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daydreaming-nerd · 3 months

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Implode (Azriel X Female! Reader)

Summary: You were an anomaly. 300 years ago you fell from the sky, a star personified, taking the form of a High Fae. When Rhysand found you and realized your power you became a part of his inner circle. It wasn’t until years later that you realized that his spymaster was your mate. Still the question lingered in your mind leaving you never fully satisfied, “Why am I here?” Perhaps the losing battle with Hybern would answer that.

A/N: Just thought I would take some time and get some Azriel on the masterlist! And hey look I wrote something where they don’t suck and fuck. But don’t get used to it, as a scorpio it ain’t really my style.

Warnings: Heavy angst, alludes to smut (you knew there was gonna be a lil somethin it’s Azriel for christ sake), blood, I wrote this in the middle of the night so probably grammar mistakes

Words count: 4646

(All pictures are from pinterest)

The war with Hybern was an ongoing one, and one that’s been hundreds of years in the making. So far the Night Court had yet to engage but I could feel Rhysand growing restless. Velaris was safe, but for how much longer? A few months ago he talked about taking the fight to Hybern, sooner rather than later, in order to try and protect his civilians. As his third in command I agreed with him.

I became Rhysand’s third in command several years ago after finally earning his trust. I wasn’t always part of his beloved inner circle, in fact when I fell from the sky I spent the first month on Prythian in the Hewn City dungeons. Rhys wanted to know why I had fallen into his court, but the truth was I didn’t know. The only memory I had was an image of the night sky, followed by falling, and then Azriel found me in the grass. Of course this wasn’t a good enough answer for the High Lord but after Rhysand finally realized that I was telling the truth about where I was from. We spent the next several years trying to figure out how it could be but found nothing.

Nevertheless I grew to love Velaris and the place I now called home. I loved late night drinks with Mor, decorating the townhouse with Cassian for Solstice, talking politics with Rhysand, teasing the others with Amren, but most of all I loved Azriel.

Even though Azriel was the one who found me, the bond didn’t snap into place right away. I had always had an affinity for the Illyrian, and even though I was once a non-sentient being, I knew that by all standards he was gorgeous. He seemed to have the same attraction to me as well, though we never acted on it. It wasn’t until a drunken night at Rita’s about 100 years after he found me that we realized we were mates.

The inner circle had gotten together for dinner, and dinner had turned into a couple bottles of wine and a couple turned into way too many. Azriel and I had been throwing flirty glances back and forth all night, finally having the liquid courage to do so. I ended up being the first to leave that night and of course Azriel offered to fly me home…

“There is no way you’re walking home, not in those shoes,” Azriel laughed.

“What’s the matter with my shoes?” I protest swigging the last sip of my wine.

“You’re gonna bust your ass starchild,” Cassian said using my nickname he gave me years ago.

“I most certainly am not!” I slur. I go to stand up from the booth to prove my point and nearly topple over causing the table to shift and Mor to spill some of her wine. The whole group erupted in laughter.

“Come on y/n, I’ll fly you home,” Azriel chuckled, rising from the booth.

I braced myself on his shoulder to slip the stilettos off my feet so I could hold them in my hands. The second my bare feet hit the ground I was reminded by how much larger he was than me, and in my wine drunk state my stomach bottomed out in arousal. I waved goodbye to everyone as Az led me out of the small club.

“Tonight was fun,” I smiled drunkenly, my feet touching the cold wet cobblestones just outside Rita’s. I started to wobble a bit when Azriel grabbed me by my waist and hauled me up. All I could do was look into his golden eyes as I felt his hand spread across the bare skin there from my backless dress.

I didn’t think twice before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in for a kiss. The second I did it I realized what I had done, and I would’ve panicked if it had not been for the moan that fell from his lips as I pulled back. His other hand hit my waist pulling me closer to him making me stand on my tip toes. I felt my back hit the wall outside Rita’s as he deepened the kiss.

“God I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he groans, grip tightening on my waist.

“Then what’s keeping you from doing it again, Shadowsinger?” I smirk.

“Not a damn thing,” he smiled, connecting our lips again.

I was a mess of pure lust, because just like him, I had been dying to do this for years. Even dreaming about it on several occasions. But to have it happening was the most intense feeling I had ever known. My head was so clouded with need that I barely felt his mouth leave mine to kiss my neck. I tangled my hands in his hair pulling him closer and he reached his hands under my legs and picked me up so I wouldn’t have to strain to meet him.

He kissed a spot on my neck that was particularly sensitive, coaxing a moan from my mouth that drove him so wild he bit me. That was the moment we felt it. That mating bond snapping into place. He whipped his head back to meet my eyes, looking to see if I had felt it too.

“Oh my gods,” I breathed.

“We’re mates,” he stated though his own ragged breaths.

“Yes, mates,” I choked out, my brain still too cloudy to say anything as I searched his face for a sign of dread. Maybe he didn’t want to be mated, to me.

A smile broke his lips as he pressed his forehead to mine, “We’re mates,” he said again like he was trying to assure himself it was true.

“We are,” I giggled, happy to see that he was okay with this, that he wanted it as much as I did.

“You’re my mate,” he smiled, brushing stray hair from my face.

“Your mate,” I laughed joyously, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. I heard the door to Rita’s swing open.

“I knew it!” Mor screamed drunkenly. “I knew they were secretly dating, Cassian, you owe me 50 gold!”

“Not dating, mates.” Azriel barked proudly.

“Ha! Mor you owe me 100 gold now!” Rhysand laughed at Mor.

“That’s too bad Az I was hoping y/n could give me a ride later,” Cassian taunted earning a possessive growl from Azriel. The whole group laughed.

Needless to say Azriel flew me to the cabin in the Illyrian mountains that night and we didn’t leave for two weeks straight.

…that was years ago and since then our family has had new additions like Rhysand’s mate Feyre and her sisters. One thing hadn’t changed though, me and Azriel’s mated bliss.

I was waiting in the townhouse living room with the entire inner circle to talk about war plans. Well, most of the inner circle, Cassian and Azriel had taken a trip to inform the Illyrians that war was indeed coming and had been gone for a week.

“Thanks again for the wine, Rhys!” I smile, holding up my glass and clinking it to Mor’s.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to thank the person you stole the wine from,” he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe not, but it makes me feel less guilty about it,” I laugh while taking another swig. I sit and observe Rhys watching Feyre’s every movement, feeling warm and fuzzy from seeing him so happy.

Almost as if in response a shadow brushes down my cheek and I see Rhysand’s eyes flit up behind me with a smirk. I turn in my chair to find Azriel leaning in the doorway.

“Az!” I yell, jumping up and thrusting my wine glass into Mor’s hand. He gives me a knowing smile as I jump into his arms.

“I missed you too, my little star,” he smiled holding me close.

Cassian walked in just moments after and we joined the others in the living room. The second we were seated, and Rhysand stood to address us, it was like all the joy was sucked out of the room. We all knew how serious the topic was, and how even though we had spent many months avoiding it, it had finally come to call.

“I’ve heard reports that Hybern’s army is gathering, and it’s bigger than we expected,” Rhys stated.

“How much bigger?” Amren inquired.

“We once believed his army to be 70,000 men, now we know that it's over 100,000.” he replied grimly. My heart sank at his words.

“Well what did Devlon say?” I ask Azriel.

“He said that the Illyrians would fight, but if Hybern has an army of over 100,000 it’s still cutting it close.” Az replied.

“How close are they to being fully assembled?” Cassian asks.

A beat of silence passes and Rhys looks to Feyre, “By the end of this week they will be on Prythian soil, maybe next week if we are lucky.” he divulges.

“What if we called upon Bryaxis? The Bone Carver? The Attor? They might come to our aid.” Feyre pointed out and I didn’t miss the wince from Cassian at the mention of Bryaxis.

“That could help,” Rhysand nodded. “But there’s no telling what they’ll do once the battle starts.”

“But it’s worth a shot is it not?” Mor urged.

“We can look into it,” Rhysand nodded once more.

The rest of the night was filled with more talk of strategy and thinking of potential allies to call upon, but in the end Feyre’s suggestion was the best one. We all left the townhouse feeling more somber that night, something that rarely happened when we were all gathered together. Azriel flew us home and neither of us said anything. I thought about what Rhys had said, and how we were resorting to calling upon monsters to come to our aid. It wasn’t until after Azriel showered that he finally spoke up.

“You have no idea how good it feels to be home,” he groaned, flopping on the bed. I had slipped into one of my nightgowns and was sitting under the covers reading my book.

“I’m glad you’re home,” I smiled, running a hand through his wet hair. He plucked my bookmark for where it was beside me and placed it in my open book. A habit that he picked up years ago when he grabbed my book from out of my hand in exchange for a kiss and didn’t bookmark where I was. I had never been so furious with the man.

“Come here you,” he said, tossing my book to the side and pulling me into his chest. I giggled as he wrapped his arms around me, and breathed in. “You smell so good,” he practically groans.

“You mean I don’t smell like a sweaty Illyrian?” I chuckle, pressing a kiss to his bare chest.

“Yes, precisely,” he laughs, looking down at me with love and adoration. “Have I ever told you that you get kind of glowy at night? Like you literally have a faint glow about you.”

“Well I am a star,” I smile, pulling my hand out of the cocoon he has me in to let some starlight dance off my fingers.

“How could I ever forget,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my brow.

A moment of silence passes and I can’t help but think about the war again, this time I don’t keep quiet about my fears.

“What do you think we’re going to do about Hybern?” I whisper.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “All we can do is hope that our allies come.”

“But even then, will it be enough?” I ask.

“It might be, but there’s no telling.” he states honestly.

“Could this really be the end of everything? Everything we’ve ever known will be ripped away from us. Velaris, our family, the two of us.” I confess.

“Hey,” he coos, taking my face in his hands, “Don’t think like that. We’re going to figure this out. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“And who’s going to take care of you?” I ask, tears brimming my eyes.

“Rhys and Cassian,” he says. I know he feels my fear too, that he’s trying to put on a brave face for his mate. But the fact of the matter is that this is war, and not everyone is coming home. Part of me wants to interrogate further, but I know no matter how many times I ask or rephrase the question, I’m going to get the same answer. Because at the end of the day, neither of us knows what is going to happen.

So I just burrow my head into his chest and say, “Don’t you dare leave me Az.”

"Never mate, never."

That night I dream of clashing swords and soaring Illyrians. I hear war cries and screams of agony. I see blood and mud and bodies skewed across a battlefield. I smell death and decay and burnt flesh. I feel dread and despair. But then there is a blinding light, and there is peace and I hear nothing at all.

I wake the next morning from my dream and slip of out Azriel’s grasp, thankful that he was so tired from the trip from Windhaven that he doesn’t even stir. I get dressed and make my way to Rhysand’s town house. It had taken me all morning to realize what I had been shown in my dream, what it meant. I could only hope that my High Lord would understand it as I did.

I reach his office door and hesitate to knock. I don’t know why, I’ve known the man for hundreds of years. Eventually I do.

“Come in,” Rhysand beckons.

I step in and immediately wish I had kept my mental shields up, I feel Rhys probe my mind and catch a small glimpse of my thoughts. Before he can speak I cut in first.

“We need to talk to Rhys,” I say curtly.

“No y/n we aren’t having this conversation,” he dismisses me turning back to his papers.

“Rhys, I can end this war,” I argue.

“I won’t let you, not in the way you are thinking right now,” he bristles.

“Rhys, listen to me! I can take out the king and half of his army before he even lands a blow on you guys!” I inform him.

“How?” he stops and asks in a demeaning fashion.

I take a deep breath and take a step closer to him. “What do stars do when they die Rhys?” I say slowly.

A deafening silence fills the room, and I see his violet eyes fill with an understanding and realization.

“They explode,” he states.

“And they take Hybern and half of his army with them,” I reiterate, bracing my arms against his desk.

“You would die though,” he states in a way that’s more like a question.

“Yes I would die,” I confirm.

“You would do that to Azriel?” he asks, not believing what I was saying.

“No, but I would do it for him,” I say earnestly.

“Absolutely not, I won’t let Azriel lose his mate.” he says and it sounds more like an order.

I don’t flinch. I knew Rhysand would say this so I continue with my already prepared speech. “You’ll change your mind. When you realize you have more to lose than you originally thought. When you realize that your mate’s life hangs in the balance. That all you’ve gained lies in the balance. You’ll change your mind, and I’ll be ready when you do.”

“So I’m supposed to sacrifice you to save myself? Sacrifice Azriel’s mate to save my own?” he argues.

“You’re not sacrificing me. I’m choosing this. Choosing to give Azriel a chance to live. A chance at life… My final gift, to him, to all of you.” I start. “My whole life, it has never made sense as to why I’m here. Why a star fell from the sky and just happened to find Azriel. But now it does, this was the reason.” I explain.

There’s another silence in the room as Rhysand takes in all that I’ve said. My explanation for being here. Because I was right, it never did make sense that I would be a star personified. Yet here I was.

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” he says sadly, seemingly accepting that this might be the only chance he has to save Prythian.

“This is war Rhys, not a fairytale. Sacrifices must be made, for the greater good.” I say firmly.

“How are we supposed to tell Azriel this plan?” he asks, running a hand through his hair, stress evident on his face.

I know that everything I’ve told Rhys up until this point has angered and hurt him, but I have one last bandage to rip off, “We’re not going to tell him,” I deadpan.

“Y/n you know-”

“That he won’t let me do this?” I cut him off. “Yes I do. That’s why we can’t tell him. I’ve made my choice, telling him won’t change anything. But it will taint the time we have left together. Let us have this last little bit of time and then I will end this war so that you can have more.” I plead.

Rhys doesn’t say anything as he once again takes in my words. But I see the acceptance in his demeanor as he stands up and walks around his desk. He doesn’t speak, he just pulls me into his arms and hugs me. I throw my arms around him as a tear falls from my face.

“You are the bravest person I’ve ever known. I can never repay you for your sacrifice, all I can do is promise you that you will forever be honored and remembered in this court,” he says and I can feel him crying.

“But there is something you can do,” I say.

“What? I’ll do anything.” he backs away to look me in the eye.

“Don’t let my sacrifice go to waste. Make sure that Azriel lives when all this is said and done.” I beg him, a tear slipping from my eye.

The war comes quickly after that. or perhaps it just feels like it does because my life is suddenly on a timer. It isn't long until Hyberns forces gather on the shores of Prythian. We gather the Night Court's Army, the Illyrians and all the allies we can and march to meet them.

The war camp is a mess of fires, blades and soldiers of every kind. I’m practically glued to Azriel’s side, not only because I’m trying to soak up every lasting moment with him, but because he said, and I quote, “I would rather die than leave my devastatingly beautiful mate alone in a campsite full of war bound men looking for one last lay before the battlefield.”

The night before the battle Azriel made love to me in our tent, neither of us daring to say that it could be the last time we would ever get to lie with one another. Only Rhysand and I knew about the plan. It was too risky to tell anyone else, and like I had explained to Rhys before, I didn't want Azriel and I’s last days together to be tainted with constant tears. If I was going to die, I wanted us to be us.

That’s how we found ourselves here, at the front lines, our entire army behind us. Thankfully we were on top of a hill giving us somewhat of an upper hand. Bryaxis, The Bone Carver, and The Attor had in fact come to our aid, giving them the upperhand to deal with those who went unaffected by my blast. As we looked out over Hybern’s army that was a little over 400 yards away I couldn’t help but to cower into Azriel’s side. I looked to see Feyre doing the same to Rhys behind us. He made eye contact with me, and as I heard Hybern’s army in the background I knew it was time.

I stepped away from Azriel’s side and faced him. Took in every single curve of his face, and the way that his eyes caught the sun. I ran my hand down his cheek and he gave me a half smile. I prayed to whoever was listening, that I would remember his face. That wherever I went next I would have the ability to remember every moment I got to share with him in this world, and be grateful for what a gift it was.

“Whatever happens out there today,” I start to say. “I want you to know that I love you. I know I’ve said it a million times, but I could’ve said it more, should have. And I want you to know that you were the greatest gift I’ve ever known, and that if this was all the time we had, I’m grateful for every moment of it. I was lucky enough to find you in this world, I promise to find you in every other one.” I tell him, a tear going down my face as I throw my arms around his neck.

I can feel him smile into my shoulder as he says, “I love you too mate.”

I hold him tightly for the last time and open my eyes to find Rhys staring at me waiting for the signal. “Now,” I mouth to Rhys and he uses his magic to restrain Azriel. I slip one of Azriel’s daggers out his pocket, being sure to avoid Truth Teller, and I turn around and begin to walk down the hill towards Hybern’s Army.

Rhys and I had spent plenty of time coming up with the plan. I had to arrive at the battlefield without weapons, just leathers. I had never used weapons before, having always relied solely on my magic. It would’ve raised suspicion if I had brought any. We made sure our army was far enough away that with the efforts of Rhysand’s wards and the distance, the blast wouldn’t impact our own forces. I walked down to the army alone, appearing as though I am coming as an emissary to speak to them, after all I was just a tiny female, what harm could I do?

I walked with my chin held high, trying to appear as if I was a collected soldier coming to speak on behalf of my general. It was the hardest and longest walk of my life, as no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t drown out the screams of my mate behind me.

“Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Azriel screamed, his voice already horse. “RHYS LET ME GO SHE’S GOING DOWN THERE ALL BY HERSELF!”

I shudder at his words and try to keep a stiff upper lip as I get closer to Hybern’s army.

“HE’S GOING TO KILL HER, LET ME GO!” Azriel growled, a voice so deadly it could only belong to a male who’s mate was in danger.

As I get even closer I see the King of Hybern emerge from the army readying himself to receive my message.

“CASSIAN COMMAND THE ARMY TO OPEN FIRE!” Azriel pleads and I can hear him struggling against Rhys’ power.

“Cassian hold our position!” Rhysand bellows.

“Rhys what the fuck?!” Cassain shouts.

“THAT’S AN ORDER GENERAL!” Rhysand screams, sounding more like a High Lord than ever before.

I approach Hybern, dagger hidden behind me, lodged in my belt.

“PLEASE THAT’S MY MATE!”

I stand before the army.

“Have you come to surrender little one?” The King of Hybern croons, earring a laugh from his surrounding Generals and Captains.

“No, I’ve come to end you,” I muse.

I take a deep breath and pull the dagger from behind me and plunge it through my heart. The last thing I hear is Azriel’s scream before blinding white light erupts from me, and then I don’t feel anything at all.

Azriel:

The battle is easily won but at what cost? After y/n put that dagger through her heart more than half of Hybern’s army was wiped off the face of the earth. The battle was bloody but short and in the aftermath I found myself searching the field for my little star, my mate.

“Y/N!” I scream for her, voice torn.

I scan my surroundings looking for any glimpse of her, but I don’t see her, and I don’t feel her anymore either. She’s not gone, she’s not gone, she’s not gone, I keep telling myself.

“Y/N!” I scream again as I continue to look.

I keep flying until I see her. She has about a three foot blast radius around her where not even the grass is still growing, and her small form is lying there, unmoving. I slam into the ground and run toward her.

“No, no, no, no!” I curse as I fall to my knees before her. She’s covered in blood and mud from being trampled.

I take her into my arms and she’s so cold. So small and so cold.

“Baby please wake up,” I cry, brushing her hair out of her face. “Come on, you said you wouldn’t leave me!”

I sense Rhys and Cassian landing behind me and I can hear Feyre’s sobs.

“Please, please, please baby I can’t live without you,” I press my forehead to hers.

I cry and I beg for what feels like hours, but she doesn’t wake up. I reach inside me to tug at the bond, my last ditch effort to bring her back, but when I reach inside myself there’s nothing there.

At first there was nothing, just Azriel’s scream echoing in my brain and then there was silence. But now flickering in the distance I saw him, saw my mate, and I knew then and there that this was the cauldron’s last gift to me.

“Azriel,” I sang into the void like subspace.

“Y/n?” he asked, unsure of what was happening. He was wearing his pants he always wore to bed, which meant I was seeing him in his dream.

“Yes it’s me Az,” I smile, tears brimming my eyes.

“I’m just dreaming right?” he asks again.

“No,” I laugh walking over to him, grabbing him by his forearms. “It’s really me. I’m here somehow.”

“Oh my gods, I’ve missed you so much,” he breaks, voice cracking as he hugs me tight.

“How long has it been since the battle?” I ask.

“A little over a week,” he says standing back so he can look at me. “Why y/n? Why did you do it?”

I nearly broke at his words, “This was always the plan Az, we just didn’t know it till now.” I explain.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I think the universe knew that I was supposed to save you. That’s why I fell from the sky, that’s why you found me. Why the cauldron made us mates.” I tell him, tears falling from my eyes as my hand wipes away his.

“Why didn’t you tell me though?” he cries.

“Would you have let me sacrifice myself if I did?” I ask. “I wanted my last few days with you to be as normal as they could be.”

Silent tears fall from his eyes, “But what do I do without you?”

“You live Azriel,” I smile. “You were the greatest joy I ever knew Az. I did this so you could live, with Cassian and Rhys. I told you I would find you in every world, you still have things to do in your world, but I’ll find you in this one too when your time comes.”

“How do I live without you?”

“You never will, I am a star after all.”

#azriel x reader fluff #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst

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violetsiren90 · 6 months

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Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader

Genre: Oneshot; hard smut (eventual fluff 😂); BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)

Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom; MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace lol; Hobi in the studio 👀 (The full oneshot will come with more specific warnings - a looooong list lol)

Mood board here! ⛓🖤

Release date: Christmas? 🎄

Author's note: Hey, y'all! I am catapulting out of my comfort zone with this one and, honestly, having the time of my life. I've been in my Hobi era lately and when the concept of dom!Hobi possessed my mind I knew I'd have to write it out or else. 😅😂 I hope to pop this under your trees around Christmas! Hope you enjoy the teaser, and as always, if no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Also, a big thank you to @orchidyoonkook for beta reading this - you are the real MVP! 💕

If you want to be alerted via the tag list for this when it drops, let me know!

_______________________________________________

"What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.

You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.

"Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.

The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair.

"Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes.

You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.

Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.

You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.

"Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.

He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.

"He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me."

At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech. Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening. You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath.

Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down. It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.

"Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.

"I told him...I said..."

"What?"

"Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"

You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come. You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried. Did you just fuck things irrevocably up? That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit. Shit.

"Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.

He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.

"Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"

You don't answer him. You can't. Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his grey sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.

"Is it?"

You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him - standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.

"Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."

He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bare.

"You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."

He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.

"...that's something I can do."

...what? He can...h-he can....

"Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.

You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.

"Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?"

"When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.

But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom -

"When you're a filthy pathetic little slut."

A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together (to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure), and that's when he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes fluttering frantically open.

"Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?" Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long, something that longs to feed.

You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.

"I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins. His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want - your friend. Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.

"Yes - yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.

So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body. You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.

"A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his words.

You blink, your mind running up against the sudden saccharine pet name (which he has admittedly called you before) as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous. Something simple maybe...a flower...?

"Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.

"Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever - okay? You say that. Foxglove."

You nod.

"Say it for me," he whispers, you shiver again. Fuck.

"Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.

"Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"

You scramble to find your voice.

"Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.

He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.

"I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."

He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.

"See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.

He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.

"Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.

"No, Hobi," you whisper. And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.

"That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."

You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and completely exhilarating. When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want. You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.

"You gonna listen, hm?"

It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...

"Make me."

#fic teaser #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #hoseok imagine #hobi x reader #hobi smut #hobi x y/n #jhope smut #jhope fanfic #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #jhope imagine #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #fic: make me

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flametrashiraarchive · 10 months

Note

Hi! Me again lol. If we're limited to how much we can ask you don't have to answer. I was wondering if you could do Giyuu x Y/N who was also a hashira but after the final battle. They're finally able to be together and months later find out they're expecting. It can be SFW or NSFW. If you're not comfortable with this I totally understand.

-☀️

Yes! Happy endings ftw.

I thought it would be cute to have this be part of the bathhouse pieces just for the sake of a throwaway joke, but this reader is specifically AFAB so please ignore it if that's not for you. It's the Bathing with Giyuu Multiverse.

I’m really sorry it doesn’t really include the pregnancy part (I alluded to it but they’re really difficult for me to write about sometimes) but I hope the love between Giyuu and you makes up for it.

This piece does contain slight spoilers for the end of the Demon Slayer manga so be warned! (spoilers from here on out!)

Also, I refuse to accept that the thing with the mark and how much time he has left is canon. It’s too sad so it doesn’t happen. You and Giyuu are gonna grow old together.

I hope you like it!!

AFTERMATH

Giyuu Tomioka x F!reader. NSFW.

Memories of your fallen comrades haunt you long after the rubble is cleared away. Nightmares of what befell those you care about wake you when you finally do manage to drift off. The scent of battle lingers on your skin for weeks. Smoke, blood, and death. No matter how many times you've tried to wash it off it clings to you.

Which is why you find yourself traipsing to the onsen in the darkness, your katana still grasped firmly in your hand, because you still can't quite believe that it's over. The battle is won, and the world is safe.

You can relax in the onsen completely safe and completely alone–

"You're kidding me?!"

Giyuu stares at you, half submerged in the steaming water, his expression one of wide-eyed surprise. But once he sees it's you, his face softens again. "Ah… is it time for our annual awkward bath together?"

You laugh for the first time in days. Giyuu has always been a little less guarded around you, but since the fight ended, he has been far more open. He's funny. Peace looks good on him.

"Do you mind if I get in?" You ask, "It's not like we haven't seen everything already."

He shakes his head. "I don't mind. We've been through hell and back together, this is nothing."

"Yeah…"

"Should I turn around?" he asks.

Oh Giyuu. Even after everything you’ve been through together; the battles, the quiet moments, the nights you spent together early on where you promised it was just once to get it out of your systems, and the times later when you both agreed you could die at any moment so why the hell not. Even after all that, he’s still a perfect and slightly awkward gentleman.

Your breath shivers as you slip off your yukata in answer and those deep blue eyes of his drink you in.

He stands, gazing up at you with his lips slightly parted. It'll take some time to get used to the sight of him without his right arm, and no doubt it'll take him even longer than that. But he's alive. You both made it. You survived.

He wades toward you and offers you his hand, helping you step down into the water. His eyes never leave you. Yours never leave him. And you both just stand there, the water only up to your hip, laid bare before each other in this newly peaceful world.

You no longer smell smoke, blood, or death. Giyuu’s scent is soft, clean rain, washing over you and carrying the horrors away.

His smile is so soft and serene your heart aches.

A muscle in his cheek flexes before he speaks. "I didn't lose you," he says, as though the fact is only just sinking in, as if he'd mourned you even before the battle had even begun and is only just allowing himself to believe you’re really there, that you really survived.

It’s a feeling you know well.

A slow smile lifts his lips, his eyes meeting yours, his sapphire gaze filled with unending tenderness. You reach up to caress his cheek and melt as he closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

"We made it, Giyuu."

"We did," he says, his voice so quiet and calm. "I should have told you this before the battle, but I was afraid to because I thought telling you would mean you wouldn't make it. Like I’d put a curse on you or something. And if you don't feel the same–"

"I love you."

His eyes widen a little, but soften a heartbeat later. He chuckles. "Yeah… yeah, you took the words out of my mouth."

"I've wanted to tell you that for the longest time."

"Me too.' He dips his chin, pressing his forehead to yours as a quiet laugh of relief emerges from him. With your heart fluttering, you close your eyes and just enjoy the sensation, and the quiet intimacy of being loved by Giyuu.

His lips hover so close to yours, gentle breaths fanning over your skin. Your heart aches with need for him as you tilt your face toward him to bring your lips closer.

He closes the gap, his kiss as light as gossamer, sending your heart into a frenzy. The kiss is so gentle it's almost painful, the fluttering in your chest more than you can bear. It shivers through every fiber of your body, more potent than any breathing technique as every cell in your body seems to sigh his name.

Giyuu. You're alive. We made it, and we can finally let ourselves love.

Little by little, the kiss deepens until Giyuu's tongue is caressing yours. His lips are soft and oh-so gentle, stirring up the butterflies in your belly. You open your eyes, seeking reassurance that this isn’t all just some dream. The intimate sight of him causes your heart to leap; his eyes are closed, his pretty dark lashes resting on his pink-dusted cheeks, so peaceful in that moment you can’t believe this is the same world which demanded so much sacrifice.

He skates his hand down to the curve of your lower back, gently pulling you closer until your bodies are flush with each other. The rise and fall of his chest staggers against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him, bathed in moonlight and the rising steam of the onsen. And though the battle only took place in one tiny pocket of the world, it feels as though you are clinging to each other among the wreckage, even here surrounded by serenity.

As much as you crave each other, you take your time and love one another slowly, washing each other with all the tenderness the world couldn’t spare you until now. You sit with your back to him as he washes your hair, his fingers deftly moving over your scalp, making goosebumps pebble along your thighs. He bows his head and weaves a cloak of kisses across your back and shoulders, making sure not to leave a single inch of you feeling unloved.

And then, when you’ve both washed away what you needed to, he takes your hand and leads you back to his home; a big, empty house waiting to be filled with the family and the love he never even allowed himself to believe he could have. The comforting scent of him lingers in the house and you feel as though you never want to leave. He doesn’t want you to go either.

Moonlight shines through the windows, casting silver light over the pair of you as you lie together in Giyuu’s bed, lost once more in tender kisses. The relief and love, the guilt of survival, the way your mind can’t quite slip fully out of fight mode… It’s overwhelming. He notices the moment your tears start to fall.

“Love… it’s okay,” he whispers, stroking them away with his thumb and you know he understands completely.

“We’re allowed to be happy, aren’t we?”

He smiles softly, and nods. “Yeah… we are.”

His breath is hot against your skin as he trails kisses over your jaw, down your throat, and to your chest. When his lips reach the top of your breast he pauses, lays down his head and closes his eyes, listening to your heart’s rhythm and your breathing with a quiet sigh. You know this will go on for a while; that no matter how often you reassure each other that this is real, that you both made it, that it’s okay for you to love each other, some part of you both will always question.

Because since when has the world ever been this kind?

“Can I love you forever?” he asks softly. “Is that okay?”

Your fingers thread through his soft black hair as he kisses down your stomach. “Please, Giyuu… please do.”

He brings you simple solace with the wet heat of his mouth. He settles between your thighs, eyes closed, lapping at your tender flesh with his fingers interlaced with yours. Soft and slow and so loving your heart can barely take it. He tastes every inch of you, drawing comfort from your sighs and the way you gasp his name. A groan emerges from him as you bear down on his tongue, grinding yourself against his gentle mouth. And only then does he quicken his pace, giving you what you need to drive you over the edge and plunging into ecstasy.

You can’t help but laugh a little as he raises his head to gaze at you. Giyuu always has the haziest, prettiest expression when he’s drunk on your pussy, and the war hasn’t changed that one bit. His cheeks are flushed pink, his lips glossy with your slick arousal.

He gets back onto the bed, lying face-to-face beside you and guides your thigh over his waist, angling his hips so he can enter you. He sets a languid rhythm, kissing you the entire time, his cock only entering you halfway so he can make it last as long as possible. He fought through hell to be here with you and he’s going to make sure he cherishes every second.

“You’re… so wet…” he gasps against your lips.

You try to bite back a grin and fail. “Yeah. That’s what happens when you fuck the water hashira.”

Giyuu’s composure breaks and he laughs–really laughs–resting his forehead against your chest. “I love you.”

Gods, what a world this is; that you get to love him, that you have the luxury of time to stop and laugh together in the middle of sex. Giyuu has such an adorably boyish laugh too; one which crinkles his nose and shakes his shoulders. It’s a sound you want to hear a billion times more over the course of your life and a sight you will never tire of.

“I love you too, Giyuu. I always will.”

He’s still chuckling until he rolls you onto your back and presses himself deeper, wiping the smiles from both your faces as pleasure drowns out your amusement. The delicious stretch pulls a groan from you, and when he starts to roll his hips you can’t help but cry out. The control he has over his body is breathtaking, and the loss of his arm doesn’t hinder him at all as he has you wrap your legs around his waist and fucks you hard and deep, filling the room with the lewd symphony of slapping flesh and your wanton cries.

Every time before, he has pulled out of you, both of you unwilling to bring a child into the world when each tomorrow was so precarious. But now he presses deeper, his eyes alight with new possibility, and love like he never allowed himself to believe in. He groans as he fills you, resting his head between your breasts and listening to the thundering rhythm of your heart as you wrap your arms around him and hold him through his orgasm.

And then you lie together in the aftermath; just you and Giyuu at the end and the beginning of it all.

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cherienymphe · 1 year

Text

By The Water’s Edge (Namor x Reader)

WARNINGS: yandere elements, siren song influence, alluded to dubious consent, loss of virginity, pregnancy (hinted at intentional), wakandan!reader

➥ if my Yucatec Maya translation is wrong, please feel free to let me know

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

summary: you never stood a chance once you caught the eye of the king of the sea

You waded through the tall grass, the nightly breeze cooling your skin as you repeatedly looked over your shoulder. This corner of Wakanda was always so quiet at night, but silence never guaranteed anything. It didn’t guarantee that you weren’t being followed.

And you absolutely had to be sure that you weren’t being followed.

You were relieved that you could only hear the slight ruffle of grass from the wind, the beads on the end of your braids hitting each other, the clanking of the bracelets on your wrist. You turned back around with confidence, trekking further and further away from everyone else…and closer to the water. It was always a safe place for you, a place to sort through your thoughts, a place to just be, but now it was a comfort for an entirely other reason.

He had come out of the water one night like something out of a dream.

Or nightmare.

Your body had stilled as you sat on the water’s edge, rooted in a mixture of awe and horror. He was adorned in jewelry that reminded you so much of the kind you and your sisters wore. The glow of the moon had lit both his path and him as he slowly rose above the surface, water clinging to his skin and dripping from his dark locks.

He was beautiful, and you hadn’t been able to look away.

However, a tinge of horror had started to creep into your chest as so many things hit you at once.

Who was this man? How did he get into Wakanda undetected? Where did he come from? You had so many questions as you watched him come closer, and you had stood in trepidation. There had been a soothing breeze that night too, ruffling the blades of grass behind you and your skirt with it. Despite how much your heart had been racing, you still hadn’t moved, hadn’t left to inform the queen somehow.

You didn’t know why.

You and the outsider had stared at one another for what felt like too long, drinking each other in for entirely different reasons. You wanted to know who he was and why he was here and what he was going to do. He, on the other hand, seemed to be studying you. He had tilted his head, dark eyes fixated on your face like you were the least threatening thing in the world to him.

You didn’t know how you felt about that.

“My mother told stories about a place like this…”

The deep baritone of his voice had struck you, making you blink. For the first time since he walked out of the water, he broke eye contact, looking around and roaming his eyes over the land around you.

“Pristine air…and the water,” he trailed off, a hint of a smile on his lips. “A protected land with people that would never have to leave.”

You hadn’t taken your eyes off of him, watching as he looked back to you, running his hand through his wet hair. You ran your gaze over him, taking in his skin and the bands of muscle that were his arms and torso. Even his legs looked powerful, and you didn’t stop yourself from taking a step back.

“…but of all the reasons to envy this place…I never expected it to manifest in the form of a woman.”

You had frowned at that, brows pulling together in confusion, and that was when you finally spoke.

“Who are you?”

He had chuckled to himself, perfect teeth winking at you as he placed a hand to his chest as if you had reminded him of the very important fact that you were strangers.

“My people call me Ahau K’uk’ulkaan,” he’d said. “My other name… That is for my enemies, and I hope that you will never have to refer to me as such.”

You hadn’t realized how relaxed you had become, shocked with yourself when you didn’t move when he placed his foot on the dirt before you, moving closer.

“You come here a lot…”

Your heart had skipped a beat at that, eyes widening slightly at his words. It was true. You did come here a lot. It was probably your favorite place in all of Wakanda, and you had wracked your brain as to how he knew that. As if he could hear your thoughts, he answered your silent question.

“I’ve watched you,” he told you, gesturing to the water behind him. “I’ve watched you sing and write and just relax by the water’s edge.”

His admission should’ve terrified you, and in a way, it did, but there was something more that kept you from running. There was something that held you in place to listen to him.

“I didn’t intend to at first, that’s not who I am, but…”

He was standing right before you now.

“I could not look away.”

You swallowed, and his dark eyes were drawn to the movement, gaze momentarily lingering on your throat.

“I kept coming back, hoping to catch glimpses of you, and the more I did…the harder it became to leave for good.”

“How…how did you get in here? Queen Mother-.”

“Doesn’t need to know about what isn’t a threat.”

Your face had heated up at both his interruption and the implications behind his words. It wasn’t up to him to decide if he was a threat or not, and your lips parted, but no words came out. Here was a man who had uninterrupted access to Wakanda, the queen none the wiser, and you couldn’t help but to linger on the immense guilt you’d feel if he did turn out to be a threat all the while you said nothing.

You glanced up at the sky, noting how late it was getting and sure that one of your sisters would come looking for you soon. The man, K’uk’ulkaan, followed your gaze before your eyes met again, and you took another step back. Then another…then another. You were surprised that he settled for merely watching you, making no attempts to stop you, and when you were far enough away, you turned your back on him and ran back home.

You should’ve gone to the queen that night, or at the very least, the next morning. Something like this was unheard of, and you were the only one who knew, so it was your responsibility to do what was right in the best interests of your people. And yet…

You had spent all of the next day distracted, mind miles away as it was plagued with thoughts of the man who came from the water. You had almost convinced yourself that it was a dream, but the scent of the water on his skin was burned into your brain, and so conflicted about what to do, you had almost forgotten his words.

The reason why he was even here.

Years after that night, you would finally admit the truth to yourself. You didn’t keep his existence a secret for Wakanda. You didn’t return to him again and again to learn more about him to tell the queen. You didn’t get close to him and succumb to him for the benefit of your nation, but instead to sate your curiosity. You went back to him every night because you were curious about the beautiful man who put his existence in jeopardy just to know the woman by the water’s edge.

You had found yourself sneaking through the grass the next night, almost disappointed to find yourself alone.

“You did not tell your queen.”

You had been startled by the sound of his voice, jumping and looking over. He stood by the water, the flow of the tide washing over his feet as he gazed at you. You had stared at him for a long time, mulling over your next words.

“I might have,” you argued.

The small smirk dancing along his lips made your stomach flip.

“You did not,” he called you out on your lie. “Why?”

You didn’t have the courage to tell him it was solely for your curiosity. You had spent more hours awake the previous night than you wanted to admit, thinking on the man before you and the predicament you found yourself in. Part of you hated him for putting you in this position, the position to betray your home and your people by not revealing his existence and access to Wakanda to the queen.

However, another part of you, a larger part, was drawn to him.

And that draw, that pull you felt towards him, was why you came back night after night. You would meet him by the water’s edge, sometimes barely speaking and sometimes talking about everything. He told you about his home, an entire civilization of people who made a home and a way of life beneath the water. You thought that it explained so much, his ability to breathe under the water long enough to travel through it to Wakanda, and even his access to Wakanda in general.

You were fascinated by him, entranced, and he knew it.

“Y/N,” you had told him one night, your name rolling off of his tongue like water as he repeated it to himself.

You liked the way he said it, unable to take your eyes off of him as he held your hand. His other traced an index finger along your palm, the action equally soothing and arousing. There was a point where you forgot all about the queen and the fact that this outsider had access to your nation. The thought of what he and his people could do was long gone, replaced by the desire to see him every night instead.

Blinded by that desire or not, it didn’t take you long to understand that he wasn’t out to hurt Wakanda.

He was here for you.

The way he’d look at you both excited and scared you, having never been on the receiving end of such a look before. It was intense in a way that was almost overwhelming, like he was hanging onto your every word and studying every movement you made. You had wondered if it were possible that he was just as entranced by you as you were by him. You wondered if you imagined that glint in his eye, that look like he wanted to keep you all to himself.

“Do you sing for your family? Friends?”

You had shyly shaken your head, and his smile had warmed your chest as he reached up to touch your face.

“Why not? You have a beautiful voice,” he’d told you. “Hypnotizing even. Almost like…a siren song.”

“I’ve always liked singing alone.”

You had shrugged, still somewhat embarrassed that he’d heard you on several occasions. That embarrassment lessened as time went on, as well as your timidity, and your days felt brighter with the anticipation of seeing him every night. It was noticeable, your cousin Okoye commenting on it one day, asking about what had you glowing. You had shrugged in response, a small smile on your face.

“Just happy, I guess.”

You came home sometimes with new jewelry, a necklace or earrings he’d made resting against your skin. The first time, you had held your breath, heart pounding as he stood behind you. His bare chest had grazed your back as he clasped it behind your neck, fingers brushing your skin and causing a shudder to travel down your spine. You had heard him deeply inhale, breathing you in, and when he turned you around, it only hit you just how close you were.

“It suits you,” he had complimented, a secretive smile on his lips. “Just like I knew it would.”

If your parents or any of your sisters noticed, they didn’t voice it. If they noticed the way you began to pull away, isolate yourself and preferring to stare off into space, they kept quiet about it. K’uk’ulkaan consumed both your waking thoughts and your dreams, waking up and falling asleep with him on your mind. There were times where you couldn’t even fall asleep, too wrapped up in thoughts about the king of Talokan. Your mother only said something when you started eating less and less, seemingly in a daze as you merely pushed your food around on your plate.

You remembered what K’uk’ulkaan had said about your voice, comparing it to a siren’s song, and you thought to yourself that’s how you felt whenever you were around him.

Ensnared by a siren’s song, mind consumed with nothing but him.

So, it came as no surprise when you kissed him back one night, eager to taste more of him. The grass hid you both from view, the moonlight shining down on you both, and your hands pressed against his arms. Your entire body lit up with a heat that you desperately wanted to chase, moaning into his mouth. His hands on you felt like heaven, and you never wanted to leave.

The dirt had been nonexistent against your back, the water hiding your lower half from view as he rested against you. Your dress was feet away, the only thing on your skin being the jewelry he gave you…and him. Your fingers dug into his skin, nails scraping along his back while he thrust into you. Your mewls were low, paranoid of being found out, and you could tell that he liked hearing you.

You clenched around him, clinging to him and fluttering around his cock. He surrounded you, trapping you beneath him as he stretched you out, lips dragging over your skin and tasting you. Your fingers threaded through his hair as you gazed up at the moon, the faint sting in your core registering in the back of your mind but too overcome with pleasure to dwell on it.

You felt like he wasn’t close enough, hips lifting to meet his with every thrust. Your chest arched up into his, legs bending and toes sliding up his own legs. You lost count of how many times you came around him, stumbling back to your house in the early hours of the morning in a daze. You had the faintest memories of one of your sisters pressing her hand to your forehead, concerned that you might be sick as you merely laid in bed.

You only left your room to return to him again, sinking down onto him as he held you in his lap, fingers pressed into your skin. He touched you and held you like he never wanted to let you go, and whatever alarm bells went off in your head at that were promptly silenced as he lifted his hips, pushing his cock up into you as you wrapped your arms around him. Your face was buried into the crook of his neck, your breathing labored and choppy as you sighed against his skin.

His hands had traveled up, resting on your face as he pushed your head back, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you love me?”

Wracked with pleasure and drunk on him, you had lazily nodded, mind passing over the way his dark eyes glinted under the moonlight. He leaned in, kissing down the column of your throat and pulling a moan from you as your head lolled back. Your lashes fluttered, and your gaze rested on the sky.

“How much?”

“More than I’ve loved anyone,” you had sighed, head falling forward against his shoulder again.

“Do you promise?”

Your reply was immediate, and he didn’t let you go until you were coming undone in his arms. That was how most of your nights were spent now, stealing moments with your lover from the water and driving yourself insane every time you had to walk away.

“Why do you call me that?”

K’uk’ulkaan was looping a braid through a small seashell, his lips pressed to your forehead as he did.

“My k’iino,” he had murmured when you reached him, practically tripping over yourself to be in his arms. “Mine.”

He hummed, pulling away to finish what he was doing, and you watched his face.

“It means sunshine…or sun,” he quietly replied. “…even though I only ever see you at night, to me, the moon pales in comparison.”

You had smiled at that, heart sinking a bit as he pointed out the limitations on your trysts. Deep down, you knew that, realistically, things couldn’t go on like this forever. Somehow, some way, something had to give, but you had never expected it to come in the form of an upset stomach one morning, spilling the contents of your stomach in the bathroom.

One of your sisters went to your mother in concern, and she believed your assurance that it was just something you ate, but in your heart, you knew.

“…but this is my home.”

You both stood at the water’s edge, your eyes wide at his suggestion to leave Wakanda. Of all the solutions to the dilemma you faced, you hadn’t expected that. You didn’t miss the way his features hardened slightly at your resistance, stepping closer and head lowering a tad.

“You said you loved me.”

“I do,” you told him, blinking in shock that he’d ever doubt that.

He took your hand, bringing the back of it to his lips.

“…and don’t you think you should prove that to me…?”

Your mind spun, and you looked away.

“Besides…there’s no guarantee our child will survive on land like you.”

You looked back to him, stricken at his very valid point. He had long explained how he came to be, how he was so different from the rest of the Talokanil. The chances that the baby inside of you would be more like them rather than him due to you and what you lacked were high. Your eye stung, feeling stuck in an impossible situation.

“I need…to think,” you slowly whispered, stepping back.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that his eyes had darkened at your words. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, and for the first time in almost a year, you left him while the moon was barely in the sky.

You didn’t sleep much, if at all, that night, staring up at your ceiling. You were wracked with a myriad of emotions, so many of them conflicting and confusing. K’uk’ulkaan had consumed every aspect of your life for months on end, and you felt like you couldn’t even physically live without him, but in the same breath… Wakanda was your home. Your entire life was here, and you couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

Even the next night, you still hadn’t come to a decision. Night after night, you mulled over your predicament with a heavy heart, chest tight and eyes burning with tears. Your days were spent with your head in the toilet, and your nights were spent sitting outside of your house, wholly aware that you didn’t have all the time in the world.

And your time ran out one starless and moonless night, the most hypnotizing melody reaching your ears and imbedding itself into every crevice of your brain. It was addictive, filling your entire being with the desire to find it. You heard nothing and no one else as you seemed to glide across the land, steps sure as you waded through the grass. It filled your heart with a peace and security that you hadn’t felt in days, bringing a smile to your face.

Nothing registered. Not the disregard for your family and your nation, not the carelessness in the way you boldly walked through the tall grass, nor that you were traveling down a familiar path. Your body didn’t quite feel like your own, but you were too captivated to care. You only cared about following that sound.

And found it you did.

K’uk’ulkaan, Namor as he’d one day revealed to you what he also went by, stood in the water where you always met. His hand was outstretched to you, beckoning you closer with a welcoming smile. You happily returned it, your feet dipping into the water, dress clinging to your skin the deeper you waded. Your hand met his, bringing it to his lips with a soft kiss as he threaded his fingers through yours.

Without so much as a backwards glance, you followed him into the murky depths.

#namor x reader #namor x you #black panther wakanda forever #black panther fanfiction #namor fanfiction #k'uk'ulkan #namor x black reader

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agoodomenssideblogiguess · 6 months

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What if Aziraphale wasn't on earth between 1941 and 1967?

What if, the same way Crowley was brought back to Hell in 1827 Aziraphale was recalled to Heaven in 1941?

Hear me out: Aziraphale has been making slow but steady progress within his character arc right? In 1941 at the end of the night, sharing drinks with Crowley in the bookshop, Aziraphale was willing to accept that things are not always black and white and sometimes there is room for shades of grey (albeit very light grey). Compare this to his thinking concerning Elspeth. Aziraphale kept flip flopping back and forth over whether Elspeth's actions were good or bad. He didn't seem to consider her actions were ethically complicated. In his mind they could either be good or bad depending on whatever information came to light in the moment.

It also seems that after the church, the magic trick, and the shades of grey discussion, Crowley and Aziraphale are back on good terms with one another. At the very least, talking and willing to spend time together again. Other than the mention of how easily accessible the holy water is in the church, Crowley doesn't seem to mention or allude to his request again. However, in 1967, it feels like their interactions are strained again. Aside from the awkwardness and tension in their conversation, it's also strange that Crowley is surprised to see Aziraphale in the Bentley (despite being PARKED IN FRONT OF THE BOOKSHOP) and that Aziraphale is only aware of what Crowley is up to through second-hand means “I work in Soho, I hear things." (You don't need to 'hear things' when Crowley is conducting those things IN FRONT OF THE BOOKSHOP)

So what happened? My theory: Aziraphale has been serving out a punishment in Heaven since 1941.

Fandom consensus seems to be that there is a 1941 pt. 3 coming next season and many are hoping for a kiss or something undeniably romantic (I am too ngl). But what if it's actually a scene where Aziraphale gets dragged back up to heaven?

Shax said that 80-90 years ago was the first time that she heard about Crowley and Aziraphale being an item. We can assume that this 80-90 years ago was during Furfur’s failed evidence presentation to Dagon and F(r)iends.

A lot of demons were hanging around in that scene. It wouldn’t surprise me if one of them (or Shax herself) got in touch with an angel in Heaven and let them know about the rumor downstairs of Crowley working with an angel on Earth.

Obviously, Heaven can’t allow that, and who else could it be other than Aziraphale? He’s the only angel down there, so they recall him. Without evidence though, and given that (1) it's a demon's word against an angel's; (2) less than a century and a half ago, Gabriel awarded Aziraphale a medal for his work on earth (bookstore opening cut scene); and (3) as far as we know, Aziraphale hasn’t had any major offenses other than frivolous use of miracles, I don’t think Heaven can really do much. That doesn’t mean they don’t do anything, I just don’t think they do anything like use hellfire on him or make him fall.

Despite the lack of evidence, Heaven still has to make an example out of Aziraphale for getting caught working with a demon. I think whatever punishment Heaven doles out, keeps Aziraphale up in Heaven for a long time.

(Small tangent: If it can be traced back to one event rather than a slow progression over millenia, this rumor is also probably what makes all the archangels be so cruel to Aziraphale (or at least finally gives them permission to act on what they’ve been wanting to do for ages). Maybe this is when they start looking into Aziraphale’s past endeavors and notice Crowley everywhere.)

It could be worse, if there had been evidence, it would have been worse. Still (Aziraphale might think), this is Heaven, 'the side of good', they wouldn't take it too far. He probably received a trial before his punishment began. And yeah the trial is more for show than anything else, but it's not like Hell would have bothered with any of that. Hell would probably delve right into whatever torture they'd decided for punishment. His time spent in Heaven, no matter how intense the punishment, would have been a breeze to tolerate compared to what Hell would do to Crowley. Speaking of which...

By the time Heaven lets Aziraphale back down to Earth, I think he would be a mess of mindless worry. He had just come to terms with his feelings for Crowley after all. Maybe this is why Aziraphale decides to give Crowley the holy water after all. He's had more than enough time in Heaven to realize that as much as he wants to protect Crowley and keep him safe, all that intent means nothing if he's stuck in Heaven because of his own carelessness. In Aziraphale's absence (or destruction), holy water could keep Crowley safe, at least from Hell, even if it is dangerous. Once Aziraphale is back on Earth, when he hears what Crowley was plotting, it probably further cements his decision to give it to him.

If Aziraphale got taken up to Heaven right after the magic show, he probably has no idea if his palming of the polaroid worked for sure. The bookshop is a safe place for Crowley to be away from Hell, but how long will that last? Is it still an embassy with Aziraphale up here in heaven? Is Crowley defenseless against the other demons down there? Did Hell come for Crowley after all even without evidence?

So how long is Aziraphale gone for? We already know that after Crowley got sent back to hell in 1827 and Aziraphale didn’t see him again for “a very long time.” The next meeting we, as an audience, see between them is the holy water request in 1862. So at worst, Crowley's been in Hell for ~30 years. Heaven probably would have taken Aziraphale back for a similar amount of time. And wow look at that, 26 years ago by between 1941 and 1967.

There’s enough ambiguity in the set and dialogue to allow for this length of absence as well. I already wrote a post about how ridiculous Aziraphale is for saying 'I work in Soho I hear things' in 1967 when the whole scene takes place outside the bookshop and how equally ridiculous Crowley is for seeming to think Aziraphale wouldn't notice him prancing around the block plotting to steal from a church. But maybe Crowley conducting his holy water heist business all over Aziraphale's corner of Soho is because as far as he knows Aziraphale isn't around anymore. In my post, I point out that the bookshop is blocked off by the "Striptease" and "Love Shop Cinema" signs but that you can tell it’s the bookshop because of its pillars.

I admitted that it was weird to cover up half the windows, but didn't really have any diegetic explanation for it. Maybe the explanation is that Aziraphale’s bookshop has been abandoned for years. In which case, I think Crowley might be hanging around Soho caring for it and the books, making sure it doesn't get vandalized, protecting it from snooping humans, etc. (tangent: this could also be why Aziraphale says that the bookshop is both of theirs. Maybe the "plenty of use" he said Crowley got out of it was while Aziraphale was away. Maybe Crowley used it as a pseudo base of operations.)

Aziraphale being gone would also explain why, suddenly, 105 years after his initial request, Crowley is plotting to steal holy water from a church. Aziraphale has been gone a long enough time that Crowley is starting to get antsy. Maybe he’s starting to think that Aziraphale is gone for good (not dead, he is an OPTIMIST DAMMIT). I think Crowley is spurred to start the holy water heist because he thinks Aziraphale isn’t going to be assigned to earth any more and whoever they're sending down next is going to be more of a smitey kind of angel. And if Aziraphale isn’t around anymore, then the demon-proof-except-for-Crowley-bookshop/embassy is also likely not going to stop any demons from getting to Crowley whenever they want. If Aziraphale is really not coming back, then Crowley is alone again, on his own side, for the first time since they saved Job's kids. He's gonna really need that insurance now more than ever and unfortunately, he has no one else to rely on. He’s gonna have to procure it himself, even if it’s dangerous and dumb.

Aziraphale's absence (as much as I am loathe to let go of the theory that Aziraphale and Crowley are just being incredibly dramatic idiots) can also explain some of the dialogue from the 1967 scene.

“What are you doing here?” might seem a silly thing to say when Crowley is parked outside of the bookshop, but makes sense if he's reacting to seeing Aziraphale for the first time in years, so damn close it can’t be a dream, right inside the Bentley.

“I work in Soho, I hear things,” is not just a way to give the audience exposition that Crowley wouldn’t need but a way for Aziraphale to explain why he’s there.

The barely concealed desperation in Crowley's voice when wanting to give Aziraphale a lift home (despite being LITERALLY OUTSIDE THE BOOKSHOP), or to take him anywhere he wants, makes a little more sense if he hasn’t seen him in years, wants to catch up, and doesn’t even know where Aziraphale would be staying if not the bookshop.

If this theory is true and Aziraphale has been absent between 1941 and 1967, it could explain why we don't see the bookshop in the 1967 scene even though everything else in the scene points to it taking place on that corner, it would give Aziraphale a reason for deciding to give Crowley the holy water after all even though hes been stubbornly opposed to it for more than a century, and it could also explain why even though he was making a lot of progress character wise to, it felt like he was regressing again.

#good omens #good omens 2 #go2 #gos2 #good omens meta #good omens 2 spoilers #long post #i would love to hear what you all think about this #im sure im missing stuff that this theory cant explain within the show #but it feels pretty solid to me

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sweetandscarlet · 1 year

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unrequited love | pt 1

notes: hi everyone ! it’s been a while since i’ve posted something, unfortunately it was out of my control up until recently and i’m finally not shadowbanned :)

words: 4.2k

warnings: stepmom!wanda (32), stepdaughter!reader (22 & afab), yearning, alludes to smut in certain parts of the chapter ! eventual smut, eventual cheating - this chapter is just fluff, reader being an absolute simp for wanda and plot building. next chapter which i’m working on will literally just be pure smut (with a little bit of plot, idk how many parts i want to make this tbh). minors DNI!

guilt had become the constant in your life.

you had never felt such a strong feeling before, and as much as you tried to swallow it down and go about your day as normal, the gnawing ache of shame ate away at you until all you were left with is a hollow shell of disgrace.

in your defence, you and your little life were perfectly fine before now, it was you, your dad, a few close friends and your wonderful girlfriend who you had been dating for quite a while now. you were content and happy until a certain woman came crashing into your life unexpectedly like a bulldozer and flipped your world and everything you knew upside down.

albeit, none of this was her fault. all she did was meet a man and fall in love. how was she supposed to know the man had a shitty daughter?

well, that's how you'd best describe yourself. you felt sinful and disgusting every time your eyes stayed fixated on the older woman for a second too long. every time a smooth patch of her skin was exposed from her shirt innocently riding up and all you wanted to do was reach out and feel her soft, milky skin under your fingertips.

or your mouth, either or was fine with you.

you hated how much of the woman consumed your thoughts throughout the day. what she was doing, if she was having a busy day at work, if she'd had plenty of sleep, drinking water, was taking care of herself.

all thoughts that you should be relating to your girlfriend, not your stepmother.

but alas, you were and all you could do was pretend like the woman wasn't the first thing on your mind when you woke up and the last thing when you went to sleep.

it was proving really hard to do when she wasn't a cliched wicked stepmother. you honestly would prefer it if she was, but instead, she was perfect, poised and so, so pretty. she treated you like you were her own and was so sweet to you, it made you feel sick.

you were now six months into your spiral of shame. your stepmother and father were happy and your girlfriend was still blissfully unaware of the crush you harboured for the older woman. you kind of wanted to pride yourself on how well you've hidden the feelings. it was painfully difficult, to say the least. she was and is the most beautiful woman you had ever laid eyes on. so smart and funny and charming and-

"y/n, are you listening to me?"

your head shot up as a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. the voice belonged to a concerned redhead who was perched in front of the island in the kitchen, her hands skillfully cutting up vegetables for the dinner you'd be sharing.

"i- sorry wanda, i'm just tired. i didn't get much sleep last night. what were you saying?"

the older woman frowned at that. her mind thinking of all the possibilities as to why. were you stressed about university? girlfriend trouble? the strong urge to fix whatever problem you had quickly replaced whatever thought wanda currently possessed.

"aw no, how come, my love? are you using the tea i bought for you? you know, my mother always said-"

"chamomile tea helps you get eight hours of sleep, i know, i know. are you sure you're not just making that up?" you tease, an eyebrow wiggling at her as she continues to dice her bell peppers. "i mean, as a soon-to-be holder of an english lit degree, i for one have never heard of that saying"

wanda eyed you playfully, her hands still working on autopilot as the knife carefully sliced the ingredients below her. you had seen her do it plenty of times before and it still never failed to impress you.

"well, smarty pants i think you've forgotten i'm sokovian. ever heard of a little something called translation?"

you rolled your eyes at that. of course, you hadn't forgotten, it was also another aspect of wanda that consumed your every waking thought. the way her r's rolled off of her tongue, her accent growing thicker the sleepier or more frustrated she got.

everything about her voice never failed to make you ache with want.

“ya trenirovalsya, mozhesh' skazat'?” you gaily shot back, a small smile playing on your lips when you saw the redhead's eyes widen in surprise.

“my my, smart girl indeed, i can tell. you’re getting better" wanda mused as her gaze from you dropped to finish off the last of the vegetables before turning around to put them all in the simmering pan on the stove. "now, why aren’t you sleeping properly?"

your eyes slowly fell, the gnawing guilt returning as they landed on the swell of the sokovians' ass.

“uh, no reason” you mumble in response, your eyes staying trained on how well the jeans hugged every curve of hers. “i think it might be uni stress”

i’m lying. it’s you, i can’t stop thinking about you.

wanda placed the cutting board on the countertop next to the stove before turning back to face you. your eyes instantly dart up and you just pray she didn’t catch your lingering stare.

if she did, wanda didn’t show any sign of it.

“i’m sorry darling, is there anything i can help you with?”

you shot her a lopsided smile before clearing your throat and answering with a “i’ll be okay once finals are over, but thank you”

“i might not be your mumiya but i’m always here if you need me”

i do need you. in more ways than you know.

“that's mommy, right? well, you're a better one than she'll ever be”

it didn't dawn on you until a few seconds later. your mouth just moving without ever thinking about how it would sound.. or maybe you're just overanalysing this? your gaze drops to your hands as you mindlessly start playing with your fingers nervously. not everyone believes that word to be sexualised, right?

“i-“ wanda cleared her throat, turning to busy herself with the pan behind her. “i’m glad you think of me as such, malysh”

the older woman gripped at the wooden spoon she used to stir the food with. “now, why don’t you get your father from his study and i’ll dish everything out”

you were thankful wanda had yet to turn around, as a shy blush must be evident on your cheeks right now. “sure, wanda. thank you, by the way, it smells great”

the redhead couldn’t help but beam at your approval as she continued to mindfully stir the food before turning the gas off and moving the pan to an empty burner.

when she heard your footsteps retreat, wanda let out a sigh as her hands fell to grip the counter in front of her, willing herself to calm her beating heart and the pulse that formed much lower.

ᗢ

"so, how's it going with kate, y/n?" your father wasn't one to ask too many questions. the man would always let you do as you please, even as a kid. of course he was protective, but he also trusted your decisions. thus, usually keeping his curiosity to himself. "i haven't seen her around here much lately"

you continued to chew your food before raising your head to meet his small smile and kind eyes. "we've just both been busy, i guess. i am seeing her tomorrow though, we're going to a party and then going back to her house after"

the sound of cutlery clattering on a plate made you jump, the noise cutting through the silence of the room like a knife and you instantly turned your head to where the sound came from.

wanda sat there, unfazed at her disturbance as she stared back at you. her eyes narrowed in on you as she pursed her lips. "a party? what kind?"

you let out a chuckle at the question, your mind not quite registering the redhead's hard gaze and peeved demeanour. "the kind that you don't really remember the next day? you've heard of them, right?"

wanda sucked the tip of her tongue between her pearly white teeth and fought the urge to correct you on your bratty attitude. in actuality, if she was being honest with herself, you didn't have one at all, you were being your usual playful self. the older woman was just taken aback and albeit slightly annoyed at the mention of your partner.

but, she was just looking out for you, right? like a good mother should, even if she was a step.

"yes, sweetheart, parties were around in the eighteen-hundreds"

the sound of your laugh helped ease some of the tension in the sokovians shoulders and she couldn't help but let a smile shine through as it echoed throughout her mind and invaded every sense of her being.

"damn, you all partied during the ipswich witch trials? that's hardcore, wanda, even for you"

wanda chuckled in response. "oh yeah, but i was just celebrating because i wasn't caught"

you sniggered at that, replying with a, "do you reckon i could still get the bounty if i ratted you out?" before returning to your food.

the redhead let out a playful gasp, her arm stretching over the corner of the dining table to swat at your shoulder. "you wouldn't dare! plus who would make you all these meals if i'm burned at the stake?"

you hummed at that, your finger coming to rest on your chin as you tapped at it, pretending to linger in thought on the question. "you make a point and i don't think i could survive without them"

the redhead beamed proudly at that before she heard the telltale sign of her husband's impatience and feelings of being left out as he cleared his throat.

"so, about that party, y/n. when are you thinking of leaving?" he asked, before placing his fork on his now-empty plate.

wanda mentally rolled her eyes, her sour mood instantly returning at the question. that was until an idea popped into her head and the scowl that formed on her face quickly inched into a smirk. "how about you stay in with me tomorrow night instead? your father will be gone for his conference and i could sure use the company"

you struggled to swallow down your food as your mouth dried up and you immediately reached for the glass of water to ease it down.

"oh, that's a great idea!" your father intervened, the sound of wood scraping against the floor as he pushed back his chair and stood up. "a bit of mother-daughter bonding time might help alleviate your stress"

your eyes stayed trained on your plate as you tried to muster up any excuse you could think of as to why that wouldn't be such a great idea.

unfortunately, your brain short-circuited and your mind went blank.

"i- but what would i tell kate and the rest of my friends?" you asked, your head raising to meet the redhead who was already staring back at you.

you wanted to audibly groan at the way she looked at you. soft, doe eyes bore into you and you found it impossible to deny her.

"you know what, just leave it with me, i'll tell them you're sick or something and i need to take care of you"

wanda's plump lips instantly curled into a smile at your response. exactly y/n, she thought. you need to take care of your mommy.

ᗢ

the next morning you were awoken by the sound of a sweet voice humming the tune of a song you didn't know, the sound started small until it faded into earshot and grew louder.

you turned your body onto your back to stretch, and your eyes soon flickered open to see wanda towering over you. a mug of steaming tea in one hand and two slices of toast on a small plate in the other.

"good morning, i thought i'd bring you breakfast in bed" the older woman smiled before placing them down on your bedside table.

when your eyes properly came into focus, you gulped dryly at the sight.

wanda was wearing a silk scarlet nightgown with a matching short robe to match, the colour was a striking contrast to the milky skin that lay underneath and your eyes flashed down to see she had yet to put on a bra. the cold morning air was clearly evident in the room as your eyes trailed away from pebbled nipples that strained behind her nightwear.

shit.

"thank you," you managed to croak out, one of your hands reaching up to wipe away the sleep from your eyes, using your other to push yourself upwards to rest your back on your pillows. "i'm excited for today, do you have anything in mind for what we should do?"

it took everything in you to not reach out a hand to yank your stepmom into your bed and have your way with her. because, god, how you longed to feel the warmth of her body underneath you as you trail your fingers over the apex of her hips and down to her soft thig-

"me too, malysh. i have some errands to do first, so while we're out we could do some shopping and grab some food?"

you nodded in response, a shy smile playing on your lips as the older woman's eyes bore into you. under wanda's gaze, you felt minuscule like a goddess who was staring down at you, a lesser deity.

but the sokovian never saw you in such a light, in her mind you were a woman worth worshipping. a magnificent being that should be held up on a pedestal for all the world to adore.

"good, i'll go and get dressed while you eat and get ready"

ᗢ

a few hours had passed since you woke up, and both you and wanda were now walking around the mall aimlessly with no destination or rush to be anywhere. the two of you just spoke about anything and everything until the occasional gasp left your lips when something caught your eye in a store window.

"do you want it?" the redhead would ask, her eyes trained on your face to gauge your reaction.

most of the time your eyes would widen upon seeing the price before sighing in defeat and setting it back on the shelf and muttering, "no, it's okay. i'll wait until my birthday or something"

against your wishes, wanda would pick up what you held in your hands moments ago before waltzing over to the tills, her hips swaying with purpose as she quickly pays for it. wanda then walks back to you like it was no big deal with the said item now in a plastic bag as she hands it to you.

soon enough you were now walking through the mall with a few bags in your hands and wanda carrying the rest in hers.

guilt weighed heavy on your chest as you looked down at what you were holding. wanda, who was walking a couple of steps in front of you turned to see your bottom lip jutted out and your eyebrows contorted.

"what's wrong, detka?," her legs came to a stop and her face was quickly etched with worry. "do want to leave?"

your eyes instantly met hers and you could feel the guilt building up your throat, threatening to spill at any given moment. "what? no, of course not! i'm sorry... i- i just feel bad that you've gotten me all of this stuff. i can't imagine it came cheap"

the sokovian shook her head with a chuckle. "don't worry about money, sweetheart i'm fine.. plus you deserve it. i want to spoil you, so don't feel bad about it"

as much as you wanted to argue that you didn't deserve it, you bit your tongue and smiled in response. "you're right, thank you wanda. i am really grateful for everything, although i do still feel bad, is there anything i can do for you?"

full pink lips curled into a small smirk at the question. there was definitely something she wanted you to do but she knew she could never ask that of you, could never step over the line and cross a boundary that should remain uncrossed.

you watched as wanda pondered for a moment before shaking her head. "thank you, y/n. but, i don't want anything in return, just being with you today is enough"

your heart swelled ten times at that and you instantly felt your heart beat deep and fast in your throat. this woman was going to be the death of you.

ᗢ

"so, how about i open a bottle of wine and you pick a movie for us to watch?" the sokovians' voice echoed loudly in your mind, pulling your attention away from the bags filled with everything wanda had bought for you.

you raised your head to see wanda standing in front of you. the position of you on your knees on the carpeted floor instantly dawned on you as the older woman's figure towered over you. you gulped dryly before pushing yourself upwards on your hands to stand face to face with the redhead.

"of course, wands. any suggestions?" you asked meekly, shifting your weight on your feet slightly as you tried your best to maintain eye contact with her.

your stepmother shrugged in response before taking a step back you almost wanted to whine and close the distance between you but you swallowed down the urge and kept yourself still, frozen like a statue.

"your choice, dorogoy. i'll be right back with the wine" and with that, wanda took even more several steps back until the distance grew. she then rounded the sofa and entered through the swinging door and into the kitchen.

you breathed a sigh of relief, a breath you didn't even realise you were holding. you willed yourself to calm your beating heart and moved over to the cabinet beside the television, your eyes scanning the selection of movies and box sets of tv shows.

your lips instantly curled into a smile upon seeing a certain one.

you opened the glass door before sliding out the box set, your hands racing to pull out one of the discs and quickly place it into the DVD player. you couldn't wait to see the look on wanda's face when she sees the loading-screen play on the television.

you heard the door swing open once again, wanda's sweet voice sounding behind you as she began to speak. "so what did you decide on?"

a gasp left her lips when her eyes landed on the television and saw the loading screen of her all-time favourite tv show.

"oh my god, the dick van dyke show?!"

you stood to turn around and face the older woman and you felt pride beam brightly in your chest at the smile that was plastered on her face.

"yeah," you said sheepishly, your cheeks flushing a hint of pink. "i know it's your favourite"

wanda stepped closer to the sofa before reaching down to place the two wine glasses and the bottle on the table in front of it. "you're too sweet, detka. i don't even think your father remembers that"

the pride enlarged even more at the fact and you couldn't help the evidential blush on your cheeks brightening. "well, dads stupider than i thought if he doesn't remember something like that about you"

it was now wanda’s turn to blush, and as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks she quickly busied herself with opening the wine and pouring it into both glasses, more so in hers than yours.

“i’ve actually never seen it before, you know?” you mention, before kneeling off the ground and wiping your now sweaty palms onto the jeans that hugged your thighs.

“wow, really? well, there’s a first for everything," wanda smiled and you swear your heart skipped the smallest beat when you saw those dimples form in her cheeks. "i haven't seen that dragon show you like so much"

you make your way over to the sofa and plop yourself down, shifting slightly to situate yourself and get comfortable. "dragon sho- oh, you mean game of thrones?"

wanda hums in response as the rim of the glass sits perfectly on her lips to take a sip of her wine.

wanda watched intently as you mimicked her actions. the way your arm flexed when you leaned forward to pick up the glass and how your lips look deliciously wet as you licked away the lasting taste of the wine you had just sipped. it was a sight to see and it made the sokovian's head reel with lust.

"it's a great show," you finally respond, tucking your feet under yourself before leaning back onto the comfy cushions behind you. "i could show it to you sometime, maybe? it's well-acted and has great storylines in it, just be prepared for a lot of sex scenes"

wanda sniggers at that, "medieval porn? i'm sold"

you laugh loudly, the sound escaping you before you could even attempt to lower the volume. you almost want to apologise for the outburst but when you turn your head to wanda, she's staring back at you with a cheshire cat grin that eases your anxiety.

ᗢ

the night carried on smoothly, you and wanda laugh over the bottle of wine as you switch between watching the episodes of the dick van dyke show and talking about different topics and interests. the drunker you get the more random the conversations become.

and as you look at wanda, her smile reaching from ear to ear as she watches a scene unfold on the television, it only seems to make your drunken crush-filled mind worsen.

"wanda, can i ask you something?"

you clamp your mouth shut as soon as the words leave your mouth and you instantly mentally scold your brain for speaking without so much as a thought of the possible consequences.

wanda reaches forward to set her empty glass on the wooden table before shifting slightly to turn and face you. "of course, sweetheart. you can ask me anything"

you swallow dryly, making you lift your wine glass to your lips to finish off the rest of what's in there. you chew on your bottom lips nervously, your eyes staying focused on the glass in your hand. "can you.. does it make you a bad person if you're with someone and you like someone else?"

wanda's brows knit together as the words hit her ears. she stays silent for a moment before her lips part slightly, thinking of the best way to answer such a question. "i think that's a query that could have many different answers, moya lyubov"

she pauses for a moment.

just a moment and the tranquillity makes you hear your heart beat loudly in every pulse point of your body.

"why do you ask?"

you shouldn't say it. you really shouldn't.

but, the alcohol had settled within you a while ago and it left you tipsy, needy and with a newfound confidence that screamed at you to tell her everything. to just confess even if it could leave you humiliated and deflated. "well, the thing is.."

the words faded on your tongue, quickly dying as wanda's big green eyes bore into you and what felt like, your soul.

"go on," wanda urged, her arm reaching over to place a gentle hand on top of your thigh, just below your kneecap. she gave it a soft squeeze before continuing. "you can do it"

"i'm happy with kate, she's great. but, there's this other person and i just.. i don't know what to do. i feel like such a shitty person"

wanda arched an eyebrow, her lips parting just an inch. "okay, i- how long have you been seeing this other person?"

"the thing is, i haven't, it's complicated, they don't even know how i feel"

your heartbeat was deafening as it beat loudly in your ears. you should stop, this is a bad idea.

"i can't tell them because then it'll ruin everything and i like what we have right now but, i can't eat, i.. i can't sleep, they're all i think about and more"

wanda's grip on your thigh tightened as you spoke and all your brain could do was stare at her hand, using it as a fice to focus on, anything to keep your eyes from welling up and breaking like a dam as you splurge out the truth and every pent up emotion you've felt since wanda entered your life.

"oh, honey. i'm sorry this is happening, maybe you'll feel better if you're honest with this other person? i mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

you let out a shaky breath, your eyes pricking with tears as you look up from her hand and into the sea of green that lies beneath her eyes. "you could hate me"

"i don't understand- i could never hate you, y/n. how could i?"

you didn't respond, you couldn't. the words felt trapped in your mouth, the honesty dancing on your tongue in a silent battle with your brain and all you could do was hang your head in shame as wanda's body stiffened, her hand loosening its grip on you as her face soon turned to realization. "oh"

#wanda maximoff smut #stepmom wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff/reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel mcu #elizabeth olsen

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iamjacksragingboner · 5 months

Text

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Johnny's horrific catcalling and borderline harassment that he thinks is flirting

A/N: Going away for a few days to visit family for Christmas, so I will supply you with this first little chapter of the Cowboy Soap fic to keep you fiends satiated. Tried spending a little longer on the writing so hopefully it flows a bit better! Also, this is my first time writing Ghost, so look forward to more of him as he pops in through this fic :)

Clean up people's plates. Wash and dry cups. Pour drinks. Wake up the sorry sod that fell asleep at the bar. Collect tips. Sneak out back to wipe the sweat from your face and smoke.

It was a shift like any other. You sighed, the smoke pluming out in front of you in a tired cloud, then dissipating, and you snuffed the cigarette with the heel of your boot. The afternoon sun beat down on you like a sluggish brute as you smoothed the apron of your smock and stepped back inside, the muffled sounds of clinking glasses and patrons chatting amicably becoming clear once more.

Slinking your way back to the bar, you nodded at a gruff old man who tipped his hat at you, poured him his usual and slid it over to him. In turn, he flicked you a single coin as a tip. It was a relatively slow day in comparison to the usual lively energy of this dusty little inn, and you were thankful for the copious smoke breaks you could cop, thanks to your brother being on shift with you.

The brother in question bumped your shoulder, and your gaze flicked to his figure towering over you, black bandanna covering the lower portion of his face. "You good to handle the place while I pop out for a bit?" Simon asked, putting down the glass he was wiping. "Got an old friend coming into town sometime soon, I wanna go make sure there's a room set up for him upstairs."

You nodded in affirmation, blowing a strand of hair from your face. "Fine by me, 's not like there's anyone here anyway." As proof of this, you gestured to the sparsely filled room, the usual crowd of cowboys having been out for the past week or so. Simon was usually amongst them, but had chosen to stay behind this week, helping you man the tavern so you weren't on your own.

Cowboys were a generally thick bunch, in your opinion. Some of them couldn't tell their dick from their asshole, and you'd dealt with enough drunk and rambunctious cowboys to have a general distaste for the rest of them, no matter how 'intelligent' they claimed to be. All except your brother of course, who was smart enough to co-run the tavern with you, but had enough casual idiocy in him to coexist with other cowboys, yet not entirely enough to bother you completely. In your mind, he was gaining insider info, as it were. You'd never tell him this, however, for fear of copping a playful smack to the side of the head and a night of solo dish duty awaiting the end of your shift.

Simon nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling into a smile—he was never one for many words, often opting for silent looks you had to spend years trying to decipher, even now you have moments where you aren't quite sure what he entirely meant—before he patted you on the shoulder as he passed, walking upstairs to the rooms, kept open for travelers and folks too drunk to walk home. In turn, you picked up where he left off with the dishes, wiping dry mugs and placing them in their respective shelves.

From the little Simon had said and the magnitude that he had alluded through a myriad of looks, his friend—Johnny as he affectionately called him—was a lovely man, despite his cowboy career path. Lively, a bit on the rowdy side of things, but he was sure you and him would get along just fine.

The tavern doors open with a slam that you cringe at—you'd have to check the hinges before you went to bed that night—and in waltzed a troop of unruly looking cowboys, with dust in their hair and hands in their pockets; it wasn't hard to tell they thought they were the shit. They weren't all faces you recognised, but that wasn't all that uncommon—most cowboys tended not to settle in one town for too long, preferring a life of travel that you just couldn't get behind.

They sauntered up to the bar with an air of authority and almost pompousness, as if their very presence in here was something you should marvel at, almost as if they weren't the bane of your existence. Almost. You shouldn’t hate them too much; they provided the majority of the income that kept this tavern alive, even helped build the damn thing, but fuck they could be annoying sometimes.

You served the first two their drinks with as little communication as possible; if they caught you in a conversation, you'd be subject to a half hour's earful of their latest travels that you really didn't feel like listening to.

The third seemed hellbent on making his presence known to you, refusing to prowl over to the tables with the rest of his friends once he'd been served, instead choosing to sit and ogle you as you worked. Which was fine, it wasn't as though you weren't used to men's lecherous eyes linger on your body as you worked; wasn't exactly pleasant, but you never felt particularly unsafe, knowing your brickhouse of a brother was usually close by to scare them off.

What annoyed you was the way he would smirk any time your eyes happened to meet, which was more than once. It didn't help that he was attractive in most senses of the word, so you found yourself stealing glances more than you would have liked. Your eyes grazed along his thick arms, dense with muscle and tanned from days spent in the sun, down to his hands wrapped around his whiskey, and you made quick note of every detail you could make out through stolen glances when you were sure he wouldn't catch you. Dirt under the nails. Gnarled and scarred knuckles. Callouses on his palms. Strong hands. Worker’s hands.

You almost felt guilty, sinful even, admitting this to yourself, but he was a mightily attractive fellow; didn't stop you from shuddering when he caught you eyeing him up, and winked.

"Like what ye see, lass?"

Fuck, even his voice was attractive, an accent you couldn't place and a gravelly, casual tone that you were sure rumbled in his chest like thunder or falling stones when he spoke. You wouldn't ever admit this to him though—too many issues in falling in love with a stupid cowboy, in your opinion. You chose to instead keep your trap shut, and turned your attention to pouring another drink for the grizzled old man at the end of the bar.

"Strong silent type? I like it. Means I get ta haver yer ear off as much as I want. Yer not a bad lookin' lass either, I certainly wouldnae turn down a chance to bed a bonnie like yerself."

And just like that, any inkling of a budding attraction that was forming for this handsome young cowboy disintegrated right in front of your very eyes in an instant. You found yourself chewing the inside of your cheek raw with the effort of not kicking him out of the tavern and banning him from ever stepping foot in here again.

"Ye can call me Soap—it's what the bonnies call me—they say I give the best baths, and my massages after are highly rated too, but ye didnae hear that from me, lass."

Grit your teeth. Breathe in deep. Close your eyes. Turn around and do something else, anything else, just distract yourself for long enough for him to lose interest.

A low wolf whistle when you turned around was what did it, made you whip around with a bottle in hand, held high over your head and poised, ready to crack over his sorry head in that stupid fucking hat and his stupid fucking grin that stupid handsome cu-

"Johnny!"

Simon was thumping down the stairs, and you didn’t think you'd ever heard that amount of sheer joy in his voice. That wasn't what caught your attention however. Your eyes go from Soap—who turned at the mention of the name, a beaming smile plastered on his face—to Simon, who wrapped the man in a bone crushing hug and turned to face you with his arm around Johnny's shoulder. Soap's shoulder. You put the bottle down, for your brother's sake.

"This is Johnny," Simon said, and you could practically feel the sunbeams peaking out from under his bandanna.

Of course it is.

Contrary to your expression of shock, anger and mild embarrassment, Soap was ecstatic. "So this is yer bonnie lass of a sister I've heard so much about!"

Go choke on a tumbleweed and die, cowboy.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #cowboy soap mactavish #cowboy soap #cowboy soap x reader

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undercoverpena · 2 years

Text

favours and antics

matt murdock x fem!reader

warnings: alludes to smut, fwb, written on phone be aware: spoiler-ish for she-hulk episode 8, slight mention to this episode in relation to our whorey-devil

masterlist

It wasn’t that you were jealous, but you couldn’t deny your heart sunk when Foggy said Matt was out of town.

Your beer suddenly not hitting the same spot.

The music not thrumming through your bones in the way it usually does.

Your smile more forced.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Foggy or Karen, but the evening did not seem nearly as fun. Not that you could say it, not with how Foggy stared at you when Karen explained what he was doing out of town. A case, she explained. Likely flirting up a storm, is what else she’d added.

You’d become good at hiding your emotions, able to apply a mask of your own before you show too much.

Because Foggy doesn’t understand.

Hell, sometimes you’re not even sure you understand.

Even if you were the one who made Matt agree to just be friends, although it’s your body occasionally betraying you.

Friends.

Not even really lovers.

Just people who are friends that occasionally fuck. It was simple. Easy. No complicated feelings and relationship demands.

He lives his life, you live yours.

Even if feelings try to ruin it. Your work allowing you to bury yours, using work as an escape; Matt doing whatever Matt does between lawyering and vigilantism.

You try not to think about it.

Because he’s great with people. He’s a flirt. Someone who truthfully doesn’t have time for a whole other person in his life, and yet rarely is ever on his own.

Which is why it’s easy to slide into his arms. The flirting growing either over a game of pool, a few too many beers, or even a bad day. It should end there, but it never does.

You always finding yourself kissing him, letting your fingers undo shirt buttons as you run palms over healing wounds and scars. His hands freeing skin, kissing every inch, running his teeth over collarbones.

All of which is the very reason you’d been avoiding him—until the bar the other night. Hoping to ask him a favour then, with people around.

Not like this.

Not in his office.

His small, well-lit office, with no one else even around to interrupt.

He also looked good, annoyingly good. That sweet smile doing a number on you before he even said hello. Your hands diving inside your bag, needing something to do.

“Foggy said you were disappointed I was out of town when you met for drinks?

Fucking Foggy, the gossip.

You smile. “Well, I’d hoped to ask you for a favour.”

“I see.”

“How…” you ask, pushing your hair from your shoulder, “um, was your business trip?”

He smiles, likely reading straight through your words. The way you nervously asked.

His fucking gift making it easy to know all your secrets.

“Interesting. A little different than New York.”

Your eyes narrow because you noticed the infliction. That same pang filling your chest from the bar, one you try to quickly swallow. Trying not to replay the way he said interesting with that smug voice.

“The bars as good?” you ask, your jealously bubbling. Remembering Foggy calling, telling you and Karen that he’d heard him out. “I was with Foggy still, he’d said you were at a bar.”

His hand moves to his hips, his lips sliding up into one of those smirks. One you suspect he uses on everyone he wants to woo.

Because he knows what he does to a person. He’s not stupid. He’s whispered it in your ear before. That he can hear your heartbeat. How it quickened when his hand steadied your hip as he stood behind you at the pool table.

“You sound awfully jealous there, sweetheart?”

You lick your lips. Thinking of how best to respond, when you realise it’s better if you don’t.

“Anyway, as I said, I need a favour. I have a situation with a client of mine—I know you just travelled for a favour but…”

Your words slowly dying as you watch his hand outstretched, moving from his hip. Handing him the file—the one you’d already had put in Braille, something which seemed to make him smile when his fingers brushed over it.

Even if you’re trying not to let it bother you, his smile warms you. You busily trying to fill him in on the complaint, his head occasionally tilting as you talk, finger running across the papers.

You give him a minute—one that feels like an hour.

Able to smell his aftershave, all wooden and musky, the scent which has clung to your skin on many occasions. One which rushes memories and feelings, making your chest tighten.

“So, can you help?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

You let out a soft breath, closing your bag. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

“No problem, we’re friends after all, aren’t we?”

You glare, sighing, before nodding. Because you know what he’s getting at. While also knowing in his freaky way, he can sense your nod, likely even your annoyance at his word choice, turning to the door as he speaks again.

“And, if you ever fancy being reminded of how friendly we can be, you don’t need to wait to meet me at a bar to find out. You can call me.”

Letting your hand fall from the door handle, you look over your shoulder. His hand on his hip, suit jacket pushed back from his waist; the glasses removed, that shit-eating smirk on his face.

For a second, you just stare at him.

Both in admiration and in annoyance, the two swirling together as he moves around his desk. The room suddenly feeling smaller, the air tighter.

Asshole.

Beautiful, handsome asshole.

And then he’s behind you. Enough of a gap left for you to open the door, to leave.

But close enough to stop you if he wanted to.

So you straighten your spine, applying your best smirk. “I don’t think you have it in you to fuck me like I need, Murdock. But, if I fancy having an itch scratched that my vibrator can’t hit, I’ll call.”

Before you can even reach for the handle, his hand presses the door into the frame, eyes narrowing when you look back at him.

“Friends don’t barricade friends in offices.”

“Friends also don’t lie to their other friends about how good they make them feel.”

You glare. “Are you telling me I’m wrong?” you continue. “Or are you trying to tell me your LA hook up didn’t scratch that itch, I’m sure you can find someone at Josie’s?”

He laughs. “Oh, no they definitely did. Just wasn’t sure if you needed the reminder of how good we are together.”

He feels closer, even if neither of you have moved. His presence alone growing greater.

“I remember. I also remember last time you leaving immediately after. Donning a leather suit and climbing onto roofs,” you say, turning to face him, standing to the side of the door. “I’ve had men leave, don’t get me wrong, never out of their own window, so no, I don’t want a reminder.”

He smirks, but it’s not the same as before.

Even less so as he closes the small gap between you both, pressing your spine against the wall, arm sliding over from holding the door in place to beside your head—even if you’ve long abandoned the idea of leaving.

“You want to repeat that?”

You don’t.

Not as your mind begins to run away from you. Thoughts of him pressing his body against you, feeling how firm it was; sinful ideas of him fucking you on his desk, a neutral ground for the two of you—except harmless flirting.

All the while trying to control your body, not wanting your cheeks to flush, your heart to race, or even let your body sweat from the longing and thought of him doing unholy things to you.

Because for a man of god, he didn’t fuck like one.

Even with your cockiness, your faux confidence and nonchalance, you knew there was no way you could truthfully say he didn’t know how to fuck a person. He did. And the fucking man knew it.

His free hand took your chin, tilting your face up to his—a little firmer than normal. “Care to share what’s gotten you so quiet?”

You swallow, instantly hating yourself for it.

Knowing he heard it. Just like you think he knows you’re trying to rub your thighs together. Especially when he slides his own knee between your legs.

“You sure you don’t want that reminder?”

“I’m not a toy, Matthew.”

He smiles, thumb stroking the side of your lips. “Shame. If you were, I’d play with you all the time.”

You let your eyes flick over his face, knowing his words shouldn’t work. They shouldn’t.

But they do.

“Drop your bag, sweetheart.”

You lift your chin. “Why?” you ask. Aiming for it to come out as more of a blunt question, than a breathy reply.

His fingers slide from your chin along your jaw, moving his face closer. “Just do it.”

And you do.

Both from the way his lips almost ghost over yours and the demand in his voice. His other hand, the one you’re rarely paying attention to, slides over your hip, sliding around and over the slope of your ass.

You just watch, not sure if you should stop it, leave, put the distance between the two of you that you think you both need. Or stay. Stay and likely defile his office.

“Stop thinking,” he whispers darkly, gripping your ass through your trousers, pulling your hips flush against his. “You’re not going to go.”

You swallow, lifting your hands, sliding them over his hips, fingers slowly untucking his shirt from inside his trousers.

Watching him, the way his jaw tightens, his lips occasionally twitch between a smile and a smirk. His lips still close, but you haven’t moved,—even if you want to.

Even if that want is obvious to him and his senses, feeling your own arousal when you clench your thighs together.

“You can k—“

You don’t let him finish, kissing him. Hearing him groan, it vibrating against your lips, feeling his grip on your cheek tighten. Your back more forcibly being pressed against the door as your fingers slide to the front of his trousers, toying with the idea of loosening his belt.

Almost ready to undo it, to give in, to surrender.

And then you hear the main office door open, both of you pausing, not wanting to move until you hear laughter and then:

“Matt?” Foggy’s voice calling out, yanks you both apart. “I brought you food.”

Your heart in your throat, eyes burning into Matt’s—watching the colour drain from his cheeks as he licks his lips.

“I’ll go—“

“No,” he says, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair as Foggy calls out again. “Yeah, cool. Thanks, Fog… I’ll be… I’ll be out in a minute.”

He reaches his hand out, taking your elbow and your attention. “Come to mine. Tonight.”

You arch your brow. “You gonna leave out a window again?”

“No, I’ll be too busy.”

“Busy?”

He smirks, moving his lips close to your ear. “You’ll see tonight, sweetheart.”

Your body goes warm as he kisses your cheek, your hand reaching for the door handle as his fingers slowly release your elbow.

“Matt,” you whisper. His head turning in your direction. “If I leave tonight knowing my own name, you’ve failed.”

His smirk broadened. “Oh, sweetheart. You aren’t leaving tonight.”

His hand turning the door handle instead of allowing you a chance to reply, adrenaline thumping through you as you follow.

#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x reader smut #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x reader smut

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aza-writes · 9 months

Text

All Night

Hogwarts Parties Series

Draco Malfoy x reader, Past Harry Potter x reader

Requested: no

Summary: Reader invites her boyfriend, Draco, to a Gryffindor party. What happens when she means to put on a little show for Draco, but Harry enjoys it a bit too much himself?

Warnings: alludes to smut, actual smut, dirty talk, Draco’s hands, vague description of a female body, drug use mention. Use of y/n

A/N: This was my therapy. Also, I watched the “10 Things I Hare about You” table dance scene sooo many times prepping for this. Also, this is my first smut so feedback is welcomed. The use of drugs relates to upcoming fics, all a part of a mini non-related series that focuses on parties at Hogwarts, so Hufflepuffs smoke, grow, and sell while Slytherin is their top seller. It’s like that TikTok trend from March.

Gif: @love-above

Draco’s POV

Never in a million years did I think I would be at a Gryffindor party, nor would I fall in love with a Gryffindor who would invite me to a Gryffindor party. Nonetheless, here I am, sipping on fire whisky as a mix of red and yellow figures swirl around me, but none of them matter. What matters is the giggling girl in front of me holding a ⅔ full bottle of fire whisky with her house tie wrapped around her head. And I only had a glass and a half, and she’s managed to drink the rest by herself. And no, she can not hold her liquor well.

Even now, when we are standing close to the wall, she swayed her hips while singing along to the muggle song blasting throughout the common room, only stopping momentarily to take a swig out of the bottle. She manages to capture the attention of every guy in the room, yet she doesn’t notice. All she cares about is knowing all the words to the song, and when she doesn’t, she drinks. But I can’t even concentrate on that. All I can see is her tight, low-rise jeans that barely sit above her hips and a shirt that exposes her whole midsection. She loves the attention, and she thrives in it. No wonder she’s in Gryffindor.

“Drayyy,” she turns around and gives me puppy dog eyes, “let's go dance! Come dance with me!” She takes a swig out of the fire whisky bottle, allowing the alcohol to give her even more confidence than she already had, causing an “I can do or say anything” mentality.

“I’m not sure, darling; I think they’ll boo me off the dance floor.”

Y/n frowns at this. “But yoou dance at the Sslytherinn oness.” She then wraps her arms around my neck, never stopping the movement of her hips. “Please dance with me, Dray.”

“In a minute, my love, I need a bit more of anything in my system before I have a fraction of your courage.”

She sticks out her tongue like a child and returns to a dopey, drunk smile before sloppily kissing me. “Okay, baby-” As soon as she was about to say something else, she pauses. She focuses hard, then gasps. “Draco! This is my song! I’m dancing with or without you.” Before I could answer, she heads off to the dancefloor.

Y/n meets up with her friend, whose braids have appropriately incorporated red and yellow, and dances with her. More accurately, dances on her. I’m mesmerized as her hips sway to the beat, and she uses the bottle as a microphone. I don’t even recognize the song, but y/n doesn’t miss a word, even in her drunken state.

I’m amused at her little dance and have gathered enough courage to go out and dance with her when I notice her eyes light up as the lyrics sing, “What’s wrong with right here on the counter?” Right next to her is a table that previously hosted a beer pong tournament that now sits vacant. It was like Merlin was speaking to her, telling her exactly what she had to do next. Before I could even register what was happening, with fire whisky in hand, y/n climbed onto the table and began dancing again.

With her new stage, she gained a lot more attention. She never missed a beat, her hands, head, and hips moving in sync. As the cheers grew, so did her confidence, allowing her to do even more provocative moves. But her eyes never landed on the many boys and girls around her. No, they landed on me every second they could. And her attention enough to pull me in.

I stride over to the table, starting to feel the effects of the fire whisky slowly sink into my system. I worm my way through the crowd, pushing people out of my way to get to the edge of the table. If this is a show for me, I want a front-row seat.

She runs her hands over her body, keeping eye contact with me as she performs for her whole house. She throws her hair back and swirls her hips around, all aimed at me. As the first chorus comes to an end she raises the bottle to her lips and sings along.

She keeps me up

“I keep you up!”

She keeps me up

“I keep you up!” This time, it wasn’t just y/n but the whole common room.

All night

“All night!”

All night

“All night!”

As I watch her begin to dance to the second verse, I can’t help but notice one figure across the table. Staring right up at my girlfriend, my y/n, was fucking Potter. His mouth was gaped open, mesmerized at her movements. Usually, I wouldn’t be that upset; most people realize y/n is mine and back off immediately, understanding they are just making trouble for themselves. But this is different because it’s Potter, my enemy Potter, or even worse, y/n’s ex-boyfriend Potter.

He’s so enamored with her that he doesn’t even realize I’m glaring daggers at him, but y/n notices. She looks down at me, realizing my attention isn’t on her. She follows my gaze, landing on Potter. When she makes eye contact with him he blushes, knowing he's been caught. I expected him to stop staring at her and go anywhere else, but no. All he does is smile and wave at her.

Potter fucking smiles and waves.

At MY y/n.

Y/n continues to dance, making her moves flow to the beat, but instead of her eyes on me, she keeps them on Potter. My jealousy forces me to keep my eyes on Potter too, watching his reaction to my girlfriend dancing. Fucking Potter couldn’t be bothered by me. He doesn’t care about how he’s staring at another man’s girlfriend.

I’m so consumed by jealousy that y/n’s face across from mine startles me a bit. She’s all I can see. She places her hand on my chin and forces me to look at her.

“Hi.” She smiles, her eyes glimmering with mischievous and lustful intent.

“Hello, darling.” I can feel my face and eyes soften while looking at hers. There’s something about her, I can’t tell if it calms me down or riles me up.

She winks at me then gets back up and dances again. She then returns her attention to me, no longer looking at Potter. Her eyes trained on mine. Her dance moves were intentional. It wasn’t until the song ended that she got off the table. The crowd that formed around her started cheering and going wild at her performance. They whistled and begged for “just one more song!” Despite everyone around her cheering, my eyes fall on Potter’s.

He doesn’t even notice I’m there until y/n stands next to me and kisses my cheek. The whole Gryffindor common room becomes a bit quieter upon seeing me in there. I’ve been able to go unnoticed until now. Everyone just stares at me, giving me confused and disgusted looks. I’m unsure how to feel. I don’t even care. I didn’t come to insult them or to cause trouble, I came for y/n.

She kisses my cheek again and turns my head to look at her, wrapping her arms around my neck. Instinctively my hands landed on her waist. I can feel the heat radiating off her arms. The heat of our bodies was circling between us two.

Between kisses on my cheek, neck, and nose she giggles and says “How did you like it?”

“I liked it when you were looking at me.”

“Really? Cause you paid more attention to me when I looked at Potter.” She moves her arms from around my neck to hold my hand and leads me away from the middle of the room and up to her dorm and away from the scowls in my direction.

I pause, unsure of what to say. Was this her plan? I knew she was trying to make me jealous with Potter but did she know I would become this upset? Did she know I would react this way?

“You tricky little minx.” It’s all I can manage to say, especially when she starts to run her hands over my arms, wiggling my jacket off my shoulders.

Y/n still faces me as she opens the door behind her back. “You weren’t watching me, so I made you.” She brings her leg up and kicks the door in with one foot, walking backward into the room as she pulls me by the collar of my jacket. As soon as the door is closed she fully takes my jacket off my body, then slowly unbuttons my shirt.

“Like I said, tricky little thing aren’t you?” I let out a small chuckle at her boldness. Typical Gryffindor, in all the right ways.

“I know what I want, what I want is your attention.” She turns us around and pushes me onto the bed, my shirt fully unbuttoned. She smiles at me as she strips off her shirt, discarding it somewhere in the room. I couldn’t be bothered to look where it went though, my eyes were trained on y/n’s.

“You have it love, I couldn’t imagine taking it off of you.”

A little smile pops up on her face, a light blush creeps across her cheeks. She unbuttons her jeans, pulls them down, and steps out. “Good boy.” She climbs onto my lap and sits herself down. Instinctively my hands land on her hips, gripping tightly to ensure she doesn’t leave my sight. “You’ll keep being a good boy for me, right baby?”

“I need to be a good boy?” She nods. “You’re the one that needs to be taught to behave. Showing off like that in front of Potter.”

“Oh yeah?” She giggles lightly.

“Yes darling, now be my good girl and lay down on the bed.”

Her smirk stays as she gets up from my lap and onto the bed, resting against the perfectly propped-up pillows. “Only for you.”

I step out of my pants as I climb onto the bed. It only takes a light tap on y/n’s calf for y/n to prop her legs up and spread them. She’s still wearing the smirk on her face, naughty little thing thinks she’s won.

“Since I danced for you, you should dance for me.” She giggles a bit. Poor girl thinks she’s going to get away with her little stunt that easily is she?

I let out a small chuckle, not wanting her to know my true intentions for tonight. I waste no time with my plan and kiss the inside of her thighs. Even though I want the plan to start quickly, the plan is nothing but fast. This will be a very, very long night. I slowly kiss the inside of her thighs, slowly inching toward her pussy. Her breath hitches. One heel drags down the length of the bed before going back up to its prompt-up position.

I kiss closer and closer to her clit, teasing around it. Y/n’s moans turn lighter, airier. Her hands drift down and grip my hair. I sit up and pull away, causing y/n to whine.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me, darling. Only good girls get to and you were so, so naughty tonight. Do you understand?” I look up at her lightly, her smirk and any pride drops. All she does is nod, I need more. “Use your words, princess.”

Her eyes turn soft, making puppy dog eyes at me. “Yes, I’m sorry.” The way she gave in too quickly isn’t enough. She’s planning on doing something again. She hasn’t learned, she’s only saying that to get her way—such a naughty girl.

“No, that isn’t going to cut it.” I get up, causing her to whine even more, such a pathetic slut. “Stop it, or don’t. Depends on if you want to get punished. I can not make you cum tonight if that’s what you want.” That got her attention. She shakes her head, worry fills her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

I walk to the top of the bed and rip the Gryffindor tie off her head. “Hands.” She immediately puts her wrists together above her head. I love how submissive she becomes. She projects such a confident, independent persona that all crashes down as soon as I call her a good girl. Merlin, I fucking love it.

I wrap her wrist tight on the headboard, making sure she can’t get out but wanting to avoid unnecessary pain.

“Use your words, darling.” I stand at the end of her bed, facing her. “What do you want me to do to you?”

“Touch me Draco.” She keeps her eyes on me and raises her voice a bit more, trying to keep some control.

I smirk at her, causing her to let down her guard again. “Such a confident girl, yet you can’t ask me properly how you want me to fuck you. If you just want me to touch you I can put my clothes back on and we can cuddle all night, but I think you want more.” I get on the bed, placing my hands on either side of y/n, hovering over her. “What do you want?”

“Fuck me.” there’s a pause. I’m waiting for a complete response. She knows better. “P-please.”

I kiss her softly. As I pull away I gently bite and pull her bottom lip a bit before letting go. “Good girl.”

I sit up and grab my wand from the pocket of my jacket and point it at the door. “Muffilato. Colloportus.” I set my wand back where it was then hover back over y/n. “I don’t think any of your friends downstairs will notice with all the noise, but just in case.” I slowly crawl down to the edge of the bed, returning to my previous position. I kiss around her pussy again, inching closer and closer to her clit but carefully avoiding it. “ I want you as loud as possible for me.”

She nods, but it’s cut off by her throwing her head back as I lick a long stripe up the length of her folds. Although I’m getting some sort of reaction, the lack of noise from her is very upsetting. I am the first one to admit it, I’m greedy when it comes to this. I need her screaming and shaking by the end of this.

I move one of y/n’s legs so her thigh sits on top of my shoulder, giving me a better angle of her soaked pussy. She’s glistening at this point. Her buzzed state amplifies the teasing, making every touch linger longer.

Every time my nose brushes against her clit, a loud, resounding moan leaves her mouth. Her eyes closed tight and she yanks on her tie, trying to escape the makeshift binding.

After teasing her clit for a while, leaving small kisses on it then going back to tongue fucking her pussy, she squirms a bit.

“Dray, please.” She swallows. “I need more. Quit teasing.”

I sit up, causing her to whine even more at the loss of contact. “I’m sorry darling, I thought you said you would be good for me?” I lightly bite the inside of her thigh, instigating more little yelps and whines from y/n.

“You’ll get what I think you deserve.” I bite the inside again, this time a little higher up. “Besides, you’re clearly enjoying this. Even though your thighs are covering my ears, I can hear every little sound you make.” I slap the outside of her thigh and make her open up her legs again. She complies almost instantly, and I go back to devouring every inch of her I can get my mouth on; this time though, I pay a bit more attention to her clit.

She continues to pull on the restraint and buck her hips up. I had to result in holding her hips down tight against the bed so I could continue.

She’s lucky I love her or I wouldn’t put up with this defiance.

But she knows I like the cat and mouse just as much as she does.

Her eyes stay shut tight as I suck on her clit and slide one finger into her dripping pussy. I curl my fingers before she gets to adjust to the new sensation. After only a few seconds, I slowly pump my fingers while feverishly sucking on her clit. Her moans went from soft and quiet to loud and breathless. Her brain is turning to mush as her walls tighten around my fingers. She’s close, but I want her on the edge. I want her on the cusp before I finally…

There it is.

I pull my fingers out and detach my lips from her clit. She whines again, trying her hardest to buck her hips up to get some form of contact. I kiss along the inside of her thighs and up her torso, giving extra attention to her hip bones and in between her breasts.

I can feel her breath becoming increasingly rapid, her chest rising and falling faster. Little whines escape her lips as I leave hickeys all over her breast, collarbone, and neck. There wasn’t a surface unmarked when I made it to her lips.

I pull away, making her whine even more. I go back to marking up her neck. “You won’t cover these up tomorrow. I want everyone to see them.” She nods as I suck on the spot behind her ear that makes her weak every time. “A painting just for Potter to see.”

I can feel myself growing harder inside my boxers. Y/n can feel it too dragging against her thigh, or I assume so from the groans she lets out whenever I accidentally brush my hips against her. Even I can’t help myself from letting out a groan.

I can’t wait any longer, I need to be in her.

I pull away from her, shoving my underwear off before she even has the chance to complain. I get back on top of her and smash my lips onto hers. She smirks during the kiss, I do too a bit. I slip my tongue in gently as I ease myself into her dripping pussy. I hand my head down and moan, relieved to finally be inside her. Her high-pitched moans bring me so much confidence, it’s a nice ego boost knowing I get this reaction out of her.

After giving y/n some time to adjust, I start to thrust slowly.

As much as I love the control and dominance I have over y/n I want her hands clinging to me. I can’t just untie her hands and let her think she can be bratty whenever she wants. Right now, I would kill for her nails scratching my hair and down my back. I need the sting that mixes with the pleasure. As much as she needed my hands on her, I need hers on me right now.

“Fuck it.” I reach up and untie her hands. Thankfully, she immediately brings her hands to the nape of my neck, letting her nails scratch my scalp and a little down my back. That little action intensifies the moment. Her hands know exactly what to do. I can feel them scratch down my back, causing me to let out a loud grunt and go faster. Her moans continue, each one ringing and lingering in my ears, my head.

I can feel my hips faltering, stuttering with every thrust. I’m getting close, so is y/n. I lift one leg up to rest on my hip, letting me reach a better angle.

“Dray,” her voice is so airy, “I-I’m so close.”

“Me too darling,” I pick up my pace even more, “let go for me.”

Almost instantly, she does. She squeezes around me and arches her back as she cums all over my cock. With two more thrusts, I cum as well. I stay in that position for a few seconds before carefully pulling out. As I do, y/n takes a long deep breath in. She only releases it when I lay down next to her.

“I love you Draco.” I turn to look at her, her chest rising and falling, working hard to catch her breath.

“I love you too darling.” I lean over and kiss her head. “I love you so, so much.”

I get up to try and to get something to clean her up with, but she pulls me back into the bed.

“Just,” she takes another deep breath, “Just stay here, with me.”

I just nod. I don’t know what else to do, this moment is so perfect. I have everything I’ll ever need whenever I’m with her. Right here, right now must be the definition of heaven. She is my heaven.

Taglist:

@alinefrank

#draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco malfoy x gryffindor!reader #draco smut #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy smut #draco x you #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction

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fallenangelics · 2 months

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Cat Got Your Tongue?

PAIRING | Angel Dust/Husk

WORD COUNT | 1407

SUMMARY | After a long day of filming, Angel is ready to have a relaxing night at the bar flirting with a specific kitty as a means to overexpress his emotions until Husk flips the switch and leaves Angel's heart jackhammering against his chest at some simple words and touches.

RATING | Teen And Up Audiences

WARNING/TAG(S) | No Archive Warnings Apply, Flirting

A/N | @rubra-wav created the beautiful banner below so go check out their content since they have some amazing stuff.

EVENTS | @eclipsingbingo | Banter

AO3 LINK | Read Here

"Hey Whiskers," Angel Dust purred as he sauntered towards the bar with a sway in his hips. He had just gotten back from an all-day shoot, Val calling him in bright and early to make sure they could fit in as many different scenes as possible. The long hours of shooting almost made him contemplate staying the night in his old room at the Vees tower, but then he remembered there was a certain kitty always waiting up for him. “You haven’t been up long waitin’ for little ol’ me, have you?”

“Pfft, no,” A laugh almost echoed off Husk’s lips with the words as his usual grimace-laced face filled with amusement. Even as Husk laughed at his expense, Angel couldn’t help but smile as he sat down at the bar in the same seat as every other occasion, resting his head in a hand. Without even a second passing, Husk was loading a martini glass onto the counter and sliding it over to him. “I had jobs to do. Manning the bar ain’t the only thing I got to do in a day.”

“Oh really?” Angel questioned suspiciously as he brought the drink up to his lips for a test sip. Everything Husk made him was always amazing, he had however grown a habit of checking every drink before properly relaxing and drinking it since beginning working for Val, not that he ever thought Husk would do something such as drug his drink. “And what is it that you get up to when I’m not around, Babycakes?”

“Many things,” Husk supplied without actually listing anything, hoping it would allude to enough unneeded examples so that Angel wouldn’t feel the need, not that it stopped the Sinner.

“Like?” Angel continued to push, setting his drink down to lean further across the bar, the short dress that Val had made him wear that didn’t even cover half of his ass falling down at his chest fluff, exposing the makeshift cleavage.

“Like cleaning drinks, restocking alcohol, shopping for toppers,” Husk trailed off, trying to keep an air of nonchalance as he listed the first few things that came to mind. Of course, they had all been things he did for the bar, leaving him to hope that his mannerisms spoke more as if there were far too many to count. He wasn’t however about to Angel what Alastor had him doing throughout the day.

“That all sounds like bartender duties to me,” If it was possible Angel somehow shifted closer in his seat, trying to bring his face closer to Husk’s. A few bristles of his chest fluff began to brush against Husk’s due to this proximity, one of his extra hands coming up to walk his fingers across the bar top. “Are you sure you're as busy as you say you are? It’s okay to admit that you were just waitin’ up for me, I’m not gonna judge you, Baby.”

“Is that so?” Husk asked, his voice coming out raspy to his own ears. The sound of which sent chills running down Angel’s spine, never having heard the bartender speak in such a way. Something inside his brain clicked at the notion, his attention suddenly spiking as he applied all of it to Husk. A choked hum of agreement was forced from Angel’s lips as he tried to keep his composure. “Well, I can go on all night ‘Baby,’ if that’s what you want to do.”

Husk had pushed himself to meet Angel in the middle. Their faces were impossibly close, breaths intertwining as they shared the same air. It was almost intoxicating, Husk being this close to him willingly without Angel having to go the extra mile to get up close and personal with him. From this close-up, he could see all the golden ridges of his irises, the crinkles of his little nose and every piece of stray hair that made up his furry being.

Clamming up, Angel could do nothing else but stare at Husk for a few seconds, his cheeks heating just from the proximity, sound and word choice that Husk had delivered. He hadn’t even been touched by the guy and he was ready to squeal like a virgin. It was almost embarrassing, having his mouth hung slightly agape and his face flaring to life, only concealed by the fur on his cheeks.

It seemed Angel took too long to respond quick enough to Husk’s words as a smug twitch of his lips overtook his face. Though it wasn’t the first time Angel had seen an expression similar to this on Husk’s face, it was the first time it had ever even remotely been directed at him, especially in this context.

“Why the long face?” Husk purred, a sound so uncharacteristically his as he let the words roll off his tongue. Reaching one of his clawed hands that were at least triple the size of Angel’s up to cup his face, his thumb danced across the white fluff that lined there, smoothing it out for Angel before it sank lower and graced over his bottom lip where it hung open. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I- Uh-“ Angel stuttered, all thought processes leaving his mind as he stayed rooted to his spot unmoving, scared that the slightest twitch would send Husk running. So instead of a witty comeback or just as flirty remarks as he was used to sending others' way, Husk was met with a stare akin to a deer caught in headlights from Angel. “Um…”

A guttory chuckle spilled from Husk’s lips as he took in the expression. Who would’ve thought that all it took to render the famous pornstar Angel Dust speechless was a bit of reciprocated flirting? “So you can dish it but you can’t take it?”

“I can take it,” Angel yelled once he got over his panic, noticing how Husk’s hand had stayed firm on his cheek. If it was possible his face heated up more as he himself almost broke the contact by leaning backwards, creating some much-needed space. “I can take a lot of things like dildos, spanking-“

“But not flirting,” Husk cut him off, one of his long red eyebrows quirking up with his statement. His whole face had relaxed out of the grimace it was usually set to, leaving Angel to take in a not-completely miserable bartender as his smile continued to widen as the night progressed, even if it was at his expense. “Isn’t that right, Baby?”

“I-“ Stumbling over his words, his black and white eyes flicked between Husk’s, searching for something he didn’t want to find. Before he could come to any revelation, Angel was pushing himself up and out of his chair, cutting off any contact that he and Husk were sharing. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Husk called after him even as he let out a deep cackle at Angel’s words and actions, his eyes trailing after him as Angel did a very bad job at fleeing the bar. Jumping over the counter in a quick swoop and grabbing onto Angel’s unfinished drink, Husk went chasing after him. “You’ve just got in and you’ve barely touched your drink.”

“I’ll take my drink to go then,” Angel declared as he stopped and turned around, ready to fetch it out of Husk’s hand. Instead, he was met with a large paw carefully wrapping around one of his many hands and pulling it in closer.

His lips ghosted the back of his hand as if waiting to place a kiss there as Husk’s eyes lingered on his. Angel made no move to pull away, his hopes slowly climbing as it seemed Husk was leaning in. As it almost nuzzled him, half of Husk’s face slid across his hand and up some of his arm before his fingers were being manually tightened around the stem of his glass.

“I’ll see you in the morning then, Legs,” Husk bid him goodnight, slipping past him as he left the tall arachnid behind with only a quarter of his brain functioning.

Being able to make it all the way up a flight of stairs before he heard the shattering of glass and the squeal of a school girl, Husk turned himself in for the night knowing his favourite resident was home safe for the night and that the games Angel liked to play with him got a whole lot more fun.

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superblysubpar · 1 year

Text

modern!steve harrington x fem!reader | friends with benefits

A cynic towards love, you're content with your casual and pain free flings. The universe can send you signs and meddle in your life, but you will not be another lovesick girl in a romantic comedy. No guy is worth that.

Not even Steve Harrington.

Part One: Chapstick

Part Two: Cutie

Part Three: Take A Picture

Part Four: Killing Me

Part Five: Getting Older

Epilogue: I Think I Met You In A Dream

💛 Acknowledgements

Bonus:

Space For You

meeting steve harrington is an out of this world experience. | a small prequel smutty oneshot to the series

Worth It

steve and a sunset make a bad day better. | a small moment in time that would take place during Part Two: Cutie

It Had To Be You

A collection of stories in the We'll Call It Love universe set during the events of the original story as well as after it.

Halloween Party Blurb

a glimpse into Eddie's POV by @rebelfell on the night of the Halloween Party, which is alluded to in the epilogue

#a we'll call it love blurb

where you can find any blurbs and new oneshots for the universe - smut, asks, nonsense headcanons and thoughts, whatever is wcil and extra can be found here

Key Things to Note:

18+ / NSFW series A modern AU filled with many familiar faces. There are canon hints, but nothing too serious. Robin Buckley is your best friend. Ronance thrives and there are brief mentions of hellcheer. In this series reader has two parental deaths in her past and they will be discussed. She drinks as do others in the group (all of age) and alcohol taste, smells, and effects will all be described throughout. A lot of smut The title and chapter titles are inspired by songs off of the "Uncanny Valley" album by COIN

🎵 The Music

🎶 Steve's Music

A lovely moodboard created for this series by @storyboardss 💛

A beautiful book/movie cover created for this series by @rebelfell 💛

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #modern steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series #steve harrington one shot

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v3nusxsky · 2 months

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Whispers of Seduction

*Authors note~ introducing Larissa Weems to Sinful souls. I wonder what kinks she’ll have ;) also can’t wait to get more into the storyline with the next few instalments smut coming soonnnnn*

Trigger warnings~ more harsh Leonora, shh jealousy is serious persistent Larissa club things overall teasing etc mentions of smut

Tag list

Nevermore continued to flourish and naturally the stress of having an Addams present ensured that the blonde shifter needed a break from being principal. Of course anything too close to the grounds of the school was off limits. As much as the woman deserves her own personal life, it seems most of the parents keep close watch on her time off grounds. Would that stop Larissa Weems from relaxing like she would in England? Absolutely not.

Attending Cambridge University taught Larissa many things, one being that despite her ability she too deserves pleasure. Naturally her dominance radiates in every aspect of her life, so that was how she found herself in a club one night, where the drinks were good and well, where she discovered who she is. In actual fact, Sinful souls looks similar to that club, luring her in with its tasteful, elegant style. The perfect location to unwind and be Larissa and not Principal Weems.

Settling into a booth in the back of the club her eyes instantly landed on you. You were manipulating your body up and down this pole with an unmatched elegance and skill. The six inch heels highlighting your gorgeous toned legs as your skimpy top caressed your beautiful pillowy balls of flesh as they spilled over the cups dark emerald cups. Your chosen song being buttons by the pussycat dolls adding to your addicting performance.

“Girl, I'm a freak, you shouldn't say those things” blared as you spam around the pole, practically seducing everyone watching with just one look with your beautiful irises. To say Larissa was drawn to you would’ve been an understatement. Promiscuous happened to be a regular song that clients asked for you to dance to, that’s why it’s okay fitting it’s the first song Larissa had the pleasure to watch. From there on she was hooked, ordering a tall glass of red as she settled In for the night, eagerly awaiting for Delicate Doll to return to the stage.

Larissa Weems is a stickler for routines which is her reason for returning to Sinful Souls every night after hours of Nevermore Academy, always managing to secure the same seat that provided her the best view of the stage. Of you. You’d had a particularly slow night the first time she tipped you, Slumber Party blaring through the speakers as your audience seemed to be predominantly sapphic allowing you to be a bit more flirtatious in your moves. And when her slender fingers reached up to tuck a twenty into your waist band her cheeks flushed red as you winked at her. You’d noticed her for the past few nights now, always there and always stunningly put together. Alluding dominance and elegance with every sip of the ruby wine.

From there Larissa would always secure private dances with you and only you, always tipping you well above the going rate and always complimenting you and trying to get to know you personally. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t cause your heart to flutter and your stomach to drop at her intense gaze and shy smile whenever she learnt something new about you. She made you feel like the only girl in the room, as if you weren’t a barely clad dancer in her lap, more like you were her lover.

Leonora prided herself on her awareness of the goings on in her club. Therefore, it should’ve been no surprise to you at all that she’d spotted the same blonde with you night after night. You also should have expected her to become colder, more harsh with your training and her comments on such things. See Leonora didn’t know why, but you affected her in this way, and Leonora wouldn’t stand for it. Every beautiful woman that worked their way into her sheets never seemed to compare to you. Often, she’d imagine you instead of them and on the odd occasion she was alone to satisfy her needs, it was your name on her lips, your eyes peering down at her blown pupils as she clenched around the fingers in her pulsing core.

If was you that the raven haired woman wanted on all fours pathetically begging her to make you cum, screaming for her as she tailed you into oblivion with her strap, her hands in your hair as she panted praises in your ear. You giving her the dances in the privacy of her room, for free. Yet, she also craved being the one you wake up next to, the one you smile up at, you being the one attends the club on her arm. Hers. And hers only. Not that pesky blonde woman you are constantly all over. No. You were her doll in her mind. Yet it seemed she now had some competition, and if there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s winning. Little did you know, you were the prize for both women. And little did they know you wanted them both in the most confusing yet beautiful ways.

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #sinful souls series #v3nusxsky sinful souls #sinful souls #Leonora x Larissa x reader

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year

Note

Hey!! So I wanted to ask if we could get a sukuna x reader sometime? Could be in his original form (four arms) or in his own human form (not yujis body jus like sukuna as a human yk nthn to do with the jjk story plot) that’s if you decide on doing it! All good if u decide no but I would love to see one shots of him in your writing. Much love, your biggest fan❤️❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Trueform!Sukuna takes care of his sick lover

Warnings: Fluff, Sick Reader, Caring Sukuna, Alluding to Pregnancy

*Sort of a prequel to little monster. Also yes, he’s OOC, if he wasn’t he would’ve eaten her

*Thank you so much for reading mwah mwah

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The day you met Sukuna was the scariest day of your life. Running away into the woods where you encountered the great monster. He had different plans that night, and they didn’t end up in you breathing like you are right now. He doesn’t know what happened. He just knows that now he’s wrapped around your finger, in a way he’s never been before. He’s never cared about anyone else like this. He seeks to destroy and kill, not love.

When he decided to not kill you, he was set on making you a servant, and again, he doesn’t know what happened. Because here he is, putting a cold towel on your forehead, making sure that your fever is going away. He has so many other curses that can take care of you, but he wants to do it himself. He’s so fucking weak for a human being, it’s truly pathetic.

“Go back to sleep.” He orders when he sees you opening your eyes. His voice isn’t as gentle as you’d like him to be, but knowing how ruthless Sukuna can be, the fact that he didn’t kill you for being sick is a miracle. But then again, he cares too much about you.

“Water…” You lift your head, and he reaches over to grab the water that he’s kept nearby, bringing it up to your lips. By the way he’s treating you, anyone would think that you’re nearly dying. You’re not on the brink of death, but you did faint while preparing dinner for the both of you. And you have a fever as well. Of course he’s worried.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself.” He comments as you drink the water. When you’re fulfilled, your head falls back to the pillow. One of his hands goes to your cheek and he caresses it which is ever so rare in this situation. He’s only sweet like this when you’re having sex and you’re taking too much. “C’mon, I know I’m going to outlive you, but you can’t leave me so soon.”

His lips go down and meet yours. Something he wouldn’t do if you weren’t sick. He hates how much he cares about you. “Go back to sleep. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“Sukuna, I might be…” You begin but you end up biting your tongue. But you don’t end up saying anything because you don’t know what his reaction will be. You’ll lead him to believe that you aren’t just doing your best, maybe because of exhaustion or a simple cold.

“Don’t worry about anything else. Just get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day.” He tells you. Not too long ago he was fine on his own, and now the mere thought of being without you… scares him. It’s moments like this where he regrets not eating you on the spot. When did he allow himself to be so pathetic?

It’s just that when he remembers you so scared and so teary eyed when you met, he feels a toll on his heart. He had never seen beauty like that. And then you ended up coming to his home that had never been so bright before. Usually a monster that looms in the dark, Sukuna found himself appreciating this brightness.

And while he loves you, he won’t tell you that. Even while you’re so sick. He’s never told you he’s loved you, even after the many times you told him you love him. Except in this moment, when your eyes are so heavy that you can barely hold them open. You won’t remember any of this tomorrow.

He caresses your cheek again, telling you, “I love you.”

He grabs your hand and squeezes it lightly, “You’ll wake up just fine tomorrow.”

And he was right. Better in a sense that you didn’t have a fever and weren’t so tired. But you were definitely sick because you woke up puking your guts out. You both soon found out that it wasn’t because you were sick– Or at least your condition wouldn’t be considered an illness.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader

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roomsofangel · 3 months

Text

I WISH YOU STAYED.

choi san | written by roomsofangel

pairing ex!san x reader

genre(s) angst angst angst!

word count 871

warnings just full on angst, there’s not really any comfort. mentions of reader consuming alcohol but its only once and nothing comes out of it. mentions of arguing, alludes to a toxic relationship despite they’re being a lot of love. right person wrong time sorta thing, a lot of hurt.

synposis its raining and you find yourself thinking of the past again

is it possible to meet again in the dream realm? is it possible to have the same dream? san finds himself asking this question, on a rainy night, thinking of the past

a/n i know i said i was gonna post an update for my current ongoing fics soon but i wanted to write this first and post it…now, this work means more to me than anything and i technically did have help despite them not knowing i’d even write about this. this is a form of also letting go for me in a way. i used specific quotes from my favorite movie that reminds me a lot of the situation and the person this was inspired about.

rain tapped against the window, a slow and steady beat that filled the room with its somber rhythm. the air is thick with the wet, damp smell of rain, mixing with the faint scent of your shampoo from the day before and the melancholy in your heart. your bed is warm against your skin, holding you close as you stare up at the ceiling

you weren’t sure how long its been, how many hours passed but the rain only got heavier with time and it reminded you of the internal struggle of what you seemed to always feel nowadays. what were you? the rain or the rainbow? the storm or the first speck of sun that comes shining through to give people reassurance its about to be a better day?

if you were asked at this very moment, you’d tell them that you were the storm and your rainbow went to go find another raincloud to help give reassurance to

“i need a drink,” you muttered despite being the only one in the room, sliding out of bed to wander off into your kitchen where you used your refrigerator as a nightlight. you took out a glass and set it onto your counter, going back and forth between the fridge and the countertop. you poured yourself some amaretto, watching it fill up to the top of your glass and set it back into its cold home before bringing it your lips

with each sip, you felt warmer inside but the ice that manifested itself to stay in your flesh and bone didn’t thaw out. you still felt hollow like you did that night.

“we were never good for each other..” he whispered, sniffling as he watched you with matching teary eyes. you swallowed the cry that threatened to spill, chewing on your bottom lip as you nodded. “and we tried.” he added in with a bittersweet laugh to mask he was hurting too

god, why did he always have to mask his hurt? you hated how he always did that even in your dreams, but was this even a dream when it all feel so real?

you watched how his hands came up slowly, cupping your cheeks to have you meet his teary gaze and you sniffled, “i know.” you replied back, voice soft and wobbly

“there’s more to life, y/n.” he pressed his forehead against yours and you let yourself breathe, taking in what would be the last time you could feel him again, “there’s more to life than arguments and whatever it is we had.”

you sniffled, “i know.” pressing your lips together, tears running down and you could taste the saltiness of your heart breaking. “i know.” you repeated again as if the first time wasn’t enough, as if the second time wasnt either and he sighed

it seemed as if everything was demolishing around the two of you, the room you were in. the floors creaked and the walls began to show signs of decay, the cracks becoming more evident while the windows, despite not making noise to show the damage, were shattering with each second that passed and you found yourself muttering, “what if you stayed this time?”

“we both know i can’t stay…” san whispered, voice filled with the same hurt you remember him having that night and you found yourself breaking more, “i walked out the door.”

you prayed to whoever was out there, whomever was making you have this lucid dream to let you keep this, let you have this one last time for a little longer but it seemed it fell on deaf ears from when you blinked and then found yourself at the same door you will always have burned into your memory.

you watched how san had his hands in his pockets, nose rosy as he sniffled and walked more out the door just how he did back then,

except,

the only difference was you running to the doorway, “san!” you called out, hands on the frame while your voice cracked at how you tried not to cry and he turned to face you with an expression that was filled with both surprise and heartache, “come back and make up a goodbye at least.” you managed to get out after the silent gaze made you fall apart all over again, “lets pretend we had one.”

and you could see his expression falter, how his adam’s apple bobbed up and down while he gulped and wiped his eyes when he walked towards you.

the same rain falls heavy against another window and slides down, leaving thin rivulets down the glass. a relentless makeshift waterfall that served as a constant reminder of the grief that dwells within san’s mind. he sits on the edge of his bed, sniffling and trying not to remember what he dreamt of but it burned through his skull and itched his frontal lobe

he swears he still had your words from that dream in his head, how you looked at him and called out from the door i wish you stayed.

he choked back in his sobs, letting himself stare at his hands while he wept, knowing you couldn’t hear how he whispered into the air, “i wish i stayed too.”

#choi san imagines #choi san angst #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez writing #ateez au #choi san #ateez san #choi san scenarios #choi san x reader #choi san writing #choi san ateez

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