he doesn’t waste time by fighting you for the check like a lot of guys always seem to do, but he does call dibs on paying for ice cream at a place down the road he’d spotted on his way in, which you agree to. 

He slides his hand into yours almost shyly at the start of the walk over, peering over at you through that one swooping curl of his that never seemed to stay put, as if to ask if it was okay he was holding your hand.

Your relationship (if you could even call it one at this early stage) is still new to the point where both of you aren’t quite sure what’s okay and when. Your response is to simply lace your fingers through his and squeeze. 

You quite like holding his hand, even if it does make you worry about if yours is too sweaty. 

Oscar opts for double chocolate chunk as his scoop of choice, which surprises you a little bit. You thought he would’ve gone for vanilla, but he always finds new ways to surprise you. He even pokes fun at your choice in flavor, bumping his shoulder against yours with that big smile that makes your heart dance in your chest. 

You find a nice place to sit and eat your ice cream on a bench in a cute little park across the way, and everything is going swimmingly, but then he asks. 

“This might be a stupid question, but are you alright?” 

You nearly choke on your ice cream at his words. You’ve learned that Oscar is usually pretty blunt, but you’re still trying to get used to it. “Am I—what?” 

“Are you okay? You seem…different. Was dinner alright? I’ve never been there before, but one of my mates keeps going on and on about it so I thought—” 

So he had noticed. You shake your head firmly, placing a hand over Oscar’s. “Dinner was lovely.”

“Ah. Okay. Is it something else then?” To his credit, he looks genuinely concerned that something’s wrong, even with ice cream smudged at the edge of his mouth. You have to fight the urge to wipe it away for him. “You don’t have to tell me, but you can if you want to. I’m a good listener.” 

You could tell him. It would benefit you to tell him, but for some reason, you hesitate. 

How are you to tell Oscar that he makes you feel like you're not yourself when he's around? That you get so nervous in his presence that you always feel like you're doing or saying the wrong thing? 

That every time he holds your hand or touches your cheek or texts you silly updates about his failed attempts at keeping a plant alive, you have to fight the urge to scream because you like him so much it scares you and you're afraid you’ll chase him away if you let him in on it. 

How do you tell someone all that without sounding completely and totally mental? 

You’ve only been on five dates, for fuck’s sake. For all you know, he could be planning on telling you it just won't work out between the two of you as soon as you get home tonight. You know he wouldn't do that because he's way too nice, but it doesn't stop you from jumping to conclusions.  

You must take longer than you think to respond, because Oscar says your name again. He’s fully facing you now, one hand on your knee when you come back down from your thoughts, brows furrowed. 

“I like you.” You blurt. 

He blinks a few times, then smiles. “Well, that's good, ‘cause I like you too.” 

“No, Oscar, I—” You pause a beat, trying to gather your thoughts into something more coherent. “I really like you. Like, so much that I feel like I’m messing everything up.”

“You could never mess anything up,” Oscar says fondly. So, so fondly. Your heart feels like it's about to leap out of your chest at his sincerity. “I really like you too. It’s a little scary, actually.” 

“Oh, thank god. I thought it was just me,” You breathe, shoulders sagging in relief. 

“That’s it, though?” He prods, cocking his head to the side curiously. 

“Uh…yes? I’m sorry, were you expecting more?” 

“No, no, of course not. I just—I thought maybe you were acting differently because you didn’t like me anymore. Got tired of me, or something like that,” He admits sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

His shoulders hunch in on themselves, brows knit in something akin to embarrassment as he stares off at something in the distance. “It sounds stupid now that I hear it out loud, actually. Forget I said anything.” 

“Oscar,” You hum, just as soft as the way he’d reassured you moments earlier. His eyes shift over to meet yours, rich, warm brown like fresh coffee looking wide eyed back at you. You ease the nearly half empty paper cup out of his grip, taking both his hands in your own. You don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. 

“Hm?” He sounds flustered, gaze flicking down to your lips momentarily before coming back up. It’s only a split second, but you know what it means. 

He wants you to kiss him. You want to kiss him. You haven’t yet because you’ve been scared, but you don’t feel scared anymore. You’re not at all sure where this sudden burst of confidence is coming from, but you’re sure as hell not about to let it go to waste, so you lean forward, pressing your lips against his gently. 

It’s like he’s been waiting for this moment, because as soon as your mouth is on his, he sighs, tilting his head accordingly so your noses won’t smash together. You can taste the chocolate from his ice cream on his lips as they move against yours, and it’s not a perfect kiss by any means, but Oscar’s kissing you back, so it feels pretty perfect to you. You’re rather sad when you have to pull away, but air remains a necessity. 

Oscar’s eyes flutter open slowly. “That was…” 

“Nice?” You supply hopefully. 

Oscar bobs his head quickly, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Really nice. We should do it again. Can I…?” Now it’s your turn to nod, and he wastes no time in kissing you again, maybe a little too excitedly, because he knocks both your ice creams off the bench and onto the ground with a sad splat. He pulls away just enough to look at the splatter of melted dessert already starting to seep into the cobblestones under your feet. “Oh. Crap, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” 

“Forget the ice cream,” You mumble, already chasing him for more. You reach around to tangle your fingers up and into the hair at the nape of his neck as a means of pulling him closer. 

Oh, this newfound confidence is really working out for you. 

He lets out a hitched exhale, swallowing hard again. “Yeah, yep. Forgetting the ice cream.” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[bunnyrafe]

𓊆ྀིWE NEED TO TALK !𓊇ྀི — when soft pogue!reader gets caught up, rafe decides it’s time for some discipline within their dynamic.

♥︎ 𝓃otes: apologies if it bothers you that the first section is in one POV and the rest is in another, just wanted to experiment a bit / set the scene. hope everyone enjoys xoxo

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. 1.2k. taboo / toxic themes. father figure bf!rafe & soft pogue!reader AU. controlling behavior, use of daddy & dad, manhandling, impact play (spanking w/ a belt), crying, aftercare.

rafe knows in his heart that his girl doesn't do things to upset him on purpose. at least that's what he would like to think.

he can't imagine her deliberately breaking rules, no matter how vicious her bratty streak may be. she's always been careful to not make him too upset, and is remorseful after the fact if she does manage to get under his skin or do something unsatisfactory. but sometimes, things can't be forgiven so easily.

it all started with a text. her phone vibrated on the bed and that cute, little ringtone she picked out echoed through the room, piquing rafe's interest. she's always given him access to her phone so today shouldn't be any different. he recognizes the name that’s displayed on her screen— a close friend. a fellow pogue.

u act like he's ur dad or smth don't let him control you like that

ugh stop it's not like that :(((

then what's the issue? ??? just sneak away while he's sleeping tonight lmfao

it stings a bit as he reads through the messages, because he knows these are things that normal people her age do. he knows that this is where their age difference becomes a problem even with the dynamic they’ve built…

i'll see what i can do

u better who gives af what that old kook thinks

at first, rafe really tries not to hold it against her. afterall they’re not her words. but as his mind wanders, and he reads over “i’ll see what i can do” time and time again, he wonders how many message threads like this she’s hidden from him and deleted. how many times she’s contemplated sneaking out as if he’d ever give her the opportunity to do such a thing.

he can’t help but start seeing red. he does everything in his power to keep her safe under his roof, only to receive things like this in return. she’ll always be a filthy pogue— he thinks to himself.

maybe he’ll just have to be more proactive when it comes to her.

when you step out of your bath, you immediately wrap yourself up in your fluffiest robe. you pad into your shared bedroom and think about which lotion ‘n mist you want to put on for the day, clearly content now that you’re all soft and clean.

but instead of making your way to your vanity, you immediately stop in your tracks upon seeing rafe’s belt laying on your duvet. it’s a sign that you don’t take lightly. even more so when you hear his footsteps behind you.

he breathes in deep before opening his mouth to speak. the sound of his voice makes you jump despite how calm he is, “go sit down on the bed f’me, angel.”

your eyes are already burning with tears.

rafe stands in front on you as you gingerly take your seat on the edge of the bed, nervously folding your trembling hands in your lap. yet your gaze follows rafe’s own hands intently when he suddenly pulls your phone out of the pocket of his slacks and holds it up with a familiar text thread on your screen— fuck.

“i promise, daddy!” you’re wailing before you can think about what you’re saying, “i wasn’t gonna sneak out!”

rafe purses his lips and nods, locking eyes with you, “oh, i believe you— but y’thought about it, didn’t you?”

you fall quiet. bottom lip wobbling because you know there’s no way you can possibly escape whatever he has planned for you. you don’t put up a fight when rafe guides you to turn around, when they lay you down and he tells you to stay that way in a stern voice. he yanks on the tie of your robe while you're tummy down, stripping it off of you until you're shivering in the cool air of your bedroom.

bare and nervously anticipating his next move.

out of the corner of your eye, you see him pick up his belt. you’re sure he’s wrapping the leather around his fist, getting a good grip so there’s no doubt in either of your brains that the first crack on your plump ass won't hurt like hellfire.

you smell so sweet and cozy to rafe’s nose, like warm sugar cookies and milk. it almost makes him feel bad for what he's about to do to you. especially when he sees you holding your little fawn that’s been resting on the bed to your chest for dear life, wiping your tears with her artificial fur and sniffling into your stuffed friend. his breathing falters for a second but his hands flex and grip around the leather in his fist nonetheless—

“you know the drill, angel face. take your punishment like a good girl ‘n you’ll be fine— dad’ll take good care of you afterwards.”

5 swats on your ass that you're commanded to keep high in the air. that’s all it is— but that doesn’t mean you’re not in hysterics after each one. squirming and sobbing into your bedding as pain induced heat spreads over your entire body, shakily counting after each one. you’re not sure what’s worse. the biting pain itself or the dull ache it brings on between your thighs.

the number you babble out is always followed by an apology ("i'm so sorry, daddy) and a sniffle that tugs on rafe's heart strings. he's more relieved than you are when he drops the belt to the ground with a thud. by then you're delirious.

rafe’s finger tips graze your stinging cheeks, forcing a mewl out of you before he steps around the bed and sits next to your shaking form. he welcomes you into his arms and you’re quick to grab at him, yanking on the crisp cotton of his button up as you situate yourself in his lap with a sore bum.

“wasn’t so bad, was it?” he whispers against your hairline, but you’re still too stunned to say anything in return—

“y’know, baby— i don’t like hurting you, not one bit, but i can’t have you— fuckin’ talking behind my back like that… especially not to your lil’ pogue friends,” he rubs your sides as speaks, “don’t you respect your daddy?”

“i know.” you whisper into his chest, “i promise i respect you, daddy— s’much… no more talking behind your back.”

“that’s my good girl.”

rafe gives you a fat kiss after that. he tucks his fingers under your chin and forces your pretty, little head to tilt towards him. his lips meet yours in such a needy but delicate way, it makes your head spin as you feel loved but understood in the most fucked up of ways— “my best girl,” he whispers into your pouty mouth while you try to chase after him for more smooches.

he pats your thigh, then his hand travels upwards to rub over the skin of your ass that’s hot to the touch. you wince at the contact.

“stay here f’me,” rafe says, and you’re nodding like a loyal puppy before he even explains himself, “gonna get your lotion and some water for you.”

you’re a little reluctant to let him leave, holding onto his larger hand until he swears he’ll be quick— yet you find yourself smiling as he walks away, head fully in the clouds. nothing about any of this is conventional. you never admitted it was… but maybe you’re finally at peace with the fact that no one else has to understand what happens between the two of you. not even your friends.

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I get a particularly nasty message, I always check to see if they're following me first. Nine times out of ten, they're not. But they're also, unfortunately, the same people who feel entitled to send me multiple messages in a row, most of them heavily steeped in the language of moralization and purity.

Like whenever I talk about painkillers or pain management, I always get a handful of well-meaning people who are maybe new to my blog or are just young, asking me if I've tried diet/exercise/meditation, etc.

Sometimes I'll respond to them. Other times I'll just ignore them because I get those kinds of messages so often it's like white noise, and maybe part of me hopes if they stick around on my blog, they'll learn it through exposure via my incessant bitching.

When you see me responding to someone offering that kind of advice, it's either because I'm at my fucking limit or because I'm hoping it's a teachable moment and an otherwise seemingly nice person might unlearn some harmful biases.

The people who don't follow me are not interested in any kind of conversation on the subject. They do, however, feel the most qualified to tell me, someone they didn't know existed until one of my posts crossed their dash, how to manage my life, everything I'm doing wrong, and why I'm a bad person.

And for them, my disability is proof that I am a bad person because they view health as a moral issue.

If you're sick, it's because you don't exercise enough, don't eat the right foods, don't pray enough, don't do enough. They genuinely believe that if they say and do all the right things, like a Good Person, they'll never get sick.

It's their security blanket against the harsh reality that anyone is one bad day away from disability. One faulty gene, one bad infection, one bad accident away from a life-long diagnosis. And if they do get sick, it's a test. A challenge to be overcome with Willpower as they learn the True Meaning of Life.

It can never just be a simple fact of life that sickness happens. That disability exists without a moral reason.

And it's suffocating.

Day in, day out. Folks who don't know me from fucking Eve telling me I'm being punished. Not always as outright as that. They don't always use that word. But sometimes I appreciate it when they do because at least then they're being honest. They're not couching it in the softer language of leftist circles. Not hiding it behind concern.

Because the truth is, there are just as many folks who think they're liberal and enlightened who'd be happy if disabled people just stopped existing. They don't like thinking about us because it makes them think about themselves. About their own fragility and mortality, and they hate that. They hate that there's something they can't control with their thoughts and actions. That they can't moralize their way out of.

Honestly, it's a relief when people are just cunts about it because I can hit the block button, safe in the knowledge that they were never the kind of person who would see me as a person. But when it's some 20yo kid with their pronouns, orientation, and "ACAB" in their profile spouting the same kind of moralization, sometimes even with the language of eugenics, it feels like such a betrayal. Like a loss.

And perhaps if I wasn't multiply disabled, I'd have the energy to pull them back. To tell them why they're wrong and hope like hell they realize what they're doing is harmful. But then, if I wasn't disabled, they wouldn't be messaging me, so I wouldn't be dealing with it.

I wouldn't be expected to use my existence as a teachable moment to spoon-feed them compassion. But I am, and I do. When I can. Not always with the grace that's warranted. Not always with the thought and compassion I ought to. (And I don't; I acknowledge that. I'm prone to anger and off-the-cuff remarks that are hurtful too. Though I try to keep most of it to myself or save it for therapy.)

Basically, if you've made it this far through the TED talk, don't be fucking cunts to disabled people. Don't tell chronically ill people to try yoga. Don't moralize pain relief. Suffering is not noble.

You need to kill the cop and the priest in your head telling you otherwise.

And also if you're the nice people sending me nice messages. Thank you. It helps cushion all of *gestures* this.

[shu-porang-porang]

First Love / Late Spring

Your first time with Minho (I wrote the whole thing just to picture that last paragraph!)

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Theme: fluff, explicit

Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (do not try at home!!), fluffff, not proofread, 18+ NO MINORS

Word count: 2 k

It’s only your fourth date and you’re nervous around him. He’s not exactly easy to approach, he’s guards are up, he talks politely as if you’re a coworker, and he doesn’t initiate nor seem comfortable with any type of intimacy. If he hadn’t asked for another date, you would’ve thought he wants to have nothing to do with you. But the fact that he wanted to see you again assures you that he’s interested and is doing his best, so you decide to be more understanding and give him time to open up. That’s how you ended up having a movie date with him at your place. You realized he tends to stiffen up way more when in public, probably he’s afraid of rumors and whatnot, so you offered to just stay in, order some takeouts and watch a movie, which he gleefully accepted.  

It's indeed a chill date. Although you’re both kinda awkward, you manage to ignore the awkwardness and enjoy your meal and the movie. Not much is said during the movie, just a few comments on the characters and hard-to-grasp story line, yet these few exchanges reveal more of his true personality and make you wanna kiss his beautiful brain.

You started the movie sitting apart, neither of you confident enough to invite the other for hugs and cuddles, but towards the end, you summoned all the courage in you to reach for his hand, place it in your lap and mindlessly play with it. You see the tiniest smile in the corner of your eye that encourages you to keep going. Oh how bad you wanna bring it to your lips and kiss those gorgeous veins but you control yourself. You have no idea how the movie ended; you were too lost in holding his hand to follow the rest of the story.

He untangles his fingers from yours to fish for his phone in his pocket and checks the time.

“Oh it’s quite late, I better get going.”

Really? Was that it? Has he never heard of Netflix and Chill? Was he really here to just watch a stupid movie? You try your best to hide the disappointment but your expressions always give you away easily, you’re not the type to act. You try to think of sth to convince him to stay for a bit more, but there’s really no excuse that wouldn’t make you seem so desperate. Now that your brain cogs are running fast you realize the constant tapping of the rain that your ears had tuned out, so you give it a shot.

“You didn’t drive your car here, right? And I think it’s quite a heavy shower from the sound of it, you can stay till it’s over?”

“It’s alright, I can just get a cab or sth…” he says but he doesn’t seem so persistent. Maybe it’s just your desperation fooling you, but you sense he might not hate the idea of staying a bit longer.

“Anyways, I don’t mind, you can stay. I’ll prepare some tea!” You mentally face palm! TEA? Is that the best you could do to convince him to stay?

“Tea sounds perfect!” Turns out that was good enough!!

“Alright then!” You say a bit too excited, then get up to hurry with making the tea coz you don’t know how long the unpredictable spring shower is gonna last. 

To your surprise, your little tea party gives way to talking about everything and nothing for hours, the rain long forgotten. It’s like in a night, you got 10 years’ worth of information about him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you put a spell on him with that tea! He opened up to you more than he’d like to admit, so did you. You’re both private people but something just clicked tonight. You feel much closer to him now and hope he feels the same.

When you both finally fall silent and seem to have run out of stories for the night, you bring your hand up to his cheek, caressing it gently with your thumb. “Let’s go to bed, you had a busy day, need to get some rest.”

He leans in to your touch, holding your hand and turning his head to kiss your palm. “If we go to bed, resting is the last thing I wanna do.” It brings a shy smile to your lips, he’s suddenly bold and it makes your heart flutter. You get up and lead the way to your bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, his hand cups your face to bring it close for the sweetest kiss. His lips lock on yours and he takes a deep breath inhaling your scent before kissing you. He slowly pushes you back till the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. He lays you down on it gently, never disconnecting his lips. Each kiss is planted with utmost care, as if you’d break under his touch if he’s not careful. It’s sweet and at the same time annoying. You want him to devour you, to act bolder, to do what he really wants to do. You pull the hair at his nape and tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Thankfully, he gets the hint and his kisses get sloppier and more aggressive as he enters his tongue in your mouth. His hand roams over your clothed body, yanking at the fabric of your dress, you’re too distracted by his tongue and teeth assaulting your mouth that you don’t realize he wants it gone.

He breaks the kiss to ask: “Can I take it off?” to which you manage to answer: “Yes please” while panting.

He helps you out of your dress, lying there in your lacy underwear you feel exposed under his intense gaze, his eyes darker than usual and hooded with lust. The blush that creeps up to your cheeks is visible even in the dim lights of the room. After taking in the sight of your somewhat naked body for a few long seconds, he lowers his body back onto yours while removing his shirt. He kisses a trail from the column of your neck down to your chest. He reaches a hand back to unclasp your bra and you shuffle out of it, giving him access to your soft breasts. He covers them in playful kisses before taking a hardened nipple in his mouth sucking gently which draws a yelp from you and your hips jerk into his involuntarily. Your reaction encourages him to suck harder and his fingers take care of the other nipple, twisting and pinching the sensitive nub to demolition. He’s quite satisfied with your little whimpers here and there; he hums in approval which reverberates through your entire body.

You open your legs wider to fit him in between. As he adjusts himself between your thighs, he slides down, leaving butterfly kisses on his way to your panties. His face is only millimeters away from your throbbing core, he can feel the heat radiating from it. He looks up at you, silently asking if he can proceed. You hastily nod, how could you say no to those gorgeous feline eyes? He flashes you a little smirk before dipping his nose to your covered core and taking a whiff with his eyes closed, as if he’s taking in the scent of a flower bouquet. You’re embarrassed and turned on at the same time. Finally, he removes your panties and discards it somewhere on the floor, and without hesitation darts his tongue out to lick a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. You feel your orgasm building up as he keeps alternating between lapping at your entrance and sucking on your clit. Your grip on his hair gets tighter and your thighs close around his head. To bring you to completion, he inserts two fingers in so he can dedicate his mouth to your clit. Soon after you cum moaning his name, like how you imagined you would. He helps you ride your orgasm and kisses your inner thighs as you’re coming down from it, trying to catch your breath.

He crawls up and moves the strands of hair away from your face so he can kiss you and give you a taste of yourself. “You taste so good; you should try it.” he says before closing his lips on yours and shoving his tongue in, you suck on it, tasting the remnants of your arousal.

“Do you think you can keep going?” he whispers against your lips.

“I sure can.” you reply, closing the gap to kiss his swollen lips again.

He sits back up and you watch him with anticipation. You felt his bulge multiple times tonight, but still have no idea what’s coming for you. He’s fast to unbuckle his belt and rid himself of his pants and boxers. His erection, hard and proud, slaps against his stomach. You certainly did not expect this. It scares you a bit, even though he worked you up well you’re afraid you might need more preparation to fit it in. His hand wraps around it pumping a few times and smearing precum on the tip before hovering back over you, he slides it between your folds to cover it in your juices. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer for a kiss, no matter what, you can’t get enough of those soft lips. You feel his tip poking your entrance and your mouth falls slack once it finally enters you. Your grip around him tightens and breath is knocked out of your lungs as the stretch overwhelms you.

“Are you okay baby? should we stop?” he asks once he notices how tensed you got.

“No… just… a second” you don’t want it to end there, you want him, all of him.

He peppers kisses all over your face while waiting for you to adjust, telling you how perfect you are and how well you’re doing in between the kisses. It melts your heart how gentle he is. You ask him to move and he sinks a bit deeper, and deeper, and deeper until there’s no more room for him to go, yet he manages to rearrange your insides and bottoms out. He stays still for a while, brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut, enjoying the warm hug of your velvety walls around him, then he starts with slow thrusts, testing the waters. Soon the room is filled with lewd sounds of skin slapping and moans. He shakes the bed with each thrust, you hold onto him for dear life, years of dance practice and workout have given him unmatched strength, his precision is remarkable as well. You’re about to fall apart for the second time tonight.

“Min…. cumming..”

“Cum for me…. Don’t forget to… say my name…”

And you do so as your walls flutter and cream around his cock. He keeps pounding into you chasing his own release, your insides are on fire. Finally, the forceful thrusts turn into ruts, his teeth dig into your shoulder as he comes. He bullies his cock into you milking it dry while riding his high, and you hear your name in between the groans leaving his agape mouth. He pulls out and drops next to you. you feel your mixed juices gushing out, soaking the sheets.

He props up on his elbow, his other hand caressing your cheek. “I hope I wasn’t too harsh. You did so well baby.” he says and then leans in to kiss your forehead.

“No, it was great… thank you.” you cup his face and give him a sweet lingering kiss.

You need to get up and clean up, but something about this moment is so pure you don’t wanna disturb it. So, instead, you hug his head, pressing it to your chest. He wraps his arms around you and snuggles closer, leaving no gap between the two of you. You grab a blanket you can reach and cover your sticky bodies.

 You watch the sky grow lighter as your fingers play with his soft locks. Your slightly ajar window lets in the scent of rain mixed with something flowery, it’s jasmine you decide. Birds are chirping but his steady breathing is a far better melody to your ears. The cool breeze and his warmth are the perfect combination that eventually put you to sleep.

[mirukosbitchywife]

hawks, miruko, fatgum, midnight and eraserhead x vigilante reader

REPOST the original one got flagged as s3xu4l content even tho it's just fluff :(

vigilante reader is tame basically acting as a pro hero just without the license, mainly focusing on saving people, and therefore none of the heros reallu care. no warnings just pure fluff

hawks/keigo takami:

-keigo would be a vigilante if he wasn't taken in by the commission. 100% he would not have stopped saving lives even if he got in trouble for it. he might even fuck around and manage to get you an actual hero license if you want one, even a fake one to get out of trouble if you need it

-basically. even as the number two hero he's no snitch and in fact really respects what you do. you guys probably met trying to save the same civilian or something and hit it off immediately

-he lets you follow him on patrols, absolutely no fucks. almost everyone thinks you're just one of his sidekicks and you basically act as one without the hero license. would just use his feathers to carry you away from any particularly hard ass heros (cough endeavor cough) if he needs to

-doesn't have a lot of friends but the ones he does have know all about you (including everything keigo gushes to them about you ugh) and they also don't care, they trust him as a person and a hero so by default they trust you

-probably also insists on training you but most of your spars end up in making out because he has no self control when it comes to you but you're not complaining

-end of day routine with keigo would def start with you two dancing in keigos living room, he just sweeps you up and starts dancing out of no where, doesn't even need music, the sound of you laughing at his antics is music enough for him, you've come to expect it every day when he comes home and it's one of the things you miss most when he's gone on a longer mission

-your rough days always end with you flying, even if you can fly using your own quirk, there's something about being held to the chest of the man you love while he flys through the night sky, placing unwavering trust in him to not let you fall while you admire the stars always makes your heart full, and for keigos rough days, you always preen his feathers, he's not used to anyone touching them besides his fans grabbing at him, so nothing relaxes him more than the feeling of your fingers in his feathers, straightening and adjusting them for him as you go

miruko/rumi usagiyama:

-is so aggressively supportive of the vigilante thing she'd see you out beating the shit out of a villain and be like BEAT THEIR ASS BABE GET EM

-insists on you training with her. if you want to be a vigilante you gotta be in shape enough to go toe to toe with the number 5 pro hero

-absolutely kicks your ass in training but it's okay bc she gives you kisses every time you win a match <3

-if you're not immediately recognizable as a vigilante she Will take you to the boring hero shit she has to go with. no one's willing to get close enough to you besides hawks, because if you're with her she'll glare down anyone who tries to approach her and hawks is the only one brave enough to get closer (she also trusts hawks the most out of all of them and knows hes no snitch)

-has a sixth sense for when you're in trouble, so if you're ever in over your head in the same city as her ur opponent better start praying

-on especially hard days for you, rumi gives a mean back massage that leaves you putty in her hands, on rumis hard days you always do her hair. she finds it so relaxing and loves the styles you do on her and will proudly wear whatever you did as long as she can

fatgum/taishiro toyomitsu:

-taishiro is just That Guy yk u guys probably met because he picked you up by your scruff during a fight you were losing and he jumped in all heroic like *swoons*

-him being That Guy /pos and all his only reaction after dealing with the villain is to put you down and be like woah. hello person i have never seen in my life before this very second right now. you should hurry along i don't want any civilians caught in the cross hairs when the police arrive. anyway random stranger i've never seen ever you should totally come by my hero agency and train in case you know. you get caught close to another villain attack

-guys got a heart proportional to the rest of him how could you not do anything for him he's sunshine personified. if he said jump you'd ask how high he's just got that affect

-he's probably the most chill pro hero aside from like. aizawa. you know how like the bigger the dog the more chill they get (usually). yeah same affect with him he minds his business stays in his lane does heroic deeds on the reg yk

- his favorite thing to do with you is spend time with you laying on top of him <33 he usually takes up all the space on wherever he's lying but no complaints can be heard when you get to cuddle on top of him all night

-end of day routine with taishiro would pretty much be him coming home from work, flopping on the couch, and dragging you to lay on top of him to doze until the food he ordered arrives (even if you wanted to there's no way you could cook for tai after work, you'd have a hard enough time cooking for Any pro hero let alone one who's quirk is dependent on food)

-your rough days usually entail you crawling inside his shirts to be closer to him (in my mind his clothes are probably usually baggy because they need to be able to withstand his full size and after a day at work he'd probably be at least somewhat smaller) and him allowing you to curl up on him like a cat (he probably also pets ur hair like a cat but we don't need to mention that), his rough days probably entail something like baking treats together!! he seems like the kind of guy who really really enjoys quality time with a s/o and combining that with food? his bad day melts away immediately

midnight/nemuri kayama:

-honestly you're probably not even the first vigilante she's dated, if there's one thing nemuri is gonna do it's whatever the fuck she wants lmao

-she's def the type of person to be like rules are meant to be broken

-nemuri LOVES going out with you, you better pray you don't have a recognizable face because there's no way you're getting out of going out to dinner and her dragging you shopping and her showing you off any chance she gets(not that you'd want to get out of that stuff i mean. it's nemuri)

-nemuri prefers working night shifts even when not working at ua so she can force you to take a break when she takes hers and she always packs you food <3

-she also prefers night shifts so you both can protect each other, shadowing one another in case one of you gets over your heads, the other one never being too far

-she probably has a lot of cats and by default they're your cats so usually while nemuris gone at ua you're playing with her cats. (nemuri probably has hundreds of pictures of you with a cat on top of you after you fell asleep)

-her favorite time of day is when you're both home and sweaty from fighting, your end of day routine always starts with taking a bath together, washing grime off the other, using the tenderness to reset your minds after a long day

-she loves to pamper you, do your nails, face masks, anything you want ,and uses her quirk slightly on you after a particularly rough day, and for her rough days you always make sure she gets a foot massage and glass of wine with a book <3

eraserhead/shouta aizawa:

-same shit different day yeah? he probably mostly has vigilante friends if we're honest (aside from hizashi and nemuri of course)

-is definitely used to dealing with vigilantes both a professional and unprofessional sense, nothing you can do will shock him, and you can always count on him to save your ass when things go south, it's like he has a second quirk with the way he's able to sense when you're either about to do something stupid or about to die. usually both.

-you guys patrol at night together, you both prefer working when you know the other is somewhere nearby in case things go south, and more often than not you take cases on together (although Technically it's just him on the paperwork)

-omg what if you guys meet because he saw you feeding a cat and snuck up on you only for you to. notice him? holy shit?? you could sense his presence?? he was flabbergasted. that like never fucking happens

-end of day routine is you bullying him into a shower with you and him making you wash his hair as payment. literally a fucking cat. we both know he wouldn't shower after patrol alone he'd just go to sleep.

-your rough days always end up with you in a caterpillar looking ass sleeping bag with shouta but you'd have it no other way. his rough days are full of cat cafes. they just relax him like nothing else

[hellodarling1357]

Flames and Embers - Cassian x Vanserra!Reader (slow burn)

Summary: As Beron's sixth child, and only daughter, you had spent your whole life being overlooked and under utilitised. It wasn't until Amarantha's reign that your talents were truly recognised for what they were - too bad you were forced to make a bargain to keep them secret

A/N: Hi! This started out as a request I received the other week but then turned into something completely different and so far from the original request that it’s now getting it’s own multi-part story

This will eventually become a Cassian x Reader fic with a bit of angst, fluff, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, and all the other fun tropes we know and love!

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 3k

Being the only daughter of the Autumn Court’s High Lord, alongside having seven brothers to compete with, you had been overlooked for most of your life which was just fine by you.

You had used the cover of being just a female in an archaic court to your advantage and took the time to observe and learn whatever you could. After being forced to witness how your brothers treated Lucien, you had always tried to have his back, which only went so far when any show of defiance from you was met with a beating. When Lucien had been forced out of your home, you had been heartbroken it had come to it but also happy that your youngest brother could finally become his own person and escape the cruelty that had followed him around his whole life.

Eris had always tried to keep an eye on you. He wouldn’t give up the façade in front of the others, however, he would find the time whenever he could to take you out riding into a long-forgotten part of the woods where he would teach you how to fight. The day you landed him on his ass had been one of his proudest moments, but that didn’t stop him from upping the pressure, forcing you to become stronger and more tactful in each step. Knowing that you could easily take on the rest of your brothers is what kept you from lashing out at their comments and actions towards you; with Lucien gone, you had become their next punching bag to which your father turned a blind eye.

Then Amarantha showed up and everything was turned on its head.

It was in no way a pleasant 50 years, however, you managed to stay out of harm’s way, no doubt at the hands of Eris' doing, and managed to avoid most of the horrors that occurred. However, once the human girl, Feyre, had arrived, you made yourself more present in the ongoings of Amarantha’s court, unable to leave the girl fully alone and fending for herself. Your need to help her was further spurred on upon realising that Lucien appeared to be her friend.

Lucien. The thought that your brother, the one who had managed to escape the past 50 years of torment, was now here as well had you feeling as though you had somehow let him down, even though it was completely out of your control. You hadn’t been present the first time Tamlin had sent Lucien to seek out Amarantha, the time when she had so viciously carved out his eye that even some of your brothers seemed somewhat affronted. However, you were there now. You had watched on in horror as Lucien defended Feyre, and then the 20 lashes Tamlin was forced to give after he helped with the first task…

Once Lucien had been allowed to retreat to his room, you had spent the next hour finding out as much as you could about Amarantha's plans for Feyre and your brother. With healing supplies in hand, you ventured into the sprawling court to where you had been told Lucien resided. With a quiet knock on his door, you entered the room and felt your heart break at the shaken, broken form of your brother. Despite the clear pain he was in, he had leapt off the bed at the sight of you and was quick to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Y/N,” He had exclaimed, carefully surveying you for any signs of injury. “Are you alright? What’s happened? Cauldron, I’ve missed you.” Then he was pulling you into another hug that left you in tears.

When was the last time you had seen him? It had been decades.

“I’m fine,” You brushed him off and made him sit so you could assess his injuries. “You look like you’ve seen better days.” He made a non-committal sound in response, taking in a deep breath at the sting of the healing balm you helped spread across his back. You pushed onto your heels, assessing the damage and your makeshift attempt of bandaging the wounds.

“What can I do?” You asked, feeling just as helpless as you did when growing up.

“Check in on Feyre. Please. I can’t…I can’t do anything, not now. And whatever game Tamlin is playing, he won’t go see her. Please. She’s all alone.” You hesitated for a moment but found yourself nodding.

“Of course. Of course I’ll go and see her.” You lowered your voice, not trusting that anywhere in this place was truly safe. “Does she truly love him?” If she did, then you all had a chance of getting out.

“She does.” Lucien answered, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Anything else, let me know, alright? I’ll go and check on her.” You gave your brother a final hug and then slipped from the room, making your way towards the dungeons.

*****

“Feyre?” You whispered into the darkness, the guards were in the middle of their rotation, so you had few valuable minutes to slip in and out undetected, the limited healing supplies and food you managed to take with you were clutched tightly into the folds of your dress.

An incoherent groan sounded from further down the dark, cage-lined corridor. You hurried over, halting in your steps when you saw her sitting against the wall still covered in blood and mud, a pained expression on her weary face.

“Feyre? I’m Y/N. I’m Lucien’s sister, he asked me to check on you, see how you were holding up.” You tried to stay optimistic but the wound on her arms was nothing that you could fix. Maybe before Amarantha stifled everyone’s magic you would stand a chance, but not now when all you could offer were some clean rags, a bit of water and a scrap of bread.

You knelt on the floor in front of her cell, unable to get in without your magic or access to the key.

“I know it hurts, but are you able to move a bit closer, I can’t help you from here.” You cringed as you watched Feyre grit her teeth, slowly moving across the floor, pain evident on her face.

“Y/N?” She asked in a strained voice, you nodded with a small smile, passing her the bread which she quickly bit into. “Lucien told me about you. Said that you were here.”

“I don’t have long, here, give me your arm I’ll do my best to clean it but there’s not much else I can do. At least not right now.” You wiped away the blood and muck that lingered from the first task, trying not to grimace as you took in the severity of the wound. The sound of movement spurred you on, quickly ushering her to drink the water and finish the bread so you could leave before getting caught.

“I’ll try to get back here soon, okay?” Feyre was already making her way back towards the rear wall where she slumped against it. You were almost out when a small voice called out.

“Y/N? Thank you.”

*****

Managing to obtain some of the healing balm that you had used on Lucien's injuries, you kept to the shadows as you made your way back down to the dungeons.

You had been keeping an ear out for what Amarantha’s plans were for the girl; if she planned on healing her before the next task or leaving her in the dark cell to fend for herself. Either way, you couldn’t be too obvious in your efforts to help, lest you get caught and wind up dead for the blatant disregard of Amarantha's orders.

The sound of voices had you slowing in your steps as you overhead the back end of a conversation. Someone was in Feyre’s cell with her.

“Oh, that’s wonderfully gruesome.” You recognised that voice, but surely it wasn’t…

Feyre swore at the male, earning her a chuckle as he taunted, “Such words from a lady.”

You edged closer to the cell, unsure what your next move would be from here but still unwilling to leave her to fend for herself against Rhysand.

“Get out,” Feyre’s voice was frail as she tried to show her strength against the High Lord.

“Don’t you want me to heal your arm? Or is that what Y/N Vanserra is here to do? I know you’re there, Y/N.” His voice called out to you now.

Shit.

You approached the cell; it was too late to turn back. Your best chance was to play along with his games, there was not point in running, not when he knew you were there and that it clearly wasn’t your first visit.

“Hmm, wiping away the grime was a valiant effort, and what’s this you have?” The healing balm disappeared from your grasp, reappearing moments later in Rhysand’s hand. “Well, that’s not going to do much against the infection and broken bones.”

Rhysand turned back to face Feyre, “But how about a trade? I’ll heal your arm in exchange for you. Two weeks every month, two weeks of my choosing, you’ll live with me at the Night Court. Starting after this messy three-trials business.” You desperately shook your head, trying to tell her he couldn’t be trusted.

“No.”

“No? Really?”

“Get out.”

“You’d turn down my offer – and for what? A fool’s chance that this healing balm will work? Or are you holding out for your friend – for Lucien, correct? After all, he healed you before, didn’t he? Then convinced his dear sister Y/N to come down to tend to you after the first trial.”

Now Rhysand turned to face you, giving you a look that had you thinking he could see your every thought, which, you remembered with dread, he probably could. You had never been taught how exactly mental shields worked but you did your best to block him out. It clearly wasn’t enough judging from the chuckle and assessing look he gave you before facing Feyre again.

“The way I see things Feyre, you have two options. The first, and the smartest, would be to accept my offer.” Your eyes widened in anticipation as Feyre spat at his feet, but Rhysand continued pacing the length of the cell.

“The second option – and the one only a fool would take – would be for you to refuse my offer and place your life, and thus Tamlin’s, in the hands of chance.”

Rhysand had stopped pacing, staring hard at Feyre who had turned white as a sheet and looked as thought she may pass out at any moment.

“Let’s say I walk out of here. Perhaps this healing balm will work,” He tossed it back to you, desperate in your attempt to grab it before it could shatter to the floor. “Perhaps Lucien will come to your aid and offer his magic. Or perhaps he won’t come at all. Between you and me, he’s been keeping a low profile after his rather embarrassing outburst at your trial. Amarantha’s not exactly pleased with him. Tamlin even broke his delightful brooding to beg for him to be spared – such a noble warrior, your High Lord. She listened, of course – but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien’s punishment. Twenty lashes.”

Feyre started shaking, eyes darting up to you in confirmation and what looked like betrayal. You hadn’t told her about the lashes.

“Although, from what I heard, the punishment wasn’t overly effective seeing that the wounds somehow healed over within a few hours without the assistance of magic. You would almost think that something like that healing balm you've got there, Y/N, was used despite Amarantha’s order that there was to be no assistance provided.” Rhysand tutted as he turned to you with a smile that made your stomach coil but said no more on the matter.

“So, Feyre, it’s really a question of how much you’re willing to risk it. I don’t need to invade your thoughts to know that you’re wondering if that fever of yours is the first sign of infection. I already know that you’ve slowly been realising that you’re dying.” There was a beat of silence in which Feyre stared back at him with such hatred, you felt your pulse quicken at the thought that it may be too late to help.

“Well?”

“Go. To. Hell.”

Before you could react, Rhysand lashed out and twisted Feyre’s arm, her scream echoing throughout the cell as she thrashed against him. But he kept his grip, twisting the bone a final time before releasing her arm as she half sobbed and panted through the pain.

“This is the last time I’ll extend my assistance. Once I leave this cell, my offer is dead.” Feyre spat at him again but remained silent.

With a disappointed sigh, Rhysand began to ripple with darkness. You weren’t sure what to think; you couldn’t trust him but if Feyre really was dying and this was her only chance of survival…

“Wait.”

The darkness around the High Lord vanished, solidly appearing again with a grin as he faced Feyre.

“Yes?”

“Just two weeks?”

“Just two weeks. Two teensy, tiny weeks with me every month is all I ask.” He was kneeling in front of her now as he purred out his terms. As if suddenly aware of how much time you had already spent down here, your senses picked up, listening closely for any sounds of the returning guards, but there was nothing.

A surge of magic had you turning to face the cell just as Rhysand grabbed Feyre’s arm. She let out a scream before fainting, head falling against the wall.

“What did you do?” You yelled, banging on the bars of the cell in a futile attempt to get in.

“Exactly what we bargained for. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you, Vanserra.” Before you could process his words, Feyre was suddenly sitting up, with the blood and mud completely gone you could do nothing but watch as some colour finally returned to her cheeks. Letting out a sign you offered her a small smile, at least he had kept his word and healed her arm. The remainder of the bargain was something to think about later when you all got out of this mess. If you all got out of this mess.

“What have you done to me?” Only then did you notice the black swirls that covered her skin and the large eye tattooed in the centre of her palm.

“It’s custom in my court for bargains to be permanently marked upon flesh.”

“Make it go away.”

“You humans truly are grateful creatures, aren’t you?” Rhysand stood back up, darkness wafting around him again. “I think I’ll wait to tell Tamlin about our little bargain. I do wonder if he will be as appreciative as you are. Rest up, Feyre.” And then he was gone in a shadow of night.

“Feyre? Are you alright?” You knelt on the floor outside the cage, surveying her for any signs of potential harm caused by Rhysand, but she just looked tired, troubled.

“I’m fine. My arm is fine. I just feel stupid, he didn’t do that to help me, he did it to hurt Tamlin.”

You let out a sigh, “We’ll deal with that later, alright? At least you’re not about to die, so we will take that as a win.” Standing back up you surveyed her again; she was so young and had already faced so much more than most of the fae here. “I’ve been here too long, I need to go before the guards return. But, Feyre, I’ll be back. I promise.”

*****

You slipped out of the dungeons and hurried down the corridor, quickly ducking behind a corner at the sound of the guards returning.

“Hello, Y/N.”

You jumped at his voice, heart hammering in your chest as you turned to face Rhysand where he casually leant against the wall, picking at his jacket as he surveyed you with mild interest.

“I was starting to wonder about what you had been getting up to after all these years here. We never see you at any of our Lady’s…festivities.”

“I must have missed the invite.” You tried to step around him. You had gone this long without piquing the interest of any of Amarantha’s cronies, managing to stay relatively to yourself, and you’d be damned if you were forced to show your face now.

“Interesting,” His violet eyes continued to assess you. “You know, it doesn’t surprise me really. I remember back when we were just children, playing court whilst forced to join in on the formalities. You always managed to remain in the shadows, yet even back then, you somehow knew everything and got away with so much.”

You stared back, eyes narrowing as you waited for him to continue. He clearly had some angle he was getting at.

“Yes. Those particular skills may be useful to me one day. And while I’m in such a giving mood, how about a bargain of our own? You be my eyes and ears,” You scoffed, already shaking your head as you attempted to walk away again. “And in return, I’ll keep your role in all of this quiet. You wouldn’t want Amarantha to know that it was you who helped Lucien, and now Feyre, would you? After all, I’m sure she would be pleased to be reminded of your presence in her court.”

Glaring at him, you knew he had you cornered. The satisfied smirk that played on his face told you that he knew as well.

With a reluctant sigh you stretched out your hand which he firmly grasped.

“Fine.”

“Lovely.”

You refused to break eye contact with the High Lord as you felt his magic encase your upper arm and shoulder, no doubt leaving a similarly intricate pattern to the one now splayed across Feyre’s arm.

You looked down to see if there was any visible evidence of the bargain, but it was completely covered by your dress. Good. At least that would stop any questions from being asked.

“I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N.” And then he was gone in another shadow of darkness.

[daycourtofficial]

It’s so quiet in the world tonight

Lucien x reader

Summary: you and Lucien having a quiet night at home, soaking in the peace, discussing how things will change when your baby arrives

Author’s note: kicking off my 1k celebration with my boy Lulu!!!

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

“I’m just excited to see a babe growing up around here,” Helion said, looking at your belly. Your father in law harbored a lot of regret about not being around for Lucien as a babe and not knowing that he was his until a few decades ago.

It took a long time, but they have a lovely bond and get along extremely well. Granted, neither of them had a hard time getting along with most.

Except Beron.

You smile at your father in law, excited to see him take on the role of grandfather.

“Except the name ‘grandfather’ will make me feel so ancient. Is there any other name I could use?”

He had been going back and forth ever since you told him the news. If anyone could make your pregnancy about themselves, it was Helion. You didn’t mind, though. It was much better than nursemaids and various citizens who insisted on asking how you were at all hours of the day.

It was kind of them, and you didn’t resent them that much, but sometimes you felt more like a traveling carnival attraction carrying the next heir of Day instead of a mother carrying her babe.

You couldn’t blame them - it was exciting. They didn’t get to cherish Lucien as he grew up, and so now they were taking the time to let you know how adored the two of you were amongst the citizens of Day.

Lucien was so loved in Day, and he had no issues making his interest in you known. In fact, one of his first acts as a member of Day’s royal court was courting you.

It made you incredibly glad you had declined Helion’s many previous offers to warm his bed.

A little over a decade into your marriage, the two of you decided to forego your fertility tonic, leaving things up to the Mother to decide. Six years later, you found yourself with a swollen belly, an excited husband, and two antsy high lords.

Eris’s frequent visits to his mother and brother made him the first person you had confided in about your pregnancy. It had been an accident, really. You had only figured it out a few hours earlier, and he happened to be the first person you saw.

It just came tumbling out of your mouth.

Eris had actually been extraordinarily kind following your outburst, after his initial taunt of “is this how you greet people now, sister?”

Lucien found you crying on Eris’s shoulder a few hours later, his brother’s well-tailored jacket tracked with your makeup. If Eris noticed, he didn’t let on.

“I didn’t know your first act as High Lord was to make my wife cry,” Lucien said, striding towards the two of you huddled on a couch.

Eris waves his hand in the air, “I managed to sign two treaties and lift an embargo before I came here to antagonize your wife. She wasn’t first on my list, brother.”

Lucien sits on the other side of you, placing his hand gently on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“What’s wrong, sunshine? Was Eris’s company so troublesome it reduced you to tears?”

You crack a smile as Eris lifts your head off of his shoulder, delicately placing it on Lucien’s shoulder.

“How you wound me, Lu. I’ll be sending you the bill to have my jacket cleaned.”

Lucien’s surprise at Eris’s departure doesn’t last long, as he looks back to you, your tears having stalled for a moment.

“I- Lu, I- I’m pregnant.”

His eyes light up, and you can tell he loses control for a moment because his skin glows a radiant glow, his red hair almost blinding. He grabs your hands, placing them in his, as he asks, “is that why you were crying?”

You nod your head, the action causing a pain throughout your head.

“Are you worried?” He asks, concern on his features.

You stare into his eyes, his mechanical one whirring taking in everything about you. The look on his face told you your concerns were ill-founded, but they still tumbled out of your mouth.

“How are we going to teach them how to read? I’ve never taught anyone how to read.”

His brows furrow, and his eyes light with amusement.

“I think we have a few minutes before teaching them how to read, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

He pauses, cutting you off before you can speak again, “and I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to teach them how to count.”

You and Lucien had sat on that couch for hours, all of your worries melting away with your husband’s comforting words.

And the realization from Lu that you could, in fact, hire a tutor to teach the babe how to read.

The two of you had retired to your rooms after dinner with Helion, where he made zero progress with names for your babe to call him.

The name “Papa Hehe” was what led the two of you to excuse yourselves so you could laugh in private over how much thought he was putting into the names.

Lucien helped you out of your dress, pulling it over your head.

“You know,” he says, putting the dress away and picking up one of your nightgowns, “my taking your dress off is how we ended up here.”

You push his chest lightly, “Lu, I’m so swollen I can hardly walk down the corridors.”

His smirk turns feline, “I never said you had to move.”

“I’m due any day now,” you tell him.

“I heard that pleasure can help induce labor,” he whispers in your ear, tucking hair behind it.

You laugh into Lucien’s mouth as he kisses you, holding you as close as the bump would allow him to. You let him guide you to the bed, and he helps you lay down on your back, your hair adorning the pillow behind you in a halo.

Lucien’s hand caressed your swollen belly, receiving a light kick in response.

“And pray tell, what is my baby girl doing awake at this hour?”

You roll your eyes, giving up ages ago on correcting him. Neither of you had any inkling as to the sex, but Lucien was convinced it was a babygirl.

“She got confused and thought we lived in the Night Court.”

Lucien chuckles as he drags his hands up your thigh, delicately placing kisses up your calf and up your thigh, your moans spurring him on further.

And damn it all if Lucien wasn’t right about his baby girl, who arrived about twelve hours later.

[throneofsapphics]

finding you again epilogue

Azriel x f!Reader

summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it

warnings: implied sexual content

a/n: here's the last part to this little series! thank y'all so much for reading it <3 and thank you to @whisperingmidnights for your help <3

series masterlist

“Your shadow is here,” your sister cooed. 

You groaned. Gods, you were going to kill her. She’d taken to calling Azriel ‘your shadow,’ anytime she spotted some patch of darkness moving - as in every single swaying tree. Sure, it could have been Azriel a few times, but  he had much better things to do than follow you through Velaris on your infrequent visits. He’d made that perfectly clear. 

“Casual,” he’d said. Or had you? Either way, he’d agreed. You both did. 

Pressure built in your temples, the uncomfortable semi-headache that usually accompanied thinking of him. 

A pointy elbow jutted into your side. “There,” she snipped, nose upturned - offended you thought she was lying, perhaps. Or putting on a show. The second option was the most likely, knowing her. 

But you had bigger issues at hand. Mainly the Illyrian warriors strolling down the sidewalk, their massive wings taking up most of the space, females and males alike ogling them. 

You had no right to be jealous. When you were certain you wouldn’t be caught, you ogled them. Any sane person would. Besides, you got to see several of them in vastly different states. 

-

He knew that scent anywhere. The sweet unfurling of a flower, a step beyond your usual one. Sure, he was already aware of your presence but to scent that, and not even see you looking in his direction. Cassian’s hand on his shoulder was the sole thing keeping him from stalking over to you and winnowing you back to -

“Control yourself,” Cassian snickered. 

He shook his brother off, fixing him with a look that did nothing to wipe the smug grin off his face as he kept going - Right. To. You.

Just like that, he was signed up for dinner with you, your sister, and Cassian. He had a sinking feeling in his gut two parties would be missing. It was something he’d do. 

Az was nearly a millennium old by the time he was convinced to retire. By you, by everyone. To you, in private, he groused about the others' opinions. 

You were surprised by how quickly he agreed to retire to the home you’d created so many years ago. Not Velaris. 

Maybe he craved some peace and quiet as well. 

After all, the two of you managed a ‘long-distance’ relationship. His form of winnowing made the moniker redundant, but you still spent a few nights apart each week. 

Not that it had started as a relationship, not even close. In the moments, those years had been full of turmoil and unrest throughout the world, but you’d enjoyed the reliable banter with him, the push and pull that lasted centuries until there was an intervention. 

Mor had become your friend over the last few centuries, and it wasn’t a surprise that she showed up for you out of the blue. 

The surprise came in the room filled with the inner fucking circle of the Night Court. Well, a good portion of them. 

Rhys had a wicked smile on his face, similar to when you’d received the bargain and your heart caught in your throat. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good. 

“Everyone’s sick of you two dancing around each other,” Mor started - and it only got worse from there on. Azriel had inched closer to you throughout it, and at one point you felt him attempt to winnow the two of you out - to save both of you, but the High Lord had prepared for everything. You shot Az a grateful look. 

As soon as there was a pause in conversation, you turned to him. “When is a good time to announce our marriage?” He paled. Just a shade, but you’d made the feared spymaster pale and mother above you’d remember it for the rest of the day. “I’m joking,” you added quickly to the room. 

Less than a month later, the two of you eloped, not telling a soul until after. They had all gloated over how their intervention worked.

taglist: @mellowarcadefun @acourtofbatboydreams @macimads  @sirens-and-moonflowers @tele86 @kalulakunundrum @anxious-study @mika-no-sekai-blog @judig92  @randomperson1234sblog @fightmedraco @caraaaaugh @thelov3lybookworm @tothestarsandwhateverend @fxckmiup @scatteredstardustt @tooweirdtolive-toorareto-die @redcap3girl @boygeniuses10 @anuttellaa @aunicornmademedoit @inloveallthetime @florencemtrash @juniperberriesaries @azriels-shadowsinger @mybestfriendmademe @prettylittlewrites @bubybubsters @emryb @blessthepizzaman @littlelou22 @topaz125 @prrius-tylersapphire  @skylarkalchemist @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @fan-of-many-bands @whatasweetgeorgiapeach  @lipstickmarks @moonlwghts

[randomshyperson]

As It Was (Part 2) - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Once the truth is out, will you be able to forget and forgive the past, or the weight of choices be heavier than the feelings you and Wanda never learned to outgrow? | The Second Part is more based on "Satellite" than "As It Was" tbh. | Part One

Warnings: angst(ish) with happy ending, milf!Wanda, age gap, ex-lovers meeting again, witchcraft lore, some making out but nothing explicit in this part | Words: 6.552k

A/N-> At the request of many, I managed to write a sequel to that one "As It Was". It was much longer than I expected, but I managed to write things that I hadn't done before, so the result pleased me. Forgive me for the lack of smut, it ended up not fitting within the context and rhythm of the story, but there is the possibility of specials. I hope you all enjoy your reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Song-Based Collection

-&-

It occurs to her that you are distant.

Physically speaking, it's quite evident - Wanda hasn't seen you for five days. Not even on her secret getaways from family dinners, school reunions, or anything typical of an American suburban mom's routine so perfectly set up for herself, brings you back. You don't visit her on any of the days that follow, not for lunches or late afternoons, nor do you send either quick or long messages made up of intense declarations that always shake her with all the emotions she might have.

Wanda has no idea where you are, and the lack of control over the situation almost suffocates her. 

But there is something new that occupies her enough not to take action on it. Or rather, someone new.

It's true that time passes differently in Westview. The leaves are starting to turn orange when Pietro Maximoff arrives on her balcony. Wanda is trying to find her footing with so many ghosts from the past coming back at once and she has to admit that her twin brother's presence impacts her enough for her not to escape her house and family in an attempt to find out if you were still in the same motel where she left you in the early hours of one morning almost a week ago.

Wanda tries to focus on the good things in life; she has the family she always dreamed about, complete at last. A husband, children, and even her long-missed brother. She has friends and a house. She should feel happy and fulfilled, or so she tries to convince herself while she tries to ignore the not-so-easy feeling in her chest when she lies next to Vision at night.

He doesn't mind that she's distant herself. Sometimes, Wanda thinks he doesn't even notice. Maybe it's her will, playing with everything around her and ensuring she's not disturbed. In fact, Vision has stopped noticing many things since the last heated argument they had, on the same night that Pietro reappeared. He's just as distant as she is as if he has a whole life going on outside those walls. Wanda could say the same.

She falls asleep with difficulty, and it’s one of those nightmare nights once more. 

When she opens her eyes, she knows she’s still dreaming.

Nevertheless, she allows herself to fall into that fantasy with peace of mind.

The atmosphere is familiar, and the smells and sensations too. Wanda remembers well how things were before Hydra, and before the outbreak of civil war in her country. In the few years of tranquillity at the end of her adolescence, where the revolution group was almost a pastime for irritated young people, for a moment, she could imagine herself as nothing more than a schoolgirl.

Of course, the war would get worse, and almost the entire group of her former colleagues would leave the universities to occupy the streets, but in the safety of the dream, none of this would happen.

Wanda could leave the soft bed and follow the smell of food. She knew she would find you in the kitchen, moving your hips softly to a gentle melody because this was a memory Wanda had never learned to erase.

Her voice came out raspier than she expected once she tried to call your name. But luckily, you were distracted enough by the food to notice the tears welling up in her eyes. After a whole week without hearing from you, she truly believes she lost you once more.

But in this dream, things were saved. Your hands just continued to separate the mixture. “Morning, krasotka (gorgeous). Sit down, there's coffee on the table."

Wanda swallowed, controlling her temper. She watched your back for a moment, trying to memorize every feature of that appearance in case this was the last time and she wouldn’t have another chance before that fantasy ended.

When she didn't sit down you looked at her, offering her an easy smile from a face marked with flour and youthfulness.

"What's wrong, Wanda?"

She moves instead of answering, determined steps until she reaches you at the counter. Your confused eyes close as Wanda, who has just grabbed your belt, pulls you close and kisses you firmly.

It takes you by surprise, but you respond without hesitation. The position isn't ideal, but you kiss her eagerly, as breathless as she is once she breaks the act. Wanda's tight grip around you makes you chuckle softly.

"Hey, Pietro will wake up soon." You warned in the same casual tone, rubbing your nose against hers. "He'll kill me if he finds out about us like this..." Your mouth pecks down her jaw to her neck. 

Wanda giggles tearfully. She had forgotten about that. The teenage fear of telling her protective twin about you. Thinking back at how obvious you two were, she was sure that Pietro knew. To be fair, anyone could notice the way you looked at each other.

You tried to pull away, but Wanda didn't allow it. A sigh escaped your lips, which formed a mischievous smile.

"Behave yourself, Wanda." You warned softly, but she raised her hand to your cheek, the touch surprising you a little. Your curious expression didn't intimidate her.

"Where are you?" She questioned and curiosity gave way to confusion.

"Here, dorogoya, what do you mean-" But green irises turned red, and the confusion vanished once your eyes reflected her magic as well. Your shoulders tensed, and you sighed as if you were tired. 

You tried to pull away and this time, Wanda allowed you to. Your hands reached for a cloth, and the flour from her favorite pastry that you had prepared for her in that memory was leisurely wiped from your skin.

When you sighed again, more calmly you were leaning on the counter, with your arms crossed and your gaze distant.

"That's different." That was the first thing you said, with a small smile at the corner of your lips. Wanda swallowed, pushing her emotions down. She looked in the same direction as you next. "The sofa was dark blue, not brown."

"Some things..." She cleared her throat, trying to hide the urge to cry. "We remember it differently. Some things, they're just... different."

You hum thoughtfully, shrugging. "Yeah, like ourselves."

Wanda fiddles with her fingers. "Y/N..."

"I wasn't afraid to tell Pietro." You cut her off with no emotion in your voice, but seriousness in your gaze. "You were. I was always ready to shout out to the world that I loved you, but you were terrified of his reaction. Why did you change that?"

"I didn't." Wanda fights back immediately, defensive. You look away with a dry laugh, and she sighs. "I didn't do it on purpose. I... It's only been a long time, Y/N. It's hard to remember exactly what it was like."

"I heard that grief changes things." You retort more softly, and Wanda is sure she's going to start crying. She hugs her own body, and you sigh. "When..."

"No." She cuts you off, her voice breaking. "Why can't you just give me this day? This memory? Just... stay here. Let me live it again." She practically begs, but you don’t flinch, stepping away for the kitchen counter to move closer.

Your hands hold her arms, and your gaze makes something in her spark.

"Don't you think you deserve more than a fantasy, Wanda?"

She chuckles tearfully because this has to be a joke. 

"And what choice do I have?" she retorts, tears running down her cheeks. Wanda doesn't have the opportunity to wipe them away, you do so almost immediately. Your instinct is as quick as hers to lean into your touch. "God, there isn't... a day that I haven't missed this. Us."

You smile tenderly at her confession, and Wanda closes her eyes for a moment. She’s just enjoying the feeling while you wait. It takes another sigh for her to ask: "Where are you?"

Being asked again doesn't surprise you. You caress her cheek, and your other hand entwines around her waist.

"It doesn't matter."

She sighs impatiently. "Of course, it matters!" She insists. "I want-I need to see you." She corrects herself and you frown slightly. Wanda lets her hands grasp the collar of your blouse, and her red eyes are almost desperate in yours. "Tell me. Please. Where-"

You kiss her, hard enough for the protest to turn into a needy moan. The hand around her entwines her completely to lift her onto the counter, and Wanda melts. She kisses you as she manages, almost overwhelmed by the longing she has felt over the last few days for the sensation of your lips again.

When you part, she's tingly all over, but your hands don't go beyond her clothes. Your affected breath hits her cheek before you look at her again.

"I remembered."

Wanda almost breaks down in a sob but she manages to keep her emotions around her border. With a sniffle, she guides pleading eyes to yours. Her legs tighten around your waist as if she fears your escape.

"Please stay with me." It comes in a whisper.

You chuckle and Wanda can feel her cheeks burning, her heart breaking. She fears your answer more than she's ever feared anything else in her life.

"You don't understand, Wanda." That's what you say, pulling away and grabbing her hands. Before she can despair, imagining that you were pushing her away, your hands entwined with hers, your eyes tender and intense. "Tell me what you remember."

She looks at you with confusion before denying it with her head. "I don't like... thinking about that day."

"I know, but I need to talk about it." You say, kissing her hands for a moment. "I'm not a memory, Wanda. I'm here. I really am here."

But she shakes her head, her shoulders tensing and her breathing going out of rhythm. "My mind is playing tricks on me... First you, and now Pietro. None of it makes sense. The only thing I know is that I don't want to lose you again. Please don't leave me again."

She doesn't even realize she's started crying. You hug her, trying to calm her down with pats on her back as she wets her shirt. 

Wanda clings to you as if you're going to disappear, but you stay there until the tears dry.

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise." You whisper. "Never again, Wanda. I can't change what happened to Pietro, but I'm staying. Screw the consequences, I'll never leave you alone again."

She looks at you with confusion, wiping her wet face with the hem of her blouse. " What consequences- what you talking about?"

But you smile, kissing her cheek quickly. "It's time to wake up, my love. Meet me when you're ready to leave. I'm waiting outside for you."

Wanda tries to grab you by the blouse, but she wakes up in a jolt. Vision complains low in bed so that she stops making so much noise and Wanda hides her tears in her pillow.

She dares to try to search for your presence around the house, every floor, every room but all there is is Vision and her twins.

Her mind is playing tricks on her. A stupid dream just to try to break the perfect life she has now.

She goes back to sleep and makes sure that she won’t dream of anything else.

-&-

It's not the ideal place or your favorite setting, nor does it have the best food, but the dinner is the closest outside the Hex that you could find, so it's enough.

The back table becomes the mystery traveler's spot (that's how you hear the waitress and some truck drivers refer to you) for the next few days.

It takes almost two for Agatha to show up.

"You're late, witch." That's how you greet her, outside in the parking lot. The cigarette is hanging unlit from your lips, and Agatha snatches it from your mouth before you have a chance to light it. Your relaxed posture breaks, and she hits you over the head with a slap.

"Insolent child! Irresponsible! Arrogant-" You let her hit three more, they don't hurt, and it's good for her anger. The next time she's about to swear at you for something else, you hit her first. 

"Get a grip, you grumpy old woman." You snap. " Don't cause a scene, huh?"

Agatha raises a finger in warning, her eyes blazing with fury before she walks away with an annoyed grunt. 

"You're unbelievable." She retorts, taking up your personal space again. She pulls a box of cigarettes out of your leather jacket pocket and takes one for herself. You roll your eyes but watch her light one, and blow the smoke away. Agatha keeps muttering to herself “Challeging a direct order; what will the council say? In the worst scenario, they will know I helped you and I’m done. This little shit…”

You adjust your posture to lean on one of the parking lot irons, your hands in your jacket pockets. You pull the witch out of her complaints with a question:

"What's the matter with you anyway?"

Agatha chuckles dryly, the cigarette between her fingers. "Your girlfriend."

Your posture doesn't change, but the glint in your eyes is almost sinister. "Watch your next words carefully, Miss Harkness."

It's her turn to laugh dryly and take another drag before turning her face toward you. "What is with little show you put on anyway? Standing guard outside, waiting for Rapunzel to leave her tower?" Her teasing only makes you chuckle. Agatha sighs impatiently. "You laugh now, but the whole place is surrounded. If that crazy witch ends up getting shot, I won't sell you any spells to fix it."

You roll your eyes, snatching the cigarette from her fingers. "Stop talking shit, Agatha." You retort. "There are no agents inside, I kept my part of the deal. Now, if the whole thing's still on, it's you who's not doing yours."

Agatha clenches her jaw, looking at you angrily. You just flick the cigarette, and she rolls her eyes.

"I've had unforeseen difficulties."

"Right." You laugh. "You're getting soft, that's for sure."

The cigarette flies out of your hand with her hard slap. You snort in annoyance, but Agatha is busy pulling something out of her purple suit, back now that she's out of the Hex. It's an old piece of paper that she presses hard against your hand.

"Do as written, it will be irrevocable. He'll be forced to show up." She guides between her teeth. "I doubt Mephisto will explain, but just getting his presence should do some good. And don't talk about me. I still need a big job to get back on his good side."

There's something like gratitude in your gaze, and Agatha waves you away, turning her attention to the barrier not invisible to magical eyes a few meters from dinner while you tuck the paper safely away in your pocket.

"I'm going to end all this crap today, Y/N." She declares, and you look up immediately. "Are you sure you won't-"

"No." You cut in, forcing a smile. "I'd just be getting in the way. Either side, I suppose. Wanda thinks I died, and well, I have no idea how to break the whole story to her. 'Hey baby, you thought I died but I kind of sold my soul to keep you and your brother alive. When that didn't work out for him, I ran away for fear of fucking up your life too, but whatever your magic rank, it's high enough to summon one of Mephisto's riders against his will. Any chance you would want to date me again?'”

Agatha laughs softly at the statement, shaking her head. "Don't forget the part where you're helping a witch take down her little fantasy town."

You grunt slightly. "In gratitude for my memories, only. You're a tricky merchant, Miss Harkness."

The woman chuckles, shrugging. Before she can walk away, you clear your throat and Agatha looks at you curiously. "Anything else?"

"Our arrangement, don't forget." You retort. "You won't do anything against her, or the boys."

Just to torment you, she raises an eyebrow. "No request for her husband's safety?"

You snort, rolling your eyes. "He's already dead." You grumble, and Agatha laughs darkly.

"Until recently, you were too."

"I wasn't really!" You retort indignantly, but Agatha is already turning and waving goodbye.

Alone in the parking lot, you feel the weight of the summoning spell in your pocket. Your boss would have to listen to you at some point.

-&-

Being betrayed by what seemed to be her only real friend for some time felt like a punishment.

Well, maybe it was karma. For what she was doing to Vis, and by God, to all those people trapped and subjugated to her wills, fears, and desires. But Wanda wasn't to blame, or at least, she wasn't ready to take on any of it. There was only emptiness at first, and then there was contentment. Crude and meager, but there. Her peace was as superficial as the magical fantasy surrounding her, and it didn't take long for the fear to creep back in; until finally, she was confronted with the reality of what she and her brother had never been able to accept in their youth: there is no magic formula to fix things. Just as Hydra didn't save Sokovia and cost her her twin, her magic didn't fix her grief but made it even worse.

Wanda would have to say goodbye to her children, and for this kind of pain, she had never been prepared.

Agatha seemed to take some amusement from her agony; a lot of ironic jokes as she searched through her memories. But even centuries of experience didn't rid the witch of her innate arrogance, and just as the Black Widow had once taught her, Wanda saw the opportunity to exploit her opponent's weakness.

The victory was not that satisfying, even if Wanda felt more powerful than ever. 

And Agatha, in a last desperate act, said the name of the one person who would make Wanda hesitate.

With her fingers still in the air, the redhead narrowed her eyes at the witch lying on the ground, powerless and frightened.

"I know you're bluffing."

"I swear I’m not!" Agatha assured hurriedly. "I'll take you to her. I can-"

"She was one of your tricks, then? It's as cheap and cruel as using my brother, Agatha." Cut the redhead off coldly, but the witch held up her hand, asking for time.

"Wanda, by the wizard oath." She insisted, letting out a laugh exhausted by the effort of the fight. "She was one of your tricks, not mine. You summoned her to this place."

Wanda nodded, sniffling a little. "Stop lying! I know she's dead."

Agatha shook her head. "She's not! Let me go, I promise I'll take you to her."

Wanda hesitated, in her gaze, in her posture, in her heart. Agatha continued to insist, and she looked back at her family waiting for her and all those agents around.

She turned to Agatha, who fell silent when her hand was raised again.

"I'll say goodbye first. And I swear if I find that you’re trying to trick me again-"

"I know." Agatha cut in, forcing a smile. "I promise." 

That seemed true enough to Wanda, and Agatha's determined look convinced her. She sighed and nodded, then turned away to hug her children, who were already running towards her. A mask of happiness, despite the heartbreak, stamped her face.

When it was all over, Wanda was physically and emotionally exhausted. She said goodbye to Agent Monica too, realizing bitterly that perhaps that woman was the only real friend she had made since Natasha and that she would have to lose her now too. 

And as she crossed the city limits, she assumed that Agatha had taken the opportunity to escape, and came to the conclusion that she didn't care about that at all. Something inside her broke the minute she had to put her children to bed for the last time. No silly rivalry could really bother her. 

"Look alive, Maximoff." The joke was unwelcome, but Agatha didn't mind. Nor did she get out of the parked vehicle.

"Have you ever heard of magic portals? Or, I don't know, flying?" Wanda asked as soon as she noticed the witch waiting for her from inside the car parked outside the city. Wanda didn't understand how the witch had kept the SWORD agents away from that edge, but her mind was elsewhere to ask. 

The older woman chuckled at the question, adjusting herself to lean her arms on the window and look at Wanda. "Did I mention I like the new look? Did I leave the oven on or is that heat coming from you, hot stuff?"

Wanda chuckled with more indignation than anything. When she was close enough, she sighed. "Just do what you agreed to do."

Agatha smiled mischievously. "Well, you're the one with your back to the show." She retorted, pointing at something behind her.

When she turned, she saw two figures, too far away to be identified. The sunlight didn't help either. The people had been talking for some time and it didn't seem to be a peaceful discussion.

"Who...?"

"Who do you think?" Agatha interrupted somewhat ironically. Wanda's heart leaped, and her stomach did a complete flip. It couldn't be you, could it? 

"B-but she... she was-"

"Yeah, the confusing world we live in." Mocked the witch in the car seat. "She wanted to explain everything to you but she has been a pain in the ass so I'll do it. Your friend made a deal with the devil, in the literal sense of the expression. Whatever Hydra did to her, it almost killed her. Mephisto, being the good opportunist he is, offered her a deal and perhaps because she had two people to protect and a hole in her chest, she accepted without reading the terms." Agatha smiled at her own narration, while Wanda continued in shock, being able to imagine the whole story. "And of course, like any deal with the devil, nothing goes according to plan. Mephisto must have known that the boy would die in battle, so he lied to get your friend's soul. She chickened out, by the way, after she heard about her brother. She thought the same would happen to you if she got close, of course at the time neither of you must have known your true power and authority..."

"Authority?" She interrupted hoarsely, getting a laugh from the other witch.

"By Hecate, young witches these days don't know anything," muttered the woman. "As I said before, Wanda, you are the Scarlet Witch. You're the greatest magical authority on earth. And the fact that you don't know this is exactly why I'm needed." Agatha explains. "You need a magical tutor, Miss Maximoff. Someone to train you, and explain important things, like your magical power to break a contract of souls and summon one of Mephisto's ghost riders as you please."

After everything that had happened, absorbing and accepting the madness of this whole story seemed like just one more little push for Wanda to collapse. 

Lucky for her, she wasn't alone this time.

You finally started walking towards her, until the figures became clearer, and without needing to ask, Wanda was sure that the man with a skull pipe walking next to you was Mephisto.

Everything about his posture was intimidating, and the air seemed much heavier and darker once he was close enough. But Wanda didn't mind the audience, she threw herself into your arms and was greeted in an equally enthusiastic embrace.

Mephisto waved to Agatha from the car, letting the two of you have a moment of reunion as he commented quietly to the older witch:

"I send you to collect an undeserving one and you not only fail, but you make me lose my best rider."

Agatha swallows dryly, annoyed by the scolding. But if there's anything she feels besides fear, it's pride. And that's something she and the man share, and Agatha knows it very well.

"No creature, not even the Lord of Hell, has power against the Scarlet Witch. The humiliation of losing is strong, but you get used to it." She teases, and Mephisto loses his temper, punching the car hard and trying to grab Agatha by the neck.

A scarlet tug pushes him away.

"You filthy hag, how dare you-"

"Watch your temper, Big M." You interrupt with a serious expression, despite the provocative nickname. You gently put Wanda down, who until now had been lifeted in your arms, but you continue with a hand around her waist. 

The man huffs angrily, but visibly struggles to contain his anger, while Agatha hides a little smile and Wanda tries to gain confidence in her new title and the respect that comes with it.

When Mephisto addresses her, he is much more submissive than anyone would expect after the scene.

"My Queen, please, there has been an agreement. With both of the present, this treacherous witch owes me favors and the rider owes me her life. It's not fair that I go unpaid. If I'm not compensated, I'll obviously have to withdraw the loans..." He speaks but Wanda raises a hand in the air, interrupting him.

"I think I understand what you mean. You saved my friend, and if she doesn't serve you, she dies?"

"Yes, my lady."

You tried to protest, but Wanda put a hand on your shoulder and looked at you quickly: in her eyes was the simple request that you let her handle this. 

Agatha didn't interrupt either, nor did she react when Wanda approached Mephisto.

"I've been told that the title of Scarlet Witch makes me the highest magical authority." She begins, and somewhat begrudgingly, the man nods in agreement. Wanda sighs. "I don't understand this power entirely, but I will. What I do understand now is that if I am the authority, you must obey me."

"My lady-"

"I am not done talking." Mephisto bites his tongue, but doesn't risk challenging the red irises again. "Let's make a few things clear, sir. These two don't belong to you, I do not care about the debt. I don't know how to settle it yet, but I will. So for now, you should know that they're off-limits. Agatha will be my tutor, and any extra activity must come with a guarantee that she'll return to lessons in one piece, and as for Y/N, well..." Wanda takes a step forward, a dry laugh escaping her. "She's mine, do you understand? You're not going to harm her in any way. Not ever. You've kept her away from me long enough, toying with her perception of the truth. Of that, I think we both understand well."

Mephisto clenched his jaw, seeming to fight the urge to end you right then and there. You exchanged a proud glance with Agatha at the witch's posture in front of you.

"This will be my only warning, Mephisto. I'm taking her with me, and it's better that she keeps breathing after we leave."

Irritated but restrained, he retorts: "A rider must serve, my lady, and I don't say that to contradict you. Even if she doesn't obey me, she won't be able to ignore the call. Her soul only stays in this body because of its usefulness."

"We'll deal with it without your intervention in the matter, don't worry." Wanda assures him. "And as for your payment, I still don't fully understand how this realm works, but I'll learn with the help of Agatha and the Darkhold. I believe the Lord of Hell can wait."

To Wanda's surprise, he grew friendlier, with a smile full of evil intentions. Without her realizing why the mention of the book made him so excited, Mephisto bowed again briefly. "I see a promising future for our professional relationship, Scarlet Witch."

He adjusts his hat as a sign of farewell, and it's as if the sun changes direction only for rays to obscure her vision for a moment. Just long enough for Mephisto to disappear.

"He's always rude, don't take it to heart." 

The older witch commented, but neither you nor Wanda were paying much attention to her. Wanda came back to you, wrapping you in a tight hug as a confirmation that things were really happening. And as you held her, you exchanged a quick glance with the witch in the car, a grateful one, and all Agatha did was offer the first sincere smile of the day before breaking the moment with a loud honk.

"I'm sorry, but your girlfriend is a fugitive, and flirting in the middle of the street isn't really appropriate for this moment." Mocked the witch, remembering the dozens of federal agents in the area all too willing to ask Wanda for a statement. It wasn't really a problem - but it was a nuisance.

Your girlfriend ignored Agatha's warning to kiss you on the mouth. It almost takes you by surprise, the intensity, but you manage to match it until the older witch honks again and you and Wanda break into a shared giggle.

"Don't worry, we'll have time." You meekly assure her, kissing her cheek before pulling away to open the car door. Wanda doesn't seem too keen to let you go - not that you'd want anything different - so you follow her into the back seat. Even under Agatha's warnings about behaving or she'd throw the car off the first bridge.

Once on the road, the witch met your gaze through the rearview mirror.

"My place or yours?" 

You sigh. "Mine's fine."

-&-

The first fight happens as soon as Wanda finds out that for years, you've lived nearby.

So many days when she could have taken a different route from Avengers Tower downtown to the Compound and bumped into you. 

Of course, you assured her that you kept a safe distance and that New York was full and big enough for that, but the justifications only made it worse.

And Wanda started crying and locked herself in the first room she found on the way.

You tried to look at Agatha on the sofa - very much comfortable in other people's homes, by the way - but the witch shrugged as she used her magic to bring food from your kitchen to where she was. 

With a sigh, you leaned your forehead against the door.

"Wanda, I'm so sorry I left you alone. I swear to God, I lost count of how many times I wanted to break into that tower and just say that I was with you. But I couldn't. I went to the memorial, to visit Pietro. I saw the news about the fight. I saw him die, and I kept seeing it, every time I closed my eyes. And my nightmares replaced him with you. I was sure that if I got close, you'd get hurt, and I'd rather live away from you than lose you." You confessed with emotion, knowing that she was listening even if she didn't answer now. With another sigh, you continued. "I kept my distance, but I never left. I went to all your public events, I even sent you gifts as an anonymous fan. I almost risked everything so many times. And when your friends got into fights and you disappeared to the Raft, I lost my mind. That's when... he made me forget you. It was the only way I could keep doing the jobs and not go after you. But I still lived here, and there was this lack in my chest and I had no idea what it was. Then one day I heard your voice, like a whisper in my heart, and I followed it. I ended up in Westview, and the lack was gone. It was Agatha who gave me back my memories, and we ended up here. With me trying to make you understand that there hasn't been a day since we were separated that I haven't missed you, that I haven't loved you. Please, Wanda. Forgive me."

It takes a long moment, almost long enough for you to think about letting her have more time to think about it, for Wanda to open the door.

She hugs you by the neck, very tightly, and you waste no time in reciprocating.

"Agatha has to leave." That's what she says as she releases you, making you assume a confused expression. You're ready to recall that the witch, despite her mistakes, helped you when Wanda pulled at the edges of your shirt while hiding her face in your collarbone. The way she speaks again makes you understand. "We've lost a lot of time, my love. She needs to go, so we can make up for it."

You nod foolishly, glancing quickly at Agatha who is already getting up without abandoning a bottle of your most expensive drinks that she opened without permission. Not that you're paying attention to anything other than the woman clinging to you.

"You two are disgusting, I'm out." Complains the older witch, practically running out the door as Wanda kisses your neck again and you sigh.

The door had barely closed and Wanda had already pulled your face back to hers, meeting your mouth in an intense, passionate kiss that almost made you lose your bearings.

Your hands wandered across her cheeks in a foolish attempt to gain some control of the kiss, then towards her hair and down her arms to her waist, squeezing and earning a satisfied sigh in return. Wanda's hands were busy undoing your clothes, bursting buttons, and finally throwing your belt aside.

Your blouse ended up somewhere in the room after you kicked your shoes away and while using the interruption and distance necessary to undress, Wanda spoke again.

"All this time you've been keeping watch... tell me, how far have you gone?" she asked between kisses, leading the way to the sofa as she pulled you up by the straps of the barely hanging pants on your hips. 

You fought your own arousal to reply: "Hm, never very close. Except, once..." You try to count between kisses, almost losing your train of thought when Wanda pushes you sit up and looks so stunning with her flushed face and out-of-rhythm breathing standing in front of you. "On your birthday. I went to your window, and I just... watched you sleep."

Wanda let out a curious giggle. "Do you fly now?"

"Not really, it's something called astral projection, I'm sure Agatha will teach you." You mumble quickly, and it's your turn to tug at the straps of her jeans. "Can we talk later? U-unless of course, you don't want to do this anymore, because then I'll need a minute to stop shaking and then I can tell you everything-" She interrupts you with a determined kiss, taking the opportunity to sit on your lap too.

With another sigh, she assures you, "We'll talk later." Those are the last firm words of the evening, really. After that, all that leaves Wanda are begging moans and whimpers of pleasure calling out your name.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

-&-

It's a simple routine, within the normal range of living with two witches and having your soul in imprisonment with the Lord of Hell at least.

Agatha becomes a tutor - it suits her, even if she is grumpy and mean and doesn't have much patience for teaching magic. She ends up doing a good job, and in a few months, Wanda already has the same knowledge that a witch who has spent half her life in a coven would have.

As well as classes with the grumpiest teacher on the planet, Wanda has the Darkhold. You don't see her use it that much, because she always chooses the times of your rider duties to study. That, and well, that book gives you a very bad feeling. But Wanda always makes sure that everything is under control and kisses you until you forget about it.

Of course, over time, people tend to waver in their lies and perhaps because it's a Rider's business to feel dark magic, you end up discovering exactly how bad the Darkhold is for your girlfriend. 

Or maybe the black fingers gave you a hint.

"It's not too much to ask that you be careful!" You were arguing - no, discussing - Wanda's intense study routine with a book that apparently condemned all readers. "Actually, it's quite reasonable for me to worry-"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you!" She interrupts you. Even though she is now twice the age you first met her, Wanda Maximoff is still as beautiful as the first day you saw her. And just as stubborn as the angry teenager she once was. "Do you want to talk about being reasonable? Do you think you made a good decision when you decided to sell your soul, or when you believed you could stay away for ten years and act as if it didn't affect our relationship?"

You hesitate. "I-I... you said you forgave me."

But Wanda snaps back: "Forgiving isn't forgetting! And why do you think I'm doing all this? I have to learn to control my magic, and I have to learn to be the Scarlet Witch. But most importantly, I have to learn to undo a deal with the devil because at some point you thought it was a good idea to be the Dark Lord's little slave!"

"I did it for you!"

"I know you did!"

"Then why are you angry?"

"Because I love you, you idiot!" she retorts breathlessly. "I love you and I hate how stupidly loyal and impulsive you were to do something like that. And I hate the pain we were forced to endure, and I hate that we wasted so much time."

"Wanda, I-"

"I know." She interrupts with a sigh. "I love you too."

You smile. "Stop reading my mind."

She returns the same smile. "There's not much to read." She teases, wasting no time in bringing her hands to your shoulders when you take her by the waist. You chuckle with a false offense.

"Wow, I'd forgotten how evil you can be." You retort in the same playful tone, nipping at her jaw and lowering your mouth to her collarbone.

Wanda sighs, hugging you for a moment. In the bedroom mirror by the wall, she can see her true reflection and all the Darkhold's influence on her hidden appearance. She blinks away from the demonic appearance to focus on the person holding her so dearly.

"You have no idea, my love." She whispers, forcing a smile when you look at her again. "I just want to keep us safe. Nothing and no one will ever break us apart again. I'll make sure of that."

You don't want to worry, or at least, you don't want Wanda to notice your hesitation about the frightening determination in her eyes. So all you do is kiss her forehead and hold her close.

[dean-a-mean-tae]

Take A Rest

Request

PAIRINGS: Poly SKZ x Gender Neutral Reader WARNINGS: Shitty managers and fans. Mention of a creepy band member. Lack of communication which leads to last minute solutions. Male reader requested but I don't think there's any reference to the reader's gender. I think that's it.

Everything had gone to shit. The venue, missing band members, last-minute replacements, and a ton of other issues. All of them were swept under the rug by your manager, Tony, until the day of the concert.

The venue didn't have enough seats. The replacements for your missing band members didn't know the songs. Your lead guitarist and drummer weren't there. Tony decided he didn't want to tell you that the props were broken.

Your drummer got sick after being overwhelmed with stress from practice and her finals. Your lead guitarist said something about having a baby, but you knew that was a lie. That man has been a creepy virgin since you've known him.

Some fans didn't understand the stress you were under. With a recent flux in fans, the demand for a full album instead of songs was higher than ever. And with love comes hate. 

No matter what you did. More music, less music, or different genres of music. Everyone still felt the need to put their 2¢ in where it wasn't needed.

Fortunately, those who attended the concert were understanding of the current situation. None of the issues happening were under your control.

"Remember when I told you all that communication is the key to almost everything?" 

The crowd's screams of agreement echoed in your ears. Every outro on a video, a concert, a fan sign, or other event you exit with a similar speech and farewell; a signature in your fanbase. 

"It appears my manager didn't listen and failed to communicate," You sighed in disappointment. The crowd's mummers of irritation quiet down when you raise your hand to continue. "Nothing is prepared. And I know you paid money to see me and the guys perform."

"This time the concert will be a bit like a fan event-" You wave at those sitting closer to the stage and they scream greetings back. "When we reschedule a concert for you guys, and I'll make sure they do, you can see me perform." 

"How's that sound?" Your grin is showcased on the big screens behind you. Everyone cheers and the impromptu fan event begins.

With a sigh of relief, you walked off stage with the sound of people laughing and cheering ringing in your ears. Your manager was talking with one of the staff, waving his arm around as he shouted at them. With a tearful nod, the staff member left and disappeared into one of the rooms.

Tony followed the girl with his eyes before turning to look at your approaching figure. He glared at you from behind his iPad. "What's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong?" You scoffed, moving past him and into your dressing room. 

You're greeted by your boyfriends scattered around the room. Hyunjin, Felix, and Changbin sit on the couch watching edits of you in your recent music video. Jisung chases Jeongin around the room, narrowly avoiding Seungmin and Minho from their spots on the floor.

Chris is the only one who stands from his spot in your chair to greet you. He catches you as you flop into his arms. Before Chris can speak, your manager busts in and calls you back out.

"Since you want to give away free tickets, you can help schedule them into another concert," Tony grins, a malicious glint in his eyes. 

You need to nap and then find a new manager.

Even in bed, your shoulders were tense and your brain was in overdrive. Thinking of the damage last night's not-concert has, and will, cause. Helping your team to comb through each person who attended the event so you could squeeze them into another concert at a later date. The scolding your manager gave you wasn't helpful.

Tangled in the sheets and limbs belonging to your lovers, their scents pressed into the covers. You were warm and so very, very tired with a sprinkle of guilt seeping in. This was supposed to feel nice. It was supposed to help ease you. 

But why couldn't you relax?

"When are you going to let someone take care of you?" Chris asked, wrapping the curls on Y/N's head in a scarf and bonnet. "It doesn't have to be one of us or someone we know."

"Just let someone in." Hyunjin's hands were warm against Y/N's cold face. His plump lips press butterfly kisses against your eyelids, forehead, and temples.

With Changbin and Hyunjin calling dibs on your sides and Chris laying you between his legs, so your head pressed against his stomach. You're pretty sure Seungmin is asleep, curled onto your legs with his hands gripping your calf. 

Jeongin is sprawled behind Hyunjin with his arm over Hyunjin, and hand on your chest, over your heart. 

Felix and Jisung were somewhere in the dorm causing chaos in the kitchen with Minho supervising. You could hear Jisung yelling at the pots for burning him, Felix's laugh, and Minho shouting about melted plastic.

You'll probably have to clean the kitchen at some point.

"For once, just relax and let someone care for you. Please," Changbin whispered with arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"Don't hog him," Jeongin whined, pulling you back into his and Hyunjin's arms. 

Changbin grumbled as he yanked you back giving a chain reaction of Hyunjin and Jeongin pulling you and Changbin fighting for you to stay in his arms. Poor Chris with him latched onto you, he was tugged in every direction with you.

So, this is what the rope felt like in tug-of-war.

"You need to go to bed," Minho's voice comes from the doorway and everyone's heads turn in sync. He stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips, Jisung and Felix peeking around his shoulders.

"Who?" You ask.

"All of us," Minho answers, carefully curling up in an empty spot on the bed. 

Minho's attempts not to wake the sleeping boy are futile as Jisung dives onto the bed. He sandwiches himself between Changbin and your side, scaring Seungmin awake. He grumbles as he adjusts himself and falls back asleep.

Felix lingers at the end of the bed, looking for a spot to sleep. The moon shines on his milky skin and his eyes reflect the light. You turn so your back presses against Chan's chest, and Seungmin huffs as he turns away from you and tucks his face into Minho's neck. Felix was lying atop you amidst the commotion.

"Go to sleep, Y/N."

You hum, your eyes slipping close. It's warm. It's peaceful.

©️DEANAMEANTAE2024

[scarletwritesshit]

🪶 Sunday x Reader 🪶 Deceptions of Divinity

Once, a man came to you in your dreams.

Or at least, you were somewhat convinced that it was a man.

Penacony had quite the reputation for its strange and whimsical dreams. This dream of yours, however, was not exactly an experience that you would have claimed to have had willingly. It wasn’t a waking dream of mystical immersive amusement parks, or anything of the sort, no. It was a distinct encounter with the most unusual of divinity in the midst of your unconscious rest.

The beginning of this dream of yours was rather foggy. Nothing about it exactly stood out to you, so you’ve neglected to retain any memory of that part. None of the mundane factors themselves were worth mentioning, but what suddenly transpired was what made this dream so notable to you.

It was if it manifested out of nowhere. No buildup, no signs from earlier on in the dream, nothing as far as you could remember.

The sight of this sudden manifestation was at the same time as clear as day and as scrambled as could be. You could recall seeing the vague shape of a man amidst a cluster of massive wings, but this strange figure as whole seemed focused on you, as if it were a manifestation of a singular giant eye from the heavens. Claiming to have been imagining things was an understatement, but this creature, for lack of a better term, was vaguely surrounded by rings of Imprisonment that felt as if they were adorned with a thousand tiny eyes seeing through your very soul.

But was the figure in the center of man or beast?? Or perhaps, some unheard of combination, taking shape of all yet none at the same time. The way this being’s wings flapped around it made it seem as if one individual wing was simply a singular feather that comprised a much larger wing.

Despite all of its strange qualities, the creature radiated a truly angelic presence. If this were the waking world, you would sensibly flee, seeking shelter in an attempt to remain unharmed. However, in a realm where you could not be physically injured, you stood your ground to observe the monstrosity that your mind had created in awe.

By now, you had become fully aware that all around you was simply a dream, yet you could not phase the creature out of existence no matter how hard you tried. You had even attempted to give it a definite shape, which would at least allow you to comprehend it.

If you couldn’t manipulate the creature, you at least had the control to ask it a few questions.

“What are you?” you shouted up at the being.

“What am I?” the creature echoed back. “Why, is it not obvious to the observant eye?”

“I would like to argue that you’re an angel, but I can’t exactly say for sure.”

“Then, you have your answer. I am but an angel manifesting in your dreams. It is as simple as that.”

“Simple? I can’t even comprehend you as it is!”

“Ah, but not everything in a dream is to meant be comprehended. That, my dear, would eradicate the point of their existence.”

This so-called angel did not seem to be willing to divulge its secrets so easily. Why couldn’t you shoo it out of your mind? Why did its voice feel as if it was echoing through your physical body? And why, unlike the dreamscape around you, did you feel as if you could reach out and touch a stray feather flying loose from its wing-like structure?

The encounter felt all too real for the setting of a dream-like world. You knew that turning and running would prove rather futile, but it was your mind after all, and you did have the potential to imagine yourself running as far away from that thing as possible.

No matter where you thought of escaping to, the creature somehow managed to follow. You could imagine yourself traveling at speeds exceeding light years throughout the universe, traversing worlds that could not even be physically comprehended, and yet the being somehow remained directly above you, seemingly in a fixed position.

“Now, why are you attempting to escape?” the creature asked. “I cannot hurt you, even if I tried.”

You ceased your attempts to distance yourself and instead stood up to creature and looked at its incomprehensible center, where you assumed its host resided.

“I can’t free my mind of you, and honestly, it’s freaking me out,” you admitted.

“There is no reason for you to be distressed. Your eyes deceive you, as my appearance alone cannot account for who I truly am.”

“That’s the freaky part. I cannot make sense of you.”

“Surely, I am a bit of an unusual visitor, but this is merely my way of introducing you to the wonders of Penacony and what it has to offer.”

“Your idea of being welcoming is, indeed, a bit unusual.”

“My mistake, perhaps you haven’t exactly had much experience talking to many wonders of the universe yet. Most travelers I have encountered thought of me as nothing more than one of this planet’s unique inhabitants.”

“There’s a difference between strange inhabitant and straight-up eldritch being,” you said, attempting to convey to the “angel” that its incomprehensible form was far from ordinary, even to one familiar with beings as twisted and warped as Aeons.

The flapping of the being’s wings appeared to have slowed down, almost drooping, at your remark.

“Hmm, I shall forgive your comment, for I believe you know not what you speak of,” it said.

Fearing that you may have accidentally upset the divine being, you quickly scrambled in an attempt to rectify your wording, but before you could begin to utter a sentence, the creature’s voice echoed once again.

“Perhaps, you would appreciate a more…approachable form?” it inquired.

“You couldn’t have offered that sooner?” you said, attempting to not blatantly allude to your frustrations.

The wing-like structures began to fold into its strange core, yet you still could not tell if it were one large wing circling its entire body or many. It seemingly morphed in a swirl of soft gray-blue feathers, with some as small as a Xianzhou Luofu tit brushing against your face. They were surprisingly soft, surprisingly gentle, and most unusually, soothing in the most eerie way.

Once the feathers had dissipated, a tall gentleman emerged from the midst, with hair a soft gray-blue like that of those feathers that once engulfed his body. He was dressed in a white coat and light purple pants, with accents of gold, cyan, and lilac adorning his suit. His eyes had an intense golden shine, and he looked at you with such a strange sense of fondness.

The most notable of his features, however, were the golden halo behind his head and the two little wings that remained behind his ears.

That was more of your definition of an angel.

“My sincere apologies,” he said, extending a gracious bow, “I should’ve exerted more caution when presenting myself to graciously welcome you to Penacony.”

You wanted to briefly snap at him as this felt like a blatantly obvious fact to consider. Welcoming someone in their dreams while appearing as a creature describable as only a mix-match of adjectives was far from comforting. Just this once, you forgave him, as a sliver of empathy caused you to consider that, perhaps, angels weren’t exactly accustomed to comfortably greeting a human.

“No harm, no foul,” you said, shaking your head. Showing the angel understanding was perhaps be your best bet as to not entice hostility.

“Now, allow me to provide you with a proper introduction. I am Sunday, a representative of Penacony’s Family,” he said, extending out his hand.

He was a very handsome man, so you decided that perhaps, it wouldn’t hurt to put just a little bit of faith in him. You placed your hand in his, and he held onto it ever so gently. Sunday lifted your hand up and gave it a very gentle kiss on top, a gesture that managed to send a shiver through your body even in the real world.

“I sincerely hope that you enjoy your time here, and experience all of the wonders that Penacony has to offer,” he said, while gently stroking the top of your hand with his thumb.

He looked at you with almost a tinge of desire in his eyes. It was as if Sunday wanted to see you in the waking world, though you had no idea how to seek him out, that is, if hunting down an angel would even be physically possible. It was hard to resist taking a chance, as something about him drew him to you, even after seeing Sunday initially present himself to you as an eldritch angel.

The most sensible explanation of his silence was that he was hiding something that prevented the reunion of you two in the real world, but you decided to not press the question.

“Ah, you seem…surprisingly comfortable now,” Sunday noticed. “Does my difference in appearance truly make such an impact on one?”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting such a creature to take the form of a handsome man in my dreams, if that answers your question,” you said, somewhat lost in observing Sunday’s surprisingly gentle mannerisms.

The wings behind his ears perked up a little at hearing you speak of him with such fondness, despite having only just met, under these circumstances nonetheless. It was as if his eyes were now filled with a sense of hope rather than an unspoken longing, yet he still attempted to retain his formal tone.

“You flatter me, truly,” he said with a gentle laugh.

The little smile that was once full of nobility suddenly went soft, and you felt the tension and stiffness in Sunday’s body ease. It was all supposed to be in your head, yet why did it feel so genuine?

He was a divine being, yet his touch felt as soft and gentle as that of a human who cared deeply. You have only just met in this dream world, and Sunday seems to have taken an immediate liking to you. It almost inclined you to jolt yourself awake and seek him out as soon as possible, but the look of happiness on his face kept you asleep, allowing you to cherish the meeting just a tad bit longer.

Sunday’s soft look of desire and refusal to separate his hand from yours were the last things you clearly remembered before you woke.

That morning, you desperately searched for some sort of sign, anything, that your experience was as real as a dream could possibly be. The physical meeting with a man in the world of dreams seemed impossible, but you knew yourself that what you felt was genuine. In your half-asleep state, it took you a while to realize that you had been gently holding a large, gray-blue feather akin to the ones that you saw in your dream.

It was all that you needed to confirm that Sunday’s existence was not your mind simply playing tricks on you.

Seeking an audience with the Family would prove to be impossible, given both their status and popularity. You hoped that by some sheer luck, the two of you would cross paths, but it seemed highly unlikely that he would be roaming so freely among the streets of Penacony.

In a back alley out of sight among the crowds, a glimmer of gold caught your attention. You turned to see what it was, only to be greeted by a man beckoning for you to come forward to join him in taking shelter from the city’s bustling streets. Letting curiosity take over, you walked over to him to get a better look, since that shine of gold could possibly mean that...

“Sorry, but have we met before?” you asked him.

The man matched the sight of the one that you saw in your dreams perfectly. He glanced down at the feather that you were holding in your hand, and so your eyes followed his gaze reminding you that you still held it. Just to be sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you, you held the feather up by him, comparing it to the small wings that were behind his ears.

The characteristics of this feather matched those of his wings perfectly.

“I believe we have,” Sunday said, with his wings perking up and eyes once again filling with hope.

[sukified]

— his favorite ho.

❀ katsuki b. x fem!reader

❀ outline. teeny tiny drabble because i saw a car sex twt vid and it made me miss kats

❀ w. 18+ content, dirty talk, very light assplay, katsuki has anger issues, riding, car sex

❀ do not repost thx

katsuki has had a long fuckin’ day.

higher ups yapping in his ear and telling him that his poor attitude towards civilians has become a daily topic and he’s had enough. everyone who knew of the pro knew that his temper was short, that he wasn’t saving people to be friendly. no, he was doing his job, keeping japan safe and sound under his supervision without fake flowery bullshit.

not only that, his anger management classes have been kicking his ass. it was a requirement as soon as they threw katsuki on the front lines— he needed to attend regular sessions. it was believed that going to talk about his feelings, forced out of his protective shell of aggression and anger, would improve his performance.

whatever the hell that meant.

you know full and well how katsuki has been feeling about his current predicament. he brought it up all the time over whatever fancy dinner he treated you to, complaining about responsibility and growth and the likes. the man simply needed emotional guidance, he needed to learn healthier ways to deal with his feelings and mental hurdles because they were strong. everything about him was so very strong.

though, when he didn’t feel like running an irritated hand through his mop of thick ash hair while he spewed profanities about his braindead therapist or his dick-sucking bosses, he’d keep you stuffed.

it was a particularly taxing day on his end, seeing as though spring tends to bring out the evil motives and the villains. popping off explosions and knocking wrongdoers the fuck out could only go so far for his stress, for his mental constipation.

no, today he needed more. he needed to shut his brain up, needed to direct the anger and resentment and frustration elsewhere. what better way to deal with his problems than take it out on his pretty baby?

“been forever since i’ve given you good dick, hah?” katsuki hisses as his head lolls back lazily, thunking against the sleek leather of his backseat, rough hand planted limply on the curve of your waist. you look godsend hovering over him, your shoulders flexing as you grip on his thick thighs, trembling like a goddamn leaf as you fight to keep yourself up.

he’s got you riding him because he’d be damned if he put any extra effort into the shitty day. today was your day to take control, a rare one because he couldn’t be bothered. katsuki had called you up as soon as his patrol ended, voice void of emotion in fear that he’d end up snapping at you for any minuscule reason. after all, you hadn’t done anything wrong to deserve his berating.

your pussy cries and sobs as you bounce on his cock sensually, the strain making your mind fog up and blank on your train of thought. it was almost a routine for the pro to use your body for a nice shutdown, you felt it was the best way to thank him as a citizen. he sought you out on his worst days and you never failed to follow through, something he fucking adores about you.

his jaw is slack, blonde stubble decorating his skin, tongue slithering out to lick at his lips. you were so damn wet and tight around him, it was just enough to help him block out the spiel he had received earlier in the day about working on his rescue skills. nah, he didn’t need to change himself for the sake of others, you seemed to like him just as he was.

“shit, you’re filth. jus’ a filthy girl,” the sound of his voice, mumbled and distant, makes your cunt throb. your walls suction him tight, coating him in a glossy mess of your pussy drool. he swears he could die happy right here and his mind is nearly blank as he slips a thumb in your ass, huffing out a quiet chuckle at the way your back arches immediately.

no matter how nasty his attitude can be, you come back for more. you always do.