#ignore how I haven’t posted in forever

[xxflyingwiththestarsxx]

I want sleep. It’s almost 6 am

[yanaromanov]

fuck me, i’m famous

｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

paring: rockstar!natasha romanoff x reader

summary: when your boyfriend drags you along to a rock concert of a band you barely know, and then ceremoniously dumps you to go out with his friends after, it feels like your night can’t get any worse. thankfully, the guitarist of the band seems to take a particular interest in you and offers you an alternative offer on how to spend your night that seems just too good to refuse.

warning(s): cheating (r has a bf), but he’s a shitty bf, oc male character, band jargon that may or may not be correct, alcohol consumption, copious amounts of flirting, slight mention of crystals, swearing, many pet names, first time with a woman, smut, fingering, thigh riding, masturbation, scissoring, multiple orgasms, hickeys, natasha talking you through things, lots of praise, slight degradation (?), minors dni.

authors note: okay i feel like this is kinda bad and messy but i also spent too much time on it not to post. i’m still getting used to writing smut and haven’t wrote anything like this before so i hope it’s okay 😭😭 the end is also rushed so plz just ignore that :))

wc: 12.2K words

You've seen enough books and movies to know how things are supposed to go. How that perfect moment comes, when the pieces fall into place and you suddenly realize this is what you're meant to do, what you've always meant to do. But you've also lived a life long enough to know it never actually happens. In truth, it's all a bunch of bullshit.

There's never such thing as love at first sight, no moment where the world freezes on everyone except you and music plays in slow motion in the background, your eyes falling on that one person through the crowd that you just know your heart only beats for. In real life, the cards just don't fall like that. There's too many shitty people and grievous circumstances for the true movie dream to ever be lived, forever just a piece of fiction one can only fantasize of.

You know all this, understand it to be true. And yet, one hot Summer night, it feels like it all melts away and that fairy tale veil falls down right in front of your very own eyes.

It's not slow when it happens, not like in the movies. It's fast and loud and hot and sweaty. The music around you blares into your ears, bodies beside you screaming out lyrics you barely know. In the crowded space, you at least try to have a good time, try to mimic your boyfriend's energy as he dances and sings beside you, but you know its all futile. You want to leave. Truly, never wanted to come in the first place, but had done for him, for all his pleas and begs. You'll love it, I promise. Please come, baby, please.

The lights are hurting your eyes, the fog burning at your irises. Everyone is far too close to you, strangers pressing up against your sides from the front row section your boyfriend, Tyler, had demanded you needed. You don't feel it right all the back there. You need to be close to feel it in your bones. You feel a little sick.

And then that's when it happens. Body jostling against the side of the raised stage, ears ringing from being far too close to the speakers, that's when your own movie moment finally crashes into you. It's quick, so quick you don't even take notice till a few seconds after it happens. As your eyes raise to the band playing in front of you, they graze over each of the members. The brunette hugging the microphone center stage; the other behind hammering into a black drum set; the tall blonde whose fingers dance over the fretboard of a blue bass; and then finally, the woman playing an electric guitar stage right the same color as her fiery red hair. When you meet her eye it's like one of those moments back in high school, when you're accidentally caught making eye contact with someone across the class. But this time, unlike any time with your classmates, the redhead doesn't screw her face up, passing you a dirty look. What the fuck are you looking at? Instead, she winks.

Seconds later her gaze is gone, returned to the vibrating audience, and it takes you just about as much time to even acknowledge what had just happened. It seems fake, like a miscommunication in the space of a blink. Surely you must be imagining things, the heat in the room finally getting to you. But no, you're so sure of it. So set on what you've seen. A few moments later, it's like it's confirmed. The redhead's sights turn back on you, looking down into the pit of bodies where you stand. This time she holds, her eyes trained to yours as she continues to pluck the strings of her guitar. A small smirk stretches across painted lips, teeth plunging down into plump flesh. The music doesn't slow like it does in the movies. In fact, it seems almost louder than ever as you hold contact with the redhead's playful gaze. And when she winks again, chin jutting in your direction, you know it's you she's looking at.

You feel a little too seen, and not so much in a good way. You don't feel that special moment you read about in books, the time you are the chosen one across the sea of other bodies, a spark lighting in your heart at the romanticism of it all. It actually only drives one question in to your head; why the fuck is she looking at me?

You duck your eyes away, looking to the floor and the scuffed boots on your feet. There's a half-full cup of water a few inches in front of you. You watch as dancing feet almost collide with it, surely only seconds a way from being spilled. It holds your attention for a long time, so long your boyfriend is grasping at your cheek to check you're alright. You smile the way you always seem to do. Lips painting a picture of 'yes, I'm fine', while your brain screams out in contradicting protest. How much longer till this thing is done? My fucking head hurts.

When the final song does eventually roll around, you're too lost in your own thoughts to even care. The redhead guitarist has made eye contact with you three more times since you'd first noticed. If there was any doubt you had she wasn't seeking you out, it was surely dissipated now. Each time your eyeline had actually raised to the stage in front of you, it was like the woman's eyes were already waiting for you.

Trying to hold back the dizziness from gazing down at the floor, you had tried to remember the redhead's name. In no offence to the band, or their adoring fans lined up behind you, you actually didn't know of them much at all. Sure, you've heard their songs blasted through your boyfriend's speakers, saw their faces on cassettes and cd's dumped around your apartment, but you've never truly been a follower of the band Crimson Coven. You try to rack your brain of the knowledge you have, of every rant your boyfriend has been on that you so casually zone out from. The lead singer's name is Wanda, you know that much. She seems to be his favourite from the amount of things you've heard him rattle on. She's never even taken singing lessons. She's actually European, isn't that sick? Did you know she has a twin brother? You should do your makeup like her, babe.

The redhead has you thrown for a loop though. There are two names swimming in your head, though you're pretty sure the drummer is the one named Maria and Carol doesn't seem to fit the guitarist stood on the right. For the life of you it seems you can't draw the name from your head. It stays that way until the concert is finishing, stood watching the four women walking off stage, screaming out "thank you's" and collecting thrown objects on to the small stage, all the while you notice a certain member's eyes still trained on you. You simply turn away and grab on to Tyler’s hand, letting him guide you out of the dissipating crowd. God, you can't wait to get home.

The line to the bathroom is a slight roadblock in your plan. It's not torturously long by any means, but it still has you stood outside pressing your thighs together as you try desperately to hold in the three cans of beer you'd drank before the gig had began. You're regretting that decision now as the line filters slowly into the venue's singular women's bathroom. Seriously, what the fuck is up with that? If it weren't for the half hour journey you had back to your place, you would have considered just holding it, but if the pain in your stomach were any indication, you weren't going to make it that far.

When it's finally your turn, you all but run into the cubicle. It's quieter in there, a barricade between the groups of people who’ve chosen to stay to socialize in the venue's lounge and bar area. The stall is not only a relief for your full bladder, but also your pounding head. You stay in there longer than what's needed, most likely angering the girls waiting outside, but you just can't help it. It's cool and quiet and a desperate contrast to the overstimulating room you'd just spent the last two hours in. After washing your hands, you take the time to check up on your makeup, licking the tip of your finger to fix the slightly smudged liner of your eyes. All in all, you're pretty intact considering the circumstances. A pleasing picture that will soon be washed away as you head home for a night of constant reiterations of the concert you'd just experienced.

You're almost rolling your eyes already at the thought, so easily predicting your boyfriend's behavior for the next several hours. It's this state of disapproval that blinds you as you open the door to the bathroom, not noticing the taller woman standing there before she's backing you up into the stall.

You stumble slightly as the presence walks towards you, your eyes adjusting to the other person who has suddenly joined you in the room. For a moment their back is turned, locking the door to the stall before their face is revealed to you. You curse a little under your breath when you recognise the features.

"There you are. God, do you know hard it was to track you down? Slipped right in here before I could get to ya."

The redhead in front of you breathes out her words, smiling down at you in a way that flips your stomach. It's in that moments everything truly comes crashing down. Every doubt you had, every belief that things like this don't happen in real life is swept away as the famous guitarist stands in front of you. It really was you she was looking at from the stage and now she'd tracked you down. Pinned you into a bathroom stall as she looks down on your figure with her eyes wide, almost drunk. "Uhm, hi?" Is all you manage to say, the entirety of the situation still comprehending itself in your mind.

The redhead in front of you smirks widely as she responds. "Hi." It's then that it hits you, the name you couldn't pinpoint earlier. Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. Lead guitarist of Crimson Coven. You're trying to remember anything Tyler might have said about her when she takes another step in your direction.

"Wow," she breathes, almost to herself. "You're even prettier up close." Her eyes seem to trace over your whole figure, her tongue playing with the inside of her cheek. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

"Uhm...thank you?" you stutter back, not entirely sure of how you're supposed to act in this situation. You're still trying to get over the shock of her pushing you back into the bathroom before you'd tried to leave. Not sure what else to do, your own eyes trail over the star stood ahead of you. She's still wearing her outfit from her performance; an old looking graphic tee tucked into a pair of black denim shorts. The boots on her feet have silver embellishments that match perfectly with the necklaces around her neck and many rings adorning her fingers. Her lips are painted a shade of faded red that both contrasts and yet somehow works perfectly with her hair, curled and messy around her shoulders. As you look over her, the thought of why your boyfriend may just like her band so much crosses your mind. She really was hot as shit.

But despite her looks, there's still an anxiety bubbling in your chest at this situation. It’s probably not often people could get this close to the star, let alone be held up in a room alone with her. Yet your ears are still ringing and the only true wish crossing your mind's eye is your bed. So, disappointing every girl who'd rather be in your place, you simply clear your throat as you gesture mindlessly to the door behind her. "I think there's people waiting outside to use this cubicle."

The rockstar cocks her head, smirking back. "Oh yeah?" She shrugs, only briefly glancing over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door. "I'm sure they'd be fine waiting. Didn't mind letting me cut through the line." When she smiles back at you, you assume the look in her eye is a mirror of how a predator looks at its prey. You find your lip between your teeth as you look back, very aware of just how much time you'd already spent in this bathroom and how there was a lot of people stood outside who would be becoming increasingly more annoyed at the occupied status, rockstar be damned. Though her attitude remains relaxed, the redhead in front of you seems to pick up on your hesitation because she lets out a low sigh. "Look, if you're really that bothered why don't don't we leave and your pretty ass can join me backstage?"

She takes another step towards you, eyes darkening a they take in your figure. You swallow the saliva in your mouth in an attempt to cool the burn in your stomach. "Sorry-I um-I have a boyfriend," you manage to stutter out, taken aback by her advances. She definitely was hitting on you, that much was clear now, but you knew that Tyler would be waiting for you somewhere, most likely wondering why the fuck you were taking so long to pee.

When your words ring out, its like the redhead's brain short circuits. She almost freezes, only her brows moving to pull into a deep frown. "Shit," she murmurs. "Really?"

You nod in response, fingers playing with the back of your shirt. "Yeah." The redhead looks awfully confused, her gaze trailing over you as if there's something she's missed. When her eyes meet yours once more, its like your answer is a complete mystery to her, like there's something she saw you must have missed in your own reflection. You try to brush it off, not delving into whatever thoughts must be running through the star's head. Instead you just clear your throat again, pointing to the door. "He's um- probably waiting for me."

A tight smile passes across your lips as you slowly move towards the door. The redhead lets you go, ever so slightly brushing past her arm without another word said. You reach for the handle of the door, turning it open before leaving the rockstar behind to wallow in whatever confusion or disappointment runs through her head. You just want to find Tyler and get the hell out of there.

When you finally emerge from the bathroom stall, it feels even warmer than it had before. Though now you're not entirely sure if it's just the air, or also the blood you can feel coursing through your cheeks. You try your best to brush it off, looking around the space to try and locate wherever your boyfriend might have wondered off to. Walking past the line of remaining girls, you have to try ignore their passing stares. Most are likely from your extended use of the bathroom, holding them up even further, but you can't help but feel at least a few are thinking about whatever happened between you and Natasha in that stall and why on earth you had the nerve to leave such an opportunity unfulfilled.

Trying to leave the entire interaction behind, you move to the main area of the venue lounge to try find your boyfriend so you can finally head home. It takes you a good few minutes of searching through the crowds before you spy him across the way, stood talking with all of his friends that he'd brought along to the concert.

"Tyler," you call, passing through bodies to get to him. When he doesn't seem to hear you, you shout again. "Tyler!"

Finally, he turns around, a look of recognition passing over his face as you appear by his side. "Oh there you are, babe," he says. "Where the hell did you go?"

"I was just-I was peeing," you reply, looking around sheepishly at the group of men all staring down at you. It wasn't that you didn't like Tyler's friends per se, it was more so they just weren't your type of people. Most times they’re around, you manage to skilfully skirt around them until a time when they've all gone back home.

Tyler scoffs a little at your comment. "You were gone for like half an hour." He laughs, gesturing to the group as they all join in.

"Yeah. Um-the line was long," you say, trying to avoid the annoyance creeping up your spine as well as skirt around the encounter you'd had just moments ago. Partially because you were still trying to wrap your head around it but also because you didn't want to hear whatever he had to say about what happened. Instead, you just let out a small sigh. "Can we just go home now?"

"Oh actually," Tyler starts. "We were thinking of hitting up a few bars before we went home."

The words hit you like a blast of hot air, unable to deny the feeling of annoyance brewing under your skin. Still, you try to remain sweet in hopes he'll seek pity on you. "Tyler, please," you reply. "I'm tired, can't we just-"

"You don't have to come."

He cuts you off quickly, halting the words in your throat. The attitude you can hear in his voice almost immediately breaks the facade of kindness you were putting on. "Excuse me?"

Tyler shrugs, having the nerve to look annoyed, like you're the one being unreasonable here. "Just call a cab home. You'll be fine." And with that it seems he's had enough of the conversation, turning his shoulders away as he beckons his group to follow.

"No, Tyler wait," you try, but he continues to move away. The only thing you receive is him quickly turning over his shoulder, calling out a goodbye as he promises to see you later.

"Tyler!" You yell but it's futile, the image of your boyfriend already swallowed up by the crowd. "Fuck."

For the second time tonight it feels like you have no idea how to react. You swivel around on the spot, like a lost kid in a grocery store. Some part of you can't believe he would just leave you like that, but then the other part understands it's him all over. Stupid selfish prick.

Far past being annoyed at the night's events, you reach for the phone buried in your jacket pocket, determined to just do as you were told and order a cab home. When the screen returns to you black, the only image your own reflection staring back at you even as you press the power button repeatedly, a long string of curses escape your lips. Stupid fucking phones and their stupid ass batteries. And of course tonight had to be the night you had forgone your charger, leaving you with just a useless weight of metal that you slip back into your pocket. Just my fucking luck.

For a moment, you're stuck on what to do, how to find a way home, but then your eyes fall on the bar across the room. You make your way through the crowd, squeezing past people and mumbling half-assed 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's' until you eventually reach the bar. When you do, the bartender walks over to you, a small smile appearing on his face. "Hi, what can I get for you?"

"Actually, I was just wondering if you could call me a cab?" you reply, raising your voice to be heard over the venue's loud music.

The bartender furrows his brow. "What?"

"A cab," you repeat, leaning in further to his ear. "Can you call me a cab, please? My phone is dead."

"Oh, I can't sorry," he responds, shrugging his shoulders. "Phone is broken."

"What? Can't you use your mobile or-"

"Not while I'm on shift."

He shrugs again. You scoff.

"Please. I really need to get home."

"Sorry," the bartender responds finally, turning away to move towards another customer down the bar.

You watch him go, scowling. When he starts to talk to someone else, asking for their order, another waterfall of curses fall from your tongue. How the fuck were you supposed to get home now?

"Hey gorgeous."

The voice all but pulls you from your thoughts and to the right, dragging you away from the harsh stare you were given the unhelpful bartender. When your eyes fall to the person who had sidled up beside you, a small sigh slips out, your eyes rolling in their sockets.

"Wow," the redhead responds, easily picking up on your bad attitude. She holds her hands up. "Sorry to offend."

You look back at the rockstar, at Natasha. It seems she's found you again in a moment where you want nothing more than to find a way out of there. Though despite your frustration, you know it's not her fault, that she isn't the one controlling the universe so adamant on your downfall tonight. So, you force yourself to soften your expression as you turn back to her. "No. No, I'm sorry," you say, shaking your head slightly. "It's just- I'm trying to get a cab home but apparently their phone is broken." You gesture towards the bar, displaying the utter uselessness of its bartender with the look on your face.

Natasha seems to take a little amusement in your frustration, the faintest of a smile appearing on her face. "You ain't got your own phone to call a cab?" The mobile is received from your pocket, quickly held up by your hand as you flash the dead device to the redhead opposite. She sighs, tilting her head back. "Ah, I see. What about that boyfriend of yours? Couldn't he call you a cab?"

You're a little surprised to hear her mention that piece of information, even if you'd only shared it with her minutes before in the bathroom stall. The mention of his presence is enough to drag the long sigh from your chest as you stare down at the bar. "Not when he's the reason I need one."

"Alright, I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that one."

Her words draw your eyes back to her, briefly grazing over her face before you respond. "He left with his friends. Gone off to some other bar. Told me to phone a cab home."

Natasha lets out a breath of air. "Dickhead." You watch her as she takes a sip from the beer in her hand, trying not to notice the way her lips look pressed against the top of the bottle. "You know, a pretty girl like you shouldn't have to wait around on assholes like that."

And then there's that same heat you felt in the bathroom, creeping up your cheeks unwelcome. You turn away again as you shrug in an attempt to hide it. "He's not that bad-" "Sure," Natasha cuts you off before you can even finish your explanation. In truth, you weren't even sure what else you were going to say, what redeeming qualities you could draw about the boy who'd left you stranded in the city to go get drunk with his friends. Instead you just turn to the woman sat beside you, only shallowly realising how she is in fact a minor celebrity and that a lot of the people around were probably looking over at the pair of you. But when Natasha smiles and leans in, it's like it all disappears. "Alright, lemme tell you this. You let me buy you one drink and I'll phone you a taxi home."

You look back at the rockstar sat across from you, letting her words settle into your mind. This close you can once again tell just how beautiful she is, how any girl in this room would pay good money to be where you are right now. But you don't want to be that kind of girl, the kind that chases after someone just because they have a little bit of fame. Nevertheless, there is something about the redhead that draws you in. Maybe it's the layers of piercings you can see stacking her ears, or the patchwork of tatoos lining her exposed arms. Whatever it is, something about her is making you want to follow whatever she says. Furthermore, her offer is one that is rather too good to refuse. After a moment, you sigh as you nod your head. "Fine. One drink." Natasha Romanoff smirks, calling the bartender over almost immediately with two fingers. It's the same tilted smile you had seen her passing you from across the stage, though now you can take notice of the small dimple that appears on her cheek when those lips pull taught. Everything about this encounter was setting something alight inside you but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

When your drink finally arrives - curtesy of a different bartender - you decidedly join the rockstar on the stools lined up against the bar. The leather is sticky and uncomfortable against the exposed skin under your skirt. Still, you ignore it as you look over at the redhead to your right, slowly taking a sip of the cocktail you'd ordered as you get the opportunity to voice the question that's been on your mind for the last couple hours. "Why were you looking at me on stage?"

"Why'd you think?" Natasha smirks the widest you've seen all night, licking her bottom lip as she turns to you. "I thought maybe you and I could have some fun but…you had to be little miss taken." You try not to react to her words, or moreover the way her eyes drag themselves over your body, particularly your exposed thighs against the red leather of the barstool. "Maybe we could still have some fun yet tho, hm?" Natasha finishes, her eyes returning to yours. Even in the dim light of the bar you can tell they're blown out, pupils wide as they drink you in.

You let out a sigh. "Listen, in the nicest way possible, I don't actually really know who you are and I don't know about this whole thing you're doing, if it's normal but-"

"Wait," Natasha cuts you off. "You were in the front row and don't know who I am?"

You feel a little bashful as you shrug your shoulders. "I mean- I kinda do, I guess. I mean- I've listened to a few of your band's songs but I'm not like- a fan or anything."

"Not a fan?" Natasha breathes, reaching to take another sip of her drink with an amused expression. "So tell me, how does a girl who's not a fan end up hugging the stage all night?"

You take a sip of your own cocktail before you reply. "My boyfriend bought the tickets."

"Ah there it is," Natasha nods. "The boyfriend yet again." She turns in her chair, legs moving to dangle off the side. "You know, he's not really our target demographic."

You know exactly what she's talking about, almost too quickly. It was rather obvious to you that Crimson Coven was not a band trying to attract straight men, even if they did flock to them over their members' good looks. "Yeah, I tried to tell him that," you reply, sipping on your drink.

One of the redhead's brows raises, eyes tracing over your face. "What's that one saying?" she ask, swirling the bottle in her hands. "Takes one to know one?" You feel the saliva pool in your throat as she looks back at you, smirk wider than ever. Swallowing harshly, you take a rather big swig of your drink, trying your best to ignore the way you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Natasha simply breathes out a laugh. "I think you're maybe not as you first seem, little lady." Right then there's a look that passes between you, your eyes wide and questioning, Natasha's dark and hooded. Then her hand is landing on your thigh, just above your knee where the skin is exposed. Her thumb strokes back and forth delicately as she licks her lips. "Why don't you tell me your name?"

There's a strange bubbling inside your stomach, a flutter to your heart. You want to turn and walk right out of there, ditch the rockstar in front of you and try your luck hailing a cab on the street. But part of you notices the shiver her touch sends up your thigh, how her skin is warm against yours in just the right kind of way, how despite your circumstances, just how amazing this moment feels. "Y/N," you reply eventually, swallowing your first instincts to the warm pit of your stomach.

"Y/N," the redhead repeats, rolling the name over her tongue. "I'm-"

"Natasha. I know."

She seems taken aback by your quick answer, cutting off her sentence before she can finish. She frowns slightly back at you. "I thought you said you didn't."

Now it's your turn to raise your brow. "I said I wasn't a fan. Not that I didn't know your name."

"I see," Natasha replies, her voice laced with amusement. She smiles to herself as she sips her beer, turning back with a wide grin. "You know, I've never slept with a Y/N before."

"You sleep with a lot of girls then?"

"I've done the rounds," Natasha shrugs. The nonchalant nature of her reply is enough to have you passing her a displeased look across the bar. She raises her brow, looking back at you. "What? You want me to lie to you? Tell you I'm the virgin mary?"

You want to laugh in response but hold yourself back, entirely aware of the game Natasha is trying to play. "So...what?" you draw out, playing with the rim of your glass. "You want me to be one of your new collectibles?"

"Well maybe if I get lucky."

You turn back to the smirking redhead. "I wouldn't buy a lottery ticket."

And she laughs, like really laughs right into her drink before she takes a sip. When she places it back on the bar, she shakes her head as she turns to look at you with a smirk. "You know most girls flock to my side," she says, raising a brow. "Asking for autographs or pictures."

"I already told you. I don't know that much about your band."

"You're here though, aren't you?" Natasha replies. "You must know some things."

She isn't entirely wrong. Sure, you knew of the things your boyfriend has endlessly droned on about. About Wanda being the one who named the band. Or about Carol and her cat, or Maria and her brief military background. You even knew about Natasha, little sparks in your memory of her coming from Russia or her hair being blonde at some point. It's all stored in the backlog of your brain, hours of knowledge you'd spent years sorting into the dusty compartments of your mind you never cared to look at. Still, there's something now about speaking to Natasha in real time, not hearing about your boyfriend's idealised version of her that feels a little different. Things here feel a little more real.

You don't acknowledge Natasha's question as you take a sip from your drink. "You want me to ask for your autograph?" you ask as you place the glass back down. "Is that it?"

The answer that follows is in such a low register you can barely hear it over the music. "I think we both know what I want."

You look back at Natasha, at her dazzling smirk and messy red hair. "Well I'm sorry to disappoint but I'm not your girl." A tight smile appears on your lips as you gaze out into the sea of bodies across the room. "Why don't you go find someone else?"

"Why would I when you're the prettiest thing in here?" Natasha's response is quick, almost as quick as the way her eyes divert to to rest if your body. "Hell, I'd go as far as to say you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"Listen," you sigh. "I appreciate the flattery but-"

"I ain't fucking around if that's what you think," Natasha says quickly, cutting you off. The look in her eye as she scans your face shows how genuine her words feel. "You caught my eye the second I stepped on stage. You're fucking gorgeous, angel. Forgive me if it's a crime to want to see more."

Despite your better instincts, you let out a laugh into your glass. No one has ever been this forward with you before, never complimented you so much to the point you can feel the heat of their words on your skin. Hell, not even Tyler was ever this keen to get you into bed. And you know you shouldn't like it, shouldn't fall for the rockstar's methods, but you can't help but enjoy the praise just a little bit.

That feeling is soon quashed however when your temple gives a sudden jolt of pain. You wince slightly, reminded of the too-loud atmosphere you'd spent the last few hours in. The alcohol probably wasn't helping much either.

"What's wrong?"

You're a little surprised when Natasha speaks, unaware of her having noticed your small flinch at the pain. You simply shake your head in response, smiling back at her. "Nothing. I'm fine. It's just a headache."

"You know," the rockstar replies quickly. "It's cooler backstage. Quieter too." You must give her a look laced with poison because she holds her hands up in defence once again, though this time smirking back at you. "Hey, Im just saying."

Despite your glare, you're still interested in the redhead sat opposite you. It's like even with her forward approach, you can't help but be drawn to some part of her. You try to avoid the smile that creeps back on to your face as you look back into her eyes. "Does this routine usually work for you?"

Natasha chuckles to herself before leaning in to speak. "Honey, by now I usually have a girl screaming my name as she rides my face."

It's now you're entirely glad of the dimness in the room, hiding the flushed state that rises in your throat and heats up your cheeks. You can feel yourself getting worked up by Natasha's bold statement, unsure of what to do with yourself or how to respond. In doubt of yourself, you simply reach for the cocktail glass in front of you and down the rest of the liquid. It burns a little going down but you find you don't mind it. Anything to take away from the feeling you can recognise brewing in your stomach.

You can just about feel Natasha's smirk as much as you can see it, pressing into the side of your head as she watches you become flustered, clearly enjoying the effect she is having on you. "Here," she says, adjusting herself in the chair. "Let me buy you another one."

You turn to meet her eye, holding it harshly. "I said one drink."

That smirk remains for a long while as Natasha just looks back at you, not answering for a few passing moments. It even stays as she lifts one of her arms, arching it so it comes to rest on the back of your barstool, officially caging in your conversation. "Alright," she drawls, her body leaning in towards yours. "Look at it like this. I can buy you another drink and we can talk some more. Maybe think about heading backstage, get you somewhere quieter. Or..." The redhead licks her licks, pausing as she angles her head. "I can phone you that cab now and you can mope in the backseat till you get home. Then, stumble into your cold apartment alone and just wait for your drunk boyfriend to get home and sidle up next to you in bed."

The blatant look on Natasha's face is a good representation of how you feel about the whole situation she's proposed. The thought of dealing with Tyler later is enough to have you rolling your eyes, already imagining his drunken state reaching out for you and wiping wet kisses along your neck, stinking of booze and the remaining perfume of whatever girl he's been chatting up at the bar. It's almost like a routine you've both fallen into, simply ignoring it every time until without fail, it'll happen again.

And maybe tonight you're done with it. Maybe tonight is the night you don't want to have to deal with him anymore, to hear him talk about himself for hours on end like you don't even exist. It's partially the thought of finally letting that go that pulls you in the direction you choose, but it's also largely down to the way you can feel Natasha pressing in closer, her face moving just inches from yours as her lips press up against your ear. Somehow, it's like you can even feel her smirking as her lips barely graze the skin beside your face. "If you come with me, I promise you won't regret it."

Maybe it is that that finally does it for you, the shiver of goosebumps running down your spine as you still feel the redhead's hand grazing your thigh. Maybe it's that or maybe it's the heat finally getting to you, or the alcohol hitting your head. It could be any of those, or maybe combination of them all. Whatever your brain decides to settle on as a reason, it doesn't really matter because within seconds, you're calling over the bartender for another drink, allowing yourself to fall into whatever rabbit hole Natasha Romanoff is offering you.

"I knew I'd like you, Y/N," the redhead whispers close, grinning widely at your acceptance. You don't say anything in response until the bartender is placing your vodka coke on the bar. And even then, just as you reach for the glass, Natasha is diverging any words you may have spoken as she grabs hold of your hand. "Come on," she calls and it's a challenge not to spill any of the drink as the redhead quickly begins to pull you from the bar.

"Natasha, wait-" you try to respond, not entirely sure of where this might be going, but the star is quickly cutting you off as she presses her lips together.

"Shh," she drags, looking back at you over her shoulder. "It's okay, angel. It's better back here, I promise."

Something in you gives in because you let her drag you through the crowds of the room, trying desperately not to spill the beverage in your hands. You notice on the way a few recognising faces that glance at Natasha, then almost turn a little sour as they fall onto you. You only get the chance to wonder about their jealousy for a few moments before Natasha has pulled you away from everyone entirely, slipping you through a door into a quiet corridor. And then, after turning a few corners and dodging a few stacks of equipment crates, she pulls you through another door into an entirely empty room.

It's only then does the redhead finally release your hand, letting you roam free as she crosses to sit on one of the sofas positioned within the room. Beside them, there's stacks of band equipment, most of which you don't quite recognise. The red guitar on the stand is easy, and the set of drumsticks lying on a table, but the speakers and wires sit in a valley of other items you probably couldn't name if you tried.

There are scatterings of personality throughout the space; a leather jacket thrown over a couch, an ashtray of old cigarettes on a coffee table, some cards laying close beside it. And for a moment you wonder if this is what Natasha Romanoff's life is like. Backrooms full of band equipment, roaring crowds that call out her name. An endless supply of money and booze and cigarettes and girls. It's so so far away from the reality that you live that it can't help but be a little fascinating, this room just a little window into the life of a true rockstar.

The one thing you do very quickly notice however, is the main luxury that the exclusive backstage room seems to have; air conditioning. Beautifully cool air floods your body as soon as the door closes behind you, your headache already cowering back in the quiet atmosphere. You just can't help but let out a long, appreciative sigh at the respite from the hot, humid air outside.

"Told ya." Natasha's voice calls as you see her throw herself down on one of the sofas, so easily slipping into her own space backstage.

You simply roll your eyes as you take a sip of the drink in your hand, surprisingly intact after lugging it across the venue. "So, where are your other friends?" you ask, looking more so at the room full of band things than the member sat on the couch across from you.

Natasha sighs, sitting back as her eyes drag over you. "Probably in rooms close by hoping to get somewhere like me."

"And where exactly is that?" you ask, feet wandering across the opposite side of the room from the redhead. She smirks back at you, watching your every movement.

"Why don't you tell me, gorgeous?"

You can feel yourself smile, finally allowing Natasha's flirting get to you. But instead of replying to her question, you simply run your fingers over the red instrument propped up on the stand beside you. "How long have you played guitar?"

"Fifteen years," Natasha replies quickly, unwavering at your change of topic.

You nod to yourself, looking down at the instrument. "Wow." There isn't anything you've probably committed to for that long, besides maybe school. You take a sip of your drink as you turn to lean on a table against the wall, now facing the still sitting redhead across the way. "How'd you meet the other girls?"

"It's a long story."

You hum in response, waiting just a moment for her to elaborate before you realise she's leaving it up to your own imagination. The two of you hold eye contact as you bring your drink up to your mouth, letting the bubbles pop on your lips as you drink before smoothing it over with your tongue. Theres a specific look in Natasha's eye you can't seem to recognise, almost as if she wants to eat you right where you stand. That smirk widens as you take another sip, your tongue yet again swiping over your lips and the sweet residual soda lingering there. It's then Natasha finally speaks, nodding her head in your direction. "Come here."

And you do. Placing your drink down on the table before pressing yourself up from it, you slowly make your way across the room to where Natasha sits. As you come to stand between her open legs, the rockstar sits up, her body straightening and her hands coming to rest on the sides of your hips. You let them explore a little as Natasha moves, forgoing the layer of your leather jacket and pressing directly beneath the hem on your shirt. Her fingertips feel calloused as they brush the skin beneath it, years of playing guitar coming to create the most amazing sensation as she brushes against your body.

"God, your skin is so soft," Natasha says lowly, almost to herself. It sounds like she's truly mesmerised, her entire being taken over by the feeling of you against her skin. And perhaps some part of you feels it too because without knowing what truly compels you, you find yourself lowering your body down into her lap. Natasha smirks as you come to rest upon her thighs, knees caging either side of her body. She glances down at the way your skirt rides up, only leaving little to the imagination of what lies beneath. Her hands come to rest there, stroking the soft skin of your upper thighs as you lift your arms above her shoulders, letting them fall behind her head as you stare into her eyes. From here, in the new lighting of the backstage room, you can see the sea of green that shrouds her pupils.

For a while you two just drink each other in, your bodies comfortably close as your eyes trace one another. Then, eventually Natasha is talking once more as her fingers reach out towards you. "What's this?"

You follow her eyeline down to your chest, watching the way her fingers have found the crystal hanging around your neck. "Aventurine," your reply.

Natasha smiles as she looks back at your face. "Wanda's the crystal lover so you'll have to enlighten me. What does this one do?"

You shrug a little. "It's brings a few things...Hope, optimism, prosperity. Mostly luck."

The redhead raises a brow as her voice finds that playful tone. "Luck?"

"Mhm," you hum, finding yourself leaning in just slightly closer. "Stone of opportunity."

"So you're telling me it's because of this little rock that I wound up with a pretty girl sat on my lap?"

You hold back a laugh as you search Natasha's smirking face. "Don't call it a rock."

"No?"

You shake your head, humming. "I think it offends them."

The two of you are pressed even closer now, your arms coming crossed behind Natasha's head as she pulls you in. Her voice is almost a whisper when she speaks. "I know some things I could do to offend a lot of people."

The breath you release is shaky as you feel Natasha's hand reach up to cusp your face. She holds your chin, finger so delicate across your skin before she reaches to trace your bottom lip, just momentarily pulling it down with her thumb.

And it's then, with her face pressed so close to yours, green eyes almost black with lust, that you finally let everything go and you lean in. The first kiss is electrifying. Like that first strum of a chord when the guitar kicks in in a song, the bass just rattling your bones and setting your nerves on fire.

Natasha's lips are beautifully soft against yours, a contrast to the harshness of her fingertips you can feel pressing into the side of your face. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and cigarette smoke, sweet but hazy to your senses. The redhead quickly takes a grip of your jaw, angling your head just right so she can drive the kiss deeper. You don't complain as she begins to domineer your mouth, tongue sliding across yours with the skills of a professional.

When you both finally pull back for air, you can only wonder why you forced yourself to wait for this so long. Her touch is like nothing you've ever felt before, your entire body simply set alight with a hunger for her. You look down at the redhead for a moment and Natasha smirks devilishly up at you, eyes blown wide before she's pulling you back in. Your hands hold the back of her neck as your lips collide once more, pulling her in as close to you as you can in a desperate need for more.

Natasha's fingers dance up your arms before you can feel her begin to press the leather jacket away from your shoulders. You move your hands to let her remove it, only hearing it crash to the floor as you try desperately to hold your lips against the rockstar's. A low whine erupts in your throat as you feel her pull away seconds later, your bruised mouth chasing hers.

But Natasha just lets herself grin as her hands caress your body, deft fingers running up and down your sides. Only moments later, she's reaching beneath the material of your shirt to pull it over your head. Her breaths are heavy as her eyes trace your exposed body, almost fixated on the swell of your breasts in the lacy balconette bra cladding your chest.

"Fuck," the redhead says under her breath. Her hands come up to caress your tits, squeezing them tenderly through the material as your own pants flow from your chest. Her lips connect soon after, kissing and nipping at the skin of your cleavage with delicate precision. You let your head fall back as the redhead pays attention to your chest, simultaneously sucking and playing with your tits with her mouth and hands, sending rolls of pleasure flooding down your spine.

When one of her hands slips up the bare skin of your back, her lips disconnect as she meets your eye. Her fingers play with the clasp of your bra as you look down at her. "Can I?" she whispers, face so close to your own.

"Uh huh," you reply, nodding your head quickly. It's only seconds later you can feel the release against your chest, Natasha's skilled hands making quick work of the clasp and tossing your brassiere to the side. Her attention is straight back on you as she reveals your bare chest, kissing the previously hidden skin as she murmurs soft praises into the flesh. "God, you're so beautiful."

Your fingers find a place running through her hair as she continues to play with your tits, red fibres intertwined with your painted nails. A string of softer sounds elicits from your throat as Natasha's fingers find your nipples, pinching and pulling at the hardened buds with just the perfect amount of pressure.

"Natasha," you breath out heavily, holding back a moan as her teeth replace her hands playing with your chest.

"Yeah baby?" the redhead responds, looking up at you but not removing her face from where it rests.

The look on her face only adds to the pool you can feel forming between your legs, all down to her touch and copious amounts of flirting. You want to see more of her, want to run your hands across her body. Not entirely confident enough to word it, you settle for a whine as you tug at her shirt. Thankfully, it seems Natasha is apt at picking up your signals because she smirks widely before reaching to untuck her shirt and pull it over her head.

As the rockstar tosses it somewhere across the room, you can't help but stare at the sight she's unveiled. Her tits sit beautifully in a red bralette, perked perfectly with pink nipples visible through the mesh material. Every part of you feels totally enamoured by her look, eyes unable to peel themselves away from her heavenly cleavage on display.

It's in your admiration, you find yourself distracted, not noticing the way the rockstar's hand has slipped up your skirt until you suddenly feel her touch against your underwear. A gasp escapes you as her fingers graze over your clothed core, most definitely feeling the way her tactics have saturated the material. The redhead makes eye contact with you, pupils dark. "This okay?" she whispers, voice as thick as honey.

It takes all your efforts to breathe out a response, entirely worked up by her touch. "Yeah," you reply, nodding quickly. By this point you would let her do whatever she wanted if it would soothe ache between your legs.

Natasha smiles widely as she hears your response. "Lift your hips for me," she says, playing a chaste kiss to your collar bone. You do ask she asks, rising up to your knees on the sides of the couch. It gives Natasha the room to hook her fingers underneath the sides of your underwear, pulling them down painfully slowly as she looks into your eyes. When she finally manages to slide them over your legs, she tosses them somewhere off to the side before pulling you back down to sit on her lap.

Just then, a sudden thought crosses your mind. "I've-I've never done this before," you stutter out. "With a woman, I mean."

You wonder for a moment if Natasha will be put off by your inexperience, but that thought is quickly extinguished when the redhead only smirks wider. "That's alright," she replies. "Cause I happen to be somewhat of an expert."

You let out the barest of a laugh at her words, letting the anxiety flood out of your mind. Natasha's smirk holds as you feel her hand creep up your skirt again, dancing over the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "Relax, sweetheart," she husks. "I got you now."

Her fingers move to again run over your centre, this time touching your bare skin as you feel her fingers trace your soaked folds. She collects the wetness pooling from your centre before dragging it up to your clit, spreading it as she slowly begins to circle the bud. A moan slips as she presses a little harder, her fingers perfectly pooling pleasure between your legs.

"That's it, baby," Natasha purrs, face close to your ear. "Let me hear all those pretty noises."

You feel your teeth plunge into your bottom lip as another moan slips from your throat. Natasha's touch is so teasingly slow you can't help but buck your hips a little into her hand. "Please-" you whine, desperate for her to do more.

Thankfully, Natasha obliges and another moan drawls from your chest as you feel her middle finger plunge into your core. Your muscles tense around her, pulling her finger in further as your face comes to burrow into the redhead's shoulder.

"Uh uh," Natasha sounds from above you. "Let me see your face, pretty girl." Her finger find your chin, directing your gaze back up until your eyes meet with hers."There you go."

She smiles widely as she leans in for a kiss, once again enveloping your lips in her sweet, sultry taste. The two of you press deeply into another, noses brushing together. You can feel Natasha's finger slowly begin to move inside you, teasing your walls as you whine against her mouth. Your lips only disconnect when you feel Natasha add another finger to the one pumping inside you, your face falling as a gasp sounds from your chest.

She works almost painfully slow, her fingers pulling virtually all the way out before steadily bottoming inside you once again. Each time, her fingertips press against that spot inside you, just softly enough for you to barely feel it. Chasing more of a high, your hips begin to rut against her hand. "Natasha," you whine, voice long and drawn out at her teasing attitude. Some part of you wonders if it's some form of payback for letting it take so long to get you in this position.

The rockstar places a soft kiss to the side of your neck before she's whispering in your ear, hot breath fanning out across the skin. "Shh, just ride my fingers," she says, smiling against you. You feel her free hand come to rest upon your hip, slowly guiding you to rut harder against her hand. Each time you do, you feel her fingers curl into that spot inside you, sending soft sighs of pleasure cascading from your lips.

"'Atta girl," Natasha husks, continuing to guide your movements with her palm. Your hands come to rest upon her shoulders, holding yourself up as you rock back and forth. The redhead's fingers slide in and out of you with each motion, the sounds of the wetness between your legs joined by the moans slipping from your tongue.

Natasha watches with wide eyes as you grind against her hand, fingers gripping into her shoulders as your pleasure grows. She lets her digits curl inside you, releasing sweet, sudden sounds from your lips. Her thumb moves to brush against your clit, the hardened surface sending shocks of pleasure through you each time you rock your hips.

"Fuck baby," Natasha says lowly, watching you practically fuck yourself on her lap. "Are you gonna make a mess?" she drawls. "You gonna make a mess all over my fingers for me?"

"Uh huh," you respond, barely managing to nod your head as you can feel that coil building tighter and tighter in your stomach. Natasha's touch is like electric to your skin, each thrust building to a crescendo at your core.

"Come on, angel," the redhead whispers. "Show me just how pretty you are when you cum."

Her words, alongside one last thrust of your hips is enough to send you toppling over that edge. Your moan is drawn out loudly as you feel yourself come undone, eyes slamming shut as you grip hold of Natasha's shoulders. Your body arches in to her, letting Nat take advantage of your chest with her mouth once more as her fingers ride you through your orgasm.

"Fuck," you breathe, finally starting to come down from your high. You open your eyes once more to see Nat smirking up at you, letting go of your nipple between her teeth as both of her hands now rest on your waist. As your mind clears, you let yourself begin to fall back down on to her lap, but when you accidentally land directly on her thigh, you feel a shock sent through your core. You wince, immediately lifting yourself back up at the sensitivity.

But Natasha seems to have other plans. "Shh, angel. It's okay," she murmurs as her hands grip harsher on to the skin of your waist. She begins to push you back down, eliciting a gasp as your sensitive core connects again with her leg. You squirm a little in the position, fighting ever so slightly against Natasha as she tries to drop your full weight on to her. "Just sit on my thigh," she drawls, hands guiding you down. "Just like that, there you go."

The position hikes your tight skirt all the up to your waist, completely exposing your cunt as it comes to rest against the bare skin of Natasha's thigh. You're pathetically wet against her, cum still dripping out your core from your previous orgasm. But if anything, Natasha only seems to enjoy the way you soak her skin, smirking up at you as her hands begin to direct you once again. Her movements force you to rock back and forth slowly, your slick coating the skin of her leg beneath you. The wave of pleasure that comes from the movement sends a moan tipping out your mouth, your head falling back as your clit throbs with each brush against Natasha's thigh.

"Does that feel good, baby?" the redhead beneath you husks, still guiding your movements. It takes all your focus to nod your head. "Mhm?" Natasha questions, her voice purely laced with amusement. "You're such a good girl. Just keep grinding on me, just like that."

You feel the rockstar's hands disengage from your waist but your movement continues, encouraged by her words and praise. You watch between fluttering eyelashes as Natasha reaches to take off her bra, tossing it aside and revealing her perfect tits to you. Then, you see as her hands moves to undo her shorts, opening each button before her fingers disappear beneath the waistband of the black denim.

You hold back a whine as you see her face contort, only imagining what her fingers may be doing under the material of those shorts. "God, you're making me so wet," the redhead breathes, reaching up to place a kiss on to your pouting lips. You release a whine into her, muffled by her tongue lapping over your own. "Such a pretty girl," Natasha mewls when she pulls away, one hand reaching up to caress your jaw. "So pretty just for me. Wanna see how wet I am for you?"

You feel yourself nodding as you look into her green eyes, turned even more on by the concept of Natasha getting off just by looking at you. The redhead removes her fingers from beneath her shorts before bringing them up to your face, letting you view the soaked digits momentarily before pressing them up to your lips. You take in her fingers welcomely, humming around them as you let the taste of her coat your tongue.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Natasha husks, sounding about as love-drunk as you felt sucking on her fingers. She lets you lap them up a moment longer before pulling them from your lips with a pop. Then, you watch as she dips them back below her shorts, moaning softly at the contact it makes on her hidden centre.

Your eyes feel almost transfixed on the hand concealed beneath the material of Natasha's black shorts. The only true indication of whatever her fingers are doing comes from the delicate hums and sighs that escape the redhead's lips. The sight alone is enough to make you grind your cunt harder against her thigh, desperately trying to ease the heat growing there.

The rockstar notices your attempts becoming more determined, fingers clutching at her shoulders as your own needy mewls drip from your tongue. "Are you gonna cum on my thigh baby?" she asks, smirking widely.

You grind faster against her, trying desperately to chase your high but it feels like it's never coming. "I can't," you whine, hopelessly rutting atop of her.

"You can," Natasha nods.

"Mm-hm," you hum, shaking your head. Your fingers grip harder into her skin, the feeling between your legs never quite reaching that peak you're seeking out.

"You can, baby," Natasha replies quickly, voice assertive. "Look, just like this." You feel her hands come to rest upon your ass, fingers gripping into the soft flesh before she begins to rock you once more. With her guidance, you follow a more structured pattern, your clit brushing perfectly against her thigh with each rock of your hips. "There you go," the redhead hums, watching your face screw up in pleasure at the newfound rhythm. Moans begin to cascade from your lips in desperate tones as each new thrust sends you closer to that edge. The way Natasha guides you sends perfect waves of pleasure through your entire body, your hands pressing into her shoulders to try ground yourself in the high. When you feel her fingers join in on the equation, your cries turn ever more lewd, her hand placed so that your clit brushes directly over her calloused tips each time you rut your hips.

"Come on baby girl," you hear Natasha husk, her face close to yours. "Cum for me. You can do it. Cum all over my thigh."

One more thrust sends you hurtling over the edge, screaming out as you feel a gush of warmth flooding onto Natasha's leg. Your arms wrap around her head, anchoring yourself in as you ride out your high, mewling choked moans into the redhead's ear. Natasha guides you through the orgasm once more, still slowly guiding your hips to an eventual stop. When you finally emerge from the crook of her neck, you're panting.

The rockstar admires the way your chest rises and falls, the green crystal still hanging around your neck, nestled in the valley of your breasts. "God, you're so fucking perfect," she husks, drinking in your figure. "I could get addicted to the way you look falling apart for me."

You don't say anything in response as you still try to calm yourself from the high, head feeling fuzzy as you look back at the redhead. She smirks widely as she watches you, utterly obsessed with the way you look sat on top of her, eyes glazed over in residual pleasure.

A single one of her fingers comes to swipe up some of the cum you've left slathered on her thigh, purposely brushing slightly over the top of your bruised clit just to watch you squirm a little before bringing her hand up to her own mouth. She practically laps up the stickiness coating her finger, humming lowly as your cum trickles down her throat. "God," she breathes, letting her finger fall. "I wish I had my strap so I could fuck that sweet little pussy of yours." You whine on top of her, still too inebriated to form a real response. Natasha only chuckles at your intoxication. "Would you like that, pretty girl? Like me to fuck you till you can't even think anymore?"

"Uh huh," you nod, already fantasying the image inside your head.

Natasha laughs again, tilting her head as she watches your face. "You're so cum-drunk right now I think you're already half way there. Isn't that right?" A low sound in the back of your throat is the only response, heightened when you feel Natasha's lips connect with your neck. She sucks as the soft flesh, glazing over the burn with her tongue. She stays there a moment, clearly leaving a mark on your skin that you have no idea how you'll cover up tomorrow. But quite frankly, you don't even care.

When Natasha pulls away, she notices how that glaze has left your eyes, your consciousness returning finally after your last climax. She smirks, eyeing you with that mischievous look as her face comes to rest near your cleavage, placing a chaste kiss to your sternum before looking back up. "You want me to empty that pretty head of yours some more?"

You're barely able to focus on her words as she lets her tongue circle around your nipple. In the end, you don't answer her question, simply whine as her teeth tease at the hardened bud. "Tasha-"

The nickname slips from your tongue almost too easily, your brain not even recognising it. Natasha, however, does, and she can't believe how amazing it sounds coming from your mouth. "Fuck," she whispers, coming face to face with you again. She looks into your eyes for a long moment before she begins to shift her body, turning yours with it. "Lie down for me, baby," she murmurs, twisting your body to lay down on the couch beneath you. "Just like that."

You let her manoeuvre you to the perfect position, arching slightly as the cold leather of the couch hits your back. Lying back, you watch as Natasha leans over you, placing a few quick kisses to your neck before travelling lower. When she reaches your waistline, her fingers work to unzip the skirt still clinging to your waist. She makes light work of undoing it before beginning to pull it down your legs, placing kisses on your warm flesh as she goes. When the article is tossed aside, the rockstar begins to unfasten the boots still tied to your feet. She removes them quickly, laying them aside and soon letting her own join them.

Then, you watch in awe as the redhead slowly slips her fingers into the waistband of her own shorts, almost making a show out of it as she slips the garment down. Shorts and underwear go at the same time as Natasha strips herself in front of you, smirking as she notices the way you stare. Your eyes never leave her as her body moves back towards the couch, coming to a rest above you as her knees straddle your waist. "You're so hot," you all but mumble, mesmerised by the sight in front of you.

Natasha simply chuckles lowly at your response. "Give me your hand," she says, reaching out towards your wrist. You let her take hold, watching intently as she guides you between her legs. She runs your fingers methodically through her folds, gasping quietly as the touch. She's soaked, slick coating your digits, probably residual from where she had been touching herself earlier. "You feel that? It's all for you, baby." Natasha hums as she guides your hand through her core. You can't help but let your own little noises slip, feeling just how wet she is beneath your touch. Your fingers curl at the ends, dipping into Natasha's centre before you pull them up to rub at her swollen clit. "Ah, fuck," the star moans, pinching her eyes closed. She lets you play with her a bit longer before she eventually pulls your hand away, letting it drop to your side. Instead, she reaches the hand she was using to guide you under your right thigh, squeezing into the flesh gently. "Lift your leg for me," she says, pulling upwards on your thigh.

You let her manoeuvre your leg, holding it up to the side while she adjusts her own body. You watch as one of her legs hooks over your waist, angling herself so that her core is directly above your own. When she sinks down to meet you, a lewd gasp sounds from your mouth, the new sensation electric against your skin. Natasha's cunt is wet against your own, accentuated by the cum that sill coats your sensitive folds.

"Oh my god," you breathe out, entirely in awe at the new feeling of the redhead against you. The star smirks down at you, letting your legs fall back into a relaxed position as she anchors herself to your hips with her hands. When she begins to move against you, the loud moans that escape you coat the entire room.

Her clit brushes beautifully against your own as Natasha rocks her hips back and forth, the noises of your combined wetness thick in the air. "Fuck, you feel so good," the redhead moans out, her own breath becoming shallow as she rolls against you. It doesn't mean that she lets her guard down entirely though, quickly noticing when your head lolls to the side and your eyes squeeze shut. "Eyes on me, beautiful," she directs, reaching out to grasp your face.

You let her turn your chin as you open your eyes back up, drinking in the sight in front of you. Natasha rocks back and forwards against you with a perfect rhythm, her tits bouncing with each new thrust. Natasha sees you watching and reaches for your hands, guiding them up to plump flesh of her chest. You squeeze roughly, savouring the delicate moans that spill from the rockstar's lips.

"God, you're so hot," the redhead murmurs between heavy breaths. "I just can't get enough of you. Maybe I'll just have to bring you along on tour with me, let you be my little groupie."

You moan loudly, not only from the way Natasha's cunt grinds over your swollen clit, but also at the teasing voice and notion of her words. Natasha smirks down at you. "You like that idea, huh?" she husks. "You wanna be my little groupie who I fuck like this after all my shows?"

You don't have the ability to form a response to her, merely putting all of your energy into chasing your combined high. Your back arches off the cold leather of the couch as you try your best to rock your hips against the rockstar's, listening to the sound of your wet cunts grinding desperately against one another. When a particular thrust bumps across your clit, a whine sounds low in the back of your throat. "Tasha-"

The nickname does wonders once again in Natasha's mind, sounding so sweet lacing your tongue. "Fuck," she murmurs, trying to keep up her pace. "I want you to say my name like that when you cum baby, okay?"

You nod weakly, chest heaving. "Good girl." Natasha bucks slightly as your clits brush over one another, her legs twitching by your sides. "Fuck."

The two of you continue to rock against one another, your moans harmonising together as you both climb closer to your climax. Your hands rest upon Natasha's full thighs, gripping for support as the pleasure rolls over you in waves. She clasps at your waist, feeling the thin layer of perspiration coating your skin.

"Fuck," you breathe out. "I think I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me," Natasha finishes, thrusting into you. You do as she says and let that coil loose in your stomach, letting your orgasm shred through you as you all but scream out in pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Tasha."

Her name dripping from your lips sends the redhead over the edge too, rutting against you as she cums hard. "Shit," she mumbles, riding her wave as the combination of your juices blends together and soaks both of your legs.

Both of your bodies tense, movements becoming sloppy as your highs hit. When nearly a minute later, you've both come down from the peak, Natasha slowly untwines your legs from one another. She flops down on the couch beside you, barely enough room for the two of you to lie next to another. For a while you two sit with the combined sounds of your own heavy breaths, both of your bare chests heaving in the warmth of the room.

"Oh my god," you manage to slip out, finally aware of how you've just had the best sex of your life. Nothing could ever compare to what Natasha had just done to you, no other partner ever even coming close to making you cum that hard.

Natasha seeks amusement in your blown out state, clearly enjoying the revelation painted on your face. She rolls her head towards you, her signature smirk making one final appearance. "I told you, you wouldn't regret coming back stage with me."

Your head turns towards her, meeting her widened eyes still dark with lust. You almost want to tell her she's wrong, that all your avoiding earlier had been the right path you go down, but you know it's all bullshit. She was right, there wasn't a single ounce of regret in your bones.

Natasha smiles at your clear agreeance, almost smug in the way she licks her lips. She props herself up on to one arm, leaning over you with those dark emerald eyes. Her fingers come to find the crystal hanging around your neck, rolling the stone between her fingertips as she smiles deeply. Then, she turns back to you, looking as sly as she first had back in that bathroom stall. "Now," she drawls. "About that groupie thing..."

[anachronistic-falsehood]

i. don’t really know what to think about the whole forever situation. because i have seen people say “he’s addressed this a long time ago so why are we bringing it up” but i haven’t seen WHERE he’s addressed it in the past. nary a tweet or clip of anywhere he may have talked about it, but i would love to see an older clip of him talking about this if possible

I’ve seen people say “his tweets and messages were translated in bad faith to give english speakers a bad perception” which. ok yeah understandable but if that’s the case i still don’t know what exactly the situation is or how serious it is

“she was 13” “she was 15” OK WHICH IS IT!!! both are bad but one is still significantly grosser than the other and i don’t know which is true!! or are there multiple girls!!! i don’t know!!!

“he met a fan for flirtatious/sexual reasons” “he met a fan for normal content creator reasons” WHICH IS IT!!!! I DON’T KNOW!!! i guess only he and the fan would know what the intent was when they met, and even then i don’t know if they met alone or if it was a normal ass fan meetup with multiple other people there

“it’s been 7-8 years, he’s changed” ok. now we are making some sense. he has not exhibited this kind of behaviour in years it seems and he appears to be the kind of person who would not say or do these things now. no one is irredeemable and no one is beyond change. still, it is important for some people to know. many fans would rather know this and make the educated choice on whether to support him or not than continue to support him in blind blissful ignorance. even though it’s stressing me out and i’m still clueless about a lot of it, i’m glad i know anyway.

“what about the past transphobia and the ableism and the and the and the-” That Is Not Relevant To This Conversation. this is a different situation. he has apologized for his past opinions and everyone has had ample time to come to terms with them and make peace with supporting him despite his past beliefs.

“he’s deleting past tweets” i mean if someone was digging around my account for things i’ve said that i no longer stand by, i would delete shit too. sure as hell doesn’t make him look innocent but i would do the same. i HAVE done the same, albeit for much more minor and trivial reasons for posts i made when i was like 15, but still

“he apologized and said he’s getting a lawyer!! no guilty person would do that!!” your content creator is not an angel. guilty people take their accusers to court all the time and get away with it. also, it is up to everyone individually to decide whether to believe him or not. you cannot push others to believe your side but you can give context to some things

there’s nuance to this like there is with everything, and people are jumping to conclusions saying either “he’s an innocent little lamb how dare you!” or “he should be deplatformed and we should never speak of him again!” i will never fault anyone for supporting the alleged victim. if your decision is to stop watching him immediately or even stop supporting the qsmp itself, no one should ever fault you for that. it is ultimately up to you to make that decision. the situation is not clear enough for me to make a decision, so i will withhold judgement for now. i will not doompost about it, and i will not call out people for defending or dropping him.

but for the love of god, just. everybody keep your cool. especially english speakers, we may not have full proper translations for the messages and tweets. take a deep breath. if you want to find more info to form an opinion now and spread information that people don’t already have, go ahead. if you want to step back and not think about it for now, go ahead. there is no shame in taking a step back and thinking about other things. you are not morally obligated to be invested in this situation. you are not morally obligated to drop him immediately and you are also not morally obligated to keep supporting him just because he’s friends with your favs. stick to your gut and do what you feel is right. you will be okay. this is not the end of the world.

[balletfilmss]

ALL DA LADIES LUV YN!!

✸ pairing: jason grace x fem!athena!reader smau

✸ notes: im shamelessly addicted to social media aus & haven’t seen a SINGLE one for my boy…lets change that

…now playing: full machine — gracie abrams

yn.ln: nru…expect my therapy bills for those exams (ft. the world’s worst study buddy)

tagged: j.grace

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seaweed.brain: aren’t athena kids supposed to be…smart?

╰┈➤ yn.ln: @wise.girl COME GET HIM, HE’S OUT AGAIN

╰┈➤ wise.girl: PERCEUS

╰┈➤ seaweed.brain: AINT NO WAY—

j.grace: everyone see that? that’s MY gf who made a 100 on the advanced calc exam. MY GIRLFRIEND 🗣️‼️

╰┈➤ piedpiper: simp in capital red letters

╰┈➤ j.grace: loud and proud

j.grace: don’t hate on my studying skills, that was at like 2 am 😒

╰┈➤ yn.ln: it was NINE PM???

╰┈➤ j.grace: it most certainly WAS NOT

╰┈➤ yn.ln: do not take that tone with me.

╰┈➤ j.grace: yes ma’am, i’m sorry

teamleo_: who’s the cutie in slide 3? 🤭😏

╰┈➤ yn.ln: the book’s called the hunger games, thanks for asking! 🫶

╰┈➤ j.grace: @yn.ln IS IT BULLY YOUR BOYFRIEND DAY???

hazzzelnut: WAY TO GO BABE, SO PROUD OF YOU

╰┈➤ yn.ln: hazel ilysm my precious sweet darling angel 🫶🩷😚

piedpiper: ignore that blondie, she snuck out to see me once he was asleep 🥱😝

╰┈➤ yn.ln: shhhhh pipes, they’re not supposed to know

╰┈➤ wise.girl: PIPER HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME???

╰┈➤ seaweed.brain: I BEG YOU FINEST FUCKING PARDON???

…now playing: steal my girl — one direction

j.grace: smart girl appreciation post!!! 🤍 (piper mclean dni)

tagged: yn.ln

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teamleo_: gods bless yn for dealing with that blue eyed stare…she’s the strongest soldier ✊

╰┈➤ yn.ln: i try 😔

yn.ln: I LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU MY SWEET BOY 🩷

╰┈➤ j.grace: I LOVE YOU MORE PRETTY GIRL <3

piedpiper: giggling bc he doesn’t know that HE’S the side piece @yn.ln

╰┈➤ yn.ln: what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him

╰┈➤ j.grace: i will take this post DOWN

╰┈➤ yn.ln: nuh uh

seaweed.brain: okay, but annabeth can recite more digits of pi than yn 🤷‍♂️

╰┈➤ yn.ln: why are you such a hater

╰┈➤ wise.girl: and how many can YOU recite, percy, hm? 🤨

╰┈➤ yn.ln: GET HIS ASS ANNIE 🗣️🗣️

reyna_ara: i’ll always jump at the chance to look at some pictures of yn 🤭

╰┈➤ yn.ln: reyna ily

╰┈➤ j.grace: i’m blocking everyone but yn, leo, and like, my sister

╰┈➤ thaliyuh: do not think for a SECOND that i don’t also think you’re gf is hot (one chance, yn 🙏)

╰┈➤ j.grace: get out. all of you.

yn.ln: “all da ladies love leo!” no. all the ladies love yn, and their bfs want to be me 💪

╰┈➤ j.grace: i’m deleting this app.

yn.ln uploaded a story!

2 replies!

@ seaweed.brain gag. me. with. a. spoon.

beth saw this & is on her way 😚

🏃💨

—————

@ j.grace. um. forever?? 🤭

well that’s the plan, isn’t it?

you know it, sweetheart

[bwabys-scenarios]

Vampire kurapika?? ITS BEEN ON MY MIND ALL DAY

Strange Girl(NSFW)

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

Vampire!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

A/N: This post has been in my drafts since October 😭

warnings: slight yandere behavior, Kurapika is possessive/protective over you, fingering, creampie, biting, Kurapika drinks your blood

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

In his few centuries of being a vampire, Kurapika had grown lonely. He hid himself away in the large manor that had been passed down in his family, only coming out to feed at night.

Although, on one of these nights, Kurapika’s life would change forever.

It was late October, perhaps even Halloween night. Kurapika had stopped keeping track of the exact date years ago. It didn’t really matter, he couldn’t feel the cold or the heat on his undead skin, so the changes in months and weather meant little to him.

He wasn’t really that hungry, but had decided to feed that night to get it over with. Honestly, the blonde tried not to feed all that often, preferring to stay in his manor and read to pass the time.

However, he heard the town nearby would be relatively quiet, considering there would be a huge party that all the humans would be attending. That meant he could easily pick off one of the stragglers in the dead of night, giving him an easy meal.

Kurapika roamed the streets, wearing a new coat from one of his latest victims and using the streetlights to read as he walked. It was a new book, some kind of romance novel. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the genre, honestly it just depressed him, but over his 300 years of life, the things he hadn’t read became smaller and smaller. He didn’t have the privilege of being picky anymore.

It was around midnight when he sensed someone else on the path ahead of him. He glanced up from his book for a split second, long enough to see who it was, but not long enough to cause suspicion.

Already, he was feeling bad. It was a girl, a pretty one at that. She was strolling down the street, humming along to something she was listening to in her headphones. The girl didn’t seem to notice him until she got closer, glancing up to give him a friendly smile, pulling off one of her headphones.

“Hi!”

Kurapika gave a quick nod in response before looking away. He didn’t like talking too much with his victims before he drained them, it just left a bigger impact on him to talk to his food before he ate it. “Did you not get invited to the party either? I thought I was the only one!”

He attempted to ignore her, waiting for her to get close enough to strike. “Oh, is that a romance novel? I haven’t seen it before!”

‘This human sure likes to talk.’ Kurapika thought, his scarlet eyes peeking over his book to get a better glimpse at her.

She was closer now, only a few feet away. Now he could tell she was rather plump, and incredibly cute. The woman was wearing a thin silk nightgown with a cardigan thrown over it to keep somewhat warm.

“… why are you dressed like that? Its the end of October, it’s not exactly warm out.”

Although Kurapika couldn’t feel the cold, but he could tell she could. She hummed, stopping 2 feet in front of him. “Oh, sometimes I have trouble sleeping, so I walk around and listen outside and listen to music until I get tired.”

The vampire sighed, looking her over. “You shouldn’t do that. The people say there’s a serial killer on the loose.”

‘That serial killer being me,’ he thought, his eyes scanning her figure.

She tilted her head, seeming to take in his appearance before speaking again. “Hmm? I’m pretty tough I’ll have you know! Look!”

She pulls out a little pocket knife, and it was almost amusing how small and useless it looked. “I’m armed!”

Kurapika looked at this girl standing before him and smiling, and he knew he was going to be leaving hungry tonight. “I see… well, I’ll be off then.”

The woman blinked, quickly turning to grab his hand. “Hey wait!”

Kurapika froze, the soft, warm feeling of her touch sinking into his hand. He almost shuddered. The only ways for vampires to experience warmth was through human touch or blood, so it almost a euphoric feeling to be touched. “What?”

He glanced back at her, giving her a slightly surprised look when he saw she was pouting. “You didn’t tell me why you’re out here all by yourself. It’s not safe for you either!”

Was this little human… worried for him? He wanted to laugh, but instead, Kurapika decided to indulge her. “I guess I’m on a walk as well.”

She seemed unimpressed with his answer, but didn’t push further. “Ah…”

He looked down, noticing she still hadn’t let go of his hand. When she caught him looking, she blushed and pulled her hand away. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

She twiddled her thumbs, glancing up at him. Kurapika found this human somewhat… cute.

“One more thing!”

She smiled shyly at him. “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around town!”

Kurapika thought for a moment. He could lie to her, but he considered lying a sin. It was a little hypocritical of him, considering he killed people to eat.

“It’s Kurapika.”

She smiled, offering her hand to him. “Well I’m (Name), nice to meet you Kurapika!”

And like that, they were exchanging phone numbers. It took him a moment once he was alone to process that she had snatched his phone, gotten his number, and given him hers. He was too distracted by the kissy mark now on his cheek… and the sweet smile she gave him when she left.

This human had caught his interest… and he wouldn’t be letting her slip through his fingers.

———————

(Name) ended up being quite interesting, keeping him entertained. At first, that all she was, entertainment for him until he got bored of her presence.

But after spending yet another night as her personal body guard while she went out for drinks… he felt the creeping feeling of protectiveness beginning to evade his mind. He didn’t like the way the other humans spoke with her, how they touched her with little regards to who she may belong to.

Lately, when she requested he’d join her, Kurapika preferred spending nights in at her home. She enjoyed this as well, calling their meetings “sleepovers”. He hated how he found that cute…

“Kurapika, do you want to sleep on the couch or my bed? I promise I don’t mind sleeping on the couch-“

He stopped her by raising an eyebrow. “I would not kick you out of your bed, (Name).”

She pouted a little, something that always softened Kurapika’s cold exterior. “Do you have any other ideas, my dear?”

(Name) thought for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows. “Hmm… oh!”

Kurapika blinked when she grabbed him by the shoulder. “We can share my bed! Ah, that’s the best way to have a sleepover, isn’t it?”

Oh, his naive and innocent little friend. Kurapika sighed, rubbing his temple. “Dear, I am a grown man and you are a defenseless woman. Are you sure?”

(Name) tilted her head, looking up at him. “Yeah… because you would never hurt me, right?”

If his cold, undead heart could race, it would. He melted, cooing softly as he caressed her chubby cheek. “Of course not, my dear. I would never hurt you, never.”

She giggled, tugging him towards her bedroom. “Then let’s get ready for bed!”

——————

It was hard for Kurapika to concentrate on sleeping when (Name) was curled up next to him, clinging to his side. Did this woman know what personal space was?

He sighed, reaching out to gently caress her cheek. She was so soft, so warm… and she smelled like home. Kurapika had never felt more at ease in his long, miserable life. He only was able to relax and truly be himself when he was with her.

She slept so soundly, even with him, a man eating monster in her bed. Kurapika had told her of his true nature a month into their friendship… yet she stayed with him.

“You’re beautiful, you know…”

Kurapika leaned forward, giving her forehead a kiss. “I love you…”

The words just came out… and he found himself blushing at the fact. He… loved her? Was that what these feelings were?

That explained how protective and possessive he was over her, how all he wanted to do was keep her tucked away in his embrace for all eternity. His lips found hers, and he gave her a gentle kiss as she slept.

When he pulled away, his eyes flashed scarlet. Kurapika wanted her more than anything, and for once his connection to this human had nothing to do with his need to feed.

Kurapika… he genuinely loved her. Her kindness, gentle nature, and understanding mind all made him fall head over heels. No human had ever accepted him for who he was, but she had with ease.

As he gently caressed her cheek, Kurapika vowed to love her for the rest of his life, to keep her safe and happy.

And as the sun rose, he made sure the blinds protected him from its harmful rays. Kurapika didn’t want to hide in his coffin, he wanted to spend more time with her. Now that he knew what he was feeling, all he wanted was to soak in her presence for as long as he could.

“Good morning, my darling.”

She rubbed her eyes, still waking up when she felt his hand on her cheek. “Mmph… Kurapika? Good morning…”

He was still in awe at the fact she didn’t flinch at his touch. “You don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

Kurapika caressed her cheek with his thumb, his scarlet eyes soft with affection. “This. Me touching you…”

She blushed a bit, looking away. “I don’t mind at all… don’t you know how precious to me you are?”

“Precious? To you?”

Kurapika leaned in closer, his undead heart soaring. “You mean it, (Name)? Truly?”

Her cheeks continued to get warmer. “Of course… why would I let you stay with me if I didn’t care for you? I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t just share my bed with anyone.”

It was Kurapika’s turn to blush this time. A vampire as old as him getting flustered over one human? It was embarrassing.

But he couldn’t help but swoon when she touched her forehead to his. “I love you too, you know.”

His face flushed an even brighter red. “Y-you heard that?”

“Felt it too.”

She smiled, pointing to her lips. Kurapika whined in embarrassment, hiding his face. He felt like a teenage boy again, embarrassed by his first crush.

“Mmph…”

His blonde eyelashes fluttered when she captured his lips with hers. Kurapika raised his hands to cup her chubby cheeks, lightly squishing them as he melted into the kiss.

She tasted so sweet, her tongue more delectable than any blood he’d ever drank. He felt almost drunk off of her affection, his eyes half lidded as he pulled her into his lap.

It wasn’t until she whimpered into the kiss and shifted in his lap that he realized he was hard. He felt humiliated, popping a boner from a heated kiss.

“Want you…”

His teeth grazed against her neck as he whimpered out his needs. “Need you, (Name)… so warm, wanna…”

Kurapika slipped his fingers into your panties right as his fangs sunk into your neck. You hissed in pain at first, but the feeling of him stroking your needy cunt was enough to have you mewling out his name. “K-Kurapika!”

He’d never pleasured a woman before, but she wouldn’t have guessed by the way he was touching her as if he had done it a hundred times already. His fingers sank into her just as he retracted his fangs, lapping at the small pinpricks in her neck.

“So pretty, like an angel…”

He pulled down his pajama pants just enough for his cock to spring forward, rubbing it against her needy pussy. “Warm… so warm, all wet for me…”

He pulled her down onto his cock, capturing your lips in a kiss. She could taste the metallic taste of her blood on his tongue, his hands moving her up and down on his cock.

“Squeezing me…” he said with a grunt, feeling her clench around him as she came.

“C-cumming, Pika!”

He kept moving her, his mouth moving to her pretty breast. His tongue flicked against her nipple, quickly taking the (color) bud into his mouth to suck on.

Kurapika left hickeys all over her, occasionally sinking his gangs into her skin. As he continued to fuck into her pretty cunt, his possessive feelings continued to grow until he was growling into her ear.

“Mine, all mine. No one touches you but me.”

He was almost feral, his teeth bared as he came inside of her. She was a panting mess, whimpering as his cum painted her walls.

After giving her a creampie, Kurapika calmed down a bit, feeling like he had claimed her in some way. He let out a soft purr, rubbing his face against her neck and licking the bite marks he had left there.

“Kurapika…”

She clung to him, letting him clean her up and apply small bandages to the bite marks he left. He felt slightly guilty, but that guilt was outweighed by the immense satisfaction he felt so see his beloved covered in his love bites.

“Mine, all mine…” he purred, curling up with her in bed. The two spent the rest of the day snuggling, never leaving each other’s side.

Kurapika had found a reason to keep living his eternal life, and would never let her go. His (Name), his love.

His everything.

[landososcar]

so high school ; JB5

pairing(s) ; jude bellingham x singer!reader , jude bellingham x student!reader

summary ; twitters favourite new(ish) artist drops her new album right during her school year.

warnings ; nothinggggg & mainly just fluff bc i love happy people

note ; SORRY ITS SHORT AHHAHA, i’ll post a new lando fic soon i just have no inspiration… ignore any dates that are wrong or don’t match - im lazy. also this is VERYYYY LOOSLY based off so high school lol (it’s mainly the aristotle line)

instagram !

liked by judebellingham, taylorswift, and others

youruser surprise !!!!! as an end of term present (for myself🤭🥳) and in honour of knowing the loml for 15 years, here’s 15 new songs for you guys to (hopefully) enjoy 😊 noah, thank you for trusting me and letting me join you on what might be one of my favourite songs ever!! i loveeee youuuu. && to my jude<3 thank you for inspiring me every single day of our lives. i love you bigger than the whole sky 🩵🩵 (guys he’s actually v v talented and he helped me write scared of my guitar, hard to sleep, and feels like) j, you are my safe place and these songs — especially the ones i haven’t let you hear yet — are for you.

ps guys idk how to only write happy songs but jude is the only one who makes me feel safe enough to express my emotions through my songs 😁 i looooovvveee him and am NOT 🙅‍♀️ breaking up with him. he is stuck with me forever💞

‘the alchemy’ is YOURS tonight at midnight 💓

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user1 WHAT

user2 YOU CANT JUST DROP THIS ON US WTF

oliviarodrigo my girl💞💞 i’m so so soooo excited😭

user3 GIRL I KNOW YOU DIDNT JUST CALL THE ALBUM ‘the alchemy’ FOR NO REASON. WHERE TF IS THE TITLE TRACK I KNOW YOUVE GOT HER SOMEWHERE

youruser jude and i love the alchemy the most out of all the songs and wanna keep her just ours for a little bit longer but maybe if you guys enjoy these songs i’ll let you have my baby

user4 YNAJDKJSKDKDIS

user5 WHATTTT songs did she not let jude hear omfg i need to know

youruser he’s heard them all except for daylight, paper rings & so high school lollll

judebellingham refreshing my spotify every minute til midnight you guys don’t understand she’s kept these songs in a VAULT

user6 jude i know you love spotify but apple music get new music 10 minutes early xxx

judebellingham just made an apple music account

user7 TEN MINS TIL THE ALBUM OF THE YEAR DROPS

taylorswift so so proud of you beautiful 🩷🩷

judebellingham I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH

judebellingham putting ALLLL of these on the pre-game playlist

youruser babe idk if some of these will pump you up before a game

judebellingham hearing your voice will pump me up idc how sad the song is xx

user8 why’s no one talking about how she’s in UNIVERSITY and dropped a FIFTEEN song album like …??? she’s INSANE. WHERE did she find the TIMEEE

user9 not to mention she lives with him in madrid and does school online coz her uni is in the uk

user10 she’s insane i don’t understand how😭😭

imessages !

instagram !

youruser just posted to their close friends story.

twitter !

instagram !

liked by judebellingham, trentarnold66, and others

youruser surprised my fav person in the uk for his england game and he scored for me 😆🩵🩵

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user1 she wrote “you know how to ball” and he said “yeah” then scored a goal and did a celebration for her😭

user2 zoom in on pic 6 and you’ll see me laying on the road waiting to be run over

judbellingham ‘unemployed girlfriend’ but you’re the greatest singer on earth while also doing online uni full time and you still make time to be able to come see me

youruser it’s coz i love you so so bad

jobebellingham you make me sick

youruser i love u too jobeyyyyyy

england our favourite visitor💙💙

user3 how does she do all this whilst going to uni😭😭😭

oliviarodrigo 💖💖💖

judebellingham I LOVVVEEEE YOUUUUU

user4 i NEED the top in pic 8 where is it from

youruser i found it on depop and HAD to buy it😭😭 i think someone made it x

chappellroan HOTTTTT (you not ur bf)

youruser I WOULD DIE FOR YOU MY WIFE💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

user5 i don’t understand how you write sad songs like the ones on your album if ur ‘in love with jude’

user6 jude deserves better than someone who’s so caught up on and still writes songs about her exes

user7 WHYS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE LYRICS SHE POSTED ON TWITTER IM GOJNG INSANE

user8 LITERALLY?/!;!!/;@:8@ LIKE ??????? “WHERES THE TROPHY? HE JUST COMES RUNNING OVER TO ME” IS SO JUDE CODED WHEN Y/N IS AT LITERALLY ANY OF HIS GAMES

user7 EXACTLYYYYY HE ALWAYSSS RUNS TO HER IMMEDIATELY AFTER HES ALLOWED TO DO HIS OWN THING. ITS FUCKING ADORABLE

user8 IM SO GLAD SOMEONE UNDERSTANDS ME

user7 were both insane let’s get married

user8 dm me right now wife

youruser liked the comments in this thread

imessages !

instagram !

liked by taylorswift, jobebellingham, and others

youruser lol little life update coz i’ve been m.i.a. for the last almost two months. 1: i went blonde again. 2: my man still as fine as ever. 3: got engaged or whatever lol. 4: slaying up exams. 5: i miss tour so i decided imma come back and see you all soon 🤭🤭 tour dates soon <3

ps in honour of becoming fiance or whatever🤗 the alchemy and 4 other songs are yours on the deluxe version of ‘the alchemy’ ,, out tonight !!!

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user1 WHAT THE FUCK

user2 GIRL LET US BREATHE

harrykane juudddeeeeee!!! congrats🥳❤️

declanrice mr bellingham that is a ROCK

user3 SHE DISAPPEARED FOR TWO MONTHS AND THEN CAME BACK AND DROPPED ALL OF RHAT ON HS

gracieabrams OMG WIFE IS GONNA BE A WIFE

user4 BLONDE YN IS BACK AND SHES A FIANCÉ OH MY GOD

judebellingham WIFE WIFE WIFE‼️‼️‼️

youruser not yet my love but so close🥰

judebellingham I CANT HEAR YOU MY WIFE IS AN ACADEMIC AND LYRICAL GENIUS

user5 she’s still writing break up and sad songs whilst engaged… so weird

user6 yeah and jude helps her,, he must be so disgusted right? seriously get a life and go touch grass

taylorswift so so happy for you 💓💓

youruser 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 i love you

user7 TOUR TOUR TOUR TOUR TOUR

england juddeeeeee💙 sooo happy for you two

trentarnold ❤️❤️❤️

user8 how girl just gonna casually drop a ENGAGEMENT announcement in the middle of a photo dump

user9 REALLLL LIKE THATS A BIG ASS RING TOO

noahkahanmusic YESSSSS🤍🤍🤍🤍

user10 HOWWWW is miss girl gonna find time in her schedule to do uni, make music, keep a healthy relationship, AND TOUR

judebellingham mrs*

my other works !

[alaskasmonsters]

𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (michael kaiser)

pairing: michael kaiser x gn!reader

contents: flirting, foreign language (german), teasing, petnames, enemies to lovers, mistaking attraction for hatred, reader has anger issues

w/c: 2.486 (istg this was meant to be short,,,)

summary: kaiser is infuriating. there is just something about him that made your blood boil. and when the boy started teasing you in german, knowing damn well you had no idea what he was saying you could only imagine what type of things he was saying about you.

a/n: oh look it’s my favourite trope. mistaking attraction for hatred. <3 kaiser speaks german in this one because *looks at hand* i do what i want :)) you’ll find the translations for what he says at the bottom of the post. they are pulled from my own brain (this is me trying to say i am in fact fluent in german shshshhs) also writing some of kaiser’s lines made me cringe bdhdh ngl he thinks he’s so hot 🙄🙄 and he is also the title is lowkey highkey misleading hahaha

Kaiser got under your skin like no one else did. He always had that particular skill. No matter what he did, no matter what he said, the boy infuriated you to no end.

Everything about him down to his stupid smirk, his playful tone, his insufferable confidence and sometimes even just the way he would look at you… there was nothing in the world that managed to rile you up as much as being stuck in the same room as that boy.

Unfortunately, this was something that happened quite often. Kaiser and you being forced upon each other, like the universe was playing some twisted game, waiting to see who of you would break first and go at each other’s throat.

And you were pretty sure you were losing.

If getting the chance to choke Kaiser could be classified as a loss, that was. Maybe it would be a blessing. Maybe you shouldn’t look a gifted horse in the mouth. Maybe you should just wipe that arrogant smirk off his smug face forever and call it a day. Then you’d be rid of the pest called Michael Kaiser.

The boy who managed to bring out the ugliest side of you. An angry side, a spiteful side, a childish side. A side you did not like about yourself. A side you’d rather ignore, push deep deep down to the depths of your subconsciousness and never let see the light of day again.

You had no idea what you did to deserve this. Why the universe decided to punish you specifically was beyond your comprehension. Haven’t you always been an upstanding citizen? Haven’t you always tried your best to not be an asshole, to not let your anger get the best of you? And yet, and yet, here you were once again, standing in front of Kaiser, who was regarding you with one of his trademark smirks, while you were struggling to keep your cool.

The boy knew exactly how to push your buttons and he never held back. No, he seemed to bathe in your attention, all satisfied smirks and gleaming eyes, and your anger only spurring him on in his mission to be the most infuriating man on the planet.

You didn’t even know who started it this time but you were blaming Kaiser anyway. After all he was usually the one breaking the unspoken rule that was put in place for the two of you that said you were not allowed to interact. Because of how little you got along you were also advised to avoid each other as much as possible.

Regardless of who was the initiator today, it didn’t matter. The damage was already done. The “damage” being you, standing here, chest swirling with burning hot anger and Kaiser, who had nothing better to do than make it worse.

Like fucking always.

You hated Kaiser, and most days you were sure he hated you, too. Still, it was always you who got upset with him and it was always he who liked to make a joke out of the whole situation. Probably because he knew it would only infuriate you more.

The boy loved pushing your buttons.

“Weißt du, du bist echt süß,” Kaiser purred, tilting his head to the side as he regarded you, “Einfach zum Anbeißen.”

You frowned, jaw clenching in irritation as you glared at his smug face, the mocking tone of his voice not going past you.

Even when he was speaking another language. Despite knowing full well you couldn’t understand him and that you hated it. He loved it, though. Speaking German when you were already angry, knowing it only made it worse.

Whatever insults he spout at you or names he called you in the other language, with a fake smile in place, you couldn’t possibly know. But you expected the worst.

“Michael,” you warned.

His eyebrow ticked up at the usage of his first name.

That was only a small triumph. He preferred being called by his last name, especially by you. He was a weirdo who got off being addressed with the title of an emperor, and you weren’t an exception. You knew it made his skin buzz, could see it in the way he’d lit up.

Kaiser nodded, seemingly to himself as he leaned his shoulder against one of the lockers of the dressing room. Why you were even in here was beyond you. Maybe today was the day of bad decisions.

“Und dann ist es noch so einfach, dich sauer zu machen, fast schon witzig,” he continued, not dropping his smirk.

His eyes narrowed at you mockingly, hands pushed deep into his pants pockets. He seemed to look relaxed but you knew he was watching you like a hawk, waiting for what you’d do next. If you’d leave, like you did many times, storm out and slam the door shut behind you or if you’d talk back, something you often couldn’t resist either.

Your jaw ticked. Knowing that Kaiser was well aware of how easy you were to anger and provoking you anyways was something that got your blood boiling like nothing else. Your heart was already thumping wildly in your chest, the sound of it rushing to your ears. Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, spurting you to act, to run or to argue or maybe to punch him. And worst of all, you could already feel the onset of shivers.

It was such a nasty betrayal of your body.

Whenever you got upset, you started shaking. It was most likely the adrenaline but if driven to a certain point of anger it’s something you couldn’t help. Your hands and your shoulders and your legs would start shaking and you’d stand there looking like a stupid chihuahua — at least Kaiser loved to compare you to one of those.

He loved to make fun of you for it. He loved to make fun of you for a lot of things…

Your body moved before you could think.

“You’re a fucking jerk,” you hissed, stepping closer until you were stood right in front of him and digging your finger into his chest.

Kaiser didn’t appear appalled or the slightest bit worried about your trembling form. His grin was sharp, eyes narrowed with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Your anger, like so often, only seemed to spur him on.

He leant forward, pushing off the wall, weight against your finger on his chest increasing as he came face to face with you. Before you knew it his hand was on your face. His fingers found your chin, pointer finger gently lifting it as his thumbs graced your cheeks.

You froze, heart skipping a beat in disbelief at the audacity of this man. Your face flushed, you could feel the anger in your cheeks now.

“Wenn du meinst, Schatz,” Kaiser mused, emphasizing the last word and leant closer, your noses barely a breath apart.

Your hands tightened into fists by your side. You should move. You should push him away, maybe slap him while you were at it but you found yourself frozen, completely shocked by the intrusion of personal space. That was unfair. He couldn’t do that when you were angry.

Wait, no! He couldn’t do that at all!

Kaiser hummed, watching the conflict wash across your face with interest, lifting your chin up higher and dipping his head lower.

That was the moment your brain decided to bid its goodbye, your brain cells frying with its departure.

You had no idea what was happening. Whether Kaiser had just seen something on your face and gracefully decided to take it upon himself to remove it with his lips, or if he had finally thrown his last bit of dignity out of the window and was planning to bite you.

Which didn’t make much sense, because out of the two of you you were certainly the one struggling to keep yourself from being violent with him. He had never even come close, unless he was as good at hiding it as you would like to hope you were.

Kaiser’s face was still moving closer.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized what the only logical follow up to this action was and you stopped, not moving away when you easily could have, waiting for Kaiser to seal your lips with his.

But before it could come to that Kaiser stopped, waiting a moment, before drawing back, observing you out of hooded eyes and taking in your…whatever expression you must be making that moment.

If you had to guess it was probably similar to whatever a crashing Windows would be looking like.

“You look like you really want this ‘jerk’ to kiss you, though,” he murmured, still only centimeters away from your lips.

Before you could decide to do anything, like actually push him away or maybe pull him closer or any other insane thing, Kaiser giggled, fucking giggled, before pulling back. He didn’t withdraw without planting a kiss against your forehead, though, making you flinch.

What the-

You gaped at him, blinking. Then you realized what just happened.

You had almost let Kaiser kiss you.

You. had. almost. let. Kaiser. kiss. you.

You had almost let Kaiser kiss you!

No, wait, this wasn’t even all there was.

Kaiser had almost kissed you!

Kaiser, the most infuriating man on the planet, the asshole that got off on fighting with you, had almost kissed you. No, he did kiss you! On the forehead. He had planted his lips there, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. Which it wasn’t!

Who even did that? Who kissed their…their…enemy anywhere?

Your hand touched the space above your brows his lips had touched, as you stared at him. He gave you a challenging look.

“You’re….you’re so? You’re unbelievable!” You stuttered, completely out of your depth.

The both of you had entered new territory with this action of his and you had no idea how to act.

“Oh? Am I?” he asked unconcerned.

You glared at him, raising your finger then changed your mind. Instead you turned around and started stomping towards the door. You could not be dealing with this right now.

You simply refused.

Kaiser chuckled, snatching your wrist. “Come on, don’t be like that. If you wanted me to kiss you you should have just said so.”

You clenched your jaw, somehow managed to talk yourself out of actually hitting him and instead only ripped your wrist from his grip.

“I didn’t !”

“Mh?”

“I didn’t want you to kiss me, you asshole,” you bit out, turning to look back at him over your shoulder, face lowered and eyes narrowed to give him your best glare.

Kaiser looked unimpressed.

“Is that so?” He tilted his head to the side, grin cheeky.

“Oh now you can speak a language I understand,” you growled, winning the inner fight against your voice of reason and facing him again.

“Magst du es nicht, wenn ich deutsch für dich spreche?” He feigned hurt, placing his hand over his heart. “Das verletzt mich echt.”

You wanted to bury your face in your hands and scream. But you didn’t. Because you were strong. So, so strong. And so brave about it.

“You know I hate that. Stop being so fucking infuriating.”

He snickered. “Why are you even so mad at me all the time?“

“Because you’re infuriating!” You deadpanned.

“And yet you find me irresistible.”

“Irresistible not to beat up.”

“How crude.”

“Shut up, already?”

With every moment the urge to wipe that self-satisfied grin from his face became stronger and with it your resolve to hold back slowly started to crumble.

Kaiser seemed to notice. Just like a shark who smelt blood he could always detect your weaknesses.

“Or what?” The challenged, stepping closer, voice lowering into a murmur, “You know, if you don’t stop being so rude I might actually have to kiss you to shut you up.”

You gaped at him, trying to step back and gain more distance between you when he took another step forward but your feet were rooted to the spot.

Was it really so easy to catch you off guard? Was Kaiser really capable of reducing you to such a mess with the threat of a kiss?

The boy laughed softly, enjoying whatever expression you must be making with your face right now. Maybe this time it was similar to a cornered animal.

“I said shut up,” you repeated, but your words had lost their heat and your face wasn’t just flushed from anger anymore.

A few moments ago you had fantasized of punching Kaiser in the face, and now…now he was saying those confusing things like they had been on his mind for a while now and you were unable to shift your focus anywhere but his slowly approaching lips.

Why did he even think of kissing you? You hated him. He hated you. What kind of fucked up game was this?

Kaiser bent forward again, suddenly directly in front of your face. How he had managed to get so close again was a mystery to you.

“Make me,” he murmured, a challenge visible in his eye.

You snarled, your anger finally taking the upper hand as your arm shot forward, fingers burying themselves in the fabric of Kaiser’s collar. You considered pushing him away, forcing him to give you space. Instead, and for no reason you were able to understand you pulled, yanking him down. Then you pressed your lips to his.

Kaiser‘s mouth felt warm against yours, lips both chapped and soft, the hand now on your waist firm. He pulled you closer, returning the kiss with fierce

You shouldn‘t question this. Not right now…maybe never. Yeah, never was probably for the best.

“Maybe you don’t hate me as much as you pretend you do,” Kaiser hummed against your lips.

The words managed to bring you back to your senses. At least partly. At least enough for you to realize what you were doing. And what you were doing was kissing Kaiser, you, who had been given a chance and still chose.

Had you actually just done this?

“You! I- Fuck you!” You hissed.

This was…You hated Kaiser. You hated him. He made you angry. On purpose! What were you doing here…kissing him?

You loosened your grip around Kaiser‘s shirt and used your flat palm to push him away. The boy didn‘t stumble, barely took a step back when you had already turned around, ready to run off.

Kaiser‘s amused laughter followed you as you pushed through the door and rushed down the corridor. His last shouted words, “Bye Schatz!” accompanying you as you disappeared behind the next corner.

You couldn‘t believe what had just happened.

You had kissed Kaiser. And the worst part about it? You kinda wanted to do it again.

translations:

“You know, you’re really cute. I could eat you right up.”

“Not to mention how easy it is to rile you up, it’s almost funny.”

“If you say so, honey (=verbatim ‘treasure’).”

“Don’t you like it when i speak german for you? That hurts me.”

“Bye honey (=verbatim ‘treasure’)”

taglist: @crystal-lilac @duf3h6237 @hufflefluffslytherin @chucky-26o1 @lordbugs

[transforming]

Dane's Unexpected Vacation

Here's a little something I put together, as a commission for @tf-lover, who's been such an amazing friend of mine in the TF community, with a shoutout to his amazing work and his collaborations with @mrwavellswaps! Enjoy!

-----

It had been a particularly long week for Dane De Bruin. 

It was nearly a year ago when his life changed forever, from being a skinny young teacher who was tired of his life and having to deal with annoying teenagers, to a bona fide magical hunk, and now having a boyfriend in the form of the marvelous Mr Wavell. That was a whirlwind, magic carpet ride of a journey all on its own, not only becoming such a stud but also discovering he probably had powers of his own. Dane worked and trained with Mr Wavell, in the real world and in their home in the pocket dimension, to figure out what magic he has deep within him, as he channeled Wavell’s powers to help others find true happiness and fulfill their hidden desires.

He knew that loads of guys had a kink for soft, squishy pecs like his, and as much as he could make money appear from the snap of his fingers, he also thought about the thousands of pounds he could earn just from showing off his man-tits. That said, he began venturing into social media, posting at least once a week on Instagram for thirsty fans who’d be willing to pay him anything to support him, and even send him cute drawings that would especially highlight his knockers. It got a kick out of him, and in a way, he was helping people feel satisfied and fulfilled, and he was feeling great about that.

On top of all that, most recently he had been helping out Mr Wavell collect testimonials on the Homo Bomb he had dropped on the town of Bellmare, dividing up their research across the town’s residents. It was quite fascinating to see how the magical bomb changed the townspeople, varying from the simple change of straight men turning gay, already gay men turning into their fantasies or crushes, to the rare anomalies of women becoming men. The beach town was definitely a notable case study for the books, and it was worth examining on how happy people could be with the help of sudden magic being dropped upon them, all thanks to his boyfriend.

-----

However, in the past few days, Dane started to notice that he was getting quite tired, and it threw off everything he had been doing. He felt less motivated to go to the gym, and without a nice enough pump to show off, he delayed posting anything new on Instagram. Even channeling Wavell’s magic for his own use has been more strenuous than normal, and with Wavell busy collecting his side of testimonies from Bellmare, they haven’t had much time to themselves: whether it was to have a bit of fun in the bedroom, to work on strengthening Dane’s magical abilities, or simply to have lunch together.  It was similar to the draining feeling he experienced long before when he was a teacher, dealing with these pesky kids who didn’t listen to him, or dealing with an admin that ignored his needs for support in the classroom – except that he was drained from everything that he enjoyed doing as Dane. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Dane knew he was being stretched thin, and that he was on the verge of majorly burning out. He was in desperate need of a break. One day, when he finally mustered up enough courage, he eventually sat down with his boyfriend.

“Wavell, babe, I need to talk to you,” Dane said, looking forlorn and exhausted.

Wavell walked over from the kitchen with two glasses of red wine in his hand, handing one to his lover. “What is it, Dane?” he asked as they both sat down.

Dane sighed. “It’s been so amazing spending time with and falling in love with you babe. I’ve loved every moment we’ve spent together, and honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else. The magic, our relationship and getting to channel your magic, the sex…” Dane chuckled a bit. “Even this Homo Bomb has been crazy interesting to observe.”

Wavell smiled and wrapped his arm around Dane’s waist as he took a sip of his pinot. “And I love you so much, baby. I still can’t believe you’re my boyfriend after all this time. How long has it been? What, nearly ten months since I made you into Dane?”

“Yeah, just about.” Dane smiled, as he took a sip of his wine. “I love you too, babe. Like I said, everything we’ve done together has made me feel so much happier, and life feels so worthwhile with you…” Dane paused, hesitating for a moment, but enough for Wavell to notice.

“I can sense a ‘but’ coming in,” Wavell said, kissing Dane’s cheek. “Dane, don’t worry, you know you can always tell me anything.”

Dane sighed once more, as he slumped his shoulders and finished his glass of wine in one gulp. “I can’t exactly pinpoint why, but I’m just feeling really drained. I’ve noticed it in the little things. Not feeling enough hype to work out, I don’t feel as strong as I know I could be after all our training and after using your powers, and in general I just feel a bit tired.”

Wavell looked down, thinking about it for a moment. In his experience, he knew that magic was enough to keep one energetic and dynamic, but he’d also heard enough stories of other warlocks and possessors of magic to know that not getting enough rest and relaxation could completely destroy their magic and revert them back to what they used to be, or even worse, drain them out of existence. A few of his own friends had disappeared in the past. He pulled Dane close, kissed him softly, and let him rest his head on his lap, 

“You definitely need some R&R, Dane,” Wavell replied, smiling sweetly as he caressed Dane’s hair. “Your powers are still relatively new, and I don’t want to see you completely drained out when you’re still growing them to their full potential.”

Dane felt tears well up in his eyes, and after a deep breath, he felt them stream down his cheeks. “I know, babe. I just… I didn’t wanna let you down.” Dane sniffled, while Wavell rubbed his V-tapered back, comforting him.

“You’ll never let me down, babe. Never. But you shouldn’t ever be ashamed to tell me you’re tired, or to ask for a break when you need one.” Wavell wiped the tears from Dane’s cheeks, as he ran his hand down Dane’s arm to calm him. 

Wavell smirked as he lifted Dane’s head off his lap and embraced him. “You deserve this break. And luckily, I know just the guy to help you out.” 

Dane raised an eyebrow. “Who is this guy?”

Wavell chuckled. “His name’s Drew, and he runs this new resort where magicians like us can go to relax. It’s a new venture he’s exploring, an idea that came to him when he was taking a break of his own after running Transformation College years ago.”

Dane’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘The guy who created Transformation College is back?’, he thought. “I thought he’d disappeared long ago. He’s around again?”

Wavell nodded. “Yep, he’s back, and he’s hoping, since he’s running a resort, he can take it a bit easier than last time. The college really burnt him out,” he chuckled, “but I think Drew’s Transformational Resort could benefit you. Plus, knowing him well, he’ll cover all your expenses.”

Dane smiled, and kissed his lover with a renewed passion. “I fucking love you Wavell.”

“And I love you more, Dane. You deserve a break, and don’t worry about the Homo Bomb testimonies, I can cover that. For now, all you need to do is relax, yeah?” Wavell smiled brightly. The couple got up and headed towards the front door. Holding hands, they stepped out of the house and towards a little tropical hut with a bamboo door on the eastern end of Wavell’s pocket dimension. “Here we are. Just straight through that door and you’ll be at the resort.”

As he held the doorknob, Dane looked into Wavell’s eyes one last time and held his hand. “I’m gonna miss you. I wish you could come with me,” his voice quivered as he said that to his lover.

“I’m gonna miss you too, babe. But I know if I’m gonna be there, you might not be able to recuperate fully, considering we still don’t know what your magical powers are, if you have any. Plus, I don’t know if we’d even be able to relax at all with how much sex we’d have,” Wavell chuckled. He squeezed Dane’s hand once more, kissing him softly, before Dane opened the door and entered through.

-----

Once he was fully through, he was quickly blinded by a bright white light. Dane closed his eyes tightly, then when he opened them again, he found himself on the shore of a pristine white beach, on a secluded island completely surrounded by miles and miles of ocean. He could feel the water wade between toes, and the sand stick to his soles, as he looked around, the door to Wavell’s dimension nowhere to be seen. He then noticed that he was shirtless and just wearing a pair of beach shorts, which surprised him. “Woah, this is trippy,” he muttered to himself as he walked off the beach onto the grass further in, seeing a collection of small beachside villas, two larger buildings, and what appeared to be a lobby, where a young, shirtless and handsome stud stood behind a desk, holding a small flower in hand.

Dane walked over to the desk, but before he could speak, the young hunk turned and smiled. “Dane De Bruin?” he asked.

Dane stepped back. “H-how did you know?”

The handsome stud, who looked around college age, smirked. “Wavell told me everything before you arrived.” Dane chuckled, Wavell was always one step ahead of him. “I’m Drew, by the way,” the himbo-looking stud said, reaching out his hand for Dane to shake.

Dane reciprocated the handshake. “Pleasure to meet you, Drew. Did Wavell already tell you why I’m here?” he replied. Drew simply nodded, and quickly turned around to grab a passion fruit tequila welcome cocktail for Dane, handing it to him.

“We offer a lot of services, but our main purpose here at Drew’s Transformational Resort is magical rejuvenation, helping magicians such as yourself regain control over your powers, and come back feeling relaxed and reborn,” Drew smirked naughtily as he spoke. Luckily, Dane didn’t notice. Drew led Dane down a small, rustic path through the resort, passing by the restaurant and then the spa, all of it looked amazing and luxurious. They stopped at a villa, and Drew opened the door. It was a simple space, but a beautiful one too: a king-sized bed with an extremely soft coconut mattress that felt like sleeping on a cloud; an outdoor shower surrounded by a wall filled with orchid vines; a door that led to the back porch, which had its own swimming pool and jacuzzi; and further out, Dane’s own little cove, which was surrounded by coconut palms and hibiscus trees. It was all spectacularly beautiful.

“Wow,” Dane said, blown away by it all.

“I really worked hard on curating unique experiences for all my guests,” Drew replied, smiling as Dane walked around his villa and took it all in. “And first on the agenda for your Ultimate Relaxation and Rejuvenation package is a whole spa day.” 

Dane turned and beamed at Drew. “Lead the way then Drew. I’m so excited for this.”

Drew smiled back and handed Dane his key card for the villa, before he led the way back up the path to the spa. As he looked around, Dane noticed a staff member at the hotel that looked like Drew. Then another one that drove a buggy. And then another at the front desk of the spa. The Drew working at the spa chuckled. “Yep, this whole resort is run by me.”

Dane laughed, impressed. “That’s amazing. So you could basically clone yourself?”

Spa-Drew nodded as he took things from Reception-Drew, leading Dane into a massage room. Dane quickly stripped out of his beach shorts and hopped onto the massage bed, while Spa-Drew placed a pair of AirPods into his ears, which began to play calming jazz music, canceling out all the noise and letting Dane doze off to sleep as Spa-Drew got to work. Once he knew that Dane was completely asleep, thanks to the binaural beats he added to keep Dane asleep in a deep trance, Drew took out a magical kit of essential oils, ointments, scrubs and tools. He smirked, and opened the bottle of plumeria essential oil.

Rubbing some between his hands, Drew began massaging Dane, kneading his back muscles and defining them even more till they were shredded. Reaching his shoulders, Drew built up Dane’s traps, and broadened his shoulders just a bit, his hands defining Dane’s delts, then worked his way down his arms and sculpting them like clay, defining them even further till they looked more youthful and strong. As Drew rubbed the oil all over Dane through the massage, a golden sun-kissed tan began to seep across Dane’s body, washing out his pale white skin until it looked like he spent a lot of time at the beach, and all his body hair receded, leaving him smooth and supple like a baby.

Drew smirked as he peeled off the towel that covered Dane’s ass. Lathering his cheeks up with more oil, he massaged them and rounded them up till they were bubbly yet firm with muscle. Finishing up the backside, Drew knuckled down on Dane’s thighs, shaping them till they were like well-defined tree trunks, and softly pressed on his calves till they gained a more aesthetic diamond shape. Upon reaching his feet, Drew squeezed every part –stretching Dane’s toes, knuckling his soles and pressing his ankles, till Dane’s feet shrunk by just a bit to accommodate his now slightly shorter stature.

Drew took a good look at Dane’s backside before turning him over, lifting Dane up with ease as if he were a paper doll. Once Dane was fully turned around, Drew chuckled as he continued pouring more oil all over Dane’s body. Fondling Dane’s pecs, Drew squeezed the soft, supple man-tits till the hairs receded and the pecs were more sculpted and firm with muscle, then worked down on his abs and sculpted each one till the ridges were sharply defined and looked like a washboard. Since the legs were technically done, Drew simply ran his oiled-up hands over the quads and shins, which caused any remaining leg hairs to completely disappear, then lifted up Dane’s arms to pour a strong, musky oil into it, rubbing it into his pits until the rest of his body began emanating the same intense smell.

Dane’s body was completely transformed, from looking like a big muscular Daddy to a young bodybuilder physique, but Drew wasn’t quite done yet. He smirked as he lifted the still-sleeping Dane across the room to a parlor chair, then grabbing the rest of his tools. First things first, Drew applied some shaving cream onto Dane’s face, massaging it deep into his jaw, then pulled out a razor and began shaving off all of Dane’s stubble and precious mustache. No stubble or facial hair was left behind, as Drew left Dane’s face squeaky clean like a baby. Grabbing the aftershave, he mixed it with some of the plumeria oil and massaged it into Dane’s face. It began to reshape, as his skin began to pull tighter as it regained its youth, pulling Dane back a few years in appearance till it looked like he was in his mid-20s, but the aftershave prevented him from growing any facial hair again. 

As he kept up his work, Drew massaged the upper part of Dane’s face, the golden tan creeping up and washing his face, as Drew reshaped Dane’s eyes to have a more almond-like, distinctly Asian shape, while plucking out his eyebrows to define them further and make them look less bushy. Carefully, Drew opened Dane’s eyes and popped in a pair of dark brown, permanent contacts, and pierced Dane’s ears with simple silver diamond studs, making him look even more youthful. Finally, Drew pulled out a pair of scissors, a shaver and a comb, and cut off Dane’s luscious locks till his hair was shorter, with tapered fades on the sides, like a jock’s type of haircut, then topped it off by rubbing some coconut oil into hi hair until Dane’s rich brown waves turned jet black and straight. Dane was too deep in slumber to notice anything amiss, or even feel what was going on, he just felt very relaxed.

Once it was all finished, within just an hour of Dane’s arrival at the resort, Spa-Drew handed Dane over to one of the other Drews, who took him back to his villa, and dressed him up in a tank top, gym shorts and sneakers, and pulled out the AirPods. The magic of the massage and the oils Drew used had definitely rejuvenated him, and had helped rebuild the strength of his magical powers, but gave him a completely new appearance.

It was around sunset when Dane finally woke up, feeling plenty rested after having slept for most of the day. He smiled. “Fuck me, that –” Dane shut his mouth. His voice. It sounded different. Younger, for sure, but it wasn’t the deep, gravelly voice he knew to be his own. He looked down and saw a fitter, more shredded body than his, and his eyes widened. He rushed over to the mirror, and finally saw what had happened – he looked nothing like how he came in – he now had the appearance of a young Asian jock.

“Do you like the new look?” Drew said, leaning against the doorframe leading to the cove. “Enjoy your vacation, Dane. Just relax, get away from it all, and enjoy the new body – it’s yours until you get bored of it!” Drew chuckled as he ran off, leaving Dane stunned.

How will he explain this to Wavell when he goes back?

-----

I hope you all enjoyed this story!

Speaking of commissions, I will be opening up commissions to everyone very soon - keep your eyes peeled for a detailed post on it!

You can also tip me over on ko-fi, if you can't or don't want to commission! You don't have to tip me, but any support is always welcome.

[spacelazarwolf]

y’all i found it, i found the post that originated the claim that i’m a ZionistTM and it’s even more ridiculous than i expected.

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this is, of course, the same person who labeled me a MisogynistTM for making a half baked joke reblog basically saying “jewish standards of masculinity are different than white western standards of masculinity” then cited orthodox judaism, a community i’m not a part of, as why Actually The Jewish Community Is Horrifically Misogynistic And Bad (as if i haven’t faced misogyny from jewish cis men before???????)

anyway, my post in this screenshot didn’t once mention israel. it didn’t mention zionism. it was talking about antisemitism. i turned off reblogs because people were making it about zionism and israel, which was derailing my original point. i set a specific boundary and people kept crossing it, so i turned reblogs off and blocked people who wouldn’t leave it alone. absolutely nothing about that could possibly indicate that i’m a zionist unless you think that diaspora jews setting boundaries about being forced into a conversation about israel, especially one where we are essentially being blamed for the antisemitism we face because of the government of a country we don’t even live in and have no control over (there’s a phrase that, it’s called dual loyalty and it’s been getting jews killed for decades) or if you think simply talking about the history of antisemitism and current rising levels of antisemitism is somehow “zionist propaganda” in which case you might want to get your head out of your ass and question why you’re agreeing with literal nazis. also bonus points for this person literally just blatantly blaming jews in the tags for the rise in antisemitism because we’re apparently not being antizionist enough to deserve basic human decency and safety! not even trying to hide it anymore huh!

and of course it worked like a charm bc now, months later, you have people saying this:

“the jew is trying to disguise himself as one of you to trick you!!!!!! he is actually evil and trying to manipulate you to further his evil (((zionist))) plans!!!!!!!!!! beware!!!!!!!!!!!” which is literally just repackaged antisemitic tropes that are centuries old. i’ve never interacted with the person in this screenshot in my entire life, and yet they seem to think they have insider knowledge into my Evil Zionist Plans to infiltrate the community and spread Zionist Propaganda because they interacted with one gentile witch that threw a hissy fit about being told not to be antisemitic in discourse about gentiles appropriating lillith. this gentile decided that every single jew who disagreed with them was a zionist, and when i told them it was antisemitic as fuck to call any jew they disagree with a zionist they went on about me being a “raging zionist” and “faking being queer” for DAYS. so it’s not a mystery where the person in this screenshot got the “ooh scary (((zionist))) pretending to be queer and trans to spread his evil (((zionist))) propaganda” rhetoric from. it’s word-for-word from the gentile witch who was pissed about fucking LILLITH DISCOURSE.

bc the thing is, these ppl don’t actually care if i’m a zionist. if they did, they would be engaging with what i’ve said (which is practically nothing because i knew the second the word israel touched my blog that this would happen — which is why i didn’t want people going on and on about israel on a post about antisemitism). they know that labeling a jew a zionist is an immediate death sentence in progressive circles. they know it’s the easiest way to discredit a jew you don’t like. because it doesn’t matter how many times you say “no, i’m not” you will be forever tainted in the eyes of gentiles by that accusation. that’s why they made the accusation in the first place. and so i will continue to not share any of my thoughts or opinions other than “i’m pro palestinian liberation” and “i’m not a zionist” and people will ignore that to play yet another game of Zionist Telephone to target a jew they don’t like. it’s not the first time it’s happened, to me or in general, and it won’t be the last time. i just hope people seeing this and reading this will help people understand how fucked up and antisemitic it is.

so yeah. if you see accusations floating around that i’m a zionist, this is where it came from. a situation that is textbook dual loyalty, being punished for setting boundaries on my own blog, and people who hate trans men jumping at the chance to demonize one with one of the easiest tricks in the book as soon as they see he’s also jewish. the fact i keep having to address this when the origin of the rumor is literally just antisemitism should heavily inform how seriously you take random claims online that a jew is a zionist. most of the time it’s just blatant antisemitism, and very often it’s a way to silence an unrelated conversation that person was trying to have.

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Jealous Type ❙ ES Megatron x f!robot reader ❙ NSFW 18+

Word count: 2000+

Warnings: Smut ( Oral and spike in valve ), jealous behaviour, mentions of past relationship, some angst and happy ending. NSFW 18+.

Notes: Honestly, I love the Megatron from earthspark. We all see a side to him we haven’t before and I think it’s beautiful. Thanks anon for senidng this in. It turned out much more fluffy. Also I made the reader robot as you didn’t spesify, so hope that’s alright. 🥰

Added notes: I had so many issues posting this. For some reason this wasn’t appearing anywhere. This will be my fourth attempt in posting it. Had to test around with the tags to see what the issue was. I’m unsure why this happened, and I'm still unsure. But just checking the feeds and it seems to be working now, so it just fixed itself I think? Posting again and fingers crossed it behaves.

Coffee ☕

You both came from the same lifestyle back on Cybertron. You followed him during those times during the rebellion. You joined his side when he formed the decepticons, no matter what, you swore to serve him. That’s how things grew more between you two, and you both grew to even love one another. But like all good things it doesn’t last forever as the war rages on. There was never any time for either of you, and you drifted apart so bluntly. Nonetheless you continue to follow him, no matter how much it stung when he merely treats you like one of his soldiers and not his lover anymore.

For so long it continues, and suddenly he changes and sides with Optimus. At the time you were pissed. After everything, all the sacrifices, everything you did for him, what was it all for? As expected the decepticons pretty much turned their backs on their former leader, ignoring his excuses. You weren’t upset about the cause but more like Megatron for dragging you through every struggle for so long, only to leave you still hanging over the edge. What you hated more was that you still loved the bastard.

You chose to not hang around, leaving the decepticons and Megatron to their silly games and hide around on the new planet you reside on. Earth. Oddly enough you find a peaceful beauty on the planet, and choose to use this to try and recover yourself from all that time ago. It doesn’t last though, of course it doesn’t. The all spark was gone, or sent back to Cybertron, and the space bridge was destroyed. You were all stranded here. Fantastic.

It doesn’t take you long to figure out about G.H.O.S.T. and how they’re tracking down decepticons. Megatron was offering changes, to work together, for the sake of their world and species. The words from Optimus that somehow got hardwared in that thick lug nut processor of his. You don’t want to be part of that, not yet at least. It’s not that you didn’t understand why Meagtron was working with Optimus, you did, but he hurt you and you hated to simply give in.

You avoiding being captured was about to run out eventually. G.H.O.S.T. find you and drag you back to their base where you’re about to be put in prison, but this is stopped by Megatron. He vouched for you, much to your surprise, before asking you the big question. Will you join us?

Your answer is yes.

Now you worked with G.H.O.S.T who you didn’t like or trust at all. There is something off about them, and even Megatron made a few comments about his mistrust of them, but Optimus asks to give them a chance to prove themselves. It’s not like there is much you can say or do anyway, just work as a team.

Megatron is different, older you remark to yourself, but it’s like the war is still raging in his processor in a silent never ending scream. He looks tired and worn down, yet he continues to thrive being the Megatron you know. You want to talk to him about everything, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to do this. Expressing is something you haven’t done in a long time and there are reasons you stopped so long ago. You decide to leave it and just try to move on. This proves to be near difficult, so you distract yourself however you can.

Flirting. It just started as harmless flirting. You didn’t think much of it at the time. Optimus didn’t seem to mind either, even looking rather flattered with himself, but you did catch Elita sending you a few glares if she might’ve overheard. You know not to tread on that turf, not that you were interested anyway. Though it wasn’t just Elita that noticed but Megatron as well.

“Why are you playing around with Optimus?” His stern voice is heard and you turn to face him through narrowed optics.

“Excuse me? I’m not playing around with anyone.”

“You’re flirting with him. Are you smitten by him?” His tone grows annoyed causing you to scoff lightly in amusement.

“No, and even if I was, why does that bother you?”

“You know damn well why it bothers me.”

“What’s this? The mighty Megatron is jealous? Grow up. There’s nothing between you and me anymore, you made that very clear. I can flirt with whoever I want.”

“Me? We were at war! You wanted so much more that couldn’t be given. You decided to end things because you weren’t patient enough.”

“Don’t you dare put the blame on me! Yes, I wanted more, I wanted us to build a future together but you were so focused on leading the decepticons there was no time for us.”

“How could we have built a future in the middle of a war?!” He’s booming now. The old Megatron flickered across your view for a short moment.

“I don’t know, but you certainly didn’t try very hard. You gave up on us and I chose to ignore it all because I believed in you still. Now here we are, and all for what? For you to side with Optimus. I loved you, I gave myself to you, I dragged myself in all sorts of smelting pits for you! You broke my spark, and it still hurts.”

“You’re making it all about you.” His answer took you off guard. “You think you were the only one that was hurt? Don’t pretend that you are the innocent one. I wanted you to be patient for us but you couldn’t do that and decided for yourself that we were over. You never spoke to me about it, never mentioned it ever again, just pretended all was fine. Now that hurt me.”

Your optics beam with tears as he steps closer saying all this. How dare he? It wasn’t your fault! He’s the one that chose to ignore you.

“Go frag yourself.” You can only whisper. He’s so close to you, which causes you to shove at his large chest. “Frag you!”

You don’t know how it happened, but he’s suddenly kissing you. You feel him holding your shoulders firmly as he presses his lips against your own, feeling desperate.

You react by pushing him away and slapping him. He looks defeated when you do this. You allow everything to sink in and you suddenly feel bad for hitting him. Reaching up you touch his cheek plating where you had hit him. He doesn’t flinch, and instead you watch as his optics shuttered closed and lean into your touch, letting out a warm purr that vibrates against your servo. You still loved the bastard.

Stepping closer you move your servos along his shoulder plating. Your height difference never affected your ability to touch or hold him before. He leans closer again, slowly this time, grazing his lips against your audio making you exhale softly from the tender contact. He moves his helm back in front of you and you’re the one to kiss him then, deeply, desperate yourself.

Suddenly he moves you both into the nearest room. Empty. But at least it wasn’t out in the open for anyone to see within the base. He presses you against the wall and lets out a groan against your lips, glossas dominating one another before he’s on his knees before you so fast.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Winning you back.”

You feel both his glossa and dentas against your inner thigh then, nibbling and sucking against your soft metal skin as he raises your leg up onto his shoulder.

“Oh…” You can only gasp out which is soon followed by a growing moan, arising arousal rushing through your entire frame making you quiver in delight. When you feel his glossa run up against your closed panel you suddenly retract it and press your exposed valve down against him.

Megatron lets out a deep moan that shakes from your aching valve as he tastes your sweet fluids, rolling his glossa into your depths and uses that along with his vibrations against your node, stimulating your valve and worshipping you on his knees.

Your helm tilts back against the wall as you tighten your thighs around his helm, grinding down gently against his face as you press your servo at the back of his helm, keeping him there as you ride yourself against him. Heated gasps leave you as your rocking motions increase, as do the movements of his glossa.

You can feel yourself growing more hot and aroused, your overload quickly building as you continue to rock yourself in the perfect sync with his glossa, before it’s suddenly gone and he’s standing back up.

“I was getting close…” You snarl at him through annoyed optics.

He only chuckles light at your annoyance. “Darling, I only wish to savour every bit of you. Besides,” He leans closer and whispers into your audio, “don’t you want me to frag you?”

You respond by letting out a shaky vent, hearing his panel retract and watching his extensive spike eject out between you both. Oh you’ve missed him.

“Yes, frag me senseless.”

Grabbing hold onto his shoulders again you wrap your legs tightly around his broad waist, feeling him kissing you delicately before he slides himself inside your drenched valve.

Megatron’s cable stretches you fully, every ridge and pulse flutters against your inner walls as your node grinds against his base. With your arms wrapped around the back of his neck you gaze lustfully into his optics before kissing him again more firmly, rocking your hips down along his spike causing you both to moan deeply.

He holds you steady against the wall and begins to increase the pace of his thrusts, slow and strong thrusts that push every inch of his length inside you, pushing out heated moans from you over again.

Your back scraps against the wall he had you pressed against as you held on tightly around his rocking large figure against you. At that point you didn’t care who would hear either of you, and relished every thrust delivered to you. He continues this pace before finally increasing his thrusts, grunting firmly as he grew close to his own overload, practically rutting into you.

“Megatron…frag…oh primus!” You can’t help but cry out as your node is stimulated against him, your overload suddenly comes crashing through your entire frame and lets out a blissful cry into his neck.

He thrusts into you firmly a few more times before he stiffens and you feel his trans fluids soak your inner depths along with a deep rumbled moan muffled into your shoulder by him.

He keeps you between himself and the wall, his twitching spike still buried deep in you while you savoured every moment with him. Gently, he presses his helm against the front of yours and lets out a long and deep vent.

“Can we try again?” You hear him ask you, and you can’t help but smirk softly.

“Us? Or interfacing?” He responds with a hearty chuckle.

“Both.”

You already know your answer. “We can.” You grab his chin firmly between your digits then. “But I swear, hurt me and I’ll personally offline you myself.”

“I expect no one else to do such a thing.” He leans his helm into your digits before kissing your inner palm making you smile tenderly. You missed that stupid old handsome face.

“Good. Let’s continue this in your quarters. I want you to frag me into oblivion.” You feel yourself smirk before he removes himself and lowers you down. He’s growing semi hard again you take notice.

“Let’s go than, darling.” He fixes himself up but you know it’s uncomfortable for him before you finally accept his offered servo on your own and let him lead you to his private quarters.

Perhaps there is hope for you both to have a future.

[scaly-freaks]

a cage she'd live in forever

ignore me just randomly re-posting stuff into the vacuum i guess (i'll probably repost my rhaenicent fic next)

Aemond’s stoic manner doesn’t last.

Alicent took one look at her son during the confrontation with Rhaenyra, and understood he was pretending to be a man. He was forcing himself to grow up faster in the face of a cold, callous court, just as she once had. It broke her heart.

Now he’s back in King’s Landing, in the safety of his own chambers, and his voice cracks when he asks his mother to help apply salve to his eye. He doesn’t like the servants touching it.

Each crack in Aemond’s young voice drives her further into madness.

Madness to Alicent was never a legible concept.

It’s tucked away into the neat folds of her green sleeves, a problem for later.

She’s no Targaryen. There is no fire and blood to reckon with here.

And yet she sees her child suffer and she wants to burn down this cursed castle with herself in it.

You let this happen to him. You should have been more vigilant. You knew how obsessed he was with those beasts. YOU DID THIS.

Viserys plays no part in her judgements. The old man gave his seed and withered into the peripheral. These are her children. Alicent has the right to be possessive over them at least. Nothing else in her life has ever truly been hers.

Her title of ‘queen’ belonged to a woman more well-loved by her husband. Her name of ‘Hightower’ belongs to the men in her family. Her regal status could be snatched at any moment should the king die.

But her children she bore and birthed, they are hers.

Even so, they still ask for their father. They haven’t yet learned.

“Why does he like them more than he likes us?” Aegon mumbled to her when she can get a sober word out of him. “I thought he wanted us. I thought he wanted me.”

In a rare moment of affection – slapping Aegon was the worst thing she could have done in that room, she sees that now – she stroked the back of his silver head and made a soft, comforting sound.

“He does want you. He always wanted you.” She lies to her children with ease, just like she lies to everyone else.

When Aegon was born, no matter how it traumatised her to give birth so young, she had celebrated, thinking life would be better now that she was the queen who had managed to birth a male heir for the king.

It changed nothing.

Helaena was born and her depression grew worse.

She tries to forget what she’d done days after the birth, as if it were nothing more than a horrible nightmare. But she can’t forget the screams of her ladies-in-waiting, how they’d dragged her off the ledge. Helaena had been in her arms, shrieking miserably.

Alicent had begged her and begged her to stop crying, that she could do no more for her, that they were both helpless.

At some point, the crying faded into nothing, and the next thing she knew, she was standing on the window ledge, staring down at Maegor’s Holdfast, with her baby girl clutched to her chest.

There’s no doubt in her mind now that she would have jumped if they hadn’t found her.

She was dragged back to her cage, and her father came to rebuke her for her ungratefulness. She didn’t know how to tell him what was wrong. She didn’t know when everything went so perfectly wrong.

Aemond was born when she was happiest. She had grown a little older, become more well-adjusted. And a second son was further proof of her fertility, as well as another pillar to hold up both House Targaryen and Hightower. He was a beautiful baby, wide-eyed and gurgling. He was the happiest baby she’d ever had.

The happiness wears away the older he grows, but sometimes, when she cups his chin in her palm and makes a kissy sound, he beams, and she sees the precious infant again.

He isn’t smiling now. His shoulders are hunched, and he won’t look up, not even when she speaks to him.

Helaena sits on the corner of his bed, glancing up from time to time as she mumbles under her breath.

Alicent looks at her and doesn’t understand her, but there’s something about the girl no one can help but love. And Alicent does, painfully. The guilt of that window ledge will never leave her.

Helaena worries more than she lets on and will often wander into a room and sit in the corner like a watchful ghost when someone in her family is hurting. Alicent can’t count the nights she’s cried into her hands only to look up and see Helaena’s large eyes peering at her from the shadows. It never fails to make her laugh through the tears.

“Is Vhagar fed?” She coaxes Aemond on his favourite subject. She has no love for the dragon, but she uses her to get her son to speak.

He grunts, fiddling with his fingers. She wonders what confusion is now curdling in his young head. All her children are sad in their own ways, as sad as their mother, and she doesn’t know what to do. Leave well enough alone, Otto tells her, and Alicent can’t help thinking he might be right. He did the same with her after all.

“You were brave, Aemond. Your nephews would never have held their own the way you did.” Alicent wipes her fingers clean of salve and lifts his face up. He stares at her with his one, pale violet eye and she feels a burst of rage upon seeing the wound. It’s so strong it makes her nauseous.

“Even our uncle noticed,” Helaena hums. She looks up when she realises her mother and brother are staring at her. Then, she shrugs, stroking the dead centipede in her hand. It died this morning on her pillow. “I think he liked your bravery. But he would never say it.���

Daemon’s baleful, amused eyes flash across Alicent’s vision and she recalls her childhood infatuation with him. She grew out of it and happily so. It does not surprise her that Daemon would look at his brother’s children and see himself in them. He’s always boasted of himself as stronger than Viserys. It would entertain him to see a boy so like himself come from a woman he deems strait-laced and dull and a brother he considers weak.

“Our uncle,” Aemond scoffs. “He slept with her.”

“With whom?” Alicent’s head snaps around.

“Our father’s only child,” he spits out, venom in the words.

Rhaenyra.

“How do you know this?” Her eyes are wide and terrified, picturing a scenario where Aemond bursts out with this information at the wrong moment and gets punished.

“I was waiting to slip out and go to the beach, but I couldn’t find a good time. I saw them leave together. I know what they went to do. I’m not a child, mother.”

“Aemond, you must never speak of this again.”

“Why not?” He gets to his feet, all Targaryen rage and impulsivity. “Why must we always keep our mouths shut while she gets to do whatever she wants?”

Alicent breathes in, willing herself to stay calm.

Taking both his hands in hers, she kisses them and holds them against her cheek, reminding herself that all her children are still here. Daeron is safe in Oldtown. Her eldest three are here with her. They’re not gone yet. Daemon can’t do a thing to them. Daemon, not Rhaenyra, because even she knows her childhood friend would not willingly cut the throats of her own siblings.

“There will come a time when we will no longer live in fear of what Rhaenyra and her brood do or say to us,” she tells him. “But it is not that time yet.”

“Do you mean when father dies?” Helaena pipes up.

Alicent hushes her. “Don’t say such things out loud.” Her eyes dart to the door. Larys has spies everywhere, and though he might act innocuous with his crooked smile and haunted eyes, she knows him too well to think he’s loyal to her. He’s loyal to himself alone, as proven by the deaths of his kin. “But I assure you, Aemond, your patience will be rewarded, not just with a dragon, but by the respect of the entire realm. You are my warrior, my boy, my prince. Nothing will ever change that. Understand?”

Aemond grinds his teeth – it’s a habit she’s trying to help him out of – but he nods, slow at first, but then, with a greater degree of certainty. He believes her.

She glances at Helaena, a wordless signal that they should leave Aemond alone for a while.

At the door, she turns to look at him one last time, and smiles.

He brings peace to her heart, not because she loves him more than the other children, but because she knows he sees outside of himself, just like she was trained to. He will protect his siblings if Alicent is no longer there to do so.

Aemond is her favourite because he is exactly what she pictured when she imagined what it would be like to have a son.

Now they see you as you are.

Alicent wakes in a cold sweat, Rhaenyra’s vicious violet eyes burned into the backs of her eyelids. Her dreams are cruel to her. One moment Nyra’s head is in her lap, her young face alight with pleasure at the thought of flying away with Alicent and finding places no one else will ever reach. And then there’s a knife in her hand and Rhaenyra is bleeding out all over her green dress.

She can never control her dreams. Either she hurts Rhaenyra by the end, or Rhaenyra rips off her mask and shows her what she is.

A frightened young girl turned into a cold, enraged woman.

Her brother Gwayne used to reassure her she would be an excellent wife and mother to some very lucky minor lord. They were children of a second son, it was the most they could expect, even if their father was the Hand. And Alicent had revelled in the imagery. Gwayne was always kind to her, loving her the way younger brothers do, without question and without strife.

She never felt worthy of his simple love. She never believed she would be as good a woman as he believed she would. But often, on nights she can’t sleep, she thinks of all Gwayne told her and measures herself against it.

If she measures herself against what Rhaenyra promised she would grow to become, she’ll cry herself to death.

You are the sweetest person I’ve ever known. Everyone in this court looks at me and they see a princess, not a prince. They see what I am not, what I should have been. But you look at me and I feel strong, as if even I could bear the weight of my father’s crown. Do you know the worth of such a quality, Alice? You give strength to those who feel forsaken.

That last sentence was what echoed in Alicent’s mind the night she rushed out of the Great Hall, away from Rhaenyra’s bloodstained wedding, to find Criston Cole kneeling in the godswood, with a knife angled towards himself.

She wonders what Rhaenyra would feel knowing she herself is the reason Criston still lives.

A shadow stirs under her door and she hears the familiar clink of armour.

The guards change at midnight, and he comes to stand by her door, ever unable to sleep when the night is darkest. Alicent has memorised the sound.

Some nights, she can’t sleep until she hears the clink. Her heart doesn’t settle in the right place until Criston moves in front of her rooms, as if he’ll protect her from the hurricane waiting outside.

But no matter how she tries, tonight, sleep evades her.

She gets up and summons one of her maidservants, asking for a cup of mulled wine.

When the door opens, Criston moves an inch to the left, as if expecting trouble. Their eyes lock.

Alicent clutches her robe tighter around herself, suddenly aware of how little she’s wearing in comparison to her daytime garb. Her hair is loose from its coif, and falls in unruly curls down her back, large eyes betraying an age that is still not old enough for the troubles she bears.

“Ser Criston,” she calls, before he can close the door.

He walks into the doorway. “My Queen.”

She inclines her head to indicate he enter. He does so without a flicker in his expression, ever prepared to serve.

“Are you well, my Queen?”

Her palms are sweaty. She’s never been more aware of anything in her life. Whether it’s his presence or the lingering aftermath of her dream, she does not know.

“I could not sleep.”

His brown eyes peer at her through his lashes. They’re so large, they appear wholly sincere, but she’s seen them turn cruel at the mention of Rhaenyra. Never has a man confused her as much as Criston Cole.

Daemon, enigma as he seeks to appear, is fairly predictable within his impulsivity. If one wants trouble, look to the Targaryen prince with not a chip, but a giant oak tree on his shoulder. He’s always certain trouble.

But Criston can pass for serene and dutiful and be something totally different underneath.

Yet with her, Alicent believes he is at her service. She just often has doubts as to the precise reasons why. It can’t all be because she saved him from killing himself.

“The maid – “ he begins.

“Yes, she’s gone to fetch me a jug of mulled wine. I was hoping you would partake of it with me, Ser Criston.”

He bows his head in agreement.

Alicent’s mouth twitches in a sad smile.

He never suspects she may have ulterior motives.

Even to a man as guarded as this, she is laced so tightly, he would never suspect otherwise.

She’s never wanted to be like Rhaenyra – at least not to be in her situation – but now she does. To be able to say something charming, quick-witted, and break the ice, it would be a relief.

The maid returns with the wine and Alicent pours for the knight, setting the cup beside him.

“I appreciate how much you do for my children, Ser Criston.” She gestures for him to sit, and when he does, carefully seats herself beside him.

He keeps his eyes on the ground when he nods. “It is my duty, Your Grace. I will always work in the favour of the princes and the princess.”

“You go above and beyond.”

Now he looks at her and she sees a spark of surprise. “Have I overstepped, Your Grace?”

Alicent’s face softens, and she reaches to rest her hand on his gauntlet. “No. No, you have not. I am commending you, Criston. Not everything is a question of your ability. I will never doubt that.”

She hears him breathe out, but he still appears discomfited. She takes a sip from her own cup, hoping to encourage him to drink from his. A few seconds pass, and he mirrors her action. They smile at each other. Hers is wider, and his is small, but grows the longer he lets himself gaze into her eyes.

“May I ask what troubles you, my Queen?”

He knows. He must.

He was there in the room after the fight between Rhaenyra and Alicent was broken up. He’d watched her cry with Aemond’s bloodied face tucked against her neck. He was the one who had guided them both out, away from the court’s judgemental eyes, somewhere safe to grieve alone.

“I dreamt of Rhaenyra. Of our younger days.”

He keeps his face carefully smooth. “I remember that you were good friends. She always spoke highly of you.”

At least he’s not calling her a spoiled cunt anymore.

“She spoke well of you too,” Alicent admits. “Though I never saw when it was that she grew a particular affection for you. I was adept at reading those signs in her. With Daemon it was youthful infatuation. I was guilty of it too for a while. But you, I had no idea.”

A muscle in his jaw pulses. He’s staring into the cup of wine as if it will tell him what to say next, or what to do.

Alicent waits.

“I don’t think she held an affection for me the way I did for her,” he says at length. “I misread her cues. Had I known, I would never have offered what I did on our way to Driftmark. And she’d never had had the chance to prove just how little I meant in her world.”

“Did you – “ Alicent pauses, clears her throat, as if this isn’t something she should ask. Criston glances at her, expectant. “Did you like her a lot?”

His mouth tugs upwards with a tinge of bitterness. “It was my first time at court, away from war. And I was in the service of a princess. I’d heard one too many ballads, and she had a sweet smile. I saw everyone underestimate her. I saw her father harangue her to accept marriage proposals she didn’t want. It tangled up my views on love and duty, and my protectiveness grew into something more. It was youth’s folly on my part. It wasn’t until later that I learned she came to me after her uncle left her stranded in a brothel down in the city.”

Alicent nods, a knot stuck in her throat. She still remembers the pain in her stomach when her father first told her of the news, and that he was being banished from court for it. She remembers the way Rhaenyra’s voice trembled when she dubbed it a “vile accusation.” And yet it was never far from the truth.

Now Alicent understood exactly why Rhaenyra went to Ser Criston afterwards.

She knows this man has failed to forgive Rhaenyra’s youthful indiscretions, just as much as he refuses to forgive his own, but she feels pity for him regardless.

There’s no sense of betrayal towards the princess. Rhaenyra stopped feeling pity for Alicent the moment she was coerced into becoming her new stepmother. Alicent has ceased feeling that stab of guilt whenever she spoke against the princess in her absence. Life goes on.

“Everyone commits folly in their youth. It is of no consequence.” She says the words but doesn’t truly feel them. Her own youth was wasted in biting her cuticles till they bled and praying she did no wrong in her father’s eyes. Hardly a youth at all.

“Not you, my Queen.”

Alicent almost flinches in surprise. Criston has a look of amusement on his face. It takes her a moment to process, and then she laughs, uncertain. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever committed a folly as a child.”

“I have. Plenty of them. My father was always admonishing me for them.”

“What your father deems follies, aren’t really follies. He watches Aegon with the same focus he once used on you.” Criston’s implication is clear.

Just like Aegon, Alicent was once a pawn to move around as Otto saw fit. It doesn’t feel right to allow a member of the Kingsguard to absolve her of her perceived sins, but she leans into the feeling, letting it envelop her in comfort.

“I regret one thing in regard to you,” she mutters, looking away before the heat of the wine reaches her cheeks.

“What’s that?”

“The way I referred to you when you took of your helmet during your first tourney here.”

“’Gods, he’s Dornish’?”

Alicent’s eyes widen. Criston’s voice ripples with laughter. “Rhaenyra told me. I found it amusing.”

“I did not mean it to denigrate you,” Alicent says quickly. “I swear. I just meant – I hadn’t seen many Dornish folk growing up, and I wasn’t expecting – “

“It’s alright, Your Grace,” Criston cuts her off, eyes crinkled at the corners.

He looks young again, the way she remembers.

Alicent heaves a sigh, and then laughs, embarrassed.

They both drift into a comfortable silence, each glancing up while the other isn’t looking. It happens three times before their gazes finally meet and then suddenly, neither can look away.

She tries, but the urge to drown in the dark chasm of his eyes is more enticing than anything her husband has ever said or done to her.

Criston looks away first, but it’s to reach under his gauntlet. “I brought something. I thought the young prince might like it. Losing an eye at such an age is a great blow. I know he wishes to become a better warrior, and I fear it may create problems.”

Alicent’s face falls at the mention of Aemond’s injury. “Yes, well, there’s nothing to be done. His eye is gone.” Her voice cracks, just like her son’s had.

Criston stops fiddling with the gauntlet and stares at her. It’s as if he wants to reach across and comfort her with something more tangible than words.

But instead, he removes what he was looking for and holds it out.

It’s a leather eyepatch.

“I had it made. It’s well-padded and it will fit the circumference of his head. I know he is self-conscious about the scar, but once the wound heals, he can cover most of it.”

Alicent doesn’t speak. Her eyes glimmer with an emotion she can’t put a name to and her fingers tremble as they take the patch from Criston’s palm. Her bottom lip quivers, and she sniffs, trying not to give into the weight of grief upon her chest.

“Your Grace,” Criston murmurs, troubled at her reaction.

“Don’t – “ she seals her lips, and squeezes her eyes shut, letting the tears fall free. “Don’t call me that. Call me Alicent for once. I hear the name my mother gave me so little these days.”

He swallows, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Alicent.”

She inhales, a shivering breath, and clutches the eyepatch to her chest. “He’s going to look like a Braavosi ruffian,” she laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. “It would be highly improper.”

Criston shrugs and grins. “The boy deserves to go around however he wants after the trouble he’s had, no?”

She can already picture the scowl on her father’s face when he sees the patch.

It’s what convinces her to set aside her qualms.

Aemond will adore it. He has a knack for going straight for the thing he’s not supposed to, and just as with Vhagar, he’ll continue to make those decisions well into the future. At least Alicent can give him her blessing on this one.

“Thank you,” she says, and her voice barely breaks above a whisper. “You are good to me. To us.”

They smile at each other, and a picture of utter serenity invades her mind’s eye.

In it, her children don’t have silver hair, but red locks like her own, and deep, beautiful brown eyes like his. Their home is small, but happy, and each night when he returns, all four of them run to him, trying to tell him about their day at the same time. Alicent lingers in the back, waiting for her turn, knowing it will always come.

“Your Grace?”

The formal address shatters her vision like an arrow through glass.

She blinks, bringing herself to reality, to the quiet, dark room, so spacious and luxurious.

And him.

He’s closer now, and his hand is halfway up, as if he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch her.

Alicent takes it without thinking and kisses the back before pressing it to her cheek.

He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t say a word. His fingers tighten around hers and his armour shifts as he leans in.

Alicent doesn’t lift her head. She’s afraid of what she might see in the reflection of his eyes. She’s afraid she’ll see herself, yearning, something she’s long forced herself never to do.

“Alicent.”

“I won’t,” she whispers. “I won’t make you break your oath a second time. I’m not like her. I’m not her.”

“I know. I know.” He sets his other hand beneath hers, supporting it. “You’re not Rhaenyra. You are yourself. And I chose to serve you for that, not because I owe you my life and my dignity.”

“Rhaenyra made her choices out of youthful folly, and I am a grown woman. This is wrong.” She lets go of his hand, but he tightens his grip before she can take hers back. It’s not an aggressive hold, but it’s enough to keep her reined in close to him.

“I would never encourage you to do anything you did not want to, my Queen,” he says, and she now sees what Rhaenyra saw in him.

That wide-eyed devotion, the darkness stirring just underneath, as if he would do anything Alicent asked, no matter how cruel.

How could anyone say no to such intensity? Except Rhaenyra used him as a replacement, and Alicent has nothing to replace. She is a grown woman, but in this aspect, her experience is lacklustre.

“I don’t know what I want,” she chokes out, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

“That’s not quite true, is it?” he says kindly.

She shakes her head. “I want a great many things, most of them to do with my children. But for myself, I don’t know what I want. Perhaps I want to sleep. Or to be at peace. Or maybe I want never to worry about another thing as long as I live.”

Her voice breaks as she remembers Aemond wiping his tears with haste so she won’t see them, and Aegon turning away to hide how her words trouble him, and Helaena – sweet Helaena – hoping her mother will understand what she means without having to try and explain it all the time.

And then she looks up at Criston and he is looking at her, only her.

Not Alicent the queen, nor Alicent the mother, nor Alicent the daughter.

Just Alicent.

She leans in for the space of a long sigh, and kisses his lips, seeking a taste of what it is that makes him see her that way.

Criston doesn’t let her pull back. His hand is behind her head – gentle, as if she were made of crystal – and his lips move like warm silk, pressed over her mouth. He kisses each corner, and then the bow of her upper lip, his breath soaked into hers. The scent of mulled wine is strong, but underneath, she tastes something sweeter. She wonders if she’s imagining it.

He manoeuvres her with an ease that steals her breath away.

One moment she’s on the seat, the next she’s half on his lap and his arm is braced around her slender waist.

She’s never been kissed like this before, like the centre of the universe is hidden between her lips and he means to steal it.

“Criston – “

His name is muffled in the wet slide of his tongue over hers, and she isn’t sure what she means to say next. He doesn’t give her the chance to think about it. His hand braces against the side of her neck, pulling her closer, until she’s caged.

This is a cage I would live in forever.

It takes the will of the gods to end the kiss.

The second she does, his mouth grasps at her chin, her cheek, her jaw, her throat, reaching for anything she’ll give him. And for a few heartbeats, she lets him have it all. She pretends her body is his to do with as he pleases, and that no one will ever come through that door to break them up.

She pretends she is his, and he is hers.

And then her body strains back, breaking the restraint of his arm.

Criston releases her immediately, breath coming short, eyes glittering with arousal.

Her own face is no better. Soft steps retreat, taking her back until she finds the bedpost. It’s the only thing keeping her knees from giving out.

Criston stands, and she’s suddenly aware of how much larger he is. It doesn’t help the heat spreading across her body, or the heartbeat pulsing in her throat. Her cheeks are still wet with tears.

“We can’t,” is all she manages to breathe out.

He nods, a sincere gesture. He understands.

Alicent thinks then that she might die to be understood like this always, that she’d die for him.

His white cloak whispers across the floor when he approaches.

A coarse hand rests ever so soft against the petal-skin of her cheek. It brushes down towards her chin, tilting it up. He studies her face as if she were a finely woven tapestry, each thread made of precious gold and silver.

“Your tears are as beautiful as the rest of you,” he murmurs. “But would that I could, I’d banish them from your eyes forever.”

Alicent trembles, trying not to let out the sob building up in her chest.

He presses a kiss to her forehead, chaste, and his hand drops away her face.

He leaves and behind him, lingers a poignant scent she’s only ever breathed in the godswood.

It’s holy.

“What’s this?”

Aemond looks confused at the velvet pouch she dangles before him.

Aegon is sitting on a nearby chair, sober for once, and Helaena is curled up by the fireplace, making swirling patterns with the corpses of dead bugs. Aegon keeps cringing and telling her not to bring them too close to his feet. She threatens to throw one in his open mouth when he’s asleep.

Their bickering continues in the background as Alicent pulls Aemond close. “Open it.”

He does, and removes the patch with a blithely confused face. “What is it?”

“It’s a patch for your eye, you dolt,” Aegon calls.

“Aegon, don’t be mean to your brother.”

“Why not? He told father I knew about the bastards. I got barked at.”  

“I was protecting mother,” Aemond snaps.

“Yes,” Alicent says quickly, before it can get out of hand. “And I know you were as well, Aegon. Thank you.”

Aegon opens his mouth to say something, frowns, and then grunts. Alicent gaze lingers on him for a moment, feeling that familiar sadness, but then she’s distracted by Aemond putting on the patch. He laughs in delight as he darts towards the mirror.

“I look like a Braavosi sea lord!” he exclaims.

“This is what he’s giggling over!” Aegon laughs. “No more ‘I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon?’ Pretentious twat.”

Helaena chooses that precise moment to throw a dead bug at Aegon’s head, and the room erupts into chaos.

Alicent’s first instinct is to shout and stop them, order them to behave like the royalty they are.

But then she notices the maidservants giggling, and she lets it carry on. Helaena, emboldened by her initial attack, chases her older brother with a whole tray of bugs, and Aemond stands at the centre of it all, doing his best impression of a Braavosi water dancer.

Alicent smiles so wide her face hurts.

They look like children.

It won’t last, but they look like children again.

[ghulehunknown]

Terzo x F Reader - Spanking, Degradation, Breeding

Thank you katfish__ on Twitter for bringing my words to life! Check out her full NSFW version here.

**WARNING for explicit content below**

One Missed Text

Summary: You haven’t returned Papa’s text! - or did you? Well either way he’s very upset with you for seemingly ignoring him, and he intends on teaching you a lesson in manners.

CW/Tags: male masturbation, spanking, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (P in V), rough sex, degradation, possessive behavior, breeding, blood, aftercare, spit kink

Word Count: 3.3K

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day, lovelies! I’m bringing back an older fic of mine from AO3 that I haven’t posted here before. I hope you enjoy it!

Poring over text, you sighed. Sister would have your head if you didn’t complete your work by Friday. You were searching for hours in the Unholy Books for references to give her on the week’s upcoming Black Mass sermon: gluttony. That was not nearly as exciting as lust – unless, of course, you were gluttonous for a slice of your beloved. Speaking of, Terzo had not returned your last text message. You were hoping for a midday romp to break up the monotony of the day’s tasks.

You were both teasing each other throughout the day, as you often did on the most boring days to keep each other entertained during the endless meetings and duties. The other Siblings would tease you when they saw your face light up. “Another text from Terzo?” they would ask, knowing full well the answer. What was the subject matter of those messages?…well, that was a secret after all.

“Please…” he had begged through text today (mixed with several undecipherable emojis) after you sent him a quick nip slip photo. “I must have you. Come to me.” That was over two hours ago.

“Name the time and place,” you responded. You saw the text bubbles indicating he was typing, over and over, until they finally disappeared. Frustrated, you tossed your phone back into your purse and continued perusing the books. It felt like forever had gone by. You picked up your phone again just to check for a notification. Nothing. And it had only been 5 minutes. He was so eager before…what happened?

…

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, Terzo was pacing back and forth in his office. He stared at his phone, no notifications staring back at him as if mocking him. He huffed and put his phone back in his pocket, and paced around some more, continuously pulling out his phone every 30 seconds.

His dearest had sent him the most salacious photo (which he immediately saved to his photo roll)…and he felt the heat rising in his trousers. Thank Lucifer he had no more meetings so he could fuck your brains out in his office.

He had responded to your last text inquiring the time and place, “Now. My office, ovviamente. Where else potrei scoparti in pieno giorno cosi forte da dimenticarti il tuo nome?” but you had not responded and he was growing more and more frustrated by the minute. Was the last text too much? Surely not; you had fucked in every scenario before – slow, fast, loving, passionate… aggressive. Maybe you weren’t feeling his assertive tone today? Oh, how he hated the increased paranoia and anxiety that came along with being in love; it drove him mad.

He opened up his camera roll, where he saved all your cheeky photos to his ‘hidden’ album. Texting the password to the album with his left hand, he started to thumb the erection forming in his pants. He leaned back in his office chair and kicked his legs up on the desk, scrolling through the photos while unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants with his right hand. He grabbed a few tissues from his desk and tossed his head back, imagining your mouth on him as he stroked himself faster and faster.

…

It was nearing 5 o’clock and you still had not heard from him. The day was over, and you decided to take up the Siblings’ offer of joining them for dinner and drinks. You headed over to the mess hall and grabbed a bite to eat, chatting with them over a pint and trying to enjoy Ghoul karaoke night (Alpha was “performing” in a series of barking and hissing). You felt a bit dejected, drowning your sorrows in French fries and lager, but tried to brush it off – figuring Terzo got busy during the day. Ever since he had been anointed Papa you saw less and less of one another.

You decided instead of feeling angry, you would reward his hard work with the best fuck he had ever received. You downed the rest of your drink to give yourself a little extra liquid courage, waved goodbye to your friends, and headed back to yours and Terzo’s bedchamber.

When you walked in, you found him leaning against the dresser, cigarette in his mouth and lighter in his hand. Just before he lit up, he caught your gaze and rolled his eyes. You hadn’t realized but your demeanor had changed as soon as you saw the cigarette, your brow furrowing in disdain.

“Come to piss on the fun again?” he huffed, shoving the lighter and unlit cigarette back into his pocket and walking into the bathroom.

“What?” you asked incredulously, following him. (“Not in our room!” you exclaimed the last time he lit one up in bed with you post-coitus.)

“See what you make me do!” He fumbled around in the top drawer of the double vanity, pulling out a nail file, and began to file his nails a little too forcefully.

You stood in the doorway and propped yourself against the doorframe.

He pointed the nail file at you. “You left me hanging today, amore.”

“Me?” you asked, still incredulous at his lack of self-awareness today. “What about you? I was waiting all day for you to tell me where to meet you.”

“Amore!” he exclaimed again, throwing his hands up in the air. His anxieties were building up in him like lava. “So I’m the problem again? I told you to meet me in my office. I waited for you all day – you see how crazy you make me? I even had to take care of this myself – ” He motioned down to his pants, a small tent already formed in his trousers.

You looked down and smiled at the sight. You couldn’t help feeling a little amused. In a way you felt powerful to have such an effect on him.

“Oh you think it’s funny, eh? Well we’ll see how you like being punished for such insolence.”

“Terzo my love, I was waiting for your response all day,” you assured him, but he wasn’t having it.

He exclaimed something unintelligible in Italian under his breath, throwing his hands into the air again then continuing to aggressively file his index and middle fingernails on his right hand. His face turned mischievous as he eyed you out of his peripheral. He turned to you and asked, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Your face blushed instantly as you knew where his mind was headed. The arousal that had been building up between your legs all day suddenly came trickling down your thighs.

“Don’t act so innocent, amorina,” he said with a smirk. “I know you like to tease and brat, but I expected you to behave today.” He walked around you slowly, like a predator stalking its prey.

You gulped. “Check your phone,” you piped up. He rolled his eyes once more in response. You reached forward, trying to get to his pocket, but he easily swatted your hand away. “Check it!” you urged. “I would never leave you unanswered.”

He seemed skeptical but pulled out his phone and went to his messages. “Oh,” he said, suddenly changing tone. “It appears I did not hit ‘send.’”

“See?” you said triumphantly, trying to get past him to look at his screen, his futile attempts to keep you from looking failing. He tried to erase the message quickly but you read it just in time, blushing again at what he would’ve sent you.

He shook his head as if shaking off the embarrassment of his unnecessary theatrics. “This changes nothing. You should have known where to come and to obey me as soon as you saw the last message.”

You smiled at him, amused that he did not yet have the poise nor the patience that his older brothers had as head of the Satanic Church. He might’ve had a few forehead wrinkles, but sometimes he reminded you of a younger man. He certainly had the impetuousness and stamina of one.

You stepped back into the room, hooking one leg seductively over the leather armchair in the corner, exposing your upper thigh through the slit in your habit. “That’s right,” you said, running with his game. “I was so disrespectful to not heed your call right away.” You took off your veil, tossing your hair back and running your hands through it to smooth down the flyaways.

As you were busy trying to look as seductive as possible, he slid right up next to you, his hand reaching through the slit in your habit. He inhaled the scent of your hair and groaned under his breath, his hand pawing at the hem of your panties. His hand trailed against the cloth, feeling your wetness already saturating it.

“I thought of you all day,” you whispered against his neck, feeling his breath on your cheek, the smell of his spearmint gum washing over you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders affectionately.

“I can tell,” he said. His touch could be so soft and delicate – when he wanted to be – he had already snuck two fingers past the hem of your panties at your entrance. He brought his hand up his under his nose, thumbing your slick in between his fingers. He turned you around roughly and unzipped your dress in one motion. He tore the fabric off you, exposing you in nothing but your bra and underwear.

“Take them off,” he said, gesturing towards your panties. You obeyed swiftly, and tossed them to the side, wearing nothing but your bra now. As you did that, he took off his belt and kicked off his shoes. He folded his belt and snapped it, almost threateningly.

You eyed the belt from the side, your arms steadying you against the armchair. He had never used a belt on you before; you were only used to the palm of his hand, and he was usually quite gentle.

He saw the glimmer of fear in your eyes and came up behind you, placing the belt on the arm of the chair beside your elbow. “I’ll be gentle for today, amore,” he assured, slipping his hand between your thighs, teasing your wet entrance again. Instinctively, your shoulders relaxed and you sighed, relieved.

“But still you must be punished, no?” He took your chin in his free hand, forcing your face to the side, closer to his lips. You nodded in his hand, moaning slightly as his fingertips roamed around, pushing inside your entrance teasingly. “You see how horny you make me, mmh?” he whispered into your ear, groaning on the last syllable. He pressed his clothed erection against your bare ass, his cock twitching in his pants.

“Open,” he commanded, squeezing your mouth open. He gathered up a wad of saliva in his mouth and spat into your mouth, then clamped your mouth shut again. “Swallow.” You gulped. “That’s Papa’s brava ragazza. You’ll do anything I say.”

You eagerly anticipated his next move, wanting to feel his warm seed rush inside you after waiting all day for him, while simultaneously wanting him to take his sweet time antagonizing you and denying you your pleasure.

“What is my punishment, Papa?” you asked enthusiastically, hoping for him to continue using you.

“I think naughty girls deserve to get spanked by their Papa, don’t you?”

You whimpered slightly and nodded, your chin still in his tight grasp. “Yes Papa,” you feigned lament, hanging your head slack in his palm.

He released his grasp on you and withdrew his fingertips from your cunt, and you slumped over the armchair, holding yourself up by your elbows.

“You disobeyed me today,” he said warningly, palming your ass forcefully – yet still softly – massaging the area before striking again. You nodded in agreement. He cracked his belt again for dramatic effect. Crack! This time the leather hit you harder than his hand, stinging your skin a little. CRACK. You moaned louder, feeling the pain more now. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you mia piccola puttana?” he laughed, sticking his middle finger inside your cunt and feeling more wetness trickle out. He took his finger out and wiped your juices on your back before continuing.

Relentlessly he continued, spewing various obscenities at you in Italian. “Who do you belong to, whore?” he kept asking. “You, Papa!” you would shout through stifled yelps. Every few strokes he would sneak in a gentle touch to your raw skin, soothing the redness.

“You come to me when called next time,” he said. “I do not have all day to wait for some filthy slut to pleasure me. Nor do I have the time to take care of myself day in and day out.” He threw the belt to the side, opting for a more personal touch.

You whined in agreement, preparing for the next strike.

SMACK! he spanked you harder with the palm of his hand. “Mmm!” you mumbled, your flesh throbbing. SMACK! he struck you again.

“I am in meetings all day tomorrow,” he continued as if he was not ruthlessly punishing you and just striking up normal conversation. SMACK.

“Ah! Mmm – then I will be waiting for you here when you return after a long day.”

“No, you’ll be on your knees like the good little slut you are,” he said. Smack!

“But Sister will see – ah! – and anyone else in the room – ” you began but he stopped you.

“Silence!” he hissed, striking your ass once more, even harder this time. “It’s time you put your whore mouth to use and show everyone who you belong to, who you worship.”

All you could do was nod in agreement as he struck you across the ass again. Your skin was raw and aching, and you longed for a more delicate touch. Almost as if reading your mind, it seemed Terzo had ceased the punishments – for now. You peeked behind you and saw him hurriedly take off his clothes. Soon he was undressed, and soothingly caressing the red skin on your rear.

“Are you well, amore?” he asked in dulcet tones, lulling you into relaxation. “I know that was rougher than usual.” He touched your back comfortingly.

You trembled, still holding yourself up against the armchair, but nodded assuredly.

“Good,” he said, inching closer. You could feel the head of his erection prod against your thigh as he leaned in close to your ear. “We aren’t through. Are you ready to be bred like a brood mare by your Papa?”

You gasped as he took you from behind and grabbed you roughly by the hips. He pummeled into you uncompromisingly and determined. There was no graceful entry like when you usually made love; this one was a furious desperation of a man who needed carnal pleasure immediately. “Fuck – Terzo!” you exclaimed, adjusting to his length.

“Take it, whore! That’s it, Papa’s little cum rag. So fucking tight, Lucifer – fuck – cazzo!” he grunted through rough thrusts. You were that tight because he had not worked you up enough in between your punishment and his pleasure. Eventually after a dozen thrusts, you acclimated to his rhythm and pushed back into his cock when he rammed into you. That drove him wild. He cried out an indiscernible, animalistic noise that turned into a laugh. “Oh fuck – Satanas you do it so good – fuck –”

It always pleased you to hear your usually eloquent Papa turn into someone who could barely speak, all because he was inside you, bewitched. Your head spun and face flushed as he continued to pound into you, gripping your hips tighter and tighter until you could feel a warm liquid drip down the sides of your thighs. He was still going – he hadn’t cum yet…

He hastily grasped around your neck and clutched at your breasts until firmly grabbing your shoulder with his left hand, holding you tightly in place, and you smelled iron. You glanced down at your chest and saw bloody fingerprints across your skin. Sticky and metallic, the sensation hit you, making you dizzy. His right hand trailed across your thigh around to your front, smearing more blood along your side to your front.

He deftly parted your labia and circled your clit with his fingertips, mixing your blood with your cum and using it to glide over your sensitive bud.

You moaned, unable to speak clearly. You continued clutching onto the armchair for support, feeling weak at the knees. “Yes – right there – ” you muttered as he delicately fingered you while ruthlessly thrusting into your cunt from behind. You cried out in passion as he hit your g-spot and you could feel your orgasm was close.

“Esatto, ecco la mia brava ragazzina. Vieni per me, mio angelo del peccato.” As he rammed into you with precision, his breathing quickened until he was moaning your name. “Ho bisogno di te, ho…bisogno – di – te,” he stifled, cock quivering inside you.

You shuddered under him, your body trembling as you came. Your body rocked against his chest and he kept his rhythm, never breaking away from his hold on you. You cried out in ecstasy and slumped forward further over the arm of the chair, spent and breathless.

Wasting no time, he grabbed onto your elbows to pull you closer and thrust into you harder and faster. “Your cunt will be full of my seed – fuck!” he said. You yelped, wanting to relax but he drove through you to his climax, his warm cum coating your walls and seeping out onto your thighs. He groaned, finishing out his high on three final slow thrusts, until he collapsed on top of you. The both of you lay in a crumpled heap on top of the chair for a moment, catching your breath.

“Merda!” he exclaimed, pleased. He kissed your shoulder blade then got up, pulling out of you finally. He crouched down beside you and tucked your now unkempt hair behind your ear. “How is la mia principessa, hm?”

You nodded and smiled, closing your eyes contentedly but unable to speak just yet.

“Ah shit,” he said, looking you over and realizing you were bleeding from where his nails dug in too tightly around your hips. He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder and took you into the bathroom, sitting you down by the bathtub.

“Ah,” you muttered, wincing. Your rear end was still throbbing from earlier and the cuts in your thighs were stinging.

He rummaged through the drawers and pulled out antiseptic, cotton balls, and bandages. He took a washcloth from the cupboard and ran it under the tap. He knelt down beside you and wiped away the bloody fingerprints all over your body. He wiped off the wounds on your thighs with such tender care you would not have guessed he was the same man fucking you senseless just moments ago. He put antiseptic on a cotton ball and swiped your cuts.

“Ouch!” you mumbled, the stinging overwhelming for a few seconds before subsiding.

“I am sorry I got overzealous, amore. You just make me so fucking crazy.” He opened the bandages and gently smoothed them over your skin, careful not to reignite the pain.

“It’s okay, love.” You smoothed back his hair and gazed lovingly into his eyes. He glanced down at your entrance, still leaking with his cum from moments ago. “It didn’t take,” you said.

“Mm?”

“I went back on the pill last week.”

“I know, tesoro. I saw the pill pack on the counter. It is fun to pretend.” He kissed your forehead.

Italian to English Translations

ovviamente (obviously)

[Where else] potrei scoparti in pieno giorno cosi forte da dimenticarti il tuo nome? (“[Where else] could I fuck you so hard in broad daylight you’d forget your name?”)

Amore (love/my love)

Amorina (love/sweetheart)

brava ragazza (good girl)

mia piccola puttana (my little slut)

cazzo (fuck)

Esatto, ecco la mia brava ragazzina. Vieni per me, mio angelo del peccato. (That’s right, my good little girl. Cum for me, my angel of sin.)

Ho bisogno di te (I need you)

Merda (shit)

la mia principessa (my princess)

tesoro (treasure)

[badolmen]

“I’m scared to pirate stuff - ” do it scared!*

*with Firefox and Adblock and a VPN and -

If you want a nonspecific, nonexhaustive “where do I even start” guide…

Sail the cyber seas at your own risk!

Streaming - “I want to watch xyz”

This is normally what most people want when they talk about pirating.

Use Firefox with uBlock Origin and additional privacy add-ons such as PrivacyBadger, TrackMeNot, etc.

Free VPNs are out there. Get one - but vet it’s efficacy. My go-tos are Proton VPN, or Windscribe if you plan to do a bit of torrenting.

What is torrenting? How does it work? Here’s a guide!

Back to streaming -

Make sure that a) you’ve got your Mozilla browser with all its adblocking private glory, and b) you’ve got a VPN turned on to hide what you’re doing in that browser from your ISP (internet service provider).

Now you need to actually find a site to stream from. This is the tricky part, because openly sharing these sites will get them taken down if they’re talked about widely enough. (Remember how tiktok idiots got zlibrary taken down?)

You’re going to have to talk to people on forums. You’re going to have to experiment with sites you find yourself. Search for ‘x online free’ and look at the links that come up - is the preview text mangled or clickbaitey? Are there Reddit threads about that website confirming or denying its content? A good rule of thumb is to ignore the top result or two - copycats of good streaming sites will often buy out the top result spot. Eventually, you’ll develop a good gut feeling and understanding of what a good site ‘looks like’ from the results page alone.

However, there are some places that compile good sites that haven’t been nuked by lawyers (yet) - check out r/FMHY! The masterposts are actively curated and updated when a site goes down or is found to have malicious downloads.

Remember - loose lips sink ships. No tweeting (xeeting?) or Facebook statuses about your new favorite piracy website and where you found it. Even posting to tumblr (kind of like this…) isn’t a great idea if you want those websites to stay under the radar and stay accessible. Nobody talks, everybody walks (away with their share of pirate booty)

If you aren’t downloading media, pick pretty much any site and watch away! Adblock and Firefox will keep away pop-ups and other annoying ads, and your VPN means your ISP can’t tell that you’re visiting an unofficial streaming service.

Note: In my experience, I’ve never heard of visiting a site and watching stuff on it infecting or otherwise compromising your computer. That tends to come from misclicks on invisible or overwhelming pop-up ads that redirect you to an automatic download or similarly malicious bullshit. If you’re using Firefox and uBlock, you shouldn’t be in any danger of an accidental redirect.

Downloads - “I want to keep xyz”

This is the realm of pirate archiving - you’re keeping files physically on your hard drive, an external hard drive, or burning a disk.

Adblock + Firefox browser? Check. VPN on? Check.

Go to your streaming site of choice - most if not all have download options. You can download those files or, manually, right click and save the video file from the webpage as an mp4. I honestly don’t know if there’s a difference in quality or more danger in clicking the download buttons, but regardless -

Run that puppy through VirusTotal.com! It’s a reliable browser based virus checker - if the file is too large, use a local virus checking program (your native Windows Defender on Windows computers or, I prefer, Malwarebytes)

Generally mp4 and mp3 files are clean - choose where to save them for the long term, and bam! Free forever media.

Optionally, I also upload mp4 files to a named Google document - this way I can easily share them or make them findable through a ‘xyz Google doc’ search for others :]

Torrents - “I want to keep and share xyz”

I’m not going to go into this subject in depth because, honestly, it’s not something I do regularly.

See the previously linked Torrenting guide for information on how the process works, and check out r/FMHY for recommendations and warnings about different torrenting clients (I’ve personally only used qBittorrent - I’ve heard to stay away from the Pirate Bay and Bittorrent.)

As with streaming, turn on that VPN baby! You’re going to need one that supports peer-to-peer (p2p) connections, so Proton’s free version is a no-go. Windscribe is what I’ve used for torrenting (and it’s a good free VPN on its own - I’m just partial to Proton). You get 10GB every month on Windscribe’s free version, which is more than enough for a few movies/a season or two of your favorite show.

(Bigger torrents like video games are easily 30+ GB, so be prepared to either pay for a no-limit premium account or spend a few months downloading your files in chunks.)

VPN on? Double check.

Boot up your torrenting client - I use a slightly out of date version of qBittorent, but there are other options. The Reddit thread and previously linked torrenting guide have a few dos and donts of selecting a client, so be thorough before you download your client of choice.

This is getting into the logistics of torrenting a bit, so forgive me if this is vague or incorrect, but now you need a torrent seed. These will be .tor files found through pirating websites or archives - these are rarely malicious, but it’s good to run any piracy related download through something like VirusTotal.com or scan it with a local program like Malwarebytes.

You open your seed file in your client and wait. A ‘healthy’ seed tends to have lots of seeders and few leeches, but sometimes you’re stuck with an obscure seed you just have to wait for.

Your torrented files have fully downloaded! Now what? a) keep your client open and seed those files for others as long as you want to - sharing is caring! and b) run those files through a security program like Malwarebytes (not sponsored it’s just the only program I’m familiar with).

Be wary of what gets flagged - sometimes the files seem important, but are just trojans, and likewise sometimes they seem malicious, but are just cracked software getting flagged by your system. It’s good to check and see if others have had a problem with this particular torrent before - Reddit threads from 2008 are your long dead friends.

And that’s about it. Feel free to correct me if anything I’ve recommended is malicious or outright wrong. I’ve been doing this for years and haven’t had an active problem to my knowledge, so if there is something fishy with how I do things, I am a statistical outlier and should not be counted.

I wish you smooth sailing and strong winds in your ventures me hearties!

Obligatory ‘don’t pirate small author’s or artist’s works what the fuck dude’ statement.

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

I don't know if this has been done before, if it has ignore my ask but i was wondering if you could do a set of headcanons explaining how the boys show love? Like do they compliment? Do they do things for their s/o? Are they constantly expressing affection or is it special when they show love? Do they do grand gestures or is it more of a low-key thing? Again I haven't read all of your posts so if this has been done already I'm sorry. It feels like something that would have been done before but I can't find it.

A/N: This request has been making its round in the fandom, but I haven’t done this yet! I’ve done dating headcanons before, but not an in-depth of how the boys show their love! Thank you so much for requesting, I was super jazzed to write this!

DARRY CURTIS

For Darry, I definitely think he’s acts of service or quality time as his giving love language, and maybe words of affirmation for receiving?

He’s giving the vibes that he’d always be trying to do things for you or having you around, I really think those moments are seriously when he’s the most happy and thriving

So for acts of service specifically, I can see him being the boyfriend to carry your bags or hold doors for you, cook you dinner, or do chores around the house that benefit you like picking up your favorite foods when he goes grocery shopping

Also! Doing your laundry! Got a feeling you’re spending so much time around the house, your clothes work themselves into the laundry cycle and Darry makes sure to leave them on the foot of the bed for you, carefully folded up

And with quality time, he just likes having you around him, y’know? It’s kind of self-explanatory-

Boyo just wants to be with you, watching a movie, cooking, shopping, sitting, working, watching, Darry wants to be at your side and just stay there, hanging out in your orbit

SODAPOP CURTIS

Physical touch and words of affirmation as his giving love language and quality time as his receiving language!

I think Sodapop has a little problem with wondering if people really like him or not? Like if they just think he’s pretty or actually like him? So going out of your way to hang out with him makes him feel really appreciated

But he’s definitely gotta have his hands on you, both as a way to get out all of his chaotic energy and as a way of loving on you at all hours of the day!

Hands on your waist, keeping you close when you go dancing, toying with your fingers, or nuzzling along the line of your jaw when you cuddle, Sodapop is very tactile and very dexterous

And the words of affirmation, oh my good Lord, this boy will shower you with so much sweetness that you’ll feel like you took a bath in syrup

He thinks you’re pretty, thinks you’re smart, thinks you’re incredible, gorgeous, hard-working, lovely, funny, you’re everything to him and he’s gonna let you know it every day

PONYBOY CURTIS

Pony’s giving love languages are words of affirmation and quality time and his receiving is physical touch because I say so

Pet his hair, kiss his cheek, lace your fingers with his and tug him around, pressing into his side, Pony absolutely melts whenever you touch him

Words are really kind of his thing? He’s a writer babes, let me just tell you, you’re gonna be immortalized in his writing as his muse, forever and ever no matter what happens between you two

He writes you love letters and little notes, chock full of compliments and affirmatives about how much he cares about you! I highly suggest keeping these and thumbing at the corners when you miss him <3

And quality time? You guys do spend a lot of time together, but it’s usually around the guys, so Ponyboy does try and take some time out so it’s just the two of you guys together 

You go to the movies together a lot, do your homework together (either at his place or yours), and go on walks to watch the sunset like the hopeless romantics you both are!

DALLAS WINSTON

You can argue with me all you want, but Dally’s receiving is words of affirmation and his givings are acts of service and physical touch

He may be all big and tough, but Dally’s got a soft spot for you and your words always manage to resonate with him, he values your thoughts and opinions over anyone else’s

Yes, I know that he’s an asshole with a bunch of unresolved trauma, but he’s got some gallant traits and I think that he knows how to treat a lover, knows how to be a good person 

He defends you endlessly, guards your drink, picks you up from wherever you are, and takes you out all the time. Dally wants to do things for you, okay? Ya might as well let him do what he wants

And physical touch is such a straightforward concept for him, you can’t look me in the eye and convince me that he’s not one of the touchiest boys, you just can’t, okay?

So many kisses you think you’ll never breathe again, hands finding homes in the dips of your hips or the pockets of your jeans, linking his fingers with yours to give you a little more freedom but still keeping you close when you guys go out!

JOHNNY CADE

Johnnycake my beloved, I’m gonna give him words of affirmation and acts of service for giving and words of affirmation as receiving too!

I think he’s got a rough relationship with touch that’s too long to discuss here, but I really do think he flourishes under compliments! Tell him he’s smart, tell him you like his hair when it’s ungreased, just tell him you like him for crying out loud- 

Johnny likes to talk with you? Which seems weird cause he’s often painted as this shy and quiet kid who never really talks to anyone, but he’s got some sass, we see it when he’s with Ponyboy

So he talks with you and I kid you not, every other statement out of his mouth is a compliment your way, he’s constantly praising you for every little thing under the sun, I’m not even joking

And he’s always down to do things for you! You need something, he’s jumping to get it for you or already giving up what he has to give it over to you

Johnny’s personally offended whenever you try to downplay your needs or thoughts, he wants so badly to help you out and show you how much he loves you, I’m begging you just ask if you need something 

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

This handsy little man definitely has physical touch as one of his giving languages and I think gift-giving is another! I’m torn between acts of service and quality time as his receiving

Two-Bit likes having you around and will often call you up just to hang out or join him on whatever adventure he finds himself in, whether that’s just watching his sister or hitting up a part in the neighborhood

He shows a lot of his love through little trinkets? You’ve probably got shelves full of the little doo-dads he’s given you-

Some of them are stolen, some of them were handmade, and some were actually bought, but all of them, you can rest assured, were given to you with nothing but love and adoration

Hands, hands, hands, if Two’s not touching you, he’s not going to have a good day and he will throw a hellacious fit if you don’t let him keep at least one finger linked with yours

Two likes to have his hands on your hips or tracing the lines of your body, he’s a sucker for your eyes and likes to draw shapes on your skin, especially over your stomach and shoulder blades!

STEVE RANDLE

Love languages for Steve-o are acts of service and words of affirmation for giving and physical touch for receiving!

I think he’d benefit from you showering him in hugs and kisses? Tracing the greased swirls of his hair and squeezing his hand whenever you go to link your fingers together-

With acts of service, he’s constantly trying to do everything for you, man’s a cheerleader and wants nothing more out of life than to be at your beck and call

Carrying your backpack or shopping bags, driving you around when you guys go out on the town and all that! He will not let you pay for anything, it’s a fight every time you try to pay for food- 

Cheerleader also literally means nothing but compliments, okay? He’s got nothing but kind words to give to you in he’s gonna tell you all about it, every single thought that passes through that head of his

Wearing an outfit he likes? Compliments and kisses. Helped him out with a car at the DX? Tells you how well you did and how you’re a far better helper than Sodapop ever was

TIM SHEPARD

Darling Timothy Shepard has acts of service and physical touch as his giving love languages and acts of service for receiving too 

It means a lot to him when you do things, helps him know that you really do care for him like you’ve been saying, it’s that reassurance he needs, especially if you’re taking care of him by taking care of his siblings

Giving acts of service looks like him defending you, picking you up or driving you around town for things other than dates, and paying for dinner when you guys go out

You’re his doll, y’know? He’s never really had anyone steady to take care of him so he’s gonna make sure that he’s steady in your relationship, he’s gonna be there always to take care of you

He’s iffy with receiving physical touch but gives it out very freely, mostly focused through touches or kisses

He’ll run his fingers through your hair, trace your cheekbones, hold your hand or slip a hand into your back pocket, kiss your cheeks and the spot below your ear, making sure you feel his love <3

CURLY SHEPARD

Curly’s got physical touch and acts of service as his giving love languages, much like his older brother, but his receiving is words of affirmation!

He needs to be smothered in kind words, okay? He won’t believe them at first but just keep it up and he’ll be a happy little Curly in no time, you’ve got to get through that tough outside

As for physical touch, it’s self-explanatory. He likes to have his hands on you and he’s gonna touch you all the time, just as long as you don’t mind, of course, he’d never do something you’re not okay with

Specifically, I’m talking about him tracing shapes into your skin when you’re laying next to each other, his hand finding a home on the inside of your thigh when you’re sitting in a booth at the diner, tons and tons of kisses all over your face, neck, and hands

Acts of service looks like him giving over his jacket when it gets cold in the evenings, sharing the fries on his plate when he can tell you’re still hungry, carrying your backpack down the school hallways

He doesn’t always know how to show his love through words or anything, so he relies heavily on actions and doing things for you as a way to try and make sure you know how he feels about you

[indigobsessed]

Domesticity.

pairing : kim namjoon x reader (newly-established relationship)

summary : after getting into a relationship together with your best friend of 5 years, he decided to sleep over as usual. but this time, you woke up feeling different.

genre : best friends-to-lovers, fluff, comfort, a teeeeeny tiny bit of angst, DOMESTIC NAMJOON

rating : SFW

warnings : SHIRTLESS NAMJOON SHIRTLESS NAMJOON AND HE’S DOMESTIC ㅠㅠㅠㅠ , a bit suggestive (implied making out)

wc : 609 words.

a/n : ok maybe i lied that wasn’t my last post afterall… have fun reading this thing bc my brain cannot process an equation rn 😨 not proofread :”)

You squint your eyes to the morning light in your room. Due to the very irritating sunlight, it causes you to slowly get up and sit down. Sighing, and you look to your side and see no one was there. You felt cold, lonely.

After getting the courage to get out of bed, you did your mini stretching as of what your best friend of five years, Namjoon, taught you.

And then it hits.

Namjoon, kiss, confession, sleepover.

Maybe you could be dreaming, maybe this is all just about you.

You went over to look at yourself in the mirror, seeing your messy bed hair and bare face. You are wearing a white tank top with biker shorts, but the jacket you were wearing isn’t yours, and it was five times bigger.

Namjoon.

You walk out of your bedroom to see Namjoon in the kitchen, shirtless and making 2 cups of your favourite tea. You stand there, blushing at the sight of his muscular build. And then you think again, is it true that you kissed him?

You were lost in your thoughts until Namjoon snaps you out of it.

“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t see you there.” He said, putting down the cups of tea on the counter as he walks over to you and wraps his big arms around your waist. You look up to him with loving eyes as he leans down to give you a good morning kiss.

It felt natural.

There were no hesitation.

That was when you realise, he is no longer your best friend, but your boyfriend.

The kiss lasted for a while until he pulls away, you lean onto his bare chest.

“Good morning, Y/N.” He caresses your back in small circles. “Ew Namjoon, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet!” You slapped his chest lightly as you felt the vibrations from it as he chuckles. “Me too, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to kiss you all over again.” He teases as you whine about how disgusting that was.

Both of you stand there, enjoying the quiet atmosphere in each other’s embraces.

He feels warm. You feel warm.

“Namjoon, is this real?” You question him as you hold him closer. “Real? What do you mean by real, baby?” Baby. You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach from the nickname. “I mean.. Is this real? Us? Are we.. Can we? You won’t leave me right? Namjoon-“ He cuts your blabbering off with a kiss. “Y/N, listen to me baby. What I feel for you, what you feel for me, are all real. I know what you’ve been through, I’ve seen it all, my love. The moment I get to call you mine, even though you were already mine from the start,” He speaks. “I. Will. Take. Care. Of. You.” He continued, each word with soft pecks.

“Please don’t ever leave me, Joon.” You nuzzled yourself closer. “Never. We are still the same as before, Joonie and Y/N-ie remember?” He comforts you, and you nod.

As you both pulled away from your embraces, he takes your hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. “Baby, why don’t you go sit down and put on our favourite show while i reheat our drinks. Hmm?” He says, giving a little kiss on your cheek as you went over to sit down.

He comes back after a while, sitting next to you and cuddled closely.

This may be the first, but it lasts forever.

And you have never loved someone so much, and you have never felt so loved by someone.

To make it even better, it’s all from Namjoon.

Your boyfriend.

[chaosmagicss]

drunk words... (wanda maximoff x reader)

synopsis: you have a bad habit of calling wanda when you’ve been drinking. wanda, who you’re pretty sure you’re in love with. wanda, who you’re pretty sure is in love with you, too.

warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of alcohol, getting shot, swearing

words: 4.5k

a/n: i haven’t posted a proper fic in forever and feel bad about it so i figured why not post this thing that has been hiding in my drafts forever!

It takes ten seconds for the headache to hit, and you groan heavily as you roll onto your stomach, burying your face into a pillow that smells distinctly of…

“Good morning, sunshine.”

You lift your head just long enough just to find Wanda at the end of the bed, an amused smile on her lips. You grumble in response, dropping your head back down and closing your eyes, wishing Wanda didn’t have to have her blinds open.

“This is the third time you’ve drunk-called me this week,” Wanda says, and you can feel your face go hot, so you hide it further against the pillow. You feel the bed dip beside you, and then a gentle hand lands on your back. The soothing way she rubs along your spine is enough to make your eyelids flutter. “Sit up and have some water, please, love.”

Your chest warms at the pet-name, and slowly, you do as you’re told. You take the offered painkillers without hesitation, all too aware of the throbbing in your skull, and down the whole glass of water in one go.

“M’sorry,” you mumble, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand as you reach to set the glass back down on the bedside table. You struggle to meet her eyes; she’s watching you with that intense, knowing look. “Did I, uh, say anything embarrassing?”

Wanda blinks, then averts her gaze. “Nothing you haven’t said before,” she replies, with this weird inflection that makes your chest ache with guilt. Your fingers twitch with the effort of not reaching for her. There’s a long, heavy silence, and you fumble to fill it, mouth opening and closing uselessly. Wanda takes a sharp breath suddenly, shoots you a tight lipped smile. “So, you had a good night?”

You swallow thickly, feeling a little bit like this is a trap. A handful of responses sit at the tip of your tongue.

Would’ve been better if you were there.

Too many snobs.

It was okay once I got home, to you.

“I…” You take another breath, try for an easy-going smile. “I’m never drinking tequila again.”

Wanda smiles a little, just one corner of her mouth curling up, but it seems genuine, and it relaxes the tightness in your chest almost immediately.

-

“I just—” You fumble with your keycard, cursing softly when the reader beeps in protest. “Shit, hold on.”

“Y/N?” Wanda’s voice crackles over the phone, and you mutter a little bitch at the keycard when it finally works and allows you to shoulder the door open.

“Sorry,” you mumble when Wanda says your name again. “Stupid keycard wasn’ working.”

“Oh,” Wanda says softly. “Are you home, now?”

You hum an affirmative. “‘m almost there,” you tell her. You step into the elevator, tripping over nothing as you do so, stumbling into the back wall, letting out a giggle at the impact. “Almost ate shit,” you grin, and there’s a small breath of laughter that has your insides warming, your own dopey grin pulling at your mouth as you rest your back against the wall. “Y’have a pretty laugh, Wanda.”

“Y/N.” It’s almost a warning, but your drunken brain ignores it.

“Got a pretty everything,” you continue, and when the elevator dings you step out, feet already headed in the direction of Wanda’s room. “Pretty eyes. Pretty hair. Pretty accent. Pretty smile, pretty lips.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, but you hardly register it as you come to a stop in front of Wanda’s door. It opens only a moment after you knock, and you hear the call drop out as Wanda comes into view.

How she looks as pretty as she does with a clean face and her hair thrown up in a lazy updo, you have no idea. She’s wearing old sweatpants that have a little hole ripped above the knee and a too-big shirt that you’re almost certain is yours, and she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

The words spill out of you before you can stop them. “I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

Wanda blinks, brows furrowing in confusion, but she reaches for you nonetheless. She takes your hand in hers and pulls you into the room, slowly enough that you won’t trip over your own feet. You sink into her, however, wrap your arms around her waist and burrow into the curve of her neck, a heavy feeling on your heart.

She hugs you back, arms wrapping tightly around your back. “What d’you mean?” she asks softly. You take a shuddery breath as you nuzzle further into her.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper. “And so smart and so kind. And I keep - I keep hurting you. I don’t deserve you.”

Wanda takes a breath, and is quiet for a long moment. Your eyes flutter shut, and you think you could probably fall asleep in her hold. But then Wanda shifts, gently urging you to lean back. You lean into her touch when she cups your face, sighing shakily.

“Y/N,” she murmurs. You find her eyes, and she chews her bottom lip for a few seconds before she gives up on words and instead leans up to press gentle pecks to your skin; your cheeks, your eyelids, your forehead, and finally the corner of your mouth. You lean into the touch with another soft exhale, and your brain doesn’t really catch up with the fact that you’re turning your head until you feel the soft press of her lips against yours.

The kiss is soft and chaste, Wanda’s fingers pressing delicately into your jaw. She tastes like toothpaste and peach chapstick and something that’s distinctly Wanda, and you can’t get enough of it. Your hands find her hips, and you pull her closer as you kiss her again, your lips moving against hers more surely. But when Wanda nips at your bottom lip and earns a soft groan from you, she pulls back, like she’s just realised what’s happened.

She steps away from you like she’s been burned, and your head reels at the sudden loss of contact.

“Wanda,” you start, eyes flickering to her face, but any and all words die in your throat when you meet her gaze. She’s got one arm crossed over her tummy and the other reaching towards her face, fingers pressed against her lips as she stares at you with wide eyes. You swallow thickly. “I—”

“Y/N, you’re - you’re drunk,” she cuts in.

You shake your head and take a hesitant step closer. Wanda shifts a little, but doesn’t step back, and you take that as a good sign.

“Not that drunk,” you reply. “I - I know what I’m doing.”

Wanda’s lips twist as she watches you step forward again, face pulled together in an apprehensive expression. Her breath hitches when you touch her, gently gripping her forearms and running your thumbs soothingly along her skin. You can see the gears turning in her head as her eyes flit around your face, lingering noticeably on your mouth.

She swallows thickly, then inhales sharply. “It’s late,” she says, voice strained. “We should get to bed.”

“Wanda—”

She steps back. “Please just - please go to bed, Y/N,” she practically begs, and your heart twists when she steps around you. “I’m gonna go get a glass of water.”

“Okay,” you choke out, and then the door slams shut.

For a few moments you stand in silence, the quiet of the room deafening. Then with an exhausted, resigned sigh, you tug off your shoes and collapse into the bed, making sure to stick to the side that Wanda doesn’t sleep on.

-

When you wake the next morning, Wanda is nowhere to be found. Last night’s events come back to you in a rush, and you let out a loud, frustrated groan, your chest tightening. You reach for her side of the bed to find it cold, and your brain whirls with thoughts: did she even sleep in here at all last night?

You don’t see her all day, and by the time dinner rolls around, you’re practically bursting with anxiety. There’s a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach; there’s something wrong, and it’s eating you up inside. You want to talk to her about last night. You need to talk to her about it. Need to make her understand that she makes your heart feel like it’s going to leap right out of your chest every time she so much as smiles at you.

You have the plan to pull her aside at dinner and tell her as much, until you finally spot her.

Your feet freeze in place when your eyes meet, heart thumping harder against your ribcage. There’s a few seconds where the two of you just look at each other, but then Wanda blinks and pulls in a breath and looks away, giving Vision a smile before she leaves the room, plate in hand.

And, okay, ouch.

Your heart settles in that pit of your stomach, your whole chest aching. You find yourself frozen until Sam calls out for you, looking a little concerned at your lack of movement. You swallow thickly, blink away the tears threatening to burn at your eyes and offer up a smile, shrugging and muttering a, “Sorry, zoned out for a second.”

You’re so focused on keeping it together that you don’t notice Natasha’s eyes flickering between you and Wanda’s empty seat, a knowing look on her face.

-

The mission, for lack of better words, goes to shit.

If you weren’t so damn proud, you would’ve told Steve that you should sit this one out. That you were too distracted by Wanda’s ongoing silent treatment to focus on anything Avengers related.

But still, you find yourself undercover in some nightclub in Vegas, all too aware of the mob boss that might be sitting in the VIP area. Your eyes scan the crowd again as you sip at your drink, and you catch sight of Wanda talking to someone who’s leaning in just a little too close. You can tell from here that she’s uncomfortable; her shoulders are squared and her jaw tight, her fingers curled into fists as she probably fights the urge to fling him across the room.

And you know, you know you shouldn’t even think about going over to help her. You’re meant to be seperate guests, total strangers, to avoid anyone putting two and two together; all a precaution Natasha has made very clear not to overstep.

The probably important chatter between Steve and Nat isn’t sticking in your brain, your eyes focused in on Wanda and the asshole that just won’t leave her alone. You very clearly watch her say No before she turns away, taking a sip of her drink, but then the guy reaches over and slides his hand down her back, settling on her ass.

Your feet are moving before you can think better of it, gliding through the crowd with only one goal in mind. You watch Wanda shove him off hard enough that he stumbles, drawing too much attention to herself. The second you reach them, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt and pinning him roughly to the edge of the bar, ready to give him a piece of your mind, a man goes flying over the railing to the second floor.

“We’ve been made!” You hear in your earpiece, and you catch Wanda’s eyes. “Silva’s right-hand is making a run for it!”

There’s an echo of gunfire from upstairs, and immediately, every person in the club is legging it towards the closest exit. You scan the club to try and spot the right-hand in question, and find him running down the stairs, three guards on him.

“I’m on the right-hand!” you say, and both Wanda and Natasha’s yells of protest fall on deaf ears. For the following ten minutes, your body is running purely on adrenaline. You chase down the right-hand man, taking out the guards that try and stop you on the way. Your lungs are burning for air and your legs are starting to ache, but you’re so close. The man makes a fatal mistake; hesitating between taking a left or a right, and it’s enough for you to grab him. You tackle him around the waist, sending you both down a flight of stairs and effectively stopping you from keeping your hold on him.

He scrambles to his feet once you reach the bottom, but as you push to your feet to follow after him, two consecutive shots ring out.

You topple immediately, your momentum gone in an instant. You feel a burning pinch in your shoulder and another against your side, both feelings settling into a horrible burning sensation, and you yelp a little when you try to push to your feet, eyes still focused on the retreating form of the right-hand.

“Fuck,” you mutter, rolling onto your back. You hiss, pressing a hand to the ache in your side and finding warm blood. You know you’ll be fine; you’ll be healed within the hour, but healing powers or not, being shot fucking sucks. “Fuck.”

“Y/N?” You groan heavily, dropping onto your back, your head spinning. You close your eyes tightly, begging your body to pull itself together. A cool hand covers your own, prying your own fingers away from the wound, and you open your eyes just long enough to find Wanda’s face. “Shit. Y/N’s been shot.”

“Twice,” you croak out.

“Bring her back to the quinjet,” Natasha says, a little out of her breath. “I’ll be there soon, I’m almost done in here.”

“Fucking damn it, Y/N,” you hear her muttering as she pulls you to your feet, ignoring the way you shout in pain. “Idiot. You idiot.“

The words burst out of you before you can put a handle on them. “Sorry, princess, next time I’ll ask them very nicely not to shoot me.”

“Shut up,” Wanda grumbles. “Hold on as tight as you can.”

You grunt in response, gripping onto whatever part of her you can as she takes off. You slip a little, but Wanda’s grip tightens, and before you know it, Steve is lifting you onto the table in the middle of the quinjet and getting to work on your bullet wounds.

You can tell they’re already healing; that weird chilling feeling is settling in. You should probably be a little more focused on getting it to work a little quicker, but you’re locked on the way Wanda seems annoyed with you.

Sure, it’s not ideal, but at least she’s actually looking at you instead of pretending you don’t exist. You don’t look away from her as she paces back and forth until you hear Steve calling your name.

Blinking, you turn your head to look at him as he pulls you to sit up, mindful of your already healing wounds.

“What happened?” he asks again.

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re cut off by a sharp, “She almost got herself killed, that’s what happened.”

You scoff a disbelieving laugh as your head whirls around to face Wanda, who’s now shooting daggers at you with her arms crossed over her chest, jaw jutted out in determination.

“Are you serious? I almost had him!”

“We’ll have another chance, and it wasn’t worth getting shot over!” she snaps, volume raising.

Steve’s voice cuts in, “Guys, let’s calm down—”

“And with that guy at the bar? I didn’t need your help. I’m not some damsel—!”

“He touched you—!”

“I had it handled! You could have blown our cover—”

“Well, I didn’t, did I?”

“But you could have,” Wanda snarls.

“What the hell is going on in here?” You both stop at the sound of Natasha’s voice.

Both you and Wanda open your mouth to speak, but you beat her to it. “Wanda’s being a brat.”

Wanda rolls her eyes. “Y/N thinks she’s allergic to following a plan.”

“Oh, like you’ve never—!”

“That’s enough!” Once again, both of you are silenced, but this time it’s by Steve’s booming voice. He points a finger at Wanda. “You go cool down—” His finger jabs at you next, “and you stay there and be quiet. Let yourself heal.”

You groan in protest, but carefully lay back down, eyes flicking to Wanda’s retreating form. Natasha shoots you a look even as she hands you a bottle of water, but you just look up at the ceiling before closing your eyes and focus on letting your powers do their job.

-

“Hey, I need you to come help me with something.”

You look up from your phone to find Natasha, and frown a little. “What d’ya need me for?” you ask around a mouthful of apple.

She sighs shortly. “Would you just come with me? Please?”

Swallowing your bite of fruit and throwing the rest of it in the bin, you push to stand and trail after her. She slows her feet to let you in front of her as she comes to a stop at a random door you honestly have never been inside of, a hand on your back. In hindsight, that should have been your first red flag.

When Nat presses at your back, you don’t move, looking to her sceptically. “Is this, like, your murder room?”

She gives you a pointed look. “Just go inside, would you?”

With a heavy sigh, you do as you're told, reaching for the handle and shouldering it open.

You come to an abrupt stop when the door opens to reveal Steve and Wanda in the room, and Natasha pushes a little at your back. After a few moments of mutually panicked eye contact with the girl sitting on the bed, you tear your eyes away. You spin and try to step past Natasha, but she steps in your way, raising her eyebrows pointedly.

“Nat, please—”

“Inside,” she cuts in, pushing firmly enough that you stumble into the room. You huff, deciding it’s not worth trying to escape. “You two are staying in here until you sort out whatever it is that’s going on.”

“There’s nothing—”

“We’re not—”

“That’s final,” Natasha interrupts again, voice rising over both yours and Wanda’s protests and rendering the both of you quiet. Crossing your arms over your chest, you sigh, eyes flicking to Steve when he squeezes Wanda’s shoulder encouragingly before moving towards you.

“Talk it out,” Steve says with a firm nod. “It always helps.”

“Yes, mom,” you mock, scuffing your shoe against the floor. Natasha reaches over to pinch your arm, and you step away from her with an affronted Ow!

A heavy silence settles over you and Wanda when Steve and Nat leave the room, door locking shut behind them. Wanda’s gaze remains forward, glued to the wall, but you can tell she knows your eyes are on her. Your mind is reeling, a hundred different conversation openers flying through your head, but you can’t manage to get any of them to leave your mouth.

You clear your throat, the first sound in the room since the door closed, and Wanda leaps into action. She pushes to stand, and you hold your breath in anticipation. But she doesn’t so much as glance at you when she breezes past you, beelining for the door.

You fumble for a moment. “Wanda, wait—”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she says sharply before you can get another word out. She tugs at the door, but when she tries to use her powers to unlock it, it simply locks again. She tugs harder to no avail. “FRIDAY, let me out.”

“You’re not authorised to unlock this door,” the AI replies smoothly.

Wanda sighs, thumping her head against the door in defeat. Her back is still turned to you.

“I want to talk about it,” you say. Her actions pause, body tensing. “Can we? Please?”

She takes a breath, then whirls around to look at you, crossing her arms over her chest and shooting you an expectant look. You falter, eyes darting away from her face as you struggle to come up with words.

“I’m - Look, I’m sorry if what… I didn’t mean to…”

“You shouldn’t have kissed me,” she says shortly. Your eyes leap back to her face, heart sinking. “You had no right to. It was unfair, and mean.”

“Wanda, I…”

It seems as if the floodgates have opened, because she steps forward, eyes narrowing in a way that has you wanting to tuck tail and run. “Are my feelings a joke to you?”

“No, of course not—”

“You think it’s funny that you have me at your beck and call, and I get nothing in return, except for when you’ve been drinking?”

Her voice wobbles, and you watch her eyes fill up with tears. “Wanda—”

“It’s been three months of you telling me all these lovely things just to fucking forget them by the next morning, and now you tell me you think I’m too good for you and that you don’t deserve me, and then you fucking kiss me! And of course, you remember that!”

She’s in your space now, shoving an offensive finger at your chest, angry tears slipping out over her cheeks.

“And then you go on that stupid mission and act like an idiot and almost get yourself killed for no fucking reason!”

You swallow hard, blinking back the burning in your eyes. “Wanda,” you say softly, and she chokes on a sob, shaking her head roughly.

“No,” she says, fists thumping solidly against your shoulders, again and again. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.”

“Hey, hey.” You catch her hands, and she fights you when you start to pull her into a hug until she all but collapses, falling into a fit of sobs and choked out curses. You just wrap her up, smoothing a hand along her spine as she clutches at the back of your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur among her repeated comments of you’re an asshole and fuck you and i hate you. “I know, I’m an asshole. I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

Her hands curl into the back of your shirt as she gives up on cussing you out, burying her face in your shoulder and letting out sob after sob until they’ve dwindled down into sniffles and shaky breaths.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper against her hair, and she exhales again, shifting her face against your shoulder to nuzzle into your neck. “I know it wasn’t fair how I was treating you.”

“Then why…” she croaks out. She doesn’t finish the question, but you hear it loud and clear. Why did you keep doing it?

“I don’t - I don’t know,” you murmur. “I don’t know, but I’m so sorry.”

She sniffles, lets out a shaky sigh, and pulls back to look at you. You lift your hands to her face, cupping her jaw and wiping away any tears still lingering on her skin. Her breath hitches as she leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. Even with tear stained cheeks flushed from crying, she’s the single most beautiful thing you’ve ever lain your eyes on.

“It’s hard to breathe when I look at you, you know,” you murmur. Her eyes open, brows pulling together as her gaze finds yours, and your heart rate doubles. “You just—” You swallow thickly, thumb pressing delicately into her lips for a moment. “You’re so perfect.“

Wanda bites into her bottom lip, eye-line dropping to your mouth for long enough that it makes your knees weak. They flicker back up, eyes searching yours for something. With a shaky sigh, you grab one of her hands, and her face twitches in confusion as you lift it to your sternum and press her palm flat against your beating heart. Her face shifts again, softens a little, as she feels the racing thrum of your heart against her hand.

“That’s what you do to me,” you whisper. Her gaze lifts to yours again, those piercing green eyes constricting your chest further. “And I was so scared of it. I know that’s not an excuse, but I don’t - please don’t doubt that my feelings for you are real. I hate that I hurt you and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes.” Wanda blinks, her eyes watching you closely. “And I, I understand if you don’t - I get it if I screwed everything up, but I just - I need you to know… I’m so sick of trying to pretend I don’t feel the way I do. I - I’m sick of being—”

Her hand fists into your shirt and all of a sudden she’s tugging you roughly and her lips are crashing onto yours. It hurts a little, and your teeth knock together, but when you cup the back of Wanda’s head and take control of the kiss, slowing it down so you can really savour the feeling, you feel like you’re floating.

Her lips are so soft against yours, a stark contrast to the desperate way she’s clinging onto you, and when you squeeze her hip in an attempt to get her to relax a little, she sighs against your mouth. The rest of the world falls away, all of your senses honed in on the woman currently in arms, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You really aren’t sure how long you stand in the middle of that spare room, Wanda’s lips on yours, but when you break away, chest heaving as Wanda leans her forehead against yours, her breath coming out in quick little pants against your lips, you find yourself wanting to sink right back into her. Oxygen be damned.

“You’re so stupid,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“And you’re an asshole.”

“I know.”

She nudges forward, nose bumping against yours, her fingers release her death grip on your shirt and flatten, smoothing over your shoulders, up the side of your neck to settle on your jaw.

“I love you,” she breathes out.

Your breath catches, heart flipping at the words. You try and fail to come up with something intelligent to say, your whole body thrumming. Eventually, you give up, leaning in to kiss her again. Her fingernails press into your jawline as she lets you kiss her, a small, satisfied hum escaping her at the softness of it.

When you pull back, you pepper kisses around her face, along her jaw until she sinks into you, arms wrapping tight around your neck as you hold her around the waist. You nuzzle into her hair, breathing in the comforting smell of her shampoo, your heart pounding inside your chest.

“I love you, too,” you murmur. You exhale roughly. “Jesus. I love you.”

After a few moments, she leans back. She’s smiling when you find her eyes, her thumbs stroking over your cheeks.

“Go out with me,” you say. “Please? This Friday. Let me make everything up to you.”

She bites into her lip, her smile turning just the slightest bit towards mischievous. “Keep kissing me, and I’ll think about it.”

With an elated laugh, you do exactly that.