#i wish i remembered the ground was reddish but i still like it

[mysterypigeon]

oh, the damage i have wrought

[doki-doki-imagines]

Kisses

tw: some suggestive, nsfw (Johnny Cage one)

author note: another idea I needed to write out. Hope you'll enjoy reading those!

If there is something Raiden can’t stand is seeing you cry; tears and snot don’t suit you. Raiden’s warm hands cup your face, calloused hands against your soft cheeks, thumbs brushing the remaining tears  “Come with me” he whispers, chocolate brown eyes looking at you with such passion they almost make you forget all your problems.

He takes you to the field where he spends most of his day “The stars here are brighter than anywhere else” he tells you, voice strong and reassuring before sitting on the ground next to you.

Words escape your mouth like a waterfall, no filter, brain shut, just the need to share, something you are not used to do.

Raiden listens to you, eyes never leaving your face, while you look at the starry sky, your eyes always elsewhere, too worried you’d lose the thread of the discourse if your eyes happened to meet.

“If I know something is that everything other than death has a solution.“ His forefinger push behind your ear a strand of your hair, the action makes you jerk, eyes widening and finally, you look at him.

There isn’t much light, but the moon frames his face perfectly. You can see a reddish hue coloring his cheeks, and a smile full of hope that makes your heart thump with joy “I’m sorry I can’t offer you a better answer, but-“ his hands grip your arms, strong, but without hurting, his strength perfectly stable “Never let yourself down, life will get better believe me.” You bite your tongue “It never does Raiden” you’d like to reply, but his words carry so much hope that you can only nod at him.

He lifts himself up from the ground and extends his hand out to help you.

“Thanks” You say after minutes of silence, your steps on the ground the only sound, not even cicadas try to interrupt.

“For the hand? It really is no-“

“For the company, for your words.” You look at him, now standing in front of your room. You kiss his cheek and wish him goodnight, a shy smile appears on his face as he waves at you.

The newfound warmness spreading from your heart is a new problem you’ll have to learn how to deal with in the next few months, for now, you can only rest and wait for a new day to start.

“You finally woke up, you idiot.” Tomas could recognize that voice between millions of others, so sweet and so caring even if they just called him an idiot.

Grey eyes scan the room, he’s in the infirmary bed, at Madame Bo restaurant. He and Kuai Liang got ambushed not that far and he remembers getting hit at the back of his head; that stung a lot.

“Do you know who I am?” Your voice trembles and Tomas has the urge to coo at you; obviously, he knows who you are, his heart keeps thrumming mercilessly against his ribcage the moment he opened his eyes.

“Yeah, I know, who do you think I am? A simple knock on the head won’t either kill me or make me lose my memory.” He half teases, but the scowl is still stuck on your face.

“Tomas-“ Your voice is serious and he can only look at you, at your trembling lips and shiny eyes “I seriously thought I lost you.” Your arms envelop his figure, your face hidden resting on top of his right shoulder,  new warmth adding to Tomas one.

He is stuck in place, but his mind is running wild. His left hand pats your head and he feels the corner of his lips twitching.

You must care about him a lot.

You lift your head up, your teary eyes locking into his gray ones, pupils wide, so deep he may lose himself in them. Tomas feels the time slowing down, almost stopping, your lips inching closer and closer ‘till they finally touch.

He reciprocates, not a single second lost, your lips dancing and searching for each other, breath mingling, tongue fighting in a battle of supremacy, both wanting to feel more of each other. Tomas pulls you towards him and your body falls onto his, chest against chest, heart beating at the same rhythm, divided by the layers of your clothing. Limbs tangle, hands everywhere, caressing and groping;  from an outside view, it wouldn’t be able to tell where one starts and the other one ends.

This ‘till your hand pulls Tomas’ hair. He breaks the kiss and flinch, maybe that was more than a little hit on the head. He can see you try to pull off from him, eyes full of worry, but his hands keep you in place, on his lap, fingers leaving indent on your hips that will for sure bruise.

“I-I shouldn’t have, sorry Tomas.” Your hands, so tiny and soft in contrast to his ones, push against his chest, like you are trying to distance yourself from him, head turned to the side not looking at him.

Your hair messy, your lips still red and bruised, and that worried expression, fuck, Tomas would like to frame his moment, your cuteness overwhelming all his senses.

Then you both hear a voice, it’s Madame Bo telling you to go back to work, the signal that he has to let you go. You remove yourself, Tomas’ hands finally loosening up. You brush your clothes in place and rush towards the exit.

“See you later” Tomas rasps out.

You nod.

Later you’ll have more time to talk about your feelings.

“Johnny-“ A breathy moan escapes your mouth.

The atmosphere is humid, the heat of your two bodies entangled is almost suffocating.

You missed Johnny, this new project he has been working on keeps him away from home for months. You are a supportive partner, you love him and you want to see him happy but, fuck, you missed him so much.

You are lucky he is on your same wavelength. He opens the door and your lips are already locked, hands unbuttoning shirts and pants being thrown somewhere.

“I missed you so much, Johnny.” You gasp in between kisses, your hand on the back of his neck to keep him impossibly close to you.

He groans, his hands now on your lower back lifting you up from the ground.

Everything else is a blur in your mind, you soon find yourself lying on the bed, legs open and Johnny working his tongue southward, your warm sex as inviting as water in the desert.

“Fuck-“ Your hand lay on his head, trying not to grip to harshly his dirty blonde locks.

“Yeah baby, tell me how good I am.” You look down to see his hips grind against the mattress, so desperate for you.

A wave of pleasure licks down your spine, your eyes roll back, throat exposed while you bit your bottom lip trying to keep a louder moan.

How good it is to be desired.

“J-Johnny you are so go-“ Your phrase gets interrupted by a gasp, a particular flick of his tongue makes you see stars, your legs reflexively close, but Johnny’s strong hands keep your thighs apart, fingers circling the inner side and you don’t know if it is done to calm you or him.

One of his hand leave your legs to play with your sex, his face now squeezed between your soft thighs, but your mind is too fogged to worry about crushing him, not that he minded his motions only getting faster and uncoordinated.

An orgasm soon permeates your body, Johnny lifts up, his lips drenched with your essence, his pupils blown wide, your heartbeat impossibly fast, a different kind of heat enveloping your limbs.

Your lips meet again, you taste your flavor on his tongue, lips locking, his hands now resting on your waist, pushing your chests impossibly close, but not enough, never enough.

“I love you.”

The night ahead is still long.

Bi-Han is awake, sitting on your bedding, naked, but the covers hide everything under the navel. The moon shines bright in the sky,  the light and shades framing his lover's body sleeping soundly next to him.

Bi-Han is a man eaten by greed, by pride, a man made more of scars than flesh.

But you love him and he loves you. It’s a feeling he never knew, it isn’t the kind of warmth he got from his mother's compliments, or from his brother's support, it is something much more exhilarating, that makes his eyes soften and his hardened core melt more than he’d like to admit.

His eyes land on your body, so soft, so sweet, he wants to defend you from all the ugliness of this world.

Maybe from him too.

He looks outside the window, the night is still long, but there is no sign of tiredness in his eyes.

“Bi-Han, it is late you should sleep.” Bi-Han breaths, he didn’t even notice how long he had been keeping his breath in, mind so busy and heart uneasy.

Your arms wrap around his neck, naked body laying on his back, your lips kissing his neck, where arteries and veins flow.

“Worried about something?”  Your eyes look at his face, he doesn’t look back but he knows, searching for any telltale sign of his emotions.

“Nothing you should worry about sparrow.” He breathes out, voice raspy as always.

You don’t believe him, he knows it. Your hand starts to trace the scars painting his skin, your lips barely caressing the newborn scratches on his back.

 “Tell me your worries, my heart.” Your arms hug his frame and push him down together with you.

Bi-Han doesn’t struggle against your hold, his head now in the crook of your neck, free hair tickling you.

“Don’t worry about me, tomorrow is a busy day and you need to rest.”  He kisses the tip of your nose, his calloused hand caresses your cheek, thick fingers drawing circles on your skin.

You kiss him, in a slow liplock. Eyes closed, hands holding.

Bi-Han bites your bottom lips before breaking the kiss and you groan, the only kind he likes.

He looks into your eyes and he only finds love, sweet and blissful. A new fire starts inside his heart.

Bi-Han still doesn’t know how to protect you from this accursed world, for now, he’ll have to settle for showing how much he loves you.

[the-doomed-witch]

✦ The Sky Is Where I Fell (For You)

Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader | Flight Attendants AU

Summary: When you and a former fellow trainee attend a flight together, but a really attractive blonde wishes to dally with you, feelings unravel. (Read Warnings)

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. MINORS + MEN DNI. smut, angst, jealousy, a bit of toxicity, brief Carol Danvers x Reader, Carol is a bit of an asshole here i’m sorry, top!reader & bottom!wanda, oral (wanda receiving), fingering (wanda receiving), semi-public, sex on an airplane lmao, finger sucking, daddy kink, praise kink, use of pet names, cunt slapping (wanda receiving), multiple orgasms, orgasm control

Author’s Note: those are a lot of warnings compared to any of my works 😭 you can guess that it’s just smut because i really would love to fuck flight attendant!wanda she’s such a little baby🥺 please don’t judge this harshly it’s my first time writing a lot of smut in one fic (as if it’s a lot) besides, i’m sorry for whatever character carol has you’ll kinda have to bear that i love carol danvers 😩 to the two dots anon, i hope you like this <3

Masterlist

YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO REPOST OR COPY MY WORK.

— ✦ —

The plane reached the runway, and it was time for you and Wanda to take your seats at the cabin crew seats. She sits down next to you and you give her a smile. You were familiar with her back from your training days, but nothing more.

It was common for you though, to attend a flight with a person you barely knew, so you were quite thankful for knowing her name rather than asking her last minute.

You fasten your seatbelts and breathe deeply before the airplane starts the take-off on the runway. The flight was supposed to be 9 hours long, and you felt like you were already exhausted. It meant multiple rounds around the cabin and constant checking around here and there. There were some more crew members resting in the crew rest apartment above you, who would cover the latter shift, so it was a relief.

The plane started running, then almost glided on the land, and no sooner than that, you departed from the grounds of the city you may never even come back to. The moment the land was not in touch with the wheels of the plane, you felt a wave gulfing you. Past went the tall buildings, and past went the cotton-like clouds.

Upon reaching the peak of the horizon, you take a deep breath. A substantial part of your work gets cut off the moment a take-off is successful. It means you can breathe for a few minutes, despite the change in altitude.

“Y/N, if I’m not wrong?” Wanda asks you, still smiling at you. You nod in reply, not really sure what else could have been said. “I think we know each other? Remember the Carter Airline Academy? A brunette girl, kinda shy, oh and I have a twin brother as well?” Her hair was gorgeously reddish ginger now. Maybe that’s why she preferred to indicate her former hair colour.

“Oh yes, Wanda! I remember you, we never interacted much but I know you.” You pretend to have just recognised her. But she looks so happy about it, it’s the least one could do for her. Her contented smile is so precious and contagious, that you cannot help but beam right back at her. “Well, now is the time if you wanna “interact much” you know. I don’t wanna get bored today.”

“Neither do I.”

— ✦ —

On the first round around the cabin, while serving the pre-booked meals, you happened to make an acquaintance. You and Wanda had been giving out the meals and drinks starting from the very first row, but as you proceeded forward, some of the overhead storage cabins started loosening. You asked Wanda to take the snack cart back to its place, to avoid a fuss.

Walking down the aisle, you closed and locked overhead cabins. And when your head was tilted to a side, a powerful looking woman with blonde hair stood up and shut the one behind you, before you could get hurt. You immediately turn around to see a muscular arm holding down the shutter. Goddamn.

“Th-Thank you ma’am,” you managed to say to her, “Is there anything I can do in return?”

She gives you a smile, and says, “First of all, Carol, please. And second of all, nothing. You’re an absolute cutie.” The last sentence was whispered in a low tone, then she winked at you. You were losing your mind standing next to her, she was superhumanly attractive. So you just blush and walk away back to Wanda to continue with your work.

“Carol Danvers” you mumble, looking at the list of passengers, and went back to giving out the meals.

While giving out the rest of the usual meals, you meet Carol once again. As she paid for her meal, she handed out a card with her phone number on it. You felt a bit of awkwardness with the passengers sitting next to her watching the two of you. However, you walk away twinking back to her. There was a high chance you were probably never going to call Carol, but you appreciated her very much. Plus, she was quite charismatic.

You enter the compartment where you and Wanda sat, and shut the door behind you. “How have you been ever since… you know, the academy?” you try initiating conversation with Wanda. She stares at you with a blank face, and you are confused. “Fine, I guess.”

You didn’t allow her bland response to ruin your mood. You just got hit on by a really pretty woman and you were here, trying to hit on the one beside you. You take out the card from your pocket and stare at it, while Wanda watches you.

“Actually, you know what Y/N? Why don’t you just go and fuck her? Seems like you have a lot of fucking to do. Hmm?” She asks you as her face tilted towards you, her warm breath on your cold cheeks.

Not going to lie, you did consider hooking up with Carol because you have been really needy all morning. But the way Wanda phrased it was very rude, so your expression faltered. “So… you’re jealous? Well uh, I don’t know how to phrase this well but I’m sure Wanda there are plenty of people who wanna fuck you. I can guarantee you, actually.”

“That is so fucking not what I meant.”

“Well what you’re thinking isn’t what I meant either.” You place a hand on her shoulder and get up, walking away towards the passengers’ compartment, letting your hand slowly slip away as you walk. You could sense Wanda’s reddened face from the back of your head. You go around asking every passenger if they required something.

You reach Carol and ask her, “Do you need anything, ma’am?” She gives you a wide smirk, “Nothing that I can’t think of.” She knew her game all too well, and she was being a fucking champion at it. But you were a bit more enticed by the redhead you left behind to contemplate.

Upon re-entering the cabin crew compartment, you saw Wanda waiting patiently for you. You sit down on the seat opposite to her, so that you would be able to notice her expressions. She nudged you to shut the door behind you.

The very second you two were alone, Wanda practically dived at you; connecting your lips with hers, moving along with you rhythmically. When you both begin gasping for air, you start marking Wanda’s neck gently, just enough to make her feel aroused, and to not affect her professional attire. Not that her shirt wasn’t already ruined, and her skirt on the verge of being so.

Her hands reach your shirt, and she proceeds to unbutton it, but you hold her hands in place. “You need to be a good girl and ask me first, baby. Or I won’t be touching you. You understand what I’m saying?”

She places her hands on your cheeks, each on one side, and says, “Yes daddy, I’ll be a good girl for you. Can I take off your shirt?” You groan at the honorific, unable to resist your need to give her what she wants right away.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that later. Let me get a taste of your pretty pussy first.” You guide her on the seat beside you, and spread her legs wide open. Her shirt rumples upwards and you slip both your hands under her skirt to pull down her panties. Wanda bucks up her hips, the way you were slow with your hands, tracing down her thighs with gentle fingers, leaving her longing for more. When you’re done talking them off her, you see her literally dripping and glistening.

“Does daddy really make her good girl so wet?” Wanda’s breathing intensifies. Your waft warmly, light against her core, that makes her need more and more of you.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm baby?” You hum against her again, making her almost go feral right there.

“My stockings… I have only one pair of them… I can’t ruin them today, please?”

“I got you baby. Daddy’s not gonna leave a drop at all anyways.” You gently kiss her cunt and then lick up a stripe. Wanda bucks up her hips again, looking for the friction she was aching for. Again, you lick up her slit slowly, teasingly.

“Da-daddy please.” Wanda says clutching your hair with desperation. “I promise you I will be a- Ah!” You start eating her out, with a pace she could barely keep up with. Wanda’s chest was heaving as she panted, her legs slowly wrapping themselves around you, as you sat on the floor.

Eventually, you stimulate her clit, making her moan too loud. You were glad that the door was soundproof and whatever sound that escaped wouldn’t be heard by people travelling kilometres above the ground. She was struggling to speak, but Wanda managed to say, “Daddy, I’m going to come. Can I, please?”

On your lack of response, she pulled your head in closer into her. You were too busy absolutely devouring Wanda. Not many moments later, she starts coming, and you keep up your promise by licking it all up. Her stockings were perfectly fine.

Gently, you stand on your knees and pull her face down in a deepened kiss, giving her a taste of her sweetness. She moaned against your lips and pulled you in impossibly closer. You both pulled away only when air became a necessity, but stayed in your little proximity. You help her get cleaned up and make her look presentable again. Her entire makeup was messed up because of the kissing and sweating.

The moment was tender, with her looking directly in your eyes as you held her chin and applied her lipstick. Her face was perilously close to yours. “Daddy, may I?” she asks for your consent, before connecting your lips again, but less intensely this time. She laughs and says, “Now I fixed your lipstick too.”

“I think we should mess it up quite often.”

“We were the ones who messed it up in the first place.”

“I know exactly what I said.”

Suddenly, you get the signal for another round of water and drinks around the passengers’ compartment and you have to go out reluctantly. “Y/N, do I look okay?”

“Well in my humble opinion, mademoiselle, you are fucking slaying.”

She burst out laughing at your little humour but didn’t realise you meant it. “Stop joking, and tell me if I look presentable enough or not!”

“Yeah, yeah you do Wanda.”

— ✦ —

Outside, you are met with Carol once again. You decided you’d better not hurt Wanda’s feelings this time, even though you didn’t know what terms you both were on. Carol’s seat was on the aisle side, so it was quite easy for her to flirt with you.

She conveniently dropped her phone the moment you passed next to her. “I’ll get it for you, ma’am.” you said, but she held you back, and bent down to her side, lightly brushing your thighs while doing so. Her touch gave you goosebumps all over the place, but you kept moving forward, knowing completely well that Wanda had been staring at the interaction with rage.

Back inside your compartment, Wanda seemed pissed off. “What are you even being so furious about? I am not even a guilty party here!” You plead, not knowing what else you could say.

She parted her lips slightly, but chose not to say whatever she had at the tip of her tongue. “Actually, let’s just go to the crew rest compartment. It’s time to switch shifts anyways.”

Before you two could leave, you heard a knock on the door between the compartments. You opened it to see Carol standing there, leaning on one of her arms. “Do you need something, ma’am?” Wanda asks on your behalf, because you seemed too troubled yourself. “Maybe just a moment with your colleague?” she replies, eyes still locked on you.

You add on to the conversation, “I’m afraid the passengers are not permitted in here, only the crew members.” But Carol pulls out something from her pocket; a pilot licence, to your surprise. “Am I still allowed?”

Placing her licence back in its place, she steps towards you. You side-eye Wanda as a signal to not leave you alone, but she walked right away. “Hey, I know you have been returning all my advances, so why are you denying it?” Her hands land on your waist, pushing you against the closed door. “Carol… Please don’t.”

“I love it when you say my name. Say it again, will you?”

“What will it take for you to leave me alone?” You throw her hands off you in rage. “Just a kiss, please?”

“I can’t do that I’m- Look, you just can’t be serious.”

“Yeah, I am serious.”

“I cannot believe I am doing this. Just don’t expect anything more from me, okay?” You feel guilty but you lean forward to give a small peck on the corner of her lips. You don’t allow her time to say anything, and motion for her to leave. Wanda was rightfully pissed off when you told her what happened, but you didn’t leave out anything, because you wanted her to trust you.

“You cannot be for real Y/N! You really consented to kissing her? That’s really not justified, especially when we just- Gosh.”

“Wanda, she could’ve done worse to me! It was forced consent! I didn’t know how else I could escape, I know what I did was wrong but I didn’t even have a choice. Besides, I don’t even know if you like me or we just fucked for a while.”

“So you really can’t see what I’ve been trying to say? Did you even pay attention to me at all or just had sex with the first woman you could find? Fuck off, Y/N.”

— ✦ —

The other two flight attendants who would be covering the second shift were Natasha Romanoff and Maria Hill. You had met Maria before, but only ever heard of the former. Wanda didn’t wait for you to gather your things and walked right away, leaving you alone. She was being way too unreasonable for someone who hasn’t even declared who you are to her. She didn’t understand that you needed a verbal confirmation, not the little signals.

Entering the compartment, you were met with the most outrageous sight — Wanda was quite a bit too comfortable with some other redhead who you assumed to be Natasha. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding her chin. Wanda’s hands were in Natasha’s hair, pulling her closer and closer towards her. Just the moment you clear your throat to signify your presence, they both turn their heads to see you and Wanda tells Natasha, “And that is Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, meet Natasha Romanoff.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Natasha says courteously. You return her politeness and then add, “I presume you two already know each other?”

Wanda answers the question with an air of smugness, “Kinda well enough.” You take your stuff with you to go and rest in your respective area. Wanda takes the one right across you. Though there is a curtain segregating the areas, you felt like she was watching you through the opaqueness.

“Y/N, can we talk?” She approaches you, funnily enough.

“Oh I’m surprised to hear that. How about, let’s say, no?”

“I want to clear this out. I don’t want to play this game of jealousy with you. I’m sorry, I guess I was a little affected, but it wasn’t your fault.”

“I don’t know Wanda. Do you want this to last for a while or just a one time thing? I need an answer.”

“Definitely not a one time thing. Can this be… a little bit more? I think I’ve had a liking for you ever since the academy.” She begins to speak timidly, just like she was during the training years. “I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

You give her space to lay down next to you, and gradually begin hovering over her. “For that, you need to let daddy punish you for what you did. If you’ll be a good girl this time, daddy will reward her princess.” Your fingers trace her facial features, till you put two of them in her mouth, gesturing to her to suck on them. Shoving them deep down her throat, you praise her by saying, “What a perfect baby you are. But you have been very slutty today. Daddy needs to take care of that, doesn’t she?” You shove your fingers down deeper, and pull them out immediately. A strand of her saliva dangling over them.

You unbutton her skirt, and take off her stockings, being careful to keep them safely folded in the corner. Although Wanda knew you were being mindful of her wishes, she wanted to feel you inside of her desperately.

Her panties were really damp, and she couldn’t resist but rub her thighs against each other. The moment you saw her doing so, you held her legs apart. “Uh huh, no baby. What did I tell you about being good?”

“But daddy, please. Your princess needs you.”

“Are you going to be good and be patient or are you going to keep arguing and not get touched at all?” Her silence gave you a perfect response. You bend down to kiss her and completely captivate her under you.

Agonisingly, you pull down her panties, till her bottom was completely bare and there for you to wreck. The next moment, her heated, dripping cunt was met with a stinging slap. Wanda lets out a wail and her posture stiffens. “Sorry princess, but daddy needs to make sure you’re a whore for her and her only.” You add with pretentious innocence, followed by another slap.

Almost tearfully, Wanda requests you, “Daddy I swear I will behave, please touch me. I’m your whore, and yours only.” Her response was sufficiently satisfactory for you.

So you put in two of your digits in her heat, your shirt already a mess. Wanda clutches her hands tight on the bedsheet as you fuck her intensely, hitting all the deep spots inside of her.

She bites her bottom lip to avoid screaming, but you tell her, “I wanna hear you baby, tell everybody how you’re a slut for daddy.” Little by little, the volume of her moans increased. She was panting heavily, her diaphragm contracting and expanding hastily. And when the walls of her cunt were clenching around your fingers, you knew she was very close to her orgasm.

“Daddy pl-please, can I come?” Her ginger hair was spread beautifully on the bed, and a few strands on her face. You could almost see the brunette Wanda you had once known — the one you often encountered during breaks, the one your heart had remembered for so long, the one right below you.

“Hold back princess, you look so beautiful like this. Come when daddy asks you to. You don’t know for how long I’ve been dying to get you under me like this.” Her breathing is laboured, even more than before. You begin sucking on her neck, biting harshly to leave marks all over. After a few moments, you realise she wouldn’t be able to hold it in any longer, so you ask her to make a mess over your fingers.

You help Wanda ride through her climax, little beads of sweat running down her body and yours. She looked stunning, with her little smile and eye contact with you. You withdraw your fingers and put them in her mouth again. “Suck ‘em clean, princess.” The feeling of her tongue around your fingers was incredibly erotic, you looked at her fondly.

“You’ve been such a good girl for daddy. You think you can give her another one, baby?” The question left Wanda struck. She hadn’t imagined you’d not let the ego consume you, considering her elaborate past with emotionally unavailable, egoistic partners. She looked at you with no calculable expressions. “Wanda, are you okay? Can you hear me? Do you need water?” you try snapping her back to reality, suddenly worried if it was all too much for her.

Her eyelashes flutter and she groans, arching her back. She whispers, “Make me your fucktoy daddy.” The immediate wetness pooling in your underwear was unmatched.

After multiple rounds of orgasms, she was almost fatigued, ready to be asleep. With her eyelids drooling, she says, “Can I please return the favour, daddy?” You smile at her innocence. “It’s okay baby, you are tired right now and need to rest. Besides, you did so well. I’ll use my strap on you as soon as we reach inside the airport and get our luggage, okay? You want daddy’s cock do you not?” She hums in response, “Mhmm.” Teasingly, you softly press her extremely sensitive clit with your thumb, making her moan and twitch completely. You giggle at her and kiss her forehead. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.”

You relax your back as you lay down next to her. Right when you were about to doze off, Wanda tilts towards you and says, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yes Wanda?”

“I’m sorry for everything that happened earlier. I guess I have been in many relationships that have put these scars on me. But I promise I’ll work on my trust and jealousy issues.” Her hands comb through your hair, softly massaging your head. “I’m sorry too, Wanda. I’m glad that you’re trying to heal yourself and work on everything. But mostly, thank you for choosing to open up to me.”

She slips a hand inside your shirt, cups your breast, and both of you fell asleep for the rest of the flight.

— ✦ —

[Extra Scene]

Maria returns to the crew resting compartment to collect a sheet of paper she had forgotten about, followed by Natasha behind her. Natasha holds her by the waist and begins planting soft kisses on her neck, and under the earlobes. Maria almost tumbled into the area across the passage, where Wanda was supposed to rest.

But then they both notice Wanda’s skirt thrown onto the passage, and your bare feet peeping out the curtain. It was evident that you and Wanda were sleeping together.

“Guess we’re all simply gay.” Maria shrugs before making out with the Russian again.

[mercurygray]

I know you said you were feeling your MotA girls, but maybe #28 turn the page for Molly and Rosie, please. Only if you're feeling it. Thank you!

The last time he'd been here, he'd been bombing the place.

Nuremberg certainly looked different from the ground, though the sight of so many crumbling houses and rubble strewn streets wasn't enough to change how Rosie felt about anything he'd done for the last three years. War was war and war was hell, and that was all there was to say about that. They were at the end of it now, and they would move forward.

The address he'd been sent to find was a still-standing warehouse - something of a marvel in this city filled with ruins. A soldier outside nodded in greeting, and he instinctively opened his wallet to show his pass, the official ID card they'd given him for the Palace of Justice.

"I'm looking for Sergeant Mahoney. I was told I'd be able to get a tour."

The soldier nodded him inside, and in he went, facing down huge racks of crates that seemed to go on for miles.

A woman was standing next to a desk, clipboard in hand. She was wearing a very beat-up field jacket and what looked to be jump trousers, her pockets baggy with extra equipment. Rosie suddenly wished he'd brought his bomber jacket, and not the wool overcoat that made him look like - well, a lawyer. (At least he'd left the briefcase back at the hotel.)

"Are you Sergeant Mahoney?"

She looked up from the clipboard. "I was told I might expect a Major Rosenthal this morning. Are you him?"

Rosie wished again for the jacket. "It's just Mister, actually, Sergeant. I officially got out of the army a few months ago."

What she thought about that he really couldn't tell - she was studying him with a long and patient look. "They told me you were a pilot - a rather good one."

Rosie tried to bite back a smile about what counted as 'rather good' after 52 combat missions and a list of awards so long even he couldn't remember what they all were. "It has been said."

That was what made her smile. "Most pilots wouldn't let you forget that."

He shrugged and smiled. "I'm not most pilots, Sergeant."

She nodded. "Well, Major. What would you like to see? I have a wide variety of Europe's finest all at your disposal. What's your fancy? Landscapes? Pastorals? Portraits? Sculpture? A favorite artist I can find for you?"

It sounded overwhelming, less like a museum and more like the private tour he wasn't sure he wanted. He couldn't say, exactly, what had brought him here, but it wasn't that - the mindless acquisition. "I didn't come to see anything in particular. Just mentioned I wanted to get out of the office for a bit and they sent me here. Show me ...show me your favorite, Sergeant."

She looked at him for a moment before giving half a smile. "All right."

"So how does a museum curator find herself in Europe?" He asked, trying to be collegial as she walked him down a long aisle, boots echoing in the half-dark.

"Not a curator," she corrected. "I'm an archeologist. I had a brother at Pearl. Joined the WAC after…you know." She turned to look at him, hardly breaking a long stride. "How does a lawyer get into the business of flying airplanes?"

"He decides he doesn't like bullies. How does an archeologist decide she wants to jump out of them?" He pointed to the patch on her jacket, the Airborne patch she still hadn't removed from her shoulder. "Screaming Eagles is a paratrooper outfit, isn't it?"

Another smile - a real one, this time. "She decides she doesn't like bullies either. And the pay's pretty good. After we got all the way to Germany they decided they could use someone like me and I stayed on here." She checked the number on the end of a shelf, counted in a few boxes, and removed a frame from the shelf, pulling it down and setting it onto the floor. "Well. Here we are, Major. This is my favorite."

The painting in question was a portrait, done in a plain, workaday style - a simple head-up view of a woman with a reddish cast to her hair, wearing a black dress and a string of pearls. The pearls gleamed from the canvas, easily the most noticeable thing about the piece. Rosie wasn't much of an art critic but nothing about this was ringing any bells. "Anyone I should know?

"Nope. Artist is unknown," Mahoney said with a vague smile. "I don't know what her name is, either. I've been calling her Ruth, after a friend of mine. We've got all sorts in this warehouse - Rembrandts and silver that belonged to the Rothschilds. And we have a hell of a lot of this - bits of people's lives that they'll never get back. She's not important on her own - but she's...she's someone's wife, or sister, or aunt. She's important to someone. There's a note on the back about the framer - that'll give me a town to start in. Maybe I can get her home." She gave a long hard look at the painting, her gaze thoughtful. "I spent…eighteen months taking away lives, and now I get to give them back."

And isn't that why I'm here, too, he thought silently. A warehouse full of treasures, and she shows me this. Most curators wouldn't let you forget what they've got.

But she's not a curator. "Sergeant, are you free this evening?" He asked suddenly. She looked up. "I'd like to take you to dinner, if I may."

She let out a surprised laugh. "I'm not sure that would be regulation, sir. Sergeants can't be seen out to dinner with Majors."

"We could start with you dropping the Major and calling me Rosie."

Another smile - wider this time, like she was turning a page on something, letting it come into full view. "Oh, so you're that Rosenthal." The way she said it made him smile - she'd known the whole time, and was just stringing him along to test him. The desire for dinner increased.

"I did say I wasn't like the other pilots," he offered with a shrug. "Should we say...six o'clock? I promise I'll do a better job of blending in."

'Not too good a job," she said with a smile that charmed him entirely. "I'm not sure I can be seen out with a pilot, either."

-

Molly Mahoney joins us from The Darkening Sky where she is a paratrooper, an academic, a memoirist, and somehow usually always in the middle of an argument about ethics.

[stinkypardonpete]

RE4!LEON S. KENNEDY X MALE READER PART:2

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{A/N: This fanfic is a bit sloppy and not really detailed as my first one and I’m sorry for that! But this is part two of my first fanfic! REMEMBER everything in this fanfic is made up and not real and did not happen in the actual Resident Evil 4 game.}

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~I’m Worried About You, You know..?~

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plot: You and Leon on a mission together to rescue baby eagle(Aka Ashley). While killing some infected you get a big scratch on your leg. You try to ignore it and hide it so Leon doesn’t see because you don’t want to bother him more. When he finds out about your injury he tells you his real feelings for you.

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Leon and I walked slowly and quietly around the houses of the now infected village. Leon still hasn’t talked to me that wasn’t about the mission, I wished that we still talked even if he hated me. There were two old infected women who’s faces was wrapped in bandages, Leon put his arm in front of you and signaled for you to hide behind a wooden crate.

The infected ladies let out snarls and hisses but didn’t hear me or Leon. “Let’s head out that way, there’s not as many infected there.”, I inquired to Leon. The path we were planning on taking would pass the center of the village, where most of the infected were. Leon’s eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes narrowed at the path I was pointing at. A second later he huffed, “Yeah, sure.” He answered bluntly.

The path was covered in foot marks from who I assume were the infected. Reddish-brown leaves coated some parts of the dark brown mud. The path was peaceful until an infected man shuffled right in front of us. It scared me and Leon until the man started limping towards us. Leon acting fast, trudged to the man and slit his throat. The infected’s blood sprayed until the body went limp and fell to the ground. The noise of the body falling attracted many other infected to come our way.

“Well the party certainly came.” Leon sighed as he cocked his gun. Sometimes I forget that Leon is just a man who got his life taken away from, I know he’s still the nice Leon somewhere in him. I reloaded my gun and retighten my utility belt as I got ready to shoot any infected. Suddenly, lots and lots of infected people started hustled to me and Leon. Me and Leon didn’t focus on each other and instead focused on killing all these infected people. After about 10 minutes of on-going fighting, my body started aching and cramping up. I knew if I stopped moving for even a second I would be at the mercy of the infected. “Leon! We need to find a house to rest at! My body is giving up on me!”, I heaved out. My body was sweating like crazy(I like me a sweaty muscled body….LOOKING AT YOU MR. KENNEDY), it felt like more and more infected was coming every second. Leon observed my face, seeing the tears that were slowly starting to form in my (E/C) eyes. Leon quickly scanned the area and saw a house that seemed empty. “Reader! Come here!”, Leon blurted out to me. I look over at Leon who was killing every infected in his way. I start stabbing my way through the infected until I felt a sharp and excruciating pain on my right ankle, I don’t think about it and I run inside of the house.

“Fuck, are you okay?”, I asked Leon, who was leaning against the wall. I’m not gonna lie, he looked hella hot with his sweat making his golden bangs stick to his forehead. The chest compression shirt that complimented his strong muscles(AND HIS BIG ASS MIKERS🥰⁉️⁉️⁉️). He looks so irresistible and attractive at this angle. Wait, what am I thinking? Yes I’ve liked Leon for a while but there’s no way in hell he would like me back, I’m a man… I suddenly remember the giant scratch on my ankle. I pull up my pant sleeve and examine the cut. My finger reaches at the cut and I hiss at the pain the touch gave me. I didn’t carry any medical stuff with me or any herbs so I knew I was screwed. I knew Leon might have some but I didn’t want to bother him any longer since he already hated me.

I hear Leon moving off the wall and I quickly pull my pant leg down to hide the cut but Leon noticed this. “What happened?”, he said aggressively at me. I look up at him and I feel my face warm up a bit. “Ah-nothing! Just rubbing something off.” I answered back. The pain was throbbing like hell. It felt like someone was stabbing me over and over again. Leon narrowed his eyes at me and kneeled in front of me. “Don’t lie to me reader, what happened?” He said sounding a bit more soft. I told him again that it was nothing and not to worry about me. He rolled his eyes and grabbed my arm and dragged me towards the rusty bed and sat me down on it.

Leon pulled the pant leg up and gasp at the giant scar on my ankle. He leans his hand at the cut and grazes over it softly. It hurt a lot. I whimpered at the pain and moved my arm away from his hand. Leon looks up at me and asked how much it hurt, to which I replied with ‘It hurts like crazy’. He grabs his bag and searches for any herbs or bandages. He brings out an alcohol bandages. He pours a bit of alcohol of a cotton ball and looks up at me. “This is gonna hurt..”, he warned me as I nodded sadly back at him. He slowly brings the alcohol-coated ball to the top of my cut and i stuttered the words ‘Fuck’ and ‘stop’ at the burning sensation. Leon muttered an apology as he continued to dab the cotton ball on me.

The silence was loud. The awkwardness between us was too much, I wanted to say something but I kept quiet. Leon groaned and nervously said, “So uh, how have you been lately?”. His question surprised me a bit before I answered back. “Oh it’s been alright..”. I would’ve been better if you actually talked to me. “That’s good” Leon said. I decided that this is the right time to bring up how I have been feeling about him, how he never talks to me, ignores me. I opened my mouth to say my words until I get interrupted.

“I’m sorry…..”. An apology rumbled out of Leon’s mouth. I look down at him as he bandages my cut. He continues, “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you and being rude to you during this mission. I’m really sorry. It’s just been hard, I’ve been trying to…..understand my feelings. I get it if you don’t want to be friends anymore or don’t accept my apology and it’s okay if you don’t.”. A loud pause happens until I answer. “I forgive you Leon, I am mad at you for ignoring me but I forgive you.. but, can you at least tell me why you did ignore me?”. 

Another pause. Fuck, maybe i shouldn’t have said anything or at least reword my sentence Leon raises his head with a surprised but nervous face. His fucking enchanting ass face “It was because, um, I like you…”, Leon stammered, muttering that last part but loud enough for me to hear. Mines and Leon’s faces warm up at the confession. I didn’t want to believe it, was he lying to me? My sweaty hands grip the bedsheets as Leon forces his head down. I take a moment to sink in the new information and look at Leon. My hand reaches out for Leon’s face and cups his warm cheek. “I-I like you too Leon. But I thought you won’t like me because I am a boy.”, I confess. Telling Leon I liked him made me feel happier. Leon puts his hand on top of my hand that was on his cheek. He looks up at me and smiles softly, I smile back at him. “C-can um you know..” I stutter out until Leon leans at my face and kisses me gently. The kiss felt like something out of a dream. Leon gently gripped the back of my head then massaging it. His other on my cheek, his thumb rubbing my eye bags. The kiss is one of those ‘I can’t let go yet’ kisses. Both of us pecking each others lips and then fully kissing each other, pulling back each other for more.

Our little make out session stopped as Leon sits beside me on the bed. I grab his hand and wrap my one around it, like I was protecting it from everything in the world. I looked over at Leon. His now swollen lips was a mixture of red and purple, Sweat on his forehead, half-closed eyes, and his drunken daze. I smiled as I leaned my head on his broad shoulder.

We might be surrounded by infected-snarling monsters but being next to each other made us feel safe.

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{A/N: OMG IM FINALLY DONE! As u can tell I got lazy at the end and it has HELLA cringe. But it’s done now so yup! Imma start on the requested one tomorrow and might finish it :)}

[airi-p4]

Guarded and protected - Chapter 6

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Chapter 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Epilogue

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Summary:

Marinette forces Luka to become the new Guardian of the Miraculous after confessing her mutual feelings to him. Seeing her healthier with her memories erased, Luka decides to keep his distance so she doesn't get involved with the Miraculous again.

Tw: Amnesia, Angst with a happy Ending

AO3

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Chapter 6: Back to you

Luka's bicycle crashed at the bakery's door, and with an unbelievable excuse, he ran up to Marinette's room, not before calling for her to make his intrusion noticed.

He found her weeping. Immediately after the sight, her eyes opened wide when he hurried up, crossing the trapdoor of her room to hug her tightly.

"I love you," he finally confessed, between muffled sobs. "I'm so sorry for hurting you. I've never stopped loving you—I don't think I ever will. Please, don't go away from me. Not again…"

"L-Luka…" her crying silenced her voice. The way her arms were tightening around him was grounding. He had missed her…  so much. And now he's back to her room and—

Her room…? 

He didn't remember her room having such a massive amount of blue around. Or so many photos of him on the walls. Or Kitty Section merchandise all over the place. Or even… was that a doll of his new superhero alter ego?

His attention shifted to a notebook on her table.

Could it be…?

"Marinette, you…"

"What took you so long? You were supposed to come to my side earlier… according to—" she protested, with a mix of joy and frustration. She eyed said notebook on her table for a better comprehension—as the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.

Her diary.

And everything clicked in Luka's mind.

"You planned it," he realized. "Of course you had a plan! You never act without a plan! You're so clever and beautiful and amazing and I—I've been so—So stupid!" His hands moved to cup her cheeks with a soft smile that made her melt. "You didn't need to remember to know. You had your diary."

Her hands moved to cup his face, mirroring him. "The diary did mention I loved your beautiful smile the most, but words don't do it justice at all for what it—you—make me feel." She smiled, still reddish. "I love you, Luka. I didn't need to read the diary or see the photos on the wall to know I do. My heart never forgot. It always finds its way back to you."

He was so delighted he almost forgot to ask for permission to kiss her, but she nodded before leaning in, too. 

"Our first kiss…" she whispered with a shy but dazzling smile on her face.

"Second," he corrected, to her surprise. "The first one is most likely not written in your diary. It probably wasn't in your plans either."

"Oh." Her eyes opened wide for a moment. "Well… there was a foot note… but it was more wishful thinking than anything and—uhm…" 

"You really thought of everything, didn't you?" He noticed the happy curve of her lips when he kissed her again. "You're amazing."

"I have more plans for us…" He gulped in anticipation at her puffy lips closeness. "And for Hawk Moth."

"What?" Luka blinked, pulling apart to see her grin. 

"I've been studying and investigating and I have many ideas to put an end to him. It turns out that perspective helps!"

"I'm not giving you a Miraculous, Marinette. You've had enough of battling akumas," he protested. 

"You too, Luka," she argued. He couldn't deny it. Hawk Moth's persistence and cruelty was no joke. "Besides, it's my fault. I gave you the Snake Miraculous and then… When we dated… I should have told you the truth when you asked…” She saddened.

"I've never blamed you for that, you know it."

"I know, but still… I was hoping for you to come to me earlier so we could face the evil together. But you would avoid me and it made me think that maybe…” She paused to take a deep breath. “Why did it take you so long!?" She pouted, her tiny fist lightly kicking his chest. He chuckled at her cute reaction.

"I'm sorry, Marinette. I thought I was protecting you." Luka showed her a bittersweet smile, his hand sliding over hers first and bringing it up to kiss the palm of her hand tenderly.

"I know… I did the same after all…" she said, shyly. They were on the same page; protecting the one they loved the best they could. "I think it's time we put an end to evil, now. The sooner the better. Together."

"Together… " He softened at the idea. "And then I'll take you to those dates we had to cancel. If you want?"

"Of course I want." She beamed. "Will you play for me again, then?"

"Of course. My heart already is. It always is."

They sealed the deal with a long, loving kiss and joined their foreheads together with a smile, before a second one—and a few more—and finally moving on to listen to her master plan to defeat Paris' biggest villain and bring peace to their city at last.

[halenhusky309]

So, I have to put this thought out before my muse for Gigolas got engulfed by my renewed passion for Transformers (Damn you ROTB).

If you guys still remember the cringe-fail Legolas post by galadrielspeaks from the link above along with a lovely and hilarious art from peapappa, that's great, because I'm tempting to remove the cringe from one scene and add more sadness and angst (Please don't kill me, I was very un-normal about the whole thing).

So the part where Legolas looked at a fallen branch and cried over it, which for many people, is very cringe and funny. And what if he decided to bury that fallen branches, and even leaves? This would have been even more ridiculous and hilarious for both elves, dwarves and everyone else to see Legolas being so silly and sentimental over some branches and leaves. Except for Gimli, the one with a poet's heart, understood Legolas's pain and grievance over those branches and leaves and even Gimli himself began to feel melancholic them, as those fallen leaves and branches reflected his limited time with Legolas.

So, how would this scene happen and how would the act of burying the leaves become "Sad"?

Let imagine that both and Legolas and Gimli were traveling together to visit their homes (either Erebor and Eryn Lasgalen) during Fall season. At one point of their trip, Legolas and Gimli stopped for a break and Leggy, a wandering soul he was, took a stroll into a nearby forest where the all the leaves dressed themselves in brightful red and orange color that glittered under the ray of sun . Leggy was absolutely cheery and enamored at the scenery, as the reddish leaves reminded him of Gimli's fiery hair. Until a strong gust of wind brushed through the trees and caused the leaves/branches to fall down, Legolas immediately their impending doom that both Legolas and Gimli would forever separate by death. Realizing his happiest time with Gimli was too short for his enternal life, he started weeping at the branches/leaves on the ground. Then he started to collect and caress the leaves/branches, then put them in a pouch before finding a place to bury those leaves/branches as his usual ritual whenever he felt sentimental about those leaves/branches. Up to this point, he still didn't understand why he kept doing this and almost everyone found his act of burying leaves ridiculous and childish, but he didn't care as this act comforted him. Still, Legolas hoped that Gimli didn't catch his silly act and laugh at his antic. Unfortunately for Legolas, Gimli had been witnessing the whole thing and Legolas expected Gimli to crack some jokes. Instead, Gimli just stood still and seemed to be in deep thought, and then, he started to pick up the leaves on the ground and gave them to Legolas to put in the pouch. Once they were both collect enough leaves, they found a plot of land to bury the leaves. Once they were done, Legolas was about to ask Gimli why didn't he laugh at his weird act like everyone else, only for Gimli telling him: "While leaves will always return to this land very Spring and turn to red every Fall, these leaves in their final rest will never be the same as the ones have yet to come. Perhaps this silly act of you is simply a way for you to savour your happiest moments and safeguard them from getting tained by time" (I wish I can word this better, oh well, I may rewrite this in another time). Of course, Legolas both burst out laughing and crying at the same time and hugged Gimli tightly, while he was still plagued by the thought of losing Gimli, at least Gimli's words gave him some comforts for the impending doom he will have to face in the future. For every happiest moment all comes to an end like every fallen leaf in their most brightest colors of the Fall. May these moments retain their blitheness under the endurance of time.

(I guess fate had me stumbled on this woeful song (Song of Burial based on the poem of Flower Burial from the novel "Dream of the Red Chamber" by Cao Xueqin, which prompted me to find the lyrics of this song (And make me obsessively listen to it everyday). And this song is the inspiration for this whole mess right here, so you check both the peom and song. Of course this headcanon is nowhere near tragic as the poem and song)

[lovelywingsart]

Nightmare

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

Sorry for long time in between Survival AU stories...!! QuQ I've got two in progress I haven't finished yet, bit this one DID get finished in the meantime; so here, a bit of 'slice-of-life' in the d-.... night of Heisenberg?

...

Oh boy.

//I may put out a few regular timeline stories and all in between the Survival AU just to keep things moving...! I'm trying to finish what I can, when I can. QuQ This one may be a bit 'short', but I also wrote it relatively quickly. The German was given with assistance from a friend of mine, who is also a Cog!~ uwu//

**Remember, check out the Masterlist for more! <3**

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*Warnings?: Nightmare scene- 'betrayal', 'death', horror visuals; panic, small injury, comfort

Summary: Heisenberg doesn't sleep much. When he does, his own 'dreams' are often plagued with nightmares and terrors... And it doesn't get any better when someone else is thrown into the mix.

~~~~~~

He ran.

He ran as fast as his legs could take him, his breaths coming in wheezing gasps as his shoulders heaved and lungs begged for air.

He had to find her... he had to find her and make sure she was safe.

The Lycans had gone awol, invading and tearing up everything they could get their hands on. He tried his best to fend them off, but they were quick to overwhelm them in sheer numbers he had never seen before in all his years. And through it all, she had run. It was unlike her, especially in their own home... A home she proved to be willing to fight to the death to defend. It worried him enough to back down, and so he chased after her to find an escape. He ran through the halls of the familiar area; but it changed as soon as he got down below.

Instead of the glorious monument of a factory, he was met with a long corridor he recognized as small storage for some of the Soldat creations, though there was nothing in the holes they were supposed to be in. He only seemed to pause in shock, looking around with a frantic confusion that only made him dart forward again for a few seconds.

His movements suddenly became slow only a few feet in, and he looked down to find the ground covered in reddish black muck that covered his boots and stuck to his pants with every step he took. But he pressed forward, even as the hall behind him began to darken and swirl, making the air heavy enough for him to struggle to breath moreso than he already was. It wasn't long until the darkness caught up, and it took even less time for it to cover his vision ahead- but he could still see the end of it from a single figure appearing from the small brightness that remained.

It was her... he could see her. He could see her at the end of the containment hallway, like a light in the darkness that started to consume everything behind him, the single golden eye shining like honey in the sun. He felt an instant relief wash over him, feeling as if the weight of the darkness had begun to lift, and he smiled.

He opened his mouth to call to her, but noticed quickly that no sound came out.

His brows knit in confusion- he could swear he FELT the words leave his mouth... and she certainly reacted as if they did, turning to face him fully with her own calm smile; but he heard nothing. Not just himself, but the entirety of the area was deathly silent despite small movements all around him. There was nothing but the deafening silence and the beating of his own heart seeming to make the ground beneath him pulse.

He ran forward to greet her eagerly, however, wishing to escape and run into the light he saw. But he froze mid step mere feet away as small black spots around her neck caught his eye, slowly emerging and growing into thick black mold tendrils. A cold shot of fear made his stomach lurch to bile in his throat, nearly making him double over as jet black feathers began to expand behind her, and the sound of a cold laughter began to echo across what he slowly began to notice were the now not-so-barren walls. He forced himself to look around him as his surroundings changed once again. All around him were red lights- his own goddamn creations- that gave an eerie red glow to the hall that seemed as if it began to expand with more black muck covering the floor. It wasn't until he focused back on his assistant that the black tendrils tightened around her neck, choking the life from her while travelling quickly down her arms and restraining her wrists. Her eye widened, the confused and pained look itself terrifying him enough to reach out.

As he did, however, the ground under him seemed to move, pulling him away as her own mouth opened-

And she screamed.

It was a shrill, high pitched and horrified noise that seemed to pierce through his skull. It was a noise that, he noticed, seemed to turn into a loud whirring the more it went on, only for a spray of blood to hit his face. He looked forward to see a massive familiar drill bit through her chest, the end of it containing what looked like a cadou attached to a still beating heart. He opened his mouth once more, letting out his own silent scream of anguish as the bright honey gold light faded, reaching for her frantically once more.

Even as the whirring still continued.

Even as the drill began to morph into a golden clawed hand.

Even as the hand proceeded to crush the heart and parasite with another cold laughter, as if killing the failure made the laughing being all the more joyful.

He was stopped as she was released of all binding and suddenly pushed to him, the hand disappearing with a flock of crows scattering behind her. He managed to move forward and catch her body, cradling it to his chest instantly as if to shield it from the birds that began clawing and pecking at his neck and shoulders. He could feel the tears streaming down his face as if they were acid as he looked down, only for his body to jerk as a sudden pain and pressure forced itself in his chest. He looked down in shock, his wheezing breaths and blurry vision just barely allowing him to see her own hand pierce between his ribs. Blood ran free from his chest and lips as he coughed, the red liquid staining her shirt as he looked at her in sheer terror;

Not one, but two eyes stared back at him from her face.

Two pale green, condescending eyes, joined instantly by a bloody, toothy smirk.

He couldn't move as she yanked her arm back, his own heart beating in the palm of her hand, now adorned with those familiar golden claws- golden claws that proceeded to crush the muscle as her own jaws opened, letting out the shrill laughter that echoed through what turned into a dark, dilapidated building with a large chair and a pew.

His own vision wavered as he screamed silently again, his throat feeling as if glass had been scraped throughout, spitting out blood over the now twisted face of the one he knew he held closest.

The one who, as his vision turned red and quickly black, began to sprout black feathers from her own back before yet another flock of crows descended to add to the first, targeting his chest and face as he kneeled, motionless despite his muscles spamming to fight them away.

~~~~~~

Heisenberg woke in the middle a guttural scream, thrashing hard enough to throw himself off the bed while tearing some of the sheets from his grip. Tears streamed down his face as he screamed back into a corner, flailing his arms as of to defend himself from the dream creatures he swore he still saw, though instead nearly destroying what was in the room in the first place. Scrap metal flew wildly as pulses of his power came in uneven bursts, embedding themselves into the walls while rushing past and slicing his skin if they got close.

His screams still persisted even as the door suddenly flew open, Emelia rushing in through the barrage of scraps that flew dangerously close.

"KARL!!!" She yelled, holding her arm up in defense of her face before dropping to her knees next to him to try and grab his face. "KARL, WAKE UP-"

"GEH WEG! WEG VON MIR!!!!" he screamed suddenly, his voice so loud it cracked. "WEG VON MIR, GEH- GEH WEG-"

She let out a surprised yelp as her arms were swatted away with enough force to bruise, but she persisted even as he repeated his words, the German harsh enough to ring in her ears. She forced herself closer, letting her Cadou harden her muscles as she grabbed at his hands.

"KARL, PLEASE!! IT'S ONLY ME!!!" She yelled desperately, trying to make him hear her through his own repetitive screaming.

She managed to grab his face again, nearly forcing him back into the wall.

"KARL! PLEASE-" She yelled again, though her grip eased as his thrashing began to slow.

His screams slowly turned into wailing sobs, his body shaking as he fought for breath through near hyperventilation. She still kept hold on his face, ignoring the scraps that hit her back as she nearly curled over him.

"PLEASE, Karl- Please-" she tried, lowering her voice slightly. "Please... It's only me. I promise it's only me... Please open your eyes, Karl-"

She pressed her hands to his cheeks slightly, dragging her thumbs along the skin to collect the still streaming tears. She felt as the metal lessened its impact against her back as his sobs lessened further, slowly and fearfully cracking open his eyes. His panicked breaths didn't stop as he finally managed to look at her, only to let out a scared yelp and back himself into the corner more. She shook her head and kept her hands at his face, rubbing his jaw and clearing what she could of tears while shushing him gently.

"It's only me..." she repeated again, her voice near pleading, glancing at his hands as they lowered slowly.

His eyes were wide now, staring at her with what she found quickly to be a form of absolute terror she never quite knew possible from him. It sent a cold shot through her system, and it took all she had not to start crying, herself.

"It's alright... It's me..." she shushed quietly, hearing some of the scraps hit the floor as his power lessened further.

One by one the pieces fell, until there was complete silence save for his ragged breathing and the sound of distant machinery.

His body trembled still, even as she held him, watching her face as if to make sure it wouldn't change on him.

She said nothing more, only calming him further with touches to his face and gentle shushes with every whimper he let out. It wasn't long until he could finally move again, his own hand hesitantly moving to touch her arm to make sure she was there.

To make sure she was real.

She looked at his hand for a moment before slowly moving her own, only pausing as he flinched. She moved it to slowly press her fingers against his palm, simply moving them to hold his hand tightly before she looked at him again with as much reassurance she could give.

The look and touch was all he needed, and suddenly the terrified sobs started once more as if he had no control over them.

She instantly brought him forward to his chest as his shoulders heaved, wrapping her arms around him tightly with her fingers through his hair.

"Breathe... Relax and breathe..." she said softly, feeling his arms shakily encircle her waist in a tight hug that would have cracked the ribs of any normal man. She shushed him once more, keeping him close to her chest as if he were a scared child.

"It's alright, Karl... I'm here. You're alright." she said quietly, setting her chin on his head as the touches seemed to calm him down slowly. She closed her eye, taking her own calming breath.

So many times this had happened before. An uncountable amount, if she could have even tried... Almost every time he slept. Over and over she'd run to him, his screams sometimes plaguing her own dreams. So many times it had happened, and so many times it would happen again. And as he lay, curled against her in an exhausted and horrified heap from yet another night terror she would know nothing about, she knew either he would wake fully and go on to work days, if not weeks without sleep, or he would fall back into yet another slumber that would end the same. It was always what happened, but she didn't stop it. She knew she couldn't have. Either option would torture him... And so this small comfort was all she knew.

She shifted to simply hug him, feeling his breaths even out just slightly. She could tell he was awake, even just barely... But given the lack of movement, it was clear this would happen again in no more than a few hours, his arms going somewhat lax around her. But he still gave the occasional whimper, and she ran her fingers along his skin in small patterns and circles to relax him further.

"You'll be alright..." she nearly whispered, feeling him flinch before he slumped back over fully against her. He wouldn't have even made it back to the bed if he tried. She took another breath as she heard a small sniffle, making herself comfortable as well,

"... You're safe..."

[loony-whumptoons]

The Man from the South

This is a series, here is the Masterlist.

Cw: depiction of blood, wounds and abuse, suicidal thoughts, character is spiralling into a deep depression, implied/referenced eating disorder, internalised racism, a joint gets dislocated. Ka as his own warning.

On the bright side, a new character is introduced!

Blood and pain had become constant companions. Hor didn't really remember what it felt like without them. The constant throb and thrum of a wound or bruise kept him awake. The tiled floor sparkled with a deep red colour, constant like the steady growth of his hair flowing down his back like a river of blood staining his neck.

Had Set's hair turned red from all the bloodshed he caused? Or was he born out of Nut's womb with such a bold, disgusting colour like Hor was?

Did his eyes weep so much with each departed soul they became red with anguish, or were they filled with anger since he was held between Geb's arms?

More importantly… What did any of that have to do with Hor?

He wished the Medjay soldier, or Ka would just put him out of his misery. Everything hurt, he couldn't keep his eyes open without seeing black spots dancing around, he felt light headed and, Gods he was starving. He felt filthy, he wished for a minute to wash himself, anything at all. Stretch his legs, even in the scorching sun without any sandales. He wanted out.

Anywhere else would be better. He prayed so hard, put his chin to the ground as best as he could, closed his eyes and prayed for any of the Gods to have mercy on him and end it. Day after day, night after night. He didn't even know how long he's been here. How long he'd stay. He still prayed, calling out to deities who seemed to have abandoned him.

He prayed, but received no answer.

Would they actually kill him?

He wishes they would.

Doesn't he?

The door to the room he was confined in opened, his body tensed and his breath hitched at the sound of footsteps entering the room, bracing itself for the pain. He kept his eyes closed, trying to control his shallow breathing.

The soft pitter patter of feet, careful and slow was… different. Not at all what Hor was used to.

"Seti?"

Hor swallowed down the retort, he was tired of correcting the platoon. He had a name, his name was Hor, his mom named him that because of his blue eyes… like Hor's.

It didn't matter to these soldiers what his name was anyway.

It didn't matter.

He opened his eyes to find a man with dark reddish brown skin darker than even Khenum, the Medjay soldier, with a sharp jawline, small, long nose and high cheekbones with the darkest eyes he'd seen in his life, and dark woolly hair that coiled like gold wire; weighed down with copper bands and neatly combed out of his face.

It wasn't Ka or Khenum.

Matter of fact, Hor had never seen this man before.

"I… I have a name."

"So I've heard. Look, I just came to give you your food…." He trailed off, looking over at Hor's battered body, littered with bruises and dried blood flaking over his pale skin. He squatted down to his eye level and placed the food in front of him. "You poor thing." He whispered.

Hor didn't hear him.

"Are you Kushitic?" Hor asked in a bout of courage, trying to hide his grimace. He didn't like those people.

"No, I'm from Thebes, but I get that a lot." He smiled, revealing a split between his front teeth. "Eat up." He got up and turned on his heel to leave.

"Doesn't it bother you? Me calling you… you know." Hor tried to swallow the lump in his throat..

He stopped and thought about it for a second. "Hmm not really?" He hummed his smile staying in place.

"I'm sorry." Hor whispered

"Hey now, it's just a question, don't sweat it. I just like being outside, that's all." He shrugged, "Maybe if I stay inside my house all day, I'd be paler than you." He wiggled his finger at Hor jokingly.

Hor almost wanted to laugh, but the bruises on his ribs wouldn't let him.

"I'll be back to get your plate." He said before leaving.

Hor stared at the plate, blinked then shifted slightly, and turned away from the food.

He didn't feel like eating anyway. Even if his stomach felt like it was about to collapse and digest itself. He didn't want to eat, no matter how hungry he felt.

He closed his eyes, then went into a dreamless sleep.

→

"Wake up."

Hor was stirred awake by a sandal poking his face. He opened his blue eyes, and met another set of blue.

Ka was back and Hor's body suddenly felt heavier. More lethargic.

He tried to get up but Gods he was just so tired, he wanted to sleep.

He just wanted to close his eyes and never open them again.

"I got something we can play with today." Ka smiled, crouching down until his hand reached Hor's face. His hair was long enough to get tucked behind his ear comfortably now. If he tried hard enough, he could probably tie it up too. Ka tugged at it a little, watching as Hor's head tilted side to side with the movement.

It felt like his brain was being knocked about in his head, the dark spots dancing in his vision only got worse and worse.

Ka's grip on his hair certainly didn't help.

If only Hor had access to his hands. Ka's hands were terrifying and unpredictable; unbelievably gentle and feather light one second, then brutal and cruel the next.

Hor was at the mercy of those hands without access to his own to at least attempt to defend against them.

"But first, why didn't you eat?" Ka asked, his smile staying on his face.

Hor couldn't bring himself to answer.

What would he even say? He couldn't say he wasn't hungry, because Ra only knew how much he was starving, but… well it's not like it mattered anyway right? Hor didn't want to eat, and that was the end of it.

"Well, Seti? Why didn't you eat? Do you have any idea how hard the chef worked to cook you this?" Ka patted his cheek firmly, not quite a slap, but not an affectionate pat either.

It was to prove a point.

"After he volunteered to come here himself and everything." Ka's smile fell into a mocking pout. His hand moved from his cheek, down his neck, and to his shoulder, gripping the joint firmly. "Poor Meryre, doesn't know that people like you don't appreciate anything." He pressed harshly on his shoulder.

Hor's eyes widened at the sudden unwelcome pressure before a loud pop echoed into the otherwise empty room.

Hor's scream was blood curdling, making the hairs on Ka's neck stand up as his smile stretched from ear to ear.

Ka shoved some food into Hor's open mouth, watching in satisfaction as he choked on it and tried to fight him off.

Ka hummed sweetly, before pressing his fingers into the already swelling joint, watching as the redhead squirmed in pain, trying to get away from the blond who still held his shoulder in a vice grip.

"Oh for Ra's sake stop struggling." He pushed him against the wall.

Hor's head hit the wall so hard that his vision went black immediately.

Then he was out cold.

Ka frowned, then looked at the streak of blood dripping down his forehead. It blended quite nicely with his hair. Ka pushed Hor's hair out of his face. Ka huffed, and took his hand away from his shoulder and put it on the nape of Hor's neck. He laid him down gingerly and gently, a stark contrast to how he was treating him only moments ago.

"Really, Ka?" Meryre asked from the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest, looking at the blonde with distaste.

"What? I didn't even get to do anything yet." Ka shrugged, adjusting Hor's head.

"Oh for Iset's sake, the poor man's been here for months, don’t you think if there was something connecting him to Set he-"

"This wasn't about Set, Meryre. Not this time."

"So other times will be?" Meryre stood up straight, letting his arms fall beside him.

"Nobody calls you a Kushite and gets away with it." Ka shrugged, and walked out of the room.

"That's what this is about? Really?" Meryre scoffed, following Ka hot on his heel.

"Yes."

"He didn't call me a- it was just a question, Ka, he didn't mean anything by it." Meryre's voice had an exasperated lilt to it. He pulled on Ka's hair to stop him in his tracks.

The blonde turned to look at the cook, with a glare.

"Ka, he's a craftsman, we… Oh Gods, what have you done? What if he can't get back to-"

"Meryre… do you honestly think he's getting out of here alive?" Ka asked him, his eyes wide in surprise and disbelief.

"What?!"

—>

Aha I'm back!

Tagging: @sapphirechao , @untetheredsymphony

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to/removed from the taglist and don't forget to tell me what you think!

Reminder:

Medjay are a nomadic tribe from Nubia, later used as a term for the police force. Mainly found in Thebes (modern day Luxor.)

Iset: Isis

Kushitic/Kushite: Of Kush, modern day Sudan. They were enemies of Ancient Egypt with some instances of peace trade and cultural exchange recorded in history.

[cruelprincae]

' happy birthday. i didn't really know what you like, so.... ' her shrug betrays her slight self-consciousness as she holds out a poorly-wrapped gift, something she clearly prepared herself. inside the box is a swiss army knife, similar to the one she keeps in her own pocket at all times. <3

Cardan's birthday wishes !

Manicured digits take hold of the messily wrapped gift, the box intricating enough to have the Prince tilt his head to the side in evident curiosity to know what is inside. One pointed canine gently bites down upon the soft flesh of the inside of his cheek while his hands work to undo the wrapping in the best way they can ― that is, without tearing it so he can save it for he always keeps the gifts he is given ― and once it is removed to reveal the small cardboard box within, Cardan opens it eagerly to display the present lying within. Plumb lips part, ready to ask the redhead what was the use of the long-sized hardware, consisting of enough metal to prickle the inside of his palm where it lays like the graze of small pins, but then he remembers having seen Max operate on a similar one on the daily. It is like a sword, but smaller and with more uses, Cardan recalls thinking after she spent thirty minutes too long explaining what the small sword was and if carrying it around on mortal grounds was approved. It is not, but no one has to know, was the answer to the latter.

❛ That is cool, ❜ Cardan admits, the mortal slang foreign still upon his tongue. His grin widens upon his sharp features as he places the box aside and picks up the swiss knife, rotating the long blade out of hiding and attempting to give it a roll, just like he has seen his friend do time after time ― and yet, his own only resulting in the sharp, metal end of the blade chiming forward and grazing against his chin which has the Fae hissing in evident pain. Perhaps he still needs practice on that. A droplet of reddish blood on the grassy ground only results in a golden bud slowly blooming away between his feet, but he does not notice for his attention rests undividedly upon the miniature swordship in awe. And yet, Cardan cannot help looking down at the redhead, with his brows drawn into a small frown. Surely, she must not want it back, must she ? ❛ Is it mine to keep ? ❜

[yuichi-ro]

Hear me out… succubus! Reader corrupting the ever loving hell out of sweet Yuuta. He’s such an obedient dear, begging your to sit on his face as your tail tugs and rubs against his precum leaking cock. His whimpers as your tail edges him creating lovely vibrations against your clit. He’s such a pretty sight when you both come. Face flushed, your juices on his lips and chin, blue eyes in a daze and his abdomen covered by his own cum. ❤️

my favorite thing about Yuuta...is just making him a whipped little slut 🤤

cw: fem!Reader, succubus!Reader, plus size!Reader, facesitting, suffocation, tail job(?), prostate stimulation, sounding, smut askbox open

"-c-can't- anymore-"

"Ah ah ah~" You shake your head as you tap your hoof against the ground to remind him to stay focused, "You called me here, remember?"

Psychically rhetorical, as Yuuta couldn't utter a single word as you drug your wet puffy slit along his mouth. Using his face to your advantage however you pleased. Since it was the foolish human who thought calling on your valuable time was worth risking his life. Now as you straddled his head between your thighs. Squishing his face between their folds as you rutted your cunt into his tongue. Reminding him that he better go faster if he doesn't want to break the deal.

"Human tongues are so soft and squishy~" Hard as can be, pressing your clit against his tongue even as your soaked folds suffocate him. Forcing Yuuta to gasp between your thrusts on his face, "It's why I love them so much~"

As you sat as much of your weight on his face as you could. Putting the needy human in his place with your juices seeping around his jawline and trailing down his neck. Yuuta unable to do anything but hungrily lap at your bundle of nerves like his life depended on it. You made use of your favorite appendage. Your tail.

With it's slick scaly outside curled around his throbbing cock. Beautiful reddish purple dusting from how hard you kept squeezing him and the blood pooling in his tip. Yuuta gasped and moaned into your cunt every time you tightened your tail around him. But in doing so he'd loose the suction on your clit and earn a very disapproving sigh from you above him.

" 'm never gonna cum if you keep this up. I'll just-" With the bulk of your tail wrapped around his shaft. The pointed tip of your tail already wet with precum. It took hardly any work on your part to press the tip of it in his slit.

Yuuta quickly thrashing and rutting up against your advances. Giggling and enjoying the sight as your tail sunk deeper and deeper into his cock. All while your tail stroked up and down his shaft.

"Wow look how easily it slid in," You chime merrily when the tip of your tail disappeared in his urethra, "I wonder how much more I can fit in there~"

Inch by inch. Far as his human body would take it. You sunk your tail deeper into his cock just like how he desperately wished to do to your cunt. Had he known this was his fate. Perhaps Yuuta would have stopped. Re thought his choice in desperation. Now though as tears welled in his eyes, lips wrapped around your clit as you forced him to gasp for each breath and your tail violated him from the inside out. The man couldn't hold it anymore. An inhuman groan leaving his body just as you received your payment.

Orgasm wracking his body. Yuuta spasming under you as you held onto his face and really rubbed your soaked slit on his gasping mouth. No amount of cum could really leave his body. Plugged by your tail as the rest of your prehensile appendage stroked and urged more cum to bubble up under the plug of your tail. Yuuta choking on his pleasure and sending vibrations against your throbbing clit. Until you had the wonderful burst of pleasure sweep you off your feet and force yourself down even harder on his face. Riding out your own orgasm with his pretty slimy little face until your clit was left buzzing and you were left with a pleasant sigh of relief.

Forgetting for a second that your tail was still pushed deep in his cock. You slowly pulled out your tail. Seeing it streaked with cum and followed with the long slow drooling of thick seed from his cock. Yuuta, utterly limp under you with his arms hanging limp on either side and the most precious fucked out expression. You couldn't help laughed as you removed yourself from his face but only to make yourself snug and comfortable between his cum stained thighs.

Jaw opening past what it should. With a flick of your tongue threatening to curl around his overly sensitive cock. You see a glimmer of fear in his dark eyes and all you can do is snicker, "You think I'm done? You summoned me, I decide when we're done."

[roger-that-cap]

wildest dreams

witch!wanda x reincarnated!reader 

summary: wanda had walked around the earth for centuries with no magic and hardly any soul left after losing her soulmate. she thought that her lover would never return and that the only reunion they would have would be in the afterlife, but a run-in with bucky changes everything after he insists that he met the long gone y/n at a fountain in the park. 

yet another au by me... 

word count: around 6.5k?

imma tag one person bc she gets upset when she isn’t tagged- and idk if anyone else would actually be interested?

@teenwonder

also this picture is not mine, and the dividers are by @firefly-graphics !!

without further ado, it’s almost 6 in the morning but i give you this!!

She held you tight, fingers digging into your skin as she trembled above you. The rose bushes were rustling in the wind next to you both, the sweet smell of the flowers contrasting with the moment. You were halfway gone already, eyes far off but trying to swim back to the surface, wanting to look at her one last time before the inevitable happened. 

  “S…” you tried to say, but she hushed you immediately, tears falling down on your face and mixing with your own. You shook her head at her as hard as you could, begging for her to let you continue. “Say you’ll remember me,” you ground out, fingers tightening around her hand. 

  “What?” Wanda asked, voice already thick with grief as she tried to decide whether or not it was better to keep the knife lodged between your ribs inside of you.

“When I come back-” you cut yourself off by coughing up blood, and Wanda didn’t even wince when it splattered on her cheek. “Back for you, promise that you’ll remember me.” 

 “Darling,” Wanda whispered back, her voice cracking as she bent over and rested her head on your stomach for a moment, hiding her sob. She could feel her magic tingling inside of her; under her skin, in her bones, dancing on her fingertips. “I wish I knew- I wish I just knew how-”

  “Please.” You said, a desperate look in your eyes as you halted her words, already knowing what Wanda wanted. But natural magic was nothing to mess with. She sobbed again with her lips pressed together, no sound escaping her. You squeezed her hand tighter as the sun started on its routine descent, basking the two of you in an orange glow that you would have stopped to admire in any other moment in time. But Wanda would grow to hate that shade of orange with every breath in her. “Please.” It would always remind her of the sound of your begging, voice reaching for something that she couldn’t see. 

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice, or the way that she just knew that you were well within your last moments, because she looked up at you one last time. “Of course I’ll remember you, darling. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you.” There was a wheezing sound that came from your chest as you cracked a bloody smile, and then you gave one last squeeze before you looked away from her, your soul settling in the afterlife. 

  Wanda Maximoff would never forget it. Suddenly, her previously  irrational fear of losing her magic became real, but that feeling didn’t even come close to the one she got when you grew lifeless in her arms. 

Ever since you knew what a normal person was supposed to be like, you had identified that you, in fact, were not the normal person that you were probably supposed to be. Normal people didn’t daydream to the point where it felt like their bodies weren’t in the present anymore. Normal people didn’t have birthmarks under their ribs that aced and burned. Normal people didn’t feel out of touch with their world, like they weren’t even meant to be in the century they were in. Normal people didn’t feel like they were searching for something tirelessly, something just under their noses. And normal people surely didn’t dream of the same set of hands, same pair of eyes, or the same voice over and over again, a new setting every time, but always the same, faceless person. You either drew the same faceless person or rose bushes, and every sketch book you ever had was full of them. 

At first, you were sure that you were going insane. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see a flash of reddish brown hair, or the same set of eyes, or the same pair of pale hands. You kept seeing this person without ever seeing a face for nights at a time before you went to see a therapist, who just ended up telling you that worrying about it was only going to make it worse, whatever it even was. But eventually, you learned to get used to it. 

Acceptance turned into expectancy. You went to sleep knowing that there was going to be a pair of hands accompanied by the same slender fingers as always before you, sometimes intertwined with your own. You knew that there was going to be a set of eyes on you, watching you intently with no ace to go with them. You knew that you would hear whispers of the same voice, speaking so clearly in a language you didn’t even come close to understanding, and soon, you were craving to see and hear those things. And wanting to see them led to something that you never told your therapist; drawings. 

You drew nearly every day under the sky, trying to find different park benches to see the sun rise and set at different angles for inspiration. You loved the sky, moon and stars alike, but there was something special about sunrises and sunsets. Sunrises and sets both meant new beginnings to you, out with the old and in with the new, and each rise and fall filled you with a strange feeling of nostalgia. You were watching the sunset on a park bench by yourself, a sketchbook sitting on your lap as you held an idle pencil, still thinking about the way you wanted to draw the hands. The birthmark between your ribs started to tingle, letting you know that it was about to burn again. That damn birthmark. You dropped the pencil and scratched at it, trying to beat the annoying feeling at its own game. You cursed the mark, but your eyes didn’t leave the sky, and you noticed your heart swelling in your chest, faint despair in the pits of it, churning around like the middle of the deep sea. 

 You shook your head and put your pencil in your hand again, brain not even having to work hard at all to see the features of the faceless person who was in your every dream. 

Even before she ever met you, Wanda didn’t sleep well. She would toss and turn for at least an hour before she finally found some temporary, flimsy form of peace. Her sleep was always light and she hardly ever had dreams, which was customary for a woman like her at the time- an un-blossomed witch. 

It was hard for her to remember the time where she didn’t have magic, but that time certainly existed. It lasted nearly thirty years. She never aged a day past twenty one, time moving past her without a care in the world. She was stuck right there, no magic except for the little bit in her bones that was keeping her young. And then she met you. 

You were the person that kicked her magic into gear. You were her kindred soul, her other half and the power to her magic. Meeting you had flung her right into the world of magic and spells, things that she only watched others do, but even as she was introduced to an entirely different world, she could remember only really wanting you. Her heart and soul called to you far louder and stronger than spells called to her eager mind. When she met you, it all fell into place. It was an easy love, one that was never going to be disputed or questioned, and loved it. She was prepared to move heaven, earth, and the gods for you, if she had to. Your arrival into her life had caused her to finally blossom. 

But now, she had bloomed and flourished and wilted all the same, and she was just waiting to decompose. 

“Have hope,” was all that Bucky, a warlock who had been tortured enough in his own way, would tell her. “Have hope that something good will come to you, and it will.” 

She never had the heart to tell him that good things hardly came to those who waited. He himself was a product of waiting, and it had served him well. Before he met his other half, he was taken by a rival clan and experimented on with spells that were so far past illegal that they made the casual witch shudder. Eventually, he was broken out and the rival clan was defeated, but he returned to them as an empty shell of a man. But then, Steve came, and then the man was nothing but a ball of light. His magic grew to be strong and so did Steve’s, and together they became known as some of the strongest practitioners of magic in the world. 

 But what did Wanda have to hope for when you were gone? What did she have to wake up for and smile at when she knew that she had buried you hundreds of years ago? It wasn’t even about the magic. She couldn’t care less about the way she felt the energy leave her- and it was dramatic- leaving in a singular burst of light the second you left. She only knew that you were gone, and that was the only thing that mattered, and it seemed to be the only thing that she even really felt. 

Well, she did feel one other thing. Exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by the lack of you by her side. And exhaustion was exactly why she assumed that she was hallucinating when she felt a small tug at her heart, in a part of her brain that had been dormant for years and years. She shook her head and tried to take her thoughts away from you and the nagging feeling in her gut. 

“Oh, no…” you exclaimed, voice tapering out into a whine as you watched the ruined paper sink deeper and deeper into the fountain, a fist clenching at your side in disappointment when you realized how many hours were lost, just like that, and then even tighter when you realized that part of you wasn’t even truly upset about the time spent on the ruined art. You were mostly upset that you lost the only vision of the hands that you had during the daytime. 

You were on your knees, sleeves still all the way down as you reached into the water frantically, causing the paper to move even further away. You weren’t even worried about your sketchbook that had fallen open onto the pavement, more focused on the rapidly deteriorating piece of paper. You hardly even noticed the man who knocked into you talking, trying his hardest to make the situation better. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?” 

“I mean,” you breathed out, taking the nearly disintegrated paper from the water and grimacing. When you realized that the man was fumbling to say something from behind you, celery apprehensive over the fact that you were upset, you took a short breath and turned around, giving him a small smile. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and crystal blue eyes that were striking, but you knew that they held thousands of stories by looking just once.  He was holding your sketchbook, and by the way he was gripping it tightly, you could tell that he had flipped through it for a second. “It’s just a drawing. I guess I can make another one.” 

  His eyes widened. You saw his jaw slacken and his neck stretch out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked three times, and his parted lips trembled for a second before he slammed them shut. You cocked a brow at him, your sadness about losing the drawing being replaced by a weak feeling of uneasiness. “Sir?” 

  “Knew it.” His face was clear from any type of emotion as he watched yours, and when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, a grin spread across his face. “I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” You furrowed your brows at him, asking what the hell had just occurred without saying a single word. “I’m sorry, you just looked really familiar.” 

 Just like that, you smiled. You knew that feeling, you felt like you got deja vu far too often to be normal. You hated when people made you feel strange for it, you always had, so you tried your best to ignore it with him. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You extended your dry hand for him to shake it. He stared at it for a moment, and then with an eagerness that made you smile, he shook your hand. 

“‘I’m Bucky.” 

  For a moment, you could have sworn that you had done more tha just seen him before. Could have sworn that you had shaken his hand, met him before, been at the receiving end of his blinding yet somewhat shy smile. It flashed through you warm and bright, and you cleared your throat before pulling your hand away and realizing you had held it for too long. You cleared it again when you saw something flash in his eyes, a weak smile lifting on your lips.

“It’s not her.” 

Wanda was furious. She was insulted more than anything, really, angry that Bucky could even mistake the light of you for someone else. She knew that you would never grace the earth with your presence again, and she was so used to the fact that she was going to have to die before seeing you again. And for one of her closest friends to try to convince her that you were back? 

 “She would have already found me.” And Wanda believed that with her whole heart. You had asked her so long ago that you remember her, like she could ever forget. Your scent was so flowery that whenever she walked past a growing garden that she smelled you, your smile was so bright that she saw it in the way the rays of sun came down on the earth. She heard your laugh in the chirping of the birds every morning, and she saw your playfulness in the running waters of the stream by the cabin. She could never forget you, because everything was traced back to you. And you would never return without finding her. 

“I don’t think she even knows it yet, but she is looking for you.” Bucky insisted, stepping forward and receiving Wanda’s burning glare while Steve stepped to the side and let it happen. “I bumped into her and she dropped her sketchbook. I saw her drawings- she drew your eyes.” 

  Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “What?” 

“She dropped the drawing of hands in the water, but I saw she had drawn eyes that looked just like yours, hair the same shade as yours, even drawn the necklace you used to wear. She draws roses, too. I swear to everything above, it’s her.” 

She could feel herself getting warm, the sort of emotions stirring inside of her that had the potential to turn into a singular weapon. The thought of a rose bush made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not her.” 

“You forget that I knew her, too,” Bucky stated, and Wanda’s desolation was replaced by some ancient feeling of possessiveness. “I could never forget her face, and that was it right there. That was her face, without a shadow of a doubt, And her voice-” 

Wanda’s face curled into a snarl. “Stop talking about her.”  

“Hey, Wanda, take a deep breath,” Steve cut in, ever the mediator, but Bucky was hardheaded. If he thought something needed to happen, he was the one to push for it to happen, and he needed her to see. 

 “She looks the same as she did the day she left.” Wanda let out a choked noise. For a second, all she could picture was her lover dying by the blooming rose bushes in the sunset, ruining two of the most beautiful things in life at once. The third (but first) was you, but not even your horrible death could taint Wanda’s memory of you. You would forever be the brightest and most beautiful thing to grace the earth. “I got her number, we’re meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks away.” 

“Leave her alone.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. When she saw the brunet’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open, she spoke before he could get a word in. “Just stay away from her, Bucky.” 

All she could think about was your death. The way you choked on your own blood. The way you cried and looked up at her, but still managed to smile. And as she was consumed by rage and memories, the only other thought in her mind was that she was yours and you were here, and that she couldn’t save you then. But she was surely going to preserve your memory from Bucky’s mouth. 

  “I know you feel it coming back. You haven’t felt it in so long, but it’s warm, right? It’s powerful. You always were the strongest, and you’re not dormant any longer. Stop lying to yourself and depriving yourself of love, Wanda. You know Y/N-”

  She saw red. Red as red as the fires that burned in the magma underneath the ground, as red as embers in a fire. “You don’t get to say her name.” She saw so much red, so much hot anger that hardly covered her sadness, that she didn’t even see the way that she had her hand out red coming from her palm as she lifted Bucky right off of the wooden floor of their shared home. “You don’t get to talk about her.” There was a warbling noise in her ears, whispers that sounded like her name, getting louder and louder until she finally realized it was Steve trying to get her attention. 

  “Wanda.” 

Instantly, she dropped her arm and watched Bucky fall to the ground, landing in a crouched position. She watched him catch his breath on the ground. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she felt terrible and that she had no idea what happened, what took over her, but she was stopped by the brilliant smile that came onto Bucky’s face. 

  “You used magic.” He said, slowly and steadily, not a hint of hesitance or animosity in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seemed more proud than anything. “You can’t deny this now, Wanda.” 

She was hyperventilating, the pain in her chest intensifying as she tried without any results to get the right amount of air in her lungs. She felt her knees hit the ground before she knew that she did, her hands covering her face as she sobbed into herself. Her heart ached, tugging in so many different directions as her brain fought to rationalize what everything meant. She had used magic,  and that meant that you were back, in one way or another. She was in disbelief. She was in despair. She was in shock. 

“I know you do, I know you do,” It was Steve’s arms around her, and Steve’s voice in her ear, and she realized that she had been saying I miss her, I miss her, over and over again until the words jumbled. “We know you do, Wanda. We miss her too.” 

But he didn’t understand. He hadn’t lost Bucky since he had found him. He hadn’t walked the earth for centuries after losing the only thing that mattered to him as an empty shell of the person he used to be. He would never understand, but that wasn’t his fault. In fact, she prayed that he would never understand. 

“I’m sorry I approached you like that,” Bucky said, crouching down and hugging her just as Steve was, enclosing her into a hugging circle. They were coven, related by magic, and just being around them made her tears subside. “But you know that I would have never said anything like that unless I was one thousand percent sure. I would never do anything to hurt you, Wanda. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I found her.” 

And how could he want anything but the best for her? He knew her just as much as Steve did. Just as much as she probably knew herself. He and Steve were the ones who stormed the coven that took you from her by her side, and they were the ones that helped her send them to their graves. They supported her through thick and thin, through revenge and peace, and mostly, they loved you almost as much as she did. Why would Bucky lie? 

Wanda blinked, staring down at her hands in fear and wonder as her heart beat started to get away from her. Steve’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched from the sudden touch after such a rush of power. 

“I think you should go with him, Wanda.” Her heavy breathing was all that filled the air for a moment. “Just take a look at her from outside so you can leave if he was wrong without anyone knowing, but you should at least try. I think Buck’s right.” 

Wanda’s breaths were still labored. Her hands trembled as she moved hair from her eyes, and her lip quivered before she found the strength to mutter a few words. “Will she- will she remember?” 

“I think she will,�� Steve said softly. “But she’s probably just a human. It may take more than just seeing you for her to remember everything.” 

 Her eyes were wet with tears, and her heart was so big with warmth and need that she was scared that it would burst open at the seams. But she was even more terrified to lose the idea of you. Slowly and shakily, she nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she sealed her own fate. “I’ll go.” She saw Steve give her his fatherly and supportive smile, small yet full. “I’ll see her.” 

You didn’t know how you were gently swindled into giving Bucky your number. You knew that it was nothing but friendly, but he was so charming that you felt like you could never not know him. In fact, it felt like you already did know him. He said something about maybe commissioning an artwork of yours, and of course that excited you. You were going to meet him at a coffee shop, in a public place even though you weren’t the slightest bit afraid of him. But something felt different. 

 It started once you got into your car. You were driving to get to the shop when tingles came down your spine, and bumps raised on your arms, like someone was whispering against your skin. You started to feel warmth come and go in waves, brushing against your mind and then retreating again. You shook off all of the strong feelings as you turned your car off, parked in front of the coffee shop while the music from your speakers filled the silence, soft piano music that was perfect for the weather. 

  It was drizzling, the kind of weather that you liked to call a “lover’s drizzle” because of how often it was seen in romantic scenes. Scenes of confession, of reunion, of desperation between two lovers- more often than not, they had the mild rain to stand in. You turned the music down before shutting your car off and then stepping out, closing the door and locking it immediately before walking briskly to the entrance of the coffee shop with your recent drawings in hand. 

 Bucky wasn’t there when you arrived. In fact, hardly anyone was there besides the few employees, who smiled at you when you entered but otherwise fell back into conversation amongst themselves, which was fine with you. There was one beefy blonde man who was sitting with a laptop and a ball cap on. He glanced up for a moment and then took a double take, blinking hard at you with a star struck look on his face, and then he shot his gaze back down and went back to typing.

You sat down at a table for two, the only type of table that was there besides the long, awkward study tables that they had set up in the center of the room. You would much rather take the intimate setting of a two-seater than to sit in the middle of the shop, so you did just that. You flipped through your work, looking at it closely now that you had the time. He had mentioned something about possible portrait work for a friend of his, so you naturally brought most of the drawings that you had done with hands, arms, eyes, hair, nearly everything that was the closest to your heart. You rested your palm on top of them and watched your fingers trace the slender ones that you had drawn in what felt like by memory at the time, like you were just remembering the way an old friend’s hands used to look. You peeled that one back and looked into the eyes, the strangest and prettiest light green color that made your heart pound every time you looked at it. You took a deep breath in.

  “That’s gorgeous.” You jumped in your seat as the chair in front of you pulled out from under the table, and there was the charming brunet that you had met by the fountain, giving you the same welcoming smile that he first granted you. You smiled back without hesitation, your heart warming at the sight. “You sure can draw.” 

  “I try,” you joked, your grin nearly splitting your face. “Do you drink coffee?” 

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like tea, though.” You gave him a thoughtful look. 

“Are you into herbal healing?” 

You could have sworn that there was some sort of excitement in his eyes, but you weren’t sure enough by the time he opened his mouth again. “Yes, actually! What, does it look like I’m into it?” 

“No,” you answered, and it was true. Bucky was huge. He had the kind of build that intimidated other guys at the gym, the kind that made athletes jealous. He looked like the typical meathead, but he was sweeter than you could have imagined. But he looked nothing like a man who would be into herbal healing. “Just a guess.” 

“Pretty good guess,” he mused, and you grinned back. Your head was in the clouds of some strange deja vu when he asked you if you wanted something, and the entire exchange of whether or not you were going to pay was on the back burner as you sifted through your thoughts. By the time he came back, you noticed that you must have told him that you liked hot chocolate, and that he must have paid. You scolded him before he sat back down, waving you off. It was silent for a few moments as you looked out of the window, the rain still steadily working through the atmosphere. The cup was comfortingly warm. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

  With any other man, you would have immediately told him no, or at least have your guard up. But there was just something deep down, so buried that it was faint, but it was there, that told you that he was nowhere even close to being a threat. “Yes.”

 He nodded, taking a sip of his tea and then putting his cup down gently before giving you an intense look. “Who’s the girl?”  

You frowned. “What girl?” 

He raised a singular brow. “The one you draw.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked twice, and then tilted your head to the side. “I don’t draw just one person,” you said slowly, the lie dragging its way out of your mouth and through your teeth. “They’re different people.” 

“Oh,” he said, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew you were lying to him and to yourself. You sipped your drink and something tugged at you, telling you to look out of the window and into the rain again, just one more time before you spilled your guts about seeing things- and then something caught your eye. A flash of a familiar reddish-brown. You turned your full body to look that way, and once you did, you nearly dropped your cup. 

  There was a woman staring back at you, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that the artist in you wanted to rush to make an unworthy attempt at capturing it. Her lips were parted in pure shock, but you were watching them tremble even from far away. She was getting slightly damp in the rain, but she stood there like it didn’t even matter, just locking eyes with you and sending your heart rate through the roof. When your eyes finally came back to hers after looking at her for what felt like the quickest eternity, you gasped. You knew those eyes. 

  If you weren’t so deep into gazing at the woman stuck behind the glass, you would have noticed the pleased and content look on Bucky’s face, and the look that he gave the big blond sitting with a ball cap on all by himself. You would have noticed the way that the blond man was turning his body towards your table, watching with the same amount of anticipation as Bucky was. You tried to understand why she looked so familiar, why she was scratching the part of your brain that always tried to convince you that you were much older than twenty something- and then it hit you. 

  You had been drawing this woman. And you had been thinking about her ever since you knew how to think. It was just the first time you were ever seeing the full picture. “I-” you muttered, eyes stuck on her and the way she looked like she was about to topple over from emotions. The words got stuck in your own throat as you weakly tried to get your mind to take you back to the conversation. “I- excuse me. I have to- I’ll be back- excuse me.” Your chair made a loud noise as you stood from the table in a haste, pushing the door open and walking towards the woman who was still standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck. 

Before you even knew you were outside and into the rain, you were standing not even four steps away from the woman, who was now looking at you with an incomprehensible look on her face. You couldn’t even feel the rain on you. All you could feel was her gaze and the warmth that was settling in your stomach and chest, and the same intense familiarity that was hitting you when you looked at Bucky. But it was so much stronger. 

“I-” you frowned, taking a step closer and resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “Do I know you? Have we met?” You had to have met. You had seen her in your sleep, in your daydreams, in your sketchbook. And still, you never could have imagined how beautiful she was. 

She was silent. 

“I know this is random and that I just bum rushed you, but, did we go to school together or something?” You were embarrassed. You had never begged someone to remember you before, but this woman was different. She hadn’t said a word to you, and you didn’t even know her name, but you were enraptured. You swore you knew her. You swore you saw her eyes glaze over for a second. 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her voice struck something familiar in your chest, something warm and comforting. It was so familiar, so far back in your memory that it felt like home. Her accent, her inflection, the way she spoke slowly yet deliberately. It was all there in your mind, but you just couldn’t figure out how you knew it so well. “You don’t remember who I am?” 

 That had you closing your mouth. You tilted your head to the side at what could have been a hostile question, but her tone made it sad. Did you forget a high school friend? “Oh, um, I know you from somewhere, but I can’t really-” 

 “Think.” The desperation in her voice made your knees shake. If she were anyone else, you would have told her to go away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want her to go away. But you couldn’t quite place her either, even though your own heart was screaming at you to remember. 

  “I’m sorry,” you said, a hurt expression on your face. You braved yourself to leave, taking a deep breath and giving her a weak smile that embarrassed you even further. “This was weird of me. I’ll just-” 

 She was reaching for you. Time started to run slower as her pale arm extended towards you, long fingers that you had committed to memory and to paper a thousand times outstretched. Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly as you stood in place for a second, body still until you subconsciously leaned forward, your nerves buzzing under your skin. 

  For a second, the only thing you could do was look at the point where her skin touched yours. 

  You had seen magic before. You had seen it in movies and at theme parks and when miracles happened, but nothing ever like when her skin touched yours. You swore that the warmth that your body had been feeling kicked in even stronger, surrounding you in comfort. Her hand was wrapped around your arm, gentle yet begging, firm yet wishing all the same for something you couldn’t quite see yet. You looked up and into her eyes, the eyes you had drawn and seen so many times, and then you saw it. 

   You saw it in more than flashes. They were coming in at the speed of light, but somehow you were able to catch every moment and every feeling that came along. You heard her voice as clear as day, ringing with laughter. You saw the two of you attempting to skip stones. You saw her enchanting your stones behind your back to make you think you had actually done it. You saw her mouth brushing over your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead. You could feel her hands on you, holding you, protecting you, cherishing you all the same. You could remember the way that you felt when you saw her standing in traditional witch’s clothing, being inducted into her coven as a blossomed witch. You saw everything and nothing, and you remembered it all. 

Wanda. 

A strangled sound escaped your body, so feral that it scared you, but you didn’t care. You pulled her forward, your head clashing against her chest. You could feel her shaking, like she wanted nothing more than to hold you just as tightly, but she was hesitating. “Wanda,” you called out, hugging her tighter, and then, like something in the universe stretched too far and then snapped right back into place, she was returning the embrace. 

  “I thought I had lost you forever,” she said, her voice hollow yet so full, so expressive. “I lost you, darling.”��

  The memories were all there, like all it took was a touch, but you were still coping with the knowledge. You had been murdered. Murdered by witch hunters, way back when witches were known and feared. That had to have been hundreds of years ago, you knew it. But still, your focus was on Wanda. It always would be on Wanda, forever and always. Just like hers was on you. 

“You didn’t,” you managed to say, your own voice thick with emotion as you buried your face into her neck, finally feeling the texture of the hair that you tried so hard to get right. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere ever again.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly sobbing in your arms. You had no idea how you weren’t being interrupted in the crowded streets, but when you took a look back inside of the cafe to see the men who you so clearly remembered as Steve and Bucky, you knew it had something to do with them and their fulfilled smiles. “I wasn’t able to save you. I let you die, and I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.” 

  Her words brought you back to the present. “Wanda, no. No, no, no.” You wanted to pull away and look at her face, but the second you started to, she held onto you even tighter. You leaned your head back onto her chest. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way any of us could have known, and no way that you could have saved me. It was beyond us.” 

  “Nothing should have ever been beyond us.” She argued softly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But it was,” you said. “And now it’s behind us. Don’t apologize, Wanda.” You wiggled around and got free enough to look up at her teary face. “I may not have recognized you, but now that I do, I can’t believe that I ever forgot you.”

   “A new life will do that to you.” 

“Is it really a new life if I remember everything?” You said softly, the rain long gone as you stood with each other, bodies nearly molded together with how close you were. 

  She pulled away to look down at you, her eyes and overall expression tense, and then there was a look that you recognized from a long time ago. It was a look of sweet desire. You closed the cap between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers in a way that proved that you were both two lost souls who had wandered their way back to their other halves. 

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” Her lips brushed your again, soft and tender and eager for more touch. “As long as you let me be in it.” 

[jiminisnotavirgin]

A+

Pairing: professor!taehyung | collegestudent!reader

Genre: smut

Description: A one-on-one video call with your hot, college professor takes a surprising turn.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: inappropriate student/teacher relations, mutual masturbation, fingering, clit-stimulation, and innapropriate language.

Note: After much anticipation, I hope this is my return to the writing part of the lovely fanfic world. Here’s a little something mischievous and self-indulgent (clearly!). I started writing this when quarantine and remote-learning first began last year and I returned to it earlier this week. Let me know what you think :) I hope you enjoy A+. Love, Phoenix.

Email after email, document after document, the light from Taehyung’s laptop shines bright blue across his features. The hours go by and the sky grows darker but he remains at his desk, only taking small breaks to lighten the strain on his eyes. His chair creaks as he leans back and glances outside the window. Like most nights lately, only the stars keep him company tonight.

His courses shifted to an online-only remote format due to the need for social distancing. Despite the initial confidence he displayed to his boss and colleagues over the change, Taehyung is more unsure than ever. Frustration sneaks its way into his mind like a viper wrapped around its squirming prey. His life has turned into a turbulent sea of e-mails and complaints from upset students. What’s the best way for him to support his students? How can he assure them that their mental health is more important than any essay or assignment they’ll ever complete?

A sudden knock at the door steals his attention. Jungkook, his roommate and best friend, leans against the doorway with crossed arms. “Professor Kim,” he begins with a smirk. “Do you have a minute to speak?”

“What’s up?” asks Taehyung, ignoring his friend’s use of the name his students address him with.

“Did you see Jimin’s text? He invited us over for drinks at his apartment. Are you coming?”

“Can’t,” answers Taehyung. His computer glows in his peripheral vision. “I have—“

“Emails to write, work to do. I get it, you’re a busy man.” Jungkook shrugs. “I thought I’d ask anyway since it’s Saturday night.”

“Maybe next time.” Guilt floods Taehyung’s chest and makes it difficult to look Jungkook directly in the eye. Not only is he a shitty professor but he’s a shitty friend, too.

Jungkook finally steps inside the room, occasionally tinkering with Taehyung’s things until he reaches his desk. “Whatever. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Jungkook’s already-large doe eyes go wider. “Because all you do is sit at that damn computer all day!”

“I have to teach classes online, what do you expect?”

“It’s not healthy. You barely even leave your room to eat.”

“Who are you, the food police?”

“No, I’m your best friend,” Jungkook answers. “When was the last time you did anything fun? Or normal? You’re twenty-six, Tae, not a hundred and six.”

Taehyung sighs. “I can’t think about any of that right now. Actually, I should get back to my work...”

Jungkook takes the hint and leaves, but not without shooting a glare that makes Taehyung regret his choice of words. He can’t worry about it right now though—not when he has a call planned with you in about two minutes.

He was surprised to see an email from you in his inbox yesterday. You’re one of the students that hasn’t reached out all semester unlike most of the others in his courses. He knows just what kind of student you are: the type who floats through classes quietly but still gets high marks. You’re an older student. You fade into the background by avoiding the attention of your peers but your work stands out, therefore, you do too. He recognizes it because he was that student, too.

Taehyung opens the app for the call, expecting you to pick up after a minute or two but you answer within seconds. “Hello,” he greets you.

You tuck a stand of hair behind your ear and speak but no sound follows the movement of your mouth. He waits but nothing changes.

Taehyung clears his throat. “I think your microphone is off,” he says and types the same words into the chat box at the bottom of his screen.

You squint as you bring your face closer to the monitor. “Can you hear me now?”

He smiles. “Perfect. So, how are you doing? How’s the semester been so far?”

You shrug. “It’s been okay. I’m just trying my best, you know? What about you?”

“Pretty much the same. There’s nothing to do besides read and grade assignments.”

“I wanted to talk to you about the midterm, actually...” your voice fades out and your eyes drift away from the camera. He digs through his memory for what you wrote but his mind comes out empty-handed.

“Let me pull it up on my computer.” He searches through his saved files and documents.

“Oh, you don’t have to do all of that.” You pause for a few seconds. “It’s about my grade.”

“Let’s see... B-plus. Nice work.” When he looks away from your paper, he catches you frowning.

“Could you give me some feedback on it?” you ask.

“I left a few comments on the side,” he answers, eyes still glued to the document. He exits the window and focuses on your face once again. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. You’re a lovely writer.”

“Not good enough if I can only get B-pluses,” you answer with a sigh. Taehyung sits up in his chair, surprised by your shift in tone.

Are you looking for an explanation? A justification for the grades he’s given you? “Most students would be satisfied with a B-plus in an almost graduate level course.”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not your other students.”

His brows twitches. “Oh?”

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an arrogant jerk but I’m not used to getting anything lower than an A on my papers. The fact that I’m about to graduate and can’t hack yours is pretty... frustrating.”

He presses his lips together. “I don’t know what to tell you.” What do you want to hear? Can anything he’ll say wipe that glare off your face? It’s interesting to see you lose your cool after all this time.

You refuse to back down from the challenge. In this impromptu staring contest, your brown eyes penetrate his through the computer screen.

Taehyung decides to give in. Slightly. “One thing I will say,” he continues, “is that I’m particularly tough on my best students. If I gave you an A-plus on every essay you handed in, what would you work up to? There’s no doubt about the strength of your writing.”

Your expression changes immediately. “Oh,” is the only word that leaves your lips. The lines of anger decorating your forehead smooth out as your mouth eases into a relieved smile.

It’s in this moment that Taehyung finds himself looking at you. Truly looking at you.

There’s something about the determination in your face as you plead your case, as though nothing else in the world matters more. Your glossy, heart-shaped lips possess a reddish tint that reminds him of cherries, or rubies. Even through the pixels on the computer screen, you retain the same freshness he remembers from a few months ago, if not more now.

All this time on the computer has gone to your head, he thinks to himself. Perhaps there’s still a chance for him to catch up to Jungkook and the others.

A giggle erupts from your side of the call. “So my papers are good? And here I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“I didn’t mean to make you suffer,” he murmurs and runs a hand through the waves in his raven hair. His eyelids flutter closed as he sinks into his chair and stretches his arms. Finally, a meeting he can consider a success; a meeting where the student leaves the call less frustrated than when it began. He prepares to end the call and log off for the night.

Then he hears it.

It’s faint and quiet and quick but he hears it, as if all sounds in the world were turned off and yours was amplified. The sound echoes in his mind as though you were right there beside him: “If only you knew how you make me suffer.”

This progression of thoughts occurs in a matter of seconds. By the time he’s processed your statement, his eyes have been forced open and any chance of relaxation for the rest of the night disappears into thin air.

“What?” he asks, voice betraying the casualness he wishes to exude.

“Oh, nothing.” You blink innocently, long lashes fluttering like a pair of butterfly wings. “I just care about your opinion, Professor Kim, if you can’t tell.”

“Right...” His eyes trail to the messy display of pens and papers spread out across his desk—anything to avoid your gaze. Its intensity has multiplied a thousandfold and threatens to melt him like a popsicle in the sun. He ignores the surge of anxious heat flowing through his veins.

“I mean,” you continue, lips pursed. “Who doesn’t love hearing a little bit of praise every once in a while, right?”

Your statement hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity. His shirt suddenly squeezes his torso. His pants suffocate his thighs. The room feels like a furnace and dizzying all at once, but the tension in the air keeps him in the moment.

“What are you doing?” he finally asks.

All the blood drains from your face and your limbs freeze. You hold your hands up in the air. “I’m sorry, professor. I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” warns Taehyung. A new fire fuels his gaze. With his thick brows, chiseled face, and beautiful black hair to match, your professor is a flame and you’ve been dying to get burned since you first laid eyes on him.

You pull off your hoodie and toss it onto the ground behind you. With a small tug of your index finger, you adjust the spaghetti straps of your pink tank top, underneath which you wear no bra. Your nipples prick at the thin fabric that stretches with each of your breaths.

“You deserve so much more than a little bit of praise,” he murmurs, erasing any doubts over your advances towards him.

“I do?”

“Mmhmm. Especially since you’ve been such a good girl.”

This man couldn’t possibly be the same one that lectured your class all semester. Something sinful replaces the innocent, awkward mannerisms you’ve grown to know over time. No more does he hesitate with his words or actions. Instead, he leans towards the camera with his shoulders pushed back. You’re greeted by his neck and the tan slope of his chest that hides beneath the loose collar of his button-down. You want nothing more than to rip off his shirt with your bare hands. For now, you can only imagine what lies beneath.

“Good girls deserve rewards,” he says with a swipe of his tongue across his plump bottom lip, snapping you out of your daze.

“What should I do?” you ask and glance at your closed bedroom door. Fortunately, you locked it before the call started. You don’t want any intrusions from your roommate.

“You should wind down and take care of yourself. You’ve been working so hard.” His eyes dart down to your tank top. “Close your eyes and imagine it’s me worshipping your chest.”

Your eyes fall closed as your hands drift to the hem of your top. Your fingertips graze your stomach and stop when your skin begins to slope up into the mounds of your breasts. “What would you do if you were here with me right now?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d make it my mission to kiss every part of you but first, I’d focus on those beautiful breasts of yours. They’d fit in my hands perfectly.”

With your left hand, you grasp one breast and tighten your grip just the slightest bit. The squeeze forces a sigh from your lips and although your eyes are closed, Taehyung struggles to control his own breathing as he watches you begin to unfold. With the other hand, you bring two fingers to your mouth and coat them in saliva only to bring them down to your nipples which harden with each squeeze and stroke.

Taehyung swallows in anticipation. “Just like that. Keep going.”

“Wait, what about you?” you ask, voice raspy and slightly out of breath.

“What about me?”

“I’m not the only one who deserves a reward.”

“Watching you wriggle and writhe in desire is enough for me.”

You cross your arms. “Nope.”

He chuckles. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

“I want you to fuck yourself with your hand and imagine it’s my pussy squeezing the life out of you.”

Your words knock the air out of Taehyung’s lungs but he manages to recover quickly. “You may be a good girl but you’ve got a dirty mouth.”

You smirk. “What are you going to do about it?”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clinks from his end. “Touch yourself right now. Play with your clit and we’ll see if you’ve still got that nasty mouth of yours when you’re begging me to cum.”

You raise your brows. “I fully intend on cumming at least once in your presence tonight, professor, whether I have your permission or not.”

“Call me Taehyung.” He takes a moment to reflect on the current situation versus the dynamic you had only minutes ago. “Why now? Why did you initiate—”

“My grades go above all else. I didn’t want to jeopardize any of that,” you answer. “And I also waited for your sake.”

“My sake? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were doing this to secure your grades,” he muses.

“Nothing boosts my ego like getting an A-plus based solely off my hard work,” you answer. “Fucking my hot professor is for my own personal pleasure.”

You description makes it sound so typical, just another everyday thing like washing the dishes. Are you using him? Deep inside, the thought of you using him arouses him. He wants to be used by you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, suddenly absorbed by you and the way you carefully orchestrated this interaction. How long did you think about this moment? Were you afraid of rejection?

“I know. Everyone likes me but I always want what I can’t have.” You wink. “Life’s more fun that way.”

Fun. “Enough talk. Let me see.”

“Yes, of course,” you stutter, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. You don’t mind his demands or commanding tone. In fact, you invite them.

“Slide back,” he instructs you. “I want to see everything.”

You swallow and obey immediately, rising to pull your chair further away from the camera. You take the chance to slip off your sweatpants which leaves you in nothing but your underwear and tank top. Your underwear isn’t fancy but it’s what’s below that he’s interested in.

You lower yourself onto the seat, not bothering to keep your legs pressed together. You spread your knees slowly, as if your legs were a book with pages waiting to be read.

“Good. Open up more and show me how bad you want it,” he says. The smile in his voice urges you on.

Your hand creeps along the stretchy waistband of your underwear. The material works against you, forcing your wrist against your pelvis and the area you so desperately wish to touch. You have to be patient since you seek to milk this moment for as long as possible.

Your middle finger searches for any sign of dampness and you gasp when you find a small pool already built up at your core. When you look back at the monitor to see what he’d like you to do next, you watch as he adjusts himself into a similar position to yours.

“Your turn. Take off your shirt,” you instruct.

He raises his eyebrows. A mischievous smile dawns on his face. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“So demanding. That’s what got us here in the first place,” he remarks but proceeds to unbutton his shirt.

“I’m not afraid to go out and get what I want.”

“I know, and I admire you for it,” he says. His shirt begins to crinkle as he unbuttons lower and lower until eventually, the front parts to reveal his chest. His abs are soft and his warm honey skin looks smooth. You wonder what it would it taste like.

As he rolls up his sleeves, you observe every movement of his hands. They’re large. One of the first things you noticed about him when he spoke in class and lead discussions. You always wondered what his hands would look like if they were doing something else entirely... Now, your fantasies have come to life.

You force your jaw closed but he’s already caught you staring. “Like what you see?” he asks through his low lids.

“Oh, please. As if you don’t know you’re attractive as hell.”

A low laugh emerges from the man and you smile. If only you could bottle it up and keep it. When he reaches into his pants, you follow along, taking the slick from your finger up to your clit in one smooth stroke. You hum and bite at your lips to contain your reaction.

He shakes his head. “Don’t hide it. You sound beautiful.”

Your other hand starts to wander as you go to work on your clit. From your head to your chest, you seek something to ground you as your soft bud puffs with pleasure. No longer does it hide, tucked away beneath the crevices of your lips. You grind against it using your hand and a slow swivel of your hips from left to right.

“You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you,” coos Taehyung. “Your body was made for this. For pleasure.”

The sight of him gripping the base of his cock is almost enough to send you over. A light glaze of sweat builds on your forehead but you make no effort to wipe it. Taehyung wishes to feel the heat of your body on his. It’s probably better than anything he could ever imagine.

Perhaps now more than ever, he longs for the days before the virus took over and broke everyone apart. He misses those times so much he could cry, especially since he took them for granted. At the same time though, he thinks about the effort those close to him have made to keep in contact. Even old friends he hadn’t spoken to in years called to catch up with him. His students have stuck out the most out of anyone. One or two of them don’t even own laptops but they show up to class on time and bring their A-game. He believes he should take a note or two from them.

As he studies you, the way you squirm in delight, and the way your body responds to the ministrations of your hand, a wave of relief washes over him. If it weren’t for these circumstances, he wouldn’t have had this moment with you.

“Taehyung,” you moan, bringing him back.

The sound of you calling his name shoots heat straight to his cock. With the precum glistening at the top, he grabs his cock and works the tip using his thumb. “Fuck. Look at what you do to me,” he groans at the sensitivity.

“Please,” you take in a breath and continue, “t-tell me more.”

If praise is what you want, praise is what you’ll get. “You’re so hardworking in everything that you do. Look at you now. Touching yourself just for me.”

“Yes, yes.” You moan as your fingers settle into the one position that feels like you’ve struck gold.

“How far inside can those fingers go? I bet you can put them in real deep.”

It’s as though your hands were waiting for his approval. You slip inside your clenching, gaping hole using two fingers. They slide in easily but the initial stretch is foreign since it’s been so long.

Taehyung groans and for the first time tonight, you begin to see him lose control. His cool exterior sinks into the pleasure of his hand—and of you—leaving him a sweaty, desirable mess. His hair sticks to his forehead and his stomach clenches with each stroke of his hand. He moves slowly, trying to match the pace of your hand. You pick up speed and allow your body to move against the rhythm of your hand. Your insides feel warm and soft and slippery. You close your eyes and imagine he’s the one fingering you with those gorgeous hands of his.

The rubber band of pleasure in your stomach begins to stretch. The squelch of your pussy grows louder with each passing second.

Taehyung is well-endowed but never did you imagine his dick would expand so much in length and girth. He could spear your pussy in one fell swoop, destroying your insides and anything else that gets in his way.

“Taehyung, I’m close,” you say with a sigh. You barely have the energy to speak.

“Fuck, me too,” he adds. “I’m almost there. Cum with me.”

His hand travels from base to tip and each part of the journey is smoother than the last. He massages each vein and ripple and moves even faster when he catches a glimpse of the uneven quiver of your thighs. Heat churns in his stomach and all he can do is chase it desperately. He needs it like oxygen, to breathe in the sight of you along with the pleasure of his nether regions.

The rubber band snaps. It strikes you in waves, each crash stronger the last. You let the waves overtake you and succumb to the burst of pleasure spreading through your limbs. You pull out your hand and clench around nothing as the sensitivity forces your legs closed.

Just when you thought things were over, Taehyung makes a request: “Taste it.”

You waste no time in taking your fingers to your mouth, gliding your tongue on the pads of your fingertips, and spreading the salty fluid in your mouth. All you can focus on is the heavenly sight of Taehyung coming. Each breath he lets out comes with a moan. You swear you can feel the vibration of his low voice against your own chest. His hair covers his eyes but you know they’re closed in pleasure. He intakes one sharp breath before it finally takes him over.

He can feel nothing but release. Release of stress. Release of work. Release of anything except you. As white spurts of cum squirt from his dick in a messy stream of strings, all you can think about is the beauty of his body.

“This was fun,” you admit with a smile. “I’m glad my attempt didn’t flop.”

“No, that would’ve been a huge mistake on my part.”

As you look down, your eyelashes brush the top of your cheeks and you bite your lip in anticipation. “I know I’m graduating and all, but we should do this again sometime. If you’re interested.”

He rests his elbows on his desk and brings himself closer to the camera. With his hand holding the side of his face, he takes in the sweet sight of you. “Did you enjoy it that much?”

“Oh yes. In fact, unlike some people, I’d give you an A-plus.”

[korrawrites]

Aedion and Evangeline: Father's Day

requested by anon

words: 1372

fandom: Throne of Glass, post KOA

characters: Aedion Ashryver, Evangeline Ashryver, Lysandra Ashryver

ships: slight Lysaedion

genre: family, comfort

summary: Aedion spends first father's day without Gavriel, feeling sad over the loss of his father, however, Evangeline cheers him up.

Aedion Ashryver was sitting on the bank of a meadow in Caraverre, overlooking the vast scenery ahead of him. Mountains rising behind Orynth, as though protecting it from the cloudless sky, and so many trees and flowers, varying in every color and shade he could think of. He was staring into the distance, mind long lost in the sadness of his thoughts.

A father's day, the first one since Gavriel died. As a child, he never paid any attention to the holiday, a day like any other, no father to celebrate it with. Back before the fall of Orynth, he would spend the occasion with Aelin and Rhoe, his dear uncle taking pity on him and treating him like a son, Aelin was already his sister anyway. He would do everything with them, going horse-riding or visiting the huge libraries. Although nice, it never felt quite right.

After that, however, with spending years on war fronts and Adarlan, Aedion forgot about it altogether, he didn't even have the time nor opportunity to celebrate his birthday, let one a father's day with a father he did not have.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to see Orynth in the vicinity. As Rowan had said, the tales and songs of Gavriel spread, Aedion could almost hear it in the faraway singing of the birds.

The Lion fell before the western gate of Orynth, defending the city and his son.

A single tear slid down his cheek, one he wasn't conscious of until it fell down onto his hand.

He didn't want to feel like this. It wasn't fair, he hated Gavriel for the longest time, and yet he hoped and hoped the lion would come to save him that faithful day of the battle. And he did, nonetheless. He sacrificed himself in the favor of saving everyone else, Aedion hated him a little bit for that as well.

Was he cursed? To lose his father quite literally right after he accepted him as one?

More tears fell, he didn't care to wipe them away until he heard a high-pitched child's voice calling to him; "Aedion?"

He quickly ran his hands over his face, gaze facing at the horizon for a few seconds, composing himself, before turning his head back. "Yes, Evangeline?"

The little girl was dressed in a simple yet beautiful blue dress decorated with flowers, no doubt of Lysandra's choosing. Before Aedion could repeat his question she sat down on the grass beside him, taking one of his much bigger hands in hers. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. Was it possible that she knew what was on his mind? Had Lysandra told her, Lysandra whom Aedion didn't say much to today, but she read him like an open book?

She appeared so innocent, this child that has witnessed and endured so much despite her young age. Aedion thanked all the gods looking over them that she and Lysandra survived the war. Yes, he was tremendously sad for the loss of his father, but losing his daughter... He didn't think he could take it. He supposed it was yet another one of the things he shared with Gavriel.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he mumbled gently patting her shoulder. He didn't realize how long it took him to say that, and that the words were accompanied by tears. Tears Evangeline obviously saw, for she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as a little girl like her could.

Aedion loosed a heavy breath of relief, the great ache in his chest suddenly becoming more bearable due to the hug.

He imagined himself as a child, would Gavriel hold him close like he did Evangeline now? Would he feel safe and protected? Evangeline once told him, during those long days of battle, that she felt the safest with him. The words brought such a sense of duty to him, wishing nothing more than to protect the child before him with his last breath. Is that how Gavriel felt dying to save Aedion and everyone else? He could only guess. He could only hope.

"I've made this for you," Evangeline said after what seemed like a long while, pulling away slightly but still leaning on him. He just now realized that she was holding a paper, he wondered how he could have been so distracted not to have seen it before.

He carefully took the drawing extended to him, tears pricking onto his eyes yet again, this time however, the ones he didn't try to hide. Evangeline had drawn, albeit clearly still a child's work, rather nicely, a few figures standing together.

In the middle of the paper was obviously him, with his shoulder-length golden hair, and turquoise-and-gold eyes that had obviously taken her a while to draw. One of his hands was holding Lysandra's, dressed in her usual green gown and arms full of jewelry. She tried to do one of the complicated haircuts her adoptive mother favored, but in the end settled for a simple let-down hair with one tail behind.

Holding Aedion's other hand was a taller male, with hair much like Aedion's, golden eyes, and a collection of lines adorning his hands and neck like tattoos, ones Evangeline couldn't remember but they bore at least some resemblance. Perhaps she even asked someone; Lysandra, Rowan, Aelin, even Lorcan, about the specifics of the lion's appearance.

Finally, sitting on Aedion's shoulders, with reddish-blond hair and a big smile was Evangeline. One of her hands was on his head, the other waving into the distance, as though greeting the real-life Aedion.

At the top of the paper in blank space, it wrote; "happy father's day".

"D-do you like it?" Evangeline asked shyly.

Aedion took himself a few more moments observing the drawing, noting all the small details. The necklace he had given Lysandra for her birthday a couple of months ago, the pride in Gavriel's eyes, Sword of Orynth hanging at his hip, the similarities between himself and his father...

"I love it, Evangeline." He kissed the top of her head, causing her to giggle. "Such luck I have to have such a talented daughter." He meant it, he had never imagined himself as a father, didn't even think he would live past the age of 25, and yet here he was now, failing to find the words to describe his immense love for the child in front of him.

They hugged again, he didn't want to let go, as though fearing he would lose her. "Happy father's day, Aedion, I love you."

"Love you too," he said automatically, brushing her golden locks with his fingers.

They were still for a few seconds before Evangeline pulled away slightly. "Fleetfoot!" She exclaimed as the dog ran towards them, Lysandra behind her.

"Guess who came to visit?" Lady of Caraverre asked with a smile.

Evangeline quickly kissed Aedion's cheek before she started running away from a dog chasing her in a play. Fleetfoot caught up to her and tackled her to the ground, licking her face all over, causing Evangeline to laugh loudly and cuddle the dog's ears.

"We are so lucky to have her," Lysandra said sitting down next to Aedion where their daughter previously was.

"We really are." Aedion wrapped an arm around her back. "Did you see this?" He asked showing her the drawing.

"Yes! She showed it to me, wanted to be sure you would like it."

"I wouldn't like it more if it were a portrait painted by the best artists of Terrasen," he said proudly admiring the art. "We need to frame it."

Lysandra smiled gently. "Of course, my love. Are you alright?" A tentative question, she had seen the way he was distant this morning and just wandered off later. She didn't blame him, she could never. She did, however, want to know how he was. It pained her seeing him like this.

Aedion looked at Lysandra beside him, then Evangeline playing with Fleetfoot. His girls, his home. "Better than ever."

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Vices: Angel!Geto Suguru x Demon!Fem!Reader

wc: 1.2k

tw: NSFW

1K Follower Event Masterlist

"Make way!"

You're lounging on your throne when you hear the cries of a lower demon pushing through the crowd, hastily bringing his gift.

"My Queen, your gift. It has been plucked from the heavens and brought for your pleasure." The horned man pushes the long-haired, black-eyed figure forward, his legs shivering as he stands before you. He's half-clothed - as all angels are - but for some reason... he has no wings.

"Is this a farce?" you ask, uncoiling from your throne and approaching the chained being. "Where are his wings?" You circle about the shaking angel, searching for evidence of any wings at all. You find the remnants of his broken appendages hanging limply off his back, like stumps of a felled tree.

"They were taken off when he was captured, my queen. It was to prevent his escape." You swipe the inky black strands of hair away from his face and peek at him, watching his black eyes dart to your face.

"Give me his chain." The chain is placed in your hands, and you lead him to your throne. "Kneel." The angel does so, placing his hands on his knees and closing his eyes. Your party continues, with people approaching you to wish you an eternity of life and heathenry. It's not long before the demons devolve into an orgy, and you watch, unamused. What was a birthday without an orgy?

And it seems the angel beside you is not comfortable with the sounds emanating from the crowd in the slightest, keeping his head bowed and eyes shut. His massive fists clench on his knees, trembling as the night wears on.

"Terrified, little angel?" you wonder, and when he doesn't answer you, you yank on the chain, choking him a little. He gives a startled gasp, then looks up at you, tears in his eyes. "You should be. You're a rarity around here, and the others will surely ask to have you as part of our activities soon. Either that or they will sacrifice you." You laugh when his eyes widen, bottom lip trembling as he tries to hold back his sobs. Poor innocent thing, you think. He has no idea what he's gotten into.

_____________________________________________________________

Light returns to your domain in the reddish-beige hues you're familiar with, and you awake to the sounds of the angel singing to himself.

Singing.

He's still attached to the chain you wrapped around the throne the night before, but his fingers are holding onto the links, toying with them carefully. You stand from your position, yawning, then stride over to the angel sultrily.

"Today, you'll have your first experience." His head snaps up, and he whispers,

"Please." The pitiful word hits you like a bag of bricks, and you stare into the panicked eyes of the captive before you. "I repent for whatever I have done to offend you. Please, let me go."

"Not possible," you answer, squatting down low. "Not even if I wanted to."

"But they said you are the queen--"

"This domain does not belong to me. I am merely a caretaker of it. You would have to address the King of Hell, and he is not here." The angel whimpers sadly, his black hair shielding his face as he ducks his head. You want to apologize but you don't know what for, so you withhold it.

"Will you speak to him for me?"

"I cannot make any promises," you admit, and the angel looks down at his feet. "But I can give you some hope. It is not a miserable existence down here. We all have our vices, and I'm sure you'll find yours. Then you will be free to indulge in it as you please."

"But--" The angel cuts himself off, looking skyward. He wishes he could fly. You make note of the observation and consider consulting Sukuna about restoring some of his wings so he could soar around Hell as he saw fit. But you remember that you have to get the angel to find a vice first. That's the only way Sukuna will allow him any privileges.

"I'll help you with your first experience," you promise, hands drifting up the angel's legs. He flinches, scooting against the back of the throne, but you follow him, hands caressing his calves before drifting up to his knees. "Don't worry. I won't hurt you. You'll find this enjoyable, I'm sure."

When you shift the pitiful cloth the angels call clothing aside, you find that your captive is already a little hard. He just needs a little more coaxing. Your hands drift to his cock, and you tug it slowly, eyes looking up to his for permission.

"You say I'm stuck down here."

"Forever."

"And Sukuna won't grant me freedom?"

"Even if you ask, I'm almost certain he will not. And if he does, then you will have to petition Heaven." The concept fully lodges in the angel's mind, and you see him come to the realization that there is no escape.

A bead of pre-cum oozes from his tip, and you hum, waiting on his answer.

"I..." But his hips buck instinctively and you raise a brow. "Do it." Your mouth slides onto his length immediately and he inhales sharply as you suck, his hands twitching on his thighs. You lick the tip of his cock as you come up, then glide your tongue along his length again, kissing it tenderly. His hips want to move off of the ground; you can tell by the way he clenches his fists. But he can't, because he's at an angle that won't support him.

Your hands come off of his dick and you nestle your nose against his happy trail, which makes the little angel beneath you whimper, fingers knotting in your hair.

"Oh, yes, please..."

Please.

You smile to yourself and clench your throat a few times before coming up for air, then descending back down on him. He cries out, whispering some words in a language you don't know and then murmuring,

"I'm going to die, I'm going to die..." You want to tell him that he's not dying, but your mouth is too full to explain what's going to happen next. "M-my queen, you're killing me--!"

The noise that erupts from the angel's mouth is so delightful that you almost miss the sweet taste of cum that accompanies it. After you've sucked your captive dry, you look up at him, smiling widely and licking the excess cum off your lips.

"Did you die?" you ask, and the angel's eyes expand exponentially and then roll back in his head as he slumps against the throne.

_____________________________________________________________

The chains are removed once he awakens, and the angel's hair is brushed back from his face as he is being cleaned and prepared for the evening.

"You look much nicer this way," you comment, leaning on the edge of the bathtub. "What is your given name?"

"Suguru."

"Suguru..." you repeat, touching the warm water with your hand.

"I passed out, didn't I?" The angel looks at you with somber eyes, fully realizing what occurred between the two of you.

"You did. Perhaps that is not your vice."

"It felt good," he admits, looking at his hands. "I want more, but I don't want to pass out again." You touch his cheek and turn his face toward you.

"With some practice, it will become like second nature to you, my pet." You press a kiss to his lips, rising from the side of the tub and letting the attendants do their job as you ready yourself for a night full of pleasure.

[lunaekalenda]

ahyo!!! can i please request a porco x fem!reader fic where the reader has burn scars all over the half of her body and face so she feels insecure because of them. but porco thinks they make her look cool and badass?? hope its okay to ask hehe! best wishes♥♥♥

sure! omg this is actually so sweet!! i hope you like it! <3 sorry if it ended being short :’)

btw if this offends you even a little please tell me and i’ll change it! i don’t have much experience in this type of fics so i really want to make a good work !!

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porco x fem!reader

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Since you started dating him, Porco Galliard hasn’t made a bad comment about your skin.

You’ve been dating some people on the past, all of them had something to say when you went bare-faced or just half naked. They all had their comments.

But, Porco was different.

“Why do you wear makeup, baby?” he asks. He has your base on his hands, looking at it. You take it from his hands.

“Well, you know why...” you whisper. Maybe he is like the rest.

“No, like...” he looks again how you take the little bottle between your hands. “It’s just that you shouldn’t cover it.” he says. “It makes you way more special, even when you are special.” he admits, his eyes looking at you shyly while his cheeks are blushed. You look at him and he looks to the ground, clearing his throat.

“You think so?” you ask. Your voice comes out like a whisper. Porco nods a couple times. “For real?” 

You’ve hated it for so long. You did, and, suddenly, you decided that it’s a part of you that you should love. Nobody thought the same, and that made you think that maybe it isn’t a good idea. But then a blonde man with a playful smile and honest words appeared.

“I think it gives you a mysterious aura.” you let out a little laugh. “Listen, baby. I know it isn’t a sweet memory.” he has lost all the shyness and now he looks at you again, taking your hand and making you sit next to him on the bed. “I know every time you see this scars.” his fingers caress your cheek. “you remember that. But they also mean how strong you are. You’re still here, smiling and making me smile.” he says. “And to be honest, that scars make you the coolest girlfriend out there, like look at you, baby!” he points the mirror on your dresser. You see your face, your body covered with a light dress. 

“I don’t think they are that cool, Pock.” you say quietly. You take your dress up, revealing more scars on the rest of your body. Surprisingly, you feel Porco’s hands covering the scars. The way he caresses them is hypnotizing, his fingers dancing with such a softness on your skin. 

“They definitely are. They are just something curious your body has. Something I like. I like every single thing about you. And this isn’t an exception. You look so beautiful.” he says. You can feel the tenderness in every word, in every touch. “And you look so badass, y/n.” he lets out a little laugh and you do the same. His lips find your scarred cheek. He turns your face a little, making your lips find his. His kisses are something that can make the worst day suddenly better. The way his lips connect with yours as if they were made to be together, like pieces of the same puzzle. Porco parts a little bit after. His lips are plumped and reddish after the kiss. 

“Why badass?” you ask. Porco lets out a little laugh while he puts some hair strands behind your ears. 

“I don’t know, it looks as if you fought a dragon for me.” he says. That was sweet. He always tries to joke with it, to make it easier for you.

It works, surprisingly, You know he only jokes, you know he doesn’t want to hurt you and his jokes are always soft ones, the ones he knows you approve.

He takes you again, making you sit on his lap. He takes your light dress up, revealing your body again. His lips trace the scars.

“Never forget how beautiful you are.” he says, his mouth pressed on your clavicle. “Never.”